Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Tonight's Late Notes.

I seem to have developed another ‘condition.’ When I woke up this morning, I found that I was getting dull pains in various parts of my chest and back every time I breathed in. Still am. So who wants to be the first to make the obvious joke? I wonder whether it’s pleurisy. I was always curious to know what pleurisy is, but I’m not any more.

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Son of Frothgar is due to return to the fjords tomorrow (well, Bignall End, Stoke-on-Trent to be precise,) while the little Ford should be coming home to his little rectangle of tarmac in The Shire (where the garage used to be.) Maybe that’s just as well, since it wouldn’t surprise me if the Danish Great Army rampaged mercilessly across this part of England back in the 9th century, and who wants to be reminded of that? And I do realise that Denmark has no more fjords than Morecombe Bay, but you get my drift.

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You know how it is when something’s really turning you inside out, and somebody says ‘You don’t want to worry about that. Just ignore it.’ Only non-HSP types say ‘just ignore it.’ Don’t they know, poor deluded fools, that if there’s one thing the HSP type is singularly ill-equipped to do, it’s ignore something?

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I’m hoping that Mr Rob is going to weigh my hoard of gold treasure tomorrow and tell me how wealthy I have the potential to be. (Mr Rob knows about gold. He bandies phrases like ‘the bullion rate’ with as much ease as you or I would say ‘the price of baked beans’ or ‘it’s a bit black over Willie’s mother’s.’) It doesn’t amount to much – just my late mother’s charm bracelet, my old wedding ring, and a rather mysterious swastika that my step-grandfather gave to my mother when I was little. I was always a bit uneasy about having a gold swastika sitting in the drawer, so maybe it’s better that it be melted down and turned into an eternity ring for a couple of crooning lovers in Bognor Regis. Out of the strong shall pour sweetness. It used to say that on the cans of black treacle and golden syrup when I was a kid.

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My toaster just burned my piece of toast. Oh no, not again?

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Do I need a drink?! I need a drink. That is, another one.

6 comments:

Sara said...

"Just ignore it!"

"Oh, yes, THANK YOU for that excellent advice." And then in my fantasy, I tell them where they can stick that glorious piece of wisdom.

I have the tendency to worry something in my mind until it's as smooth as a river stone. That happens more than I'm happy to admit. Guess that means my head is full of rocks.

Sounds like yours may be, too. From what I've read, your worries are perfectly legitimate, Jeff.

JJ Beazley said...

Thank you, Sara. You got an 'aw, shucks' out of me.

I think it's a shame that our culture tends to denigrate those who live close to their emotions. Logic has its place, but it's such a grey quality. Emotion is a rainbow.

Sara said...

Those who live close to their emotions are widely considered weak, which just doesn't make sense to my mind. I tend to think it's quite the opposite. I dance in the fire, yet am not burned. Don't need to put up barriers between my rational mind and the deep feeler beyond.

JJ Beazley said...

Would it be expressing the same thing in a different way to suggest that those who live close to their emotions have to be strong to avoid going under?

What fire would that be? Don't answer!

Sara said...

As in emotions are water... I suppose it would. Elemental metaphors are oh-so-tasty.

JJ Beazley said...

I suppose that's because the elements are the most powerful things in the physical world.