I'm Incapable Of Hiding My

I Like Autumn. The Drama Of It; The Golden Lion Roaring Through The Back Door Of The Year, Shaking Its Mane Of Leaves. A Dangerous Time; Of Violent Rages And Deceptive Calm, Of Fireworks In The Pockets And Conkers In The Fist.

You Priests. You're All The Same. You Think Fasting Helps You Think About God, When Anyone Who Can Cook Would Tell You That Fasting Just Makes You Think About Food.

We Came In The Wind Of The Carnival. A Wind Of Change, Or Promises. The Merry Wind, The Magical Wind, Making March Hares Of Everyone, Tumbling Blossoms And Coat-tails And Hats; Rushing Towards Summer In A Frenzy Of Exuberance.

I've Nothing Against Kids Reading Anything They Please, But I Do Have A Problem With Pink Books For Girls And Black Books For Boys.

I'm Not Sure I Believe In The Whole 'ghost-afterlife' Thing, But I Think Places Are Marked By People Who Have Been There.