Musings

Mostly, today, we have slept.

Life seems to have been a bit effortful lately, and after we got up this morning, we were not refreshed and ready for adventure. We were tired.

We walked round the Library Gardens, and thought, and talked, and thought some more. Then we slept for a couple of hours, and woke up to think about everything all over again.

I had not expected the massive wave of internet thoughtfulness that we discovered when we woke up. Message followed upon friendly message, people rang and emailed and showered us with kindness and support.

We sat in bed with our coffee and felt a bit quiet inside. 

There are far more lovely people in the world than there are angry violent ones. 

We read them all and thought that actually the world is rather a splendid place. 

Now that we are a bit calmer we know that Cumbria police do not mean to be awful either. They do not have enough money to provide the service that everybody wants. When Mark came home battered and bruised I was very angry and wanted to blame the police for being rubbish.

Today I remembered how very cross I was a few weeks ago to discover that our council tax had gone up, and wondered if perhaps I was not being a very reasonable person. 

We live in a very well organised world. We all chip in a bit of cash to provide things like doctors and policemen and libraries, so that everybody can have a civilised life together. Without all of this stuff the world would be a dark and scary place. 

I thought that perhaps I ought not to object so much when I have got to fork out for it.

When it comes to a choice between paying my council tax or going to the theatre I know that I have got to pay my council tax, but I feel very grumpy about it, because I like the theatre a lot, it is bright and exciting and wonderful.  Paying for road repairs and street lamps is not nearly so satisfactory.

I think I need to think a bit more carefully about this.

Number One Daughter rang and insisted that Mark go to see a doctor, and when we thought about it we knew that he ought to really. His jaw and the side of his face is still very swollen and sore, and he has got tinnitus, a horrible whining noise in his ear which won’t go away, even when he is by himself.

We thought that we would make an appointment on Monday, and then write to the police again, asking them if they would take taxi drivers a bit more seriously. We need them to be on our side, and we thought that maybe they have forgotten this a bit.

In the meantime we knew that if the police are not there to help us we will have to help ourselves. We will save up and get some cameras for the taxis, and ring the children’s Krav Maga teacher to learn how to fend off attacks from behind.

We know that the very best thing, the thing that keeps taxi drivers safe more than anything else, is to drive a TX1 London black cab. We have had these before, and they are splendid. There is a sheet of perspex between you and the customer, and if you have got your foot on the brake then the back doors will not open. You are safe and the customers can’t run off.

The problem is that they are expensive. Our council has got a rule that you are not allowed to register a car as a taxi if it is more than four years old, but black cabs of that age are about thirty thousand pounds.

We decided that I would write to the council and argue for a change in the rules. Our council are quite sensible about this sort of thing, and will listen if I shout loudly enough, although it might take a while.

Eventually we realised that the thing which feels so very awful is being helpless. It is not nice to feel as though other people can bully or ignore you.

If we change some things we will not feel so bad. We remembered that having a happy life is absolutely down to us. The police might be tiresome and customers angry and aggressive, but in the end the buck stops with us. Our lives will be as good as we make them. It is not good to let somebody else be in charge of whether or not you are living well and feeling good about life.

We will put some cameras in so that people will believe what we say.

We will write to the police and the council.

After that we will forget all about everything and get on with living our lives. We are not going to let a drugged toe-rag spoil our contentment.

Life is short.

We will not spoil it with feeling angry and resentful.

We will live it happily.