Grit in the Gears

I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.

Wednesday, 29 February 2012

A Tiny Church in North Yorkshire

None Shall Pass!

The revolution has started. On sunday, I was confronted by the Che Guevara of sheep, was turned back at the border, by a fleecy militia.
Tomorrow they march, they will be unstoppable. (Unless surrounded by roast potatoes and mint-sauce).