I have never had a particular fondness for narrow political perspectives on the organisation of society as for example, in communism or indeed socialism, as anyone can glean from even a cursory glance at the convoluted thought processes underlying my meandering blog entries. Socialism got a bad name for me when our now retired Taoiseach (Prime Minister), Mr. Bertie Ahern, declared himself to be a socialist as well as leader of arguably the largest right wing party in Ireland. However, I see from a television advert for a tabloid newspaper screened last night that he now writes a column on soccer for it. To reaffirm the significance of this, he was shown seated inside a kitchen cupboard drinking a cup of tea and presumably readily available to offer his views as soon as the lady of the house opened the press door. As a mark of respect for the significant contribution which this man has made to the economic mess in which the Irish Nation now finds itself, I have pledged to take out an annual subscription to this newspaper and to proclaim myself a socialist for life, if the said retired Taoiseach agrees to stay in this cupboard for as long as he remains in our impoverished country.
I’m afraid that I have little time either for the magic cleansing properties of the Communist Formula for a whiter than white social product. Nevertheless, when I awoke last Saturday morning from a peaceful night’s slumber and had recourse to a friendly conversation with my good wife, I could not help thinking of some of the key teachings of Karl Marx and in particular his perspectives on the ‘Division of Labour’. One of Karl’s warnings in this sphere was that specialisation in work practices may result in a lack of enthusiasm for work. He described this process very aptly as ‘alienation’. In fact he put it very succinctly when he said that a worker could be ‘depressed spiritually and physically to the condition of a machine’. The cause of this radical recollection and keen insight on my behalf was the belief that my good wife was suffering from ‘depressed spirituality’ and machine like rigidity last weekend, presumably occasioned by the demands of her day job. For how else can one explain the fact that she was prepared to risk total alienation of our life long social partnership by refusing to take her turn to get up and go and feed the newly expanded hen brood outside in the rain! Shock! Horror! Indeed!
Quickly and correctly reading the surprised expression on my face, she explained that she genuinely supported ‘my’ choice to expand the hen flock and that she was fully prepared to participate in what she called my ‘home farm initiative’ but that she just had not enough time due to work commitments to do more than collect the eggs on occasion. She then gave me a somewhat inappropriate ‘peck’ on the cheek, curled up happily in bed once more and went back to sleep. Thus it was the teachings of Karl Marx that came suddenly to mind as I went downstairs and out to the yard in the rain with only my dressing gown, my old cloth cap and wellies to protect me from the elements.
However, I was pleased to find all my poultry friends in fine fettle. We now have 4 Rhode Island reds, a lovely white Light Sussex breed and a French Maran hen. I had researched the profile and quality of each breed on the Internet and could not help recalling what I had read about the Maran hen in particular. It said that although she was an excellent bird of renowned stock and lineage, in summer some of such hens could be broody in disposition. I could not help thinking about the similarity in name between the Maran hen and the Marian name of my wife upstairs who I felt at that point of the day was also prone to showing a broody manner. I know call this hen ‘Mar’ in a show of genuine affection.
I’m glad to relate that the good relationship between my wife and me and indeed between us and our lovely hens has been fully restored. However, there are no ‘Marx’ going for guessing who had to get up and feed the hens the following morning. Notwithstanding this little fowl exchange, I feel that we should not fall out over a small ‘Division of Labour’ whether it is the subject of an ancient political polemic or not.
No, I think it is to William Shakespeare that we should leave the last word on this topic. Perhaps upon reflection I should not have put such unreasonable pressure on my own little romantic chick companion but I now know for sure when it comes to ‘dishing the dirt’ of my feathered friends that for my wife at least it is certainly a case of ‘Loves Labour Lost’.
Written as an attempt at humorous part fiction only and in order to avoid an onslaught from any feminists let me assure you that Marian remains my treasured and fully respected pride and joy! In fact she has agreed to provide a guest blog on my site in the near future but as she points out ‘Women multi task but Men multi tweet’ so I will have to wait some time yet. Her topic she says will be ‘specialist metal manhole covers’, (there was an exhibition of same in Ferrara last summer). She claims that contrary to my initial impression that this is not a ‘waste’ of time and so lets hope that her enthusiasm does not ‘drain’ away in the interim time.
Finally, does anyone know if there is a problem in keeping goats or sheep in a domestic environment as I am thinking of expanding my farm ‘pet’ initiative! Help?
All comments and musings welcome!
I’m afraid that I have little time either for the magic cleansing properties of the Communist Formula for a whiter than white social product. Nevertheless, when I awoke last Saturday morning from a peaceful night’s slumber and had recourse to a friendly conversation with my good wife, I could not help thinking of some of the key teachings of Karl Marx and in particular his perspectives on the ‘Division of Labour’. One of Karl’s warnings in this sphere was that specialisation in work practices may result in a lack of enthusiasm for work. He described this process very aptly as ‘alienation’. In fact he put it very succinctly when he said that a worker could be ‘depressed spiritually and physically to the condition of a machine’. The cause of this radical recollection and keen insight on my behalf was the belief that my good wife was suffering from ‘depressed spirituality’ and machine like rigidity last weekend, presumably occasioned by the demands of her day job. For how else can one explain the fact that she was prepared to risk total alienation of our life long social partnership by refusing to take her turn to get up and go and feed the newly expanded hen brood outside in the rain! Shock! Horror! Indeed!
Quickly and correctly reading the surprised expression on my face, she explained that she genuinely supported ‘my’ choice to expand the hen flock and that she was fully prepared to participate in what she called my ‘home farm initiative’ but that she just had not enough time due to work commitments to do more than collect the eggs on occasion. She then gave me a somewhat inappropriate ‘peck’ on the cheek, curled up happily in bed once more and went back to sleep. Thus it was the teachings of Karl Marx that came suddenly to mind as I went downstairs and out to the yard in the rain with only my dressing gown, my old cloth cap and wellies to protect me from the elements.
However, I was pleased to find all my poultry friends in fine fettle. We now have 4 Rhode Island reds, a lovely white Light Sussex breed and a French Maran hen. I had researched the profile and quality of each breed on the Internet and could not help recalling what I had read about the Maran hen in particular. It said that although she was an excellent bird of renowned stock and lineage, in summer some of such hens could be broody in disposition. I could not help thinking about the similarity in name between the Maran hen and the Marian name of my wife upstairs who I felt at that point of the day was also prone to showing a broody manner. I know call this hen ‘Mar’ in a show of genuine affection.
I’m glad to relate that the good relationship between my wife and me and indeed between us and our lovely hens has been fully restored. However, there are no ‘Marx’ going for guessing who had to get up and feed the hens the following morning. Notwithstanding this little fowl exchange, I feel that we should not fall out over a small ‘Division of Labour’ whether it is the subject of an ancient political polemic or not.
No, I think it is to William Shakespeare that we should leave the last word on this topic. Perhaps upon reflection I should not have put such unreasonable pressure on my own little romantic chick companion but I now know for sure when it comes to ‘dishing the dirt’ of my feathered friends that for my wife at least it is certainly a case of ‘Loves Labour Lost’.
Written as an attempt at humorous part fiction only and in order to avoid an onslaught from any feminists let me assure you that Marian remains my treasured and fully respected pride and joy! In fact she has agreed to provide a guest blog on my site in the near future but as she points out ‘Women multi task but Men multi tweet’ so I will have to wait some time yet. Her topic she says will be ‘specialist metal manhole covers’, (there was an exhibition of same in Ferrara last summer). She claims that contrary to my initial impression that this is not a ‘waste’ of time and so lets hope that her enthusiasm does not ‘drain’ away in the interim time.
Finally, does anyone know if there is a problem in keeping goats or sheep in a domestic environment as I am thinking of expanding my farm ‘pet’ initiative! Help?
All comments and musings welcome!
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