Sunday, 10 July 2011

“Boys, I may not know much, but I know chicken shit from chicken salad.”

...said Lyndon B Johnson.













I like that quote. I nearly changed the word 'shit' to 'poo' out of sensitivity to I don't know whom, but shit isn't THAT bad as a word really. And it wasn't me that said it, after all!

How about this though?








Today, I was poo picking (well, it's alliteration, much like shit shovelling) in the mares' field shelter.

The equation goes like this.

One field shelter. Four mares. Half the field shelter is used as a toilet. Only two mares, the biggest and feistiest, use the field shelter to shelter in because none of them like to stand on poo.

While I was shovelling, a most strange analogy came to me that my brain was like the field shelter. Half of it is full of poo. I only use the other half. Maybe if I clear the poo out of the messy half, I'll have more clear brain to use?

Or maybe, rather like the horses, I STILL won't use the half that used to be full of poo. I'll STILL squash up in the corner of the clean half and prevent other thoughts (for this read two mares) from coming in with a swift kick.








Here's something Ernest Hemingway said:

“There isn't any symbolism. The sea is the sea. The old man is an old man. The boy is a boy and the fish is a fish. The shark are all sharks no better and no worse. All the symbolism that people say is shit. What goes beyond is what you see beyond when you know.”

Perhaps I'll abandon the idea that my brain is like a field shelter?