Once upon a time, in a wee village filled with people of many shapes and sizes, there lived a rather skinny lass called Morrissey.
Morrissey was a ponderous type who had secret, wild and fanciful designs that she was a Viking in the making (being, after all blonde, blue eyes and of moderate height), she had one but small problem – she lived in a flatlet, owned a dog, was never clad in bear skin, and so was not quite convincing in this role.
In the eye of her imagination, she could not see herself feeling very comfortable in wild Viking skirts and belts anyways, and had not quite figured out the appropriate wardrobe for it otherwise – hanging onto ship masts in heroine apparel (sheer fabric, low cut neckline) did not seem very practical. She thought that she might just wear Jeans and a fierce expression instead, none of which would surprise anyone in the village by any means.
Morrissey thought that life might be nudging her onto a more adventurous route than normal because it was failing to steer her towards a comfortable one. She had an intense power of deduction that way.
Although the people in her village pointed to village life and the warmth of pubs and fire-lit houses (with kids clinging to their m’aams skirts and wives arms comfortably linked into the crook offered by their bearded husbands) and nodded assuredly that one day it would all be hers, she recognized that not all advertising was true, and that, if life circumstances kept certain things at arms length anyways, she might as well figure out why, on an adventure of sorts.
She had noted certain trends in the village of late which was leaning her towards packing her suitcase and heading off down the road to see what might be happening around the corner. (Although she had to admit to herself that she did not entirely believe in greener grass and felt that something else was afoot.)
For one, the bearded, manly ones, who were to imminently rock up on a steed of sorts and whisk Morrissey and others like her away on the adventure of her lifetime, were becoming a rare sighting at village gatherings and were not as imminent as had been promised by folklore and older villagers. She recognized this as a world-wide phenomenon. With no world wars in her vicinity to blame.
Because of this, the single ladies of the village had stopped preening themselves and tilting their heads every which way to find a man and were, instead, learning how to be practical and take the rubbish out themselves. They were getting quite good at it.
(This had caused quite a stir amongst some of the existing bearded ones – they grew quite hot and flustered about bearded ones roles and how ladies taking out the rubbish infringed vastly upon these. To which many of the ladies simply shrugged in response, as many practical women do, and said, ‘So, leave the rubbish to accumulate and stink instead?’ )
Morrissey decided to take all of these issues up with the village God. She pointed out to Him that she and the village’s ladies were not at fault for taking out the rubbish and infringing on specified roles if no other alternative was available to them. Morrissey secretly believed that the village God had a role to play in all of it anyway. He seemed quite peaceful at the prospect of so many of his village ladies flying solo, so Morrissey had to conclude that it was not the worst outcome for a young ladies life as others were intimating.
In fact she had been at a wedding ceremony just the other day where someone had leant across, squeezed her arm and commanded, ‘Stay single!’ which was a further indication that perhaps married life was not all it was made out to be.
The question then remained – what was going on?
(more thoughts to follow…)