Uneasiness

At this hour of the night, having finished my packing and done the major prescriptive shopping of the outsider who lives in London, I feel somewhat uneasy about my flight or no-flight tomorrow morning. It is a sort of mild anxiety I have been sensing for the last 2-3 days.

I hate lines and places overcrowded and jams and people sprawls, all that make me sour, and can do it actually tomorrow, as the probabilities of a major inconvenience are high.

Perhaps, I should take these things not serious at all.

I could not say for past Christmas, but this year I really look forward to coming back home and be around my parents (especially) and my sister and rest of the family and friends for a few days. Good company, true wishes with good wine, good food and relax. I guess this is what we meant by home, when we say home.

Ok, I am going to bed. This issue with the plain disruption in London airports have made me reflect again about solidarity, a term absolutely manipulated, abused and prostituted. To dig deeply for its original sense we all should plunge money any time we say the word as to get the foliage cleared out the way. I might try to write something these coming days and put together two or three ideas, now that it is The Season.

And there is another couple of thoughts to write down now here, but are not well-settled, am tired and, as I said, feel a little uneasy.

So
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse run up the clock;
The clock struck one;
The mouse ran down;
Hickory, dickory, dock


Night, Night... My dear Beatrice.