It's becoming glaring evident.. the grey.. grey infusing the weather.. the landscape.. the faces of those on the bus..
Xmas is nearly upon us.. and already the desperation is beginning to
overshadow the some what forced outward show of increasing bonhomie and peace among men..
Those who might actually be content with their upcoming celebrations are rolling past those in the queues for their damp ride home.. comfortable in their particular peculiar existence, complete with at the very least, a BMW..
This Europe situation actually has the man on the street worried.. the extent varies from each to each.. but we know that should Europe disintegrate both financially and as a coherent entity tied by the €.. then the financial upheaval would be a virtual European Fukashima quake.. with the epicenter in France.. utter chaos..
Now there are some saying that this is not yet irretrievable.. the the European Central Bank could support bond issues.. But judging by the response of a German offering which sold something like 60% of the issue.. keeping in mind these were offering only 1.9% over ten years.. what economic gain is going to be gleaned by buying paper that could well be useless well before maturity..?
Grey.
The quiet resignation that what will need to be done, will be done.. even if it's a night out once a week.. a dinner with the girlfriend every fortnight.. they can be replaced with an evening cuddling on the couch in front of the telly..
It's that obvious.. the dimming of the ambition.. the preparation to accept what one has and what's more, to be damned happy to at least have that..
Britain is assuming yet another 'wartime mentality'..
We know, to put it bluntly, the excreta is about to hit the fan, and we are equally aware we are, each of us, individually, are powerless to stop it..
Time to find pleasures in the simpler things again..
Grey.
The faces on the bus, that is.. or the Tube.. or the commuter train..