I'd never really understood quite what Anne Rice was describing when she attributed the phrase 'the savage garden' to one of her characters, but know I think I'm beginning to understand. It is in essence the idea that nature has no sense of justice or fair play, no ethics or moral code, but rather adheres merely to aesthetic principles and rules.
And I must admit that, thinking about it, it is starting to make sense.
Why else, for instance, could someone like I, who worked his fingers to the bone, who has had career goals for ten to fifteen years and went all out to achieve them, who has sacrificed so much and who is a genuinely sincere and pleasant person, be so unfairly brought screeching to a halt and made to feel so worthless and dejected when other happy-go-lucky scamps who don't deserve even the air they breathe get all the lucky breaks?
That is pretty savage, I suppose. And as for the garden aspect? Simply look around you. All nature has a beauty about it that is sadly lost on us, preoccupied as we are on lust, wealth and materialism.
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Of all the stupid things I've seen...
The absolute worst, the reason arguably why Great Britain isn't really that great any more, took place this morning.
I was standing on one of the platforms at Birmingham New Street Station and someone spilt their coffee. No problem, you might think. But remember, this is Britain in 2008. Within about 15 seconds, four operatives in bright orange flak jackets had turned up and there was absolute pandemonium.
"Don't use this door!" "Keep clear, for the love of God! You could get burnt!" "This door is out of use!" et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. All there was, you understand, was a little bit of warm brown liquid on the floor and suddenly the platform is drawn to a standstill. The black and yellow elfen safety tape was brought out of course and half the platform sealed off until one of the staff had the bravery (even now I don't know how they prepared themselves mentally for the challenge)to go out with a mop and clean it up. They weren't even wearing a Bio/chemical/nuclear hazard suit. Mon dieu.
Now in the good old days of course, ordinary people had the common sense to see the stuff on the floor, keep clear of it and then someone would come along and clean it up, and that would be that. Not now. Ohhhhhh no, not on your nelly.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Britain is now a hopeless case. Everything it seems is dangerous or risky or illegal. And that, my friends, is a crying shame.
I was standing on one of the platforms at Birmingham New Street Station and someone spilt their coffee. No problem, you might think. But remember, this is Britain in 2008. Within about 15 seconds, four operatives in bright orange flak jackets had turned up and there was absolute pandemonium.
"Don't use this door!" "Keep clear, for the love of God! You could get burnt!" "This door is out of use!" et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. All there was, you understand, was a little bit of warm brown liquid on the floor and suddenly the platform is drawn to a standstill. The black and yellow elfen safety tape was brought out of course and half the platform sealed off until one of the staff had the bravery (even now I don't know how they prepared themselves mentally for the challenge)to go out with a mop and clean it up. They weren't even wearing a Bio/chemical/nuclear hazard suit. Mon dieu.
Now in the good old days of course, ordinary people had the common sense to see the stuff on the floor, keep clear of it and then someone would come along and clean it up, and that would be that. Not now. Ohhhhhh no, not on your nelly.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Britain is now a hopeless case. Everything it seems is dangerous or risky or illegal. And that, my friends, is a crying shame.
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