Postcards From Across the Pond

This is not a political blog.

Though there have been times, in the past, when I have made exceptions to this rule, I am making no such exception now.

It’s not that I’m sticking my head in the sand, or that I expect you to, I just think there are many other pundits out there, spanning the political spectrum, better informed and better placed to pontificate about whatever issue you care to listen to them pontificate about, and I feel no compulsion to add my voice to theirs. Sure, the world, in its burning handbasket, is hurtling toward hell, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still take some time out to sit, have a quiet drink, and tell amusing stories.

And that’s my skillset. I am not a leader. I don’t want to run for District Council (believe it or not, I have been asked). I have no desire to boss people about. I am not equipped to make the world a better place. All I can do is provide temporary sanctuary from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by recounting vignettes of my daily existence that may make you smile. (I know my life isn’t as funny as it used to be, but I do try, honest.)

The state of the world may be tragic, but all people like us can do—all we have ever been able to do—is wake up, get up, show up, and try our best. And, every now and again, have a bit of a laugh. And if, by extracting mirth from the minutia of my day-to-day, I provide some of that humour, then my life is not without meaning, and maintaining this—still the second-longest-running, continuously active, personal blog on the Internet (I really need to find a way to monetize that)—has not been in vain.

So, don’t be afraid to visit, I won’t bring up anything unpleasant. I’ll leave it to others to run around in the inferno screaming, “The house is on fire! The house is on fire!” while we gather in the parlour with a bowl of Doritos and a six-pack to tell amusing anecdotes.

Did you hear the one about the time I needed new shoelaces, but the clerk …