Sometimes I like to watch the clock. And whenever I do watch the clock I see that it’s 22.22. That tends to freak me out. It’s as though I have this inbuilt ability to just know that it’s 22.22. It’s been going on for countless years now.
I was quite perturbed earlier. There I was, just minding my own business, dilly-dallying along and enjoying having the house to myself, when I read a comment about yesterday’s “currently reading”. Oh my goodness … I was very shocked to realise that I’m so sweet and innocent that “Mr Pink-Whistle Interferes” just seemed like a very cosy and wonderful title for an Enid Blyton book. But it made me wonder about whether or not a children’s book with that title would ever be published as a first edition in the modern day. And then, of course, it made me think of how the lovely Mr Pink-Whistle can make himself invisible and toddle up to children’s bedrooms and cheer them up when they’re feeling down. And sometimes he doesn’t even let their parents see him . And he puts his arms around them, and bullies little boys who have been bullying other little boys. What a diamond geezer! It’s a shame that the world we live in now is governed by a paranoid people who tremble at the high-profile stories in the media and believe them to be a modern phenomenon. What’s happened to being a child and having the opportunity to actually act like one? Everything is so PC these days as well. It annoys the pants off me. Take “Blackboards”. In the late Eighties it was deemed racist to continue calling them that and so teachers and children alike were encouraged to call them “Chalkboards”. Then along comes a new invention. The “Whiteboard”. These are still known as “Whiteboards”. Hmmm. People are funny and they make me laugh. Oh how I would have loved to have lived in those heady days when it was ok to talk to strangers like Mr Pink-Whistle and accept balloons off them, and all the neighbours got on and nobody needed to lock their doors at night, and nobody cared if you called a spade a spade…
Did those days ever truly exist?
God Bless my rose-tinted spectacles xxx Elsabeth
I can’t get Crash[?] by The Primitives out of my head