Saturday, July 1

Saturdays…

Am reclined on a comfortable chair in the snug. Outside the sun is beating down. The homestead’s windows are open, admitting a pleasant breeze. There’s a chilled glass of Viré-Clessé at my elbow and a pre-lunch appetiser – an expensive ‘artisan’ terrine*. Marvin Gaye croons from the wireless and I’ve a mountain of reading material. All is right with the world…Charles Moore speaks to me:

 “The phrase ‘bucket list’ entered the language early this century, and you now hear it most days. It means your self-chosen list of the things you must do before you die. There is something wrong about the psychology behind this. More of us are troubled by doing too much, not too little. Life involves innumerable lists of tasks, and this makes one ill-prepared for death. The best bucket-shop list of things to do would simply say ‘Less’.” 

*A poncey version, maybe, but it’s still Spam.

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