Things are starting to happen. With alarming speed. And I am sure that I do not understand them all.
One thing I do not understand is journalism. My daughter Annabel is a journalist. with the Daily Mail. She is presently travelling, and writing absolutely brilliant pieces on her blog. Her latest How I nearly got murdered in Mozambique and A strange maritime experience… two days on a houseboat overlooking the Chobe River are each terrific, even allowing for parental bias. But no one pays to read blogs, so where is the income? We do not need much. But we need something to live on. I am sure there is an answer to this. But I do not know what it is.
Meanwhile in Paris, there have been horrific Islamic fundamentalist attacks, with 130 or so people dead at the last count. Now, the President of France, Francois Hollande, is unwise (like most champagne socialist egomaniacs) but not presumably entirely stupid. So why has he been saying, “We are now at war”? That is exactly what the Islamic fundamentalists want, and exactly what will most fan the flames of more attacks. It would be far smarter to say, “These are just silly adolescents, dangerous and very, very silly, and we will treat these individuals as such “. There is a load of evidence, including the evidence of how the UK eventually coped with the IRA, to the effect that fanning the big-picture flames is counter-productive. He presumably has clever people around him who know this stuff. So why is Hollande doing such a dumb thing? I am sure there is an answer to this. But I do not know what it is.
For that matter, why are some many nations lining up to hurl even more bombs at, well, someone or the other, in the Middle East. Surely, the evidence is overwhelming that this a bad idea. Saddam Hussein was not entirely pleasant, but after hurling a load of bombs at him and eventually killing him we (that is quite a big collective “we”) have ended up with people who are even worse. And in Syria, we really have no very clear idea whether Assad or his enemies (a diverse bunch) is the worse. One thing is for sure: bombing is a bad idea. And not only because it gives the bleeding hearts the leg-up to say, “We caused all this suffering! It is our duty now to invite all their refugees into our countries!” So why are we (that is still the big “we”) doing it?
And underpants. Why do manufacturers of underpants put synthetic, plastic labels in them, with yard-long washing instructions? There are hugely irritating, so we have to cut them off with scissors. Why can they not put cotton labels in? They say it is because plastic labels last longer. Not if so they are so bloody irritating that people have to cut them out, you morons!
Anyway, here in Myponga, uncertainties are more manageable. Where is this ship going?
Don’t know, and don’t really care.
What sort of hawk is this?
What do cattle dream about, when they sleep, if anything?
And what is The Shrimp expecting to find in the dam?
Not mention, of course, many much more personal and tender mysteries, which each of us must try to cope with in private.