Fairwell

I think I may be suffering from mild appendicitis. Or perhaps it's just indigestion. Although that seems unlikely since, as per Paul's instructions, I chewed every mouthful of my lunch at length, stopped when I was full and made sure that, during the masticatory processes, I appreciated the intricacies of flavour and texture. This last was no mean feat given that I was 'enjoying' a baked potato in a polystyrene box from the canteen that had tough, rubbery skin like a dead octopus and grainy, bland flesh within. I tried to perk up this non-event by adding a 10g portion of Flora and a pot of grated yellow cheese but my efforts were fruitless. My lunch was, at best, a disappointment. Thus it would seem a little unfair if I were now suffering from indigestion.

Then again, I think I need to revisit this idea of 'fair'. When is anything ever really fair? No one has ever had the same start, the same experiences, the same treatment. No one has the same ideas, the same figure, the same face. What we want and what we get is always different from the person next to us. Why is 'fair' even in our vocabulary? I think life would be a lot easier if we all erased the concept of fairness and moved beyond an acceptance of the infinite unfairness that comes with variety, towards an active expectation of difference and partiality. Aiming for fairness, in my experience, is a recipe for frustration and confusion. Whereas aiming for diversity - and, perhaps, being pleasantly surprised if the people around you end up sharing similarities, wanting and receiving what you too want and receive - seems a lot more sensible. And you know me: sensible's my middle name. That and Louise.