She would nod off during anything however important. The coronation of the king, a garden party or any diplomatic event.
the opening of parliament, a war commemoration a royal visit to disaster victims, touching and poignant a Christmas mass or national celebration,
a cup final at Wembley, a royal palladium performance, a documentary on TV, a royal tour on some far off continent.
She’d just nod off and became famous for it. To wake her up, diplomats and dignitaries would cough or nudge her with an elbow quick.
Her citizens would take bets on how long she would last before dozing off. Even at home in her castle surrounded by her family and pets, everyone got tired of her snoozing off all the time like a tiresome toff while watching films on her kingdom sofa in her land of nod.
John Di Girolamo was born during the swinging middle ages as the Battle of Hastings raged outside on a cold, miserable Saturday evening just outside 'The Juggler's Arms' in Oxford, Torquay and Exeter at the same time. Born to a family, he spent most of his early years learning how to open umbrellas for a rainy day, and the runnings of horses and sword swallowers and the costs they incurred. Having graduated in 'Circus Management', he took to spinning plates for a living and persuaded his father to buy a restaurant to fund what he believed would be a lucrative career move. However, in the the days leading to The Age of Post Punk', he quit and would embark upon what was to go down in history doodles as a notebook.
Few knew it then but he had already started copying poetry, and often written by other people. As the minutes passed by, and Sardinia loomed, the idea of collages and drawings suddenly hit him as a way of filling up what had become a kind of book with pages and all. One day while storming off in a huff because his mum told him to, he struck upon the idea of putting it all together over a long-playing record (later a CD) and during a commercial break in the digital age, decided a blog would end Cromwell's ill-fated republic.
Sent off by recorded post, it would be by chance that his poems would get to their ultimate destination as, meanwhile, his pigeon who had queued so loyally for so long, sadly died the day before it was sacked.
View more posts