Looking north from Westybrookus, nothing but grey and scuddy rainy stuff. Ooh, very Novemberish indeed. Cool too, weight in the wind, bend over, shiver shiver. Truth be told, allatsea much prefers this to the sun and gentleness of recent days. No out-front chaos, no acres of ugly white fat to upset the stomach, no toodified supermini drivers owning the whole world. No tattoos on hog-leg thighs shouting pride instead of cringe-making shame. Joy.
A parcel company has texted that a delivery will arrive between 1141 and 1241. No sense of irony in the apparent contradiction with the use of such precise yet imprecise times. It doesn’t bode well for sparkling debate does it? It does mean though that someone will be in for the parcel when it arrives and that, when all said and done, is what the message was all about. Not the semantics of numbers and notions of time.
Blimey that’s a bit of a heavy start for a Monday. Where did it come from? Possibly the footage and news coming in from Iraq and Kenya and Ukraine where man is happily turning his fellow earth citizens into ash or worm food with not the slightest, it seems, care in the world. In the name of ‘freedom’ or ‘god’ they happily massacre and hate their way onwards. Effing phuckwits to a one, no doubt of that, but also a salient reminder that all of us perhaps, are just a tiny tiny nudge away from similar barbarity.
It’s not a happy thought is it?