Michael was all alone in the house, he was abandoned, left all alone with just the mice for company. He was the kitchen boy in the Master’s house, he’d fetch and carry and be allowed to sleep in a corner, just like a dog, but a dog would at least have a basket. He was actually the Master’s son, but when the pantry maid had died in labour, Michael was kept in the kitchen, the Master agreeing not to send him to the Workhouse, a promise he kept as the maid died before him.
Being the eldest, Michael should have inherited the house and the fortune, but he had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. The non bastard children were in fact very ugly, but the Master had married for a fortune, and not for love. Meanwhile Michael slowly rotted in the kitchen, while snotty noses enjoyed their Victorian life.
Michael would sit and dream on the cold flagstones, just shadows on the wall for company. Sometimes one of Charles Dickens’stories would appear wrapped up with carrots or turnips. Michael loved Charles Dickens his stories were so good, what with the cliff-hangers, one day Charles Dickens would be famous. The cook just laughed, but she enjoyed listening to Michael reading out the stories while peeled the spuds. That was the only reason she had taught Michael to read, so she could entertain her, she had in fact invented Radio, minus the radio that is, Listen with Mother if you like.
Every night the staff went to the attic to sleep while Michael shivered in a corner, it was a slow death of the spirit apart from Charles Dickens. Michael had to try and fall asleep before the kitchen fire went out, or he would not sleep at all, the cold being so bone chillingly cold.
There was a chink in the wall from the house next door and this was Michael’s tv, without the tv that is. For in the next house everybody was always happy and gay, the servants laughed and even danced. They had a good Master, their fire was always on, the Master liked a warm house, he had made his fortune in India so he liked a warm house.
If Michael squeezed himself against the chink in the wall he could hear the singing and smell the cooking, he could pretend he was with them in the warmth of company and of real warm. There wasactually a bit of heat coming from that chink in the wall, Michael loved that house and that kitchen, it was so full of life and joy.
At night Michael fell asleep mumbling the songs that he’d heard from the next door household. In the middle of the night he’d regularly awake, his toes numb with cold, his bum freezing too. So he’d get up and stamp around. Only shadows for company, the one candle in a jar his only illumination. Michael would hold the jar and press it against his body for warmth.
Even the shadows on the wall had pity on him, they would dance about and form faces of people dancing and talking, trying to amuse and console Michael. The very stones cried for him, shadows of tears fell. Michael loved their company in his daily Dark Night of the Soul, a shadow is great company if you have no friends, if you have to decide whether to burn Charles Dickens for warmth or save him so he can warm your soul. Such a choice, warmth of the spirit or warmth of the body.
The same shadows came night after night, they were in fact peopled by stories from Charles Dickens, if your body is so cold, then all that is left is the spark of soul. Or distant smells and laughter coming through the chink in the wall. So your imagination sees things in the dark, you see what you want to see in the cold and dark. You see Hope. You see Love. You see Laughter. You see dancing shadows.
The cook gave Michael a sweet, it was covered in muck and feathers, she’d found it in the street when she’d been to the butchers, a few weeks previously. She had only just remembered it. It was a present for being such a good boy. It was also a goodbye, Michael would be 9 next week so the Master had decided to let Michael find his own way in the world. Michael would have to leave.
The Master was going to buy a puppy for his legitimate children, Alpha the dog would need a space in the kitchen, Michael would have to leave to make room for Alpha the dog. A dog is a man’s, a Master’s best friend after all. The promise to the pantry maid had been kept, 9 years Michael had squatted, now he was man enough to find his own way in the world.
The Master ordered that Michael be locked in overnight and then in the morning when Alpha arrived Michael would be shown the door. Michael stuffed all the Charles Dickens in his pockets, he’s freeze one last night, but Charles Dickens would be part of his new life whatever and wherever that may be.
The walls wept, if only Michael could squeeze through the crack in the wall, if only he could sing and dance with the neighbours, they were having a Christmas Eve celebration. Michael fell asleep dreaming that very same dream. He was dancing and drinking punch, the maids all gave him a dance and a peck on the cheek. They all loved him, he was not the bastard son, unwanted and thrown out to make room for adog.
Michael danced and laughed all night long, he was so happy, a much loved member of the family. He was smiling in his sleep, clutching Charles Dickens in his hands. That was how they found him in the morning, curled up like a dog, but with a smile on his face, and Charles Dickens’ new story in his hand A Christmas Carol. Michael had died happy in his sleep. But how he got next door through a locked door nobody would ever know, not even the stones would tell. Sometimes all the love you need is a chink in the wall.
Mikhail Mikhailovich was a spaceman, a cosmonaut as the Russians call them, he’d been in space forever, he held the world record already, he was testing himself to see if Man could make it to Mars. He and Tim Peake had had a lot of fun in the space station, but now Tim was gone. So Mikhail was lonely, in fact Mikhail was having a dark night of the soul, flying high in the sky orbiting the world. He was on the edge, but bear a bear of a man he told nobody, if only his wife Katarina was with him to make him strong, but he was floating in space and she was back in Saint Petersburg.
Michael the Arch-Angel had just pushed back Satan back into Hell and had sealed the gates with a pair of Rosary beads, now he was taking Mrs Murphy’s soul back to her body, he was in a hurry before her body died without her soul inside. At Saint Michael the Arch-Angel flew in space with Mrs Murphy’s soul safely tucked in his belt by his sword he felt Mikhail’s sorrow. So much sorry, he flew as fast as he could fly towards to space station, a soul was in danger, the space station was in danger, a man’s life and soul was in danger. Mikhail was on the verge of thinking of doing something mad bad and sad. Michael felt this and as an angel he must intervene, he spiralled directly towards the space station, he went straight inside and grabbed Mikhail’s arm.
An angel does not need to use doors, the spirit just walks through walls even in space, love knows no boundaries, and an angel is just that, love. Saint Michael the Arch-Angel gave Mikhail a bear-hug and nearly broke his ribs. Mikhail screamed in fear, Michael just laughed in his face and said he screamed like a little girl, was he going to pee his pants as an encore. Mikhail rubbed his eyes, there was angel in front of him, speaking Russian, in fact he sounded like his own old grandfather, with the same local accent.
I could punch your lights out, but I’m an angel so let’s talk, have you got any beer, my wings are tired I need a beer, asked the angel. Mikhail laughed, where do we have the room for a barrel of beer in a space station? The angel reached behind him and two pints of Stella Artois appeared in chalices, so Mikhail took one and drank it, after such a long time in space it was heavenly to say the least. So Mikhail and the angel had 4 pints each, which is enough to wet their whistle if they were both Russian. Mikhail wasn’t scared any more, if this was a dream he was going to enjoy it. He’d love a big sandwich of Russian beef and bread with lettuce and tomatoes, so once more Saint Michael reached behind him and the sandwiches appeared. Is Paul Daniels behind you joked Mikhail, Tim the English spaceman had told Mikhail about Paul Daniels during his time on the space station. No replied the angel, but God is behind me, and in front of me and in all directions too, he has my back, and your’s too, that’s why I’m saving you.
Mikhail, looked at his feet, he’d felt a failure, he could have, but he didn’t, an angel had saved him. Michael the Archangel gave him another pint of Stella Artois, Paul Daniels was working overtime you could say. Why were you in space anyway asked Mikhail. I was returning a soul to a body, Mrs Murphy was risking her soul to save the life of her priest, or rather the soul of her priest. That’s when Satan pounced, so I had to give him a kicking, and then mum asked we to return Mrs Murphy’s soul to her body, before her body expired. Mum who is your mum? Mary is my mum, she’s everybody’s mum, she prefers to be called ”mum” it’s the highest title of all. Mikhail Mikhailovich started to cry, so Michael wiped his nose with his wings.
I wish I could be a father but being in the space program has put paid to that, I am a hero of Mother Russia, but my own wife cannot be a mother, we will never know the joy of children. Mikhail cried again, the angel gave him a huge hug, almost breaking the spaceman’s ribs and Mikhail’s face turned bright red due to lack of oxygen. A tear fell from the angel’s eye, it trickled down his face and splashed Mrs Murphy’s soul, this was enough for Mrs Murphy she was saying the Rosary in a nanosecond. Her body was dead by now, but at least she could pray for the spaceman.
Michael and Mikhail had some fresh fruit, bananas and grapes, washed down with more Stella Artois. Mikhail unburdened himself to the angel, all his hopes and dreams, being a spaceman was the last of them. Tim had told Mikhail about David Bowie and the two of them had put the face makeup on and sung the songs. Now Tim was gone and Mikhail missed him, but most of all Mikhail missed something he’d never have. Children. As a child Mikhail loved listening to stories, stories from all over Russia and everywhere else too, but then studying came along.
Saint Michael the Archangel has a secret, he loves stories too, he’s spent ages, literally Ages listening to stories from all over the world. So as they drunk their Stella Artois Michael told Mikhail some of the stories. First in Russian for the Russian stories, then he switched to Chinese for the Chinese stories, Indian for the Indian stories, and Japanese for the Japanese stories. Michael knew thousands of stories in told them all in all the native languages. The food and drink flowed, Paul Daniels really is a great magician, how he hid all of it in the space station ready to save a soul, a Russian spaceman’s soul we’ll never know, perhaps he’s just an angel.
How long would it take to tell tales from all over the world, as long as there is food and drink on the table there will always be tales, and this angel doesn’t follow Logic, only Love. In Earth time 50 years had passed, or was it just a dream? Michael and Mikhail hugged, this time Michael could not breathe and he turned red. Mikhail had been filled with Love, and food and drink thanks to maybe Paul Daniels, so he was a big Russian Bear once more.
You are Mikhail Mikhailovich a Spaceman who did not fall to earth, you are the Storyteller from Space, you are a “father” to billions of children, and to your wife you are the best husband in space and on earth who gave her seven children, angels love the number 7, Snow White really did exist you know, but that’s another story. Mikhail snored, he been dreaming hadn’t he.
Michael flew off into space, for decades he’d been talking to Mikhail, it was a coincidence he’d spotted Mikhail, he thanked God. As Michael looked at his watch, by which I mean the rotation of the stars in space, he realised he’d actually gone back in time by 2.9 nanoseconds. Einstein had been livid when he’d got to Heaven to discover that Time and Relativity was just one of God’s jokes.
Mrs Murphy’s soul was returned to her body, but her 50 years of prayers so that Mikhail could have a family had not been wasted, and as for her priest well that’s another story, Tears for a Butcher by Michael Casey to be exact, if God gives me the time to finish it.
The next night Mikhail said he had a story for all the Russian children, so he told them about the night the angel came to the space station. This was an instant hit all over Mother Russia, it was so funny too, though he had to explain who Paul Daniels was, they liked the story a lot, not a little bit. The Indians wanted to hear the story so could he tell them too, so he did but Mikhail told them in one of the major Indian languages, and as each child hear the story they hear it in the voice of their own grandfather. Japan was next and they were astounded too, not only did know their language but the accent was perfect, Mikhail was like a United Nations, his stories perfectly told demanded silence, followed by tears of joy.
Mikhail spent another month in space, each night he’d tell stories to the world’s children. He was out of this world literally and in all other ways. When it was time for him to return he was an international hero, for science and for story-telling. Putin himself said he drive him from the airport to the Kremlin for a reception. When Mikhail came down the steps from the plane his wife jumped into his arms, Putin was dressed as a chauffeur, the election was next month and he know good PR. The president as servant of the people. Putin did have to close the privacy screen in the Zil because the spaceman started on creating his happy family on the back seat of the Zil limousine.
So Mikhail got what he wanted a big happy Russian family, was the angel right in guessing 7, no he was wrong, Mikhail and his wife only had 3 pregnancies. Three being Mrs Murphy’s favourite number, three sets of triples. Mikhail set up his own Utube station to tell stories to the world’s children, he called it You’ll Like It, a lot. Then his friend Putin suggested he should run for president, so that’s how a spaceman called Mikhail became the President of Russia, because an angel came acalling, twinkle, twinkle.
Михаил Михайлович был космонавтом, космонавтом, как их называют русские , он был в космосе всегда, он уже установил мировой рекорд, он проверял себя, чтобы увидеть, сможет ли Человек добраться до Марса. Им с Тимом Пиком было очень весело на космической станции, но теперь Тима уже не было. Так что Михаил был одинок, на самом деле у Михаила была темная ночь души, летающей высоко в небе, вращающемся вокруг мира. Он был на грани, но нес медведя человека, которого он никому не сказал, если бы только его жена Катарина была с ним, чтобы сделать его сильным, но он плыл в космосе, и она вернулась в Санкт-Петербург.
Архангел Майкл только что оттолкнул сатану обратно в ад и запечатал ворота парой четок, теперь он возвращал душу миссис Мерфи обратно к ее телу, он спешил, прежде чем ее тело умерло без ее души внутри , В Святом Михаиле Архангел полетел в космос с душой миссис Мерфи, благополучно зажатой за поясом мечом, он почувствовал печаль Михаила. Очень жаль, что он летел так быстро, как только мог лететь к космической станции, душа была в опасности, космическая станция была в опасности, жизнь и душа человека были в опасности. Михаил был на грани мысли сделать что-то безумное, плохое и грустное. Майкл почувствовал это, и как ангел он должен вмешаться, он направился прямо к космической станции, он пошел прямо внутрь и схватил Михаила за руку.
Ангелу не нужно использовать двери, дух просто проходит сквозь стены даже в пространстве, любовь не знает границ, и ангел – это просто любовь. Святой Михаил Архангел обнял Михаила и чуть не сломал ему ребра. Михаил кричал от страха, Майкл просто смеялся ему в лицо и говорил, что он кричал, как маленькая девочка, собирался ли он мочиться в штаны как на бис. Михаил потер глаза, перед ним был ангел, говорящий по-русски, на самом деле он звучал как его старый дед, с тем же местным акцентом.
Я мог бы выключить ваши огни, но я ангел, так что давайте поговорим, у вас есть пиво, мои крылья устали, мне нужно пиво, спросил ангел. Михаил засмеялся, где у нас место для бочки пива на космической станции? Ангел потянулся за ним, и две чаши Стеллы Артуа появились в чашах, поэтому Михаил взял одну и выпил ее, после такого долгого пребывания в космосе это было, по меньшей мере, небесно. Таким образом, у Михаила и ангела было по 4 пинты, что достаточно, чтобы смочить их свисток, если они оба русские. Михаилу уже не было страшно , если это был сон, он собирался наслаждаться этим. Он хотел бы большой бутерброд русской говядины и хлеба с салатом и помидорами, тем более, когда Сент – Миха е л достигнуто за ним и появились бутерброды. Является ли Пол Дэниелс позади вас шутка d Михаила, во время своего пребывания на космической станции Тим английского космонавтом рассказал Михаилу о Paul Daniels. Ангел не ответил, но Бог позади меня, и передо мной и во всех направлениях у него есть моя спина, и ваша тоже, поэтому я спасаю вас.
Михаил, глядя на свои ноги, он чувствовал неудачу, он мог бы, но он этого не сделал, его спас ангел. Архангел Михаил подарил ему еще одну пинту Стеллы Артуа, Пол Дэниелс работал сверхурочно, можно сказать. Почему ты в космосе все равно спросил Михаила. Я возвращал душу в тело, миссис Мерфи рисковала своей душой, чтобы спасти жизнь своего священника, или, точнее, душу ее священника. Именно тогда сатана набросился, поэтому мне пришлось дать ему удар ногой, а затем мама попросила нас вернуть душу миссис Мерфи в ее тело, прежде чем ее тело истекло. Мама, кто твоя мама? Мария моя мама, она мама всех, она предпочитает называться мамой, это самый высокий титул из всех. Михаил Михайлович заплакал, поэтому Михаил вытер нос крыльями.
Я хотел бы быть отцом, но участие в космической программе положительно сказалось на этом, я герой Матери России, но моя собственная жена не может быть матерью, мы никогда не узнаем радости детей. Михаил снова закричал, ангел крепко обнял его, почти сломал ребра космонавта, и лицо Михаила стало ярко-красным из-за недостатка кислорода . Слеза упала из глаз ангела, она потекла по его лицу и брызнула на душу миссис Мерфи, этого было достаточно для миссис Мерфи, которая произносила Розарий за наносекунду. Ее тело уже умерло, но, по крайней мере, она могла молиться за космонавта.
У Михаила и Михаила было несколько свежих фруктов, бананов и винограда, которые запили еще стеллой Артуа. Михаил не обременял себя ангелом, все его надежды и мечты, будучи космонавтом, был последним из них. Тим рассказал Михаилу о Дэвиде Боуи, и они вдвоем накрасили лицо и спели песни. Теперь Тима не было, и Михаил скучал по нему, но больше всего Михаил скучал по тому, чего никогда не будет. Дети. В детстве Михаил любил слушать истории, рассказы со всей России и из других стран, но потом пришло время учиться.
У святого Михаила Архангела есть тайна, он тоже любит истории, он провел века, буквально века, слушая истории со всего мира. Так как они пили свою стеллу Артуа, Михаил рассказал Михаилу несколько историй. Сначала на русском языке для русских рассказов, затем он переключился на китайский для китайских рассказов, индийский для индийских рассказов и японский для японских рассказов. Майкл знал тысячи историй, рассказанных им на всех родных языках. Еда и напитки текли, Пол Дэниелс действительно великий волшебник, как он спрятал все это на космической станции, готовой спасти душу, душу русского космонавта, которую мы никогда не узнаем, возможно, он просто ангел.
Сколько времени потребуется, чтобы рассказывать сказки со всего мира, пока на столе есть еда и напитки, всегда будут сказки, и этот ангел не следует Логике, только Любовь. В земное время прошло 50 лет, или это был просто сон? Майкл и Михаил обнялись, на этот раз Майкл не мог дышать, и он покраснел. Михаил был наполнен любовью, едой и питьем, возможно, благодаря Полу Дэниелсу, поэтому он снова стал большим русским медведем.
Вы – Михаил Михайлович, космонавт, который не упал на землю, вы – Рассказчик из космоса, вы – « отец » для миллиардов детей, а для своей жены вы лучший муж в космосе и на земле, который дал ей семерых детей Вы знаете, ангелы любят число 7, Белоснежка действительно существовала, но это уже другая история. Михаил храпел, он мечтал, не так ли?
Майкл улетел в космос, на протяжении десятилетий он разговаривал с Михаилом, это было совпадение, что он заметил Михаила, он поблагодарил Бога. Когда Майкл посмотрел на часы, под которыми я имею в виду вращение звезд в космосе, он понял, что на самом деле вернулся во времени на 2,9 наносекунды. Эйнштейн был в ярости, когда попал на Небеса, чтобы обнаружить, что Время и Относительность были лишь одной из Божьих шуток.
Душа миссис Мерфи была возвращена к ее телу, но ее 50-летние молитвы, чтобы у Михаила могла быть семья, не пропали даром, а что касается ее священника, то это уже совсем другая история, если быть точным, слезы о мяснике Майкла Кейси, если Бог дает мне время закончить.
На следующую ночь Михаил сказал, что у него есть история для всех русских детей, поэтому он рассказал им о той ночи, когда ангел пришел на космическую станцию. Это был мгновенный удар по всей Матери России, это было так забавно, хотя он и должен был объяснить, кем был Пол Дэниелс, им история понравилась очень, а не немного. Индийцы хотели услышать эту историю, поэтому он мог рассказать им тоже, так он и сделал, но Михаил рассказал им на одном из основных индийских языков, и, как каждый ребенок слышит историю, они слышат ее голосом своего деда. Следующей была Япония, и они тоже были поражены: не только знали свой язык, но и акцент был идеальным, Михаил был похож на Организацию Объединенных Наций, его прекрасно рассказанные истории требовали молчания, сопровождаемого слезами радости.
Михаил провел еще месяц в космосе, каждую ночь он рассказывал истории детям всего мира. Он был вне этого мира буквально и во всех других отношениях. Когда ему пора было возвращаться, он был международным героем, для науки и для рассказывания историй. Сам Путин сказал, что отвезет его из аэропорта в Кремль на прием. Когда Михаил спустился по ступенькам из самолета, его жена прыгнула ему на руки, Путин был одет как шофер, выборы прошли в следующем месяце, и он знал хороший пиар. Президент как слуга народа. Путин действительно должен был закрыть экран конфиденциальности в Зиле б оскольку космонавт начал на создание своей счастливой семьи на заднем сиденье Зила лимузина.
Итак, Михаил получил то, что хотел, большую счастливую русскую семью, был ангел прав в угадывании 7, нет, он ошибался, у Михаила и его жены было только 3 беременности. Три любимых номера миссис Мерфи, три комплекта троек. Михаил создал свою собственную станцию Utube, чтобы рассказывать истории детям всего мира , он назвал ее «Вам понравится». Затем его друг Путин предложил ему баллотироваться в президенты, и именно так космонавт по имени Михаил стал президентом России, потому что ангел пришел в ужас , мерцание, мерцание .
THE WORLD IS A TINDER BOX right now
lets not destroy our Eden, Aliens may come to visit to hear Music, but they may come to waRN US. so GROW up all you dictators out there, you know who you are
Today
Sir Tom is knighted, the old soldier who raised so much for the NHS, there was
a family wedding too. So, delight on two fronts for the Queen, and all done at
Windsor, you can see it for yourself on Utube. So that’s a big noise in the
Press, and we all applaud Sir Tom. Applause is one sign of love and respect,
it’s done in the theatre, at pop concerts its cheers and screaming, we have
applause at funerals now as well. It’s better than black everything that I
remember as an altar boy serving Mass in the 60s and 70s. We celebrate the life
just gone by, my mother had 5 priests on the altar and a packed church. Mozart
was thrown in a pit with lime thrown on top.
It's a
couple of days later as I resume talking to you, yes the pain monster has been
visiting me, Arthritis is no fun take it form me. As I talk to you Anastacia is
singing Freak of Nature and I’m tapping my foot as she sings, outside the house
opposite is being painted white by Tom Sawyer and his wife, I think Trump must
be visiting, the new white house, over the road from me. If I reveal that the
house is owned by doctor who deals with mental health issues in the elderly
need I say any more?
But back
to noises, we make noises when we are happy, I’m feeling happier thanks to
Anastacia, I seem to remember another neighbour played keyboards for her on a
UK tour some years ago. So life and beat and noise go together, when we are
afraid we are quiet, or held hostage in silence. This lockdown has quietened
the world down, that’s why Freedom Loving Americans party so much, then spread the
Virus so much. But at least Trump has finally got the message about masks, as
Anastacia sings about getting the message. Is she writing this piece or is she joining
in as my chorus, see that’s how I write, it’s in my head but influences can
blow the words one way or another. So goodbye to Anastacia as she fades away.
Words fade
to nothingness when sadness comes, or pain takes your breath away, and I am
over qualified in both. The words fade to nothingness, no more can be said, but
there are new beginnings. There is always new Hope, even in our darkest days,
think of Casablanca and singing the French National Anthem, in my story Malta
Nights I have a Esther a Jew sing defiantly. She looks at the statue of the
Virgin Mary, and says Only us two Jews in a room full of Gentiles celebrating,
please save them, I am old, I do not matter. And she can hear in hermind Mary’s reply, I used to sing for my
grannie, can you sing for me. So Esther the defiant Jew faces down a man with a
gun, and sings the AveMaria, with all
the strong Maltese joining in. A wall of sound as a defence. You’ll have to
find the story online to see what happens.
Music and
song really is our greatest Noise, I was going to write this piece one way but
another took over. I have to stop right now as my left shoulder, always my left
shoulder hurts so much, but count the beats and I’ll returned plastered in
Movelat gel. Buy shares in Movelat, I’m still tingling in pain, but the edges
has gone off it. My small daughter has just return home, while she leaves her
treasure in the bathroom, I’ve returned after a ham and chorizo sandwich on
seeded bread. The noise of my Tinnitus is always with me, maybe all the pain problems
are short circuiting my brain to create noise which does not actually exist. My
Tinnitus specialist will no doubt remind me again when I go see him, in a few
months time.
We jump
for joy and sing and cheer, and nobody really still says Hip Hip Hooray, we don’t
wear bowler hats in UK either. Turbans and skull caps are more frequent. So,
what more can I say about noise, yes to Sing really is to Doubly Pray, ask Cecelia
when you get back to your bed. Joy elicits noise, we slap a baby to clear the
airways at birth, so we have tears of joy and tears of happiness. A K drama can
do that for me nowadays, you should try them.
I could
continue but I’ll excuse myself as hunger and still a bit of pain now rising to
my head has taken me off the boil. So I’ll put my whistling kettle on, what
else, and have a coffee and maybe a sliced salmon and tomato sandwich to finish
filling my belly. You can write a piece for yourself while I have my sandwich,
it’s probably better than this, then you can be a writer too.
today I find Australia is reading me here
Russia and Ukraine reading on my other Bloggers
over on Wordpress Nigeria and Isreal yesterday
with Argentina and Korea today
so all you Media folks out there when are you going to join in?
I'll put it in writing again
50% of what I earn in Future from Writing goes straight to Pain Charities
With my aim being 90% of what I earn in Future to Pain Charities
once I earn a little for my kid's future
Pain Charities are:- Medecin sans Frontieres
Hospices
Mental Health
Arthritis
that's where I'd begin
But really none of you believe this
So continue reading for FREE as I make nothing,
till
Murdoch or Bezo or Anybody discovers me
And yes if push comes to shove I'd donate 100% of my earnings
straight away. And then rely on Providence for anything else for myself
But still nobody believes me
Now go read the final 3 chapters of
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
which is all about:- In Search of an Indian Princess
till then I'm just a voice calling out in the Wilderness
