As Renegade Soundwave might say: ‘I am back to announce/Put some style in my accounts…’
Despite the best attempts to save the world from my words, English Dreaming, English Rain is back in the blogosphere. More than ever before, I feel I am contributing to the voice of the intifada just by not rolling over and shutting up. Much has happened during the blackout. Some of you reading will understand why despite my new book being out today, I will not be enaging in usual round of publicity. However, I will post some extracts from Conspiracy Files here over the coming days. I will also be backfilling the blog as there are tales of West Ham fans, tortue technology and Blackheath babies to be told.
It has been a dramatic start to October. All of autumn has arrived in one day. Since early morning the canal has been a constant mass of of temporary rain craters. The sky’s pallete has narrowed to constant shades of gaunt grey. Outside chill has been bold enough to creep into the kitchen and towpath is suddenly thick with a carpet of fallen leaves. With this world outside the window, it feels natural to be a little teary when listenning to Johnny Cash. I already know the bed is going to seem ridiculously cold and empty tonight.