The End of Mary and Oddments.

Seems I got it all wrong. The character I thought was John the Baptist is, in fact, Jesus. Well, that’s mumbling actors and modern movie sound production for you. Or maybe I’m deaf or stupid or both. Nevertheless, having got something so fundamental so wrong, I feel a complete fool and intend to say no more on the subject of Mary Magdalene (2018.) Except, perhaps, to remark that Jesus resembles a cult leader and Mary appears to be a victim of Guru Fetish Syndrome. She does, however, have an exceedingly pretty smile.

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So should I write something about the relationship between health issues and heavy garden work? Can’t be bothered. Suffice it to say that I survived both today. 

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I’m missing my oddball llama friend, and also the sunshine I used to occasionally encounter on my walks. Now I have to make do with the yellow thing which moves across the sky when there are no clouds in the way, as it did at lunchtime when I was in the churchyard eating my spinach sandwich and cheese roll. 

I noticed something odd while I was in there. I saw a headstone marking the grave of a man whose name is given, along with the year of his birth and the year of his death. That’s perfectly normal, but underneath was a second inscription which simply said And also his wife. She isn’t named, and that isn’t normal. I sensed a hint of either sexism or acrimony in the air. 

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If they decide to bury me after I’m dead (and I do hope they wait that long), I should like my headstone to read:

  

Here lies the pupa case of 

JJ Beazley

It's of no consequence whatsoever

The butterfly has flown away

Sounds a bit pretentious, doesn’t it? OK, forget that one. 

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I’m tired of hearing myself think. A piece of this would help: