I Spy With My Little Eye...

 I spy with my little eye...something beginning with P. Hmmm...Polling Station? No, that is so last Thursday. Everyone who could be bothered to vote went out to vote. What's the saying? People get the kind of government they deserve. How very true: we're not just led by a buffoon, a cheating, lying, pretentious ***ker (fill in the blanks: rhymes with banker). He's a total Prat. And there's the P I had in mind. The fact is: they're all as dishonest, all as crooked, all as pretentious, all as incompetent as each other. There's nobody worth voting for: they all suck.

So that's my rant of the day. In the nearly six weeks since I last wrote, I've only done what was absolutely necessary. I spent most of the time lying on the heating pad, taking painkillers and feeling very sorry for myself. But-the fractured coccyx seems to have used that time to heal (pretty much). So it's back to resuming life as I knew it before. And that was pretty dull, considering the two years we've all had to endure. 

I realize that my personality has done a total flip in these two years-and that's an understatement. I've become both depressed and angry-even more so than before. It seems like I'm not the only person who has undergone a personality change. Go outside and see how brutally people treat each other. Were they this bad before the lockdown? Are people just stupid, nasty, rude, basically brain-dead? It does seem that is the case. Add ignorant, obnoxious, obtuse, manipulative, and a few other descriptive words that I won't even bother to write down. Now, after all these years of calling the Brits (and 99.9% of the rest of the people who make this dump their home) all of the above, I have to (sadly) admit that I was right. I'm not one of them; I'm here because some incompetent idiots nearly killed me, and I can't now go home because I'm unemployable. Who wants to hire someone who falls over a lot? 

So there you are. I need to pull myself together, and work out how I'm going to thrive. I've survived, but I haven't thrived. It's been twelve years, and to get to this point, to not only survive, but to fight my way back, well-that's been a miracle. I refuse to roll over and quit. The fat lady hasn't sung yet. 

I've resisted going on Twitter and naming names. Boy, have I got some names! But I'm not sure. And the best thing to do when I'm depressed and angry-is nothing. Wait. Go have a coffee. Wait some more. 

That's my cue: Starbucks!