Most of the blog postings that don't see the light of day are the moany ones. I usually feel that there's enough of that going on already, but this morning for some reason moaning seems funny! Here is my moan.
When I was in Newcastle a couple of weeks ago, I got up very early one sunny morning and went for a walk in the centre of the Toon. On every bench in the big shopping centre (the Eldon Centre), there was a duo or sometimes a trio of elderly men, moaning. Sometimes there was a walking stick, sometimes a flat cap, often a tweedyish jacket. And it wasn't just there: in the old Grainger Market, the same thing was going on. Sitting down together, looking around, and having a bloody good old moan about everything.
In the street walking back on the roadside benches? The same thing.
I talked to someone about it and they reckoned that their wives had probably chucked them out for the day, which is very possible.
What made me think of it was having to change the day and time that I go swimming, because here in the south of England the same thing happens. There was a particular duo of chaps with voices that carried across the peaceful waters of the swimming pool, who carefully positioned themselves halfway down so they could intercept innocent swimmers with their forthright and very Reform-focused opinions. I realised that their aim was to catch your eye and get you to agree with them. The weekly swim stopped being an endorphin-inducing pleasure, and became an exercise in swimming very quickly past them to avoid getting caught in their noxious net of opinions.
Greeting each beautiful morning with grumpiness seems to be an accepted practice at the moment. Perhaps we could reintroduce Morning Assembly, with cheerful singing of All Things Bright And Beautiful, Morning Has Broken or the perhaps the more emotionally stately Wonderful World, plus a short moment of silent and positive reflection to begin the day.
Yes, let's do that!
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