A Striking Society
There is a bus strike in Dublin at the moment.
It doesn't affect my life as, once breakfast is over I can work at the domestic
coalface until the cows come home.
"There is a lot of anger out there", however, as our media boffins are delighted
to report daily. The thought that I would have to spend an hour at a bus stop would,
I have to admit, make me very cross indeed. However, the new philosophy that has hit the island where everybody is encouraged to "share the pain" has left me puzzled.
Gardeners are often mildly discombobulated, being attacked from time to time by nettles, rose branches, over territorial insects and the odd unhappy dog bounding
out of the undergrowth. The thought that one might actually invite pain and wish
to share it seems very odd indeed.
We are not, after all, masochists, I hope...
It doesn't affect my life as, once breakfast is over I can work at the domestic
coalface until the cows come home.
"There is a lot of anger out there", however, as our media boffins are delighted
to report daily. The thought that I would have to spend an hour at a bus stop would,
I have to admit, make me very cross indeed. However, the new philosophy that has hit the island where everybody is encouraged to "share the pain" has left me puzzled.
Gardeners are often mildly discombobulated, being attacked from time to time by nettles, rose branches, over territorial insects and the odd unhappy dog bounding
out of the undergrowth. The thought that one might actually invite pain and wish
to share it seems very odd indeed.
We are not, after all, masochists, I hope...
posted by Tales from the Birch Wood. at
17:50
2 Comments:
Somehow, "sharing" in all this ... well, aren't we already? I mean, we're already sharing our future tax dollars....
;)
I feel fortunate to live within walking distance of everything.
Money apart, there is a lot of moaning going on.
Not my style...
As for walking, getting daily to the kitchen sink on foot is no strain at all.
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