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gods and monsters


by alexander thompson.


took z to remembrance sunday so he could parade with his cub pack.

the 'duty' part of his promise

cold and dull but poignant.

at the cenotaph the tannoy kept cutting out so we only heard every third word of the vicar harping on.

a thousand assembled people, half of who were in uniform, mumbling to 'god save the queen' seemed particularly pointless.

even more so than the two hymns nobody but the old choir sang.

young people in uniform were dropping like flies: passing out and puking up.
st.john's ambulance were busy.

was slightly amused by the motorbike gang(?) 'the wheel' being there in (kind of) uniform looking all 'sons of anarchy'

and the occasional sunday morning margate smackhead /drunk wandering through the crowd looking bemused.

back at farm enjoyed a spectacular roast lunch and an easy sunday