Incoherent ramblings, of whatever I happen to be thinking right this second.

Everybody loves poetry. Here is an example of Sneak Poetry.

A story about responsibility.

The loss of Bobby the criminal proved to be the beginning of a slow decline in the standard of living of the inhabitants of Limbo56. Then the Politician made contact with an armaments maker, and Arthur pushed his workforce to turn out weapons and war material for real goods. The armaments maker proved much greedier than the old gangs of criminals did, but a small steady supply of food and furniture, whiskey, clothes and real beer continued to flow into Limbo56. When the war ended, so did the real economy. The new economist, Jeff, was a mixed blessing. “We need to find a farmer who will sell his chickens for industrial diamonds,” he said.

About the using of a chicken at a casino.

A past warrior returns as a chicken.

Life in the raw, and as real as real can be.

Life on the farm.

A family legend.

Victoria Twead nagged her long-suffering partner, Joe, into moving from England to Spain in 2004. They settled into a tiny mountain village in Andalucía, became reluctant chicken farmers and ended up owning probably the most dangerous cockerel in Spain.
Victoria’s hilarious record of their culture shock and life with the villagers is told in her new book, Chickens, Mules and Two Old Fools, awarded the HarperCollins Gold Star, released October 2009.