It Is… Pt. 47
Written by Prim on 23/12/2023
‘On the red
road to nowhere’
… Half asleep… in frog pyjamas springs to mind, and if that isn’t a convenient as any sidetrack to kick off with then Bozo Bill doesn’t come from Peckham Hill. Tom Robbin’s classic on the other hand is available quick sharp on noodle search engine spelt G-o-o-g-l-e offering not only the actual book by way of first dibs first shown, but other assorted nutty options you might like to get lost in and forget why you looked it up in the first place, vis a vis; is half asleep only in the second person… synonyms for half asleep… how many pairs or pyjamas should a woman have, and… is it ok to wear the same pyjamas twice. I don’t know about you but I’m currently wearing my long johns in the second person, what do you think of them so far! Now where were we… Half asleep on a mind drifter, road brain locked in the zone just outside Barcelona. The sun hung low, massive and burning his eyes. He flipped the visor down in his 1970’s Bedford Midi to no avail; the orange ball continued to splatter his vision like a giant fluorescent duck yolk looming to smother him in a warm embrace of comforting goo. The shortest day had just flipped by, so ol’ ducky was back on the rise again, sunny side up, he had that to look forward to, the future was bright, but he had no shades, never wore them, not even in his hazy days of Africa. Now on the ring road with a humping metropolis on the horizon, he saw nothing bar the glare of a sun hung low smearing grit, oil and insect debris. Its orange glow fermenting on his windscreen shifting the ducks deposit around like a lava lamp on acid. In the background a traffic hum intermingled with radio tones, esta scorchio hoy y manana y durante toda la semana as he manoeuvred by senses built on probability. Through the ever-illuminating psycadelic Santa Fish windscreen he peered. Cars either side, three wide and steady and the sun hung low. Stick your head out of the window, the yolk grins, he does and greets a commuter, Hola, que tal? His British right-hand drive inches from a business man’s continental left was greeted with, todo loco. Argh, indeed it was, a fine balance of crazy reality indeed. There she blows, through the gooey mirage perched in all its glory atop miles of traffic, heavily outlined in a silhouetted low hung sun swiftly deflating like a giant basketball in the distance, its past and presence eking within. He considered there on that road past the Costa Bianca sands enroute to the suburban throb of Elche that the sun will still hang low in winters short days yet rise and rise like a Spanish Rudolph disappearing into the night sky for yet another year and nobody would ever speak about it except his own thoughts to keep to himself amused on that shortest day on the road where the sun hung low.
… loose, so loose we’ll forget about it and head straight to the World News…
Getting a handle on history to preserve life in all its senses as we know it is one thing, but to smell history is another. Yep, an EU funded upstart Odeuropa have captured ye olde smell of Europe from eons afore. Preserving past and present scents from plague fighting herbs in the 16th Century to the smell of a new car is exciting stuff unless you’re my mate Blood who has no sense of smell. Heathen. ‘Most European language describes smell relations to objects, such as comparing them to chocolate or coffee.’ Says William Tullet researcher with Odeuropa and author of Smell & the Past: Noses, Archives, Narratives. The online encyclopaedia dubbed the smell-explorer has over 2.5m references dating from 1600’s -1920’s. I’d like to smell a buxom French milk maid from 1592 struggling with le Monde cryptic crossword in her tea break and the sweet smell of joyous success when she finally cracks it … what would you like to smell, answers on a postcard please.
If you’d like to know what dodgy smells like, sniff Putin. Rotten to the core. Blood money to feed his army is hauled by his henchmen from the mercenary Wagner group by lifting African gold. Detailed in the Blood Gold Report, monitoring and investigating links between west mining company, Authoritarian African Courts and Russian Mercenaries, the Wagner group are generating E92m a month from Central African Republic, Mali and Sudan’s gold trade. Not only fuelling its war but also keeping a foothold in the dark continent. What does gold smell like.
One of the worst smells I think is tripe. Should covers baddies in tripe. Putin is tripe. Tastes ok though, if you like tripe.
Getlink are allowing other train operators to use the Channel Tunnel. For nearly 30 years, Eurostar has had carte blanche on London to Paris, Lille, Brussels, Rotterdam and Amsterdam… I could be anywhere… (name that tune) Now new operators are welcome to join the party, with possible added destinations to Cologne (bet that smells nice) and Geneva. Spanish start-up Evolyn are already on board from London to Paris and Virgin Trains also look set to join up any time soon. I like trains, I think all trains should have a casino on board. The smell of a heart wrenching loss and how am I going to explain this one or the smell of gold gold gold.
Meanwhile, grrr, in the skies Canadian water bomber firefighting planes are in for a comeback. The amphibious Red and Yellow Super Scoopers capable of holding 6000ltrs started in 1969 but stopped production in 2015. With last years record breaking wildfires across Tunisia, Italy, Greece and Algeria demand has soared with Indonesia expected to receive 6 CL 515’s and a CL 415 EF anytime soon, brrrp brrrp nerd alert, nerd alert, plus 16 for France and 12 on order for the EU Commission to be stationed across EU countries due to be delivered by 2027. On that fun-filled delivery of inconsequential news about planes I’ll say ta ta and pip pip.
Keep it turning keep it wheel, keep it radioPrimco.com
Till next weak folks – spelling correct.
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