Roger and ramblings

Meet Roger:


Mark brought this scrawny little babe in from the Pigeon loft Tuesday morning with a torn underwing. He made me feel very motherly, so I have hand-fed and watered him, and called him Roger. He repays my kindness by chirping endlessly through all the good bits on telly and shitting on my carpet.

My sis-in law came around yesterday for a cup of tea and a go at me for not blogging more often. In fact, I do believe that if I had blogged lately, she wouldn't have bothered to pay me a visit at all ha ha. Here's the thing: I love the whole concept of blogging, and I love a bit of blog-hopping as much as the next cyber-gal, but it does kind of kill the art of spontaneous conversation as you end up repeating yourself and not even managing to be as interesting as your own cyber-self. . . .

My friend informs me that there are plans afoot to add a lift to Haytor to enable access to disabled people. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) She is convinced this is true, and is (pretty justifiably I think) outraged at this. Whilst I fully appreciate the need to make 'life' as reasonably accessible as possible to the disabled population, does this type of thing qualify as 'reasonable' access? Methinks not - since Haytor is a geographical monument which has been there for millions(?) of years and therefore cannot be likened to adding a slope to the local greengrocers for disabled entry!!

I think this country is heading towards mindless positive discrimination. Worse, in my mind than your common or garden discrimination, since there is a big helping of hypocrisy in there too.

During her ranting and raving, my friend, who shall remain nameless to protect anonymity, said - and I quote - 'why don't disabled people just realise that life has handed them the shitty end of the stick and just get on with it.' Whilst I saw where that fitted in to her argument, I couldn't help staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment that she'd said it out loud. So callous.

Well, that will do for now. Better try and pull a decent meal out of the ether for Mark tonight, since last night I handed him a tin of beans and a bag of frozen chips before buggering off to work all night. Tsk tsk. I fear I am failing in my wifely duties.