Think!

Back when I were a lad, I had a good mate at school. We both had a set of drawing instruments, given to us (probably on loan, now I think about it) by our fathers, who were both of a Royal Naval persuasion, by which I mean that they were sailors. Military men. We were at a school for the sons of seafarers, so not such a coincidence.

The set looked something like this:

So far, so dull.

The point of this vignette, if indeed that describes this brief tale correctly, is that Pete (for that is his name) had something rather important written on the lid of his set, and I have only just today decided that it was rather significant in the making of the old man sat here in front of a laptop.

P.D.B.
THINK!

Honestly, I cannot recall if the full stops were there, nor whether it was all in capitals, but I’m pretty sure the exclamation mark was a feature. Hopefully, Pete will read this and correct me, if appropriate. Then again, I may have just imagined it all. (As a side note, 2019 was a pretty crap year for many reasons, some of which I will undoubtedly feature in future ramblings, but on the plus side, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I made contact with my old pal for the first time in almost 40 years. We’re hoping to catch up in person, this summer.)

Anyway. Think! THINK! Whatever. I recall asking why it was there on the lid of the box. Why? To deter a would-be thief. Simple. On mine, I think I’d written “Keep your filthy mitts off, your thieving bastard!”* . Pete’s seemed so much more eloquent.

Today, I sit here contemplating life, fresh in the realisation that I think (Think! THINK!) rather carefully, and probably rather too much, about pretty much everything I do, everything I see, everything I hear. Impulsive, I am not.

Thus, it transpired that I could never steal anything (although I admit I did once filch a pop-a-point pencil from the biology lab, but returned it a few years later after the guilt finally gnawed right through my adolescent conscience). I might think about stealing something, but I would feel bad about the potential consequences. Today, on a rather more mundane level, I am considering the consequences of a daily occurrence. What if I have another cup of tea? Will I have enough tea bags to get me through to June when we return to the UK? I am also wondering why am I even bothering to write this nonsense.

What is the point? I think about this several times every day. Not the tea bags. The point. The ultimate question.

Just by chance, thanks to the random freakery of social media, I found this today. Seemed too pertinent and too good to not share.

Did I mention that dad was a sailor? “Pic’s or it never ‘appened!”, I hear you shout.

I think (Think! THINK!) that’s where I got me legs from, but he is waaay more handsome than I ever was. Probably.

*This is a lie. Evidently, people lie rather frequently these days, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They still get elected.