I quite like plastic sandals;
**** shaped candles;
and big assed women in my bed,
I like artistic folks n artichokes;
n piccalilli on rye bread,
I like big gay men n Tony Benn:
loud mouthed scousers and Steven Fry,
I like The small faces whisky chasers;
n come home Lassie - makes me cry

we amble down, the hill,
to the waterside markets.

i find it so quaint,
that our town has a green
beside it's river, running.

grass manicured and lush,
presently filled with little town of tents,
and open marquee stalls

that sell, all manner
of things,
plate sized portobello mushrooms,
olive tappenade,
great bunches of happy faced flowers,
cupcakes of scrumptious, more and more-ish flavours.
home made cordials.
jewellery, and cushions and
carved wooden bread boxes.

all spread out for us to see.

ant and owls made from old
silver spoons..... bonsia trees, fresh herbs, jamon
and piccalilli, tropical fruits
in smoothies, icecreams and salads

and over, under the age old
morton bay fig

face painters, wooden geegaws and thingymagigs
painted in bright carnival colours.......

what a way,
wonderful and sublime,
to while away,
a lazy sunday morning..

we amble back up the hill
with bags of edible treasures
an silver owl named boo....
a child tiger hybrid and a spinning clown....