I woke up in a terrible mood after a bad dream in which someone was being nasty to me. It was a product, I think, of thinking about my childhood, in particular the question of whether I was allowed to be myself. This is a difficult idea because who I am now is always a product of my past. There is no ‘true self’ that you would have been without relationships that skewed you. So on one level it’s pointless to hypothesise what you might have become. Yet it is possible to analyse whether the way people behaved towards you were positive or negative.
My parents were awkward, but there was also all that stuff that boys/men are always subjected to. As an adult I discovered I preferred talking about feelings to talking about football. I think this was always true, yet as a child, and particularly as an adolescent, there was absolutely no way to discover it. I only felt a low level dull resentment around the topic of sport, and gradually developed a thick callus shell against the way adolescent boys interact with each other.
This isn’t an attempt to paint my situation as something special, though there were some special circumstances. In fact I think the above is normal. What is less normal is recovery. I look at our rulers driving us towards the end of the world and see that they never recovered. But I look too at all those who vote for the Vermin who are kicking them, and see that they too never recovered. Many people are still living in their hard shells. Which isn’t to say, alas, that they don’t genuinely like football.
I’ve been cheered up by a funny story from the Red Flash, and going for a run to get the adrenalin flowing. Just in time too: the rain is back in Londres.