One of my favourite poems is The Waste Land by T.S. Elliot. It was one of the little joys when I was studying in Aberdeen. Elliot and 50p vodka drinks at the Student Refectory. What I like about the poem is all the fragmented references that Elliot makes to other works that he weaves so seamlessly into his work.
So why is April going to be the cruellest month? This is the lull before the storm, and I am savouring the last day of March because all hell will break loose in April. In terms of work, I will need to run around like the Duracell bunny, a deranged and dishevelled rabbit for that matter. The March hare morphs into the crazed bunny.
For my friends who actually read this – thank you for putting up with all the drama and histrionics over the past few months. The Pet asked, “Why your life got so much drama?” To which I enthused, “It runs in my family!” There you go – the dysfunction is hereditary. I blame my parents.
Friends, there will be more drama and histrionics to come!
To Krusty, I dutifully promise to realign my life and I don’t want you to “scrape my body off the tarmac”.
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