On May and Happenings.

I think I wrote a post once about the significant things which happened in the month of May and which profoundly affected my life. I think I did, but I can’t be bothered to find out so I’ll write another one. The first three should (for reasons known only to me) be reported generically, and their relevance to my personal circumstances may be freely inferred.

May is the month when people go to Egypt, then return to the home shore and say ‘life moves on, Jeff.’ May is the month when precious people marry, and in so doing leave my orbit irrevocably and shut the door behind them. May is the month when they stand still and statuesque in the warmth of the late spring sunshine, the long, dark blue cotton maternity dress betraying a hint of the new life inside, entirely ignorant of my presence but presenting such a picture of incalculable loveliness that my heart leaps with the learning of a new lesson and the remembering of an old one: perception is the whole of the life experience.

So now let’s shift to a properly first person narrative. What of the more explicitly personal ones?

The two most unpleasant and mentally enervating jobs I ever had began in May, and they both ended in May. I met the woman who was to become my one and only official wife in May. And I’m fairly sure it was in May when she came back to the marital abode to collect her piano after our separation, and I never saw her again. My first footfall on a foreign shore was made in May, the shore being the concrete quayside of St John’s Newfoundland. My only visit to the Emerald Isle (land of my fathers by all accounts) was made in May, and the weather was unusually clement for that time of year in Ireland. And May was the month when I moved into this house, a change of circumstance which eventually led to my base psychic energy level shifting from positive to negative, and producing a catalogue of health issues which is still growing. It also led me into the blogging habit which has produced many questions and left me feeling less certain of anything than I have ever been. It has become my latest – and possibly my last – monomania.

Is that all of them? Probably not, but I’m too tired to wade through the morass of recollection so it will have to do. And will this May add anything to the list? I don’t know yet, do I?

But now the darkness of night is approaching under a heavy cloud cover, so it’s time to do the twilight chores. I might be back later.