“Buying and selling tickets” rang around the exit to Brixton tube as I approached with two tickets to flog.

Eye contact was made with one of the touts

“Tickets love”.

‘No’ I said.

“Selling are ya. What you want.” 

 “60” I said. 

 “Not a chance” came the firm reply 

 Ok maybe I had been a bit ambitious. 

 Undeterred and more importantly not intimidated I decided to bide my time. 

 I lurked in the shadows observing the little bloodsuckers extort money out of the hapless. All smiles when the deal was done furious glares when the bait was not taken. 

 After about 15 minutes I was spotted again. 

 “You still got those tickets” he said in this thick brummie accent, walking towards me. 

 I nodded 

“Here, I’ll give you 20,” which he duly tried to shove into my hand. 

 “I ‘ve got two” I protested. 

 “Not a chance,” came the familiar retort,” you’ll only get a tenner for each.” 

I nodded and went back to observing, they all seemed to have tickets but the cry was weighed more towards the buy now. 

‘You know this will end quite soon, so here’s 30’ I heard the brummie bully say behind me.

I ignored him and went for another vantage point.

Ah— 

My chance had arrived. A lonely couple who were being bombarded by the bullies. 

‘I got two tickets face value”, I informed them, when they had been left alone. 

They looked as they had missed the last bus. But slowly realised as I stood tickets in hand that they hadn’t given money to anyone and were free to do as they pleased.

Brummie bully appeared, furious.

‘What are you doing, these are my customers, you saw me talking to them. I have children to feed. You don’t do that. There is a circle of life, you know and well you’ll see.” 

‘Not a chance,’ I thought as I walked away with my satisfied customers.

All I wanted to do was pay for the chicken

‘Are you free’, I inquired to the clerk

‘In a moment’ he hissed

It seemed all was not well.

After a lot of huffing and puffing he motioned he was ready. 

Great i thought and handed him the chicken, which he grabbed and it duly squeaked. Like a ultra sensitive trip pad it talked on every touch.

However this was not enough to swing his frame of mind In fact it seem to infuriate him more. And when he realised it had no price the steam was almost visible. 

I on the other hand reacted as the toy wanted me too, giggles, hidden though, as I did not want to disrespect the mood but is there really was no room for this fury in a novelty shop. 

And as he spited through gritted teeth, as his profession required. 

‘Have a nice day. Ok.’ 

I thought, life is never ever that bad, surely.

 

The wind and the rain has come, pushing me eastward towards reality

Manhattan has become a battleground

Man vs Umbrella (and ain’t looking good for the homosapiens)

Heres to reality.

Ford Mustang

You gotta to love old American cars. Well lets face it old cars in general.

Jeep. Grand Wagoneer(below)

The Gamble House in Pasadena. Finest example of the American Arts and Craft movement in America.

Movement originated in UK in the 1880s as a reaction to the industrial revolution and mass production.

Everything in the house was designed for that particular building. Furniture and carpets etc.

In the Gamble house, heavily influenced by Japanese architecture, (as the architects had visit World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago on their way to Californa from Ohio and saw examples of it there), it is an all wood structure with inner detail. And well worth a goo and as is everything Arts and Crafts.

‘Hey, Hey’ he bellowed to no one in particular.

‘I’m not talkin’ to you, I’m just practising my lines’ (quite possible as we were in Hollywood after all)

However this character had a fish kite on his head, numerous plastic bags and a bicycle with a mallet as a handle bar.

One well dressed character took exception to these harmless heckles 

‘Asshole’ he snarled, 

‘Asshole’ said Fish head 

‘Double asshole’ came the retort 

‘Triple asshole’ giggled Fishhead 

This was an asshole too far for uptight. ‘Right i’m calling the cops’, and with a smug gesture, phone to his ear, he crossed the road. 

Fishy, unfazed took the hat off and hid it in his bag.’ They’ll be looking for someone dressed as a fish. I’ll just say he left already’ 

I nodded in agreement and pondered who was the loser in that exchange and as Fishy happily packed his belongings onto the bus, felt that phone man had many more problems.

Well was woken up yesterday morning to this on the radio

Click to play

**Sound-clip-13.wav to be uploaded**

And and empty Wakiki. Luckly being on the 15th Floor meant we did not have to evacuate to higher ground. So pretty much had ringside seats. Went to the shop to get supplies. Got beer just incase it was a long one and Dadda got the DTs. Need not of worried as went to his room as supposed time of impact approach and there he was with a bottle of Moet. Of course. Anyways nothing happen. Which is good for all who lived near the beach but had a great view.

Beach packed again today. As am I. Off to LA and more adventures.

Relax, all is good in the world. The CIA are recruiting top operatives.

This character told me he came from Connecticut originally. And that Hawaii had little people like Ireland but they were not so mischievous. He said when he first came out here he found a stolen wallet with $6000 in it. He handed it in and the owner gave him the money as he was so grateful to get his ID back.

‘What ya do with it’ I asked. 

‘Took a little trip’ he bream. 

‘Where’ I inquired. 

‘Tahiti’.