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Greetings, bonjour, what’s happening? Basking in the sun, melting in the shade; it’s all got a bit blazing, mate. I’m at home today, in sunny Maidstone. Don’t know what it is about the current-bun coming out. It can seemingly bring out both the best and worst in people. Seen a few sun-soaked-punch-ups in my time, heard a fair few domestics and in my younger years; it always seemed a prime-time to get robbed. Veering on the mostly good, though, I guess it makes people slow down and enjoy the finer things. I like a good afternoon cup of tea when it’s hot – seems counter-intuitive – but it’s strangely satisfying. Polished a lovely pint of San-Miguel last night at Victoria station, after a long day of workshops -which is fitting, considering the poem that follows this. It’s taken from a nice little moment back in the early 00’s – when I worked at Gatwick Airport. With poems, or the sort-of poems I try and write, for me , it’s just about capturing small moments. I liken it to a postcard. On one side, you’ve got the picture of the beach – capturing the moment – which I treat as the poem – then on the other side you’ve got all the details of your lovely beach holiday. On Monday we ate Ice cream – On Tuesday I fell over ­etc which for me is the story bit. There you go, Paul’s my very own definition of the difference between a poem and story. Who cares? Answers on a postcard. See what I done there? The piece I wanted to put up this week, was both, postcard-picture and postcard detail. An amusing memory from secondary school that I recent remembered, about classroom chairs. Started putting it together this week, looked at it today – and it’s a confused mess of the two postcard sides, not really sure what it is. In other words, it’s crap. So it’s back to the drawing board with that. So I had a butchers in the archives and pulled out this one. Pretty sure I’ve not put it up before. Hope you enjoy it. In case you were wondering – my birthday shenanigans last week were excellent. A few lagers were consumed, along with some banging curry and some tasty Drum and bass. Needless to say, I felt disgusting when I awoke the next day – the first day of the last day of my thirties. Wouldn’t have it any other way, mate. The-how-to-blogs-and-videos always say you’ve put in a call-to-action-, if you want more traction. So here it goes – if you like what I’m doing, give it a subscribe and you can get me direct into your inboxes every week – even though that strangely sounds very wrong. Just me? Alright. I’m looking into getting Lager Time hosted on other podcast platforms. I don’t know what difference that will make, to anyone but you know. I’m also toying with doing some live streams. I have a bunch of these poems and some music as well. Not really gigging much these days, I miss it so doing that might help me sharpen up a new repertoire, about time as well. Have a lovely weekend Peas and taters Paul PREMIUM SPEED GHOST TRAIN we were in the service lifts on the way down to Gatwick’s underbelly picking up a delivery, stretching time as long we could Tom told me he’d gone shopping with his missus, up to Oxford Street took the Gatwick express, flashed that staff-pass and got that sexy 50 % discount, like I knew that was a thing I never that was a thing The Gatwick Express?! Gatwick to London Victoria direct Non-stop every 15 minutes he went on the Gatwick express, mate in 21 years I’d never once stepped foot on it maybe as a kid, I’d wondered what it was like on occasion as an adult, watched it bolt through Horley, arms-length from the airport, fast up to London whilst I waited for the stopper train, imagining the premium passengers were all making wanker signs at us mugs, looking all forlorn on the platform awaiting the slow service the price for speed made it out of reach and out of reach became out of mind and despite hearing and seeing this thing, several times a day, on a daily basis, for only my whole life, I barely noticed it was there, like a premium-speed ghost train that was no longer scary, just another extra making up the numbers in the background I gave Tom a nod like it was nothing meanwhile in the back of my mind I was a plus-one at a dull wedding who’s just realised it’s a free-bar I designated my next day off as a trip to Oxford Street I didn’t even need anything come that Monday, I flashed that staff pass at the ticket office and watched that price drop on the till screen, like a bad day at the stock exchange bopped down to platforms 1 and 2 didn’t even wait 15 minutes hopped onto my waiting carriage selected a spacious window seat and enjoyed the vibration on the glass, as it bolted through at speed, all the usual haunts like skipping the que for the roller coaster, trying not to boast but couldn’t help grinning, I wanted to tell someone, I’m on the Gatwick Express, mate making the most of the extra leg room tourists wondering what on earth I was smiling about in no time Surrey became Croydon and Croydon became London Victoria got off thinking that was sick I can’t wait to go home Next day back in the basement, Pretending that the service lifts weren’t working again Tom goes, what did you on your day off then? I broke the mould mate You what? He says Nothing. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cree.substack.com