I've no great memories of the summer
It was just one of those blank periods
When looking back, I already wonder
What happened then? Just what was it I did?
I shall consult diary, see what it said
All I can find that sticks in the mind is
My few days in Ireland, and then it's dead
Apart from one day's clear-cut memories
Of taking Josie to see Manchester's
Asian festival in the sunshine. There
Is not much else that sticks out. Too much mud
And rain, and beer, has left a muddled mess
Of summer, or what I can remember
Too much work, maybe? Too much being good?
Wed 9 Sept
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