This is the empty part of the day when I should be writing blog
posts. The problem is that I’ve been experiencing a sense of inner conflict
ever since I watched a documentary earlier about the Falklands War, this year
being the thirtieth anniversary.
There’s something about the subject of war that shakes me
up. All the forces of higher consciousness tell me that war is a hideous and
unforgivable business, beyond which the human race should have moved by now.
And so I truly believe – absolutely. And yet somewhere deep inside is a
primeval instinct that remains fascinated by the idea of playing a game for the
ultimate stakes. It seems the warrior mentality isn’t quite dead yet, and I
suppose that’s what the politicians rely on when they send young men off to
butcher and be butchered.
* * *
To take my mind off it, I think I’ll write an e-mail to
Sarah. Tomorrow is her birthday, you see, and so I’ll write it now but send it after
she’s gone to bed. That’ll be like playing Santa Claus, won’t it? That’s much
nicer. And I do hope their chimney’s been swept.
2 comments:
How am I ever going to sleep now jeff! Very exciting!! Y y
Well, that's the problem with Santa, isn't it? They tell you he won't come if you don't go to sleep, but the fact that he's coming makes you too excited. Bloody grown ups! They really shouldn't be running this world, you know.
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