I could paint a sorry tale on your heart
But you wouldn’t let me cos you’re the star
It’s over a year since I broke your heart
And you repaid me in kind, it left a scar
When, oh, when will we talk again?
When, oh, when will our lips kiss?
Never, oh never again?
Just never say never to me
Never say never to me
Never say never again!
‘Heartland’ – The Sisters of Mercy
‘the bammers of america?’ BGx
I left Jarvis’s at about 11am and walked the four miles back to Blackberry Narrow, keeping a careful eye out as I passed BMW’s house. I then burst out crying, just staring at the River Nene. Just totally fucked off. Why does Dodo live so far away? When will she write to me?!
I feel some loss for BMW. Once again! Too much reminiscing taking place. Walking down the Brink, I eventually reached the Old House BMW and I used to meet in. It’s a lot more derelict now. The banister rail we used to sit on has gone…
I remember one day, just before I went to Peterborough with my parents, I met her there. She came down on her blue racer, and as Betty drove me there I wasn’t sure if she’d turned up. Looking up to an attic window, I saw her there. She was beautiful and radiant. Inside, as I went to sit with her, we embraced. She was wearing faded jeans (as was I) and a multi-coloured jacket over a white top. I wore a lemon shirt. It’s a far cry from the clothes we both wear now. I know we kissed a lot that day. That’s probably why I remember it.
And I threw all that away. All because my ‘family’ and Flash were getting on top of me. Beatrice Miranda Wasp of North Brink, Wisbech, Cambridgeshire, I was (and am) a fool. Forgive me. Maybe our paths will cross again.
BMW and I. It’s over a year now. It would have been a year and a half together if we’d lasted.
(oh yus! Sure it woulda lasted! IF ONLY!).
NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN.
‘Dead and Buried’ – Alien Sex Fiend
On the way down the road, I was chased by a pair of massive bulldogs, so a kindly old gent in a red car gave me a lift home. My knackers were saved!
Back home, I did a few jobs, had dinner and then relished a surprise visit from Satan Flowers/Lampwick (etc).
Good on him for biking all this way to see me. Good on you, Mr Lampwick of Paphton! I’m glad he came; I’d’ve been really pissed off otherwise. He’s alright is Stan; a bit egotistical, but he’s a good kid.
Oh! Flash – DO YOU HATE ME?!
‘Flaming Desire’ – Bill Nelson
Sorry stories from my past don’t change the way I feel about her. She doesn’t know how much I care and that hurts like a felling blow.
All this talk of BMW is doing me no good. I enjoyed my time with THE GIRL, but I shouldn’t dwell in the past. What of now? The dying friendship Flash and I once shared; my newfound dodgy love of the Dodo; my education; my ‘parents’ and life at ‘home’; the return of Paul Jack Jones; my views on life and whether my existence matters or not. That is now. I think I’d rather dwell on the past, thanx!
Oh, look, a paphtah! A pahf! A penis! What a fuckin gypskogging prett of a woman!
Berwin Groomstool says: ‘Yes! What a gypsey!’
I AM BORED AS HELL!
[Images subject to control of individual Copyright Holders including works originated by Elton Townend Jones, but excluding any images or design attributed to ‘The Situation’ which are copyright of The Situation (see specific acknowledgements in the ‘Thanks to…’ section below) / Based on true events and designed as a study of parochial British cultural and emotional life in the late 20th century, this blog is a work of fiction. Cultural icons excluded, all characters and incidents featured are entirely fictional / This blog is non-profit; all video clips are used for illustrative purposes and always come from YouTube / No copyright infringement is intended – just trying to get things into context. Never forget: no man is an island. If you think anything I’ve used is damaging you in any way, please comment and immediate action will be taken to minimise offence / This notice was amended on 13 July 2011 and is intended to cover this and all posts on www.25yearstoolate.blogspot.com that precede it]
NEXT TIME: ‘People ain’t no good…’