I know that I have written on this subject before as I want none of my loyal readers to think that their Major has lost the plot as it were, but we must begin to cheer up and put a little jump into our step. We have become I am afraid too dependent on the great nanny of government rather than the loving arms of our families which are after all designed to nurture and forgive us all our trespasses etc.
I am jumping around a bit I know but can one imagine living in London during the 17th century where one got a ringside seat to the bloodiest civil war in English history, followed by regicide, “warts and all” Cromwell, and 10 years of the depressing commonwealth. However that century was just warming up for it was visited no fewer than five times by our friend, the Black Death . 7000 London fatalities a week in 1665 with many unfortunates being boarded up alive in their hovels to stop the spread of the rat flea named Xenopsylla Cheopis.

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I think I am as open-minded as the next chap who holds himself to five martinis a day and likes his roast beef well done, but cats on our bed during the night would try the patience of a saint. I could see St. Francis of Assisi preparing to turn in his saint ribbon if some follower did not remove said cats from his wooden pallet forthwith.

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I always smile when I hear about people who have moved to a subdivision at the end of an airport runway because it is less expensive and then complain to government about the noise. The same goes for those who move to a “wonderful house” beside an animal rendering plant and then are shocked, shocked by the unseemly odours.
But I do not begrudge the outraged neighbours their dismay about the squalor of Victoria’s infamous Tent City. They did not sign on for this eyesore, and it is not fair.

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My routine requires me to leap from my bed of pain and do health-giving exercises before my litre of orange juice. Perhaps “leap” is not the appropriate term at my time of life. If I am honest, it is not unlike a ball of pyjamas falling onto the bedroom floor. But let the record read that at least I make an effort.

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The thing about the club that I most enjoy is the chance to wallow in contemplation.

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