Reflections on a Sunday evening.

Some men with chainsaws have been cutting down trees in the grounds. I like trees. They take so long to grow, and in minutes technology razes them to the ground.
Why do they do this? Ah well, they say, the roots undermine the buildings. I don’t believe that is the reason. Some people just like to demolish things. It looks neat.

I took a picture of myself, on the motorbike which I intend to ride round South America (or somewhere else) and I wanted to post it on here. No success. I have not got the ‘picture icon’ in the toolbar, which they talk about in ‘Help’. I have tried downloading ‘Picasso’ – it downloads then seems to disappear (can’t find any icon). Surely it cannot be that difficult to post a picture. I did it once, some time ago, but it has disappeared. Maybe it is me, and my overheated brain. Maybe I need a new computer, a new life.

It is 10pm on Easter Sunday evening. The film ‘Chocolat’ (Mr Gates has drawn a red line under that word. He thinks I have spelled it wrong) is on television. I have tried to watch it but I cannot hear the soundtrack properly. The higher frequencies. It’s the old hearing-holes, you know. So frustrating for a man in the prime of life.

I don’t drink alcohol any more. Well a glass of wine with a meal, and I miss the buzz it used to give me. What is there to do in the evening? Sex? I think I have got out of the habit. Where are you now, Anastasia? Carol? And even old ‘thingy’ down the Jolly Pervert?

What? Amanda? Well, you can’t call that proper, wholesome sex, can you. To tell you the truth, I think she is using me. That is why she wants to keep me here. All that stuff about people not existing. Oh they exist all right. I am not going mad. I have requested an interview with Freddie and if that does not get anywhere I will formally ask for a review by independent tribunal.

I must finish now. It is ‘lights out’. Here comes Greta with her big bunch of keys dangling from that wide black belt she wears. So tight, it is. I said to Kenny the other day... sorry she is insisting I stop typing. Such a dominant woman.