Slightly Discombobulated

It has been a funny few weeks since New Year, but interesting as well. We have been necessarily a bit distracted by trying to sell my Dad’s house – we finally seem to be getting somewhere it feels, and while I am sad to sell the home in which I grew up in, the alternative is that it sits cold and empty (letting is not really an option) far too far away for me to keep an eye on. So, I would much rather let it become someone else’s home and be warm and full of laughter once more. Aside from the paperwork and stress of that – which the Lovely Wife is an essential aid for me as my head starts to swim when confronted by forms and lists of terms and conditions as the part of my mind that is detail focused throws it hands metaphorically in the air and complains to my dominant big picture brain ‘I don’t get this! Why can’t it be simple?’

I have the same problem with anything to do with tax, but let’s not go there.

Unusually my trips to Brussels for work have started very early (normally they do not get to kick in until February). On the plus side this means getting to travel on nice quiet trains. On the negative, this year in particular it means constant references by continental friends on Brexit, usually with a puzzled expression of ‘what on earth is going on’, my response, usually to be an inappropriate ‘Gallic’ shrug correctly noting that I stopped really trying to predict/work out what was going back in June 2016. I just think that I am prepared to admit it while most of our politicians seem set to posture around spouting nonsense, whichever approach they might propose/pretend they are proposing for their own attempted personal game. Frankly, I’m sick of it, but when people complain about X or Y course will cause some kind of social upheaval… Well, Ladies and Gents, I personally think that that train has already left the station. We are going to have trouble whatever happens now, so we had better get used to it and try to manage it down to at least peaceful protest. Maybe we have gone a bit soft and forget how bad this can get or the power of the mob. I am old enough to remember when the country was beset by riots and it was not that long ago. I am hoping that society has changed enough to avoid that happening now and that we can keep talking without someone throwing petrol bombs, but I am uncomfortably aware of tension increasing. We reap what we sow. And we have been sowing something rotten for some years, now. We may be able to calm things down – indeed we must try, where we can – but I do dread what might be coming.

Still. Some things can make me happy as we continue to bumble towards some sort of divisive end game. A kingfisher in a suburban park – shared with a couple of complete strangers that also spotted a streak of iridescent blue and orange against the gaunt trees (we all agreed it never gets old). A cold, sunny winter day, perfect for a long walk in the country with the Lovely Wife and a chance to discuss the important things. Warm, welcoming pubs with good beer who we can walk into and the people behind the bar do not just smile but are already moving towards the predictable choice of drinks. Examples of good and, very occasionally hilariously bad, parenting behaviours around town. Spending hours discussing the movie you have just seen and finding as much enjoyment in that as in the work itself (‘The Old Man with the Gun’, and ‘Three Identical Strangers’ being two recent cases).

 

And then maybe there is hope itself. I hope that things may turn out as well as is possible at this point and maybe lessons are/will be learned that will make positive changes over the next years.

 

Either that or we’re digging a moat to put the crocodiles in.

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