Starving Children of ....

I was taught, if there was food on plate, then within short, there was food in a mouth, and by the magic of biology food in a stomach , a morning constitution and a pattern on a plate that saw sunlight after a lick or two. And now luxury......


An earned salary that can not only talk of food as if there is a difference between an ice cream and sorbet, that for instead of a tea, we now have a wine that needs not a connoiseur to tell your Riojas from Diablos. A ritual of approval has been learnt, sniffing the air, but still the heart prefers a Stout which is unlikley to be served and certainly unlikely to be requested.


An annual Bonus is expected to finance toys that are seldom used to their multi functioning limits. Men's toys, gadgets to forewarn me of meetings, to vibrate at meetings taht I am needed outside a meetiny, to play a game of bricks when bored of executive decision-making.

Technology once envied and dismissed from the wrong side of the shop window is now adorning a belt or necklace or pocket especuially made for the purpose. A middle aged executive as likely a techno-nerd as a living God of Commerce could create. A Techno-Exec who would be lost without his gadgets.

Technology that can survive any Airport metal detector in one's master role in the art of international jet-set travel. A master role faintly hiding frustration with lesser mortals that only fail to remove a belt until a special request is made, passengers having to dump grandmas's scissors because one has not realised it is a dangerous weapon and not a family heirloom, and therefore delay one's passage to the VIP salon by seconds.

And one places a donation to the starving children of Africa to mollify one's guilt in a foreign currency shrapnel in a ledaing airliner charity push and no doubt the starving children of Africa are happy. The pattern in the plate is hidden, perhaps.

Whilst I now hardly ever see the pattern in the plate.


A worm has turned, but turned for the better....?