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 |   A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| Morbid Alert I find myself writing about death quite frequently these days. At the same time, it has dawned on me gradually that Americans really don’t like the subject. Not that anyone does really, but Europeans have a somewhat more stoical and accepting view of it. In America it is definitely not a subject for polite conversation. That’s perfectly understandable, considering how much more optimistic and active Americans are - death is the last thing they want to think about. But Northern Europeans especially are much more depressed about life (I would say “realistic”). And death is, after all, a part of life. It’s why the Danes are the happiest people on earth; their pessimism means that they are never disappointed. As far as I am concerned, this thing about death is the natural addendum to my interest in ageing. I’ve always chased some imaginary benefit in the process, things like wisdom, having something to say, and the time to write, for instance. So the details and changes that age brings are fascinating to me. I am, in effect, my own scientific experiment. And old age brings the consideration of how it all ends, of course. This might, as in my case, be speeded up by some brush with the grim reaper like a heart attack, but it’s always going to happen sooner or later. The interest, I mean - the event itself is obviously inevitable. So I write about it. Not so often in article format but my poetry these days is positively steeped in it. Which means that I have to apologise to those readers that might be offended by too much harping on such a morbid subject. There’s no way I want to rub anyone’s nose in it. You see, it’s my death I’m always considering, no one else’s. And, though there are a few who might notice my disappearance, the rest of you are not really going to be affected much, are you? So be of good cheer, happy readers. There’s no need to get too wrapped up in my doleful maunderings. There are plenty of days left and most will be filled with sunshine, I’m sure. Rejoice and be merry for tomorrow we… Oops, sorry about that. Word count: 368 |
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