It doesn’t require much novelty to elevate an otherwise mundane existence to one of complication and obstruction.  The regrettable truth is that even the most minor deviation from habit is, for those of us beyond a certain age, an incalculable disruption and inconvenience.  The image of the old dog lying comfortably by the hearth is thus an enviable alignment.

Life is nonetheless capricious.  I cannot but recall Uncle Edouard in the Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B who encountered adverse consequences of his ballooning enterprise. In the worldly life of an elegant roué one might not typically anticipate such turbulent sequel. But the point of course is that it can happen to anyone.

The more telling conclusion is that one mustn’t be perturbed by these predictable interjections in an otherwise fluid stream of incidents. It is the manifestation of life which satisfies one’s objective; not its mere completion. There is by contrast room for containment and settlement. That is, there isn’t the unabated necessity to get on one’s horse and ride off in all directions. Occasion for reduction is part of the process. The scheme of production invariably means room for modification and alteration. When that objective is achieved, hopefully there follows a period of observation distracted from involvement.

Caution is however to be observed in this wishful thinking.  Unwittingly one may descend to platitudes from which the spark of former confluence is regarded with longing and dismay. Life is indeed a “Saucy Worcester that dost not lie so still!”