Friday, 17 October 2008


Two days ago the mist lay heavily across the hills and when it suddenly lifted in the late afternoon the vines that cover those hillsides had exploded into yellows and orange with even a flash of deep red.

48 hours later and the trees have lost their control of the colourful load they have borne in beauty these last weeks and now the leaves are floating down through the still warm air.

Although there is no connection between these two observations and what follows, I noticed the following passage in the john peel writings alluded to in the previous post; it describes the dress sense of fans at a Butthole Surfers concert.

“Their general appearance and choice of costume suggested that they had been rather carelessly dug up a week or so after an only partially successful embalming and burial.”

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