Envy? Nah.

I am considering trying out some new emotions. Envy, I thought, that's one I never really got to grips with. I remember having a fleeting green moment when Prince Charles divorced Diana - my god, the sense of relief! - but apart from that, and a vague feeling that Dave Brubeck had more fingers on each hand than I do - the emotion of envy has passed me by. Jealousy I have always been good at, although, perversely, I have sometimes enjoyed the sensation that someone got the girl that I didn't. But envy, I have had to work hard to pump that into the Old Scrotal psyche.

Until today.
I put up a couple of Swift nestboxes for a nice lady in Huntingdon. She is very short, and seriously plump, and her husband, though taller, is equally abbondante. And what struck me was that this couple, who are old enough to have children and grandchildren, are unaffectedly happy with each other. You know, that kind of serenity that is almost palpable. Bless them, bless all couples who achieve this karma, despite the tribulations of life.
The only consolation I could give my self, perverse bugger that I am, was that in order to talk to me, she had to stand close to me and look up into my nostrils.
I will work on this envy thing, but I doubt if I will get far with it. It requires more energy than I am capable of right now, despite Metatone.