I have spent a significant part of my life honing my misery skills. I cam look, and act, and sound, like the most cantankerous whinger this side of …. anywhere.
And certainly, the past months have certainly helped in fine-tuning the skill set.
With Trump redefining international buffoonery to a life threatening level on the global stage, and demonstrating a disregard for the most basic of humanitarian concerns in a way that put ‘callous’ in the shade.
With both sides of the Brexit divide behaving like there is not a reality outside their ‘playground’, with the only sane-ish voice coming from – I am going to say it – a Tory.
With the stubbornness of wildly contorted tribal grudges being used by external powers to play their proxy death games.
And the usual round-up of outdated but stubborn yearnings for yesteryear.
It all gets so easy to be miserable, and angry, and so it goes.
A glimmer in Ireland shaved some of the grump, but there is still plenty to feed the beast.
But I am struggling to retain the mood. To remain at the bottom of the pit.
And the reason is down to an individual who defies every cliff she stands at the bottom of, or pauses half way up for a breather. She keeps on climbing.
Faced with ongoing, new, established, unexpected, and definitely unwarranted challenges, she continues to confound my negativity.
In the last week, and the last two days, she has forced me to smile, and laugh, and cry, and again be in awe of her strength.
You would think, as a friend, she would appreciate the effort that goes into being as miserable as I can be from time to time.
But no. No conscience at all.
And so I am forced to smile. And find nuggets of happiness in a world of cheating alchemists.
Life can be tough!!
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