I'm going to Budapest soon and I am determined not to pack too much this time. Usually on the eve of a voyage I am to be found sitting on a suitcase, squeezing the lid down, trying to get it to close. Just as I think all is well and I can snap shut the fasteners, the far corner suddenly splits from the base. With some difficulty, I get that squashed back into position and then the corner diagonally opposite leaps up at me instead. I stamp it into submission, only to find the whole of one side is beginning to gape.
Just at the moment, our new government reminds me of one of my overfilled suitcases. Just when you think it's all finally contained, an independent springs out of nowhere, claiming he didn't know a certain tax would not be part of some process. They get him under control somehow, but almost immediately another independent leaps up, saying he is also concerned about some other aspect of the same tax. He is appeased and settles back down and all seems to be well. Then a third independent appears, saying he doesn't just want the tax discussed; he wants the whole thing redesigned.
Day by day, we get another glimpse of things that are meant to be shoved out of sight - governmental socks and underpants, worn pyjama bottoms, fraying string vests - each one bursting out just when you least expect it. Presumably the whole churning mass will be sealed up eventually. Good strong padlocks will be needed then.
`One Never Writes Alone' - Norm Sibum suggested I read *Montreal Before Spring* (trans. Donald McGrath, Biblioasis, 2015) by the Quebec francophone poet Robert Melançon (b. 1947), wh...
54 minutes ago