August 13th

Lying in my bed, free from solace

Listening to the all new Danny Wallace

Trying to win the Arsenal tickets

But no footy for my which just isn't cricket

Then an opportunity to air my views

'Text us if you have any good news'

I have, so I did, with great success

But then, queue a day of writing stress

Head to the pub to fill my time

Trying to find Danny' perfect rhyme

Now I'm back on the radio to try to amuse

And look my 'good' tuned into 'great news'

August 12th

All those memories of not so far

That time, that waitress, that bar

We'd be in there until dusk was born

For the pool table and the free popcorn

All those times that we together shared

Made me realize how much you cared

The barmaid and her golden locks

Our booth and our jukebox

We were the only ones that used it

Paid to play some British music

The games we played the drinks we sank

Confined for always in my memory bank

That dark bar in that hotel

Will always be pure ,rumors dispel

My friends, my family all in one place

A tableaux captured in time and space

All those I trust and love so pure

Came with us on our adventure

I knew you would be there for me

To see the start of another journey

I turned over my shoulder to have a look

Images never captured in any photo book

I couldn't have wished for a greater communion

And I look forward to an epic reunion

That place, that bar, those times, that sun

Will all be revisited in times to come.

August 11th

Wow I've never drunk so much coffee

Flat ones, black ones, milky and frothy

Large or medium or a single glug

All arrive in the same size mug

A hot chocolate smooth like silk

Disappears under boiled milk

Filter coffee on a hot plate all day

Is a little cheaper when its take away

'With your drink would you like a scone?

For £3.50 love, I'll leave well alone

I don't think coffee should cost the earth

But how much is free WiFi really worth

Be it loose or bags or in a small pot

Special tea seems to cost a lot

Someone's given them license to money print

Charging £3 for some hot water and some mint

Wrapped in a ribbon to aesthetically please

But this stuff really does grow on trees

I'm here led by sweets like Hansel and Gretel

Eating cakes and drinking hot nettles

This I do on a daily basis

In not one but a dozen places

Music is vacuous chairs uncomfy

Wonky tables and sofa's lumpy

The marked up coffee isn't the only crime

This says more about me and how I spend my time

August 10th

After a late shift, I open my eyes at nine

My eyes scan the room and this life of mine

Large double bed, one side vacated

A co habiting married man, alienated

This path that I've chosen into married life

Doesn't work so well when you don't see your wife

She left at 6.30 so as not to be late

She kissed me and left me in my dream like state

As sleep continues I can picture her face

I reach to hold her but get a pillow embrace

I move my unconsciousness to the living room

Knowing my day will have to start soon

Food in the cupboards but it’s no fun

Cooking and cleaning up a meal for one

Flicking through recorded programmed stored

Not doing nothing is making me feel bored

Like an old man, I huff and grouch

And look across at the empty couch

I can't open the curtains before me

I sit in my own darkness and misery

Then I'm off to work and with people I chat

She is now on the sofa where I was sat

At least I have her, things could be worse

And I know her day is the same in reverse

When I get in she has a soft warm glow

And she is lent across hugging my pillow

August 9th

Now I'm ready for my own front door

My own garden, my own ground floor

With no one upstairs except our guests

And an extra bedroom where they can rest

Our own walls for hanging pictures

Strong bookshelves to hold our scriptures

A dining table in a dining room perhaps

To take our dinner from off our laps

Somewhere we can apply our own theme

Own carpet, own curtains, own colour scheme

Somewhere with warmth and radiation

Without generic attached accommodation

A place where we can plan to grow

A place for you to hang your halo

A cupboard for shoes and other things

And all the joy that D.I.Y brings

A garden for our gnomes and plants

A vegetable patch to be self sufficient

I want my own letter box in my own door

Not a communal one shared by the first floor

I want windows allowing in light aplenty

My own door bell not buzzed entry

With the banks help and a little loan

We can build a place to call our own

Where we can enjoy sunshine wind and rain

Where we can be at home again

August 8th

Another day off and a day without a plan

Pop to have a coffee in the local Italian

A working part of Woking becomes little Italy

Where I grab a mug of drink and two biscotti’s

This is what we would do if we were to risk it

Making money from coffee and tiny little biscuits

It must be the greatest feeling working for yourself

Not good for the bank but good for your health

At least you know the more you do

Goes directly into rewarding you

Its wide open doors only help its character

Making a Woking ally into a piazza

Of my local coffee tour, it's not smoothest or most refine

But it has a family feeling which would encourage me to dine

The crockery is clean and unincorporated

The small friendly staffing team seems very dedicated

It isn't trying or pretending to be much

Any lacking loyalty card replaced by the human touch

At least I know that there is some place for me

Where I don't need to get the tenth drink for free

I find myself slightly gawking

As the cockney owner is now Italian talking

So the other little Italian isn't pretending now

I have to leave but will return with a ‘ciao’

August 7th

I feel like the man cub Mowgli

As I don’t live around anyone that knows me

I understand it was our choice not to live nearer

But I'm miles away from my Baloo and Bagheera

On days off the streets I roam

Trying to put off drinking alone

Even if I wanted, no friend can I call

To join me in drinking beer and watching football

A man is only as good as the friend he chooses

The food he eats and the places he boozes

So I'll look around once again as the streets I pillage

One day make my way back into the man village