No News Week

Well, it has been a funny old week in many a way. Not in a 'I met a clown in the supermarket and his trousers fell down and out fell a frozen chicken,' funny old week way (although that would have been quite funny, except that I find clowns very disturbing and freakish) but more a shifting of thinking kind of way. Philosophical, if you like. And can spell it.

I decided to avoid news, you see. World news, local news, TV news, newspaper news. For a whole week I had no idea what was going on beyond the activities within home and work. And even then I wasn't wholly sure what was happening there. I put the daily newspaper money in a pot and have thus accumulated three fine English pounds in loose change. I have decided to purchase some new pants with this accumulation because a couple  of my current pairs are, like the change, a tad loose too; why, one pair managed to make it down to mid-thigh this week AND I was wearing trousers at the time, so they DEFINITELY need to go.

And did I miss knowing what was going on in the world? No, I did not! I have to say I capitulated a little on Friday and bought the Kent Messenger then wished I hadn't for two reasons: 1) it was full of doom and gloom and advertisements for booking up workplace Christmas do's (sorry, CT - that is x3 now) and 2) I could have saved £1.10 and bought an extra pairs of pants.

And there was some confusion yesterday morning over egg on toast and Radio 4 because stuff had been going on in the world that I knew nothing about and so I had to keep asking Andy about stuff that was sounding VERY important which actually turned out to be not very important at all, so I think I shall continue with the no news experiment and save myself a lot of unnecessary worry. 

Some might say this is a BAD thing. That as a responsible citizen of the world I should make it my duty to keep up with the goings on. I say that if you saw me this morning carrying a kitten in the hood of my favourite woolly hoody jumpy then you would retract all accusations of responsibility immediately and allow me scoot through a life of no news in my own ignorant is bliss bubble because it would be safer for everyone involved.

I have also being doing a lot of reading and, as Andy sweetly puts it, 'book learnin'' about processes of meditation, Buddhism, Yogic development, and a lady called Alice Bailey who did a massive amount of spiritual work with a guide she called 'The Tibetan.' In fact, I spent most of yesterday in the company of Alice Bailey (not literally - she has long since gone to a better place, and I don't mean the Lake District.) And because of the 'random links' nature of the interwebbly, one piece of reading lead to another and another and I came to the conclusion that Alice Bailey (and not Alice abseiled as autocorrect has just tried to tell me!) was an interesting character who has fallen foul of quite a bit of misinterpretation causing some considerable controversy amongst those who don't believe in her ideas. 

Now I am not saying I believe everything she wrote. And from what I have read so far it seems neither did she when she wrote some of it. Yesterday, five hours of research barely grazed the surface skin on the little finger of the enormous hand of the giant of the stuff she did, and of her life and work. I have a lot more interesting reading to do. But what I am saying is that some of her detractors jumped to some seemingly unfair conclusions. My opinion, of course. To which I am entitled as much as the next person. 

It does make you THINK though. (I am also thinking it is jolly wet and windy outside and I am glad I don't have to be out in it, and that there is a batch of scones in the tin downstairs and isn't it funny that Andy, who is making bread, has just told me he has had to make up a hot water bottle to help the bread rise because it is so chilly!). Odd, isn't it, how some random connection, arising from nowhere, suddenly fires such an interest? But good though. It is always good to be learning. 

And I am also thinking I wish Flora Bijou Mybug would stop licking my jumper with such gusto because she is eventually going to cough up one enormous woolly ball and it'll be me who finds it with my bare feet.