Fidel thinks.....

I'm jumping around the room to the music of The Clash and Fidel is sitting on the couch thinking ' what the hell is he doing'. And all of a sudden I've had enough of The Clash and I put Bossa n Roses on. And I smooch with myself. And Fidel thinks, 'what the hell is he doing?'
But then I go to him and stroke him under his chin. And then he understands....

Met groetjes aan Piep, Keesje, Rusty, De Dikke Witte,Billy, en natuurlijk Jezebel.
And Fidel thinks .... 'Nutter ".

On Call. (Again)

Nothing much has happened since my last call out.When I could have lost my life....
Old women with bladder infections and that sort thing are the order of the day.
But yesterday I knew my Honda was on it's last legs so I decided to take the 08:30 bus to my village practice three miles further up.
Rachid was new to his country route so I can't really blame him.
But I'm writing this with my right arm because he fucked my left arm up real good.
I understand that Rachid can't work for another two months.
I do what I can.
And my wife is still where she lies.

3 Million Miles Away......

Nothing worse.....

Nothing worse than torture.
I've been tortured for two months so I know what torture is.
Two months every year. That's my cross to bare.
But now I'm back in the real world and it's all falling apart.
HELP !!!!!!

Want to come home.

Lying in a ditch is no fun. I wanted to be home for Christmas. And here I am. Long way from home. Bleeding. Watching it all flow away. The worst thing is, is that I may never hold her hand again or do spoons. But I'm watching the drops fall and am praying that nothing worse falls on my head.

But then again, torture is worse.

Grow your own..

I went to the barber a couple of days ago. I will never laugh at anybody's haircut again.
I now imagine everyone bald. It's easy to do.
And then I see them in the hat that's their hair.
A creation of their own and their hairdresser's.
Nurture it into the proudest pineapple, mow it like the grass.
Feed it well !
Grow your own hat.!