july 17th: What happened to your machine, Tim?

as of writing this blog post, i have been absent from regular duty, still taking photos most days but struggling to find the time to update the blog regularly.


when i do find the time i shall go back and fill in the glaringly obvious gaps that i have left and these comments shall be rendered somewhat redundant.


sat at work without my camera, i wondered what else i could do to enrich this creative little blog of ours, i started writing a poem that got no further than two rather pathetic lines before being distracted by a post on a blog i subscribe to, i then scrolled down the blog, and was suddenly struck with inspiration


so now i present a poem, based upon the title of a blog posting, yet bearing no other relation to it at all



What happened to your machine, Tim?




Almost every spare moment of every day,
you were planning and scheming,
tasking and toiling,
(and occasionally swearing), 
shrouded in secrecy,
only the whirrs and hums,
banging and clattering,
(and occasionally swearing),
gave you away,
for months you were pre-occupied,
with this hidden creation,
and then nothing.




no unveiling,
no talk of it at all,
as if the hours of hardwork,
had dissolved and left you,
and left us all,
with nothing.


and we've all been wondering,
What happened to your machine, Tim?

written by Glen Byford, July 17th