Feuding over coloured utensils

I woke to find Bessy balancing the entire contents of the kitchen on her nose. The ceiling of the kitchen, the floor of the bathroom above, the ceiling of the bathroom, and the roof of the house had all opened up on time, thank goodness. Margaret was on top, with an umbrella, observing the horizon. I don't understand why she does it in the rain.

Felix tells me he visited the horizon not long ago, so that he could watch at close quarters the end of a dynastic feud that had been raging for centuries. The feud had something to do with the choice of red used for the stripes on the lighthouse. I suggested it was about time they finished their disagreement given that it was just about paint but Felix looked at me severely and said that what might appear trivial sitting here, had a very different complexity when you're standing on the distant flats. I looked at my cup of tea and wondered how much more complicated life could get, but didn't say anything more to Felix.

George used to paint stripes on glaciers in all sorts of colours. He then skied the glacier on his bare feet as a way of adding a random pattern to their soles. Cookie commented that it was good for a foot's spiritual well-being to be dosed up with frozen colours. George and I considered what she had said, but could find no relevance, so we got on with the day.

Which brings me to a thought I had as I was doing root canal therapy on Mr Brownsteig's lower molar: could a feud be painted a peaceful colour, balanced on a dog's nose, and marvelled at until it resolves itself?