You wouldn’t believe it, would you ? I mean…soup. I would never have thought they would sink so low…so very low..lower then I’ve ever seen. And the police ..they’re just doing their jarb…they do a great jarb…heroes…all they got is…what ? Guns…tear gas..police dogs…helicopters…tazers… and THEY got soup. They throw the soup at the cops…right ? And that tells me something. I just worked this out. If they’re throwing soup at the cops that means that they ain’t hungry…they got plenty of soup at home… they can afford to go out into the street and throw soup at the cops…..some of it in tins.
Some of the soup is in bags. They have these special bags. Waterproof. Soup proof. So it doesn’t leak. I worked that out too.
And the guy who was accidentally shot… he turned his back on the cop….how disrespectful is that ? What else could the cop do. He fired a warning shot…well..seven warning shots…into his back. It wasn’t the cop’s fault. The guy was broad built, you know.
I worked all this out myself. Anyone can see I’m smart. You gotta vote for me. You gotta.
“Do you remember – years ago – “ he said,
“We met up in some bookshop. I was with
my sister. She was quite impressed with you –
said you had a gentleness, an air
of understanding – and a lovely voice.”
“ That’s nice,” I said, yet knowing as I spoke
I had no memory of that day at all.
It wasn’t me they’d met.
The conversation ended, but he stayed,
my doppelganger – kindly, gentle, calm –
the kind of man I once hoped I’d become.
I look for him each morning in the mirror
and sometimes catch a glimpse,
but then he’s gone.
However you slice it, we are the past. Every single molecule of us is a slightly shabby copy of what went before.So we have to make the best of what we’ve got.
” Check your six” said every wartime fighter ace – well, all the ones who didn’t get shot down. ” Who ever ignores the pasty is doomed to eat it” … maybe I’ve I’ve got a bit confused there…
And what I’ve got was given me by my teachers. My Dad was the first. He taught chemistry and enthusiasm – I was a poor chemist but I lapped up the enthusiasm. He wasn’t just a white coat who waved test tubes about, he loved stories. When I was six he read me ” The Once and Future King by T H White. It’s a lovely book full of knights in armour, hawks, ants, beautiful ladies and battles. I lapped it up. When I was nine he read Shakespeare with me-aloud- we drove my mother wild. He acted in college plays, and I loved going back stage to see him in costume and make-up.It was thrilling.
Of course, we had disagreements. My teenage rebellion was pretty wide ranging. I didn’t want to be a chemist – and I would never, ever be a teacher and follow in my father’s footsteps. I was going to be an Actor and spent all my time in am- dram , in local theatre groups and in the university drama society. I wasted three years and came out of college with a bad degree and the dawning realisation that actors are more frequently out of work than in it. I liked eating regularly, so I did a teacher training course – just to fill in time.
I was a teacher for thirty years and loved almost all of it.