I was wondering today what the effects are of detachment from one’s homeland. I am, perhaps, a useless subject on the matter because I have been adrift upon the European continent since I was but a twinkle in my father’s eye, who himself lived the life of a wandering agricultural salesman, of the plough and the planter alike. A life of a cock, and of a bull. While I feel the constant pressure of losing out on friendships that, frankly, have not been so easy to acquire, I also fear the loss of myself that will render me unrecognisable. I can honestly say that minds work differently in different parts of Europe. And this is not only evident in language. The social rules are different, and the unwritten rules are different too.
So it’s day two (I’ll give up the day counting tomorrow, perhaps instead needlessly referring to the date as a matter of urgency like intergalactic Avon lady, Captain Kirk.)
The internet is down. THE INTERNET IS DOWN. Less pressingly, there is a power cut, so I may have to molotov cocktail some potatoes for dinner (if you are insane and want to try this, don’t forget to foil wrap first.)
I have just ‘put’ the kids ‘to bed’, quotes highlighting the irony of this statement given that upon closing the door they spring out of their beds and start hopping about like miniature clowns. In any case, I wish them pleasant dreaming, no matter how lucid. I am having the genius dream at the moment, in which I come up with an inspired and earth-shattering idea, only to wake up with a vague sense of the idea being something to do with… whatever it was – beans, or god, or whatever. The genius dream is reminding me that I know nothing. Continue reading