7 Jul 2012
Disappointments have been creeping in. Stealing quietly through the cracks and taking up residence. Under my skin.
The chicken is a bit boring. The tea tastes ordinary. Will the sun ever bloody shine this winter? Can we have a decent political debate in this country? The work’s a bit too hard. The washing never ends. My god it is cold. Could I really be sick again? Really?
Even though I have tried to foster insouciance, cultivate it, nurture it; it won’t come.