Saturday, 13 March 2010

Therapy

So, another night with no sleep. The spring is springing, that is for sure.

The thought struck me, while leaning on an apple tree I planted - yes, it has grown that strong and sturdy, it can now be leaned upon. Or is that leant upon?

Therapy. That was the thought. The people who are the modern therapists are the worst qualified, because they jumped through all the hoops.

I wonder why we all get our dose from the well-rounded, salty, earthy, superb human beings that inhabit these blogs?

I would fall at the first hurdle. But I know I've rubbed my nose in so many different places that I can speak of the things whereof I speak, to mangle a phrase. At this time of night I can't even remem - oh - it's Wittgenstein.

You have all helped me, far more than I could possibly set down in words. Compared to the 'professionals', all you nuts are worth a billion psychiatrists, each and every one of you.

That's all!

p.s. Alfie has just come down, and asked: "Is it early or is it late, Daddy?" I replied (and he is watching me type) that it is late in the night, but early in the morning. What is the time? It is five to seven. Goodbye sleep! Dx

1 comment:

Scream said...

Ah, how sweet. I had to explain to my little one why the Wild West of American Westerns is
East of where we live. I explained that we are so far West that we are almost East.

We are West of New York City but we are West of "The West" sitting out here on the edge of the earth.