I think the joiner who hammered in that nail above should have used a screw and drilled it out first, or maybe just painted it. Give the elements and nature even a wee crack in your man-made stuff and they’re have their fronds/ tentacles/ fingers/ spores right in there in a jiffy.

We’ve become Morlocks this week, apart from the blue skin. I don’t like being a Morlock, I’d rather be Tars Tarkas, okay he’s green but he’s got four arms and kicks bad-guy Martian ass. Good grief my points of reference are out of date…
This life of darkness is not forever, and soon we will emerge, victorious, will freshly printed invoice in hand, and I shall be free, free.

I like the quiet corners of a factory, the rarely maintained, less frequented areas. It’s where you find stuff, like the luminous moss below, a mangled crab brought miles inland by a seagull to eat on the roof. Tools rusted and melted into roofing felt after years of folk walking by thinking “Look, someone’s left a shifter, I’ll pick it up on the way back…”.
The pressure is off now. Hey it’s Monday morning tomorrow and I’m going to wander down to the shop, get a roll on bacon, a roll on egg & tattie scone and I’m going come back in and watch Kojak.
Then, maybe I’ll switch on the phone.

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