Bitch on the Blog

October 5, 2011

Don’t bank on it

Filed under: Despair — bitchontheblog @ 11:01
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Am in repose (a state of calm and peace).

Have decided that I live in the wrong time. It’s all very well not to be plagued by cow pox after Jenner squashed them. I have missed my boat. Just contemplated Virginia Woolf and the stones in her pocket before she entered the stream. And no, I am not suicidal. You do have to admire the woman’s forethought. Imagine she’d changed her mind half way into the river – minus the rocks. That would have been me: Result: Zilch. I’d still be alive. Only wet. With a lot of explaining to do.

I hate water. Always have. Not water you wash yourself and surroundings with. Just water. Deep. Swim across a lake. Don’t know what’s lurking down there. Try and think of other things – like the shore. Try not to think that you will have to swim back across same lake. Why do you do this? To please your grandfather, and anyway a sense of adventure (yes, I know I said it yesterday) bred  in my bone. In truth I wish I lived in Victorian times, with a corset stringing me up so tightly the slightest (e)motion would make me faint. Smelling salts. Gently lifted onto the sofa. Everyone (mainly the paid to do so) fawning to my every sigh and whim.

There is an author whose heroine I could have been and made him even greater than he already is. Yes, Dickens too, Though he is not my first choice. But he’d have loved me. As much as he loved any of his characters. I wish I were Dickens myself. His output. And that was before typewriters. Instead of which I am … in repose. Neither is my phone working. I can receive calls, but can’t call out. Post tele philosophy. Have added to my will that I wish to be buried (not burnt, buried) with a phone – surely someone will keep my credit topped up.




  1. Ah! Dickens: The author who never used a single word when a half dozen would do.

    And why? Because he paid himself…… by the word.

    Of course walking around the edge of the lake is always to be preferred for the plants and wildlife you may come across. Sometimes the life can be embarrassingly wild of course.

    And what lurks in the depths? Giant pike and imagination I should think.

    Comment by magpie11 — October 5, 2011 @ 11:17 | Reply

  2. As a kid I was always in the water at Rock Lake. Was hot in West Virginia. So I was a good swimmer. Once I swam far out into the ocean. Mother sent my brother after me. I didn’t know about rip tides then. After reading about them – HORRORS

    My very favorite book is…I forget. But it was about Virginia Woolf or at least related to her. It had three layers; three stories that seemed unrelated, different generations even. But at the end you found out they all were related. Darn! I’ll tell you the title later when (if) I think of it.

    Dickens I read Pickwick Papers, Tale of Two Cities, David Copperfield, Bleak House. I’d have to read others to find out why he’d be a good lover.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — October 5, 2011 @ 17:11 | Reply

  3. Even in a state of repose, your mind seems to be racing. I like that about you. So you would have liked living in Victorian times? To be Dickens, his heroine, his muse? Tell me, would you have liked to be a heroine who lived a long life or one whose star shone brightly for too short a period of time, doused tragically premature and leaving behind an image of permanent youthfulness?

    And if you are to be buried with a phone, would you mind if I called in the middle of your funeral service just to have some fun rattling the priests and mourners alike? I’m pretty sure God has a sense of humor. If not, well there’s always that other place…

    Comment by Phil — October 5, 2011 @ 18:48 | Reply

  4. Did you really say you wanted to be Dickens’ lover? I missed that.

    Comment by magpie11 — October 5, 2011 @ 20:04 | Reply

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