Crisis, What Crisis?
The average age of a Charioteer is most likely in the Chris Woakes bowling speed range. Well played, those said charioteers for being long lived. Your blushing, “youngish”, modest, unassuming Arts Editor hits the big Hawaii Five-O this autumn.
I don’t expect any round of applause for making fifty. I won’t raise my bat, 5-0 is not the middle of life any more. Fifty is the new twenty. However, as I near the new twenty a crisis has happenstanced.
There is a new woman in my life. She understands me more than my wife. This woman…
She is Black.
She is slim
She is pretty.
She has shark-toothed fret markings.
Here she is.
Yes, Dear Reader, JW has joined the musicians club. Me and my guitar are making beautiful music….while the whole world gently weeps. Not content with listening to loud Metal for Muthas music I am producing my own. Admittedly, I am at the novice stage of axe Shredding (A Heavy Metal term to denote fast guitar playing, in case you were wondering) but hey, from its awful beginnings just look how good my blogging became. Good at one, good at the other, don’t you Fink?
House prices have shrunk South Of Heaven in my street as the neighbours have Slayered off this mortal coil. It must be something to do with my G5 power chord played on the amp in overdrive mode at full blast. Now, that’s what I call a sentence.
Aye wheel, as mid life crises’ go the six stringer is better than having an affair or buying a motorbike.
Play it, you know what.