Post Christmas Blues...

The decorations are down, the seed trays ready for off and the house seems to be breathing out a sigh of satisfaction after a job well done.

I love Christmas, but that is because I don't perform all the mandatory rituals that used be expected like eating trifle and watching television until one became blue in the face.
Some people feel unhappy after all the celebrations and work kicks in again. Housewives, if they have any sense, don't feel let down. As members of the voluntary workforce they can choose when and how to get on with chores, (or not do them if they are not in the mood), put life before the curse of seeming to reach their potential or achieve targets and generally enjoy themselves.

If people think that housewives are stupid or unable to get a "proper" job, this is one way of working out if these critics would make boring company (the usually do), are misogynistic or workaholic or just plain silly.

There is a grotesque proposition that people on this island should be frog-marched to "work". This is such an 19th century way of thinking. Bill Nighy was on radio recently explaining about how auditions kill the spirit. "They sense the desperation", he said (or something like that).
Housewives... or for the more PC mind, "domestic engineers" hope never to have to meet "them".

And if there's any tint of blue here today it's because it's difficult to type while wearing gloves...

Ca m'est Egal

The title here has reminded me of all the rules and regulation governing the placement of accents in French.

Not on capital letters, ever, if memory serves. But since the last time I checked was in the 1980's I'm not going to stand over this.

Friends, who are always quick with good ideas that could leave one spent, tired and cross in the extreme, have sometimes thought I might like to write here in French.
Not a good idea, given all the blasted accents that pepper the written language and which will probably, in time, lead to its demise. Greek is a much prettier prospect, to my eye, at least, since they changed the rules in relation to accents, but since my little Greek is shrinking yearly and since I have no intention of going to Greece, chances are slim of much being put into print in that language in the near future.

People do not like difficulty and challenge, if they are any way ordinary, as I am. The annoyance of reaching my potential would probably kill me off years before nature has intended and all the stressed moan-bags who continue to haunt the Irish airwaves are probably being handsomely paid for their efforts as they praise the fearful newfangled activity, entrepreneurship.

It seems that this country is bankrupt. Since there's not any chance I can do anything about it, élan vital will have to suffice.
Potential, in any case, can only be measured by performance. Performing one's socks off to an empty audience is not much fun...