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This Odd Prompt comes from Becky Jones, who puts forward the following: The strange little creature trotted down the sidewalk.

***

He had not asked to become a living, breathing creature. In fact, he found the entire concept quite distasteful, especially in his current surroundings. Far removed from the tranquillity of suburbia, and the blissful trappings of neat, clean picket fences, neatly trimmed green grass, and the warn, enveloping scent of bright, colourful flowers, he felt completely out-of-sorts.

The small garden-variety gnome understood why. It had been the fervent wish of the small child, in the back of her parents’ car, for him to come to life, and play with her. She could have plucked any gnome, or indeed any other form of garden decoration, but somehow, she had fixed on his bright red, pointy hat, thick, white bushy beard, and his little blue raincoat. Somehow, he had been chosen for the gift of life, and now he instinctively sought out the little girl, compelled to make her wish come true.

The people in suits and ties and skirts and jackets all gave him most peculiar looks. Some recoiled, as though horrified, and others could not disguise their flabbergasted stares. The gnome pulled his tiny coat tight, and kept to the very side of the lengthy, and grubby sidewalk, making himself as diminutive as possible. He did his best to ignore the confused and wary glances of the humans, and let the wish guide him where he needed to go. Twice, stray cats swiped at him, forcing him to flee as fast as his tiny legs would allow, and once, a small, yappy dog tried to bite him, and earnt itself a bop on the nose for its troubles.

Onward he went. The gnome reached the apartments, and faced his greatest nemesis: stairs. Thick, red brick stairs, each as tall as he, barred his path. He sighed, and leaned against the first step, looking to the heavens, which had taken the form of dark grey storm clouds. Drops of rain fell from the sky, and splattered across both the sidewalk, and the gnome. He sighed again, turned around, and reached up with his ceramic hands to try and haul himself up the stairs. Failing to reach the top, he grumbled, and kicked the air out of frustration.

In that moment, it was as though the power of the wish would not be denied. A man opened the door to the apartment block, and shook a large, old grey rug. Dust scattered, and passers-by snarled at the sudden expulsion of filth, but the gnome saw a chance. He grabbed onto the tassels, and as the man pulled the rug back inside, the gnome was carried with it, into the building, by-passing the inconvenient stairs. He scurried to the elevators, and squeezed inside one, right before the silver door clamped shut.

A new conundrum presented itself. The gnome could not reach the buttons! He jumped, as best he could, several times, but lacked the means to press them. Irritated, the gnome slunk into a corner, once again feeling defeated. In the warm air of the elevator, the gnome looked for anything to offer hope, anything that would permit him to fulfil the little girl’s wish, but there was nothing to obtain a purchase on, no way to lift himself higher.

It seemed life wanted him to succeed. An elderly man, with a kind, weather-worn face, and a long, thin grey beard, hobbled into the elevator. He made eye contact with the gnome, who froze, but fear turned to intrigue at the old man’s warm smile.

“Where you tryin’ to go, my friend?” the man said.

“Um, the fourth floor, sir,” the gnome answered, surprised he even had a voice. The old man winked, and tapped the button.

“Up we go.”

The elevator lurched with a weird metallic groan, and began to rise. The gnome watched the indicator change, rising through the levels, and felt the thud through his tiny shoes when it stopped. The door slid open, revealing a well-trodden blue carpet, and the mixed smells of fresh baking, and old grease. The old man waved a hand at the door.

“This is you, good luck.”

“Thank you, sir,” the gnome enthused, and trotted from the elevator. His instinct led him to round a corner, and another, carrying him past several big, brown wooden doors, until he reached apartment 9. He tapped the door, three times, and heard footsteps, young and eager.

“Mommy, there’s someone at the door!” he heard a girl’s voice excitedly exclaim. The gnome felt his heart swell, for he knew he had found his purpose, he knew he had found his home.

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Welcome back to the Meerkat Muse! What’s been happening?

A Cheesy Valentine’s Day

I mean that quite literally. Well, sort of. The day before Valentine’s, my wife and I shared mac ‘n’ cheese, in two different forms. Was it the most glamorous Valentine’s Day meal? Hardly, but we didn’t really have the opportunity to make the most of the day itself, albeit for a very good reason. You see, the day itself was particularly entertaining, for a different reason. My wife, daughter and I took a trip to London on the Friday, to see Inside Number 9 on stage. The TV series is an anthology show, written by Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. The series is a combination of dark comedy, subtle horror, dramatic twists, and at times, quite heart-wrenching emotion. It is sometimes tempting to refer to it as a comedy series, but in fact, it is anything but a comedy show, for the aforementioned reasons,

Seeing it on stage would provide a different, more intimate form of entertainment, but the question ahead of the show was: would it be any good?!

The answer is an emphatic yes. It was a very funny show, punctuated with the jump-scares and twists that have turned Inside Number 9 into a cult classic. It was thoroughly brilliant, and if you are a fan of the macabre, as well as laughter, it is worth checking out!

Oh, my wife got me a terrific card, one that isn’t too far away from the truth…

Speaking of the wife…

The Belching Wife!

My wife tends to drink sparkling water more than regular water, which by her own admission she finds hard to drink. That’s fair enough, but of late there’s been a telling, and rather loud consequence, to her water of choice. She has been routinely producing some of the most epic burps I have ever heard, even at one point managing to burp the world burp, if that makes sense!

You’d think this is horrifying, but it is in fact an endless source of entertainment!

The Spider Incident

The other morning, as I was getting ready for work, I was joined by an eight-legged companion, that was crawling up my work shirt. I shook my shirt to shake off the unwanted guest, and went to brush my teeth. Said companion reappeared on my arm. I shook my arm, and it vanished, only for me to feel something crawling up my neck! The spider was now heading across my neck, to destinations unknown. I shook it loose, and it disappeared, only this time it did not return.

I don’t mind spiders. I think they are useful at dealing with pests, such as flies. That said, I am not especially fond of having them crawling around on me. It’s somewhat unsettling, even if I know the typical house spider can’t inflict serious harm. I guess this is something of an ancient instinct, a throwback to the era where our ancestors might have been vulnerable to a spider of sufficient danger. I had an itchy sensation for the remainder of the day!

The Church and the Moon

I’m not entirely certain as to the reason, but a local church displayed a model – a large model – of the Moon from its rafters. It was highly detailed, with the craters and markings all present and correct. Seeing it formed part of a busy Tuesday, the day before my scheduled trip to the north. We visited a local craft shed, where my daughter did some painting, and after grabbing something to eat, we went to the cinema, to check out the latest Captain America movie.

Was it a good movie? Well, it was alright, which is more than I can say for some Marvel Cinematic Universe projects. It felt like a Hulk movie, as much as a Captain America movie, make of that what you will.

Going North

In my previous Muse, I referenced a trip to Wakefield, for training. There are a great many reasons why I was not thrilled with this. For starters, it entailed a three-hour train ride. Actually, that’s not too bad. I like a train ride! However, I prefer it to be on my terms, and this was anything but. My recent ruminations on whether or not to stick or twist with my current employer have eased, but the idea has not completely faded. With that in mind, trips and overnight stays for work purposes carry a faintly redundant air for me. I guess I should appreciate the chance to see head office.

The geek in me was delighted to travel up on an Intercity 225 set, hauled by a class 91.

I do love an Intercity 225 set!

The training itself actually felt quite worthwhile. There are plans – some of them tentative, others more concrete – which have me potentially excited. A lot depends on who can influence who. There are certainly opportunities, and I do feel a bit more invigorated, as far as the job is concerned. I’ll still keep an eye on the job market, simply because it’s prudent.

With the trip completed, and following a long journey home (which included disruption on the Underground, thanks to trespassers on the line), it was back to the routine. In fact, by a quirk of the schedule, I was lone-trading the day after the trip! Needless to say, I was sort of keen to put my training into practice, but also very tired, and largely not in the mood for people. Unfortunately, I’d scheduled an appointment for 10am that morning! It was faintly wrong of me to hope they would rearrange, but I really wasn’t up for it! Fortunately, they did not turn up. Unfortunately, a family with two loud, fidgety children did. Fortunately, they did not linger.

My lethargy continued into the afternoon. I just could not shake it. I’m pretty sure that once upon a time, I could burn the candle at both ends, but it is abundantly clear that time is long one.

A Busy Week

With the weekend out of the way, and with a few discussions and quotes under my belt, I looked toward the week with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. I had to visit a customer on Monday, and that is not generally ideal, as getting to customers is not always easy. Still, this customer insisted on a home measure, and thus it fell to me to carry it out. In the end, the visit was not too bad, and an appointment is booked for next week to follow up. What I do face this week, are a couple of days of lone-trading, though there is the promise of my friend, former boss, and on-going colleague being there. Well, I say promise, he cannot guarantee his presence, but it seems likely.

The Chance to Promote!

I don’t yet know when, or even if, this will definitely happen, but I reached out to a local radio station, and it looks like I have a tentative agreement to have a radio interview, about The Awakening! Needless to say, this is a great opportunity for some advertising, as it were. My wife often tells me I have a face for radio, so this works nicely! I’ll share more on this, as and when it happens.

The Contract

My publisher, Jumpmaster Press, have officially taken on my next project, The Forest! I have signed the contract, scanned it, and sent it back, and will post back a paper copy at the first available opportunity. I am delighted! I have also breached 10,000 words on the third, and final part, of the Chon’ith Saga. I still need to work out how to wrap that story. I fear it will be emotional.

So we reach the end of this Muse. What awaits over the course of the next two weeks? Tune in next time!

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There’s an old saying, ‘birds of a feather flock together’. It certainly seems that Donald Trump is flocking with like-minded individuals, when you pause to reflect upon recent United Nations votes.

https://news.sky.com/story/amp/europeans-win-in-un-clash-with-us-over-rival-resolutions-on-ukraine-war-13316417

In recent days, Trump’s America has voted in line with Russia and North Korea, over resolutions about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Whilst Trump calls Ukraine’s leader, President Zelenskyy, a dictator, the wannabe tyrant is cosying up to a true dictator in every sense of the word. There is nothing redeemable about the policies and practices of Vladimir Putin, who has crushed virtually all dissenting voices in Russia, and moved to ruthlessly control the narrative of Russia’s media. For Trump to call Zelenskyy a dictator whilst moving to defend Putin’s interests, is hypocrisy of the highest order, and a demonstration of the sort of leadership Trump values most.

It’s not wrong to desire peace in Ukraine, but that peace should be on Ukraine’s terms. Remember, Russia invaded, and it’s Russia that has launched countless missiles at Ukrainian cities, devastating entire communities. It’s hardly the act of a dictator to offer to step down, in exchange for security guarantees for his people, and this is what Zelenskyy has offered to do. Can you imagine Putin offering to give up his power for the good of Russia? Can you imagine Trump making such an offer? Of course not. Trump is acting in lockstep with Putin (and let’s not forget his America has voted in line with another barbaric regime, Kim Jong Un’s North Korea).

If it were up to Trump, Putin would get everything he wants out of Ukraine, and Trump would leave open the possibility of Russia invading again. It is painfully obvious that Trump is no friend of democracy, but instead, a buddy to dictators.

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It’s time for the Odd Prompt! Today’s prompt for me is from Nother Mike, who brings forth a query about dragons and sweatshirts. Let us see how we can sink our teeth into this one…

***

Jarago, Blood Lord of All, Keeper of the Death Chalice, and the Maker of Widows, impatiently tapped his foot, and folded his arms, being sure to show off how impressively large his muscles were. They threatened to bulge right through his shirt, and he hoped the line in front of him would be suitably intimidated enough to let him skip the maddeningly slow queue. Alas, no one so much as turned around, much less pay him attention. The humans, in their dull grey shirts, trousers, skirts and jackets, were fixed to their phones, or ogling the myriad collection of brightly-coloured cakes and pastries in the coffee shop.

Where has the respect gone? Where is the fear?

Jarago recalled a conversation with Lurge, the Ocean Master, and Sinker of Hope, about the decline in appreciation of dragons, and other mythical creatures. Lurge had bemoaned how downtrodden he felt, and Jarago had been powerless to ease his friend’s misery, for he shared their emotions. As the queue for coffee slowly shuffled forward, he cursed the day humans had decided powerful, strong entities like himself were the stuff of children’s fables. I should be ruling these peons, not entertaining them!

On the flipside, Jarago looked down at his expensive gold Rolex, and remembered that he owned the rights to his image and titles. At least I get royalties from these stupid apes.

His mood lightened only in part by the regular financial rewards, Jarago grumbled as someone staggered into him, in turn forcing him into bumping the slender human woman in front of him. She turned around, initially wearing a face like thunder, but she paused, and trained chocolate-brown eyes on him, looking him up and down. Jarago rolled his own eyes. The ‘other’ image problem. I am a powerful and deadly dragon, not a sex symbol!

The lady’s lustful look lingered longer than Jarago liked, and he glowered at her, until she took the hint, and faced forward. He shot a glance behind him, and a mousey-looking man, with messy brown hair, looked at him through frightened green eyes. Jarago bared his rows of razor-sharp teeth, and took an evil pleasure from the man’s increased anxiety. He turned back to face forward, and the queue inched forward, placing him within range of the baguettes and sandwiches. Jarago eyed a ham and cheese baguette with great interest, and his stomach rumbled. The lady in front of him thought she discretely snuck another peak, but he noticed, and he shot her a look of anger. Annoyingly, she seemed undeterred.

Irritated beyond belief, Jarago grabbed the baguette, and now the till was in sight, along with the promise of a rich, hot coffee. His sensitive nose sucked in the gorgeous aroma, and he sighed from unfathomable relief as the creepy lady collected her order and left, albeit she brushed by him far too closely for his comfort. Jarago sighed, and stepped to the till.

“Do you want that warmed up, sir?” the barista asked. Jarago grinned.

“I can take care of that myself, thanks,” he snorted a puff of smoke from his flaring nostrils, for emphasis. The young man in the apron apprehensively nodded.

Slightly less stressed, Jarago walked out of the coffee shop, and onto the busy London pavement. He checked his watch, and shoved his hand in his pocket, whereupon he felt something that had not been there before. He pulled out a small business card, and turned it over in his hand.

“Madam Fence, Purveyor of Pleasure and Pain for Mythical Creatures,” he said aloud, and realised several passers-by were within earshot. He sheepishly shoved the card, complete with its suggestive imagery, back into his pocket. “Oh, I bet it was her, how dare she assume something like that.”

Jarago shoved his thoughts back inside his head, and strolled under the rising July sun toward his apartment. He paused a few times, to offer cash to other legendary creatures who had fallen on harder times than he. Anger swelled in his soul once more, at the imbalance, and the injustice. He resolved to offer them employment, and mentally ran through his plan for vengeance. By the time he had reached his apartment block, and travelled up the lift to his floor, Jarago’s rage had reached a fever-pitch, and he tossed his jacket on the back of the chair at his breakfast bar, ready to unleash his fury upon the unforgiving, ignorant world.

The ‘business’ card fell to the floor, and he scooped it up. He intended to hurl it into the bin, but in his stress, Jarago paused. On the back of the card, the siren had written of ‘relief’, and as he trembled with his dark emotions, he reflected on whether or not he deserved an opportunity to vent. It has been a while…

Toying with the idea of making a call, despite his initial annoyance at the presumptions made by Madam Fence, Jarago picked up his phone, and dialled the number. A woman’s sultry voice answered.

“You have reached Madam’s Fence’s office of pleasure and pain, how may we help you?”

“I, uh, I’d like to book an appointment, if I may,” he began, surprisingly nervous.

“Of course, sir. Do you have any specific allergies or species requirements we need to be aware of?”

“Just one, both, uh, literally and metaphorically, I, ah, don’t like being trodden on, especially on my tail. I even have that on a sweater,”

“That’s cute. I’ll tell Madam Fence not to walk all over you, at least not too much. We can slot you in this afternoon, 2pm?”

“That, um, works for me,” Jarago replied.

“Excellent. See you there, and enjoy,” The line went dead, and Jarago breathed out. I’d better wear that sweater.

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For this week’s Odd Prompt, I am borrowing from the spares, and asking who let the werewolves out?

****

The arresting officer raged, stalking back and forth in front the chief, who shook his head, and tapped his desk.

“Sit down, Reg, and calm down, there’s no point in all this, this fury. I get it, you’re angry, but as guilty as we both know they are, we can’t pin this on them.”

Reginald Curtis paused, patted down his tweed jacket, and set his unshaven self down in the chair in front of the desk. He met the chief’s eyes.

“This is so damn unfair boss, one little manipulation, and the whole lot of them walk free?”

“I know, and believe me, I am pretty angry too, but what do you want to do? Falsify records, trick the system? They’re lawyers, Reg, they know the game, perhaps better than we do.”

Reg looked away, toward the door leading back out into the precinct. He caught a glimpse of an enthusiastically wagging, fluffy white tail, and he wanted to storm over to it and yank it.

“They’ve taken over this town, we might as well work for them,” Reg muttered.

“No, no way, it’s one thing to be angry, but I will not have you being defeatist, not in my precinct, not under my watch. Close the door Reg, so we can talk privately.”

Reg hauled himself up from the chair, and resisted slamming the door, choosing to gently close it instead. He sat back down.

“Look, I’m sorry, Chief, this is just driving me nuts. You got any idea how long it took to put that case together?”

“Yeah, I know, and believe me, I’m feelin’ sick right now, but we play this smart, no reckless moves.”

Reg shook his head. “How do we outsmart these guys? They’re super cunning! It’s like it’s bred into their DNA, which let’s face it, it probably is.”

The chief raised a meaty finger. “Reg, you might have hit on the answer. They’re creatures of cunning, but also more, shall we say, instinctive, right? So we prey on their instincts. They’re wolves, what can’t wolves resist?”

Reg blankly stared at the chief, who rolled his eyes. “What can’t dogs resist, not usually?”

“Um, belly rubs?”

“No! Food! They can’t resist food!”

Understanding dawned for Reg. He slapped his forehead. “Ah, but still, luring them somewhere doesn’t mean we can pin a crime on them, that’s entrapment boss, it will never stick in court, and they know it,” he gritted his teeth. “Sir, I am the last person to want to say this, but we don’t have a choice, we have to let the werewolves out. We have to play this smart, but let me work the case, let me build it, I’ll make it airtight, I promise.”

The chief sat back in his chair, and stared at Reg for several seconds, then nodded.

“Do what you need to, don’t stop till we have those hounds behind bars, where they belong.”

Reg returned the nod, and stood up. He resolved that not a single werewolf would escape his grasp, ever again.

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Under the supposed guise of improving efficiency by reducing government waste, Donald Trump commissioned an entirely new government department. The Department of Government Efficiency sounds like the sort of prowling dystopian agency you might expect to read of in 1984, but the truth rests more with incompetence than deliberate malice. Well, I guess the jury is out on that one, since it could conceivably be a combination of both.

I have digressed. First of all, there is something ironic about creating an entirely new government department in order to tackle the alleged excesses of government. Perhaps even more ironic is that the man heading this department, Elon Musk, has a track record for inefficiency. Musk has wasted huge sums of money on his SpaceX project, overseeing countless, costly failures, and similar maladies have afflicted his Tesla business, with production problems and hardware faults being common. He has run Twitter into the ground, operating under the belief that you can fire people en masse, and this will somehow boost ‘efficiency’ (which in Musk’s mind, merely equates to ‘profit’).

Already there are consequences to this unfounded belief that cutting jobs will boost efficiency. After scores of workers were fired from the National Nuclear Security Administration, the US government scrambled to rehire them, realising their importance, but only after their initial mistake. To make matters worse, due to the closure of security clearances and other administrative blunders, there have been problems tracking down these workers! How many others, in positions of importance, are losing their jobs because of a misguided concept about efficiency from two rather incompetent businessmen?

Let’s be realistic here, this is not about efficiency, and it never was. It’s about tying Musk to the machines of power, and granting him a lot of access to a lot of stuff he should not have access to.

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Those of you who use Google Maps will perhaps be aware of a recent change of name. The Gulf of Mexico now has another title, the Gulf of America, thanks to pressure from the Arrogance-in-Chief, Donald Trump. Now, so far this is only via Google Maps (Apple Maps and Bing have not added the additional title to their systems, at least not yet), but doesn’t this speak of remarkable hubris, and perhaps just a hint of envy?

It is of no surprise that some people are celebrating, with some colourful remarks no less. Some of these people are supposedly good, pious Christians, who have nonetheless taken it upon themselves to gleefully – and crudely – note this change. I won’t be naming names, not at this stage, but suffice to say, one particular person has displayed some remarkable disegenity before, or to look at it another way, they’ve shown a complete lack of self-awareness. If you want to understand more, see Ark’s post on the subject.

Returning to the subject at hand, why has the fragile-egoed tangerine tyrant pursued changing the name of the Gulf of Mexico? Well, ego more or less sums it up, just as it sums him up. What fundamental difference does it make, except to someone who is more concerned with appearances? This is pathetic preening at its finest, and I cannot believe Google have indulged it. Worse, Google as a company has proven equally fragile, removing negative feedback on the name change, and blocking reviews of their decision. It’s stepping on history, for the sake of hubris.

Hopefully history will remember this move for what it truly is, and reject it.

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Not for the first time, I find myself drawing inspiration from the simply brilliant Rawi Woof, via our interactions over at Mastodon (check out my profile here). Rawi responded to a post of mine with an observation, and that observation, which also links to this prior post of mine, form’s the subject matter of this particular article.

Before, I had posed the question, ‘does anyone truly earn a billion dollars?’ Rawi responded, with ‘If someone claims so, a nice follow-up question would be: “At whose expense?” Sadly we can often figure out the disturbing answer.’

He has hit the nail on the proverbial head, so to speak.

To illustrate this point, check out this Guardian article from August 2024, discussing the disparity between CEO wages and the average wage. In the UK, CEOs were being paid, on average, 120 times that of the average full-time UK worker, in 2023. This Unite post shares how profits of corporations have risen a lot faster than wages, leading to rampant, unchecked profiteering, which benefits no one except those at the top of those companies, and their shareholders. In real terms, people are earning less, whilst those at the top get more richer. This is a blatant case of theft. In this scenario, Peter – the average worker – is struggling to make ends meet, staring down the barrel of increased costs, and not receiving a pay rise to even compensate for that, whilst their boss – Paul – is awarding himself bonuses and pay-outs, off the back of Peter’s labour.

Despite this obviously flawed and broken system, some people, even those who are of the very working class exploited by this system, continue to stubbornly defend it. At this point, I can only assume there is a strong measure of indoctrination/brainwashing at play. Celebrating this kind of uncontrolled corporate greed, usually at the expense of the working class, suggests something seriously wrong with those who fete the exploitative billionaires. Of course people should have the opportunity to earn money, but that opportunity is being denied to most, because those at the top won’t pay a fair wage. Enough is enough where the excuse of inflation is concerned, because this oft-cited, rarely-demonstrated bogeyman has not stopped massive wage hikes for CEOs and executives.

It’s long past time for this broken system to change.

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Is the above information not rather frightening? Does it not go to show how much unfettered greed has hurt the progress of the human race?

Let’s look at this again, from the 2024 Forbes Rich List. The top 10 billionaires could contribute $1.542 trillion to various causes, and all would still be billionaires. If you add billionaires 11-20 to that list, you have a pot worth $2.459 trillion.

To place this into some context, the charity UNWFP estimates it would cost $40 billion a year to end world hunger by 2030 (based on an article written in 2022). That’s $320 billion, or just under 21% of what the world’s ten richest people could achieve, if inclined to be altruistic. It’s 13% of the top twenty, to add some additional context.

What about other social problems, such as homelessness? A 2021 HUD article estimates that it would cost $20 billion a year to end homelessness in the USA by 2030. considering eight of the Forbes top ten billionaires are US-based (14 of the top 20), it seems like the money is there, no? Keep in mind, I am basing these numbers off the top 20 billionaires on the rich list, there are many other billionaires on the list, so the funds, assuming we left each billionaire with $1 billion, would in fact be even greater.

To look at this another way, the top 1% have more wealth than the bottom 95% combined.

Now, some people might say ‘Ben, these people earned their wealth, it is unfair to take it away, least of all to untrustworthy governments’. The thing is, these people often haven’t earned their wealth. No one earns billions of dollars. A lot of people working for these multi-billionaires are why there are billionaires; that, and inherited income, rafts of lawyers striking deals, and other, less intensive means of ‘work’. I don’t doubt the ingenuity of some billionaires, but to pretend they are self-made, or that they work as hard as those under them, is to be ignorant.

Is it fair to take away their wealth? Well, the very people who would say it’s unfair are people who rather ironically, are either the extremely wealthy (who naturally don’t support doing anything that might slightly impede their wealth), or those who are heavily indoctrinated to both distrust the government, and paradoxically trust the wealthy. No one particularly likes taxes, but how else would we fund important infrastructure? Do people want functioning roads, emergency services, water and power? Do people want schools and hospitals and railways? By what mechanism would these be funded, if not via taxation of some form? Should we rely on the altruism and charity of the wealthy?

It is painfully obvious that to rely on the generosity of people like Elon Musk would be a form of folly. Musk has comfortably demonstrated that he is in it for himself. The same is true of most of these super-rich types. They look after themselves, and have little to no interest in doing anything for the benefit of others, unless it also somehow benefits them. The expectation that we can rely on charity to handle problems of global poverty, homelessness, hunger and disease is a fantasy. The concept of trickle-down economics filling the coffers of the working class has never come close to coming true, in all the decades that the idea has been bandied about.

Why do people choose to trust these billionaires, more so than they would trust their own government? Who do they think billionaires work for? The average person? Clearly not. They horde wealth for the sake of it, whilst others – sometimes their own employees – cannot put food on the table, or pay for expensive-but-vital medical treatment. Worse, they manipulate others into thinking this is somehow a good thing, that the accruement of money is a virtuous pursuit, even if others have to fall by the wayside to do so. This is not to say that entrusting anything and everything to government hands is wise, or even necessary, and the quality of governments certainly vary. Some I would trust more than others. I certainly do not trust billionaires to act in my interests, and I am baffled that anyone would believe otherwise.

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We’re back, baby! It’s the middle of February, where are we at?

Hilarious Food

My wife has a tendency to get creative with food, in a most unusual way, generally for the purpose of drawing a laugh from my daughter. Below is her latest effort:

I do rather love my wife’s unique takes on these things!

Going up North

I’m staring down the barrel of a lengthy trip up north, for reasons that may be of benefit, but equally, it may be a colossal waste of time. I could do without it, but on the other hand, train journey. It’s all to do with training on install sales, and to be fair, there are elements here that I think could be of value, but it feels like a very long day is ahead of me, and I honestly don’t know how much I’ll take from it. I like train rides, so there’s that, and there’s a hotel stay, which is always a bit of a novelty, but what with other considerations, do I really need this hassle?

I spoke to my wife about whether I should stick or twist, so to speak, in terms of employers. She is risk-adverse, so believes I am better off staying put, and that is the guidance I will go with, unless new variables give me cause to rethink. This also means this trip up north is unavoidable.

I don’t know precisely when it will happen. It might be later this month, or it might be in March or April. I guess I should be prepared, one way or another.

Tolerance

It sounds paradoxical to complain about company on a day of lone-trading, but sometimes, I really don’t mind the alone time. In fact sometimes, I prefer it. Not all the time, of course not, but there are occasions where I do not want or need human interaction. It is typically those occasions where I wind up with interactions I do not want or need.

This is not to say I do not like the people I work with, because I consider them to be friends, but there are times when I really just want to be left alone, times where I am not in the mood to be chatty, and times where solitude is my friend. I am frustrated by the way in which sometimes, people do not understand or grasp this. My tolerance for certain aspects of human behaviour is occasionally stretched very thin.

Love

I dare say my wife and I have a particular love language. In this instance, as we approach Valentine’s Day, it involves a mutual passion: tattoos. There is a word, used in Star Trek, Imzadi. It is a Betazoid word, meaning ‘beloved’. What better way to reaffirm our relationship and our love, than a permanent reminder of what we mean to each other, based on something we are both passionate about?

My tattoo is the black ink, my wife’s is in blue. I think they compliment each other rather well!

Love is an interesting, challenging, at times infuriating emotion. It can drive you absolutely insane, and there is a lot of truth in the old saying, about the ones you love hurting you the most, and vice versa. Still, love endures. What also endures is my love of tattoos, and having now reached nine, I am pondering how to mark reaching 10.

Might tattoo 10 be meerkat related?

Stressful Days

Work continues to deliver, well, a lack of satisfaction. I feel somewhat awkward, because we have just taken on a new starter, who certainly strikes me as pleasant, but in the midst of doing so, here I am, actively looking for new pastures. Still, I have to do what’s best for me and mine. With that in mind, I also do not want to leap at the first chance, because that may not be the best chance. I also have to consider whether or not to stay in some form of retail sales role.

Fraud

Part of this journey up north means I had to book hotels and trains the other day. My understanding of the hotel is that they would take payment either a few days before I arrive, or on the day itself (payment on arrival is quite a common policy). I was therefore surprised – to put it mildly – by a text from my bank, warning there had possibly been fraudulent activity on my account. The peculiar element to all of this? The value of the supposedly dodgy payment was exactly the same was the cost of the hotel room. However, when I spoke to the hotel, they told me they had not tried to take a payment, and to their understanding, I would pay on arrival.

With that in mind, I called my bank back, and they put a stop to my existing bank card. This is a bit of a pain, since that card is tied to quite a few services! Still, I would rather get a new card, than risk further fraud attempts, particularly fraud attempts that manage to succeed. It is better to be safe than sorry.

Book Three

So, The Schism is on the way, and I will happily update all you good ‘kats as soon as I have more details, but in the meantime, I have submitted a new book to my publisher, which I have referenced a couple of times. The Forest (a working title, not set in stone) is a story of ruthless ambition, and the cost it can exact. That’s all I can give away right now, and there’s a long way to go before it’s ready, but it’s great to have it out there. In the meantime, I have started work in earnest on part three of the Chon’ith Saga. The Reckoning (again, a working title) will hopefully serve up a thrilling and dramatic conclusion to the journey I started, some six years ago this year.

It’s kind of emotional to think that I am now in the process of closing out this saga. I have some tough decisions to make, and some considerations over whether to stick to the original plan. In the first run of this story, certain characters met with certain fates, but now I am undecided as to what direction to dive into. It is impossible to not grow attached to your characters. They are, in some respects, extensions of one’s self, creations you pour your heart into. On the other hand, the story is also something you develop and grow, and fulfilling the story can only happen through the characters. One thing is for sure, there are some tough choices ahead of me!

Oh, speaking of The Schism, the final, beta-read version arrived in my inbox on Monday. We are definitely moving closer to publishing!

Thus we come to the end of another Muse cycle. There’s a few activities of intrigue due up next time, but no fast-forwarding, stay tuned!

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