On a Dolorous Day and the Colour of Boots.

Today began with an email informing me of the death of my ex’s brother from myeloma. It set the tone for a gloomy day replete with leaden skies, a cool airflow, and a damp, dispiriting atmosphere.

The afternoon was an even more dispiriting tale of dysfunction and frustration as I tried to get answers to a couple of simple queries, first from a pensions provider and then from a retailer from whom I have ordered something online. Both endeavours failed miserably, and it struck me that we in Britain are saddled with a government intent upon pursuing its fixation with the illusion of economic growth while being oblivious to the fact that the matrix is cracking badly down here at grass roots level. It might be apposite to remark that ‘modern systems suck’ (and I just did, so there you are.) I think it might have something to do with the fact that our Prime Minister is a millionaire who learned his economics in America.

On a lighter note, I find myself suddenly possessed of a desire to wear stylish shoes. I don’t know where it’s come from, but I do remember having a pair of tan Cuban heel boots when I was about fifteen. I recall how good I felt in them – so much more elevated in the pecking order, you might say. Then again, you might not, but I also recall having a second pair which were similar in style but black. They didn’t have the same effect at all, and I never could work out why.