In this thrusting, immediate world, you have to get your grouse in as soon as possible. Why wait for more topical moments to vent your spleen when you can do it all now.
I don’t often find myself in the same camp with the Repulsive Religionists of the Ridiculous Right but I feel the need for all right (in the right sense) people to come to the aid of the party, so to speak. It is time for us to march against the tide of clichés and do something forthright and, uh, right.
I speak, of course, of the luridly coloured garbage filling the shelves of supermarkets up and down the country; the latest attempt by the shameless followers of Adam Smith to wrench yet more money out of our depleted pockets. The tons of stuff: plastic, cardboard, wood, cloth, more plastic and sugar which is the merchandising construct of the presentation to this benighted country of the absurd Yankee take on Halloween.
I have to admit, as I made my way along the coast road in Cardiff, I couldn’t help admiring the vast, blossoming and burgeoning fields of swelling pumpkins ready to be harvested so that delightful and fun loving hordes of grasping, avaricious Thatcherite throwbacks can weald them as part of their shameless protection racket which masquerades under the deeply sinister title of ‘Trick or Treat.’
What is this all about? We have no bloody fields of pumpkins! I thought that we were an independent country with a great cultural tradition, not a slavish imitator of a country that thinks it is cool to . . . well; insert your own particular piece of American nonsense to make yourself even more indignant.
At least in America you have the guns so that you can shoot the little buggers before they start their extortion.
Every aspect of life is covered by some tatty, overpriced piece of rubbish. I pity parents (often) but they will be assailed constantly by their free roving DNA banks so buy more and more so that their offspring will be able to disport themselves like some sort of Gothic overstatement that even Vincent Price would baulk at joining.
I think that their unthinking portrayal of witches and warlocks and things that go bump in the night is an insensitive mockery of the religion which was old in this country when Christianity was still waiting for Paul to get the spin right so that unsuspecting gentiles would buy into it. I’d love to see the Druids and New Ageists combining forces and declaring jihad on anyone wandering about on All Saints Night dressed as a calculated affront to their fondly held beliefs. It could be like St Bartholomew’s Eve all over again. A Halloween to remember.
I loathe the whole idea of the night in its Pagan, Christian and Capitalist glory. A vile import which should stay in the country that espouses . . . I’m losing my clarity in an excess of hatred. This is not good and it must stop. Now! Take a breath. Better? Better!
Today has not been good. Neither of the people who viewed the house on Saturday has taken the process further. One wanted a house for renting and this one was not the sort of thing that he wanted, while the second was buying a house for herself and her mother and she wanted separate rooms on the ground floor. I fail to see why, after a cursory view of the specifications of the house people come to look at it, when it is quite clearly not what they are wanting.
Talking of specifications: one of the good things which came out of the viewings was that they told us that they were surprised about the size of the living room as the specs gave the size as 12 foot: only 13 foot out! I think this is one mistake too far; perhaps I should change the agents for the third time.
Tomorrow is ‘sign on’ day. I’m not quite sure why I am doing this as there does not seem to be any pay off, as it were. Still, it will be an interesting experience.
Tomorrow evening a concert that is going to centre on the Nielsen Flute Concerto in a live programme which also has a presenter using the orchestra to illustrate aspects of the music, with a full performance at the conclusion. Something to look forward to!
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