Notes on Why.

A time to live, a time to die

A time to eat some apple pie

A time to jump, a time to lie

And never blessed with knowing why

*  *  *

I haven’t mentioned the Lady B (or her ghost) for some time, have I? That’s because her spirit in physical absentia hasn’t assaulted my being like a charging rhino for some time now, and also because it sometimes seems like a pointless thing to do. The Lady B is probably the most tantalizing mystery of my life, but only I can understand why. I'm sure she doesn't have a clue and there's no reason why she should. I’ve thought of writing the whole story down and posting it here, but that would mean breaking the odd confidence or two and revealing things about myself which I wouldn’t wish to reveal except to a most trusted confidante. Besides, no one would get it. I expect she will rise again like the phoenix one of these days, as is her habit.

*  *  *

‘Look at me. I’m 46 and have never left home. For the whole of my life I’ve lived with my parents. I’ve had a few boyfriends, but they were relatively superficial affairs and never lasted long. I’ve never been married, never had children, nor even lived the wild life. All I’ve done is kept my job and taken care of things.’

And this from one of the calmest, quietest, most consummately able people I’ve ever known. A delightful – maybe even inspirational – person who you would want to have with you in a crisis because she would handle it with relative ease. She handles everything with relative ease. Isn’t it a shame that people feel the impulse to denigrate themselves because they haven’t lived life in the manner prescribed by cultural convention?