4063 - I don't warm to colds

I woke at quarter to ten, what a great
Night's sleep, had breakfast, chatted to Carla
Went out in light rain, walked at moderate rate
Caught the train to Wilmslow, annoyed by a
Sneezing and coughing man, distributor
Of germs I can do without, having had
A nasty cold last month, Romania
Saw me with a sore throat, I felt quite bad
The adrenaline saw me through the hard
Climbs and town explorations. Had a plate
Of breakfast at Fress Cafe, and better
Sausages you won't find. Then Josie bought
Her pink trousers. Back home, uke session, wait
Til you hear me play - I'm getting better!!

4062 - Brave girl!

I'm having a fun Friday night in but
Not sure if Carla's in or if she's out
She said she'd go out, but has she or not
Her door's shut, could just be resting, about
To emerge. But sleeping this long, I doubt
So she's probably out, she deserves fun
After the tough week or two since that clout
From a nasty neighbour (and ex-boyfriend
Of sorts, maybe), talking to police, going in
And out of the building in fear, she's put
It behind her, or soon will, and at Pret
She continued to work, even doing
Comedy gigs. While in contrast I've not
Done much gigging, it just didn't work out

4061 - Oh no, we've qualified again...

England scraped a one nil win at Wembley
Against Slovenia. It was the usual
Struggle, saved only by striker Harry
Kane, edging over the goal line the ball
In the 94th minute. It is hell
Supporting England, and what's more, I'd say
Next year in Russia, we will not do well
It seems that our national team cannot play
When the pressure's on. But Kane is OK
Like when we had Lineker, maybe he
Can inherit that crown. Maybe he will
Save us from failure this time. Don't be gay
And don't support the team there, or you'll be
Victimised in that rough land, that white hell...

4060 - Oh dear!

Oh dear, a bad at Tory conference
Here (for some reason) up in Manchester
Well it's better than Blackpool! It was tense
When finally on stage came Theresa
Her first big speech - she didn't do one for
The election campaign, she hid from sight
She apologised for her campaign, it's poor
Charisma-free outcome seen as a blight
Weakening not strengthening her own plight
Dead woman walking, is how they present
It, even in the Tory press. But her
Performance was woeful. We had the sight
Of constant coughing, comedian presents
Her with P45, and lost letter...

4059 - Running away

Today I continued to arrange my
Belgian trip, plotting where I might travel
And when. Looks like I'll stay one night, say bye
Then move on to the next town in a whirl
This isn't even my next trip. No, I'll
Be going to Scotland first, later this month
Dumfries and Galloway, driving through miles
Of coast road and Lowland undulation
Cottages and cafes and fishermen
Into a quiet corner of land I'll pry
Part of Britain that I've only known well
On maps as a child. And so, until then
I'll carry on in Manchester city
A place in which I always seem to fail

4058 - (I'll Soon Be) In Bruges

A long Monday at work, then acting class
But before going to acting I booked
My flight to and from Belgium, yes, at last
And the good news is that I will be back
The day before the Christmas meal. I bagged
A great deal with Brussels Airlines, early
December. Now I can plan where my tracks
Will show, as I traverse the Low Country
From Belgium to Luxembourg, and maybe
Strasbourg, or somewhere else in northern France
All very exciting, something to look
Forward to in Christmas festivity
Bruges, Ghent and other such towns, lights on glass-
Like canals, medieval fairytale book

4057 - Something rhymed

Why have I been so tired all week? Dunno
But hope it's not the same next week. Not much
Left to do Sunday evening, might just go
As far through this Lester Bangs book as Dutch
Go through cheese and tulips, mice, canals, such
Great waffles, and waffling cannot be wrong
Saw a short but OK film 'bout a bitch
No, that was just to rhyme. OK, she flung
Some acidic comments out from her tongue
But I think she was just remote and low
'Daphne' seemed to be caught up in the clutch
Of London life, emotion must be wrung
Like dirty dishwater from those who flow
Across the bridge like dead souls on their trudge