The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

Brutalisation of the Furlongs


Mr Furlong and I are both up. It’s the middle of the night!

We couldn’t sleep.

The TV is on. Mr Furlong is working out how to use a little machine that interprets languages – it’s old-fashioned and frustratingly difficult to figure out.

I’m updating our Tom Tom Sat Nav via my computer.

On the TV, they are rescuing survivors and finding dead bodies in the Taiwanese earthquake.

They are rescuing survivors and finding dead bodies in the waters off Greece.

The world is panicking about nuclear war from a rogue North Korea.

In our area here in the North West, the weather is going to be foul.

There are new dramas coming up on TV that show extreme violence.

Daesh are beheading people.

David Cameron is still making an idiot of himself, thinking he can negotiate with our masters, the EU.

We’ve heard nothing uplifting in an hour.

And soon we are going to bed again, to sleep, perchance to dream.

But we won’t be worrying much about anything that we’ve been drip-fed repeatedly on TV tonight, and indeed day after day, after day – we see SO much, we’ve been brutalised!

Shocking, really.


Author: Elizabeth

I'm someone also pounding the Path, just like you.. I'm retired, going into Old Age and loving my life. I'm hoping to remain happy and well for as long as possible. Old Age is not SO bad - yet!

6 thoughts on “Brutalisation of the Furlongs

  1. That is the sad thing. No one is really shocked anymore. Fortunately, or not, I am watching the decline of Britain from the other side of The Channel.

    But the glorious British Government have nicked my Winter Fuel Allowance by including all of the French Overseas Territories, mostly in the vicinity of Africa, in the average temperature of France.
    Much good may my 200 Quid do them.


    • Very wiley creatures are the Government! Sly as foxes. Sorry about your winter fuel allowance.


      • Yer, me too. That 200 Quid made a difference between worrying about being cold, and not worrying.
        The temperature in my house is at 12 degrees at the moment, with what little heating I can afford.
        Fortunately, I am a tough old cookie, and grew up a bit rough and tough. But I could almost weep for the likes of me.

        Such is Britain today. Feed and support the immigrants and leave old people to freeze or starve.

        I have had more care and concern from France than Britain ever gave me.


        • What heating do you have? Central heating? We have a wonderful cosy house house thank goodness. But I have been in other people’s houses in winter and frozen! They didn’t seem to notice the cold. I think Britain is more or less bankrupt really. If they move in on us old people, we’ll be in shit street! So I feel for you – doesn’t make for feeling “safe”. 😦


          • No, I don’t have central heating, and have never been able to afford the installation, presuming that I might have wanted it.

            I do have a massive, old French open fireplace which ups the temperature by about four degrees. But it doesn’t half burn wood, which has to be manually carted, and then frequently fed.

            It all amounts to what you can afford. And a Cord of Wood isn’t cheap.

            A Cord of Wood is three metres by one metre by one metre. But that is by the by. It is such..

            What matters is whether or not one can afford it. And how much help one might get.

            They won’t kill me off by subjecting me to penury. I am just briefly gob smacked by the apparent desire to do so.

            To take the average temperature of all eleven territories of France, is just about the pits.

            Stuff it. I wouldn’t want to live in UK if you paid me.


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