Welcome from Simon ! 👋

Well, last day at Apple, handing back all my equipment etc. It’s always kind of strange leaving a company behind that you’ve built up a repository of knowledge about, even with relatively short contracts. 12 months is plenty of time to get kind of used to a place. Any lasting contribution that I can feel ‘That is going to get used an make a difference?’ I guess the biggest one has to be the Account Planning project. ...

Well went to see this at the Islington Vue. And to be honest it was somewhat disappointing. Not sure why - just seemed really slow-going. Long tracts of teenage swooneyness interjected with brief moments of plot / adventure. It’s also quite some way from capturing the foreboding of the book. Ah well. I’d say it was ‘cause I’m a bloke. But as Pat & Becca felt similarly, maybe not. Chloe enjoyed it though - so maybe aimed more at the 9-12yr old market. And no idea why it’s a 12a. Well, it’s an early-evening out. ...

Went to see wicked at the weekend with Chloe. She really loved it. Unfortunately, put me in a room with the lights turned down and a bit stuffy, and roll out the ballads, and the old eyelids start going. Oops. Well, I don’t think I fell asleep - but the first half was a lot of setting up of the plot. Second half was great - some memorable numbers, and quite a clever tie-in of the original Oz story - think Rosencrantz & Guilderstern with a more recent reference and lots of green. Possibly one of those that would be better on a second viewing with more than four hours sleep the previous night. ...

You look at me, dazed -- through Harry Potter eyes -- Wisdom of Gandalf; Hobbit thighs. Whilst penning *Watership Down* Mr. Adams wrote of you and I "I am your fiver, you my Hazel" In bunny slippers and a dressing gown. You give m a dressing down. Your eyes childlike reflecting mine. Simon Huggins, 11th October 2006

So you froth I drink and you moan I blow your top Off you go again I make you stop And drink chocolate The Bittersweet comfort Like you, transitory Hot with your lot I like your licking lips I offer my cup Froth caked from last night's top You drain the dregs, and look up There's nothing left There never was The late-baked cake We find -- well done A little brittle to the touch Simon Huggins, 10th October 2006

So you froth I drink and you bemoan I blow your top Off you go again. I make you stop And drink chocolate; The Bittersweet comfort -- Like you, transitory -- Hot with your lot. I like your licking lips; I offer my cup; Froth caked from last night's top. You drain the dregs, and look up. There's nothing left. There never was. The late-backed cake He finds -- well done -- A little brittle to the touch. Simon Huggins, 10th October 2006

Ironic As food replaces me; I vanish It unrecognises me --- I sold me To the mesh and hole Of the Tesco Trolley. Soldier of fortune cookies --- How over your hope Could my sould be anything But others' moulded possibilities? - Simon Huggins, 10th October 2006

Simple circle met a sphere whilst studying anthropology. "Look at me," said circle excitedly. "I'm everywhere. Up, Down, Every direction. Infinitesimal to definite size. I'm not discrete, but every possibility," excitedly. Sphere bounced inside circle. "No. That's me. Just me. Once removed form your universe of possibilities." subconsciously. Sphere met circle Bounced and hulaed Felt sort of strange Could not see inside reality Just felt familiarly queasy Uneasy, as if geometry was, after thought unreality. Point just itched circle who twitched sphere who gave a little bounce. Simon Huggins, 14th September 2006

She made me *Write! Damn You! Write!* As if poetry pages laced through my veins; Flutters of slashes. Her memory fades. I slumber along in a piece defying your face. There are traces of you in me; I taste this razor blade. She reincarnated Into me, back, again, away; Our poetry is lazy when life and death heat Blood and Humours boil. See you. A round, my friend. Simon Huggins, 27th February 2006

I have arrived, come see I have arrived My mobile clips my conversation shut I stroll, at speed, my perm and I arrive These feet salute a stop. I have arrived. What must I do to make me centre stage? Bark orders for my order straight away. A salad? No, a *Big Mac Meal* for me. I lift my shirt to share my skin around -- I am toned, I am toned, this perm belies my age. Flap the shirt unconsciously, honestly I am not old. I am toned. I Take my tray from centre stage and fold. - Simon Huggins, 8th February 2006