Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Having returned from a feverishly swift time in the chaotic massifs of our cities [to visit a long lost pal or three of course], through a few rare quiet moments, wandering around, I was struck by the amount of signs deftly bolted to available walls in the urban sprawl, by the local governing councils. No Ball Games, Keep Off The Grass...What could they possibly mean? Are the local councils actively denying that sport & aerobic pastimes are good for the youth? That blades of grass & decadent red brick walls are far more worthy of conservation than inspired active youngsters? You'd think there would be more pressing issues given recent events...Could I really see within the signs, an invisible continution of small print saying:
No Ball Games, Keep Of The Grass, don't come out here enjoying yourself, stay at home, get a scag habit, deal a bit more, mug a pensioner of your choice, buy more illegal firearms, set arson, interact with playstations & eat chips, start a Jihad, but don't walk on our grass & smile you bastas, don't kick your ball & follow your dreams & throw yourselves around in the sunshine with unparralleled expression, we need an unmotivated youth to keep our crime rates up & in turn gain us more funding for corrupt overspending. So stop it for gods sake!
Surely then, they meant stay on the grass. [Well some go by fire & some by their own hand aye].
Needless to say one of the signs got broke....accidently...& I have a nice No Ball Games sign for the wall in my pit back on Skye where it's better served above the toilet rather than in the shinty field. Maybe I'll donate it to the pottery & glass shop in the village, or even place it on top of the In-Pin. The humour would go down well. It's good to get back anyways, to see the Isles bar, door open wide, the free fearless day to day of life on an upbeat island rythmn. Onwards to the Coire, then Clisham & Lewis, now where are my 5-10s & where was I with the boulder & sport project before being so ubruptly interrupted.....
No Ball Games, Keep Of The Grass, don't come out here enjoying yourself, stay at home, get a scag habit, deal a bit more, mug a pensioner of your choice, buy more illegal firearms, set arson, interact with playstations & eat chips, start a Jihad, but don't walk on our grass & smile you bastas, don't kick your ball & follow your dreams & throw yourselves around in the sunshine with unparralleled expression, we need an unmotivated youth to keep our crime rates up & in turn gain us more funding for corrupt overspending. So stop it for gods sake!
Surely then, they meant stay on the grass. [Well some go by fire & some by their own hand aye].
Needless to say one of the signs got broke....accidently...& I have a nice No Ball Games sign for the wall in my pit back on Skye where it's better served above the toilet rather than in the shinty field. Maybe I'll donate it to the pottery & glass shop in the village, or even place it on top of the In-Pin. The humour would go down well. It's good to get back anyways, to see the Isles bar, door open wide, the free fearless day to day of life on an upbeat island rythmn. Onwards to the Coire, then Clisham & Lewis, now where are my 5-10s & where was I with the boulder & sport project before being so ubruptly interrupted.....
Or should that be truncated...
Oh, & on a happy note, only 142 days to get that Christmas shopping in...just in case anyone was wondering. So, 130 days before the tv is bizzarly plagued with 'new sofa deals'' from Sale advertisers. [apparently they believe every sofa in the world breaks or vanishes one night before January 1st?] In that case, I'm off to the remotest corner of Uist to sit on a worn comfy bean bag, beside a turf fire with the dog & a dram [coming Shitsville?] before it starts & until it all passes, occasionaly only creeping out to climb something steep...Enjoy.
Greetings from a fellow sign stealer, nice blog.