Tastes.

My mind has been going round and round for the last two days, pondering the question ‘why do I so love animals and growing things, but have such difficulty with human beings?’ and coming up with the same answer:

Given the chance, animals and plants achieve their potential without exception. Human beings almost invariably don’t.

And I think it should go without saying that I’m talking higher mind here, not relatively insignificant things like winning an Olympic medal, inventing the smart phone, or conquering the world.

Meanwhile, I’m getting the urge more and more often to walk the lanes of the Shire in a gown with a voluminous cowl. Something like this, only in black:

 

I wonder whether anybody would notice.

I’m also getting a craving for bamboo shoots again. And foreign cigarettes that smell like old socks. And a piece of Baked Alaska with a dollop of Cornish clotted cream. And to be the Emperor of China, for whom the very best dancing girls perform with no expectation of reward other than my approbation (as a kid I was much more into mediaeval mandarins than cowboys with bulging barrels.)

*  *  *

Last night I watched a most pretentious video in which a man claimed that cats are superior to all other animals because they live in a constant state of Zen mind. I thought of commenting: ‘How do you know?’ and ‘Being a Taoist, I prefer dogs.’ I didn’t bother.

*  *  *

And I want to wake up in the darkest hour before dawn and see this vision looking back at me:

And I want a comment below which says:

My name is Ms Renfield and I look exactly like that. I will happily assume the requisite position, and I will dance for you, and I will bake for you a Baked Alaska, and all I ask in return is that you allow me to eat your houseflies. (I would have to decline, of course.)

It's getting late and I'm getting sillier. I'm missing the priestess. Bye.