High Dudgeon

One of the consolations of having been treated shittily, is the right to be in High Dudgeon. I am honing it, perfecting it, and getting the most possible mileage from it, because it's time-limited. High Dudgeon can only last so long before it becomes counter-productive.

The heat now is suffocating. Even the slight breeze is only shifting warm air around. The afternoon programme children wilt.

I have been to a meeting to discuss same-sex blessings. It seems that two people will leave the church if we continue to discuss it. So, put another way, censor yourselves or we walk. Oh, shucks, close the door behind you please.
I seriously can't believe that people are even allowed to spew this bigotry, oh yes, make no mistake, I want to censor bigotry.
But then I was criticised for referring to bigots as bigots. A bit harsh apparently. I consider it a human rights issue, so, like I said, close the door on your way out.

Afterwards, I had to go to a meeting with the folks who prematurely terminated my contract. Back home, if someone stabs you in the back, they at least have the decency to be unable to look you in the eye. These folks were all puppy dog eyes and 'take care,' type remarks, except the one person who didn't know, and his jaw dropped open and stayed there.

Bizarrely, sitting on my desk, is the latest programme evaluation, 'the children loved the performance,' it said, 'the actors were excellent.'
Partly, I wanted to feel the swell of praise, and partly I wondered whether they thought we really did engage actors, and that when we changed out of our costumes and then came back in as ourselves, pretending to be late because of the bus, they believed us.
Cynic that I am.

I think High Dudgeon may last a while longer, then I'll start my sulk, it's bad for my blood pressure, but rather good for my writing, and let's face it, I'm going to have to write a damn fine CV soon.