Today I took a brief sojourn amongst the mega-rich. Business took me to Kensington Palace Gardens, home of some the World's Wealthiest People. This guy lives there, as does this guy, oh, and this guy. The houses look like the picture above. The fellow I went to meet wasn't there, he's got a dodgy knee, apparently. It rained heavily, and there was a fire on the Tube. It was a waste of time, but I got to smell the money.
Fabulous wealth does not ensure happiness, self-evidently. In fact, I concluded, strolling along a pavement completely free of litter and gum, there is a kind of poverty in superfluity. The miniature daffodils growing sparsely in my front garden afford me greater pleasure, I imagine, than those sprouting in the Sultan's crescent beds do him. Alien to the plutocrat is the sensation of relief when your car starts first time and you weren't entirely sure it would. Will these people ever know the joy associated with finding a fiver in the pocket of a coat unworn since spring? No.
I hope that these precious lozenges of pleasure are never denied me, because I am richer for them.
2 comments:
I'm sure they're all quite miserable. At the very least, I'll bet they've never experienced the pleasure of a Sox game at Fenway. Hope you enjoy that particular "lozenge," my friend.
I really enjoyed that. It offers a great degree of comfort to think that those little pleasures will always escape the wealthy!
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