Duvet day

I have been very busy this last week and was so tired yesterday, that I planned to do only two things: to go for a tiny bike ride, and to play my sax. I managed the former, just, but was too tired to bother to pick up some litter on the verge. And the sax? I played one and a half tunes and then gave up, exhausted. 

I was too tired even to do a Sudoku. I watched a lot of comfort TV, largely, to my shame, Gilmore Girls, which I privately swore off when I went to America in September. I am back on it again, hooked, despite my disdain for the two lead characters. The main one, Lorelai, is so annoying that when in a recent episode she had her heart broken I was pleased. She was partly to blame. Yes, this is really me (your warm and fluffy blogger who cried at the trailer for I, Daniel Blake, never mind the film) relishing the suffering of a fictional character who talks at 100 mph, is physically attractive and is supposed to be sympathetic to the viewer. I am a little shocked at myself, though not so much I'll be losing sleep. Why do I watch this stuff? It is entertaining, unchallenging, and is a world where everyone is housed, clothed, fed and loved. 

Meanwhile in Calais, vulnerable children are sleeping rough because of the heartlessness of our government. How can we persuade them to behave with decency and compassion?  Our MP gives us deaf and dumb breakfast. What about yours?

Let us do what we can as private citizens.

There is plenty of other stuff going on that's worthy of a rant, but I am leaving it here, with two excerpts from the poem, Home, by Warsan Shire:

Home

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

.......

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps...'