Even in the tiny, quiet town of Smogdale, UpNorth County, in the UQ (the Untidy Queendom of Little England), the traffic congestion is getting so bad that Kevin the builder ha s a problem.
Despite being a couple of inches short of 7 feet tall, well built and notoriously energetic, he doesn’t want to carry his tools 200 yards from his van to his house every day after work. He doesn’t want to carry them back to the van every morning, either.
So, after work on a Friday night he carries his tools home, had a large mug of coffee and started work.
At 7 p.m. on Sunday he sighed with relief, thanked his neighbours for their help, (Agnes Daily – tea and cake; Fidget Waugh, 7 stone inventor/mad professor – several trips with his wheelbarrow) and surveyed his new, rather untidy car park.
“Looks great,” said Fidget, whose idea of ‘tidy’ was to spring clean, possibly every second year.
“very useful!” beamed Agnes Daily. Being the vicar’s dedicated domestic help / church warden and a devout Kindian (her own religion – a hybrid of Buddhism, optimism and uncommon sense) stumbled over saying anything that wasn’t completely true.
A ‘practical’ off road surface, yes, but hardly great.
Despite Fidget being the inventor, it was Agnes that had the idea.
“Fidget!,” she said.
“That’s me,” he replied.
“Why not pay Kevin to make a similar park in your front garden, for your many projects – the solar powered wheelbarrow, wind powered tricycle, and so on.
You and I can, with a few extra hands, make a more attractive surface, and paint the boundary wall.”
“Errr, … , yes!” said Fidget.
So they did.
Several months later, Fidget was tinkering with his pedal-powered mobile mini-greenhouse, Agnes Daily was weeding her flower bed, and Kevin was washing the seagull poo off his van.
Several young men came past on muddy mountain bikes and made derisory comments about the snobbery of off-road parking.
Fidget felt annoyed, because it wasn’t true.
Kevin became depressed because, like all bullies/cowards, they had delivered their spiel and left, leaving no chance for a reply, and he had no chance to vent his anger.
Agnes felt a bit of each, but mostly she was just puzzled. So she went paint. It always worked for her – either painting or playing the piano.
After a while, the penny dropped: the body language of the 3 psychlists (to coin a word).
What had they said? Snobbery.
Their body language? Superior, inflated.
“You look happy,” said Kevin, as Agnes re-emerged into her front garden.
“What were you thinking about?” asked Fidget.
“Know thyself,” she beamed.
“A quote?” asked Fidget.
“Several … “
“scio te” Latin
A thorough discussion –
“γνῶθι σεαυτὸν” Greek
consciousness, fiction, psychology, satire, solar, wisdom, projection