Somebody from The Shire said to me a few days ago: ‘We’re
lucky to have you here.’
Now why on earth would anybody say such a thing? I make no
contribution to this community whatsoever. When I’m not attending to my own affairs,
what do I do? I tramp the lanes; I talk to the cows, the sheep, the trees, and
occasionally the humans, and sing the few songs I know to the little people
just in case they’re listening. That’s about it.
And how is one supposed to react to somebody saying that? If
you ask the obvious question – why? – it might be taken as fishing. If you say
nothing it might be taken as acceptance and indicative of egoism. In the event,
I pretended I hadn’t heard, which wasn’t so difficult since the person was
sitting on a horse at the time.
I expect I’ll go to the Hallowe’en bonfire on Saturday.
Fancy dress is invited, but I’m not into that kind of thing. Shabby dress,
maybe… I wonder whether I could persuade one of my bat friends to sit on my
shoulder and stare at people.
4 comments:
"When I’m not attending to my own affairs, what do I do? I tramp the lanes; I talk to the cows, the sheep, the trees, and occasionally the humans, and sing the few songs I know to the little people just in case they’re listening."
Sounds like a good contribution to me, taking care to acknowledge all those who live there, and doing good for the little people.
But that's how precious people like you see it, Andrea. The locals are probably glad they've got a proper village idiot at last.
It seems like it's really difficult for you to take in something someone says good about you, Jeff! There's a lot of criteria that makes for a good community and just because you may not see yourself this way, doesn't mean you aren't. Enjoy the praise or however you want to call it. I doubt you'll ever be too full of yourself.
You're right of course, Wendy, but I still don't understand what anybody could see in me that's worth having. I really don't, not unless they like having a scruffy oddball to counterpoint the professional people and farm labourers.
I was very full of myself as a child, a teenager and a twenty-something. It was when I hit thirty that I started to see the light. Ever downhill since then!
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