Bitch on the Blog

July 28, 2014

Beanstalks

Filed under: Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 11:28
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I need to “grow up”. Because what I gather from grown ups that – once you ARE grown up – you become cynical, tough skinned and generally pretend to not give a toss about kicking others in the shin.

Count me out.

I will concede that life is shit at times. As are people. But please please please do not try to rob me of my belief in, well, I don’t know: Whatever is good in the world. Even if everyone around you is pissing in the wind. Which reminds me of, say, latrines. Or worse. Here is one for you, Friko: Plumpsklo. Oh my god. Those were the days. At least one could have a good honest shit without flushing the loo as if it had never happened.

U

 

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15 Comments »

  1. Don’t grow up…. after all, it is optional.

    Thunderbox! I just had to look it up you know!
    Contrary to popular perception I did have some good times as a child. Like reading The Specialst by Charles Sale….. Early on I had to have some help with understanding words but once I understood then my imagination was well away….. I still have my father’s copy and a couple more …… If you ever find a copy buy it…. I forget how many printings it went into.

    BTW we had and used a Thunderbox up until 1971 at my parents home… my mother then moved house….. I wish I had known about HUmanure in those days.

    Comment by magpie11 — July 28, 2014 @ 12:21 | Reply

    • A “thunderbox till 1971”? Certainly no rush there to join sanitation.

      After reading your comment I dug out “Clean and Decent – The Fascinating History of the Bathroom and Water Closet”. Yes. Really. That’s the sort of thing, Magpie, I do keep on my book shelves.

      It’s one of the more irritating factors when you watch period drama. You know: They did actually pour out content of their chamber pots out of the window onto the road. To join horse droppings. Which shows you how topsy turvy the world is: In those days women wore long dresses, skimming the ground (perish the thought). No sooner were we able to flush we all ran around in miniskirts.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2014 @ 13:41 | Reply

  2. I’m well into adulthood but I have no wish to be cynical, tough-skinned or kicking others in the shin. I treat people with respect and I hope others will treat me the same way. People who’re cynical and tough-skinned must have lost all the joy they ever got from life.

    Comment by nick — July 28, 2014 @ 17:33 | Reply

    • Dear Nick, I think to be tough skinned more a gift than a curse. Whilst many things touch me deeply if I hadn’t been born with a tough skin I’d probably not be alive any longer.

      “Cynical” is very much open to interpretation as to its meaning. Intellectually I most certainly have the makings of a cynic. But it’s being kept in firm check by both my personality and my love of human beings. Let’s put it another way: Cynicism is like arsenic, any poison. A little won’t do any harm. May even add to your own and anyone else’s amusement. Just don’t overdo it or you mind find yourself dead.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2014 @ 13:32 | Reply

  3. Don’t you dare……..I would miss the ” mad as a box of frogs” way at looking at life

    Comment by John going gently — July 28, 2014 @ 21:03 | Reply

    • My dear dear John, greetings to Albert. I love that cat. Hope you have amended your will as requested.

      “… box of frogs”? Haven’t you got enough wildlife on your hands? Leaving rabbits aside: I remember our cats donating gifts of enduring love at my feet. My goodness. Half dead frogs. Let me know if I haven’t told you already (which I am sure I have) how to resuscitate a traumatized frog with cats and their hunter’s nature circling at plastic bowl. It’s an exercise in logistics.

      Other than that: In the time it took me to look up how to spell “resuscitate” a frog may have died.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2014 @ 13:20 | Reply

  4. I’m none of these things, I do hope, even though I’ve been kicked in the shins by those I loved the most.
    I remain baffled and puzzled but positive. Most of the time. But always respectful. Unless you throw sand in my face.

    XO
    WWW

    Comment by wisewebwoman — July 29, 2014 @ 00:21 | Reply

    • “Baffled” is the keyword, WWW. If I were a giraffe or an ostrich I sometimes couldn’t contort my neck enough to get my head round some of the ways of the world.

      There you go: From your “sand” straight to my ‘ostrich’. Let the desert blast over us. Eyes closed, head in sand. Then emerge like Phoenix or Aurora.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2014 @ 13:09 | Reply

  5. Having achieved my Masters in cynicism I must take issue with your (implied) definition: being cynical does not mean kicking others but, rather, not always expecting decent behaviour from others, in politics, religion, or ordinary interaction between ordinary people. Lots of people are kind and friendly and will not do you down but, in my experience, being prepared for a possible kick in the shin does no harm.And, being a cynic, doesn’t make me kick others but encourages me to keep a healthy distance.

    Plumpsklo! How that takes me back. I actually remember using one. Do you? You must be a bit older than I thought. Donnerbalken! Can’t say my memories of the outhouse facilities are 100% pleasant.

    Comment by friko — July 29, 2014 @ 09:53 | Reply

    • Yes, “Donnerbalken”, Friko. What a great term. Completely forgotten about it. I don’t know how old you think I am (five) but used a perfectly good indoors loo when five. Except when I visited one of my uncles. He had married a farmer’s daughter and they lived with the in-laws. Right up there on the Alm. Donnerbalken. Enough to make you go all constipated. Never mind. On my return home my grandmother was on stand-bye with a tablespoon of castor oil. In order to appreciate “texture” you need to have swallowed castor oil. Remember it to this day. No, I did not gag. But never again. Warm water and a freshly squeezed lemon, first thing in the morning, will do.

      And then, in my teens, some friends (he was a Uni professor – Sociology, she his long suffering wife and a lovely woman) bought a farm as a second home. In the middle of nowhere. Great for their little kids. Woods, meadows, it was paradise. Except for lack of hot water. Wasserpumpe im Hof. And the blasted Donnerbalken. Though in my case more plumps than donner. As an aside: It’s one of those charmed places I wouldn’t wish to “re-visit” all these years later. Why? Because it was perfect. Now? I bet it’s been refurbished and thus has lost a lot of its original charm. I don’t know how you find it but when I went back to the village of my earliest childhood I was shocked at how different our perspective is when tiny to that when what once was a fair distance now amounts to a two minute walk. And everything being so much smaller. Strange experience. Sometimes it’s best to live in a memory. Flush or no flush.

      As to your observation about cynicism I agree with you. Unfortunately, unlike the more wise, I do not hold, as advised by you’ “my distance” from anyone. Cue shin. No wonder I am limping (not literally) at times.

      Imagining you in your lovely garden,
      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2014 @ 13:02 | Reply

  6. Perhaps the problem with the world is that skins are too thick. Thinner skins may lead to kinder interactions. 🙂

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — July 30, 2014 @ 17:26 | Reply

    • Yes and no, Lorna. It’s an interesting and good observation of yours. Need to think about it a bit more. Give it the time it deserves and will come back to you.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 31, 2014 @ 11:30 | Reply

    • Oh, Ramana, thank you so much for the link. The article caused me much amusement on so many counts I don’t know where to start (or, rather, to stop).

      Once upon a time someone who knows me well, and several people agreed, that if you wanted to find me I’d either be behind the pages of some broadsheet (quietly shedding tears at the vileness of the world), tinkering in the kitchen or, most likely, in the shower. Which is, no doubt, why my skin is currently not on speaking terms with me.

      One of the article’s assertions does surprise me: It’s always been said that a shower wastes a lot less water than a bath. I am most definitely a shower person. All that lingering in a bath watching the skin of your fingertips wrinkle does nothing to enhance my pleasure.

      Anyway, water – in England – is a basic right. So whilst you may not pay your water bill on time they can’t cut you off like any other utility service will. I had a meter installed because I am incredulous at how much water costs. Particularly in England (was it last year or the year before when they put a hose pipe ban on? In April. IN APRIL). I tell, you, Ramana, probably no different to where you live: You have to have some/any sort of humoUr to live in England. Meanwhile, naturally, everyone buys water (to drink) in bottles.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — August 1, 2014 @ 13:42 | Reply


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