Happy cycling and sharing coffee


      I am now very happy,extremely happy,with my bike.

  • But after riding it and having coffee in a small yet delightful coffee jar [yes,instant service[
    talking to an old acquaintance I suddenly felt very odd.
    Everything looked strange.
    Was I about to have a funny turn?Whatever that means.
    No,I didn’t have a hangover [if only]
    or a adverse reaction to heroin,lsd,cocaine or codeine or tea.
    I decided it was the heat in the shop and me having a coat on..
    On coming outside I had a freaky feeling… that
    I should go home.The bike was great.As I approached the main road
    and the pavement I tried to go onto last Sunday
    I said to myself,No,you’re not going up there ever again,Kathryn!
    Then what happened?
    My front wheel turned right,I crossed the road
    and there I was,
    riding on the pavement up to the zebra crossing.
    Who’s in control here?
    Have I been invaded by some other unearthly creature?
    I then got on my bike,thank you Norman Tebbit,
    and rode to my front gate.
    What’s this ?
    A message from God?
    Do I have dual or even triple personalities living inside me?
    I’m afraid I can’t tell anyone at the moment.
    But I have an appointment tomorrow with my doctor
    so I guess the blood tests have come back
    He only took 8 phials this time.
    What luck,he left me some blood behind,otherwise I’d be pinned up
    on the wall like a drying bunnch of herbs.
    Or maybe he’d have put me between the pages of a heavy book
    and made me into a dried flower.
    No,flower ,not flour.
    Then he could have made me into a calendar for 2012
    or a wall hanging.
    It’s cheaper than a funeral and your family can
    see you hanging there ,smiling distantly in your best dress/bib and tucker etc.
    Anyway,I’m still here
    but instead of wheezing my chest is mioawing now.
    I might frighten someone,I hope.
    So in the morning,I suppose i’ll have to take a wash at least.
    Maybe I should soak in biological detergent and put
    myself through a cycle in the washing machine.
    I’d feel ashamed if the doctor thought I was dirty.
    But how clean do you have to be to be really clean?
    Standards keep changing and you know I normally only wash on Sundays
    to please the lord ie my husband.
    He likes me natural.He says makeup makes me look worse,my hair looks better uncombed.
    and what’s wrong with having twisted feet,anyway?
    As long as I’m smiling,he’s happy
    .I might be dead,but hey,I’m still smiling,Lord!
    PS Just a virus,~I believe.I’ve never seen one yet but t

About Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation
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