I used to think I would never again know fear the same way that I did when I attended Mr. Kilter’s third form poetry class. Ye gods, he was a cruel man and child hater, an uninhibited Scotsman who tortured us by insisting that Robert Burns must be learned and recited on command. I am not sure if any of my loyal readers had to endure anything like that but if you did not, then fortune smiled upon you.
I had just settled myself deep into my green wingback by the bay window for a post- prandial martini the other day at the club (the Home of homes) when a fellow mem hove into sight and plunked himself down.
Politically Correctness. Ok, ok, I know I should not be writing something titled PC as somehow this will cost me a friend or two, but after all this guff about politically correctness, somebody has to say something. And here it is: Not every culture deserves our respect. In fact a great number of them are poisonous.
Have you ever noticed that the more one dislikes someone, the more they want to be familiar?
We never know what this trip and fall life holds for us, or what snake in the bed is even now curling around our toes. A few weeks ago the club put on one of those dratted soirees where everyone is expected to show up as a sign of solidarity.
Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén