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It's all true man, all true. For I was there. Standing right there. Just over here. They served spuds, like scuds. There were women with thin lips, dreaming of chips. Men in wire glasses.

His is a place of chaos, a carnival, a funfair, escheresque. Where time twists and edges blur and ceiling becomes floor.

I found some tea You'd made for me I didn't drink it So sorry. I found it by my bed Must have been out of my head To not drink tea That you'd made for me. So if I've never thanked you

Jamie stared out the window. Even though she had been at this house since she was a baby, She felt a stranger to this neighbourhood. The tree shaking the last of its leaves from the high branches, the dog tied to the leash in the backyard, nothing seemed to be like she remembered. Watching the rain pouring down outside made tears swell in her brown eyes. Her knotted brown hair sticking to her wet face. A sudden beep echoed around her. Slowly, she made her way to the bathroom. She didn't want to see it but she had to know.

And then I remembered I'd forgotten the pegs. All the way back at Pandani Saddle, some two hours scrub-bash away. It started to rain just as I made the decision to go back to get them, leaving my backpack by the track. The pegs were there at Pandani Saddle, under the tree, exactly where I'd left them. Back up on the ridge a strong south-westerly wind was starting to blow, it was pouring, and I had pegs but no backpack. Back down the ridge. Where's the bloody backpack? I would survive a night out, but it wouldn't be fun shivering in a space blanket. Still no backpack. I searched frantically for what felt like hours. The rain continued as it became darker. Then I saw it, almost at the foot of Mt Wylly. I cried. Relief mostly, I think. But I didn't linger in the rain. It was on with the pack and up Mt Wylly, and on to camp at Wylly Plateau. I was soaked to the bone and filthy. Even my jocks were soaked. I stripped and lay there naked in the tent, then washed my poor battered and bruised body with a dish cloth¦

This happened when I was very young.I was about ten and very naughty.I would run about quite a lot.In the process I would wear out my shoes very often.My clothes would tear here and there.Despite the fact that buying new clothes and shoes was not a monetary problem for my parents they insisted that I learn to value the things I owned.Wel,my shoes suffered the most because I would use them very clumsily.When climbing a staircase I would jump two to three steps together all the while kicking hard at the walls.Though I had special shoes for playing soccer I would go to play in my school leather boots.These boots were not meant to stand such stress and strain and they did not.I would also use my boots to play what was known as 'stone cricket'.This involved using the boots as bat and stones from somewhere as ball.Naturally my shoes would last must much less than they were supposed to.I was least bothered about this because in my thinking shoes WERE supposed to be used thus.

My friends loved to hear you talk of Copenhagen

if I had a gun, and three bullets who would be my victims? image wiki commons, released into PD by jpogi

Well, for a brief moment, I'm riding high here in Thailand. I have enough money to live very comfortably for two months. Here are some of my impressions of the bigger picture. Humans are doing massive damage to the world eco-system. For centuries now, we've been expanding the habitat of our species virtually without regard for the lives of Earth's other plants and animals. Furthermore, our technological prowess gives us access to immense resources, and we use these resources with great flippancy and waste.