I know it does me absolutely no credit, but I currently seem to be afloat in a sea of lassitude.  I am the sunburned prat bobbing about a mile out to sea on an inflatable unicorn.  I am the Lifeguard’s darkest nightmare; adrift at the whim of every breeze.  When I am shepherded in directions I don’t want to go, ‘persuaded’ to do things I don’t want to do, I no longer stamp my little feet (actually size 8 – perfectly normal for someone of my size I’d say) and shout ‘No!’  I don’t even plead for time to allow consideration.  My spirit is now the watered-down stuff they put in All-Inclusive cocktails.  I no longer rouse myself to suggest a moment’s contemplation on the sheer folly of it all.  “Whatever” is what I say: I bow to the inevitable and steel myself to do whatever must be done.  That it might (in my eyes) be completely the wrong course of action is immaterial.  Things, these days, seldom reach my ears until they are a fait accompli.  They have been pre-decided elsewhere.  Objections, I have discovered, can delay, but never prevent.  “Whatever,” I say, and await instructions.

First thing in the morning schemes are the worst.  I know how my mind works overnight.  It is unhinged.  It seldom reaches conclusions that could, in any way, be considered rational.  My overnight cogitations are suitable only for one fate – they must be quashed before they have the opportunity to precipitate unrest.  My own nocturnally generated plans remain locked between my ears.

With the flow is where I go these days.  I follow all the safety information: I lay on my back like a starfish (do starfish even have a back?), relax to the best of my ability – which, in water, is extremely limited – and hope that I am carried to safety.  I sink, even in sea water.  I think I have a lead-lined soul.  Now I know what you are thinking, and I do accept that the fault is all mine, but I have found myself at the pointed end of such schemes for many years.  I have always dealt with them in the same way: I succumb to the sanest, transitorily voicing my reservations, seldom loud enough to precipitate change – the deleterious effects of which might be dumped at my door – and object only to the patently potty and those that would challenge the resources of a small nation.

Now I say “Whatever…” and hope that the law of natural attrition – which I believe I have just invented – will apply: that the holes in the cold light of day filter might be small enough to let through only the most plausible of plans.

And don’t get me wrong here: I do get things done – admittedly often in the grip of a monumental huff – and plans do come to fruition.  When things work, it is generally because of, in my opinion, the modifications I have air-dropped into them; when they do not it is generally because I told you so!  It should be obvious to any even vaguely sane person that the humps in the road can be seriously smoothed out by just getting on with stuff, knowing that the impractical will fall, like ambition, by the wayside, whilst the practical will get well and truly done, by me, to the very best of my extremely meagre capabilities.  It is the way that things now go.

You live, you learn.  Whatever…

Free to be whatever you
Whatever you say, if it comes my way, it’s alright… Whatever – Oasis (Noel Gallagher)

I wrote this on the third of August and, to the best of my knowledge, published it shortly afterwards.  As far as I can see I did not do so.  It has remained in my little ‘to be published’ file ever since and, for no better reason than it gets it out of there, I have posted it today.  Whatever…