Malcolm Glazer has just bought Manchester United Football Club... quite a cheeky but very smart move, in my opinion...get them to pay for his purchase...'money makes money' as they say.
I'm having trouble deciding on a BSc subject...choices...choices. Life's so full of them and you just can't afford to make the wrong move. Reminds me of the time I played my Dad at a game of darts. First to reach 300 wins...as I consumed the final Devonshire scone of the day we had arrived at a 'dead heat' - sudden death - just one bull's eye to beat Daddy... I think the play was double or nothing at that point and being a compulsive risk-taker (calculated and most painstakingly re-calculated, of course) I whacked that final dart home and dry... of course, of late I can't exactly say my attempts at 'life' have been too successful - this year has somehow managed to squeeze quite a lot out of me (or did I just happen to lose a lot during its course?)...not entirely unexpected, but then again, not a welcome situation. It doesn't help when the only advice I can give myself is - back straight, Jason - you aren't the only one - other people have it just as bad if not worse...like those lovely Tube drivers who have decided to go on strike from May 23rd...
I've said it before and I'll say it again - life can only get better (sarcastic) - there's less and less to look forward to with each passing day; next year I'll look back and wonder why I wasn't happier/more cheerful; the year after that I'll look back and wonder why I bothered wasting precious time wondering about the year before that - and so on. One could carpe diem and live for the moment, but then one faces the regret of not having attempted to do some 'forward planning' - when it all goes to pieces because you rushed head-first on an impulse into a pile of muck, then even if you try to brush it all aside and plod on, the lesson remains that you either waste time later correcting today's mistakes or dwell (paralysed) on planning for tomorrow, thereby disconnecting yourself from the possibilities of the present. Argh.
Despite this incredibly 'negative' attitude I still rate myself an eternal optimist - never abandon hope...it's still there...always. Anything's better than not having an alternative - so even though 'it can only get worse' and 'this too, shall pass' are constantly rolling off my lips, I still have that stubborn hope for a 'better tomorrow' (what on earth am I saying?!) - the odd idealistic streak within my perpetual melancholy...
Unbeknownst to him, Marion had started to miss her furry feline friend and had decided to replace him with a stuffed Garfield toy. Although this was rather inanimate, Marion found in it a sense of comfort and inner peace which no living creature could ever provide. Marion's (former) cat paced the garden wall, staring morosely at his (former) owner hugging her new Garfield toy each night, tenderly patting it and flashing her hitherto unseen but endearingly beautiful smile at the Garfield toy each morning. The (living) cat understood how difficult it was to make a final, clean break with the past and he stood silently on the patio, calling one final time to Marion. "Meow, meow, meeeowww meow meow." It was a soft, haunting lament of what once was and what could have been. "Meow, meow meow." The double-glazed windows blocked out most noise and Marion managed to convince herself that the mournful wail came from a passing police patrol-car. "Meow - meow." The sun slid behind a cloud and cast a couple of pale rays behind Marion's cat. "Meow."
Marion glanced at the calendar - Friday 13th - she walked out of the house to attend Friday prayers at the local mosque. She unlocked the door but didn't get much further before looking down at the ground where the still, quiet body of her cat lay silently - alone, rejected and abandoned by the one human he thought he might spend a lifetime with. She knelt, bowing her head in sorrow and shock as the wind swatted her face. Not a tear, not a whisper - only her smile - that gorgeous smile - disappeared.
For the reader's interest an Epilogue is provided:
Marion's first thought after her initial shock was whether she could eat the cat - before realising that Islamic law considers such animals haram (unclean). Ever a pragmatic woman, she therefore decided to expedite the burial by contacting the 'pet insurance' company (from which she had very wisely purchased a comprehensive coverage policy) to claim compensation for 'emotional damage and psychological trauma.' What a level-headed lady. The cat was sold to the local Chinese restaurant for the princely sum of £7.40 and was subsequently turned into 'five-spice mixed meat rice.' Garfield lived happily ever after. Marion moved out and emigrated to Ireland recently - her younger sister is about to pursue a doctorate in feline biology in Moscow.
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