Hello again.

All's well in Lisbon, I am thinking of home though and especially all of the people who I haven't spoken to, (did you find me a Che Guevara?)

Today I heard fresh rain outside my window for the first time in weeks and it made me crave Great Western Road. So I'm going to eat chocolate cake and shut my eyes - I will see grey clouds and I will smell sausage suppers.

But it is beatiful here, I am taking mental photos that I will show you when I get home over a pint in Ishkies.

I have been up to these things recently...

FMM Sines
Festival Sudoeste

I hope to post more, if not, see you when I get backx

Dearest,

I have thought of forty-two different ways to deliver bad writing. Firstly, but not obviously lastly, through pigeons. It's problems are compounded in part in parks. Secondly, one word could spell the end. Thirdly, watching DVDs. Fourthly, typing out all your pointlessness in a cocoon. Fifthly, chopsticks are two-fold origasmi. Sixly, we regret to say, "crumble!" but "crumble!". Seventhly, and probably heavenly, create three hibernating weavels from knitted noodles soaked in cardboard lobsters' claws. Eighthly, invoice bulky baggage by beggar blinking.

So, ninethly, but not before bedtime, I usually ask folk whose eyes crossstitch, PLEASE would someone STOP.
Tenthly, will I ever teach the bastards that manners are not more expensive than trout? I flee.
...
Forty-twothly, one good method is to wish upon your wrinkliest grandma for thirty-one others.

Thankyou for your tenacity. Wally.

Lots more love than you need or deserve,

Gilly. and bean. and my cringeworthy companion roy.

I feel so bad for the man with the storm cloud above his head.

I met him on Sunday night. He was standing opposite me with rain trickling down his long, black coat. Fresh, bubbly rain. He looked at me and said "looks like rain again..." And I turned away from the TV for a moment and agreed, perfectly dry.

I don't know what he did in the past or the future to deserve the unpleasant lingering of a particularly busy rain cloud. It must have been pretty bad though so I'm going to try harder to watch my Ps and Qs from now on. I get sick of the grey days as it is but at least I know that it's dull everywhere, for everyone and that there's a chance that it will be a juggling-in-the-park day tomorrow

But for storm cloud Carl, it's grey everyday.

The wind wants my new hat. I won't give it up because I like it.

It might be nice to be swept away with the wind. I'd like to be picked up and flown somewhere. Or nowhere in particular. I could just keep flying, gliding on the gusts. I could split into a million little dots and be lifted here and there and into peoples eyes, up their noses and into their ears. I could sit in their bags for a little bit until I'm free and I'm away ZoooooooooooM. I could fly over their heads and grab their hats as they walk to the shops "dammit-I LIKed that hat!" And then I'm away again flying whoooooOOOSH. I would run up to the shoppers as fast as I could, throw my weight into my shoulder and try to scoop them up with me, so that I didn't have to be on my own, as tiny dots. I don't think I would get empty crisp packets or the sports pages or bin bags. I wouldn't touch lorries on bridges or ferries at sea.