A little reflection

Putting on glass table, full of orange peel. A ficticious account (The glass painting........) of when I, a bit of an amateur painter successfully got under way on Richard Bransons boat, the Virgin ‘moonbeam’, a painting of fervour, my image likeness on glass sheeting, Mrs Hayridge appeared from the side shelves, and turned into a wall of giggles, upon seeing the turned surface of a glass slide, of myself aboard the boat hanging in the Aegean, Hattie the fine actress, and not a tall, from my direction, viewed from the rear my painting is in fictious eyes a ‘cactus’, it does loose a little valour, from then on the article should be called the glass painting from behind, Mrs Hayridge doesn’t praise the back of the paint, and is surprised at the full lovelyiness, upon its twiddling stand, and upon seeing from the front is surprised, reassuring, charm, and me real like the English-tec….. I am surprised, when the abbots from the local convent,who come to visit from the boat, they give oranges, and flour, I feeding bread and fish, I am surprised to see them follow Mrs Hayridge along and below the deck. ….and it all spiral onwards, until my painting has become a core selebr, each new visit, I have to well I don’t have to bring along my painting. During a ring tailed pet has arrived, and likes apple rings, and dried figs….now……. …it’s from that damned f— and English Techno-shaman, …writes me into his blog…and seems to stop at nothing… ..he finds it to gay.. Freddy

Stephen Fry stood 3 eyes, most of you are ladys…columns, of marble like old dons, living, immortal, a mystical number of stones, for tieing boarhounds to. It’s a pity Lord Melshitt ne’r made it this far…belly dances with moustaches will not tame us, nor April corrupt…Across this lecturn…It is here too, we learn the value of money, power share, house share, money is not for sharing…pocess a fortune…depression time, worse crime, worse crime, depression time.. the beating of money is beat to mine own heart…crime!.and through that window there the biggest flipper ever caught…I write therefore Hattie thinks I am…coming through the ages……wizards scribbling Abra Melin, ‘Oh beryl light his…Faraday froze, Kelvin expanded, and Beethoven stood where you are today, another Edwardian, Sir Edmund Hilary, landed, there, (across to Athens) on the parathenon, struggled to the top of the north face and vanished…Brideshead revisited…when cucumber was hard to…..in the highstreet, and so I, here we are here at this pleasant day, Now of course these passages echo, with the sounds of Cyndi lauper, and howard keel. Surprised…Pleides to the right of me, Abbotts behind me, and whats..imagine if you…….I am going to take this door by the tail…