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Showing posts from 2012

‘Soft Day Thank God’ and the Biggest Urban Myth of Our Generation

To wax lyrical on the relative awesomeness of yesteryear whilst decrying all that is modern is a popular pastime for the silver haired folk who hark back to these halcyon times albeit through a clouded lens that hardly bears up to scrutiny. Indeed it is unlikely that the word awesome is found in their vocabulary! It’s an Urban Myth.  The idyllic past inhabited by genial souls behind pristine picket fences who collectively interact in a pre Facebook form of connectivity is the stuff of romantic novelists. Child labour, civil rights abuse, cultural insensitivity, profound poverty and an expectation that an attack on your tribe should earn you a conscription to bear arms-axe, bayonet or something equally blood curling, as you defend your own in face to face mortal combat –all seem less appetizing in hindsight! Which brings me to a topic that seems rather trivial in comparison. Despite the aforementioned Urban Myth – I would suggest that some of the glue that

New Years Resolutions: Hopes, Aspirations, Intentions and Delusions!

Festive excess traditionally induces post hangover guilt and thoughts of new beginnings. The guilt creeps up slowly. Anticipation of party time frolicking with the requisite alcoholic gay abandon of youth abounds…. alas the capacity of youth to recover over a grease laden fry up of black pudding and anything else in the vicinity within 3 months of the used by date, diminish alarmingly post 30’s! Hope kicks in first. Hope that the hangover will be gentle. Hope that the scales will somehow deny the visual evidence around the gut. Hope that this year things will be better. Hope however rarely provides the appetite to actually take action, beyond perhaps the purchase of a Lotto ticket! Aspiration has a little more depth. It suggests a vague sense of commitment to a cause if perhaps lacking in a plan. Occasionally the post hangover conviction produces a tsunami of emotional triggers, ranging from disgust at what the mirror reveals, self loathing as the memories o