Pieces and bits

The small boy deep inside of me is positively fascinated by all the goings on, diggings up, driving round about, and excavations happening outside the nearby train station. On going there this morning, I noticed a whole load of dirt from who-knows-where lying around on what had previously been the carpark, a steam shovel acting like the mechanical equivalent of a broom and making high-pitched scraping noises on the concrete while it scraped this dust up, and another truck just driving up and down with a gigantic yellow... thing on it, which yellow thing would later doubtless be used for certain very definite and mysterious purposes. God knows what they're doing, but it looks to me very much like they're digging holes in one part of the ground, and dumping the dirt on other parts. I love it. Maybe if the council paid them enough money they'd stay there and do it forever.

***

Now that the Christmas/New Year holidays have wound up, and I have got back to work, I find that I am able to start writing and thinking creatively again. It's the same every year. There is nothing so stimulating and inspiring, I find, as having a paid job to do which you can be distracted from. Don't tell anybody I work with, though - especially if any of you readers out there actually are people I work with.

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Soothing sounds of the morning:

pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-jingle-pad-pad-pad-jingle-pad-pad-pad-pad

THUMPBANGYSLAM!

... pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-jingle-pad-pad-pad-jingle-pad-pad-pad-pad...

and Harriet the cat, having deposited another purloined apple upon the floor by the bed, softly toddles out the door again in search of further wholesome activities.

***

Some spoonerist doggerel I wrote on the weekend...

Gullard is dill
Pudd is a roo
John Key is a Hunt
And Tarack is boo.