An English In Kentucky


















Wednesday October 4th 2017Tim Candler9


     Sadly the indoors during the hours prior to high noon are somewhat dominated by Feline political maneuvering, so an exhausted gardener such as myself does best to bravely endure the more onerous outdoor routines in appallingly dry and phlegm driven conditions until the afternoon respite. The current quarrel between the Girl Cat, myself and the Kitten, revolves around a chair in the room where I sleep. The room is my safe place, a haven from the rattle of life, and until recently it was a sanctuary pretty much devoid of fellow beings except the wintering Ladybirds, there are those fascinating little Spiders that spin chaotic webs around which rhyme or reason cannot be found and I'm graced by a visit from an occasional hornet. And for the smart apple, it's no good closing the door to my own little piece of heaven, it just causes loud unrelenting caterwauling, which puts a whole other nuance on who might get access to the nicer part of the afterlife.



     There are actually three chairs in my room. The more splendid and most comfortable, it has contemplative arms, a high head rest, the throne if you prefer, and is the subject of the current dispute. All three of us lust after it. The next chair is a little small, perfectly adequate for a boney bottom, it has a soft cushion seat and like the throne it has little wheels so you can float it across the floor without having to go to the effort of lifting it up. The third chair is one of those chairs you'd expect to find in the attic of a dead relative. It has no single redeeming feature, it's rickety, it creaks when sat upon, the wicker seat is in the process of disintegrating, it has no wheels, and yet as a result of domestic politicking it's the chair I have been reduced to sitting upon while delving into the great mysteries. And it's no wonder that in sixty odd years of declining consciousness I have yet to find anything resembling a lasting solution. But on the positive side, unlike the current Secretary of State of the USA, I'm quite unable to assign the title "Moron" to either occupant of my room's other two chairs.



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