A Whinge and a Recollection.

I don’t mix much with people these days. Most of what communion I have is with the natural denizens of the Shire – the birds, the animals, the trees, the hedgerows, the crops of bean and barley, and the riot of wild growth in the old fashioned hay meadow up the lane. And that’s why the only two activities which give me pleasure are walking and writing. My other activities are chores.

But I can’t walk the lanes and woods of the Shire now because of this problem with my left leg. I can just about manage 200yds before the ache gets so bad that I have to turn around and struggle back again, which means that I’m being kept from the company of those to whom I most relate.

(Oddly, my grandfather had a similar experience. When he contracted TB his wife kept him in a locked room to avoid contact with the children. My aunt once told me that they would often hear him weeping behind the locked door until he died.)

But at least the condition has taught me how much we take walking for granted and I suppose it’s never a bad thing to learn something new. Although I wonder yet again whether there is any point to learning late in life. The question obviously rests on a matter of unprovable speculation. Nevertheless, being kept from those elements which give me a reason to willingly get up in the morning is a little depressing. What’s also a little depressing is feeling like an invalid, especially since I don’t know what’s wrong and whether there's some remedy available to correct it.

(Incidentally, my doctor referred me to the vascular surgery clinic at the hospital but they tell me they don’t have any appointments available at the moment. They say they’ll contact me when they do. Unspecified waits can be a little depressing.)

The second thing which gives me pleasure is writing. The problem here is that being depressed causes me to be disinclined to write, which explains the recent pauses in the blog, just in case anybody's interested.

OK, that’s the whingey bit off my chest. And now for something completely different.

Since I’m not in the mood for writing anything original, I thought I’d go back down memory lane and pick out a few things once said to me by the person who used to bring sunshine into my life. I doubt anybody out there will find them interesting, but I do and it’s my blog. The fun part lies with inferring the context (in some cases.) Here goes:

Come closer so I can hear you.

Yeah, go for it.

You will find out one day, I promise.

Just feeling in need of a bit of Jeff chat.

Really sorry for the rant but I don’t really trust anyone else, they just say what I want to hear.

Your blog is my favourite bed time reading.

Jeff, you’re so clever, really you are. That is the best bed time story I have ever had.

I say all this but I don’t have a Scooby doo what I want.

I went to the village party and kept anticipating your arrival, but deep down I knew you wouldn’t show.

OK Jeff, that creeps me out.

I like to think we understand each other.

Oh, OK. That's a reasonable explanation.

I am still here you know, always.

It Was Me!!!

Life moves on, Jeff.

They’re mostly in chronological order, but not all. Some just came off the top of my head. And I wrote this while listening to the section labelled Andantino-Appassionato from the Serenade in A Minor by Ralph Vaughan Williams. They seemed to match very well. And isn’t it fortunate that the person who used to bring sunshine into my life no longer reads my blog. I doubt she reads in bed these days. Life does, indeed, move on.