Driftwood

Can I be the only one who identifies as such?

Dry parchment rolled up into a bottle

The message not so secret any more.

We know each other but never acknowledge less we give the wasteful game away.

Drifting to the edges and back again.

Walk, amble, stroll, saunter?

It is much more intentional

You are driven to do it.

What you hope to find on every expedition is anybody's guess, even your own.

An extension of exploring as a child.

It began as a withdrawing from the external world of other people into an internal world going where and when you wanted without encumberance.

Going walkabout.

London is fantastic for it.

Black Oyster drops you and you get the feels and the sensations.

Holborn to Smithfield.

Once Victoria all the way across to Kings Cross.
Once Paddington to Charing Cross.

You rest your polluted lungs for a night ready to go again in the morning.

My particular box of delights are charity shops, book stores and libraries.

Wherever I find a book that's my home.

Not that I am a great reader, it is just the sensation of finding the right book at the right time.

The one road I don't like, the one that jars is Buckingham Palace Road perhaps because you know where it goes.

We all like a coffee but it is a mistake to enter one of the anodyne chains to get your card stamped because when you do, the magic has ended and your energy and excitement drop the moment you give your name or hand over your money.

Some people are going places, I certainly am not.

The progress delusion continues apace as I pass another piece of flotsam.