A Few Titbits and Trump's True Words.

Lately I keep trying to think of something to write to this blog in order to keep it going but I keep drawing a blank - largely, I think, because my frustration with the human animal is reaching the point where I’m almost welcoming the prospect of being able to say ‘stop the world, I want to get off.’

I could write about the disturbing, almost total, dearth of bees and butterflies in the garden this summer, even on warm, dry, sunny days when their favourite nectar-bearing flowers are in full bloom. I could write about meeting little Nell in the lane yesterday evening, and of talking at length to the male half of her human hosts. He told me that a friend of his has moved to the US and prefers it there. (I didn’t argue.) I could recount how I washed and polished the Lady Clio (my latest wheels) this afternoon. It took me 2½ hours and wore me out, but she’s now spick and sparkly and a credit to the world of motor cars. I could mention the fact that I still haven’t heard the song of a blackbird or robin this year, and the belief in some quarters that birds act as messengers from the universe.

But why bother making the effort to write more than a short paragraph to cover all such minor matters when you’re tired and waiting for the world to stop?

One thing that did amuse me briefly this morning, however, was reading something Trump said to his tribe of admiring simians at some gathering or other. He referred to the shooting incident and said ‘I shouldn’t be here.’ I do believe it’s the first intelligent comment he’s probably ever uttered. Yes, I do realise he was merely milking the martyrdom cow, but it was pleasant to appreciate the irony for a few minutes.