Beloved had to cope with an exploding Pipe of Poo from the farm camp this week. I won’t go into details but a blockage of disgusting proportions caused a fall out of undigested sweetcorn right across my lawn. I couldn’t help thinking it was a bit of a metaphor for all that forced optimism that keeps me writing into the dead of night and came spewing back up, in a fit of negativity, this week.
Kind words from my facebook friends have somewhat assuaged my Hiccup of Doubt but the question remains. How do we know if we are deluding ourselves? Someone should invent a deludometer. You could sell them in the queue outside the X-factor auditions.
I’d buy one.