Get what I mean?

Freddie had his analyst’s hat on. “You seem to put a lot of mental effort into a search for ‘meaning’.
“Do I?” I answered, playing him at his own game.
Undeterred, he continued. “Yes, you appear to be preoccupied with finding meaning in things which may be quite meaningless.”
“Nothing is meaningless.” I reply.
“Okay, but some things have no discernable meaning, and one could be wasting one’s lifetime searching.”
“Perhaps it is because I have the ‘philosopher’s temperament.’
Freddie smiled his enigmatic smile. “I’ll bet some psychiatrist told you that?”
“Well yes, actually. Don’t you think it’s true?”
“Oh yes, I would agree entirely – the question is, what do you do about it?”
Silence.
“Let me put it another way: You reject any religious ‘explanation’ of why we are here, what it’s ‘all about’, believing, if I understand correctly, in evolution and all that that implies – and yet you still seem to want to find a meaning – to life.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Well, no, actually, but in any case it is you we are talking about, George.”
A longer silence, in which I sit looking at the ‘Anyone who goes to see a psychiatrist…’ card. It is on a slant, and I guess whoever cleans Freddie’s office has knocked it whilst dusting. He hasn’t bothered to straighten it.
Freddie doesn’t mind silences. I used to, but I have come to accept them as being as valuable as what is being said. So I just sit there.
It is my analyst who breaks the silence.
“And it’s not just the big questions, of life and death. Take, for example, when you asked me: does a horse know it’s a horse? We discussed that for the whole of one session. And I grant you, the question is of real importance to say, a zoologist or indeed a psychologist.”
“Well, there you are, then.”
“Yes, George, but it their job to study such questions, and they do it in a structured, methodological, scientific fashion. You, on the other hand, worry at it – like a dog with a bone. It is as if you just cannot let go.”
I don’t reply because what he is saying is a bit too close for comfort.
But he continues. “And that is only one example. People, and why they do the things they do: why cruelty and selfishness exist; why children suffer at the hands of parents, and at school; the plight of the homeless, the sick, the disadvantaged - the unfairness of things.” You seem to fret about these things, all the time.
“I would not say I fret – I think about them, but doesn’t everybody?” I am feeling pushed into a corner.
“Once again, George, the answer is ‘No, not everyone. But even those who do: the ‘socially responsible’, the concerned, are able to put it aside for a while and get on with their lives.”
“You mean I can’t?”
“ What you need to learn, George, is when to let go.”

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What about you, Anna – do you think I need to learn to let go?

Anyway I have been giving some thought to your dilemma. One the one hand, I have never seen you in the role of ‘kept woman’, but on the other hand you do your share in this relationship, vis a vis the house and things, so really you are not a kept woman.

The problem of Brian not getting his supper when he comes home is one only you and he can solve – or perhaps negotiate – for example taking turns with the culinary arrangements, ditto with the housework.

The other problem of the expired work permit is something that did not occur to me when I made the suggestion in the first place. I suppose it depends whether or not Brian knows someone high enough up in bus company hierarchy who could turn a blind eye to the lack of said document, or perhaps doctor the records to show you have indeed produced a valid permit. This is of course illegal, and I am not suggesting you break the law.

On balance, no, I do not think you should take the bus-driving route.

Oh, and by the way ‘Bending someone’s ear’ is just a figure of speech. It means ‘getting someone to listen to you… your problems.’

I have something else I want to say but Nigel is badgering me to have a game of pool.

Will talk later

Your George