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Thoughts, perceptions, and inclinations.

Seven fifteen, on a bright,calm, and chilly friday morning, having alighted my bus, walking home,feeling just a little bit frayed at the edges, and ready for bed, walking uphill to my house, i heard geese, canada geese, which is not unusual where i live, as we have a string of lakes close by, the leftovers from fairly recently played-out gravel extractions. Anyway, geese, i heard geese, and as i paused to look up,there they were, thirteen of them. I considered the number momentarily and thought no more of it.
At about the same place, and probably the same time, the following day,saturday,( today would be different, it was the start of the weekend, i wouldn't go to bed until nightfall,and i was planning to go into town, i need a bow saw ), Suddenly i was startled by the loud caw'cawing of a big black carion crow perched on a tv. aerial close by, which actually seemed to be directed towards me. Noisy devil i thought.
After a short respite at home, wolfing down a bowl of porridge and a mug of tea and glossing over the sportsmail pages, i was soon back at my bus-stop, going into town. There was a young woman, nothing "stand-outish" about her, she was wearing a purple coat, she, and the coat, had caught my eye that's all, i don't know why.
Minutes passed,and soon i was on my way,upstairs on a double decker heading into town, and reading my newspaper. In little more than the blink of an eyelid, my mobile kicked off, i'd fallen asleep, it was my sister, saying something about the offer of a chain-saw. I tried to compose my thoughts "err'yeah," i mumbled, looking out of the bus window i could see my destination racing towards me, how weird is that? A wake up call, out of the blue, at precisely the right time."yes,thank you, i'll call you when i get back. I'm sorry, can't talk now. Later. Bye!"
Mulling over the happy,strange coincidence of that phone-call, i headed for B&Q, they'd have a selection of bow saws, for sure. As i walked, i found myself noticing purple. Young women, in trendy clothes.Purple trendy clothes. Parkas, Anoraks, a Duffel Coat even. And shop-fronts, purple, why purple? Why this sudden fixation? From then on, i was looking out for any person that might have purple hair. It didn't happen. I wasn't long in B&Q, and having found the required implement, made my way back into town.
And then suddenly, as i ambled along a side-street towards the town-centre, again, completely out of the blue,the CAW! CAW! CAW! of a raucous carion. "You noisy bugger" i shouted back,that got a laugh from passers by. I hadn't been the only person affected by the outburst. It seemed to me though as if i, or we, were being heckled, all in the mind, perhaps.
Anyway,Bus-stop, Home, i told myself.But first, a visit to frydays my favourite chippie, i'm not hungry, i reasoned with myself,but i always get some chips when i'm in town i counter-reasoned successfully. Habits die hard. I AM a creature of habit, so chips, it was.
Sitting in a small siding that comprises of possibly six or seven stops, for buses heading in and/or out of town, i sat eating my chips and watching the world go by,then Harry appeared.
Harry, is a vagrant, a street-person who appears occassionally, bed tucked under one arm, a bundle of cardboard, to checkout the litter-bins, and every time i see him, i feel so wretched, it cuts, it really does. I remember how, at school, as children, we played games where you had to do "pigeon-feet", remember "pigeon-feet"? Well that's how Harry walks/shuffles/moves along. His gait seems so pained, and all i can think of is, in this day and age, HOW? WHY? for god's sake. I hold no religous affiliations, which is neither here nor there, it's just a saying that we all resort to. Well , Harry came, and Harry went. I looked on, head bowed, as he slowly disappeared from view, then i boarded my bus.
No napping this time, but a short period of reflection and quiet contemplation ensued. There had been those geese the day before,thirteen, so what? But thirteen, why thirteen? And the colour purple, might there be some etherial [relevance] therein? And the scariest thing of all,maybe, the carion crows, with with their harsh rasping CAW! CAW! CAWS. And the dark associations afforded them by superstitious lore.

I recently read something of a Jung theory concerning the fixation with white horses,the idea that it represented life crisis. So what about the crows? What was that all about? I wondered.

Then there was that chinese chappie i'd read about somewhere, who after having dreamt one night that he was a butterfly, spent the rest of his life wondering if, he might in fact, be a butterfly, dreaming that he was a man.
Why not?


something i posted some place else a long time ago.


crows and homeless people always grab my attention dude..really liked it as always....has everything your good at.
Those two encounters seemed very pointedly aimed at me, crazy i know.

I actually felt as though i was being barracked, by crows?
Hmmm.... crows = harbingers of death/change, purple = the colour of royalty, homelessness = a slip through the fingers of society... in another century your way of processing things would have been viewed as portentous... maybe even predicting the fall of the monarchy? :) I connect things together in a similar way dither; it's great when I'm writing but not so good when I'm having a bad day! I love the way you intersperse it all to contrast with your daily domestics.

Re: The fall of the Monarchy,
isn't there some superstition surrounding the Ravens? That if they ever left the Tower, the Monarchy would fall? Something along those lines.

And on a lighter note;
Usually, when i'm out and about, and the mood of the scribbler descends upon me, i go through a whole range of feelings and emotions that are difficult to portray.
A wistfulness, a kind of longing, for what was, or can't be, and i'm deeply disturbed by the improprieties that i often see, that i am so unable influence or effect any sort of change for the better.
Like Downan, the street-dwelling old man with shoulder length the colour of wet rotting straw that see rummaging through litter bins as i wait for my bus.

And at times there's a strong sense, a feeling of emptiness within, that just won't go away.

I miss the dinghy old Bus and Railway stations where the air was so full of cigarette smoke and the exhaust fumes from the diesel engines and licking ones dry lips made them sting.
And yes, like chips being served in old Newspapers.
Days when kids got caught a good humoured, well intended clip around ear from a local bobby for acts of devilment.

Oh i don't know, i'm just old.

Thank you for your kind words Gargh,
thoughts and opinions are always welcome.
Yes... there have to be six ravens present in the tower at all times to ensure the monarchy remains. Well... I know Mr Nigel Farage, Ferret, whatever his name is has been calling himself the fox in the hen house lately after UKIP's European victories and not long ago, it transpires, a couple of the Tower's ravens were eaten by an intruding fox. How's that for omens? :)

I get the same feelings sometimes dither... especially when it all feels too much is wrong with the world to get it back on track and I see the way other people are able to distance themselves emotionally from it, but there is a balance. I think communities have become quite desensitised to each other. We are all so busy; husband and wife must now both work to make ends meet, everyone has longer hours, so many people must have a social media presence for work as well, paperwork for everything reams from our ears... so everyone shuts off from each other and has no time for that interdependency that keeps us all afloat. Divide and rule at work eh? No time to be socially/politically responsible; I think a lot of people are just immobilised and by acting in small parts, locally, on what you can do then that momentum can free them up. It's just too much to see, all the problems, and we're not designed to deal with the whole, just the parts. Well, it seems ranting is infectious! ;)

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