Pointless
We all spend our lives now trying not to become data points on a graph.
poetry
Lifting veils
The process of ageing is one of lifting the veils, one by one, that hide the number of stupid people in the world, until you see clearly the horror, then you die.
Excavations
Fragments of time just keep emerging from my brain like finds from archaeo- logical digs brought to the surface for study. I turn them over in my mind’s eye but they seem to form no pattern, no clues to a lost dark age.
Point of view
I hate the sound of a rabbit, at night, screaming in the jaws of a fox. But I can’t hear the fox cubs crying with hunger.
Losers
The sign at the Supermarket checkout proudly said “new winners every day”, which is a much better deal than we all get at the Life checkout.
Dustbin
I am as certain of the non-existence of a god as I am of the non-existence of mermaids, werewolves, goblins, yowies, easter bunnies, pixies, bunyips, jack frost, unicorns, yetis, tooth fairies, minotaur, leprechauns, father xmas, nessie, gorgons, poltergeists, dragons, aliens, and ghosts.
Payment due
Writing a memoir is a life’s work. It has to be earned by the lines of your face, the wrinkles of your hands, the night fears of your sleep, the weariness of your brain, the failing of your body, and finished just in time.
Happy to see you
The Choughs are back doing some gardening for me, and the sight of their ungainly walk and their happy family warms the cockles of my cold winter heart.
Falling down
Once I saw on the ground under trees blue fragments of a small egg. But were they from an egg that fell or one that had hatched? I didn’t know just what I should feel.
Survivor
Old age is being dropped into a jungle by parachute and trying to survive using only your wits.