crevée

I arranged to transfer my phone and broadband to you at the end of December last year, as Vodafone were ceasing their service. The phone line went across in January as expected. Due to provisioning failure with Sky, my broadband was transferred against my wishes to PlusNet and then back to Sky in March.

I would now like to move my contract elsewhere when my 12 months is up in January.

Despite Sky failure to transfer in timely manner, I am being held to ransom until 8th March unless I pay a cancellation fee, the amount of which Sky staff aren’t very forthcoming about. This is despite the recent http://www.thisismoney.co.uk/money/bills/article-2216136/Sky-hikes-line-rental-18—charges-SECOND-time-year.html article where “The increase is so big that Sky has confirmed, in line with telecom regulator Ofcom’s guidelines, that customers will be able to cancel their line rental and broadband arrangements even if they are still within the minimum term of their contract.”

I’d like to know whether Sky consider themselves above Ofcom or whether they will acknowledge their error, act honourably and let me take my business elsewhere at no cost to myself?

Neoprened and flippered, just a matter of 3 feet apart, the man and seal circled each other, observing. Waves. Both dived. Kindred spirits.

“You’re amazing xxx”, she wrote. Hold that thought for a lifetime. Flux and mutability. Drawing lines in the sand. Goodbye is forever & ever

4% through Our Father Who Art Out There…Somewhere by Taft, AJ on Kindle for Android! http://www.amazon.co.uk/kindleforandroid/

The sun shines high above
The sounds of laughter
The birds swoop down upon
The crosses of old grey churches
We say that we’re in love
While secretly wishing for rain
Sipping coke and playing games

September’s here again
September’s here again

Sitting mock lotus, semi-meditating. My wrists flop over my knees and my fingers hang down like stalactites, water droplets forming on the tips. I’m fascinated by the random order in which they drip, drip, drip. Over time, I may spot the pattern. Chaos theory reigns.

Looking by chance in at the open window
I saw my own self seated in his chair
With gaze abstracted, furrowed forehead,
Unkempt hair.

I thought that I had suddenly come to die,
That to a cold corpse this was my farewell,
Until the pen moved slowly upon paper
And tears fell.

He had written a name, yours, in printed letters:
One word on which bemusedly to pore
No protest, no desire, your naked name,
Nothing more.

Would it be tomorrow, would it be next year?
But the vision was not false, this much I knew;
And I turned angrily from the open window
Agahst at you.

Why never a warning, either by speech or look,
That the love you cruelly gave me could not last?
Already it was too late: the bait swallowed,
The hook fast

If I were able, I would stare at your pretty face and
I would reach out and gently stroke your beautiful hair.
If I were able, I would slowly pull you closer
And gently kiss your sweet lips.
If I were able I would hold you in a long embrace,
More passionate as the minutes pass.
I ache for you and always will.