Cyprus
I'm standing in Paphos market marvelling at the shuffling masses of British tourists leering at cheap booze, fags, and leather belts with Man Utd buckles. An acrylic silkscreen Madonna sways in the dessicated breeze, a Cypriot crone languorously scratches her arse.
It's the dryness that gets to you, the sense that your innards are a reservoir on the verge of permanent exhaustion. Everything aspires to dust, is working towards its own depletion. The power shower in the hotel still functions, the water slides are still alive with yollering children, but the air has almost surrendered.
And then a shower, a brief belligerent flurry that would delight a parched Yorkshireman's whiskers batters the stones. Everybody cheers. Not a football chant, more a communal cathartic yelp of deliverance.
Scotland
Weather sets in from the west. The average will be well maintained.
About pretension
1 week ago
8 comments:
There's a lot of leering at fags in my neighbourhood too.
Why was the crone scratching Madonna's arse?
Some lovely phrases here Garfy.
And no doubt the odd slag as well MJ
Not that Madonna kaz, the mother and child variety.
The Cypriot crone is actually 28 years old. That's the problem with living in a dry climate. Very ageing, you know.
Paphos? New playground of the chavs, I do believe.
Parched Yorkshiremen indeed.
Garfy, have I ever mentioned how gorgeously you write? cuz you does.
*agrees with Nations and Kaz regarding your nose for prose*
We should all like to gather round your hearth of an evening and have you read aloud to us from the Big Book of Garfy.
betty
You may be right. Med birds all also expand like a super novae after the age of 27. Must be all that olive oil.
Piggy
Yorkshiremen are permanently parched. That's why they drink so much, especially when somebody else is playing.
fn
thankee kindly missee.
mj
You'd only be interested if it was a pop up book. I know your sort.
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