Whole Heap of Judgment

[smokingboot]

There's a lot to do today. This year's major task, for the little charity we set up, has turned out to be a story-telling contest for the local schools. We got a tiny grant as part of Scotland's Year of the Story, and we're running a day long event. We were expecting about 50 entries.

There have been 400.

There's so much that's fantastic about this; the creativity of local kids, their use of vocabulary, description. dialogue... we have some factual entries but mostly it seems to be pitching towards the macabre; witches, monsters, UFOs, ghosts, demons,wars, disappearances, dinosaurs, murders, all the old tales of the hills turned into urban folklore, alive and fiercely colourful. As well as sheer admiration, I find myself endlessly laughing with the joy of these magnificent and uninhibited imaginations. But here lies the issue, cos many of these brilliant story tellers do not yet have the tools they need, and those who do, even if their vision be less bright, less original, are going to win. I see the huge differences in ability and resources to hand, the cleverly typed vs the pencilled; It's obvious that there are fine minds here who have not yet mastered the language but still see in ways extraordinary and abundant. How to reward the most adroit yet encourage these is the question.

Today I must whittle finalist entries to discuss with the other judges. It's a lot, and I am exhausted, same old, same old. I must start fresh, but I'm going to be wise and give myself til 11 of pootling about rather than thinking. I need this work to be done and done well by the end of Saturday at the very latest.

Speaking of judgment, with far less wisdom and discrimination, I was pointed by a vicious friend (yes, we all have them. In fairness I don't doubt for a moment the pointing goes both ways) towards photos of a mutual acquaintance who has 'had summat dun.' All I could do was gasp in surprise; summat? A lot, or a little that has had considerable effect. I'm not judging the decision, personally I think if cosmetic surgery makes you happy, go for it, no-one else's business, but I'm not convinced by the result. It's made me rethink. She's gone for at least two things I half seriously considered, and if they don't suit her, they may well not suit me; Q throwing my ideas of microblading brows, mini facelifts, in fact, all of it, right in the bin. I can't quite surrender my 'is it possible?' thoughts of a tummy tuck, but I don't see it happening somehow. After all, a good tummy tuck costs as much as a good tour of the Galapagos. Neither choice is 'better,' but one is better for me; given a choice between big chonky lizards and perfect silhouettes, the chonky lizards win. Who knew?

Not that such choices are going to be likely if that idiot remains in Downing Street. In less than a week she's crashed the pound, F*** knows what she'll botch in another month. Another desperately incompetent PM, this one more stupid than the last though a far less convincing liar, a living testimony to the dangers of Dunning-Kruger politics. How far can this go? The theory being posited right now is that she'll slash taxes, borrow to cover some public services, then decide we can't afford the borrowing and privatise those services including the NHS. Theory number 2 is that our new chancellor,Kwasi Karteng, erstwhile employee of Crispin Odey, is still working for that specialist in betting against the pound. Disaster capitalism at its most opportunistic. I like this place, but England's gone full Bat Country. Never have my Conservative friends been so very quiet; there's more damage on the way. They talk about letters of no confidence, but as I understand it, a new leader gets a year's grace before s/he can be removed. I would love to be wrong about that. There's a whole heap of ruin can happen in a year, and a whole heap of judgment that's too late now.