All Building Is Rebuilding…

Sometimes your own tiny tragedies are thrown into sharp relief when compared to the ones other people experience. At this point I would like to state that I have stopped having everyday tragedies such as the car breaking down or the roof springing a number of leaks. No, I have just stopped thinking about them as tragedies. There just…well they are just whatever they are. I’m getting a wee philosophical as I am preparing to spend part of the day doing the dreaded S word, SUPPLY. And it’s at a pretty ropey institute as well. The school is part of the general wheel of fortune that insists on bringing me back to places that I thought I had long since left. Oops!

So I have the T word and the S word and they are both playing the parts of gods from Ancient Greece who choose to set up little travails for the even smaller humans whose purpose is to provide entertainment through suffering. Anyway, in the form of rebellion, I am putting two fingers in their general direction as I have five magpies sitting on our garden tree. I think it’s supposed to signify silver. By the end of the day, I will be a rich man. The gods are probably wetting their pants at the sucker who thinks it will all turn out right.

But anyway, as I was saying before the long arm of digression took control, my little tragedies are nothing compared to others that people have to endure. I have a friend. He has reached the magical age of somewhere in his fifties. As all men now realise, this decade represents change. No matter what we do, how hard we train, how much healthier our lifestyle becomes, how much more sanguine we appear, how it doesn’t really matter if we are around or not around, and how so very little we resemble a radiator (nobody notices them when they enter a room), we still suffer.

Like all of us who are licky enough to survive, he attempts to keep some vestige of his younger self. He still cycles, has just finished a building project, and seemed to have reached they part of his life when things start to pay off. Unfortunately, the house that he has completed has been knocked back for lacking sufficient planning permission. The upshot is that he will have to demolish part of it. The profit that he thought he would make will now be eaten up by the rebuild.

I thank the Lord that my endeavours centre around putting words on pages.

All writing is rewriting.

Ernest Hemingway

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