During a heated defence of cyclists a “friend” of mine called me a “sad old git” and that wanting to say “Morning” to people was, I think she was suggesting, a sign of loneliness. The trouble is, as with many of these things, there’s a hint of truth there and for a few days it spun me into a haze of despondency.

The nature of friendship is a complex thing and possibly borders on the spiritual for being something that defies description. The rub for me as far as friendship goes is that the bond that exists should not be too dependent on one side making emotional sacrifices to keep the relationship going (Hey, that’s what marriage is for!).

The difficulty I have with friendship is that my interests rarely coincide with the people I meet, especially in Hastings and the circle I found myself in when I came here. A good example is politics. Very few people seem to view the infinitely complex field of how people relate to one another and the ruling structures that emerge from this in anything other than a crass series of stereotypes where the massively simplified augments of others are taken on board then defended by manipulation of guilt; it was once said to me by a member of Transport 2000 that if I had no objection to 4×4s I must believe in killing children. Whatever the rights and wrongs of things the lazy refusal to engage with the vast subtleties of life with anything but moronic cyphers and blackmail does not just make conversation pointless but boring. Add to this the oozing self righteousness of the unsuccessful artist, of which this town is plentifully blessed, and you have a situation where one either has to nod in agreement while gagging or make excuses and leave.

Me, I like it when someone says “Good Morning” to me, it makes me feel good and I hope the same goes for the people I say “Good Morning” to, no big deal, no harm done…

Patrick plans his escape from the grasping hands of sponging artists.

I have been informed by callow youth (a Mr Dominic Rider) that having a blog is uncool! Now, if I didn’t have the natural fluency of Shakespeare and the story telling ability of J K Rowling I might agree but as anyone with eyes can see JK might as well start checking her pension now.

A critic contemplates his evil work.