Major and Minor Complaints.

I’m too serious at the moment. I dislike being this serious. It’s what happens when there’s a real or imagined enemy camped just over the hill, if not actually battering the door. The kid I love so much takes shelter while the boring grown up concentrates on keeping his weapons sharp. I hate it, but there you are.

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I’m sick and tired of the flashy car adverts on my Hotmail home page. Cars flashing in and out, cars driving in and out, cars jumping up and down. They’re nearly all ‘prestige’ cars, but not quite. There’s one ad showing a bird electing to crap on a nondescript little blue car because it isn’t a shiny red Seat. Hateful. Pathetic. Who the hell is taken in by this rubbish? Why can’t I just retire into the mists and wander among the apple groves?

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The waning gibbous is the oddest, sickly shade of yellow tonight. ‘Jaundiced’ is the word that springs to mind. Like me.