Monday

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My image was recorded this morning, for my safety and for the prevention of crime. At least, that is what the notice on the wall of the bus station told me.

Actually I was feeling quite safe anyway, and I had not considered committing a crime. But this is perhaps a churlish attitude to take toward those who have my interests at heart.

Incidentally, not many people use the word 'churlish' these days.
I do.
Apparently a churl was a medieval English peasant; a rude boorish person. But surely not all of them were rude and boorish. Perhaps the word 'rude' in this instance means more like it does in the term 'a rude hut': simple, basic, rough. Perhaps English peasants were like this. Who knows? But 'boorish' (without looking it up) means ill mannered, so perhaps this also was a characteristic of the medieval English peasant. For who would teach them manners?

But I digress. I am fiddling while Rome burns. (my Rome, not the Italian city). I won't go into details. You wouldn't be interested.

I do remember the windmill village. That was where I got 'caught short' (another English idiom - meaning: desperately, urgently  needing a visit to the nearest lavatory). Luckily, in Holland the lavatories are superb; very clean and well appointed. Here is another instance where continentals can teach us British something.

But there are some things that the British can teach the world. They are far too many to go into here.

I have not been in the mood for writing, but I will dance again.

Meanwhile, here is a poem:

Note to the Court of Human Rights

They've boarded up my windows of opportunity -
They say I pose a threat to the community -
So I sit here feeling glum,
Waiting for the van to come,
How can they flout my rights with such impunity?