Ruminant Philip Evans

They’ve turned the cows out into in the field opposite our house.

It’s one of my favourite sights. Those large, peaceful, black and white creatures with their heads down, enjoying the fresh grass. All is well with their world for the moment.

I envy them.

When I say I envy them, that doesn’t mean I would like to be a cow. Although as I sit sipping a malt whiskey and thinking, I realize that we do have one thing in common.

We are both ruminants. It says so in my dictionary: “ruminant” – contemplative, given to or engaged in meditation. “ruminant”- an animal that chews the cud and regurgitates its rumen.

As I don’t fancy regurgitating my rumen, and I am not really sure what a cud is, I lay claim to being in the first category i.e.: contemplative.

So what do I contemplate?

Well, probably the lack of ‘style’ in this modern world.

A couple of days ago there was a programme on Channel 4 called ‘The 100 Greatest Tearjerkers”. As the title suggested, it showed clips from some of the classic films that had moved audiences emotionally over the years. And how was it introduced? By a smug looking bloke called Jimmy Carr, who suggested it would make the audience weep so much they would be as “wet as a grand-mother’s chair”.

I’ve probably edited more scripts than smug Jimmy has had hot take-aways, and I would never let a tasteless comment like that go through.

What else do I contemplate?

Well, what in the hell are mothers of young children doing serving in the Royal Navy in Middle Eastern waters? What the hell are women doing in combat Units anyway? A long serving woman Major talking on TV the other day stated that the Army PE Instructors have to tailor the men’s training downwards in order to match the women squad members’ physical limits. It isn’t as if women don’t make good service personnel in their own right. The ATS provided Artillery gunners on many a gun emplacement during WW2 – they were good too There were many brilliant courageous females in all the Services, but not in a bayonet charge, or in a tank landing on the Normandy Beaches.

And another thing.

Why do people use expressions like ‘me and my mates’ or ‘me and my team’ or ‘my and my wife” or ‘they gave it to me and my family’. Until not so long ago they would have said ‘my team and I’ or ‘my wife and I’ or ‘they gave it to my family and me’.

The first person singular came last. But now? No, it’s ‘me’ ‘me’ ‘me’ first, these days.

I was once given a key ring with ‘you us me’ printed on it. Hasn’t life changed?

One of the lovely black and white creatures has come up to the fence. She’s eating without a worry in the world.

Lucky cow! (I expect that is a politically incorrect statement!).