Being Idle.

The garden is celebrating today. Rain has been falling steadily for several hours, so not only is it getting a welcome drink, it’s also being spared my probably unwelcome attention.

Being kept out of the garden is a bit of a problem to me at the moment. I’ve cleaned up all the house, I have nobody to call and there’s no prospect of anybody calling me until tomorrow, I’ve long been deficient in the matter of attention span so reading is of no interest, I have DVDs to watch but that’s uncomfortable because my eyes get sore if I focus them on one plane for any length of time, I can’t go for a walk because my leg won’t permit it, and I have no accounts work to do until somebody brings me some. I’m at a loose end, and so I think.

The priestess said something to me in her last email which gave me pause for some difficult thought. It made me realise that I’m a fraud, or at least a chameleon which amounts to the same thing. In consequence, I feel that I’m now honour bound to stop corresponding with her. Whether I will or not, I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. Losing the priestess would open up yet another hole in my life, but I’m getting used to holes so it doesn’t bother me as much as it would have done at one time.

And it occurs to me that we are all chameleons, and therefore frauds, to some extent. It seems to be part of the human condition, and it doesn’t take much of a leap in imagination to suggest that the human being is the most fraudulent creature on earth. Maybe that’s why I like animals and children. I like authenticity.

And Boris the Mouth continues to cause me consternation. The unholy alliance of Trump and Johnson appears to be setting Britain on course to become America’s poodle again, which is what Noam Chomsky forecast would happen if we left the EU.

So I decided to make a blog post. This is it. I could go on but I won’t.

There are lots of young robins around this year. They’re cute.