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[Aug. 11th, 2014|02:28 pm] |
Made the tram and headed off to Kengarags - a regional friend was entertaining a few educated friends at the back of the carriage - seemed to lose a bit of his accent in the process of comparing notes in educated jargon - the only bit I understood was when he alluded to a few who were studying Freud with a view to pursuing law in the Commission."Oh! Is that so they know when to feel guilty?'I piped up. This was a met with a requisite ripple of laughter, and then in the nicely observed silence that followed, I was asked by an English academic: "And do you still run?"
"No, I've got arthritis, but I am now manager of a football team."
"My dear fellow, John, What are you doing?" He replied expertly, and everyone, including, especially including my wife, exploded with laughter.
It is true and false (the insinuation): football is hermetically sealed from reality, but then so are many things we take seriously. How to drag some of it into real substance? Gave it some thought this morning with my missus as I drove our fucked up motor to the service. Came up with a few ideas... though, of course (and here I will spell it out): the educated careerists saw meaning in reciprocal acknowledgement of status (as well as the digital numbers transferred into bank-owned accounts with their name attached). So, you know: fuck em. |
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