All Poets Are Idlers, Even If All

In This Age Of Getting What You Want And Getting It Now, The Simple Pleasure Of Browsing Is Often Forgotten.

I've Given Up Email. Well, Almost. At The Weekend I Set Up One Of Those Auto-reply Messages, Informing My Correspondents That I Would No Longer Be Checking My Emails, And That Instead They Might Like To Call Or Write, As We Used To In The Olden Days.

Management Gurus In General Are, I Think, Best Avoided. All Too Often They Reduce Your Working Life To A List Of Rules To Be Followed. Targets Are Aimed At. Goals Kicked At. You Then Break The Rules Or Forget Them And, Hey Presto, You Start Beating Yourself Up.

Our Dreams Take Us Into Other Worlds, Alternative Realities That Help Us Make Sense Of Day-to-day Realities.

When Stuck Years Ago In A Job I Hated, My Only Friend Was The Public Bench. As The Tedious Mornings Dragged On, How I Would Long For The Lunch Hour, When I Would Be Able To Escape The Torture Of The Office And Stroll Over To The Churchyard And Into The Comforting Wooden Embrace Of One Of Its Benches.