Wednesday, November 20, 2013

"Little pots of toasted death..."

On Saturday night, I stumbled across Dylan Moran on the television, recorded live in London.  I love his work, his humour, and his use of the language.  I particularly loved "Anyone who's given up on God or the devil has never been properly kissed, or travelled on RyanAir with a hangover." 

These days I guess you could substitute any Australian domestic carrier for 'RyanAir', since any of the possible fun which used to occur in flying has been sucked out by security checks, squishy small seats in cattle class, and restrictions on everything. I haven't flown with a hangover for eons, decades - last century.  I have been properly kissed: it didn't necessarily change my views on God or the devil, but I understand what he meant.

Sometimes the simplest things are the purest definitions of heaven or hell, perfection or putrefaction. Little things, going out to the garden and digging up some potatoes and picking some fresh beans.  Re-reading a favorite book, or finding a new favorite book. (No-one says you should only have one favorite book.) A big hug from a dear friend you haven't seen for a long time. Someone who makes you smile. A sunny morning after some rain. These would fall on the heaven equivalent side.

Maybe we should spend more time noticing those things, and less time wanting bigger, newer, better, more expensive. Coco Chanel said that the best things in life are free, it's the second best things which are really expensive.

Nice Mr Moran went on to do a very clever impression of a man in the morning: eyes closed, inequitable blood distribution, needing a pee. There was a Frankenstein's monster likeness, not sure which side that falls on. He made me laugh, though. 

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