Do you ever get one of those days when everything, I mean absolutely every last damn thing, seems entirely insane? Every word uttered, every action performed by every imbecile in the whole wide witless world including oneself, fatuous, inane? When each exchange sounds incomprehensible; every journey proves aimless; all pronouncements, vacuous. Turn on the TV and every channel's broadcasting the preposterous; the radio, bizarre. I realise, dear Reader, that this is not a revelation, more a mental aberration, a bit like Michael Douglas in "Falling Down", only without the psychotic backlash.
These episodes are disconcerting, and I'm glad they don't happen often. This afternoon I was plunged headlong into the world of the absurd for a short time, then gradually it wore off like the lingering disquietude of a bad dream.
I could, of course, be heading for the snake pit. Three years ago I had my first heart attack, and I was convinced it was indigestion.
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