Wednesday, 20 February 2013

What a fool, quoth she, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty!

 I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.


My favourite hymn, when I was but a small girl in school. This is a very jolly version. The school version was about half the speed and dragged along as only school hymns can. Still, I found it uplifting. The puritan in me.

I'm not a great one for lying in stinking dungeons or indeed, for telling the truth - so how about I start?

The stinking dungeon, in my life, is peopled with certain acquaintances who feel the need to snipe and sneer. Not at me. No, I don't mean that. At personalities. At politicians. At TV programmes. At people with a positive outlook on life, which is somehow considered to be naive. At others who are simply trying their best. At anyone at all who seems to them to be fair game - often people without the necessary intellectual capacity or opportunity to join in, to construct witty ripostes.

Maybe it's something  to do with the internet which, apparently, offers people carte blanche to say exactly what they like, however cutting and unpleasant.

I tell you what, too much of it drags me down.


It's a matter of integrity to me. I feel tainted. I don't think it's clever.

This is what I want to say:


(Well, except I don't want to say Anne Sexton)

Me coming out of stinking dungeon in Doubting Castle...

Fighting.