12th august 8am - between heaven and hell . . .

and on the seventh day he was pissed off, 6am

I hope that you''ll allow me to be a miserable fuck this merry august morn

tedium's devil has nicked my soul and taken it for a joy-ride. he'd better put it back where he found it or I'm going to beat his fucking ugly head.

last night I said I said I would regret my actions in the morning. well, I was half-right; right about the inevitable physical reaction to too much booze consumed by a body that hasn't quite got the hang of how to deal with it. lungs are fried too; can't get enough air in without it being rejected by this organ that justifiably objects to being constantly abused and taken for granted. a strong black coffee and a fag are employed to deal with this setback which, remarkably, some might assume, does the trick; to a degree at least. it is indeed remarkable that thick burning tobacco vapours should be so much more acceptable to these battered bellows than the cool fresh mountain air.

it's chucking it down, and in the stillness of the early morn, sounds sweet, providing some sort of reciprocation to the residual turmoil of the eve's excesses and self-flagellation. as is the ritual, the dogs have been fed, the kitchen tidied. I have not yet put seed out for the birds as it would soon be washed away by the consistent and heavy fall that looks to have settled in for the day. the birds, of course, do not understand this and twitter impatiently at my window and from their perches as they gather, somewhat impatiently, for their daily sustenance. bugger it; I'm going to do it anyway. there are sheltered areas under the guttering and for those that use the main dining area that is the bird-table, they will just have to have a soggy breakfast. it's not my fault, I'm doing the best that I can.

I feel sorry for the sweet young french couple next door. cédêric et alixandra, les petites grenouilles, the little frogs that have tenderly kissed each other and transformed into prince and princess. and their two bouncy and excited, happy offspring. so much to look forward to, so enthusiastic about their highland holiday, and how do we welcome them? our skybound partners in sin piss on them from above. so innocent, their bright and shining expectation of great things to come, adds a welcome glow to the apparent morning gloom and for me, at least, balance is restored and all is, once more, right with the world.

everyone is beautiful
in their own way