I’ve been clumsy for days. Standing up and half falling over as my spastic feet forget their spastic selves. Standing and dropping back in one un-graceful movement. Taking a step and tripping over. Fumbling with buttons and catches and all little things. Even my hair has been uncooperative and slip-slidey in a most aggravating way. Before I could leave the house today I pinned on and then dropped a broach twice, I nearly fell over my feet in the kitchen; I dropped the keys at the door and fumbled with the locks. I think I managed to bathe and breakfast but my mind was otherwise occupied. I woke up thinking of the economic structure of the Wombles. Yes, those Wombles. I was very concerned about one in particular as he seemed a bit of a dope-smoking slacker and then I became altogether too concerned about rubbish and keeping Wimbledon common in order. I don’t even like Wombles. They’re puppets, you see, I’ve never been very keen on believing the actions of something that’s clearly lacking a brain. That might explain some of my antipathy towards George Dubya.
Speaking of antipathy, the little man holds out for another term – I’m sure I’ll raise a finger in salute. Or perhaps I’ll raise a hand to the lord ‘oh why hast thou forsaken us? oh yes, that’s right, the unending stream of cock-ups’. I ponder atheism and suddenly see the light; I really ought to pay the electric before it goes out and while I’m still allowed it. And I wonder where I’ll go and what I’ll be when I’m no longer welcome here for it is surely only a matter of time. A joke once, of idealistic internment, of being sent back to the place of one’s birth – how I lose out there. Isn’t it awful when you know you ought to fight but the flight instinct is greater. There’s nothing more you can do here, play your mind tricks on me and see how eager I am to bite to believe to do whatever and see how much I’m lying and how long I can go on lying. Maybe for a day it’ll be okay. The expected news still feels like a slap in the face. How’s that for self delusion? I’m in the atheists bind – I can pray to no-one for an early release. Even my words are clumsy now.