Glasgow Guide Home

Whats On Glasgow Guide
  Glasgow What's On


    Glasgow Reviews


    Glasgow Gallery


      Glasgow Links
Discuss | Guestbook | Postcard | News | Weather | Feedback | Search | About | What's New
Glasgow Guide Discussion Boards

Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )                >> View Today's Topics <<

51 Pages V  « < 48 49 50 51 >  
Reply to this topicStart new topic
> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post 19th Feb 2020, 03:37pm
Post #736

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
A Simple Gift

Similarly to empty of words crossword, or jigsaw puzzle not yet attempted, along with other icons, the actual box proudly sits covertly on a shelf, in the old man’s working den, laying not exactly hidden, but certainly not in plain view for any Tom, Dick or Harry to see. It is shown daylight on special occasions, as well as when a need for an essential tidy-up, or room to be made for some other private symbol. The box is now not in pristine condition, as when first given, but the contents are in prime, and in original tact. Under these circumstances this package is often open, just to peek in with great designs to complete but stops short with memories flooding of the purchaser.

He is no miser, yet, before this present from a child, he secretly horded foibles, complete with missing complex emotions. A better state of mind is not compulsory but allows a wave of gentle reflections on life’s given magic, can easily be bestow, without having profusion of life itself. This simple gift revealed how he had been careless with family lives and passions, and obvious precious talents. This birthday memento is some thirty-eight years old, and now it certainly pleases him, while frightens him at the same time, as he is scared of the conclusion… if completed.

He presumes, fate deems if this poser was finalized, then the chance of seeing his child again, would not only fade, but disappear where all failed hopes go. Now and again, he carefully opens the bright cardboard box lid, takes out all the components within, cautious not to break the plastic covering, sealing it from age, or dust. Gently returns the items into the box, then with care…replaces the box back to rest.

This simple gift from his child, springs thoughts from a Robert Burns quote; ‘A man’s a man for ‘a’ that; ‘is there for honest poverty’ ; and for an unknown reason, his favourite ; ‘O Thou! Whatever title suits thee- Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie.

One last glance to the precious Air fix kit of a Porsche 935 turbo sports supreme car. The memory of the giving, followed what his eldest daughter said smiling; “Can’t afford the real thing right now Dad…but one day, Yes one day?”
-=-=-=-=-
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 20th Feb 2020, 02:30pm
Post #737

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485

Memories from an old Chronicle.
Dear Diary; 03/06/2011


Coming down for breakfast this morning, welcomed by pleasant smile of expectation, complete with enchanted echoing from behind my beloved’s eyes. This was broadcasting the arrival of the early daybreak banquet, added was the aroma of some perfume, disguising the usual kitchen whiff of pets, or the last evening’s meal.

This is when I made my first mistake, by enquiring if there was anything special going on. Shocked is not the word, but angered hurt may be closer, while she struggled to control obvious mixed emotions. My treasure closed her eyes tightly, then reopened them anew, speaking with a tense cold quietness, ‘Surely you have not forgotten? was her crucial question, although she could easily see, I was still in my own wee wonderland…me, the mad hare.

‘Remember’, she prodded, ‘When you betrothed your troth’

Struggling to come to grips with this newly born dilemma, yet, the dates did not tie up in this still half-a-sleep mind. I was about to use a teasing quote, “It’s was not the anniversary of losing my virginity?” but lucky for me, I decided to stay quiet, at the last moment. My lover looked so hurt, as if I did not care a fig, but low and behold I produced an Anniversary card, which in all truth, I forgot to post. I calculated it would win brownie points, by stating the post could not be trusted, this was too precious not to be deliver by hand.

I was taken aback by ‘She who must be obeyed’, exhibiting a magical twinkle in her eyes. We kissed; we cuddled, then in turn opened our cards, with smiles beaming up the dull kitchen. Just as I was about to replace the card, for next year’s outing, my true love utters in whispers, “don’t forget where you put it”

In her heart felt card… I wrote sincere lines, in hope it would forever keep us entwined;

Keep our love alive,

By surprises, we strive,

For decisions it takes,

Sugar-Puffs or Corn Flakes.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 26th Feb 2020, 07:02pm
Post #738

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
JIM, 8 Ball ?

Jim stepped down from the train, instinctively understood he must be at the vital destination, at a specific time, yet…Jim doesn’t know why? Perhaps a sort of clandestine mission or more likely, a personal vocation. For all assignments have every movement carefully planned, nothing left to chance, for a purpose, or principle know only by his government agency.

This operation assignment had been riddled with unexpected delays, all sorts of hold ups for any Pullman, with interruptions due to overhauls on the line, while ‘Gandy Dancers’ repaired tracks, ‘Rail dogs’ switching clamps, just outside his destination shanty town. But now Jim was sure he would succeed finally.
He was well aware being a fish out of water so many times, however when things kicked in, it would be inevitable his pre training and guides from ever present clergy, would automatically follow its wake. Every stage had been minutely inspected and every error being accounted for, counter acted upon. Nothing was laid to chance. Nothing.

Being under no allusion, he would not come out alive. Was God out there, and what was the real purpose of it all? Would Jim gain a glance of heaven, or could it be Elysian field, though Jim preferred “Valhalla”, as he believed, with some justification in doing so, he had a touch of Norse’ blood, far down his hereditary roots. Tricky with this type of thinking just before the mission, could cause room for error, and Jim could not afford to make a wrong judgment. He had to display courage dignity right through to the end. So now was his point in time, his ultimate sacrifice for his country, his family, was for the good of all mankind.

Jim had practiced every step as a daily habit, so not to faultier on the day the button would send him, alone, soaring way past any conception reason could give, as ordinary minds would fail to fathom. Once that button was activated, no power on earth could cancel, or react the laws of nature taking over. Jim’s tiptop health was totally central to the task, and checks would take place almost up to the critical moment. It was seen as unrealistic, or even cruel to continue if he was not ‘A’ one, as the undertaking could well be put in danger.

His mind alert though his vision was blurred, as he stepped forward, atomisation had taken over, for he sensed being helped into his cockpit, strapped to his chair, his helmet placed carefully on, so not to break the delicate working wired into its frame. Jim even had a special hair cut so nothing would interfere with the final countdown. For a split-second, Jim’s mind wandered again for he did not eat his favourite evening meal, just in case he threw up but the mere exertion he was about to face. That would be embarrassing…such was his destiny.



Then suddenly, a blinding flash followed a massive surge of power, and an odious smell…. It was announced that Prisoner number 238956 was executed, this morning, in the Electric chair.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 28th Feb 2020, 03:55pm
Post #739

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
The nervous dunderheed …

Sam is an aging adolescent, thrilled and worried at the same time. The pure magic of instant information at one’s fingertips, contacting almost anywhere in the entire world, within billion trillion, zillion cells… isolated in a single cell. This is Sam’s personal fret, yet constantly fascinated by the amazing strides forward by the cyber space producers, who claim they indeed have simplified the process, so much so, even a child of three could pick up the knack of the internet, in a matter of moments. Sam desperately in need of that specific three-year-old, to assist him with the workings of his computer.

Perhaps the claims are genuine…but what about all the delinquent over 70s groupies, born during or just after the war, who from nursery school onward, were bombarded with chanting basic Arithmetic timetables, in almost religious style repetition. Added to the school’s curriculum, pupils chaunting British history hotspots dates, boring into innocent minds, until 1066 and 1815, was the only eras of any importance. No real narratives, and certainly not on Scotland’s past

Auld Sam, as a fully paid up grumpy computer imbecile, the cyberspace is a tangible scary entity, for although only a small percentage of usage of worldwide Surface web exists for everyone, the massive ‘Dark Web’ encoded security system, make’s it nigh impossible to trace. ’No one actually owns the Internet’, no specific individual, or corporation controls the Internet in its totality… or responsible for it, leaving a perplexity danger of creating a refuge for dishonesty

Sam, with just a lone flick, can be in contact with the whole world…nevertheless the dark side of the web, bent on naughtiness, can furtively be in touch with him… through the complex Onion router of Tor nodes. These particular Tor’s are not the rugged beauty of ‘Logan Stone’, from ‘Neolithic period’, but sneaky befrienders of deceit.

One thing really bamboozles Sam, if all the unused, or abused zeros, cryptogram emails, unknown dealings of the deep web are deleted into cyberspace, may eventually stifle the whole system, legal or otherwise minus warning, imposing the entire network to instant standstill, then crashing down on the unexpected world, creating mayhem beyond anything known before…then the need for Cornish Tor’s would become essential…for sanity to survive the beginning of the outer net…or is it all an allusion ?
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 29th Feb 2020, 11:31am
Post #740

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
Wur ye Dancin

She had been busy, as a busy little bee with her ears constantly attentive to listen for the bell, for when it rang, she would need everything spick and span, ready for her young brother’s supper. The poor lad worked so hard, even today which is Saturday, however she smiled, for once he has finished is toil in the ‘Army & Navy’ store, when the bell rang , she was keen to please him, as she had prepared something really special…and he would grin while she placed it on the kitchen table.

Tonight, was the night when he rushed home, hastily toss off his working togs, shaved and wash, immaculately brush and comb his hair styled with brylcreem. Stop to look in the mirror, dolled up to the nineties, with his Cashmere coat, bespoke suit and Sunday shoes. She would insist he sit down and taste her cooking, before heading for the lively Barraland. She did not mind, the wee laddie deserved a night out, but she must listen out for the bell.

Money was tight and things were really hard to come by, with food and the essentials on rationing, even after all this time after the war, and no matter what those politicians said they had achieved. She had been thrifty, and careful managing to put away some provisions in her special wee cubbyhole. The table set, and the kettle was simmering for her brother to take to the bathroom. Yes, they were fortunate having a bathroom, for most of the houses were single ends.

She thought the bell rang, but it must have been her imagination, now she was in a panic, unable to find the wee poke of sugar she had hidden away. This would spoil everything, because her brother could not take the strained tea without sugar…even a sprinkle would do, but where did she put it? She just could not remember where it was, searching high and low….

Without any warning, the bell rang, it clanged loudly for some considerable time, making her go into a tizzy, running around like a headless chicken beyond any understanding.

Her brother appeared, he was an old man of some 90 odd years, struggling to walk with his stick. He had come for his weekly visit to his sister, who now resided in an open hospital, because there were no places in any physiological Dementia ward. The nurses were puzzled… why she kept hiding food, biscuits… even sugar under pillows, bed cloth’s and in her locker.

Not recognizing her brother, for she was locked in the past, mental safe, today was Saturday ….her brother was working in the Army & navy stores….where he has been working form since as far as she can recall…she's waiting to hear the bell….
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 2nd Mar 2020, 07:11pm
Post #741

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
Backdated

Looking over some old reminisces reserved via ‘My Chronicles plus ‘Dear Diary’, has at last changed my stubborn mind how things altered when people move when unknown circumstances change, with the only certainty, nothing last forever, no matter how hard you wish it wasn’t so. Over the past 30 years it appears, according to my journals, my life is parallel with many visits to the famous…or infamous Glesga Green city’s ‘Fair Fortnight’ traveling showman’s spectacular.

In the 12th century The Fair’ was sanctioned by ‘William the Lion’ during the second half of July, to hold revelries in Glasgow…so Fair Friday was my date for visiting the magic extravaganza, before heading for a holiday destination…sometimes ‘Doon the Watter’….the Clyde Riviera

My up and downs, twists and change of directions, great joys and melancholy emotions through this time can be associated with the atmosphere created by this old-style visit. For a start, candy floss. Then the main events ‘the turning walzers, the smooth Carousel, the scary Wheel, the amazing Dundee Swing, the dunts and dents from the electric sparking dodgers, the dingy creepy Ghost train, the bumbazed hall of mirrors, and the one-way ticket Helter Skelter. But most of all the muddy underfoot, for you could bet a dollar…it would be pissing down, yet each year after spring had come and gone, my bum was pins and needles as Fair Friday pageant grow closer

At Times, it’s hard to appreciate reading the joys and amazing memories, which pictures and print brings, when circumstances inadvertently change… or are so tragic, I felt guilty squinting into the past…or worried somehow the spirits would hear you laughing in amusement. Certain peoples brought back my personal existence, as Aunt Becky’s fragile reality, being cared for in a dementia ‘Old folks’ home by caring professionals. We Dom, the original member of the wacky ‘Benghazi Mice’, back in 1987, is now in a stupor, seriously ill

I have been jammy to encounter a fantastic variety of people, from here or abroad, who became associate’s, companions’, friends, close friends, and of course China’s… With a silent ‘Thank You’, to one and all… for making my life such a privilege…for me…I hope I returned the compliment.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 5th Mar 2020, 07:07pm
Post #742

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
The Threat (1)_

Opening hazy eyes to seemingly another ordinary day, switching off the telly I fell asleep to last night. As usual, while heading for a shower, tripping over my feet because one rogue slipper no longer fits, mainly due to being squashed under the heavy settee. I just sort of adapted my slouch to suit the ignored hazard. The slippers had been a gift, from somebody so long ago.
Performed my ablutions, in a humdrum fashion, flung on the old dressing gown and into the kitchenette. All normal stuff, typical, nearly forgot the salt for the oats, before shoving the bowl into the microwave

A thought sprung into my blurry mind, for the benefit of all mankind, the ultimate advancement in decades of Science, the microwave, because you could heat the oats in the bowl, no longer needing to wash sticky gooey pots of cold almost non-removable porridge. The letter box rattle loudly, so gently shuffling to the front door before the microwave tings my breakfast ready. One single brown envelope landed on the rug,

Assuming it was from the government tax mob, carelessly ripped it open while returning to the pantry. However, there was just one plain white folded piece of paper inside. Opening as it folded, glancing a lone black message ‘Annihilation is close at hand’. Initial shock, yet oddly not surprising, looking inside the now torn empty envelope, then returning my stare unfortunately clearly… dark bold underlined message now stated…. ‘Your Annihilation is close at hand’
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 8th Mar 2020, 11:44am
Post #743

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
The Threat (2)

Is this a bloody sick joke, a stupid witticism from one of my crazy friends, like Bruce? However, at that moment, I was in a stupor, crumpling both note and envelope, tossing them in the bin. After a usual breakfast, automatically following my normal routine back upstairs, starting bathroom constitutions by switching on the shower. Standing in the steamy sprinkle, niggling thoughts returned to this anonymous letter. If I looked at the postal stamp, perhaps I could work out who sent it. A crank, more like a loony heidbanger.

Rapping a towel around for decency, a bequest from shady Marseille, returned to the scullery, retrieved the plain russet envelope to witness no signs of postal code, or anything. Again, scrutinizing the bizarre note, hoping for a clearer focus. It’s daunting message once more startled me into a trance of fantasy, drifting into darker passages of my psyche. For some volatile reason, the Roman God Jupiter tumbled into straying thoughts. Instinctively I knew it was March, but what was today’s date?

Completely under a psychotic mentality, violent images and reflections lurked in a shadowy desert milieu, where out of the blue came the chilling Sibyl’s repetitive warning to Caesar… 'Beware the Ides of March'. This triggered a focus on school’s recital of Shakespeare. In ancient times, ‘Ides’ was the 15th. and the first full moon of the year, but catastrophically more important, the slaying date of Caesar, who uttered... “Et tu Brute”?

Today’s date came in a amazing flash, spreading utter relief...today was 8th, safe and sound…but then, from the depths of absurdity a bloody worrying notion hit me instantaneously …it’s only 7 days to the 15th…. bringing another unavoidable nagging fret.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 10th Mar 2020, 12:11pm
Post #744

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
The Threat (3)

My imagination set off a can of panicky worms, as somewhere from the mist of retrospective School times, an extra piece of information, circled around my confused recollections regarding ‘Ides’ of March. According to my shaky memory, 15th Ides in the Roman Almanac, occurred so in May, July and October, but more concern being, ides fell on 13th of every other month remaining. What does this mean, if I survive after 15th unscathed, do I have to hide, in terror on the 13th and 15th ever month, and what if its centred around full moons, has the date shifted with the introduction of 1752 Gregorian calendar’s missing 11 days

With this sneaky probe, subsequently nearly set root to my way of thinking, until I realized it was a poppycock way to use facts…and the basic fact was…no mention about the ‘Ides’ in the crazy note. Stiffening my remaining resolve to carry on with the day’s routine before this bloody letter, I chose to leave this bizarre message in the sideboard all-purpose drawer. Made a cup of tea, rather sweeter than typical, however, along with painkillers, would easy my raw tension. All scrubbed up, decently attired, ready to face the world outside, with a umph that everything now being tickety boo, locked the front door, then turned to march forward.

It was only then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied this dubious oddball character obviously staring in my direction, who was definitely a foreigner to this district, for I never saw him before. He just stood there gawking through dark beady eyes. following my every movement, Now I was feeling apprehensive’, but not losing control, I casually turned around, acting as if I had forgotten something, re-entering my home closing the door, locked it and checking it was tightly shut.

Tiptoeing into the living room, slowly moving sideways towards the heavy curtains, trying hard not to move the newly bought blinds, so I could peek out. The dark toe-rag was awkwardly standing over the road apiece, in a deliberate menacing manner. Dressed in ruffian type cloths, he was lurking slyly as if contemplating a bog of evil intentions. Again, I peeked out to see if this unknown lout was heavy handed, or with an accomplice, but I could not see anyone else.

It was becoming obvious, this chilly bugger, was attempting to startle my usual composure. Was this the F---in bastard who sent the message? If so… what the hell am I to do?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 11th Mar 2020, 02:08pm
Post #745

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
The Threat (4)

There was no way out, other than the front door, but now I knew it was imperative I should go out, threat or no threat. Breathing deliberate deep breaths, hoping to stop my pulse going erratic, yet, my blood still felt as if it was gushing from my very veins, causing numbness in not a nice way. My mind uncontrollably forming strange thoughts of misapprehensions, straying unaided, free from restriction or any barrier. So raw, reality wobbles from a straight line, as pressure from unknown sources crimple sanity. With every effort mustered to be composed, I opened the front door, closed it behind me, stepped around to face my adversary, that villainous vagabond over by the road.

Straining my eyes taking a second glimpse of this trespasser, something familiar about his rundown physique. His cloths had seen better days, matching his pale morose features. A cloud hung over this twisted body and the hint of foul odour outwardly circulating, even at this far distance Suddenly, without warning a nerve hit a spot, as my sub conscious acted without me being aware. It’s him … isn’t it? But surely, he did not hold a grudge, after all this time? I mean, I had no idea of the consequences after our boyish prank at the school. Surely, he does not blame me alone.

A distant bell in the back of my brain, began to hurt as a new thought painfully emerged. Perhaps he has caught up with all the rest who performed with such vigour, the despicable adolescent act. I could be the last in his vendetta list of vengeance. Maybe he saw me wrongly as the instigator, for the fact of the matter, I just was carried by the physical wave of my peers. After the horrible action, I tried hard to contact him, apologies but by then, he had been erroneously expelled.

God: it’s been donkey’s since… with the cobwebs of time cluttering up almost all memory of it. Time and purpose have neatly kneaded away at whose true responsibility…and the school exonerated all of us for our restraint. The true story was buried for the good of the all, bar one. And here he is today. Then, the terror of fear struck, interwound around every emotion I ever possessed
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 14th Mar 2020, 02:08pm
Post #746

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
The Treat, Conclusion (5)

Recollections lurched back to obscure school days, during the country’s massive military battles, schoolboys were sheltered from the horrors the conflicts brought, until the fateful day when hell came to visit. No one is sure what sparked off such unbelievable cruelty, and no phrases can express the reality among my peers and I. On that wicked day, it was whispered how the School’s newest intake, was a ‘BASTARD’ in the eyes of the church, and his dad was a slippery weasel Conscientious objector.

The now pathetic unfortunate boy was roughly paraded around the seminary, as an unwanted trophy, by a growing insurmountable throng of demented adolescents, chanting he was a blaspheming demon against true Christian values, a scoundrel, but the truth was…he merely was an outsider. It was fearfully astounding how speedily we were swept along, together with raving repetition of a dark omen, under the flimsy guise of a religious cause. The enthusiasm, the sheer indulgence in a phenomenal connection, breaking all barriers as to wrong-doing, and as one, the pent-up reactions of the mob took over my own motivation.

I wanted to tear his heart out, being swept away with the power of the rabble, as the tore off every inch of his garments, left feebly stand in judgement by his crazy captors. He was blackened from head to toe, to symbolize tarring. Added was a makeshift skeleton of the dead, rudely painted over the blackness of his skin. The tragic figure was then trust to the concrete ground, held down while a teaspoon was tapped, not hard… but every half second, until his calf became red and swollen beyond any recognition. Each tap heightened his agony

Released from the many restrains, the boy attempted to walk but collapsed like a lonely tree in the forest. He made several more attempts with dire spirit willing, but his body just crumpled. Reality came when I heard him sob, I now felt no words, or tongue could justify such behaviour. Placing his ripped coat over his grotesque naked body, I left the barbaric scene, bearing a sickly remorsefulness for my abominable uncontrollable actions. For weeks afterwards, I prayed, quietly in the furthest corner of a church, so God will skip his chastisement on me. The school governors, protecting the school’s reputation, the whole affairs account was ‘Buried’, and the only innocent one of that day… expelled forever.

Just before my father died, he wrote this declaration, word for word, left it in his will. His simple message for life, not to judge individuals by their convictions…or what they wear. I decided to walk slowly over to the shadowy strange, call out a friendly “Hi”. He hesitated to reply…due to a stammer which obviously embarrassed him…he asked the way to the railway station…then said, “Thank you”, which shamed me to the bone.

Unexpectedly, a sudden flare of light, awoke me to find I was naked as usual, in the exact place, time and day…as I had done before… Searching completely every nook and cranny, throughout the whole house, for the threating note but could not find it.
Was it all a dream... my imagination… the end?
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 21st Mar 2020, 11:44am
Post #747

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
A Dark Journey

Awakening to blackness, my mind total blank, in the realm of emptiness, apart from a curious awareness of slipping into my destiny of old age senility, ‘losing my marbles’. Attempts to even think logically, brought only desolation, except time and time again the comprehension of amnesia. As I lay there, nigh in a stunned stupor, the blinds rattled, the curtains waved slowly but suspiciously deliberate, as if someone, or something untoward was lurking behind the heavy drapes, bring a shade of tension, even dread…an imaginary Bugaboo.

Trying so hard to be rational, but it was not to be. Carefully moving out of the bed, to face whatever adversary lay behind the bloody curtains. Silently as possible, cautiously approached the window, quickly pulled back the fabrics, to be astonished nothing was there… except the flickering streetlight across the road. Now wide awake, though apprehensive returning to bed, hearing distant thunder escalating in volume, yet, the night had looked clear while at the window.

Back under the covers, thrashing in my cowed psyche was now open panic. Out of the blue came an imaginative wavelength, as if in another dimension, thunderbolts sped to and thro inside the bedroom, causing unsteady thumping heartbeats, triggering pains right across in my chest. Because I’d lost my marbles, it was obvious I hadn’t the will power, or the mental strength to stop this vivid nightmare.

Repetitive unexplainable clammers, gaffes and mishaps, right in front of my closed eyes, preventing realities of actual time. Facts tossed out of sequence, as loud heartbeats echoed my fervour of useless. There and then, I crumbled, at that moment… I believed in cleft hoofed auld Cluttie, and his wandering gyre of the netherworld. Pleaded in his dark name to give me peace, for just one single moment…I want purpose, sanctuary for my soul…but no response came.

Fleeing from the crippled ambience of torment, into the hopeful safety of the next room, I began to scrawl on the internet, in a vain hope to calm my state of mind. Seated more steadily, I looked up to the shelves about the computer… and there was salvation up in the top ledge, a heavy glass drinking vessel, containing my poke of cherish playground ‘Jorries’. At a stoke, the sight freed all my worried tensions, and anxiety…because I’ve found my marbles…but…wait one darn moment…where’s my miniature Rupert Bear… given to me by?
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 23rd Mar 2020, 02:32pm
Post #748

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
JIM Stepped Down

Jim stepped down from the train, what happened next defied all logic or physics, nevertheless, the plain truth is… it did happen. The train, the platform he was standing on, just vanished. Not only from sight but from existence. Jim’s courage spiralled uncontrollably downward to almost zero, as fear took a vice-like grip, yanking at his nerves. He forced himself to witness nothing, a void… except a weird sensation that common sense having just lost its foundations. Inwardly asking himself if this was a dream of nightmare proportions, to escape was truly impossible, apparently, he was just dangling in nothing, unless it was an allusion… or else a distorted reality…Or neither was true?

Without means to tell, out of nowhere came a moment where a self-named; ‘Keeper’!, requested to contact him, by language and vision through this ‘Keeper’s’ supreme mind. Jim was surely no scholar, but amazingly comprehended the technology of the information filtering through his mind. His fascination rid him of any apprehensiveness, switching off his alarm button. The lecture chronicle of moulded earth saga, from the beginnings from gas and dust forming the third planet from the sun, onward showing famine, wars and starvation.

Pathetic sights of untold misery by man’s hand, footprints stamping on want for man’s self-preservation greed, irrespective the era displayed. Each stage of supposed civilization was no better than the last… yet human cockiness of being the Supreme Beings, destined for higher things. Jim saw how human beings were just an single accident, in millions of accidents, taken place through infinity…If the ice had not reflected light, or the atmosphere had change minutely, then man would have not have existed, concluding the keeper had left it… but for what purpose eluded Jim .

He was left isolated, to consider all he had observed. Just beneath his concept, though it was perfectly plain it was there, a glimpse of an idea something of real importance was just about to come. Was this the answer why he was there, wherever there was… or was there everywhere? Without question, something controlled everything within the known universe, and universes far beyond, and the soups of creations unknown, about the makeup of all that mere man could never understand in a million years. Jim could see it all.

Time after time, the keeper picked up the pieces, started again… though Jim couldn’t reason the keeper’s motivation. The message was brutal, seriously heavy, from the voice giving warnings. Uncontrollable somatic regenerations will invade all bodies, and species throughout this world, until nothing living will survive. Genetic chemical mutagenesis will reproduce, at such an alarming rate, it will be impossible for it, or all other life to repair and reproduce anything, even bacteria. Death of the planet will be only a matter of limited time.

With another nerve of an unspecified chronometer, Jim found himself, alone on the silent stairway leading to the station, where the Pullman’s train was just about to leave. Jim instinctively spurted, making good, by boarding the moving locomotive.
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 24th Mar 2020, 12:24pm
Post #749

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
My Chronicles 24/03//2020;

I presume we roughly are in the same boat as most peoples in the British Isles, self-isolated as best we can. Fortunately, having the internet, the telly, the humble radio, is an excellent bonus, and a broad band of Films/D.VDs, C.Ds we haven’t seen, or listen to for donkeys. Although one of my school nickname’s may warrant it, we are not in the same situation as fictional Robinson Crusoe… 28 years and a couple of months, castaway… his dire need was a boat. Funnily enough, never got round to reading the second edition, ‘The Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe’, I must have missed the boat?

Due to the latest state of affairs, I’m unable to visit Becky in the residential home, but allowed to phone in a regular basis. Becky’s health and ability to take nutrition, has declined, though does drink a little. Becky is sleeping for most of the time, and we have been instructed, the home staff, and doctor, is keeping an extra close watch on the situation. Over the past few months, when I did visit the home, Becky was sleeping, and if she was awake, and in the canteen…Becky had no clue who I was. I will keep the family posted

My smashing mate, Dom, ‘Benghazi Mice’ original member, is in the Victoria Hospital, with his health issues accelerating to grave concern, though recently, this condition he has visited twice before and recovered slightly. The sadness is for both Rebecca and I have enjoyed their company so much over the years. Rebecca, from an early age, holds recollections of Becky close to her emotions. For me, Dom is a loyal mate for over 35 years, and so many memories to choose from.

Before the balloon went up, I took my customary rail trip down to Ayr, meeting up in Witherspoons, with China, Jim Hendry…for the habitual, slight refreshment. Its always good to wander over old memories, slang each other. We are gritty old men, but boy do we laugh at the most ridiculous conclusions, chuckle unrestrained at the drop of a hat. I have no idea when we will meet again, but I will tell you this…when it happens, I’ll be there…though its his turn for the bell.

The magic Pines are back home from France, for good, mainly due to the uncertainty of Europe. Rebecca and I met Keith and Lizzie just a few months ago, but again, when and how we are lucky to see each other again, is in the hands of the gods….but hope eternal?
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post
peter.howden
post 25th Mar 2020, 08:04pm
Post #750

Super City Key Holder
******
Posts: 839
Joined: 21st Oct 2005
From: /Glasgow
Member No.: 2,485
This news just in, is spreading all over the country…Cat Burglars bitterly complaining to the police, having been kidnapped as they went about their profession…not let out for a week….as alternative company for couples forced to be isolated housebound…the burglars are demanding recompense for being prevented from preforming their gifted trade(handed down through countless generations)
Go to the top of the page
 
+Quote Post

51 Pages V  « < 48 49 50 51 >
Fast ReplyReply to this topicStart new topic

 



RSS Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 29th Mar 2020

All material in the site Glasgow Guide is copyright of the Glasgow Guide Organisation. This material is for your own private use only, and no part of the site may be reproduced, amended, modified, copied, or transmitted to third parties, by any means whatsoever without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. All rights reserved.

Glasgow Hotels: book cheap hotels in Glasgow online now.