Mother of all Rambles.

You know, the previous post could have been a lot longer. When I’m out walking the lanes at night, I get these little germs (which isn’t a typo) of observation, and they grow into long discourses, and I decide to make a post about them when I get back.

But who wants to read long philosophical discourses from somebody who isn’t even a philosopher? Bigger minds than mine have had a go at philosophy, and still all they’ve come up with is Yet Another Theory. So instead, I try to distil it down to something short, just for the sake of having something to write. I suppose that makes me the philosophical equivalent of a poet or a glass of gin.

Be glad you’re not accompanying me on a night walk down the lane. You’d probably get a long discourse from a strange being huddled inside a tattered coat and a woolly hat. You’d get bored, and probably faint or something. You might even feint a faint, just to shut me up.

It’s still snowing out there, and this is only the showery phase. The big stuff is coming to bury us tomorrow. And here’s a ditty from the swamp creature. I don’t see him very often, thankfully.

I met a lady from Peru

And, being polite, said ‘how d’you do.’

‘Front, back or side,’

She said with pride.

‘Just any way you want me to.’

Turned out she was a hairdresser.

So much of life is about perception rather than reality, you know. And talking of life, guess who I might be having a conversation with this weekend, for the first time in two years. A star in the west, that’s who.