That is to say, I’d like to be able to break the strikes that my infantile self launches against me. When it is having a strop, a sulk, a “tantie”, (usually because it feels it hasn’t been getting enough attention) and decides to insist on a wasted weekend. My rational self knows (knew) what would make me happy in the medium-to- long term. And still it let my infantile self run the roost.
“Who runs the country?”, as Heath asked the electorate in 1974. Well, we know now; “Not you.”
Muppet. And now I have waster’s remorse. A largely-wasted weekend. Aaaargh.