Some years ago I had a toolshed. Every type of hand and domestic power tool you could need. I was skilled with tools and smart from the small jobs to the big ones, stripping a car down to repairing a computer to fixing the roof to stitching a daughter's torn jeans. I'm that kind of guy. The garden had a shed too, with every garden implement and machinery needed for a fairly large and varied garden.

Now I have none of the above. Some say that I gave it away, some that I lost it. Whatever, the perceived motive for its loss remains subjective. The reality is that I no longer have those things.

Does that make me a lesser person? No, though some consider it does. Anyway, this is not the diary itself, 'cos the diary has pictures. Click start.





OK. So someone has to keep it.

So. Where is it? The Blue Line, a few moments away from Airport.

Wonderland behind to the left (or is it the right?) and Bowdoin to the right (or is it the left?) in the center of the city.

But who is she? Has she been drinking? (note the inflamed red honk)

Answers to: michaelfroglogasssiausachiwarokowewski and you'd better get it right...




After Bowdoin and Wonderland in the land of Rev(i)er(i)e New York seems like New York.

Still the question remains. Who is she? Why does she keep a bar stool in her boudoir?




It's summer. And it's 1996. It's Central Park - where the rock of all ages sits.

Tired and bewildered (her or him?), a pretty goyl smoiles for the camera.

But wait. Who is she?

(note the tree ants on the fourth branch - rare to see in New York at this time of the year)


Unable to cope, your poor editor returns to the city of Boston and disembarks at the now demolished bus station only to find:

Who is she?? Wearing as she is a T-shirt from the Winchester City Center shopping center in Hampshire, England. (Note the strategic positioning of the handheld backpack carefully concealing the steak bomb sub stains on her upper right inner thigh.) Note also the Puerto Rican carpet layer in the background shadows.


Cape Cod. Is it her again? What can she be thinking of? Note the direction of the howling wind.


Even just a few miles from Fort Lauderdale there is STILL no escape from the torturous she.

In a vain attempt at escape the editor returns in time to London and the Earls Court Music Show 1994, where his daughter Nico is at the JJ Hucke guitar stand with her very own JJ Hucke guitar.

JJ (Jens) Hucke himself, master of the handmade personalised electric guitar - the instrument of the masters.




And it's back to Central Park, where all your editor can do is sit and wait to get his hands on the big disguised bottle of booze waiting nearby. (As is obvious from the only partially disguised facial scowl).

(The hat also conceals something. Answer to:


and you'd better get it right.



After consuming the mystery hidden artifact, your editor learns how to emerge from a New York basement on one leg whilst at the same time balancing a vacuum cleaner on the sole of his other foot.

And then it's a typical day down by the waterfront in Limerick city. (Note in the background how they deal with illegal parking by the city waterfront whilst nobody takes the slightest notice.)
Hover on pic to ZOOM

Almost Final notes about your editor




Now single. 5'7". Former athlete, rugby + cricket player - came 3rd in all England Under 21 (or was it Umder-19) athletics 100 yard sprint final in Leeds (or was it Sheffield?) in 1966 after tripping at the starting block. Member of winning 4x100 and 4x400 relay team events at same finals.

Lives alone with no real answer as to why. Has few friends with many answers as to why but no longer blames self.

Knows a thing or two about life, most importantly that it ends. Has no arrogant preconceptions of what comes after but has seen a few things that left a permanent impression.

Hates water cress but eats it avidly. (Something to do with blundering into a water cress farmer's field when living on the road in his own car at the age of 16 at midnight and waking up to an irate water cress farmer banging on the steamed-up windows of the Rover 90 at 5am on a frosty winter morning and it was so warm and snug in the car.....)

Left home at 15 (1965) and lived alone in a caravan, playing as drummer with a rock band called The Outlaws.

Cities of residence of over one year: Winchester, Canterbury, Newcastle, London, Boston, Galway, Southampton, Syracuse, Portsmouth, Manchester, Limerick
Countries visited: Europe, Asia, USA, Canada, S. America, Middle East, Far East, China, Russia, Japan, Alaska, Greenland, Antarctica, Isle of Man, Gibraltar, Africa, Australia, Mongolia, Tibet and the Isle of Wight

Favorite pastime: Being alive
Likes: Food counters in expensive shops, intelligent conversations with elephants; cycling, fast cars & faster women
Dislikes: Garish Harleys, pithy oranges, unaffectionate women, rich food and poor eaters, boring conversations in cars with flat tyres, big cities with big reputations, bigots, maggots with bifocals, plastic people, ego trippers, fleas, intelligent cats, boring spiders, one-legged centipedes, gratuitious violence against living creatures of any nature
Jail experience: 11 years
Other experience: 59 years
Former lives: Yes

Future lives: ?

In Appalachian mode ........And at a Kurdistan monastery

And in case you think that this was all a load of old waffle, check out the underlying (there always has to be one) reason