Revelations.

It’s odd to think of the things we sometimes feel compelled to do. Sitting listening to YouTube late at night, I feel the odd compulsion to trace my eye sockets with my fingers and imagine what they would look like with the flesh removed. The eye sockets are so much bigger than the eyes, you see. And then I get a yen to be buried rather than cremated after I’m dead, in order that my skull should become exposed and maybe some little vole will build a nest therein (I’d prefer to avoid either process any earlier than that.)

And today I was listening to a Dolores Keane album in the car when a lively Irish reel suddenly filled the vehicle with positive vibes. I’d never quite realised before just how much a lively Irish reel can lift the jaded mood, and so I turned the volume up so the whole of Uttoxeter might revel in the spirit of my forefathers (on the male side, that is. The female side has a dominant Welsh component, and Welshmen are wont to gather in groups and sing familiar harmonies with great gusto and not a little self-possession. It doesn’t have quite the same effect.)