Gobbledygook, Frisbees, and "What is the point?"

Life is full of hard times, hard words, hard consonants, and hard knocks on the door if your portable doorbell refuses to chime. I have a portable model which is particularly useful for hearing visitors when I'm in another country, or continent. It works at a distance of up to 8000 kilometers when there is a good wireless signal. This morning I had the door knocker removed. Tomorrow I plan to remove the door.

In truth, I'm tired of people turning up at my home unannounced, or worse, without saying in advance. I'm tired of people who beg, steal, deceive, and commit fraud, so I've decided to change my outrageous behavior. No more gobbledygook, doublespeak, oxymorons (especially, between meals), false empathy, insincerity, telling strangers, "The doctor will be with you in a minute" in bank queues, and eating custard while simultaneously trying to sing "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" by Elton John.

I'm also giving up my position in the financial industry. As Howard Hughes once famously said, "So what if it took two and a half million feet of film to shoot the film, I've the money and I'm taking drugs!"

This morning it's raining. My wife and I are soaked. Our clothes and rucksacks are damp, and our heavy boots are cold and muddy. I check my guide book. It confirms we are sitting at the kitchen table in our home. Where would we be without maps? Though hungry and thirsty, we are both relieved to know where we are. As we suck on beach pebbles we exchange a Frisbee, and think about salmon sandwiches, donuts, ham and eggs, and the person who introduced half-day closing.

My wife and I have vowed to avoid all unnecessary expenditure, and to never leave the house until "the current financial crisis" has concluded , and all the "bubbles" have burst. When my wife inquired about lunch, I smiled. I pulled a piece of pancake of two months standing from my pocket and proudly announced we were in luck. While our diet is frugal (though we sometimes dine at a neighbour's house when he is out), and we retire early to bed to avoid the expense of candles, we usually sleep badly due to the absence of sheets and blankets, and worrying about debts. As creditors' are pressing heavily down on us, we have hatched a plan to outwit them which, to my knowledge, has never been tried before in the history of civilization. We intend to do a "moonlight flit" during the daytime.

Reflections: Some people like the moon better than the sun. One day I asked my paternal grandmother - aged seventy-six - what she missed most about her younger days. She replied wetting her ankles and wading in the sea up to her knees. (For her the tide was coming in). She always loved the nighttime, and wasn't afraid of the dark or what lay beyond. She found the sparkling stars and the moon enchanting.

"To me, the moon is more beautiful than the sun, " she said. "Always has, always will. I recall lovely summer evenings when our town was still warm. As night fell my heart would dance. The gleam of the moon on the sea, the shore, the lights of houses, boats, was beautiful. The sky filled with stars. The evening was sweet. I was happy."  She added, "Parents make the mistake of frightening children with stories of bogeymen, ghosts, and spooks. It only gives children nightmares and instills a fear of the dark. What is the point of that?" Wise words, indeed.