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