TheBanyanTree: A mouldy banana

[John Bailey]

Tuesday October 7, 2003

A MOULDY BANANA

I have the TV buzzing away in the kitchen, covering the California recall 
election thingummybob, whatever it's called. A strange process this, about 
as obscure to me as American football and the US presidential elections. 
I'm told that it's a good thing, the voice of the people being made 
manifest, evidence of democracy in action.

Well, maybe, maybe not. To me it's yet another confirmation that democracy 
is the worst possible political system, except for the alternatives. Yes, I 
know Churchill said that. He couldn't be wrong all the time. Let's hope the 
new governor won't be wrong all the time, either.

And now we're all going to have to learn to spell Schawr... Schwarzn... 
Whatever. I'll look it up next time I'm online and stick it in my 
dictionary.  Until then I'll have to make do with Arnie.

Here in a rather wet Wales my day was dominated by a visit to the doctor, 
entirely pleasant and satisfactory, and to the local tire fitting station, 
which was grubby and completely lacking in satisfaction. I have some new 
pills, and I've been relieved from having to take the beta blockers, at 
least for the next four weeks until I go back for another review. That 
makes me a happy bunny. The new tire? Well, what can you say about a new 
tire? It's black, it's round, and it cost about three times more than it ought.

Back home Harry was sound asleep on the bed, all curled up and dreaming 
twitchy dreams, of his hunting days I suspect. Dolly was sound asleep on 
the sofa, sprawled out on her back with all four paws firmly in the air. 
There's no telling what Dolly dreams but when she twitches you'd better be 
careful not to get too close just in case she wakes up suddenly. Whatever 
she dreams about makes her a fearsomely wild creature, all teeth and claws 
for a few seconds when she wakes. It is only a few seconds, though, and 
we're all of us entitled to a few seconds of grumpiness when emerging from 
a heavy sleep.

I phoned Graham so we could exchange the news of the day, including the 
long-expected exit of one of our neighbours, leaving their house all empty 
and quiet, waiting for a new set to move in. The upstairs children's 
bedroom window, which has always had a row of soft toy animals peeking out, 
looks bare and sad without them and I can't help but wonder what view 
they'll have from their new window. I hope it's a happy one.

We didn't chat for long, just enough to be assured that all's well at 
either end, the cats and me in our comfy, warm home, and Graham in his 
temporary lodgings on the cliffs, which are reported to be wet, chilly and 
windswept. Strange to think I was sitting on the step there in the sunshine 
a couple of days back, sipping hot instant coffee after my nap and gazing 
out at the sea. I'll make a point of doing much the same when I go back to 
collect him, though I'm informed that the steps make a less than appealing 
seat when it's raining.

And then Dolly and I sat in the kitchen doorway, looking out at the rain, 
all soft, mild and soporific.

"Better than a sleeping pill, this, Dolly," I said.

She yawned at me, mightily.

"Come on then. Last one asleep is a mouldy banana."


--
John Bailey   Carmarthenshire, Wales
journal of a writing man
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>