Cobalt blue

Well I am completely hammered, and as a closet Chelsea fan, I am delighted and embarrassed to report Chelsea WHOOPED Barcelona's ass tonight in football, and I'd a great time, drinking wine with Mable while advising her about work (as in my work is like a family and be careful what you say cos it get's around) and then having beers with the band while talking about what we need to do, and then as usual the lads discussing my sex life (they seem to think I should become a stripogram, which I am partly flattered that they think I could get away with it but let's face it I am hardly the type), followed by a lovely solitary walk around and walk home. The air smells of sycamore and mist, the ground is damp from the rain and the thundestorm still sits at the back of my eyeballs, and if there is one time I love alone, it is this. What I wouldn't give for the green long grass of home beneath my feet, the stretch of empty road before me, the moon and stars my only guide, the empty horse hooves and closed woods of my imagination tracking my path.

What do I want? Only an understanding of this - the sense that we just are, beneath the stars, that we do what we can, that we make small moves;-that if enough of us care, we may move things on and make a change.

My favourite colour now is still cobalt, and I still think of you regardless of the hue the sky takes.