Since I turned 27...

Since I turned 27 I have...

Met the mother of my children.
Fell in love.
Became a father.
Scrimped, saved, and scavenged the hedgerows to feed and warm my family.
Travelled around playing double bass in a band.
Recorded albums.
Written songs.
Made some friends.
Lost some friends.
Built some cars.
Raced a car I built.
Appeared on television.
Performed live at festivals and on the radio.
Lost the mother of my children.
Cried.
Worked out that laying in the bath with cheap gin fixes nothing.
Been in therapy and on tranquillisers.
Rediscovered friendships that will last for all time.
Discovered that I can love again.
Laughed.
Changed from father to embarrassing dad.
Made chutney and copious quantities of cider.

Remained humble; thankful for everything good that life cares to share with me.

Inevitable news

Success. Excess. Senseless. Lifeless. Pointless.
Another tarnished silver spoon rebel without a clue.

Dew between the toes.

And it's an early, early morning flit across the back yard grass to raid the greenhouse for just turned red tomatoes, and a healthy clump of basil leaves. Bare foot and dew between the toes. Them peppers, them's next; for the feel fine lunchtime dine.
Been to the Fat Cat Tap with Them Harvey Boys for a fight the noise battle. We unplugged and won. Too pooped to climb the one to eleven steps, bed beckons but the sofa's nearer...

Let it rain.

Brilliant weekend.
Gig, village fete, gig, steam rally.

Rain. Glimmer. Torrential rain. Evening sun. Rain, shine, rain.
French beans, peas, broad beans.
Beetroot for roasting with honey.
Digging my potatoes in a thunderstorm.
Friends for tea, blackberry whisky, sofa sleeping.

Perfect weekend. No gaps.