As we take the time to peer up life’s proctological periscope in the hope of spotting some light beyond the ever tightening sphincter of lockdown, and dodge those sharp edged toast crusts that litter our path, I offer some light philosophy drawn from my regular muse and massager of my hippocampus, St Douglas of Adams and his seminal works on an ordered life and how to pair off odd socks when the washing machine eats yet another foot-glove. It should be compulsory reading in schools if such things still existed. If the Gideon Bible is always to be found in hotel bedrooms then Adams’ compendium should be hanging from string next to every toilet.
It is
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
By St. Douglas of Adams (I’ve said this, haven’t I?)
Here are some take-ways that help you survive another news bulletin.
Even the Vogons get to read their poetry
Vogon poetry is the worst in the universe. Their captain reads it to Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect, admittedly not willingly. But it gives all nascent performance poets hope, and if one day I’m in charge of an interstellar demolition fleet I too may get to read Le Pard’s first oeuvre to some passing hitch-hiker.
A cool frood always knows where his towel is
This reminds everyone of the essential rightness of one’s hyperawareness for personalised terrycloth. Clearly the towel is a metaphor for having about one’s person any form of absorbent material. Indeed note 25th May in your diaries as International Towel Day.
There is a restaurant at the end of the universe
Of course, at one level this idea encapsulates hope, hope that one day you too will reach a spectacular end if you strive for long enough and have enough patience. But the real message is more prosaic: that however much you might save and for however long, all you’ll end up with is enough for a bag of chips and a scrawny burger.
It’s the mice who run everything
A good reminder this that just because they are small and whiskery doesn’t mean they are unimportant; the young should bear this in mind when looking at we of more marinaded years.
I could never get the hang of Thursdays
It is a truth that should be universally acknowledged that each of us has a Dud-Day. Custom suggests Mondays as the start of a lot of working weeks but with seven days to choose from each person needs to understand when it is utterly excusable to pull the duvet back up, kill the alarm and just snuggle. If trains can be excused school because of the wrong sort of snow and children not beaten soundly because their homework is still proving in the airing cupboard, then adults should be entitled to their Dud-Day.
The world desperately needs to discover a babel fish
I hanker to travel more but part of why I don’t (there’s the time:money conundrum stuff but passing that by) is the fact not everyone speaks a version of English I can understand. I’m not saying they should (though good manners would suggest they give it serious thought). But, because they don’t and I will certainly not be able to speak whatever it is they are articulating, I end up either (a) frustrated because I can no more make myself understood than my dog when he pops out to the butchers to buy some sausages or (b) embarrassed that someone can speak English in a structured and intelligible way because they have made the effort to and, well, it rather shows me up as the lazy good for nothing tosser that I really am.
A lot of you might have expected me to comment on the unveiling, in amongst these other revelations of the fact that the Meaning of Life, the Universe and Everything is (spoiler alert)
42
That’s the thing and I learnt it years ago. It’s just a number and, well, as I hope we all know by now, it is that, whatever Life, the Universe and Everything looks like on the outside, inside it is whatever number it wants it to be. And that’s probably the most important take away for all of us. And it really didn’t need five books to show it.
Or you could be Dog and not real gives a manatee’s ballcock for philosophy.
TanGental 
LOL – Dog… you is a happily simple creature
LikeLiked by 2 people
As I write he snuffling in his dreams…
LikeLiked by 2 people
That was always a grand book.
Dog. Yes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
One of the top works of philosophy
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dog knows the best things in life, clearly. And I never know where your mind is going to take you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Me neither…
LikeLiked by 1 person
But do remember that the Babel fish, by ensuring that all life forms (which I assume includes super intelligent shades of the colour blue) could communicate clearly, caused more, and bloodier wars, that anything else in the history of the universe.
(Hope I have remembered my Adams correctly)
LikeLiked by 1 person
You did. Though of course there was problem of scale…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Adorable photo!
Was late getting round to reading first book as opposed to radio or tv – it didn’t disappoint.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I believe it was written for radio so you may have done it the right way
LikeLiked by 1 person
Long since forgotten it was that way round!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can remember listening while lying on my bedroom floor in my flat at Worlds End. It was the second broadcast and i did sit ups for the whole of each episode!! I was mad!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
We could so learn from our pets.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh yes please! Lessons in sleeping and eating
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your dog looks so comfy and cosy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh! To be a dog! …..I am a big fan Douglas Adams fan ….. I hope our poetry is is marginally better than the Vogons !
LikeLiked by 1 person
Some times!!
LikeLike
😏💜💜💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well done, Geoff. Dog played a great role. 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
He’s up for Woof at the awards for Being Most Dog in a blog post
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hahaha
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dog, simplicity at it’s best. We mortals down here seem to be focussing on making our abodes more luxurious and comfortable, a bit like dog, life is far more enjoyable with comfort. Travel? Seems a lifetime ago!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes i wonder when we will upsticks again
LikeLike
How long is a piece of string? Hopefully within a couple of years.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good Dog
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh to be a dog! Mine is currently dreaming sweetly under a blanket!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mine is waiting on sofa and TV time… not long now!! If only they’d say hello by nudging paws rather than sniffing bottoms, I’d sign up like a shot.
LikeLike
My memories of radio plays heavily involved the Goon Show, so when young St Douglas first permeated the air-waves I was, to use the vernacular of the times, stoked! 😀
42 forever!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yay!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This made me smile!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Perfect
LikeLiked by 1 person