July 17th, 2008


Counting sheep

Last night I laid awake for quite a long time trying to remember if I'd turned the tap off last time I filled up the water troughs for the sheep. It got me thinking about memory.

When I got to the sheep on Monday, I found that two of the gates between my carefully chosen and separated mobs had collapsed (through age and neglect - i've never seen a pipe gate disintegrate quite so completely before - there's a pile of netting and three or four separate pieces of tubing lying on the ground), and they were not only all back in together, but they'd pushed over the boundary gate and were happily munching grass in an unused gully next door.

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Also, I wonder why, when it's about the sheep that are my responsibility, I'm prepared to be flexible and change all my carefully laid plans in an instant to keep up with changing circumstances, yet in other aspects of my life, the prospect of change brings out all my worst characteristics.

Clearly I need to spend more time hanging out with sheep - which, essentially, means I need to become independently wealthy. Either that or civilisation needs to collapse so that money isn't important any more. I wonder which is more likely to happen in my lifetime?

I am going to see Prince Caspian tonight with Tommy and Mum and grist and maybe xhile. I'm told it's better than the first one. I liked the first one, so this is excellent news.