Thursday, October 30, 2014

'Night, Mothering Night, take us on your knee/And hide our eyes from the blank face of eternity'




Bedtime story




It’s for the best

It was a lovely funeral; everybody said so. Reverend Wilkins said such nice things about mother – even though she never went to church. We all cried. I cried so much they unlocked the handcuffs so I could get a packet of tissues out of my pocket. Alice, standing next to the policewoman, leaned forward and gave me an encouraging smile.
Mother didn’t want to go into a home; she said so, time and time again. But she couldn’t look after herself; not really. When dad died we’d wanted her to move into a bungalow; those stairs were so steep. But she was adamant. ‘I’ve lived in this house since me and your dad got married, and I’m stopping here ‘till they carry me out in a box.’ And now they had done.

During the singing of ‘Abide with Me’ my thoughts drifted back to that Monday morning. Alice had called round and, as usual, the question of a ‘care home’ came up.  I had just got mother out of bed and dressed, and she was in one of her moods. The three of us stood there on the landing, mother ranting and raving, saying she was ‘going into no home’, and me and Alice trying to calm her down. 

Finally, Alice put her arm gently around mother’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. ‘All right, darling, if you don’t want to go into a home, you don’t have to.’ Then gave her a push. I was surprised at the noise mother made as she bounced down the stairs. I guess it was the fact that she was so frail, her bones were jangling. The cat appeared at the kitchen door to see what all the fuss was about. 

‘It’s for the best.’ Alice said. I nodded. I would never have had the courage to chuck mother downstairs; so Alice had done it for me. 

Where would we be without social-workers.

The sun shines on the golden fields of suburbia.

And I am about to take breakfast.  In the breakfast room -where else!

This is a frugal meal - no egg, bacon, nor yet sausage - just cereal, banana, nuts and fruit.

Later that same day


I've been reading a book: a universe from nothing by Lawrence M Krauss (a particle physisist) in which he argues that physics has produced evidence that not only is it possible, but it is probable that the universe did in fact originate from 'empty' space.

I could have been a particle physisist, but being hopeless at maths held me back.

Although, I was always interested in science. When I was boy my parents bought me a Chemistry Set. I set fire to the curtains with a bunsen burner. What a wonderful blaze. How my parents laughed.

It was after this incident that I decided that I could have a better career as an arsonist than a chemist.

Chapter 8 of a universe from nothing is called 'A Grand Accident' , and I was reminded of the poem I wrote some time ago - and posted on this blog - which begins:

We are an accident –

The offspring of a Cosmic ‘one night stand’
Big Bang
Unplanned...

But now I wouldn't use the word 'accident' because it sounds like something unpleasant, unwelcome.
CHANCE is a better word. It's optimistic; full of possibilities. A chance! That is what we have been offerred. Let's grab it.









 




Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Bedtime

Too tired to do much, but this has been bothering me:

Can a question still exist if there's no one around to ask it?

I'll sleep on it.

Tuesday

The view from Pauline's bedroom - through the net curtains.

Urgent business has taken me away from the keyboard - but I shall be back

Monday, October 20, 2014

Good morning world

***************************************

Of course, you lot in America will still be asleep - or just waking up!

Never mind - have a good day.

(do not ask what the day will do for you; rather, what you will do for the day!... where have I heard that before?)

It's raining in this small corner of a small island, on a small planet, in a small universe.

The scientists tell us there are thousands of universes like ours; other planets like ours, and other life on those planets.

That's all very well, but it doesn't help me in deciding what I'm going to have for lunch. I could cook some pasta or I could travel into town and visit the cafe of the lovely Italian lady. Decisions, decisions.

(just thought: there could be an identical person to me, somewhere in another universe, facing the same decisions)

Here's a book I can recommed:






Paul Boghossian is Silver Professor of Philosophy at New York University.

Well, he was when he wrote the book. For all I know he may now be delivering Pizza.


Thought for tomorrow

What is really important is not so much the 'answers', but thinking of the right questions to ask.


Sunday, October 19, 2014

On a train bound for nowhere

***************************************

How do you know if you need a new knee?

I only ask because I met a friend I hadn't seen for years and, when I asked how he was, he said - Well, I could do with a new knee.

I have another friend who is shortly going into hospital to have a hip replacement. I was surprised to learn this because I had not noticed him limping - but he is usually sat on a bar-stool when I see him.

Maybe there is a correlation between how much pain and discomfort you are in, and how much you fear surgery. A sort of threshold.

Anyway, I will leave that topic for a moment.

I am on a train heading into the city. The sun is strobing through the trees and I can feel warmth through the window. Usually, when on public transport, I like to just look out the window or watch the other passengers - but today I am jotting down some thoughts.

The train glides into a country platform. Then it's off again - two minutes, I think they are allowed. (I once did some part time work for the Post Office. On a mainline station, loading and unloading sacks of mail. That's how I know about the two minute rule.)

I could fall asleep here, rocked by the rhythm of the rails.

Now we have arrived at a little station in deep cutting. I know this station well; I used to get off here when I worked at a factory, half a mile up the road. But don't get me on the old nostalgia trip - they were happy days though (mostly).

Still, as someone said, 'King Charles' Golden Days are here and now' (I think it may have been King Charles.)

Oh, now we've stopped just outside a bigger station. It's the one you get off at for the airport. It's named after a famous Beatle. Strange having an airport called Dung.

Look at all the backs of houses flying past. I always wonder who lives in them; what sort of life they have: their hopes, dreams, fears. Perhaps they are thinking - I wonder who is in that train. Well, it's me!

I'd like to live in a house backing onto a railway line. I did once. Well, it was a flat. But my wife didn't like the noise of the trains - amongst other things. So we only stayed one week! Looking back, it might have benefited everyone if I had put my foot down with a firm hand.

Blue sky over the rooftops. Not a cloud in sight. The weather people say we are in for a heatwave - in October! That'll be good.

I see a cathedral. This city has got two. Now that's what I call planning - having a back-up cathedral. I don't know how many mosques, but it does have a dance-hall called 'MECCA'.

We've arrived. A man with an orange baseball cap walks down the aisle, trailing a dog on a leash. I had an orange baseball cap. It was given to me as a present - but I can't find it.

I also once had a dog. Her name was Wendy. But she got run-over by a bus.

Anyway, to the job in hand. Let's get going.

Thought for the day: There are some people for whom appearance is more important than the reality. In fact, for them, it is the reality.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Answers

*****************************

The answers lie in the brain - not the supernatural.
But it is the brain that raises the questions in the first place, so where does that leave us?
Perplexed.

Grey are the skies, motionless the trees. It's as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for something. But what?

I've had another night of messy, disturbing dreams. What do they mean? Do they mean anything at all? Some do, I think.

And now we have Ebola to worry about - courtesy of West Africa and air travel.

That reminds me: I was YouTubing again and I came across another conspiracy theory. It was being suggested - backed by the testimony of various 'experts' - that no planes crashed into the World Trade Centre, but that it was done with holograms, and the buildings exploded from the inside. How can this be? It sounds barmy, and yet all these people were coming forward: airline pilots, engineers, mathematicians, all saying it could not have happened like we all believe it happened.
As I say, it sounds barmy, but I became so engrossed I was late for my drum lesson!

I could do with a holiday.

They tell me Tangier,
At this time of year,
Is a pleasant enough place to be;
And Rome is alright
(Just to stay for one night) -
But I'll probably go to Torquay.


Oh, by the way, Hector's left. I heard the gravelly roar of his Harley at 6am this morning. He left a note saying he was sorry but that he had been 'summoned on matters of national security.'
He's a liar.

 Mrs Bulstrode is heartbroken. But she can't say I didn't warn her. The man's a cad, a bounder, a blackguard. I am ashamed to call him my (half) brother.
But if my landlady thinks I am going to take his place in her affections - or her bed - she can think again.

It was the same when we were boys. Being the elder he always got first choice of toys. And when he tired of something: a teddy bear, a train set, a bicycle he would pass them on to me. Well I'm having no more of his cast-offs.

 I shall go and get my breakfast. And you won't catch me crying in my cornflakes; good riddance - that's what I way.

Monday, October 13, 2014

'... A soft answer turneth away wrath' ?

... or so says The Bible... or is it The Quoran?... Or maybe The Upanishads? Or Bardo Thodol? Anyway, it's one of the instruction manuals on 'the art of living'.*

Well, in my experience a 'soft answer' inviteth increasing wrath, and giveth the impression that thou is a softie and deserveth all thou gets.

* Yes, I know this quote is from the Bible - book of proverbs.


Scenes from Pub Life - #143

I raise my glass - not to toast absent friends, but to check if the beer is cloudy. It isn't. So I drink.

A tall girl - made even taller by her stiletto heels - standing at the bar, gives me a friendly smile. I think I know her. She used to live in my road.
I smile back. I ignore the two beer-bellied men at her side.

The barmaid, a plump blonde sucking a lollipop, hands me my change. I never check it. Funny that: I check for the beer being cloudy but never inspect my change. I go and sit down. I don't like standing at the bar. I mean, if you've paid for your drink you deserve a seat.

A leather-jacketed, willowy blonde (another one) glides into the lavatory - which is opposite to where I'm sitting (no, I don't choose this seat deliberately!) and I catch a whiff of perfume as she passes - very nice.

I reflect on what a wonderful place a pub is. Nobody asks you any questions and they will go on serving you until your money runs out. Not that I ever stay in a pub until my money runs out - although I have a friend who does.

Back to the bar. This time it's the brunette with the black goggle-like glasses. 'Those glasses suit you.' I say. 'Yes, everybody says that.' she replies.

Back to my seat.

It's very pleasant in here. And I think, this is a good planet to be on, despite all the bad stuff.

Clip-clop. High heels. Another young lady trots to the bar. The barmaid asks her something and she clip-clops back to check with 'Dave'. What a macho name, 'Dave'. No wonder she is prepared to go to the bar for the drinks while he sits there thumbing his cell-phone.

Clip-clop. She's back again to further check with Dave. She obviously wants to make sure she's got it right. I bet Dave would give her an earful if she got it wrong.

The beer is starting to get to my legs. The legs are always the first to feel the effects. The head comes later. I wonder just what is happening in this chemical factory I call a brain.

Here is a poem, dedicated to Barmaids, everywhere:


On the Pull

This barmaid has a life
When she goes away from here –
What d’you think she’s pulling
When she isn’t pulling beer?

Perhaps she’s pulling wool
Over unsuspecting eyes –
Perhaps she’s pulling rabbits
Out of hats – as a surprise.

Perhaps she’s pulling up her socks,
Resolving to do better –
Perhaps she’s pulling out the rug
From under from under some go-getter.

Perhaps she’s pulling ropes
To make the church bells ring –
Perhaps she’s pulling tails
On cats – the naughty thing.

Perhaps she’s pulling faces
To make her boyfriend smile –
Perhaps she’s pulling up her skirts
To climb some rustic stile.

Perhaps she’s pulling on the oars
Of rowing boat or skiff  –
Perhaps she’s pulling out her gear
To roll herself a spliff.


Perhaps she’s pulling up the weeds
To make her garden pretty –
Perhaps she’s pulling crackers
And reading jokes, so witty.


Perhaps she’s pulling down her blind
Before she goes to bed –
Perhaps she’s pulling out the corks
And watching wine flow red.

Perhaps she’s pulling out all stops,
Some gentleman to please –
Perhaps she’s pulling muscles
And dislocating knees.

For there are oh so many things
A girl like her could pull –
So when she’s finished here tonight,
I bet her life’s not dull.

  







Sunday, October 12, 2014

The security to be free..

****************************

'Freedom's just another word
For nothing left to lose...'

('Me and Bobby Mcgee'... Kris Kristofferson)

Well, you could be right there, Kris.

I also think that freedom is only possible where there is security; this was discovered - regrettably too late - in Iraq.

I admire Pacifists - but I think that you can only be a Pacifist in a country where there are enough people prepared to fight; fight to make that country one where you are free to chose Pacifism.

Sunday morning


Bird in tree as seen through window

I don't know what kind of bird - or what kind of tree. But I do know the window is double-glazed. (circa 2010)

[note for future historians - the window is in Llandudno library]





I think this blog has lost something with the departure of Anna: levity? frivolity? irreverence? or just plain silliness?

She will be back.

Meanwhile, I tackle the major issues of the day - and there are many of these.

I have been doing some research on the spread of Islam; the aims of ISIS and all of that stuff. But I don't feel up to tackling these subjects so early in the morning. Later.

Yesterday I went for a spin on the motorbike. Ended up at a pub for a late lunch of gammon, egg, chips and peas; plus a pudding and a glass of Guinness.

Some light rain on the return journey but not enough to cause any worries.

I think I would know it was a Sunday, even if I were in the middle of the Sahara or the sub-arctic wastes of Alaska. There is something about the feel of a Sunday.

Anyway, I am going to sort myself out (what a strange expression) and then journey to McDonalds for Sunday luncheon.




Saturday, October 11, 2014

Early portrait


I accidentally put my T shirt on back to front this morning.  I thought of leaving it tha way, as a protest against the sameness of life.

(The Ballad of Lucy Jordan is not about a 37 year old suburban housewife - it's about the quiet desperation of all those for whom life has not lived up to its promises - or their expectations.)

But it felt uncomfortable - so I took it off and put it on the right way round.

I am drinking a cup of Green Tea. It was recommended to me by my granddaughter. (yes I know, I appear far too young to have a granddaughter - but remember, I was married very early - to my first wife - and naturally, being a virile type of guy... well, there you are.)

The early morning rain has cleared and the sun breaks through, so I am going for a spin on the motorbike. Hector has offered to let me have a go on his Harley, but relationships between us are strained at the moment; his nocturnal activities with our landlady have been disturbing my sleep. I have told them both about this and suggested they move the bed slightly away from the wall. So far there has been no response to what I consider to be a reasonable request.

Yesterday found me sitting on a seat on the city railway station concourse. A young man was sitting next to me and a woman was standing talking to him. Eventually the man got up and walked away. And it was only then that I realised they were not together.

The woman, turned to me and, smiling apologetically, said, 'I know I talk too much when I've had a bit to drink.' I noticed then that her young, rather pretty face, had that slightly vague, but amiable look of someone who is companionably drunk.

I felt a sympathy - and indeed a sort of envy. She was real. No attempt to stick to the rules, and refrain from striking up a conversation with a stranger in a railway station. She was completely without artifice, and yet was not being aggressive or indeed impolite.

She said something else, which I didn't catch, and then offered me her hand. I shook it and wished her all the best and told her to look after herself. She smiled, and wandered away.

I wonder who she is? Where did she go? What happened to her? And I feel a bit sad; ships that pass in the night and all that. No, it's more than just that, but I can't put it into words - at the moment.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPk8jYiyhtU

Friday, October 10, 2014

'Somewhere the sun is shining...'

**********************************

...And it's here! In this small corner of a small land on a small planet.

I went for my dance lesson last night. It was strenuous but exhilarating. It makes a change for me - I spend so much time in my own head.

It's a question of balance... so they say. But if you are always balanced you never go anywhere. When you take a step you are off balance... you take another step to regain your balance, and you're off balance again. And this way you move forward.

A perfectly balanced person goes nowhere.

And I want to go somewhere. I'm not sure where, yet, but I know I don't want to stay in one place.

I'm moving now - to get my breakfast.


Thursday, October 09, 2014

Education

****************************

In the corner of the schoolyard
Stood a tree -
What kind of tree
(Class, type, make, model)
Was of no concern to me -
It was just a tree.
Then I learned about trees
And so was able
To give this tree
A label,
But the label washed off
In the rain, and now
It's just a tree
Again.

Great news on the economic front

**********************************

A British shipyard has won the contract to build a state-of-the-art nuclear submarine for the Latvian Navy.

Actually, all the bits will be made in Taiwan but it will be assembled over here. The contract is expected to provide jobs for 700 men (and possibly a few women).

It will also help to boost the tourist industry, since trials will be conducted on Loch Ness during the summer months. The government would not comment on the rumour that the submarine will also have a good look for 'Nessy', the Loch's famous 'monster', while down there.

All lies!

But I was thinking this morning that, if we really want to put an end to war, would it not be a good idea to stop making armaments? Of course I realise that this is a naive view.

A vast industry exists to build and sell weapons of war, and I don't expect you could you can close it down, just like that. Also, I suppose it could be said that a country needs weapons to protect itself. But how does selling weapons to another country protect your own nation?

Don't be silly, George, it's all about money - you know that.

I will pause here to make my breakfast.

By the way, I miss her, you know... Anna

Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Doors


If the doors of perception were cleansed
everything will appear to man as it is, infinite.
[William Blake]

Are there some questions you can't answer, some places you can't get to with logic and reasoning -
but only with metaphor and parable?

We only experience a tiny slice of reality because, as Bergson and C D Broad suggested (and later, Huxley agreed) the brain operates as a vast reducing valve "shutting out most of what we should otherwise perceive or remember at any moment, and leaving only that very small and special selection which is likely to be practically useful." [see Storming Heaven: LSD and the American Dream by Jay Stevens].

But the pressure from the unconscious mind causes a leakage of this valve and "As Mind at Large seeps past the no longer watertight valve, all kinds of biologically useless things start to happen. In some cases there may be extra-sensory perceptions.  Other persons discover a world of visionary beauty. To others again is revealed the glory, the infinite value and meaningfulness of naked existence..." 

Perhaps a long ride on the motorbike is called for.



Tuesday, October 07, 2014

And all the while the rain it was a' raining

*************************

Another grisly, grey morning.
Well what can you expect! It's not the bleedin' Bahamas is it. It's October in England.
Yeah, well, all the same... it's depressing.

The clock on the wall strikes nine. On the East Coast of America it's 4am.
And in Moscow it's probably Thursday.

Whatever happened to the 'Flat Earth Society'? Well, we may not have a flat earth but we have a Flat Universe. I was reading about it last night. The mathematics are quite complicated but it seems they have reconciled the results obtained by weighing galaxies with quantum mechanics - and of the three hypotheses previously posited, Flat Universe wins, hands down.

Hands up who wants a Flat Universe! Well you've got one!

But what's that got to do with the price of fish? You ask. How does that affect me and my life?
Work that one out for yourself, mate. I've got enough on my plate.

I'm reading 'To the Lighthouse' - Virginia Woolf could sure knock out a good story when she put her mind to it. Nothing much happens in terms of 'action' but everything happens in terms of human relationships, what goes on in people's heads, that sort of thing.

I look through the window. The rain seems to have stopped, for the moment, but the sky is still grey and ominous. How can a sky be ominous? Or reassuring? Or anything else for that matter. 'Ominous' is just my interpretation of my sky 'experience'.

It's time I got my breakfast.

Monday, October 06, 2014

Rumours

**********************************

I awake to find the life of a family is in my hands. I was told this by an organisation called 'Samaritans Purse'.
I don't know this family. They live somewhere in Africa. But I feel the need to do something about it.

I always feel compelled to give something, to any cause that I am made aware of - even online.
 I just hope Al Qaeda doesn't ask me to sponsor a suicide bomber!

Talking of ISIS (which we weren't, although some folk think they are the same as AQ - which they're not): there is no truth in the rumour that ISIS is bringing out a book: The Qu'ran for Dummies: a wake-up call for the rest of you.

I think people who spread such rumours should have a fatwa stuck on them. (or is that another religion?).

But I am bringing out a book. I think it is time my poems were made available to a wider audience. I shall probably have to publish them myself so am looking for a good self-publisher. Any ideas?

Sunday luncheon was taken at McDonalds - and very enjoyable it was too. This was followed by a walk around the island and the feeding of swans and various assorted fowl of the air.

Today it rains. A sodden suburbia.  But are we downhearted? Well, are we...? A resounding No!

We are off the meet the day - head on!

Sunday, October 05, 2014

Mother Alcohol

******************************

Oh, Mother Alcohol,
Clasp me to your boozy bosom
On this dark and lonely night;
Soften edges, blur the details -
Tell me it will be alright.

A special kind of guy.

************************

It takes a special kind of guy to pick up a knife and saw a man's head off.

You need more than a faith or a cause to do that. Although a 'faith' or a 'cause' is a convenient peg for the psychopath to hang his hat on.

It seems we all need something bigger than ourselves to make life meaningful. Alright then - how about Love!

And that is probably what the head-chopper-off needs too.

So pity the poor old psychopath,
He's doing what he can
With what he's been given and what he's learned
 - Try and understand the man.

But don't let him get away with it -
That just makes life a farce -
Try and teach him the error of his ways -
With perhaps a swift boot up the arse.

Saturday, October 04, 2014

There are more questions than answers

*************************

We are always being asked to respect people's religion. You don't hear anyone being asked to respect a person's secularism.

I wonder why that is.

Anyway, night falls on this part of the globe. We think of darkness as a thing in itself, but it's just the absence of light. Ah, but could you say that light is just the absence of darkness? Probably not, because you can measure the speed of light but you can't measure the speed of darkness. Well, not so far as I know.

But we are now in the realms of the metaphysical. A dangerously fascinating place to be, but perhaps not at this time of night.

Although, I think that living dangerously is the only way to live. My brother, Hector, says he lives on the edge - a serrated edge at that!

There is so much sorrow, misery, pain and loneliness in the world, I often feel sorry for the human race. On the other hand, there is  happiness, joy and love too. So best to just get on with - and try and see the funny side of things.

In his haste to cut and paste,
He cut when he should have pasted;
The screen went blank,
His poor heart sank -
Another morning wasted.

But never mind, it's only words,
When all is said and done;
Our wonderful brain
Can find them again -
And there's more where they came from.


Does my dog know it's Saturday?

*******************

There is an old joke: Two hippopotamuses basking in the mud. One says to the other -
I keep thinking it's Thursday.

Today is 'Saturday', humanly speaking, but does it matter? It's raining - but does that matter either?

By the way - I haven't got a dog - or a hippopotamus.

Friday, October 03, 2014

School days are the ghastliest days of your life.

************************

I look out the window. Leonie walks past, her long blonde hair ripples in waves with each step.

I have the television on. It's called multi tasking.

I had another dance lesson yesterday. It was strenuous but enjoyable; tango, cha, cha, waltz. I only trod on my partner's toes once. Well, I didn't tread on it, I sort of nudged it with my foot. She said she was ok. There was no blood.


I think it was Robert Morley who said he'd only go back to his old school with a machine gun and an armoured platoon.

I know how he feels

The Disappearing Beetle

She plonked the plate down in front of me. Oh, joy, salad again. I say salad: there were two curling leaves of limp lettuce (that very green sort that looks like a dock leaf), a chunk of raw carrot, a couple of slices of beetroot, a bruised half a tomato (perhaps someone else got the best half) and something green and shiny, that might have been cucumber. Oh, and a slab of greasy yellow stuff, I took to be cheese.

Takin my knife, I gingerly lifted one of the lettuce leaves. And there it was. Horrified, I dropped the knife and sat bolt upright.  ‘What’s up?’ from Rimmer on my left.
‘A beetle. There’s a beetle in my salad!’ I cried.
‘Well don’t shout, they’ll all want one.’ This was Smith across the table.
‘It’s not funny, Smith’
‘Is it dead?’ Enquired  Aspinall, on my right.
‘Well it’s not moving’.
‘Perhaps it’s just stunned’ said Rimmer.
‘Just stunned!’ I shouted at him. ‘I don’t want a beetle – dead or just stunned’.
 ‘Complain – I would’ ,chimed in Wilson, two places up from me.
There was now quite a bit of excitement down our end of the long table as I passed the plate round for examination, and it attracted the attention of the teacher on dinner duty : A Miss Chaffeur, as I recall.  Teachers doing dinner duty still wore their gown, and Miss C, with hers billowing out behind,  rushed up. ‘What’s all this noise?’ she demanded.
Everyone fell silent. ‘Er, there’s a beetle in my salad, Miss’ I faltered.
‘Don’t be ridiculous’ She snatched up my plate and held it close to her thick spectacles. ‘Nonsense’.
But she took the plate away.
‘Hey – she just took your dinner. I wouldn’t have that,’ Wilson again, now that she was safely out of earshot.
Everyone was looking at me. I didn’t know what to do. This was the first term of my first year at Ashfield Grammar School, and I was completely out of my depth.
But before I could think of anything to do or say, Miss C was back. Once again the plate was plonked down in front of me – so hard the lettuce rattled. ‘There was no beetle in that salad.’ She glared at me. I looked at the plate.  The  beetle had disappeared.

‘But…’ I protested, looking around at my new friends, waiting for one of them to back me up. I was dumbfounded. ‘… you all saw…’ my voice tailed off in the thick silence.
‘Now get that dinner eaten and let’s hear no more about an imaginary beetle. I know your sort – you’re a trouble maker. Well, I‘ll have my eye on you from now on’. She stalked off.
I couldn’t eat the salad (it looked like the same one she’d taken away, minus the beetle).
Smith and Wilson divided it between them.
It took me a long time before I complained again – but when I did it ended up with me leaving that school.




Thursday, October 02, 2014

Conversation in a pub

*************************

'Reincarnation!' he said

'Come again?' I said

'Exactly' he said

'What do you mean?' I said

'Well, stands to reason, dunnit. There's only so much stuff in the world... matter, atoms... all that stuff must just get recycled. Obvious.' he said

'You mean when we die we all go to that great recycling plant in the sky?' I said.

'I suppose you could say that.' he said

Just then the barmaid came up.

'You two gents want another drink? Only he don't like customers standing at the bar with empty glasses.'

'That's a poor attitude towards one's clientele.' I said. 'No wonder this pub's always empty.'

'Well don't tell me - I'm only the bleedin' barmaid.' she said.

'What do you think about reincarnation, Phyllis.' He said.

'Well, I know the concept has been embedded in Hindu religion and culture for a more than a thousand years, and it does act as a force for social cohesion. I mean the caste system, which allows for the progression to a higher social status in the next life, depending upon one's conduct or behaviour in this life. It does, of course, have its critics, particularly here in the West, where we see it as a form of social control.
I, myself, tend towards this view.

'Two pints of lager'. he said. 'And have one yourself.

-----------------------------------------------

I like pubs. I suppose you call them bars in America.

They are places anyone can go - you don't have to be a member - and you can feel among friends, even if you don't speak to anybody.

More on this later.