Powder burns
You cried
,thumble’d for small change
to get the return bus from where wed been
where we were unable to venture any further.
No one likes going back
We march
We march
forever forward
You thumbled for small change
To get the return bus from where wed been
It was raining or were you crying or both
The bus was late
It felt for an age
For an age it felt
The guilt ,the pain of the moment
So much like an explosion
The young heart felt
So close to the edge
The old heart barely remembers
Distant and forgetful
The day has disappeared into a grey fog
Yet her smile her kiss
Live forever pride of place on the emotional mantelpiece
No frame necessary.
The explosion
That almost took me
left
No scars
Only powder burns
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
I have to admit I had a real soft spot for this old bugger.RIP
you cant blame him for the rise on non entity celeb chefs
he made
food for himself,he made it fun ,he made it to be shared, as you like,while it was cooking even....he was dare I say the Hemingway of cooking
there was much in his style that perhaps was like a little empire murmour from the cricket lawns of the old England club of denial and ignorance
but i don't have to see the bull die,nor want to see the spectacle to know when a real man writes about it,and writes about it well ,that
his art cannot be denied.
Hemmingway of cooking...why not
we could do it as a man and drink our cotton socks off
and instructions
what instructions
like lost in traffic
us guys don't ask for directions
Floyd was cooking from instinct ,if lost ,keep going you'll get there in the end,if not perhaps somewhere better,if not better different.
this non conformist still follows his pizza recipe to the letter...its just that those letters start to float about dumbo pink elephant style and well its kinda different every time.
The children seem to enjoy it......
the food and the show
as we all did
cheers Floyd
http://www.floydonline.co.uk/index.php
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