God, Biscuits and Sweet Wine

I believe in God, biscuits and sweet wine. The shamble leg man felt a cursing wind tearing the side of his head. This was not uncommon, as he spent most of his day in the open foraging for God, biscuits and sweet wine. Knowing what he did, which was very little, he felt at ease in the world. In the in between times the shamble leg man would sit on a bench, slatted and repined with paint, green or yellow-blue, taking in the world eating a raw onion sandwich with Plock mustard and cheese slices, an apple cored and cut into wedges, and a sip-sac, orange or grape-aide, which he sucked through a plastic straw, which some mistook to be a bobbin or a rector’s sluice.