Those of you who drop by from time to time will be aware that this is not so much a bitch about Brittany, more a complaint about the country (the green place, not the place that has flags and goes to war).
I realise that this could well stem from the innate hostility of the inanimate objects around me. For some reason I seem to be more at their mercy out here than I ever was in the city. If the woodstove was alive, and I suspect it might be, or at least might harbour some evil entity, I would have murdered it by now. I am pleased to see, sort of, that Darling d has not only inherited her father’s bag leaving gene, but has also started to develop a relationship with the scooter which is very reminiscent of mine with the woodstove. Of course, she might be suffering from fall out, and the scooter might really be out to get me instead, since every time it lets her down at the last minute and refuses to start, I have to stop what I am doing and rush her to school at the last minute. So far this week this has made me late for my music lesson with my autists and this morning involved me abandoning my breakfast and driving to town in my pyjamas and her in tears.
Having just finished reading Dawkins God Delusion, I can quite see why primitive peoples might want to worship these objects and try to placate them. But this is not the way. Don’t give in to them. I’m going to get that wood stove one of these days…
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