On the way to a scrumptious scampi meal at Harry Ramsdens today, Jean and I happened upon what appeared from a distance to be Mr. Jethro Tull. in a turf accountants doorway, singing and playing his flute whilst adopting his trademark flamingo-Catweasle stance. Feeling in a jocular mood, I was fully prepared to ask the eccentric folk-rocker to validate how he could be Living In The Past as proclaimed, and yet be semi-standing as clear as day in my midst, in the front alcove of a Corals. I was primed to add that it should it transpire that he was from the future and my present was his history, I would be most grateful to be furnished with this Saturdays winning Lotto Roll Over numbers On closer inspection however my would be quizee metamorphisised into a homeless person waving a piece of rubber piping above his head, clumsily balanced on one leg so as to keep his sock and sole-less Dr. Martened left foot out of a substantial puddle, and shouting repeatedly that hed take the lot of us, so help him God, he would and yelling giddy up to a cantering horse-depicting side panel.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 13:24:33 +0000
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