Monday, 16 March 2015

Musing on Hiatus.

If you’re not feeling communicative there’s no point in trying to force communication. Sometimes you just want to withdraw and live in your own head for a while. There’s nothing wrong with that, but some people just don’t get it.

You know the type: those uncomprehending half-wits who decide that you’re being unreasonably glum and it’s their duty to cheer you up. And so they grin excessively and inanely; they chivvy you with petty imprecations; they unwittingly pile misery onto your melancholy; and when you finally snap and become very stern with them, they call you a miserable bastard and walk away in disgust.

Worst of all are those people who tickle children. I remember it well. They thought tickling me would bring me out of myself, would cheer me up. Well, it did bring me out of myself, but it didn’t cheer me up. It caused me to scream bloody blue murder at them and try to tear their freggin’ fingers off! Eventually they would give up, presumably concluding that Jeffrey is a very strange child. It’s my earliest recollection of realising what an abject pile of shite an awful lot of adult humans are.

(I love the fact that Word doesn’t recognise the word ‘shite.’ It’s a good word, and probably of Irish origin. ‘Gobshite’ has a different slant, but that’s a good word too. So should I add them to the dictionary? Don’t think so. I think I’d prefer that they remain a little subversive.)

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And on the subject of adult humans being an abject pile of shite (wiggle wiggle) I was reminded yesterday of something my daughter said around ten years ago. She claimed that child sex abuse is rampant in the hidden underbelly of British society, and she would be very careful about what sort of institutional activities she would allow her children to engage with. She came by this knowledge from her own experience of an inner city school, and from what she’d picked up from the word on the street. People told her she was just being paranoid, as people do.

Yesterday, the British Home Secretary, Theresa May, made an announcement. She said it was becoming evident that child sex abuse is endemic in the British Establishment, and that the hundreds of allegations currently being investigated by the probes into historic abuse will prove to be only the tip of an iceberg.

I somehow doubt that only the British Establishment is so afflicted. Why would it be? But at least our law enforcement agencies are all part of a homogenous body controlled by one government department. I wonder whether national probes into historic abuse would be practicable under a federal system. It could be the saving of some very guilty people.

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To conclude on a happy note: One of the great pleasures in life is to sit by an open fire on a dark winter’s night with a cryptic crossword.

1 Across: Look to what’s inside in order to feel satisfied. (7)

Got it?

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