Confucian Confusion

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A curious confluence of stuff: I'm sat here watching Yusuf Cat Stevens on the pyramid stage at Glastonbury - on TV - in a cottage in Pen Llŷn, Gogledd Cymru, grey skies over Worthy Farm and Med blue here: the bloke onstage older than me and with whose music I grew up in the late sixties and early seventies. Meanwhile, we've had the catastrophic failure of the Titan submersible adding to the tragic debris field surrounding the wreck of the Titanic, 13,000 feet below the North Atlantic: the [literal] nadir of capitalist hubris and disregard for human safety writ large. A curiously (and worryingly suspicious) aborted insurrection running alongside the Ukraine War; and the Bank of England further turning the screws of austerity on the populace: the Andrew Marr interview with the Brexiteer boss of discounted beer outlet Wetherspoons flagging the distinct possibility of the ten-pound pint in the no-too-distant. Life seems somewhat complicated at the minute. Interesting (in the Chinese proverbial sense) times indeed...

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