Computers

Started to search through some of my old files – with the intention of writing something of a biography. Of course that had to wait until I’d dealt with the post, answered the most important emails, rebooted the computer because it had an itch somewhere in its nether regions and had decided to go very slowly.

Have you ever wondered why we are acting as nannies for this bits of silica? They’ll take over in the end, but for now seem content to let us batter ourselves into eternity frustrating over idiosyncrasies that are no more than the learning curve of any small child. And that’s what the computer in front of you is, and mark my words it will grow up one day and look at you and say, ‘get out of my life you boring old fool, what do you know about anything?’

The truth is – we know nothing.

All that prompted me to write a little ditty;

It's not my mess this life
When we do as others ask
Time flies
The morning breaks nights still
Promising a wondrous day
How shall that be filled?
With the mundane of existence
Selling my soul for another's tuppenny demand
Push aside the piles of other people's dreams
Find space to write sparse words
Not in anguish or pain but to explain
Desire
Time shadows the need to express
For days to watch the grass grow
To hear birds chattering delight as
Walking with my misty outline
The world knows which way to go round

That poem is not just about computers – it’s about you lot out there – whoever you are. Whatever, I still love you.