The financial markets are in a turmoil, and it looks like the Euro is about to be abandoned as a universal European currency, and perhaps a breakup of the Eurozone itself. The wages of sin is death, sayeth the book, and the wages of feckless socialist left wing governance is also coming home to roost, like stormy petrels skimming over the ocean ahead of the gathering storm.

 

 

When in Rome I did live as a Roman

Walked the streets in the near dusky gloamin’

Not a care as I walked by the fountain

Water fall from a far away mountain

Perfumed women seemed gliding on satin

As the summer night gave way to Matin

Is it gone, has it vanished forever

Is the bond market planning to sever

Humdrum days from the nights of full pleasure

If it is then one’s joys in full measure

Will be gone with the petrels a-homin’

As the arrow returns to the bowman

 

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