the brilliantly leaping gazelle

Yesterday reconfirmed something I, and those that know me, know only too well, Namely that I’m a misanthrope And a curmudgeon. Exactly what the difference is, or where one ends and the other begins, is something of a mystery to me. Be that as it may, I’m either one or the other; possibly both at the same time and have been so ever since I was a child. Because as you all know, childhood is where we find the clues for all adult behaviours.

I wasn’t born with a protracted loathing of most other people, in my case; it was born out of continued experience of and exposure to other people. I mention this because the worst form of transport for a misthanthropic curmudgeon is a side-by-side adult tricycle, a discovery I painfully found out yesterday. I brought a one some time ago and yesterday being a sunny day it was suggested that we take it for a spin and head down to the Southbank. It all seemed like a great idea. Getting to the Southbank was quite easy thanks to a combination of back roads and designated cycle lanes. That was the good bit of the journey.

The worst part of the journey was passers-by incessant habit of hurling pleasantries in our direction as we passed them. Cheerful exhortations that they seemed to think were somehow welcome to hear. My displeasure was written all over my face and spoken into the ear of my unfortunate companion, who had no chance of escape and possibly because of this circumstance, made only muted comments, aside from that is waving at these hooligans and encouraging them.

Arriving at the Southbank was even worse, it was half term so of course the Southbank was crowded with vermin, I mean children. I did point out to my companion that when I refer to children as vermin, I mean most of the children in the world that are not her daughter. Again, she didn’t pass comment on this.

Perhaps wisely, being as how parents are biologically hard-wired to imagine the fruit of their loins as not rotten and certainly not the seeds of humanity’s destruction.