can you tell me how to get how to get to sesame heelers

Me and my cousin Annie wandering along the shore of Lake Chitituit in the eastern United States.
Annie is the artist formerly known as Sculpticus.
It is a bright warm day and the lake is full of bathers.
I am complaining to the cousin.
"We are the only white people here," sez I, in that famous furtive whisper which some of you have come to know and love.
Annie gives me a searching look.
"James," she says with infinite patience, "don't you find fear so crippling?"
I ponder this for a moment.
"No Annie," I reply. "I find death crippling."
And from somewhere not to far away a kindly television presenter recites for the children:
"See the honkies. See the honkies on the beach. They are the only honkies there. Run honkies, run. Or you are gonna dieeeeeeeee..."

(Today's episode of The Heelers Diaries was brought to you by the numbers one and two, and by the colour purple. The Heelers Diaries is a production of The Grim Reaper's television workshop.)

strolling

Strolling with my brother Doctor Barn amid afternoon shoppers in early Autumn sunshine on main street Newbridge.
A little Nigerian child appears ahead of us.
He is about five years old.
He sees my brother and runs full tilt to him. He wraps his arms around Barn's tree trunk legs in a hug.
The doc smiles and says hello.
Presently the child runs back to his mother.
"I see them every week," explains the brother.
Then he looks at me more closely.
"What's wrong with you?" sez he.
I am a bit rheumy eyed.
"Ah Barn if only you could have seen it yourself," I tell him. "For a moment there you really did stand little lower than the angels."

special guest blogger william blake

the atoms of democritus
and newton's particles of light
are sands upon the red sea shore
where israel's tents do shine so bright