a weekend.... having it mild ....day 1

Arrived promptly , too promptly, kill time, with the wind killing my hair, i must enter I'm going solo. Two pints ordered, shit i look mental i muttered to myself, whilst a voice in my head calmed me saying "yes Marc you do, but not because you bought a pint for your imaginary friend, its the hair dude its the hair" i remarked how much of a cheeky fucking bastard my inner me was becoming, so i fucked him off and headed to the fruit machine.

The big flashy box made me conjure images of a ambitious tramp who's wrapped him self in fairy lights as a way of amusing me while demanding my coinage. The tramps ploy works. fifteen minutes spent trying to win back money i had in the first place seemed reasonable to me, the man arrives.

We settle pleasantries achieved, i notice a man not dissimilar to Gandalf but dressed in Jeremy Clarkson all over denim ensemble with a stuffed toy rabbit peeping out of his groovy grandad jacket he leaves bar but not before smiling at me oddly and knowingly, and the irrational me tells me he is my future self sent through time with a toy rabbit for some reason, to warn me of my impending doom due to a fracture in the fabric of space time, but he says nothing and exits.

We down a solitary pint of black liquid and head for the cosmic surroundings of the mans home and more importantly his kitchen.

RECIPE FOR EVENING

one liberated bottle of reasonable red wine

several lightly laced illicit cigarettes

a book of zen koans

and a never ending supply of corn based snacks, good conversation and company.

jazz albums


We dust off all ingredients whilst deciphering at least three zen koans as a dessert, exquisite cheese on toast made from the finest wholemeal bread Israeli tomatoes dressed in olive oil. Success.

shattered from being so dam civilized, head to bed.
bed turns out to be a sleeping bag and a hallway, i felt like a faithful old guard dog but comfy, and had to admire the mans no nonsense approach to to the hotelier trade. What will tommorrow bring? i wondered and hid my head from the ghosts that live on the stairs.