Resuming Old Habits.

I seem to be suffering an intermittent recurrence of the old Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which received so much airplay on this blog six or seven years ago. Symptoms include getting no more than around six hours sleep in bed, and then falling asleep in front of the computer in the evening and waking up feeling like a week-dead cod fish which even the local feral cat won't eat.

And yet today I went for a longer walk than has become usual during the post-operative period, in the course of which I saw somebody driving up the lane who I thought to be in Australia judging by the unreliable evidence of my stats trackers. There’s definitely something odd going on with my blog visits lately, so much so that I’ve taken to feeling that I’m being watched surreptitiously from behind a metaphorical tree.

But at least today’s unexpected sighting brought a couple of meaningful revelations in its wake:

1. If somebody takes something precious away from you which was never yours in the first place, there's no way of justifying the irrational sense that you've been robbed.

2. You can’t realistically call yourself weird until you start wearing odd socks habitually and unselfconsciously.

It seems the resurgence of old ailments has a habit of encouraging uncomfortable memories and unusual thoughts. If the next set of CT scans – which are due in the spring – reveal that I’ve used up all my Christmases after all, I might just manage a rueful smile.