Taking Refuge in Animals.

I’m having difficulty finding something to say again.

I could talk about my attempt today to get a simple answer to a simple question from a government department and an energy supplier. I could relate how, having gone around and around in circles and still failed to get the answer, I gave up in a state of frustration bordering on despair. I could ask how we have come to such a low point of service and functionality, mostly lacking any semblance of simple sense, in a country with such a highly educated population. But such a state is becoming the norm and I’m tired of writing long posts that whinge pointlessly. I also feel a little guilty about having given the man from the government department a lecture couched in angry and agitated terms. It really isn’t his fault that bachelors degrees don’t (as far as I’m aware) include a module on how to be rational, helpful and efficient in real life situations.

Instead, I could talk about having just watched the film The Page Turner (or La Tourneuse de Pages en Francais.) It’s a superb French film and much recommended if you like slow moving but beautifully crafted psychological thrillers. Everything about it, especially the acting performances, is exemplary – except for one thing: the point of it all. It’s about belated revenge, and I just don’t understand belated revenge. In fact, I don’t understand the need for revenge at all, except as a heat-of-the moment, knee jerk reaction. I can sting like a prodded scorpion, but plotting is completely alien to me.

So how about the fact that today I was reminded again that those who argue a point rationally and convincingly often get called ‘stupid’ by people with minds that would pass easily through the eye of a needle? That would be favourite since I like irony, but there’s really nothing more to say on the matter.

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I’m tempted to write that short story I mentioned some years ago, about the lion that was frightened of its own reflection and his befriending of a streetwise goat. If ever I do, I’ll post it here. I stroked a cow’s nose today. She was young and pretty, and I couldn’t possibly countenance stroking the nose of a young and pretty human female, now could I?