. PATISSERIE ‘TRAITEUR SALON |Thanks go to — My Family, Ken, Dave, Den, Joe, Gill & Nick — PaulNow don’t get me wrong here, my instincts have always steered @ me clear of religion and well it should when it’s been organised by the greed merchants who abide in wealth and power and let their believers starve, dictating dubious morals from the back of bullet proof vans. But belief in (a) God, well I check for it in- stantly and sometimes in a tight corner often find myself looking upwards. So when Boy Wonder speaks of how the working people have becor and their telly, but st WHEN The Cappuccino Kid handed these notes over to us last November, in Le Café Bleu, he asked that the time of their delivery Dee eee ee ae een ee ne eee eet Pea meanest ae Typically cryptic, he is currently in Hamburg, safe in a hotel room, searching for free jazz on his radio and telling his fellow Pee eee re Ye a We look forward to his return. f days such as these, it’s here in Le Café Bleu where, amidst the smoke, steam and colours present, I'm to be found pass- ing the hours of mortal time, sometimes exchanging the views, sometimes with my think cap in full view so that those around respect my wish for solitude and refrain from the chit-chat. Until I signal for some that is. Now, what with things as they are, and most depressing, my thoughts often turn to the ever encroaching squareness which only the few seem prepared to fight. I have often bemoaned this sad fact but noting lack of support will have to continue on this mission, for not only am I keen to wake at my anointed hour each day but fully desire something worth inspiring me, or what point can there be in rolling back the sheets in the first place? Indeed, and so in Le Café Bleu, when I’m not contemplating the sweetness of Miles’s sad lonely trumpet, I'm checking for the talk around me, talk I might add that speaks with far more truth than any so called ‘moralist’ could put about, golden powered and uplifting in its forcefulness, and it is often to catch The Boy Wonder here, immaculate as ever in his threads, shaking his head sadly as he stirs the cappuccino froth, muttering out aloud, ‘this land! Nothing but a nuclear playground for the nuclear family, the war mongerer’s playful fancy and we so strong in numbers, fast asleep to their wicked manners. How could we let them unleash so much evil?’ How indeed and Boy Wonder will con- tinue thus, ‘itis this sadness, the knowledge that our hearts havea right to so much better that may soon make me vacate my premises. For I say unto thee that verily thou hast forsaken your brothers and sisters to allow the sordids their space and, much like the donkey's parable, been deceived by the golden carats!" with big money on such horses, and brave to the ‘normals’ who wish their demise simply because they show the stupidity of ‘the accepted’. What makes matters worse is the inescapable fact that the square boys who jump to authority's beat never realise that by all of us joining as one with shared ideals and beliefs in love and justice, a common consensus amongst us could in five short minutes overturn the odds, tip the balance into the good and achieve what cynics term the ‘impossible’. But then what have they ever done, except moan and blindly strength of us cats? ‘Thus, here in Le Café Bleu, as we watch the senseless rush past the window, observe the suffering from here to eternity and discuss the cut of our cloth, we silently pray to be led from this miserable darkness into a place of supreme effulgencé, delivered from all evil and yes filled with life’s natural goodness! The lights twinkle sometimes, y’know, and once in a rare moment when I caught sight, by accident, of a rainbow harmony, well, boygirl, let me tell you now that such a spectacle is likely to fill you with such hope and optimism for life's possibilities that all the sordids throughout this great and vast earthland could never infringe upon your happiness at that moment.