War zones

Being asked to visit a war zone, or visit a near war zone, or visit a just finished being called a war zone for business reasons is not good. If a bullet has my name on it - stop the bus at the office called Deed Poll. I will be quite happy to complete any 20 page form in triplicate if necessary and please spare the time to send it around a multitude of departments if necessary and unnecessarily delaying my trip. And anyway my old signature has long lost its legibility as three vowels and two consonants have merged into a line. I need a new signature to rediscover my handwriting skillls. Bureaucracy process please do your best delaying worst.

And as a contrast, as a mirror image......Coming home to a war zone is also not good and cannot be talked about so readily, cannot be rejected so easily, it is by action and reaction not avoidable. A family unit in disarray again. It is my fault for not being there.


Single parenting by default. Hormone rages through what used to be a favoured son, putting the diss into dysfunctional family life and Bart Simpson is not merely a cartoon character with good comedic lines but a role model with bad lines. The Crisis management teams are not on call here for re-assurance and 'stay calm' message.


Brushing one's teenage teeth has become a challenge. apparently the not brushing of zellowing teeth is a statement of individuality for this generation, in tandem to the finding an inner self esteem, self image teenage adrenalin rush of arguining over flossing teeth has replaced glue sniffing. It is a symbol of resistance - a Rebel with a Cause called Dental Un-Hygiene. A favoured son with dentures in his mid thirties, whilst he is thinking I am only thirteen. I may need to hum.