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Cadwell NOT Caldwell

Smug Tortoise Tired Hare

[3 minute read ] 

I can't work out if the wind plays in my garden or badgers and muntjac. Sometimes plant pots are scattered across the garden; definitely not a lawn, a garden. I don't do manicured. I would be delighted if animals are using my garden to romp and tumble and even drink from the bucket of water with mosquito larvae in it, or from the broken plastic storage box half-filled with green algae-ridden water. The gloopiness of this water is a bit much I think, even for a thirsty brock. 

I know muntjac deer get in my garden; they leave tell-tales in Winter when food is scarce. The strawberry plants are lifted from the near-frozen ground and the Euonymus shrubs get eaten as far up as a small deer can reach. They also leave little pellets that resemble what a rabbit might leave after it has finished digesting food. I feel for them, they are hungry at a time when there is not much for them to eat. What can you do? Attract the local population of mammals by leaving out buckets of food? Not on your Nelly? Whereas generosity for most people stops at their front door, for me it stops at my back garden gate. The front of my home is different.

On the pavement outside my home is where the polite people move. They cautiously nod but most of the time they try not to say, 'Good Morning'. Social protocol, which is something I hated as a teenager largely because I didn't understand it, compels these reluctant persons to answer a cheery greeting, but their tiny glance that slips through their armour gives credence to a supposition that they have already noticed someone else in their immediate vicinity. They are not surprised by the presence of another person; they do not even need to check or examine the aspect or visage of the person to know who it is. They have already decided to ignore something, but they can't. They cannot help but glance. If they do not at least acknowledge the cheery person they outwardly show their contempt. That is where their politeness is. That is where the generosity ends. An hierarchy of existence has formed in their heads. One that I suspect is instinctive but I know is also fashioned, though not deliberately; it is certainly unfettered and not at all considered. 

If they see a tramp, which is the romantic form of a homeless person, they stop their dogs from sniffing nearby and hurry on. Their breakfast of filtered coffee and bacon and eggs is safe in their bellies and they are sated. Not experiencing need in the moment they have no compassion for others. 'I'm alright, Jack!' So, you must be too. Sadly, the dog aggressively pulled away from the scene has a better understanding of things and doesn't judge the fallen people to be any different to the ivory-tower dwellers pulling at the end of their leashes. They are pleased to meet people and, after all, a tail-wag is free.

People don't like outliers. They don't like things that are not average. They have animals as pets but they don't understand animals. They like things that are marketed as safe and reliable, even if realistically, they are inherently not safe. They like to imagine having an exciting life but, I suspect, they wouldn't like to live it. It takes a lot of effort to be interesting and average people tend to seek average activities. Selling their houses to buy a yacht to sail the world as a sea-gypsy is just not on the cards. Anyone who has done that and then come back is not someone they can stand. Their conversation is different; it comes from a different perspective, from a deeper understanding of fear, joy, relief and what it is to really succeed; to survive against tremendous odds through the use of personal skills, attributes and characteristics. 

It doesn't matter if someone has climbed a mountain or swam the English Channel if they are out of shape today. The race is still being run and the slim man or woman who has done nothing is the tortoise compared to the hare. Ultimately, they believe they have won. Smug tortoises fail to see tired hares.