“In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald. (Attr.). To be honest I read that in a Snoopy cartoon in the 80s, back when I thought the Daily Mail practised ethical journalism. And in the interests of veracity, it is only 02:50.
I am surprised that no-one has brought this to my attention. Caution, the title is frankly yuck and an attention grabber. Anyway, it was an interesting article, we all have to live on this earth together and what keeps you awake may not trouble me, vice versa, quid pro quo, ad infinitum, et cetera, but I remain convinced that the main protagonist’s concept of reality is at a huge remove from mine. That is not necessarily a bad thing, we all know I body swerve confrontation and that we are the product of our experiences as much as of our genetic make up. I accord his opinions as much validity as mine own, but the day I start showing an excessive interest in family spraints is the day you may terminate our association, with impunity. Or extreme prejudice, wee nod to Arnie there and his much publicised cycle past my office, the wrong way, up the bus lane. There is a fairly disgusting pong issuing from the Caledonian Hotel swimming pool, which wafts along that very arterial route. That would be what made him forget where he was. Yes.
Where was I? Dear only knows. I forgive myself for this stream of thought, we have of late been engaged in some very difficult tasks, emotionally, and there are more on the horizon. The word esurient has just arrived at the front of my brain so I am away to look it up. I do forget the meaning of many words beginning with e, like egregious. Well there you go, it means hungry. Given that is my default condition these days, I would have expected me to know that. An egregious* lack of vocabulary.
Some good things are on the way. A mixture of modesty and superstition forbids me to elucidate, plus I could be talking mince, ha ha ha ha ha ha cough cough. And I actually saw a television programme from start to finish the other night, it was The Comic Strip presents….. Red Top with Maxine Peake and Stephen Mangan. I highly recommend it. Even The Guardian liked it, and they did come in for some satirical references along the way. Can you believe MP was Twinkle in dinnerladies? Ever such a long time ago and I see there were only 16 episodes made, just like there were only 13 Postman Pats. That’s not including Padraig Post in the Gaelic, natch.
Well that’s two lots of War and Peace downloaded so I think I shall watch them. Dad’s Army film will be out soon, I do hope it’s good. Cast list is encouraging and the BBC film on the same subject was brilliant. I shall close, therefore.
*awfy