Stamp Collecting

Catt, from freecycle, called round today to collect some stuff for soldering jewellery on. I had a few of those fireproof ceramic-ey things out of old gas fires and a couple of metal sheets for her. We pondered the contents of the cellar a bit more and came up with a grill pan, some fire tongs and an oven rack-shelf then found two clay tiles in the back garden as well. The daft thing I did was try to soak the stamp off the back of one of the metal sheets. Why didn't I leave it where it was?! I wish I had. It didn't even come off in one piece, so now I have a sad little pile of bits of stamp somewhere in the kitchen, which I shall have to watch out for and decide what to do with. Where was I? - Yes, earlier 'today' (it's Saturday 02.37 but still Friday because I haven't been to bed yet, or at least, only for half an hour this afternoon, just before I set out for the Pantomime) - anyway - earlier I had to get to the Post Office and the locksmith's before they shut and I'd forgotten to have lunch, so I took a packet of oatey biscuits with me and ate them as I was walking along the road. When I'd finished them, I scrunched up the little plastic packet they'd been in and transferred it from one hand to the other. I contemplated various dustbins in neighbours' gardens and eventually deposited it in a bin that had been left on the street. I saw that it was empty and after I closed the lid again I felt a wonderful release of tension. I noticed that I'd checked mentally to see if there was anything that could connect me with that bit of plastic - then I put it out of my mind - except I found myself wondering why on earth I hadn't left the stamp where it was. I could've been as free of it as I am of the biscuit wrapper. It was only - can only have been that I didn't want Catt to have it - simply being dog-in-the-manger - keeping control, keeping possession. It's just that stamps should be collected, even the torn ones that nobody wants. They have to be collected in the jar where the stamps go that go to the church and then get sent to some charity or other that (I was told this so long ago!) takes the dye out of them. Can anyone believe that? The other day some chap in a bar was going on and on about voting and how pointless it is. I didn't know what I was meant to do or say. Maybe it is an irrational activity, but people have died for the franchise and it should be treated with respect. Mind you, as I'm writing that I'm remembering something I saw on a wall that made me very happy - "Respect is for Losers"!!! What do you think of that?!