A society sunk in ignorance, and ruled by mere physical force, has great reason to rejoice when a class, of which the influence is intellectual and moral, rises to ascendancy. Such a class will doubtless abuse its power: but mental power, even when abused, is still a nobler and better power than that which consists merely in corporeal strength.

For even the mutual animosity of countries at war with each other is languid when compared with the animosity of nations which, morally separated, are yet locally intermingled. In no country has the enmity of race been carried farther than in England.

Thomas Babington Macaulay,
“The History of England, from the Accession of James II — Volume 1”

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The rain isn’t forecast to start until 10:00 am.  It’s now 4:51 am.  I’ve been up since two o’clock unable to sleep thanks to neuropathy and whatever other afflictions foster insomnia in old age. I reckon based upon the tweeting of the birds I already hear through the windows ajar in the drawing room, the sun will be up in time for me to undertake a purgative cycle before the rain starts. Meanwhile I have been spared the midnight paucity of creativity by having to download software updates for all my electronic devices – iPad, iPhone, MacBook Pro and Apple Watch. Those updates – like the “new generation” models of each of them – afford one a sense of novelty and accomplishment.  It is easy to become preoccupied with one’s devices with only the tiniest element of intellect. An accidental discovery of yet another feature on any one of them constitutes a minuscule but nonetheless tangible victory.

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To start with, there was no morning this morning. That was my dawn, a grey mournful dawn. With a much diminished gusto. And a Monday to boot! According to the unparalleled accuracy of my Apple watch – the perpetual modern accoutrement  – it was literally one minute before noon, 11:59 am when I assembled my rumpled carcass sufficiently from the virginal lair to clock my progress.  Humiliating that it was!  Well, at least it would be normally were it not for the fact that the atmosphere today – I nearly said “This morning!” – was decidedly damp, raw and uninviting, certainly not inspirational of a casual cycle about the neighbourhood as would regularly be my wont.  Instead I thought of peanut butter.

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That and getting on one’s horse and riding off in all directions are about the limits and entire account of my accomplishments today.  When there’s nothing to do it’s so very hard to get it done – especially with those inevitable complications! The quip acquires  moderate legitimacy only when spoken to those witnessing the officiating of a wedding.  Otherwise…

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Given the dearth of activity surrounding our daily agenda during the pandemic it constantly alarms me to succeed exhausted at the end of the day with a sense of having been occupied to the extreme. Nonetheless a glance back upon what has transpired affords some legitimacy to the consciousness. Though we’re already approaching 7:00 o’clock in the evening it was only moments ago I returned to the apartment; and I have just made myself a triple-strength “Izpirazione Napoli” Nespresso coffee to boost me before commencing our evening ritual. To this energetic precaution I have added 2 ml of THC laden with a majority of CBD for the dilution of my multiple “conditions” as yet unclassified but which perhaps universally relate only to what is called by the uninitiated “old age“. It is a sparsity of definition I am prepared to accept.

From the streets of Naples, the local deep-rooted coffee ritual inspired our dark roasting method in Ispirazione Napoli. The marriage of the coffee’s velvety texture and its delicious bitter aftertaste is a win to toast to with this classic Bitter Citrus Cool

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Why it is we’re so inevitably amused by snapshots from the past I shall never fully comprehend.  It’s as though after a prolonged evaporation we’re looking at something that occurred in someone else’s dream.  “How young we both were!  And the dark hair colour!  Oh my, I’d never get into that outfit now!” We may conclude we have not aged well but confidentially we know we’re here to talk about it.  Many are no longer whinnying among us!  Life has for some been a hastened passage! The spirited gems and tantalizing ingredients of an adventurous and dynamic life are for some irreverently compressed into a miniature legend. Meanwhile I fondle my own bijoux, my half-starved touch upon its carat weight, creation and burnish.

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The 19th (nineteenth) century began on January 1, 1801 (MDCCCI), and ended on December 31, 1900 (MCM). The 19th century was the ninth century of the 2nd millennium.

The 19th century saw much social change; slavery was abolished, and the First and Second Industrial Revolutions (which also overlap with the 18th and 20th centuries, respectively) led to massive urbanization and much higher levels of productivity, profit and prosperity. The Islamic gunpowder empires were formally dissolved and European imperialism brought much of South Asia, Southeast Asia and almost all of Africa under colonial rule.

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When I first saw the French Riviera I was seventeen years old.  I and my sister were in the back seat of a brand new vanilla coloured Ford LTD convertible with champagne interior driven by my father with my mother seated next to him. My parents and sister lived at the time in Stockholm, Sweden; I had just returned from boarding school at St. Andrew’s College in Aurora, Ontario. The car had been collected by my father in Rotterdam then taken to Paris where the protective gooey muck they applied to the car for its salt-sea air overseas journey was removed. A summer jaunt to the Riviera was mandatory for most Swedes who were exhausted after a winter during which the sun rises at ten o’clock in the morning and sets at two o’clock in the afternoon.

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I like big women.  There. I said it. Frankly I find the sylphlike figure of most models (and some aspiring teenage girls) strictly theatrical. Often I have marvelled at their 12″ waists while at the same time earnestly questioning when they last had anything to eat. Dieting is a such a hopeless chore and one which invariably prescribes a manifestly unhealthy nutrition. By contrast the voluptuous woman paints a sybaritic picture without the stoic reserve. All in all it is a more balanced view in my opinion. And just because a gal is a “full figured woman” that means nothing when it comes to sartorial expression. The runway is not in my opinion the correct place to display the fashion; it is a cold vernacular more suited to pouting lips and bolting movements of the Praying Mantis with their flexible necks and elongated bodies.

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At 72 years of age I am old enough to remember the Indian chief television test pattern and the subsequent Technicolor™ peacock. Not far removed from that initial acquaintance with electronic imagery was Howdy Doody (and Clarabell who I have since learned later became Captain Kangaroo) and Perry Mason (and his assistants Della Street and Paul Drake). I won’t say that either Howdy Doody or Perry Mason had a lasting ascendency in my life but without question each sowed the seed of their respective character. Strangely perhaps what ultimately won out as a preference for me was solicitor’s work not barrister’s work. My undergraduate training at Glendon Hall as a philosophy major proved paramount to the entrancing courtroom behaviour of Raymond Burr. I can only assume it is because of the winning relevance to logic and reasoning, the whole deductive thinking business.

deductive | dɪˈdʌktɪv | adjective characterized by or based on the inference of particular instances from a general law

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