Owning up

Well, Anna, what can I say?

My old Squadron Leader used to tell us 'Never complain, never explain.' (Although I think it might have helped at his Court Marshall if he'd been a little more forthcoming about the missing aviation fuel). 

I would, however, like to say a bit of something about my whereabouts - and conditon - over the past few weeks.

 Whereabouts is easy: I have been here. In body, at least

Condition? Well, not so good. I don't like labels, so I won't attach a label to what I have been suffering from... experiencing...over these past couple of months, but it has been real - and unpleasant. And physical as well as mental. At any rate it stopped me from doing much: writing or anything else. And it doesn't help one's relationships. So, attach your own label. 

Anyway, I have been feeling much better - let's see how it goes,

But how are you? And that jackanapes with whom you currently reside? Did he get selected as the Labour Party candidate? If so, what is your present relationship to him?

I am not as politically naive as he thinks I am. I once went on a week's cruise up the Nile, so I have a good grasp of the Middle East situation. Joke - but it isn't funny, what's going on there at the moment. It is the ordinary people who catch it - like in all wars. The folk who just want to be left alone to get on with their lives.


Anyway I have a throbbing head, and so cannot be sorting out that fermenting cauldron of tribal and religious conflict, at this moment.

I will leave you with this poem what I just wrote:

It’s never too late

(all you need is Love)

Turn off  the  Life Support,  mother,

Our Willie is ready to go;

Just let him finish

This pint of Guinness

And have a last fumble with Flo.

Oh look – he’s got an erection!

Take your hand off that switch, doctor-man –

He’s going to pull through –

Look what love can do –

We’ll cancel that funeral plan.

Write soon, Anna

George