We live in a political world Wisdom is thrown into jail It rots in a cell misguided as hell Leaving no one to pick up the trail. We live in a political world Where mercy walks the plank Life is in mirrors, death disappears Up the steps into the nearest bank. We live in a political world Courage is a thing of the past The houses are haunted, children aren’t wanted Your next day could be your last .

These are indeed strange times for me & The Boss. Strange and difficult in many ways.

I am not often too serious in my thoughts to everybody but at this moment we are encountering hard times for a number of our good friends. I don’t wish to look back, indeed Him Indoors is a bit obsessive about the not looking back. He always tells me that the past is over, its gone and it can’t be changed. But he adds that the past in many ways makes us what we are today. So its all a bit hard when we have good friends, people who helped him through his darkest days with Chris, who are struck down to fight both similar battles as Chris and different but equally serious battles. There are several of these folks at the moment, and I am very aware that Him Indoors is feeling for them.

I guess I’m saying that when the people who helped to get you through have to walk the same road, then they become the most important thing that you have to consider, all other seemingly important things are pushed into the background and at this point in the journey of life these friends are all that matter.

I have noticed all this from my position upon my settee. He is constantly on the phone, or texting in his attempts to establish how our friends are doing. Now I am not saying I am being relegated to an also-ran, far from it, but it is apparent that often his attention is focused elsewhere.

I can assure everybody it is not focused on a couple of current events.

The first is Brexit. I have rarely heard anyone be so incandescent with rage with our two main political parties. I hear a lot of politics, from the pavement, as I am often in pubs. (Him Indoors will deny this fact, be clear). But this allows me to absorb a variety of views. The Boss told me at the very beginning of it all that he couldn’t care less what the vote was because the money and the power brokers would actually decide what happened. It was a myth that the people decided!!

He labored the point that he had dealings with EU for three years in his career. He is not a fan!! Some of the nicest things he says about them are that they hate the British because we are so independent, EU is a corrupt organisation, they have never been audited, are insular not global, highly protectionist and their protectionism makes poorer countries even poorer.

Then, of course, he starts on the Leavers who he reckons never expected to win and therefore had no idea how we could survive outside the EU! Going into negotiations without a plan he doesn’t consider to be a very clever strategy.

His rage at the two political parties has been apparent ever since the referendum, considering that both their stances are dedicated not to the country but to their individual parties in cheap attempts to score political points.

The second current event was when we sat together on my settee to watch that chap Trump trying to appear interested when those brave school children from Florida shooting came to see him. Him Indoors commented that Trump reminded him of many of the failed salesmen he encountered through his career, twisting in the wind and saying any words that he thought might suit the moment in order to improve his own image. He is of the opinion that Trump is genuinely evil, full of cunning in all that he does in order that he can maximize his business interests whilst abusing his position.

In amongst all this political stuff we have had some very cold weather arrive. Not much snow yet here in my corner of life, but cold enough that I do not hang about when I go outside. Normally my rather shiny, luxuriant, much praised coat sees me ok but, jeez, it’s like I’m some naked beast with this wind cutting through me. The Boss doesn’t understand that I’m running off in front to get home, not to escape from him. I’m a centrally heated Dylan Dog!

 

Stay warm!

 

Woof! Woof!


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