Another day, another day of mowing down innocent people in the street. Do you remember when we all thought 2016 was a terrible year and we all wished it was over? Be careful what you wish for as my old mother used to say. Life is full of terrible fires and people sleeping in sports halls and being told they can’t bring their puppies with them or they’ll have to share a bed with their mother – or their puppy AND their mother. Because basically it’s their fault for being poor and spoiling the view. Nothing new to add really. My head is all over the place. I think it’s the weather. I am very ranty. I’m not that keen in joining in the current national obsession with trying to make the Prime Minister cry in public but I am struggling a bit at the moment. (Can you tell?)
While we are at it, even as a Labour type person, if I see Jeremy Corbyn at one more event grabbing the mike and milking the applause I will go bonkers. He went down well at Glastonbury. What did he expect to happen? Well-meaning, middle class politician smiles and waves at hundreds of very drunk, well meaning middle class people on their weekend off. Off course he went down well. Get on with your work! Also John McDonnell. I do not want a Day of Rage. I do not want to shout in the faces of policemen who two weeks ago were running at knife brandishing maniacs to protect us. I am not going to take to the streets to insist that this government leaves. You could think about doing better next time. Go away and do better. Work on actually getting voted in – like we do in a democracy. Think about reaching the percentage of the British Public who are terrified at the thought of voting for you.
Even the telly is depressing. I’m not bothering with The Handmaid’s Tale because I read the (very brilliant) book and I am not sure if I can cope with actually seeing the things that happen in it occur in front of my actual eyes if you see what I mean.
Then Brian Cant died – which I took more personally than was strictly necessary. Also found out my friend who I haven’t seen for a while has had one of “those” diagnoses. Also have you ever done that thing when you pull your neck and your shoulder without actually moving. Do you see what I mean? This is why I am a miserable crow at the moment.
So what does a troubled soul need at a time like this? A bit of poetry – the poetry of God. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Psalm 40
There you go