Oh! the things I have done and have seen!
at times in my life I have been
a wife, a mistress, a lover,
no better at one than the other.
I was a wife for a very long time.
It wasn’t great. It wasn’t sublime.
I left when I just couldn’t take any more
my spirit had been ground down to the floor.
As a mistress was I much better?
Each visiting day was red letter.
Of course in the end he went back to his wife
but by then he’d had seven years of my life.
And then of course there was - yes.
Perhaps I should just let you guess.
For nine years her lover, or maybe her friend.
It all went horribly wrong in the end.
In between those the occasional date,
no-one I’d love, no-one I’d hate.
One wanted to marry, at first I agreed,
then realised he was not what I need.
And now - what of now? What am I today?
I lover of sorts, but so far away.
A voice with an accent, a face on a screen,
a love that traverses the miles in between.
Six years and counting. We’re both getting old
with nary a kiss or a body to hold.
But love is important in everyone’s life
so now I’m a virtual, Second Life, wife.
After all I have seen, and done, and been
a lot of memories, what do they mean?
I made my mistakes, as anyone might,
but I think I finally got it right.
© 2014
Wednesday, 23 April 2014
Sunday, 16 February 2014
Brainfog
Maybe you've heard of brainfog. Perhaps you suffer from brainfog. If not, you may be wondering what brainfog refers to. Well, let me try to explain.
When I developed ME, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, apart from the devastating and surprising refusal of my body to do the things it could previously do, my sleep suffered dreadfully. I believe this had a lot to do with the brainfog which I then started to suffer. Without proper sleep anyone's brain starts to misfire but added to the neural damage of ME it's a sure fire way of not being able to function normally.
My sleep at that time was severely affected. Sometimes this meant being awake all night and, obviously, tired all day. Sometimes I did sleep at night, though the sleep was not like real sleep at all. I would become unconscious, switch off you might say, but wake suddenly in the morning without any sense of having slept. No drowsiness, no dreams, and I hadn't moved at all during the night. I don't know what kind of sleep that describes, not being an expert, but it isn't normal and it isn't refreshing or healing.
It would appear that, although I went to sleep, it was only into stage 1 light sleep; I never entered REM sleep in which dreams occur, or reached deep or slow wave/delta wave, sleep. During the deep stages of non REM sleep, the body repairs and regenerates tissues, builds bone and muscle, and appears to strengthen the immune system. So without that it's hardly surprising that ME sufferers are very ill.
I still have disturbed nights and reversed inner time clock issues, though when I do sleep now I do tend to sleep "properly". I have dreams, and often feel that warm drowsiness on waking, though not always.
However, when this lack of proper sleep goes on for months or years, it's no wonder the brain starts to give up. The inability to concentrate is the most obvious symptom. Reading, a favourite pastime, became such hard work. After a very short time my brain would feel "full". And, worse, I would read the same sentence over and over again before it made any sense. Watching tv game shows used to be fun, but now I found that by the time the presenter had got to the end of a question I'd forgotten the start of it. My short term memory was shot.
Losing words, in the way a stroke victim does, is also a problem. Everyone has this problem at times of course, especially as we get older, but with brainfog it's constant. Searching for the word you want is so frustrating, but in time I learned to stop trying and just either find another word that means the same, or just describe the thing I meant. I find now that just changing the subject in my mind, looking away as it were, makes it easier. When I stop trying, the word I wanted will sometimes just pop into my mind.
Personally I also lost the ability to type. I had been touch typing for many years but suddenly I found that, although I knew what I wanted to type, my fingers weren't getting the messages from the brain. I would type with the correct fingers but on the wrong hand, or the letters came out in the wrong order, and my thumbs developed a mind of their own and stuck spaces in wherever they felt like it. It's like a kind of dyslexia in reverse. There may be a name for it but I don't that.
This is all very irritating of course. I still tend to spend more time correcting my typos than actually typing, thought it's not as bad as it used to be. At my worst I simply couldn't remember the alphabet. And at my age that's not funny. Well, not very funny.
Brainfog, therefore, is a way of describing the brain's inability to think, to concentrate, to work things out. Pretty much as it sounds really. I have to say that I have improved to some extent. I put it down to the handfuls of supplements, recommended by Dr Myhill, an ME specialist; in particular the brain feeding ones, which made a huge difference to my ability to sleep. Fish oils or other foods containing EPA and DHA for instance. The brain is something like 60% fatty tissue, so feeding this is important. However the thing that made the biggest change for me was PhosphatidylSerine, sometimes written as two words, an amino acid vital for neural function. Although normally the body can create it from foods it is being looked at now as a supplement for Alzheimer's patients.
I've seen various articles saying that PS helps, or it doesn't help, or it may help. All I know is that within a few days of taking it I started to sleep normally and over time my brainfog has improved. One quote says:
"Because PS is necessary for effective neurotransmission, PS deficiency is linked to mental impairment, including Alzheimer's and non-Alzheimer's dementia, depression and Parkinson's disease among middle-aged and elderly people."
To have a brain that is akin to an elderly person with dementia, while you are still young, or fairly young, is very frustrating. We call it brainfog. It occurs in people with Fibromyalgia I understand, and quite possibly in other long term disabilities. My own experience is that it can be improved, if not entirely cured. I hope something I have shared here makes sense to others. I still have some problems myself, after all.
When I developed ME, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, apart from the devastating and surprising refusal of my body to do the things it could previously do, my sleep suffered dreadfully. I believe this had a lot to do with the brainfog which I then started to suffer. Without proper sleep anyone's brain starts to misfire but added to the neural damage of ME it's a sure fire way of not being able to function normally.
My sleep at that time was severely affected. Sometimes this meant being awake all night and, obviously, tired all day. Sometimes I did sleep at night, though the sleep was not like real sleep at all. I would become unconscious, switch off you might say, but wake suddenly in the morning without any sense of having slept. No drowsiness, no dreams, and I hadn't moved at all during the night. I don't know what kind of sleep that describes, not being an expert, but it isn't normal and it isn't refreshing or healing.
It would appear that, although I went to sleep, it was only into stage 1 light sleep; I never entered REM sleep in which dreams occur, or reached deep or slow wave/delta wave, sleep. During the deep stages of non REM sleep, the body repairs and regenerates tissues, builds bone and muscle, and appears to strengthen the immune system. So without that it's hardly surprising that ME sufferers are very ill.
I still have disturbed nights and reversed inner time clock issues, though when I do sleep now I do tend to sleep "properly". I have dreams, and often feel that warm drowsiness on waking, though not always.
However, when this lack of proper sleep goes on for months or years, it's no wonder the brain starts to give up. The inability to concentrate is the most obvious symptom. Reading, a favourite pastime, became such hard work. After a very short time my brain would feel "full". And, worse, I would read the same sentence over and over again before it made any sense. Watching tv game shows used to be fun, but now I found that by the time the presenter had got to the end of a question I'd forgotten the start of it. My short term memory was shot.
Losing words, in the way a stroke victim does, is also a problem. Everyone has this problem at times of course, especially as we get older, but with brainfog it's constant. Searching for the word you want is so frustrating, but in time I learned to stop trying and just either find another word that means the same, or just describe the thing I meant. I find now that just changing the subject in my mind, looking away as it were, makes it easier. When I stop trying, the word I wanted will sometimes just pop into my mind.
Personally I also lost the ability to type. I had been touch typing for many years but suddenly I found that, although I knew what I wanted to type, my fingers weren't getting the messages from the brain. I would type with the correct fingers but on the wrong hand, or the letters came out in the wrong order, and my thumbs developed a mind of their own and stuck spaces in wherever they felt like it. It's like a kind of dyslexia in reverse. There may be a name for it but I don't that.
This is all very irritating of course. I still tend to spend more time correcting my typos than actually typing, thought it's not as bad as it used to be. At my worst I simply couldn't remember the alphabet. And at my age that's not funny. Well, not very funny.
Brainfog, therefore, is a way of describing the brain's inability to think, to concentrate, to work things out. Pretty much as it sounds really. I have to say that I have improved to some extent. I put it down to the handfuls of supplements, recommended by Dr Myhill, an ME specialist; in particular the brain feeding ones, which made a huge difference to my ability to sleep. Fish oils or other foods containing EPA and DHA for instance. The brain is something like 60% fatty tissue, so feeding this is important. However the thing that made the biggest change for me was PhosphatidylSerine, sometimes written as two words, an amino acid vital for neural function. Although normally the body can create it from foods it is being looked at now as a supplement for Alzheimer's patients.
I've seen various articles saying that PS helps, or it doesn't help, or it may help. All I know is that within a few days of taking it I started to sleep normally and over time my brainfog has improved. One quote says:
"Because PS is necessary for effective neurotransmission, PS deficiency is linked to mental impairment, including Alzheimer's and non-Alzheimer's dementia, depression and Parkinson's disease among middle-aged and elderly people."
To have a brain that is akin to an elderly person with dementia, while you are still young, or fairly young, is very frustrating. We call it brainfog. It occurs in people with Fibromyalgia I understand, and quite possibly in other long term disabilities. My own experience is that it can be improved, if not entirely cured. I hope something I have shared here makes sense to others. I still have some problems myself, after all.
Saturday, 1 February 2014
It's the Little Things.
It's the little things. The big things, well, people understand it more. For instance, I haven't been able to go shopping for years now. It's tough not being able to choose your own groceries or whatever, something most people don't have to think about, but at least there are supermarkets who will do it for you and deliver their choices to your door. This works well enough most of the time until they don't have what you ordered and the person doing the choosing for you has very different ideas from you. It's a bit like Christmas, every week, but not in a good way. You open the bag wondering what surprise you're in for this time. Will it be something you wanted, or not?
Like most people who get home deliveries I have been presented with substitutions - food I would never buy, don't like, would never eat, or just don't want. I am then in a dilemma. If I don't take it, what do I eat instead? And if I send it back it will just be thrown away, which I find unacceptable. Problem. Stress. Stress I don't need. But on the whole I manage.
Going out when absolutely necessary is simple, I call a cab and struggle the rest of the way.
Housework? It just doesn't get done, mostly. Luckily I was never all that houseproud. My bedroom looks like a jumble sale. The living room is in chaos. I always joke that no one will ever break in because it looks like the place has been turned over already. I move hesitantly, sloth like, around the house, resembling mountaineers at a high altitude, body and brain on go slow. Except when they're at a dead stop. But there's no one here to see it, so I don't care.
No, like I say, it's the little things. Like turning over in bed. You're probably thinking: "What? Turning over in bed? I can do that in my sleep!" Indeed you can, and I'm sure you do. Film of sleeping people shows just how often most people do it, moving around all night long. I used to do it myself once. And on good nights I still do. But on the bad ones...well. The thing is, we have to turn sometimes to keep the circulation going, to avoid pressure sores, going numb, etc. But if your body is flatly refusing to do it, what then? I have nights where I wake up in exactly the same position I went to sleep in, having not moved at all, the sheets totally undisturbed. I have other nights where I wake up just to turn over, because it takes quite a lot of concentration. Oh yes.
It's as if my subconscious is behaving like an orchestra without a conductor. No one is telling which bit of me to move next. Even awake it can be just the same. Have you seen those people who scale sheer rock faces with no help? That three points of contact rule. It's a bit like that sometimes. Move this foot, move this hand, now this one, now that one, and so on, until you get where you want to be. It can take quite a time. And a lot of effort, when your limbs feel like lead. Such a little thing, you'd think, but it takes forever.
Making a cup of tea is another. You're sitting in your seat with a dry mouth, trying to decide if you really need that drink or can you do without a bit longer. It does make me sound awfully lazy, I know. But it's not that. It's the effort it takes to haul your body out of the chair, stumble to the kitchen, then realising you didn't bring your cup with you so you have to go back for it. Then you fill the cup with water and tip it into the lightweight camping kettle to boil. You put the teabag into the cup, pour on the water, shuffle over to the fridge for milk, add the milk, go back to the fridge to put the milk away. Then you have to pick up the cup of tea which feels like a lead weight and try to get it back to the living room without spilling it, set it down and collapse into the chair. By which time you're too exhausted to drink it.
Another little adventure, just one of many during the day in the life of someone with ME.
But before you can start your day of course you have to get out of bed. Now many people will lie in bed thinking about whether they want to get up or not. Not many people lie in bed thinking about how they are going to get up. I do. On bad days anyway. On good days, if I've been sleeping well for a while and have some energy to spare I can get out of bed reasonably easily. Even if it means forcing myself to find the energy, which is counter productive as I suffer for it later. On bad days it's a whole other story.
Imagine waking up and you can't move. Your whole body feels like lead, lifeless, heavy, immovable, like gravity has increased somehow in the night. After a time you can maybe open your eyes, perhaps wiggle toes or a little finger. Good! You wait. After a time you can turn your head. Great! Wait some more and the arms feel like they're less heavy, so you try moving them. Yes! Success! The body is still lying there like a beached whale, but things are improving. In time you can wriggle a bit but the legs are still lying there, two great lumps of meat. Oh you can feel it if you touch them. They aren't numb. Just going nowhere. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, you can move them a bit, slide them around on the bed. The beached whale has gone, to be replaced by an elephant seal. Things are looking up!
That's when I wait until I start to feel my bladder. When I feel that it needs emptying I know my body has finally woken up and I can make it off the bed to stagger with still wobbly legs to the bathroom. Rather like a mermaid newly transformed who isn't used to having legs yet.
This whole procedure can take up to an hour. For me it's never a case of do I want to get up. I have never enjoyed just lying in bed doing nothing. But now I spend most of my time reclining or lying, occasionally sitting, and rarely walking. Boring? Yes, it can be, though I have my computer and books and so on to stop me from going stir crazy.
Every little thing has to be thought about, things others take for granted, things I once took for granted. And this with a brain that is itself compromised. Short term memory is crap. Sometimes I feel like I'm developing dementia but I know it isn't that. It's just ME. Just, she says. Right.
Yes, I know there those much worse off than me, some who can never leave their beds at all, who can't stand any noise or light, have to be tube fed, or are stuck in hospitals being treated like criminals. I am extremely thankful that my level of disability allows me some modicum of independence. I would go crazy otherwise, not being good around people. I am thankful that I have a home, a pension which allows me to eat and buy the essentials, a daughter who cares even if she can't visit often. Maybe it's being thankful for those things that keeps me going. The big things. But the little things? Those are a nightmare.
Like most people who get home deliveries I have been presented with substitutions - food I would never buy, don't like, would never eat, or just don't want. I am then in a dilemma. If I don't take it, what do I eat instead? And if I send it back it will just be thrown away, which I find unacceptable. Problem. Stress. Stress I don't need. But on the whole I manage.
Going out when absolutely necessary is simple, I call a cab and struggle the rest of the way.
Housework? It just doesn't get done, mostly. Luckily I was never all that houseproud. My bedroom looks like a jumble sale. The living room is in chaos. I always joke that no one will ever break in because it looks like the place has been turned over already. I move hesitantly, sloth like, around the house, resembling mountaineers at a high altitude, body and brain on go slow. Except when they're at a dead stop. But there's no one here to see it, so I don't care.
No, like I say, it's the little things. Like turning over in bed. You're probably thinking: "What? Turning over in bed? I can do that in my sleep!" Indeed you can, and I'm sure you do. Film of sleeping people shows just how often most people do it, moving around all night long. I used to do it myself once. And on good nights I still do. But on the bad ones...well. The thing is, we have to turn sometimes to keep the circulation going, to avoid pressure sores, going numb, etc. But if your body is flatly refusing to do it, what then? I have nights where I wake up in exactly the same position I went to sleep in, having not moved at all, the sheets totally undisturbed. I have other nights where I wake up just to turn over, because it takes quite a lot of concentration. Oh yes.
It's as if my subconscious is behaving like an orchestra without a conductor. No one is telling which bit of me to move next. Even awake it can be just the same. Have you seen those people who scale sheer rock faces with no help? That three points of contact rule. It's a bit like that sometimes. Move this foot, move this hand, now this one, now that one, and so on, until you get where you want to be. It can take quite a time. And a lot of effort, when your limbs feel like lead. Such a little thing, you'd think, but it takes forever.
Making a cup of tea is another. You're sitting in your seat with a dry mouth, trying to decide if you really need that drink or can you do without a bit longer. It does make me sound awfully lazy, I know. But it's not that. It's the effort it takes to haul your body out of the chair, stumble to the kitchen, then realising you didn't bring your cup with you so you have to go back for it. Then you fill the cup with water and tip it into the lightweight camping kettle to boil. You put the teabag into the cup, pour on the water, shuffle over to the fridge for milk, add the milk, go back to the fridge to put the milk away. Then you have to pick up the cup of tea which feels like a lead weight and try to get it back to the living room without spilling it, set it down and collapse into the chair. By which time you're too exhausted to drink it.
Another little adventure, just one of many during the day in the life of someone with ME.
But before you can start your day of course you have to get out of bed. Now many people will lie in bed thinking about whether they want to get up or not. Not many people lie in bed thinking about how they are going to get up. I do. On bad days anyway. On good days, if I've been sleeping well for a while and have some energy to spare I can get out of bed reasonably easily. Even if it means forcing myself to find the energy, which is counter productive as I suffer for it later. On bad days it's a whole other story.
Imagine waking up and you can't move. Your whole body feels like lead, lifeless, heavy, immovable, like gravity has increased somehow in the night. After a time you can maybe open your eyes, perhaps wiggle toes or a little finger. Good! You wait. After a time you can turn your head. Great! Wait some more and the arms feel like they're less heavy, so you try moving them. Yes! Success! The body is still lying there like a beached whale, but things are improving. In time you can wriggle a bit but the legs are still lying there, two great lumps of meat. Oh you can feel it if you touch them. They aren't numb. Just going nowhere. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, you can move them a bit, slide them around on the bed. The beached whale has gone, to be replaced by an elephant seal. Things are looking up!
That's when I wait until I start to feel my bladder. When I feel that it needs emptying I know my body has finally woken up and I can make it off the bed to stagger with still wobbly legs to the bathroom. Rather like a mermaid newly transformed who isn't used to having legs yet.
This whole procedure can take up to an hour. For me it's never a case of do I want to get up. I have never enjoyed just lying in bed doing nothing. But now I spend most of my time reclining or lying, occasionally sitting, and rarely walking. Boring? Yes, it can be, though I have my computer and books and so on to stop me from going stir crazy.
Every little thing has to be thought about, things others take for granted, things I once took for granted. And this with a brain that is itself compromised. Short term memory is crap. Sometimes I feel like I'm developing dementia but I know it isn't that. It's just ME. Just, she says. Right.
Yes, I know there those much worse off than me, some who can never leave their beds at all, who can't stand any noise or light, have to be tube fed, or are stuck in hospitals being treated like criminals. I am extremely thankful that my level of disability allows me some modicum of independence. I would go crazy otherwise, not being good around people. I am thankful that I have a home, a pension which allows me to eat and buy the essentials, a daughter who cares even if she can't visit often. Maybe it's being thankful for those things that keeps me going. The big things. But the little things? Those are a nightmare.
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
Maybe it's Enough.
Maybe it's Enough
I’m getting tired of married men and being second best.
but why stop at number two, there’s three and all the rest.
I know I’m well down on the list, but that’s how it has to be:
I’m there whenever he needs it, but he’s rarely there for me.
Why can’t I ever fall in love with a man who’s all alone,
who doesn’t have to sneak around, one who I can phone;
who’d be there when I’m lonely or need to talk a while
instead of “sorry I have to go” with a sweet but hurried smile.
He loves me, yes of course he does, in ways that mean a lot,
but love that leaves me lonely is all the love I’ve got.
I think about it often, I’m far too nice, it’s said,
or should that be enabling, or not right in the head.
A women who loves in this way believes it’s all she’s worth,
and better some than none at all as long as she’s on the earth.
They say there’s someone for everyone, though finding them is tough,
but this one’s been the best so far. Maybe that’s enough.
CS 12/2013
I’m getting tired of married men and being second best.
but why stop at number two, there’s three and all the rest.
I know I’m well down on the list, but that’s how it has to be:
I’m there whenever he needs it, but he’s rarely there for me.
Why can’t I ever fall in love with a man who’s all alone,
who doesn’t have to sneak around, one who I can phone;
who’d be there when I’m lonely or need to talk a while
instead of “sorry I have to go” with a sweet but hurried smile.
He loves me, yes of course he does, in ways that mean a lot,
but love that leaves me lonely is all the love I’ve got.
I think about it often, I’m far too nice, it’s said,
or should that be enabling, or not right in the head.
A women who loves in this way believes it’s all she’s worth,
and better some than none at all as long as she’s on the earth.
They say there’s someone for everyone, though finding them is tough,
but this one’s been the best so far. Maybe that’s enough.
CS 12/2013
Saturday, 4 January 2014
What Is Wrong With The World
I feel so sad for the seal.
Nature is red in tooth and claw
but the orca must have its meal.
And didn’t the seal eat fish in its turn,
in its graceful sinuous dive?
And those fish ate krill or smaller fish
killing to stay alive?
Lions and tigers feed their cubs
on grazing elegant deer,
or whatever vegetarian
should happen to appear.
I’m told by others time and again
that I shouldn’t eat living things,
whether fish or fowl or good red meat
that travel on feet or wings.
My only excuse is, in gratitude,
I try not to cause them strife,
but try to ensure what few I take
had a peaceful, outdoor life;
a cherished life and an easy death:
its the least that I can do,
but still I am troubled that something must die,
for plants are living things too!
Life is a funny old thing all round,
the carbon cycle goes on.
We live and pass on our DNA
even after we’re gone.
In dust our elements fioat on the wind
to become something else by and by,
rebirth is reality time and again,
how else can I not sit and cry?
To see baby penguins freeze on the ice,
or elephants killed by men:
it’s all too cruel to contemplate.
I wonder where will it end.
Of course many deaths are natural,
it's sad but just their lot.
But so many deaths are down to us,
whether used as food or not.
To take a few, to feed ourselves
may not be to everyone's taste,
but to kill for ornament, or for pride,
is such a terrible waste.
Humanity has to think about how
it treats fellow creatures, and soon,
before we turn this beautiful earth
into something more like the moon.
One cannot legislate for greed
or the unthinking ways that prevail.
Tigers aren’t medicine, rhinos can’t help
when masculine members fail.
Perhaps if we all spread the message around,
educate people with fact,
we can call a halt to the needless deaths
and do it with kindness and tact.
For ignorance often lies behind
the awful carnage we see.
If we care for creation, let’s cherish it all
and let it begin with me.
© Jan 2014
Wednesday, 25 December 2013
Another Merry Christmas
Another blast from the past... written 12/24/2002 4:58 PM, before I became housebound.
Christmas Eve. Late afternoon. Sheffield.
Today I decided to go and do some shopping. It was either that or go without Christmas Dinner altogether. I did have a cold sausage left over, but, well, you know. It's bad enough being alone at Christmas without sitting down to a left over sausage decorated with a sprig of holly.
If I had any holly of course.
Fortunately the shops are open Christmas eve, so no problem there. Unfortunately my legs were on a go slow while debating the advisability of going on an all out strike.
Fortunately I have a wheeled shopping trolley so I walked (walked? Make that staggered) it round to where I garage my car. Unfortunately, the car had decided that this was a good day to die. So it did.
Fortunately, the shop I wanted is a downhill walk, though of some distance. Unfortunately this means that it's an uphill walk back with a full shopping trolley.
Fortunately it was a nice dry day for a walk, and I managed to get everything I'd written on my list. Unfortunately I'd forgotten to write "Stuffing" on my list.
Fortunately the fish and chip shop was on the way home, and open, so I treated myself to battered cod and chips to eat out of the wrappings on the way home. Not easy while using both hands to push a loaded trolley uphill, but worth it I thought.
Unfortunately it started to rain at that point, so I stuffed the yummy hot food into the trolley to eat it later. With luck it would still be warm by the time I got it home.
Fortunately it wasn't too cold, and I enjoyed it. Unfortunately so did my cat.
Fortunately I had some time to spare so I thought it would be nice then to go online and see what delights Christmas would bring to a lonely old woman. Unfortuately what I received was a rude email from someone I'd thought was a friend. Huh.
Things were getting better by the minute. I poured myself a drink to calm down or cheer up, or something like that. Fortunately I had bought some in advance of Christmas. Good job too.
Unfortunately alcohol makes me ill, so I just know that I'm going to pay for this.
What more can happen? No, don't tell me. I really don't want to know.
Merry Christmas everybody.
Christmas Eve. Late afternoon. Sheffield.
Today I decided to go and do some shopping. It was either that or go without Christmas Dinner altogether. I did have a cold sausage left over, but, well, you know. It's bad enough being alone at Christmas without sitting down to a left over sausage decorated with a sprig of holly.
If I had any holly of course.
Fortunately the shops are open Christmas eve, so no problem there. Unfortunately my legs were on a go slow while debating the advisability of going on an all out strike.
Fortunately I have a wheeled shopping trolley so I walked (walked? Make that staggered) it round to where I garage my car. Unfortunately, the car had decided that this was a good day to die. So it did.
Fortunately, the shop I wanted is a downhill walk, though of some distance. Unfortunately this means that it's an uphill walk back with a full shopping trolley.
Fortunately it was a nice dry day for a walk, and I managed to get everything I'd written on my list. Unfortunately I'd forgotten to write "Stuffing" on my list.
Fortunately the fish and chip shop was on the way home, and open, so I treated myself to battered cod and chips to eat out of the wrappings on the way home. Not easy while using both hands to push a loaded trolley uphill, but worth it I thought.
Unfortunately it started to rain at that point, so I stuffed the yummy hot food into the trolley to eat it later. With luck it would still be warm by the time I got it home.
Fortunately it wasn't too cold, and I enjoyed it. Unfortunately so did my cat.
Fortunately I had some time to spare so I thought it would be nice then to go online and see what delights Christmas would bring to a lonely old woman. Unfortuately what I received was a rude email from someone I'd thought was a friend. Huh.
Things were getting better by the minute. I poured myself a drink to calm down or cheer up, or something like that. Fortunately I had bought some in advance of Christmas. Good job too.
Unfortunately alcohol makes me ill, so I just know that I'm going to pay for this.
What more can happen? No, don't tell me. I really don't want to know.
Merry Christmas everybody.
Saturday, 21 December 2013
She
It was Henry Rider Haggard who wrote about She who must be obeyed. I think I may have read the book once but don't really remember the details. Maybe I saw a film of it.
However, I was reminded of it last night, whilst thinking about some people in my life; people I would describe as a force of nature. The kind of people who go through life with all the drive of a hurricane or a flood, carrying all before them. If I mention Hyacinth Bucket, or Keeping Up Appearances, you should get the idea. She, or he, who must be obeyed.
There is no implied threat of punishment, nothing to give just cause to their demands. It is just expected that you will agree with whatever they want. Saying no simply isn't an option. Unless of course you are as strong willed as they are and can walk away unscathed and guilt free.
Are such people are deliberately or intentionally bullying? I don't believe so, nonetheless that's what it is. They seem to think that if they want to do something it should be done. They make plans which brook no opposition. It doesn't even occur to such people that others may have plans of their own which they are interfering with, or destroying.
It can be very wearing living with such people. You have to either simply acquiesce, go along with whatever is expected, or become very frustrated.
Is it good for such people to have everyone bow down to their wishes? Hard to say. I have tried standing up to them but often I have felt like the proverbial "idiot child", knowing nothing, having no say in what happens to me. I have learned in time to not mind that. Being humbled is good for the soul, or so they tell me. Life is certainly easier if you bend before the wind, go with the flow.
However, I was reminded of it last night, whilst thinking about some people in my life; people I would describe as a force of nature. The kind of people who go through life with all the drive of a hurricane or a flood, carrying all before them. If I mention Hyacinth Bucket, or Keeping Up Appearances, you should get the idea. She, or he, who must be obeyed.
There is no implied threat of punishment, nothing to give just cause to their demands. It is just expected that you will agree with whatever they want. Saying no simply isn't an option. Unless of course you are as strong willed as they are and can walk away unscathed and guilt free.
Are such people are deliberately or intentionally bullying? I don't believe so, nonetheless that's what it is. They seem to think that if they want to do something it should be done. They make plans which brook no opposition. It doesn't even occur to such people that others may have plans of their own which they are interfering with, or destroying.
It can be very wearing living with such people. You have to either simply acquiesce, go along with whatever is expected, or become very frustrated.
Is it good for such people to have everyone bow down to their wishes? Hard to say. I have tried standing up to them but often I have felt like the proverbial "idiot child", knowing nothing, having no say in what happens to me. I have learned in time to not mind that. Being humbled is good for the soul, or so they tell me. Life is certainly easier if you bend before the wind, go with the flow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)