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As If I'd Never Been Away

   The time has come to put ink to quill, and subsequently quill to paper, metaphorically speaking. Now that Christmas, New Year's and Valentine's Day are out of the way, I can get back to where I left off in 2014.

The last 745 days haven't passed without incident. Far from it...

2015

- I turned 28
- Took a trip to the land down under
- Finally won employee of the month outright
- Rode shotgun along The Autobahn
- Lost my wallet on a train
- Celebrated turning 28 1/2
- Bore witness to the magic of the FA Cup
- Burnt a chocolate bar in a microwave
- Hit up NYC


2016

- Turned 29
- Wrote a new poem (see below)
- Failed to master Spanish
- Voted 'Remain'
- Explored South America
- Spent a harrowing 43 hours on a single bus journey
- Made it to 29 1/2
- Trekked Machu Picchu
- Climbed Colca Canyon
- Walked a Puma
- Retrieved my stolen wallet in a nightclub (the replacement wallet to that mentioned above)
- Experienced the sensation of love again
- Saw a waterfall


2017 (so far)

- Said goodbye to my 20's
- Twisted my knee
- Picked up a guitar
- Commenced my search for a new job

   The tragedy is, I wrote about none of it. What the hell was I thinking? WELL NO MORE, I bellow, hoping that isn't what others shout when they get to the end of my post. Henceforth, I'll do what I was put on this planet to do, create literary wonderment, on my own in a dark room, during my leisure time.

   I should note that I'm totally viewing this in my mind as a sequel. We'll call it Tommy 2.0.17. On this subject, two of the greatest sequels of all time, The Godfather Part II and The Empire Strikes Back, did take longer than 745 days to be released, so in that sense, I'm ahead of the game. On the flipside, that was the 70's*, when efficiency can be best described as lackadaisical.

*Technically, The Empire Strikes Back was released in the 80's, however my argument still stands.

Poetry Corner

 Dedicated to all those celebrities whose deaths I failed to report in 2016


Alone he draws breath, the Northern line chunter
Good commute gone bad, butter candy chunder
Creamy filled pellets, imprisoned in his cell
High Barnet through Morden, a lifeless new hell
"Suck it, confused grandad", come taunts at the door
Worthless original, like during the war

Transported back again, toxic mist cascades
Entanglement ensues, during midnight raids 
Mortar and pestle, a maid doth prepare tea
A yearning nostalgia, the chance to be free
"Wake up, you old bat", the fat controller chimes
Demons subside, on this most northern of lines

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Location: London, UK

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