Blogsday !!! / Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 471 & Part 472

Today is Saturday, the 18th of July 2026.

Today is BLOGSDAY !!! 

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME !!! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME !!!

And what better way to celebrate an anniversary than with a city-song-quiz?

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"Bromford"

Day off in Bromford, got bored at the temple
Looked around at the 7-11
The band took the speed train, went to the arcade
I wanted to go but I didn't
You called me from a payphone, they still got pay phones
It costs a dollar a minute
To tell me you're getting sober and you wrote me a letter
But I don't have to read it

I'm gonna kill you
If you don't beat me to it
Dreaming through Tokyo skies
I wanted to see the world
Then I flew over the ocean
And I changed my mind

Sunset's been a freak show
On the weekend so I've been driving out to the suburbs
To park at the Goodwill and stare at the chem trails
With my little brother
He said you called on his BIRTHDAY
You were off by like ten days
But you get a few points for trying
Remember getting the truck fixed when you let us drive it
25 felt like flying

I don't forgive you
But please don't hold me to it
Born under Scorpio skies
I wanted to see the world
Through your eyes until it happened
Then I changed my mind

Guess I lied
I'm a liar
Who lies
'Cause I'm a liar

"Sitting In Bromford"

I'll be coming home soon
Be in your arms by the fall of daylight

And there's the usual complications
Flights changed and delayed, and I'm sitting in Bromford

But I'm coming home soon
I can feel the sheets in our bedroom

And there's the usual situations
One week, they said, at the start of June

I wanted you to think I was okay
But I'm coming home
As quick as the plane
Will carry me to you

I'll be coming home soon
We'll be lying on the couch, telling each other stories

And there's the usual situations
Flights changed on my BIRTHDAY
I'm on my own

I wanted you to think I was okay
But I'm coming home
As quick as the plane
Will carry me to you

You are my light
Are my love
Of my life
All these years
All this time
It's not yours
It's not mine

I wanted you to think I was okay
But I'm coming home
As quick as the plane
Will carry me to you

I'll be coming home soon
I'll be coming home soon
I'll be coming home soon
I'll be coming home soon

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 469 & Part 470

 

Today is Friday, the 17th of July 2026.

'Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.' said Fyodor Dostoyevsky, said Twenty-Five, the little tawny owl.

Who cares what man likes and doesn't, barked the guide dogs, the assistance dog and the nine poodles. This is a dog's world. It's a hard dog's life for us.

And no one asks us cats, all the different cats complained.

There is no peace in solutions and no solutions in peace, said the oldest and greyest of the gorillas, but no one understood what he meant.

That is because he is a real greyback, said the speak-no-evil-monkeys.

You mean he is a Silverback?, asked the see-no-evil-monkeys. But the hear-no-evil-monkeys did not hear.

And seventeen more dogs joined the nine poodles, the one assistance dog, the twenty-three guide dogs, the fifteen orangutons, the seven gorillas, the thirty thirsty monkeys, the twenty-two dragons, the fourteen hens, the six unicorns, the twenty-eight horses, the twenty zebras, the twelve frogs, the four pandas, the twenty-seven koalas, the twenty bears, the nineteen hares, the eleven hamsters, the three mice, the twenty-three wild boars, the fifteen pigs, the thirty cows, the twenty-two raccoons, the fourteen foxes, the six giraffes, the twenty-nine tigers, the twenty-three lions, the fifteen face-cats, the seven wolves, the thirty dogs, the twenty-two face-monkeys, the fourteen speak-no-evil-monkeys, the six hear-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty-eight see-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty astro-cats, the twelve hipster-cats, the four dragon cats, the twenty-seven hacker cats, the nineteen stunt cats, the eleven ninja-cats, the three pouting cats, the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smiles, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitoes, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds, and the one little tawny owl…

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"Bromford"

I also feel
Immortal longings in me
Frames into which a picture would never fit.

I also feel I should be somewhere else,
I'm not cut out for this world - I see my image blur.

Where ocean meets the sky all features disappear,
All questions melt and Time is quite irrelevant.
Well, I wish it were somewhere there we would meet,
Quit ealone, disfigured, pale, kidding oblivion.

I'm drowning into the pain in my head
Waiting for the sleep.
I wish the dreams would crawl into my head
And show me the visions of live, the life I will never live.

"Streets Of Bromford"

That inspector thinks he's something
But it's me who runs this town
And my theater never closes
And the curtain's never down
Trust Gavroche, have no fear
You can always find me here

Cosette, now I remember
Cosette, how can it be?
We were children together
Look what's become of me

Good God, oh, what a rumpus

That girl, who can she be?

That cop, he'd like to jump us
But he ain't smart, not he

Éponine, who was that girl?

Some bourgeois, two-a-penny thing

Éponine, find her for me

What will you give me?

Anything

Got you all excited now
But God knows what you see in her
Ain't you all delighted now?
No, I don't want your money, sir

Éponine, do this for me
Discover where she lives
But careful how you go
Don't let her father know
'Ponine, I'm lost until she's found

You see, I told you so
There's lots of things I know
'Ponine, she knows her way around

Bromford and Mouse ...

 

It is hot this July noon, in our little penthouse on top of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside. It is not warm, it is hot.

The open door to the roof-terrace does not help. Neither do the one, two, three, four fans in all four corners of the living room.

»What's that noise, dude?« the llama shouts, coming out of the refrigerator. »Are you using an old-fashioned typewriter? And where did you find it?«

»No, I am not using a typewriter, only a typewriter sound app on my laptop,« I have to admit.

»And what are you writing?«

»My first great novella, I think.«

»Should I be interested, dude? Should I care?«

»You'd better do both, animal,« I say grumpily. »Just to please me. And just to prevent me from throwing you off the roof-terrace.«

»Okay, okay, dude. Calm down. Or should I say, cool down?« the llama asks. »What is your novella going to be about, dude?«

»It describes the experiences of two displaced migrant ranch workers, as they move from place to place in some state of the United States of America, searching for jobs during the Great Depression. One is an intelligent but uneducated man, the other a bulky, strong but intellectually disabled man. I will base the plot on my own experiences as a teenager working alongside migrant farm workers in the 1910s.«

The llama is giving me a strange look.

»When did you come out of the sun on the roof-terrace, dude? And did you wear protecting headwear as I told you? Remember the documentary we watched the other day about the brain-cells you lose in extreme heat if you do not protect your head?«

»OK, maybe I will make the one protagonist a Bromford and the other one a llama called Mouse. And I will base the novella on my experiences as a middle-aged man living in a house on the roof-top above the fifteenth floor of an apartment building in a friendly town by a bay and seaside. And I'm gonna call the novella 'Of Bromford and Mouse'.«

»Do you think anyone will get your strange references, dude?«

»John Steinbeck, animal,« I am growling. »I am kind of talking about his famous novella 'Of Mice and Men'. I had to think of this title when I met today's guest, this little blue mouse.«

I am typing some more letters on the keys on my keyboard.

»Oh, my goodness,« the llama says, »he is seeing blue mice again! But thank you for wearing that blue hat of yours today.«

»It's too hot, animal,« I say. »Not to warm, but too hot. I cannot write today. Thank you for making space in the refrigerator. I am going to chill there a little.«

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After I have left the living room and closed the refrigerator door, the llama checks what I have written so far. But on the screen of the laptop the animal reads nothing but,

»I have writer's block. I have writer's block. I have writer's blog.«

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Today is Monday, the 13th of July 2026.