Rewriting robots

Chased the new clients who, after a bit, gave me the green light on the job. While I was waiting I had started working on my novel pushing that on by a cheeky 500 words, and had yet another idea for a short story, which I just jotted down.

The rest of the day a slog, gradually rewriting and humanising a 28 page brochure previously written by a robot. Had a quick walk before lunch and then a longer one in the park after five, when my brain and eyes had given up. Ate boredom bread and jam today. Spoke to Mum, after I had finished and all being well I will zoom up to see her next week.

We are on the cusp of spring, but things are bleak beyond my own little bubble.  Brexit has been delayed, Mrs May has written to the EU to request an extension. The country and its government is quite rightly an international laughing stock, and there is no foreseeable outcome that is not dreadful. Even a so-called soft Brexit leaves us far poorer, financially of course, but also culturally and in terms of international influence. Those days when the UK could be taken even slightly seriously, are fast becoming history. Brexit is madness pure and simple. And while all these numbskull Neros fiddle, the basic infrastructure of the country is groaning under the strain of neglect and mismanagement. Meanwhile there are huge swathes of the population who persist in the delusion that pressing the self destruct button is a tremendously good idea. It is a collective madness. If it can happen in the UK here and now, it certainly helps me understand the madness that swept Germany in the 30s.

The truly appalling thing is that all this is a tiny sideshow to when compared to climate change. God help us all. The shrivelled fields I saw in Chad are coming here soon. No wonder reading horror seems like an escape into a more rational world.