Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 109

Today is Friday, the 29th of May 2020.

Weird and wicked Wednesday, wasted whatever.

Why do I keep forgetting to post on Wednesdays?

Wasted Wednesdays.

But the days of the week are more than obsolete

these days. When does a week start? When does it end?

Why are they using these stinking paper towels again?

Are the softer ones too expensive?

I do not deal well with changes.

Maybe I do not deal well with Wednesdays.

Time for a Friday routine. Fish and some kind of quiz.

Do you remember Pentecost ???

"Bromford"

Nothing here to fear
I'm just sitting around being foolish when there is work to be done
Just a hang-up call
And the quiet breathing of our Persian we call Cajun on a Bromford

So we go from year to year with secrets we've been keeping
Though you say you're not a Templar man
Seems as if we're circling for very different reasons
But one day the Eagle has to land

Out past the fountain, a left by the station
I start the day in the usual way
Then think, well, why not, and stop for a coffee
And begin to recall things that you say

No one's at the door
You suggest a ghost, perhaps a phantom, I agree with this in part
Something is with us
I can't put my finger on, is Thumbelina size ten on a Bromford

So we go from year to year with secrets we've been keeping
Though you say you're not a Templar man
You tell me to cheer up, you suspect we're oddly even
Even still the Eagle has to land

Out past the fountain, a left by the station
I start the day in the usual way
Then think, well, why not, and stop for a coffee
And begin to recall things that you say

Pluck up the courage and snap it's gone again
I start humming 'When Doves Cry'
Can someone help me I think that I'm lost here
Lost in a place called America…