After a recent frost, rosemary flowers support the melting crystals.
In Calverley Grounds, the largest of two parks, close to the centre of Tunbridge Wells, I pass a young woman, pushing a pram towards me. She is smiling, not at me, as I momentarily imagine, but at the supine and, I guess, very small occupant of the pram. It is the secret, possessive smile of a new mother.
As I read in the today's paper about the present level of debt ,which future tax payers may be expected still to be accounting for in 2020, I tell myself selfishly, but with little regret, that it is almost certainly no business of mine to be indignant about.
1 comment:
I too have been reflecting on these distant dates with their
accumulated weight of national debt. Were I to discuss the topic with our newest grandchild, Zach, now 2½, I'm sure I'd be accused of septuagenarian smugness.
But there is another side to this. Having just read Lucy's Saved Nut 2(A wide-ranging piece on churches and religion) I have come away with a sense of atheistic liberation but sensible, nevertheless, that atheism is a bet with associated odds. Thus I am more inclined towards the shorter odds bet on a vindictive OT Yahweh than the much longer odds on a "who-loves-ya-baby" beneficent deity. And Yahweh would certainly see the fun in extending our lives into senescent incompetence just so we could experience a shrivelled existence under a debt mountain. Too many adjectives I fear.
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