On Her Majesty’s Service

As I travel back to London from Manchester I am stressed but I don’t know why.   I need to learn to relax.  In the moments between event.  Maybe I should go to Tibet and climb a fookin mountain or something.  My life is all about me. At some point in the equation it feels possibly selfish.  Miserly even. Ugh. I don’t even like using the word.   How to navigate ones self in the absence (of?)   where  ones decisions and thought  processes are calibrated so to make harmonious the small stuff?  Hmmm.

I am reading an incredible book. I am always reading a book but for some reason I don’t document it in my blog.  It makes my journey home, all of three hours, seem like minutes. It is The Girl with the Dragon tattoo by Stieg Larsson.   Home at last. Home at last.  On the kitchen table the journalist has put an envelope.  In bold black printed letters upon one envelope are the words   ON HER  MAJESTY’S SERVICE.   Strictly Personal.  

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