Saturday, May 11, 2013

The foggy foggy dew

Well, the plan was to shoot some wallaby this evening - but the ground hugging mist was creeping by sundown, making that impossible.

It is very beautiful, but a little irritating. I imagine the wallaby don't see it that way, but well, I'd rather have my meat from a quick clean death they weren't expecting, rather than a confused and not very nice long trip to the abbatoir. That's my choice, and I don't expect anyone else to live by it, nor do I turn my nose up at a meal at the pub or a friend's house because of it. I was reading a newspaper piece on the fellow who lived a couple of years without any money. Admittedly he did it with the support of pre-bought caravan and solar panel, and by using a bunch of sites that let him take advantage of other's affluence, rather than our sort of gifting society. But it got me thinkng of how the state must hate the cashless transaction. Not that we can do without money - but the tiny bit of tax they collect from cartrige sales and seed sales and dive gear and fuel sales is so small compared to the transactional income they get on every stage of most of the rest of what we produce. Of course it has other knock ons - if no-one buys from the butcher he can't pay rent, or for meat... which may have not so good effects on others. Still, it lets me continue writing and we eat well, and live quite well, and we do not take anything out of the system, but pay our way, where we do spend. It's a balancing act though, and hard to store - unless it is good-will, words or preserved food - for a rainy day or a foggy one. Those preserves work well here, but I don't think they'd be much use in the city.

As you can gather by the waffley post all I did today was the usual chores, a little gardening, a bit of writing, making the week's rolls. Country life. There are much worse things.

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