Here, we might as well start with this one:
It probably hasn't escaped your attention that clerkmanifesto has recently increasingly filled up with strange cartoon and poster work, a lot of rather dark musings featuring Doris, and my most chatty, offbeat, and conversational self.
Good job noticing!
This is a bit astray from the slightly more sober accounts of travelling and adapting to a beautiful new city and making a new life in a new country that have just barely managed to prevail here over the last half year.
And if you very tentatively dipped your toe into clerkmanifesto to follow on that strange, harrowing, and magical ride of moving to a glamorous retirement, and now you find yourself subjected to...
weird things,
all I can say is...
oops.
I've never really been in control of clerkmanifesto. That stuff is all handled from the home office.
I'm just saying: I'm as much a victim as you! Another six months of this "Aren't the French mean and funny and my god, the gelato!" stuff and I could be the next Peter Mayle!
But we've had a rough couple of months. There have been a lot of health issues going on unpleasantly for us, and simultaneously a reckoning that this probably isn't the right city for us has unmistakably reared its head. I don't suppose that negates this being, along with all my other stuff, the story of a glamorous retirement, but it makes the road a lot more twisty.
Way more twisty.
And when the road gets twisty, clerkmanifesto sometimes likes to just get out of the fucking car, walk into the woods, draw a tree or maybe an alien, and then tell everyone that unfortunately we're all going to die one day.
I don't mean anything by it.
I hope it's your cup of tea. And if not, things could change again. I don't know. That's up to the home office.
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