Tag Archives: Mulholland

Phot’ho.

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Sit Down – James

“For most writers, there is always a tension between a lived life and a life of writing.” A Hodgkinson

Fair point. So after being a hermit for a while, the past two weeks have been spent galavanting. Full. On. Fun!

Unfortunately little time spent blogaruuing. Luckily. A picture paints a thousand words. So I have developed into a photo ho. Lights. Cameras. Flashing. Helping me remember what actually happened the night before…

The Man is in town. So I took a dip in his pool…

Then I sat by the pool and had a think. Continue Reading »

The Death Of Pointless Notes

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Two age old conundrums which have confused apes for never: Which is more important, petrol or cake? Tough one. Good one. And the other… What does a bucket and a chariot have in common? That is a tad easier. Starts with an M and ends with an ape. Wuu. Lucky them! If you have been reading my gibber since way back when – when what? – or one of the hundreds of thousands of people to have read my book of gibber, you might remember my love affair with… The Bucket. Remember. Shudder. The One. Heartbreak. Ridicule. Agony. Frustration. Sadness. Despair. Delighted. Well, delighted when I eventually sold my old truck and stopped going on and on and on about it. My old truck which looked like a rusty old bucket. Smelt like fake tan.  Kept breaking down. Which is the technical term for when you run out of petrol. Yes indeed, I am that clueless. Well, was that clueless. Slightly better now. Although this gibber begs to differ… Continue Reading »

Four. Play.

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Back in the day. When I was young. Grr. About 12. A friend invited me over to his house. Never been invited over personally to his house, by he, himself. Main abode. ‘Call over! We’re playing folf! Are you in?!’ Ehh… Yup. Ok! Sounds good, I’ll be over! Not sure what folf is, but sounds like a fun way to spend the day. On my way! Thing was. I was 12. And I realised I had no way over to my friend’s house. My Mum was out shopping. My Dad was playing golf. No spin. No way up. Bus? No. Cab? Only way. Thing is. I had just spent a lot of my pocket money on sweets. Expensive sweets I bought at the end of every month. Which is why. I remember thinking. Cab there and back, could be a bit expensive. Especially after spending so much on sweets. Still though. Would be fun to go to the house. Ugh. If only my Mum was here to give me a lift. If only I was old enough to drive. But I was only 12. So I couldn’t. Continue Reading »