Upon the goading of my peers I have been prompted to publish more ramblings. It has been a hellish couple of months and I am quite sorry of neglected the past-time of ranting about my concerns for the tattered globe we dwell on.
O.K. now a distinct sensation of being doomed has set in. I am happily ignoring the calls from my school and family, although knowing that such folly will be my undoing in the coming weeks.
This though is not my immediate sense of trepidation. Nor is the fact I just went for a shower and my water proof radio (christmas 2003) was playing a documentary about Robert Johnson. Just tuning in, I was rewarded with a full and very emblematic description of him dying of a poisoning, barking like a dog. Supposedly the hounds of hell coming to collect the soul he owed the devil. No even this was not that disconcerting!
It is odd. A gut feeling, though more likely something in the air; I'm not in Malaysia, so it isn't cancer. It might be some resonance to seeing 300 (ish, i'm no journalist) people being hauled off a soontobefireball aircraft, a weirdly heartening sight. In future I will pay more attention to plastic backed panic cards!Or fly less!
The damndest and possibly the most predictable thing just happened. I was catching a train at London bridge out towards Deptford. Too tired to even consider keeping my eyes in focus, on an evening I use journeys like this in the working week to read as much as possible. I take a seat on a sweltering southbound connex train. Lo and behold I am joined by a man and a woman and there pet dog.
The couple were elderly but far further gone in senility than there age would demand. The woman, yellow haired and wrapped in pink over coat making the small concession of rolling her sleeves up a little on what must have been the coldest day of the year, spent the ten minutes we shared balancing her personal financial affairs with startling feats mental acrobatics. The man balding with glasses in a pair of four stripe jogging bottoms and equally enshrouded in overcoats, this time with badge after badge of holiday locations in the British Isles, such sunny climbs as: Wales, Lowestoft, Suffolk, Harwich, Whitby and Llandudno.
The man chattered incessantly without being of any particular use to the yellow haired accountant, after a while recognising he wasn't being listened to, thought it better to feed the dog, Roy, coca cola from his finger. As I got up to leave the woman started to get panicky and begun to remonstrate with Roy. "Sit down! We have paid for the seat!". This was all a bit much for me and I have not been able to read since.
This has been an all round negative transmission, but fear not, I think I just need some chocolate! And some hitchcock!
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