So what's on TV? Nothing in particular.
Look forward to nothing save Game of Thrones, Fargo or the slowly diminishing Modern Family clones.
I must find some meaning, some significance beyond the archway of flashing coloured lights and slowly growing, groaning sounds.
More wine, more Mediterranean, more oil and fish and looking out of the window or talking pish.
More whittling and turning, more sitting in the chair and squirming. Less politics and votes and grabbing others by their rasping throats.
I don't change opinions, not with my bad leg and the war and the things that might be affected a little more like the economy and houses and prices and choices.
Who ever knew? Things were so connected when the government go itself selected. If you can call it that.
Those who believe what they want to believe, who avoid any facts or attitudes to relax or review or chew things over in an informed way, well maybe some day.
More lyrics and pies, more repairs and sincerely meant attempts and tries and filling the space behind my eyes with dodges, bodges and curmudgeonly fudging the things I'm been loving or inadvertently hurting.
So here comes the dust and the groans and the rust, the smoke alarm reminders and the email dividers and the updates and the tweets but at least I know of a comfy seat, somewhere.
Somewhere.
