Angel Breath and Radar Guns

 

Well, sir- I've come this far and I never believed in rearview mirrors. All the rolltop, bebop travel guides in the western world ignored Portland, Dorset for too long. Far too long.

We've discovered the centre of the universe. Did you notice how some spell-check doolollie changed the spelling there? I feel like I've blundered onto the set of A Hard Day's Night.

For some time now I've been suspicious that life would present itself. That opening act was alright. Fine, in fact. This, though, is sublime. It's Tecnicolor©. Maybe it's the set of Help!

My trusty pack is waiting for me. Not patiently, I hope. As soon as the Home Office determines that I'm fit for UK soil, I'm off again. I pray, in my way, for kindness to return to these shores.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Gonna Get Along Without Me Now

 

Heroes fall and I'm humbled to be reminded that the world will get along just fine without us when we're gone. I've been in the UK for about three and a half months now and somehow the good ol' U.S. seems to be holding together, somewhat, in spite of the ravings of that lunatic blonde from Georgia.

In a few days I'll be flying back to Florida to await a visa. It's ludicrous to fret that England might struggle to get by without me for a couple of months. I do.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

R.I.P. David Lindley.

Who's In Charge Here?

 

The bureaucracy is always lurking, a reminder that you're never in complete control over your destiny. With my fate about to be in the hands of the Home Office, I relish every moment of bliss. 

My greatest wish is that every living being knows something of the joy in the measure that I have known. I'm awash in new adventures and new holidays. They're all holy, buddy. They're all holy.

Play some Little Richard and drink some Ovaltine. Pray for peace and search for truth.

The Stars Are Still There

In case you've been wondering, all the stars are still in the sky. From my second floor landing, here in Dorset, I see them all, all that I remember, when I get up in the middle of the night. We've plastered those little glow-in-the dark ones all over the bedroom ceiling so that I don't have to get up.

Now I've lived like an adult and I've lived like a child. I remember when folks referred to having fun as a grownup as a "second childhood." 

If I tie a silk ribbon around my neck, it won't be to impress my boss or my banker. I eat cake for breakfast and play on the floor with dogs.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Keeping Portland Weird

When I'm not worrying about freezing to death, I'm thinking that the roof might blow off at any minute. It rains pretty much every day, usually for the better part of the day. I love it.

We're sticking stars on the ceiling and we're drinking Ovaltine like there's no tomorrow.

The dogs are happy and the shed is up. I guess life is about perfect. I wake up and see her face every morning.