If you’re looking for answers,

Me,

I like my steak blue, under the heat for no time at all,

my eggs runny,

my haggis with mayonnaise dolloped on the side,

my bacon with a rind,

my Shakespeare riveting,

my football with City on top,

but never forgetting the days in which we were damned awful,

sometimes my poetry…whimsical,

my rock heavy, my jazz boundless and my pop with a smile

and the kiss in a women’s eyes,

I used to like my Whisky at least older than me,

my tea Russian in name and taste,

my history, veering away from the Civil War,

my public transport loved, my day to have

a brilliant shining, even reflective moment,

even if fleeting,

my friends incorruptible but magnificently flawed,

my comedy American,

my films British, but with a healthy side of Scandinavian

thrown in,

my snooker patient,

my pool frantic and against the clock,

the four-three-three system suits me just fine,

detective novels, Tom Holt and Doctor Who,

doesn’t matter the actor, it is the character

I love,

baggy band T-shirts, I used to love tight jeans, sadly

those days are passed,

my hair long, dyed whenever possible,

Clutching over Script, The Lamb over being Invisible,

Hippy over straight laced and beige,

a roast potato, green Guernsey cabbage,

New York, Philadelphia and Pittsburgh,

you can keep rural France

when you offer me Paris,

you can keep Kent,

if you offer me the East End.

 

If you’re looking for answers,

then don’t look at me,

I can tell you nothing at all.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017.