Anyone who only thrives on fun, games and the world being the hilarious place you claim it to be please go away now and watch the news instead.
Earlier, as promised over at Con’s, I went out. I am, always have been, an ardent believer in the powers of “walking”. Walking clears you mind, helps you memorise facts, fiction and poetry. That wonderful time when you stride or slink or stop every two seconds to admire something on the way, or have your nose and eyes up in the sky till you find yourself falling into that little excuse of a river you had forgotten about? Take my word for it: It’s good. Even when it’s bad.
This afternoon was BAD in a bad way. Have realised something about myself which I will NOT “share” this minute with anyone until my son comes home. He knows good news when he sees them in my eyes. It’s so embarrassing I might have to take my findings to my grave. That’s why you should never trust autobiographies: They are heavily edited. And biographies are next to useless – even if I say so myself since I love reading them – because I know, for a fact, that should anyone ever attempt mine, they will know little of what really went on in my head. It’ll be pure fiction. Speculation. Psycho rubbish conjecture babble.
Veering off the original subject: Parks.
To cut to the chase: I managed to make a mega arse of myself. Don’t smirk. Think back to the last time you did if you can remember it, and if you ever; the latter unlikely since most of you have managed to give me impression of being the upright wonderful human beings without a flaw to the every fibre you are (that does not include the guy who makes nuisance calls to Lady Con at 5 in the morning – maybe it’s Lord Con testing the waters. Worse ruses have been applied. Should you be interested I will re-tell a centuries old Italian novella in which a couple tested their being faithful to each other in a macabre and rather roundabout way. Let’s just say: Don’t. You’ll regret it; particularly if you are the man.)
Fresh air and movement – in the fancyful words of that detestable yet to be admired O’Hara woman as played by Vivien Leigh: Tomorrow is another day. Let’s hope it’s one during which I can mend my ways.
U
PS Have unearthed more material on punctuation. Magpie must have hung up his cloak since he is unexpectedly quiet on the subject. What I have found out is that in English “Doppelpunkt” (that’s Conrad) is ‘colon’. Which makes zero sense: It’s points – two of them. Double. On top of each other. Like a high rise building. Anyway this will keep since, whilst the fork ran away with the spoon, an apostrophe is unlikely to leave this country and its language’s delightful intricacies. Mwah
