Cuckoo Land.

Greetings, as promised, I’ve returned. Once again I find myself sat at an angle of 45 Degrees, lolling on the table finger poised trying not to dribble on the keyboard.
The day before Yesterday I went on a trip into Cuckoo Land. That’s anywhere past our gate, my God, what’s gone wrong out there. The pace, well, it was as if every one was out to get their dramatic driving license. I observed a bit of professional interaction between two truck drivers( almost put truckers there). Apart from that it was a selfish free for all, road signs and markings ignored, no indication and the list goes on.
We drove past several Pubs, once the centre of the community, now, just abandoned shells awaiting the wrecking ball. Surrounded by metal fencing, Ragwort growing through cracks in the never to be used again tarmac of the car park. Invisible tears ran from the boarded eyes.
Even the Pub we visited, and I use the term Pub loosely, lacked atmosphere, ambiance and character. My past their present. Sad.
Even the local shops, a dilapidated row of outlets selling everything from Kebabs to Kebabs looked grimy and uninviting. ENGLAND our England, how I despair.
Anyway, I’am going back down to the greenhouse to see who’s won the race.
I’ve been watching two snails thrash it out on a lettuce leaf. The clock’s saying they’ve been at it for 2 1/2 hours now.
What ever you get up to today, behave yourself, keep well, bye.

Categories: LT COL BUMF, or was he a General?


I'm a disabled ex-Soldier, just entering my Autumn years. I write purely out of enjoyment about anything and everything. My main interests are Nature, especially birds and history. I enjoy reading, fiction or non-fiction, it doesn't matter, any genre pleases me.

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