The Dark Passenger is being rather vocal at the moment. My decision to deal with the current situation by letting things lie is giving him plenty of scope to come up with all manner of unhelpful thoughts.
I’m giving him as good as I’m getting, but the chap is just so very inventive. Last night he had the brilliant idea of putting a song in my head, and now I just can’t stop humming, whistling or singing it.
What is more annoying, is that it’s probably one of my favourite songs, and very, very well known.
Remember this? …
Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
“Fools”, said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls”
And whispered in the sounds of silence
If things don’t improve, I may have to arrange an appointment to see Cecilia, though on second thoughts, remembering her lyrics, I can’t see it helping much. Back to the chanting me thinks.
Sometimes, problems, or as we like to call them, challenges, seem to just keep on coming, one after another after another. With two deaths, as well as other problems associated with dementia in the family happening in the past few weeks, it’s been all too easy for us to start to wonder ‘What on earth have we done to deserve all this?’
Leaving the works PC in a dishevelled state last night was not good for my peace of mind. But my fears of being left with an unusable machine for a week while Dan ‘the man’ went off to Barcelona on holiday proved to be unfounded.
Well here we are again folks, another week older and deeper in debt, or so a poor paraphrase of the song would go. Another day spent in Newbury has taken us a lot closer to completing the repair of Fraser’s and me a day nearer to getting my Bumble back.
Officially, today was Tuesday, but in computer speak it was actually Monday++. With the extra day off, the weekend just meant that the pile of work waiting for me when I got into the office this morning was 50% bigger than a normal Monday, and you know how I feel about them. So it was all hands on deck and the day passed without a break, ironically at break-neck speed.
Where is all this rain coming from? Apparently, it is officially the wettest drought on record, and looking out of the cottage window this morning it’s not surprising. The raindrops are hammering on the windows, powered on by a blustery north wind.
Well it’s taken a whole week to get here, but finally Friday has arrived again. I know what you are saying, you were going to fill every minute, of every day, with sixty seconds of gainful employment, and I have. But doing that doesn’t stop me being pleased that, arguably, the best day of the week has put in a much appreciated appearance at last.
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