Greetings all and first up let me thank Anna, Shilpa, Jo, Molly (I'm sure you published some of my work in the past :) ) and Katherine for your feedback, likes, loves and shares. I'm sure you've all got busy Easters so I really do appreciate you taking the time to ponder over my humble array of words.
Upon the morn, I decreed to take it upon myself to launch an assault of organisation upon my host of Facebook friends. I hasten to add that all those here are perfectly safe from any removal from my digital second home and are most esteemed honoured guests. However, I'm sure like many of you once you begin to delve within the chamber of friendship you find many people who you think...actually, I know not who you are or how you've arrived at my humble abode.
Whilst I am welcoming to many I did discern that many who have accessed my humble sanctum are strangers. Now, whilst it may appear that goodness, that Gary fellow is rather popular it also comes to mind that there is rather a glut of virtual padding. Upon inspecting my kaleidoscope of amiability I've found that many have had no interaction whatsoever with my good self. I do appreciate, it's quite wise to keep me at a bit of a distance I do wonder what they're doing here in the first place.
Ergo, I began the onerous task of organisation. I used the pc for this great assault and began to organise tomes of relevance for each of my goodly friends and to eject those who've never really said very much. Now, whilst chiselling away with Mr Babbage's, great, great, great and lord knows how many more great grandson it dawned upon this scribe that this process was of an interminable nature. How was one to curtail this ordeal? After a few hours, of temporal displacement I thought, hmm, perhaps the crafty mobile could come to my aid.
I was most heartened when I did espy a google post which elucidated upon how to make this a reality. Splendid, I thought as I began to organise my lists with far more alacrity than the computer. I hurtled though A, rent a path through B, cruised through C, Dashed through D, rocketed through E, flew through F, Devastated G, Smashed up H and then impasse at I.
I was greeted by the following banal missive
"We have noticed that you have been using this feature too swiftly. Due to this you are now temporarily banned from using this option. Please contact our department if you wish to appeal this decision."
I was somewhat astounded by this cyber ambush. This coup de grace upon myself was indeed a telling fatal stroke to my aspirations of a speedy resolution to this dilemma. I did check again after an hour, but nay, still this banishment persists. To think that to press ones buttons too swiftly can elicit such a repressive annulment of ones right to arrange ones whole home.
I got to thinking if these metabots were ever to attain a physical form. Imagine if you will, you are dashing about in your house and wish to munch furiously upon one's toast only for a padded white glove to doff you on the nose and confiscate your meal.
"Dear citizen, you will exceed your calorific intake if you nibble your wholemeal too swiftly. We will keep this in a safe place for you until your return from your place of income acquirement. Please do not repeat this infraction."
What kind of world are we heading towards I wonder...
Well, I shall cease my word input for the day for I have been typing at quite a rate and you never know who is watching in the wings. However, before I go, let me delve into the memoirs and regale you with some of my antiquated works...
once upon a time in 2012 I submitted this and it did get published too...
Five Motors
Reverend Smyles wipes away a bead of sweat. An inquisitive wasp ensures the driver window remains closed.
He wonders how Milly’s getting on with the gala preparations. He should have been there by now. There’s far too much for one person to do. He says a prayer hoping someone listens. He’s interrupted by a blast on a horn. He frowns into his mirror. A blonde snarls at her lack of progress.
“Come on you old buzzard move.”
Christine’s beyond enraged. She’s supposed to be with Joey. His wife thinks he’s on business.
She hopes the traffic clears. Her satin body-stocking didn’t come cheap. She can’t wait for Joey to tear the smooth skin off her with his teeth.
He booked a room at Palmer’s Inn. Tonight’s their first time alone. She wants his hands all over her. She gropes the horn once again.
“Look at her in front. People these days have zero patience,” says Kevin to a long time friend.
Kevin never has a day without crisis. His Dad said Kevin’s conception was an accident. His wife always told him to show some backbone. Kevin maddened her with his passive nature. She had enough and walked out with the children. Kevin hasn’t heard from Melanie or the children in over a year.
Kevin hums along to his tune: Horace Wimp. There’s a bang from the engine. He shrugs and puts the handbrake on. He hopes the boss won’t moan about his lateness.
“What the hell is going on? I’m supposed to be in Docklands by four.”
John hates the countryside. He decides on a U-Turn. He’ll barrel-arse back and cut across the county.
He’s got a huge meeting this afternoon. He’s spent most of the day applying the finishing touches to his tender.
He glances at the speedometer. He’s up to ninety and accelerating. He picks up the phone and tells the office he’ll be on time.
Arthur shakes his head at the lunatic heading back. He peers at the clock and slithers back into his driver’s seat.
His passenger scratches his ear.
“Charlie, we’ve got plenty of time.”
“I suppose.”
Arthur turns up the volume and wonders when Sammy will wake up. He knows his boot isn’t a particularly great place to sleep.
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