Tuesday, July 31, 2012

A sobering thought?


Do you know what I am, Anna? An elaborate machine for passing on the genes that made it. Just the same as any animal or plant, I am a survival machine for genes. I got that from the book "The Magic of Reality" by Richard Dawkins. Of course I knew this but he puts it so clearly, succinctly that I thought it worth quoting here.

A sobering thought: My only purpose in this world is to propagate the species. Everything else is window-dressing.


And what makes it worse is that my particular species, homo sapiens, is the only one (apparently) stuck with the added indignity of knowing this is the case! One wonders why natural selection came up with self-consciousness.


It’s like a puppet being able to look up and see who’s pulling the strings and yet be powerless to do anything about it. Maybe that’s why some folk commit suicide: the ultimate action of taking control.


I saw the film, The Hours, for the second time yesterday. Virginia Woolf:


“My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery—always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What’s this passion for?”


 ...filled the pockets of her cardigan with stones and walked into a river. My cardigan hasn't got any pockets - can you imagine that! And it's Marks and Spencer. What is happening to the world, Anna?


As my grandma might have said: It’s a bugger.


 I look out the window and it’s pissing down. In July! And chilly, to boot.  And I have just been informed that the dining room window is permitting the ingress of water – because the guttering is blocked. This looks like a job for Superman .


Why do you not see as much chrome about these days? On cars, I mean, and motor-bikes. Except Harley-Davidsons - and my bike, which is a Honda and over thirty years old. I am allowed to keep it here in Mistress Bulstrode’s cavernous garage I tell her she could supplement the household income by renting it to illegal immigrants (the garage not the bike)  but she ignores me.


Bench seats. They’ve disappeared too. All part of our obsession with Health and Safety, I suppose. I once had a Ford Consul 375 with bench seats. It was brilliant. It sort of rolled along. And I could imagine I was in America – where they are not so much afflicted by such Health and Safey issues.  And they love chrome! And that’s what I like about America: the glitzy, unashamed brashness, the cheerful vulgarity; the  refusal to be constrained by the limitations of "good taste". Wonderful.


And what will happen when our nanny-state gains complete control of our Health and our Safety? When no one smokes, does drugs or abuses alcohol? When everyone eats sensibly and exercises regularly, and no one is obese? When everyone practices safe sex, and there's no Jeremy Kyle? When crime and deprivation have finally been eliminated and everyone obeys the speed limit? When playground swings and rounabouts are perfectly safe and children don't climb trees and jump acrosss streams?


Will we all live happily ever after? I don't think so.


Don't think that I am advocating "anti- social behaviour" or poisoning yourself with toxic chemicals or even sexual irresponsibily. Or putting children at risk. I'm not. It's just that if you make life "risk free" then you take away that very Life you are trying to protect.


Incidentally, regarding children, I heard a woman on the radio say: children thrive on a bit of healthy neglect.And I thought: You sure spat a bootful there, sister.


Talking of sisters - good to hear Wilma is gainfully employed. When I was little I wanted to run away to join a circus. Do you think there's still time?


I don't mind if you are...  getting it on with Dave. (I believe that is the cool expression. It used to be...having it off. Funny how two apparently contradictory statements can have the same meaning.)


Everyone is entitled to be happy - or as happy as they can be. I truly believe that. And if a little dalliance with Dave makes you happy... go for it, girl.

Unfortunately, for myself, I don't think a little dalliance would make me happy. Except with your goodself, I hasten to add. 

But I know you will always come back to me - my little Swedish boomerang!

Anyway, I am counting my loose change to see if I have enough money to buy myself a pair of trousers. That is an indication of the depths to which I have sunk.

But I'll dance again.

Yours as ever

George



Sunday, July 29, 2012

Do not fear
For I am here


Little couplet (like Shakespeare writes) to start off on positive footnote.

Regard to my sister - whose name it is Wilma - she does not have hock injury because hock is something found on animal and my sister is not animal (though I sometimes call her old cow but this only because she is elder one of  us).

She does not compete in weightlifting games any further. Wilma is kicked out of amateurs because she is dopey. Which mean taking the unprescriptive medicines or uncontrollable certain substances which are drugs, and include the steroid which make her look like man. (well, more like man than she already does - I tell her: Why you shave head and yet keep hair under arms? - this do you no favours). But she is of the short temper and powerful with it, so I shut up.


(I do not mention unladylike habit of spitting on hands before grasping weight bar.)


 Anyways she has now joined circus (travelling) and has name in big letters on poster which say WORLD'S STRONGEST LADY. Which she is not - but who is to know this.)


But I am digressing from main point. Which is you must cheer up Georgie. Remember howsoever bad things are they could get worse. And you must also keep on with the writings. One day your talents will be recognised and I will sit proudly by your side as you sign copies of your book in famous book shop -Waterstones


But also remember that - as I am before telling you - sometimes one has to aim a bit lower if he is going to hit anything at all. And so why not write the porn novel? I could be technical adviser on such a project.


Yes, I did sit of sofa with Dave and watch opening ceremony of Games which was excellent, because I did not think Brits could organize drunken night in brewery. (I clean that one up... ha ha). But they obviously can. And what a game bird is your Queen and no mistaking. Of course she do not really leap from helicopter instead arrive at back door in big car, but who is complaining about that? Not I.


 Swedish athletes will win most gold medals but will be humble about it.


Do not be thinking yet about epitaph. We have much to do, yourself and me! (notice exclamation mark).


Looking at the television I see the Warner Hotels are offering special discounts for mature couples (well at least one of us is mature) so be getting finger out and organising.


Your (getting more restless) Anna

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Where are you?

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Where are you, Anna, in my hour of need?

I bet you were on the sofa with Clive last night, watching the opening ceremony of the Games.

I watched it. I thought it was spectacular. Yes, I know... the expense and all that stuff. And I was a bit cynical at first when I thought of how the money could have been spent: the homeless, the poor, the disadvantaged, the sick. And perhaps you could say it was a junket for the rich, the privileged, the powerful, but at the same time you had to admire the planning, the effort, the creativity the sheer exuberance of mind and spirit that had come together to produce last night's performance.


I am not, as you know, a particularly sporting type, and perhaps there could be some other way of demonstrating all that's best in human endeavour and achievement. But we've got the Games. So let's enjoy them.

(By the way... when your lot marched past I kept a look our for that sister of yours - whatsername - the weightlifter. Couldn't see her, though. Did she recover from that hock injury?)

My mouth is better - although you haven't asked - but I have been down and in need of support - I will not burden you with the details - but where is that support...?

I do my best, and yet am misunderstood by those around me. Perhaps that is the lot of the artist and visionary.

Still, I soldier on, uncomplaining.

Nevertheless it would be nice to know that someone cared.

George


Thursday, July 26, 2012

And there abideth...


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And there abideth Faith, Hope and Money
And the greatest of these is Money.


Gordon Comstock in: Keep the aspidistra flying.


Money, Anna, Money. I could used some right now.



As you know, the publishers reject my books: Too controversial, they say. (Even my autobiography!)


And then here comes this young upstart of a woman with her Fifty Shades of Grey. Her first novel -   and it's a runaway best-seller. Have you read it, Anna? 


I haven't. Can't be bothered. From what I can gather it's soft porn

- a pale imitation of The Story of O.


It can't be hard to do soft porn.



I thought of writing a novel to appeal to the salacious taste of the masses - and make a few bucks. It would be a reversal of the Fifty Shades of Grey plot: A wealthy aristocratic woman ensares a poor farm labourer and keeps him as her sex slave. I even had a working title: Lady Loverley's Chattel. (Has a certain ring to it, eh?) But then I thought: No, I am not going to lower my standards, compromise my artistic integrity - just for a few thousand in the bank.


But what am I going to do, Anna? Wolves howl outside my door, vultures hover at my window.



Your philosophy is all very well - and may work for you - but remember I come from a genteel background. I cannot help my refinement, my sensitivity. The coarseness of life offends, and I recoil from it.


It will soon be my birthday and I am thinking of going away, cutting myself off, from everyone. You may think that is being a coward... but remember the Arab saying: The bravest thing is to run away.


Of course, in the desert you have plenty of places to run - all of them sandy, admitted, but still lots of open space.


I have been thinking recently what I would like as my epitaph - you know, that pithy but moving comment engraved on one's tombstone. Everyone knows Spike Milligan's: "See - I told you I was ill" and W C Fields: "On the whole I'd rather be in Philadelphia". 


I was once sitting in a cafe and there was a notice over the freezer containing ice creams. It read: Please close the lid after choosing your ice cream. And the bizarre thought came into my head: what a brilliant epitaph. Just imagine those words carved on a tombstone. 


Of course, nowadays cremation seems to be the preferred option for disposing of un-needed bodies.


That reminds me: remember when I was in the loony bin back in  2010? Mad Clive wrote a poem which I posted on the blog - April, 13th if you're interested - about wanting to be shot into space. Now that idea appeals to me.


The Olympic Games commence tomorrow, and I can't help thinking of that comment of Myra's as she was leaving with Hector: The future has already happened - it's just that we haven't got there yet.
This would mean that all the medals have already been won! What a thought!


My head is in a spin at the moment, so write to me, Anna, with a bit of your steadying commonsense.


Your (confused) Georgie




Sunday, July 22, 2012

Do not be distressing oneself, Georgie.


Always be looking for the advantage in the disadvantage. As one door shuts the other door closes is well to be remembered.


I can take care of self with Dave. So, I now let himself share bed with me because of sofa doing his back in. But I advise him firmly that bed is only for sleeping in - as far as concerning him


Now with this woman name of Bulstrode who is landlady. Let her be downsizing if she is so wishing but remember houses difficult to sell in this poor country what is on the blocks as Sven is saying. So maybe she is doing the bluff, but in any case scenario - not necessarily the worst - if you have to move to one bedroom bungalow say to her something of the following... my religion does not permit me to fornicate with woman who is not my mistress. Also go to bed with strong pyjamas, tightly buttoned.


Remember also this only for short time period we have to suffer indignity of strange bedfellows. In my next year which is final last year I am permitted to rent student flat with room-mate!!


I say no more because computer may be bugged like everything else in your bloody country, but I am touching nose with finger... you understand?


So take heart and save yourself for me, as I am mostly saving me for you too.


But remember what I am told by my mentor (Yvette) when I join adult film industry: If one maybe is compelled, due to exigency of situation to endure intimacy with undesirable person, consider it like maybe having to eat meal at crappy restaurant because one is hungry. And just say to oneself - well, I did not really enjoy that but it will put me on till I get proper meal.


This what is known as making best of bad job lot. And I have found to be good philosophy in life.


Write promptly to let me know you feeling better.


Your Anna


Please notice new word I learn - Exigency

Thursday, July 19, 2012

What is the world coming to?

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When I came downstairs this morning my landlady said to me: I'm thinking of downsizing.

I said: Well you could do with losing a few pounds, but I wouldn't say you were fat.

No, STUPID : she retorted,  I mean I'm looking for a smaller house.

Letting the insult pass, I said: But you couldn't get much smaller than this house... what are you looking for? A rabbit hutch?

Ignoring my attempt at humour, she went on: A small bungalow - that would suit my needs. One bedroom, she added, pointedly.

Alarmed now, I protested: But what about me? Your lodger!

Well, I'm afraid you would just have to find alternative accomodation. She waited a moment for this to sink in - noting with smug satisfaction the look of panic that crossed my face  - before continuing, Unless, of course we could come to a more - how shall I say - COSY domestic arrangement.

 I was aghast as the full import of her words struck me. That was truly a blow below the belt.

I was so shocked I immediately went back to bed, thereby forfeiting my breakfast.

Oh Anna. Is this what it has come to - the harsh realities of life driving each of us, against our will, into the arms of another?

A cruel twist of fate that could have come straight from the pen of Emily Bronte.

What are we to do?

Yours in trepidation

George



Monday, July 16, 2012

How dare you

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No - I am not sulking. I never sulk. I may feel hurt, taken for granted, put-upon, abused... but I never sulk.
 
So - I make a mistake about a tennis player and I am attacked from both sides of the Atlantic: a pincer movement. I can deal with that.

A chap does his best, and this is the thanks he gets. Well I can cope with that. 


May I remind you, though, that I have more to do than write to you; I have two model aeroplanes waiting to be finished. (I have also completed a collage and was going to publish it here but now I am not so sure).


I also have a busy social life! Oh yes, I could be down the pub right now, having a game of pool or just chatting to Jim or Charlie or whoever might be in tonight.

Or I could just be sitting with my landlady watching the telly. She's always saying to me What you doing sitting up in that room all on your own? Come downstairs, there's a good programme on tonight.
I've got a few cans in... we could have a really cosy evening.

In fact, that is what I'll do - right now. I happen to know there is a drama on at 9pm. I'm going to watch it.

I may decide to write again later.

George

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Why do you not respond, Georgie?

I hope you are not doing the sulking.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Georgie I am very angry at you and there being two reasons - maybe perhaps three reasons.

One is that you mistake tennis player Bjorg to be Swedish. Such an insult to my country. Do not you watch the television programme called The Killing ? And do not you see that Swedish men are manly, with the short haircut and not like this man who with long hair look like Goldielocks (in faireytale) and has to wear girlie band to stop from falling over the eyes?

And what is also worse is you having to have pointed out error by American! (domiciled only). Such a letting down to European Community is what I think.

Also do not you see how similarity lies with the man Federer, who also have band to stop silly floppy hair from falling into eyes? Therefore should have been obvious that these men both are descendant of cuckoo-clock land.

 Secondary -  maybe thirdly - is why you do not support own countryman Andy? OK, so he is from land of barbarians, Scotland,but this still part of UK - until funny little man with name of fish declares independancy.


This lanky boy Andy is playing his heart out on centre court and you are rooting for some girlie Swisslander. 


Ashamed of yourself is what you should be.


Now - too late it is to be telling me not to move in with Dave, for this I have done because of danger of police visit to Gerda flat when I do not wish to be present. (Also please note that me and Dave was rooting together on sofa, for Andy).


But we do not share same bed because Dave sleep on sofa (same sofa we root on). Even though this is "doing back in" - this is what he tell me.


I go now to prepare meal for Dave for when he returns from a hard day invigilating (?).


Expecting reply from you apologetic.


Anna

Sunday, July 08, 2012

Being superstitious is unlucky

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People talk about the need for a moral compass. 

How about the need for an immoral compass? One which points towards the vices you ought to pursue; indicates the disgraceful behaviour you should indulge in; swings towards the sort of wrong crowd you could get in with.

What do you think, Anna?

Changing the subject:
 
Sometimes it's the little unexpected incident that cheers you up. I was in a pub, and when the barmaid was pulling my pint I remarked upon the inclement weather. She said, I wish it could always be Spring. And somehow, that chance remark brightened my day - and endeared me to this young lady. I gave her a tip.


Another time I was in McDonalds and saw an attractive young girl, in the livery of that restaurant, cleaning trays - vigorously, thoroughly. I said to her, You're making a really good job of those.
Yes, she said, with a smile, I'm a professional.

And again, that made me feel better. Made my day better. So it's worth remembering, Anna, the odd pleasantry is worth the effort.

By the way, talking of 'pulling pints' I wrote a poem called 'On the pull'. Would you like to read it?

I am reading a book at the moment: The Accidental Masterpiece.
It is absolutely.

I am stopping for the moment because I want to watch the 'Men's Final'. Shall you be watching it Anna? I shall be rooting for Federer. I seldom root for anyone - I am not a rooter. But I like F - I think he is a real 'gent' - like your old countryman, Bjorg.

Anyway, I shall continue later, because I have more to say.

Your George 

Saturday, July 07, 2012

Anthopromorphism

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Such a grand word, Anna: its shape on the printed page, the pattern of consonants and vowels. Its delightful sound.

 It hardly matters what the word actually means.

Anyway, I just thought I would share that with you.

A warning: Do not stay with  'Dave'. I know these college tutors: they are lustful men, and are out for all they can get. They will sleep with anyone (no offence meant there, Anna).

Also I don't think you should comply with Gerda's instructions to secrete the memory-stick in the lavatory cistern. Do you not understand that this makes you an accessory to whatever criminal activity she is engaged upon?

I will speak more fully, but I wanted to get this posted because I am concerned for your safey (moral as well as physical).

Yours in trepidation

George

Friday, July 06, 2012

Do not be ever reminding me again please of that horrible animal. That incident left a psychological scar upon my mind.

Of course I know who are the Gnomes of Zurich. You think I perceive of them as little dwarf men with big heads but no I am not such stupid. They are men of finance who hold moneys from all sorts of accounts of questionable people such as criminal element and those who wish to avoid tax. Many such accounts are known only by a number. You ask how I know this? Well, I keep schtum, as my friend Gerda say.

Which is bringing me to point. I have received from Gerda strange text message. It say -

 Expect visit from Old Bill. Go quickly to my knicker drawer and find memory stick burried under items. Take and wrap tightly in polybag (also in drawer) and hide in lavatory cistern, urgent like.

This message disturb me because I think Old Bill is police. Am I right? And since I do not wish to be questioned by these people I think I should get out of flat (after having hid stick, which I have already done).

I should be up creek with paddle as you say but for fact Dave who is my tutor offers let me stay at his place for few days. He is currently on own since wife leave him and say he would be glad of company and would not take from me any rental expenses.

Anyways this mean have to postpone our reunion for time being. (I ask Dave if you could possibly stay at his place also, but he is not very happy about this. I think he is shy about meeting new people.)

Oh and do not be concering about Mr Higgs and his particle (always you worry about others). Switzerland is fine place to be and am sure they take great care of particle.

But how perhaps are you my Georgie?  I am heartbroken we may not meet as planned but will only be for few days, of this I am sure.

Write quickly (but not about your brother and his schnauzer)

Until we meet soon

Anna


Thursday, July 05, 2012

Now look here!

How dare you call me a wimp.

What about that time you were playing with my brother's schnauzer, and he bit you? There was hardly any blood but you screamed the place down. Demanded to be taken to A&E immediately. Which I did, causing me to miss the DNA results on Jeremy Kyle.

AND for your information, the Royal Air Force is part of the military.

 I see they have found the Higgs Boson particle - in Switzerland, of all places. Wouldn't you think that something so important would have been found in a proper country - like America?

I mean, who exactly are the Swiss?  I know they live in a tiny country called Switzerland, hemmed in by Germany, France, Italy and Austria - but who are they? They don' t make anything - except cuckoo-clocks and cheese with holes (and they teach Yodelling, but there can't be a big demand for that) so where do they get their money? 
 
And now they've got this Collider thing which - according the newspapers - has gone and found this particle that explains how the universe began.


Okay, so they got mountains - but so has America.  So why couldn't they have built this machine under the Rockies? I think there is something here we are not being told.

Is connected with the banking scandal? (I suppose you have heard of the Gnomes of Zurich, Anna?). Is Bob Diamond, who pretends to be American, really Swiss?

 I'll grant you the Swiss are civilised, enlightened (one of only four countries to allow voluntary euthanasia) and they don't get involved in wars and stuff like that. But even so, there's something fishy going on here.


Anyway, I haven't got time to get drawn into all this stuff.


Okay, re Gerda's flat - let's go for it.


Can't wait.


George

Monday, July 02, 2012

What is all this talk about lady dentists? Do perhaps you see lady dentist as mother figure who is taking care of her little boy with having to do nasty thing to him for sake of his own benefit? I think this is most unhealthy psychology.

Also is being baby about sore mouth. They would not allow in military which you say you serve in to be such wimpy person. Anyway you do not serve in military - this I know because you tell me you serve in RAF.

I am thinking when you say what is other circumstances where lady with rubber gloves shove hand in mouth of other person, this is what is called 'rhetorical question'?  So am not answering it. But I could.


I do not think Gerda return unexpectantly but how can one be certain when one is not psychic person? Anyways does not the small hint of danger excite? You always saying you like live on the edge (except when you fall off edge of bed and injure oneself) so why not take opportunity to live further on edge? This is what I am saying.

Oh and this thing about woodworms measuring in periclues or whatever sounds very disturbing. Are you still taking your medications?

Your ever loving

Anna