A strange, mixed day for me in Londres. I finally planted some trees I had been planning to get in the ground for the last two months. Well, I say ‘I’: in fact others did most of the work while I stomped around in the mud giving directions. The workers implied, if subtly, that they were sceptical about the worth of planting in parks in poor parts of the Londres. And people say I’m negative.
In the afternoon I was in the office, the dull, dull office where nothing ever happens. The boss of the Public Tree Service told me there is talk of hiring us out on the private market. Just the way the world is going, but we will try to resist, for the sake of preserving what we already do. Elsewhere however, things were happening: an attack on the Palace of Power. It was somewhat amateur in execution but the attacker managed to take three people with him. Twat.
I rode back home on the tube through silent station beneath the Palace. Everyone on the tube was as unfriendly and unengaged as usual. Back home my father rang to see if I was okay. The call ended with him ranting against the decline he sees across the nation, particularly in public services. He seemed to think there is genuinely no money available to reverse the trend, making him despair for the future. I tried to persuade him that The Island is still one of the richest places in the world, it’s just that the money gets pumped out the country through massive pipes to reservoirs across the sea where it does nothing but sit and accumulate and give power to those who hold it. He wondered why nobody is in the public eye explaining this. Some people are, but nobody is listening.
The end of the world is a sort of highly trained deafness, and one question we should be asking is who is doing the training, and another question we should be asking is whether this type of deafness can lead to death. A harsh thought for a day like this, but what better day to try to understand the world?