Dumping ground

I am a man of simple needs. I suppose that makes me shallow, but it also means that I can attain a state of Zen-like contentment without too much pain and effort. Goals are all very well, but if you are continually striving for something better, you never really get to enjoy what you have at the time.

For example, there are few experiences that are quite as satisfying for me as concluding a really good dump. It’s an opportunity to stop and smell the roses (after a fashion). A time for letting go of all that creases the troubled brow and allowing Nature to take her course. It almost approaches a spiritual experience, because I feel purged, cleansed, lighter and happier. I am able to recover lost equilibrium, I am less cynical about life in general and I’m much easier to be with. It’s one of the rare cases where the literal translates directly into the figurative – i.e. I’m a lot less full of shit.

Best of all, it’s a completely guilt-free pleasure. Not only does the medical profession smile upon those who regularly visit parliament to pass a motion (or whichever other defecation euphemism you prefer), but it’s also 100% non-fattening!


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