The Solstice and the First Day of Summer are now in the bag, the garden’s looking half decent, so everything should be rosy from here on in. What do you mean, over-optimistic? Okay, so the president of the united states (all lower case intentionally) has a new best mate who is the most hated despot on the planet and he has embarked on an almost blow-by-blow copy of how the third reich conducted themselves in the thirties. Our own country has flushed itself down the shitter and is poised to squirt hot, liquid diarrhoea after it just to make sure we make the biggest mess possible. And I have a very poorly foot. But all that doesn’t mean that the sun won’t shine. We have to be positive
My Website is live once again after a gap of a few years (time passes, you know?) and that space is full of writing stuff and excerpts from novels and contains none of the bullshit that I moan about constantly on here. I am solely responsible for the look of the site so all the distasteful colours and inappropriate positioning are all down to me. I love the careful manipulation of words and phrases but, when it comes to colour, I’m like a drunk in a paint shop.
So we had around half a million (Met Police estimate) people in London marching on parliament in protest of the turd that can never be polished. Who would have thought that the country could be split so precisely in half by an idea? Clearly Cameron didn’t. Although, it’s not entirely his fault despite the fact that he did it. It’s like blaming the naughty child for smashing the neighbour’s greenhouse glass. It’s not really the naughty child’s fault, it’s the fault of whoever is enabling the child to be naughty. In Cameron’s case it was Cleggy. And I don’t mean the one from Holmefirth. I mean the stupid bastard who put Cameron in government in the first place. If it wasn’t for the posh pratt from Sheffield then there never would have been a Brexit vote in the first place. And now, irony upon irony, Clegg is pushing to have it stopped. I might agree with him but he at least needs to acknowledge that it’s his fault that it’s happening.
Did I mention My Website?
With the way the world seems to be moving, it feels particularly appropriate that we are half way through the second series of The Handmaids Tale. There have been various postulations regarding the source of our reality including that we are all part of a grand, scripted, experiment. If that is so, then I think that they are following the work of Margaret Atwood and Bruce Miller almost to the letter: the sudden upsurge of the religious right, a social pecking order that makes 1984 look fair, the objectification of women and the monetisation of children. We usually watch TV series in one or two sittings, waiting for them all to air so that we are not having to wait a week in between. With this piece of work, it’s almost a blessing that we have to wait a week in between. To watch the whole thing in one go would probably result in the need for some sort of institutionalisation in order to recover from the ordeal. I spend the entire episode flip-flopping between devastatingly upset and violently angry. The knowledge that the episode watched the previous night will almost definitely be reflected in the days real news doesn’t help one bit.
But enough of all that, it’s summer! The forecast is excellent for the next couple of weeks so we can sit outside and soak up the rays and soak up the gin and watch the sun go down and pretend that everything is okay in the world (or oaky if your tipple happens to be whisky). Gone are the grey skies and miserable moods and wishing for time to pass. We can relax and let the day wash over us and enjoy the life that we all think we deserve. Turn off all alarms, cancel all appointments, put off everything that can be put off and those things that can’t… put them off, too. Put yourself first and work on your soul, your karma, your yin and yang, your gin and tonic. Listen to the bees and the birds and listen to that droning antique aircraft that passes overhead every few days all through the summer months. Download an mp3 of a hand lawnmower and listen to those blades tick as they are pushed lazily across a perfect lawn. Give yourself some time and work on your mental health and get yourself into a healthy place and stay there. Forget about work and bills and commitments and MOTs and overdrafts and loan repayments. Don’t even think about those no-deal nutters and certainly don’t even give a thought to that evil orange baby across the pond…
Bugger, I’ve done it again. I tried to learn relaxation and meditation and putting myself into a happy place as I controlled my breathing and heartbeat. I had proper training as well from an eastern meditation teacher (well, my mate’s brother in law). He knew what he was on about though. And it all started as a way to deal with a nasty skin condition I had a decade or so ago. It was all very positive. All very convincing. And what’s more, it all seemed fairly simple. Just happy thoughts and positive thinking and following a path to happiness and comfort rather then dwelling on the negative (as I was doing) and the more you do it the more normal it all becomes and slowly you become a better and happier person as you leave all this negativity behind you. I embraced it as a possible cure for all my ills (realistically, too, as they are mostly mentally based). The only problem I had, and it was a big problem, was that I simply can’t help picking the scab of things. As soon as I started to feel even slightly relaxed I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to take a quick peek into the misery cabinet to see if it was still in there. And, of course, it always was. There’s probably a technique for dealing with this, too, but I’ve never found it.
I ought, perhaps, at this point, mention My Website before it slips my mind.
Seriously though, I’ve missed knowing that it was out there, sitting there and waiting for the unsuspecting to stumble across it and discover the hidden gems within. It used to be hosted by a friend of mine who is still a friend of mine but, due to certain circumstances, extending the favour of hosting my stuff for free became less than ideal. He would have been perfectly happy to continue, I’m sure, but it wasn’t entirely fair on other parties, if you get my drift. (I’m almost certain you don’t) Anyway, as I sat here the other day, nursing my lame left foot, with nothing to do other than bugger about on the internet while keeping myself topped up with codeine, I decided to take the plunge and pay for a proper hosting site. Although it wasn’t the hardest thing in the world to do, I managed to make a meal of it and almost certainly recovered my cost by the amount of time I spent with ‘live chat’, explaining how I thought I knew what I was doing and that I didn’t think that just deleting a folder would be quite so devastating. They were very polite but it took me three days to do what I’m fairly certain should have taken only an hour at most.
Anyway, all done now so, thank you for reading my blog and I highly recommend that you go and take a look at My Website. You might not be disappointed.