I want to give the news a miss. The world will keep on spinning, even as I bury myself in a book. The deliciousness of being buried in words. Perhaps you are not curious about what I am reading. It certainly is not the old playbook of a Groundhog Day – endlessly looping through our lives. Loop, loop. It’s strange how there is an endlessness to it all in a fixed kind of way. Endlessly fixed. How odd. There is nothing to commend it, even to the House. Everywhere there is bluster and hot air, a criminal brinkmanship, talk of delays, day old chicks getting priority. Lorry parks coming out of our ears. I am imagining the lorry drivers in their cabs, the rising anger. Windscreens of breath, the air blue. Clogged endlessly everywhere – the fixed positions taken – until one day – ah, yes, the joy of one day – it will have an ending.
The House reference is the House of Commons