Compliments

Sweethearts, the time has come to come clean. I am not who and what you think I am.

What I am is a Witch. Before you mutter to yourself “I knew it” – you are not alone. About two hours ago I passed two little boys (say about four years old), in a nearby park,  when one of them asked me, in that most trusting way only children are capable of: “Are you a witch?” As career options go I might consider it. Mind you. I’ll need to go crowd funding first to source that most indispensible of all accessories. Namely, a broom.

Being caught on the hob – or is it hop, I smiled: “No, I am not”. On a nano second’s reflection, and not being the kind to dash other people’s hope (within reason). “Do I look like one?” Apparently, I do. “Witch, Witch, Witch”, they chanted.

By the time I came back from town, having forgotten all about my elevated status, they caught up with me again. “Look, the witch is back”. It’s nice to be delighted in. Unless you are the devil.

U

Spooky

To add to intermittent gloom of the season (and I love autumn unless I slip on its shed leaves and bang my head) here is the bad news (for me): Soon it’ll be November.

I have reported on this before. But old news, like a good stew, are no worse when warmed up. Yes, November. Of all the months of the year November is my nemesis. Awaited with trepidation.

This year I am resolved to break the spell. How? I don’t know. I still have five days before the first of the month strikes. The build up already promising what I dread.

May I be pleasantly surprised, and surprise myself not so unpleasantly.

U

Send chocolate

Trigger Warning. Spoiler Alert.

Am down in the dumps. Crossroads and all that. Disenchanted.

Yesterday I bothered (on some other – close to me – people’s behalf). Today? Today I wish I hadn’t. Today I have just about had it. The Angel who got a brief glimpse of my despair last night besieged me to leave well alone, not let it get to me. Wise words, no doubt. How? It HAS gotten to me. Strange, in many ways, that I have never been able to hold hatred in my heart. But occasionally, just occasionally like virtually never, I am so close to it. The very thought of this being a real possibility shocks me.

Even my usual remedy coming to terms with all ills, namely going for a long brisk walk mulling it all over, didn’t help today.

Some of you, most of you I dare say, seem able to disconnect, to shunt, to close doors. Without so much as a backward glance. Why can’t I?

So frustrated, yours,

U

Chat chat chat

“She lets other people babble on, while giving away little about what she thinks.”

No this quote isn’t about me. I rarely let other people babble on, and I do, freely, give away what I think. When I do let someone babble on it’s for tactical purposes. It’s like watching a spider weave its net.

When I say “practical purposes” I don’t mean nefarious. Quite the opposite. Sometimes, particularly on the personal, it’s best to let someone just talk. Not only will you learn an awful lot about them (giving you a better grounding if they wish for your advice) but, most importantly, they will hear themselves speak. I realized this, and it was a revelation, when some years ago my doctor advised and subscribed grief counselling for me. I was in such despair to find a way out of my despair, for once I put all my scepticism to one side and gave it a shot.

To this day I can’t believe what happened during those fifty minutes sessions. Being engaged at all times, interested in everyone and everything, I tried to enter into dialogue with my “counsellour”. No doing. They will not be drawn. Though eventually he did relent and told me a little about his background before he went into counselling (teaching). But, on the whole, I did all the talking, pouring it all out – I HEARD myself aloud. I was, literally, listening to myself. If, in an hour, he interjected with a couple of questions that was a lot. Took two sessions of talking aloud – whilst being listened to – to clear the cobwebs, giving me some footing to handle my sorrow. An extraordinary experience. Also slightly eerie and vaguely unsettling since it was nothing like what normal human exchange is like.

U

 

Effort

Thank you for your truly refreshing, and refreshingly honest, answers on the subject I last raised. Yes, affection and trust. The very foundations friendship is built on. From there we fly.

Today? Today I am contemplating the labour of love. Both Ramana and Shackman have had their (un)fair, true and hard share of it. Myself unencumbered, I think along seemingly ridiculous endeavours. Don’t laugh or do, say, archiving all (and ditching some) photos, in a coherent format. Say, condensing a lifetime’s cooking into notes useful to the Angel.

I am no Beethoven so my legacy will be largely with those who’ll remember me whilst still alive themselves. Before I drift off into my own la la land of thought on the futility of it all, let me say that I think there is no better labour than that borne out of love, be it for your children, humanity as a whole, indeed – dare I say it – yourself. In which spirit I’ll now go back to the washer woman’s ironing board. Give me a crease … I’ll try and smooth it.

You know something? If I were my own editor (and she is merciless) I’d scrap the whole of the above as so much sentimental indulgence. Still, one might argue, why not indulge some spur of the moment whim?

Any labour(s) of love, as yet to be accomplished, on your wishlist?

U

Promise and Perils

To up the ante of my “Spot Check” try this one for size:

What constitutes friendship?

Is it in your nature to be a friend?

Is it in your nature to attract friends?

Do you think yourself a good friend? And if so, to whom? And why?

How much honesty by a friend can you bear? How much of YOUR honesty do YOU expect a friend to bear? Should there be a fountain of honesty? Or should we be able, with no ill effect on the friendship, know when to turn off the tap of our well meaning, and let the water sicker into the sand?

Are you your own friend? What would it take to sever all contact with you, the friend you are to yourself?

U

Spot check

I do not wish to startle you lest your comfort zone’s wall starts crumbling. Today’s burning question is:

Do you ever find yourself amusing? And, if so, will you freely admit to it?

U

 

Don’t send chocolate

As Lovely Lorna (LL) suggested the other day, I do need a break. Luck. Hope that saying about seven years of … followed by seven years of … is NOT correct. It’s so depressing. Mind you, I have always liked the “seven” times table. Particularly when we got to seven times seven (49).

I do not put any fault at Lady Luck’s door. Not least because I am convinced that if luck weren’t on my side I’d be long dead. Possibly, most likely, not even born. Which, of course, and I only learnt this recently (where have I been all my life?) that there is a particular school of thought which advocates that paradise is to never been born. Maybe. To me life is a bonus. Even when shite at times. At least you are alive.

Where were we? Luck. Yes, so to continue my saga of unfortunate mishaps, today I slipped. Don’t say Lady Luck wasn’t on my side. I could have broken something. I didn’t. I will, no doubt, have a bruise on my lovely right buttock, but am not concussed though did hit the tarmac with the back of my head. Neither, for once, did I break a wrist.

My sister, the youngest, once asked me, rather impatiently, why I kept breaking my arms. THERE MUST BE A REASON, she said. I have no idea what she was implying. Obviously THERE is a reason. Like, in this case, the lovely combo of autumn’s fine drizzle and leaves falling. And yes, I was wearing flat shoes. I slipped. Simple, ain’t it?

Anyway, to compound temporary shock, all my coins scattered all over the place. Thus I found myself ten p (in Dollars probably 15 cents – who knows with Pound Sterling plunging) short. So, limping along as best I could without showing the limp, I asked a couple of guys outside a pub for ten pence short of my  four remaining pounds. Sweethearts, I tell you, it’s hard to believe the relationship some people do have with money. Remember ten pence. Not ten pounds. Not a hundred. Not a thousand. Ten measly peeeeeeeeeeeee.

The moment someone asks you WHAT you need money FOR is the moment you know you won’t get it. He wouldn’t let go. Kept asking me what I needed 10 p for. He even suggested that, no doubt, his continued questioning could be interpreted as “intrusive”. Indeed. I told him to forget it.  May Karma bite his behind. When in need find a taxi driver. Mean they ain’t. Neither do they ask questions. Thus I was able to make the purchase I’d gone out for in the first place.

On my return, naturally, I found my key unable to open the door.

Safely ensconed in my abode once more, living to tell the tale, yours,

U

Munch’s Scream

Having been brought up on folklore and fairy tales to bursting point and lasting as fodder for my nightmares (and dreams) a life time I sometimes wonder about “sayings”.

Today’s is “walking in some else’s shoes”. Having a lot of imagination and empathy by the bucket load, I flatter myself that I do not need to walk in someone else’s shoes to understand. Ha. Never overestimate your abilities. You may have a clue, a bit like finding your way through fog. You will get lost in the woods.

In absence of any other diversion I have just tried to imagine what a rat, indeed any animal (or human), feels when forced into a corner. Main thing, I suppose, is to have your back against the wall. That way you face the horrors in pursuit of you full on; better than being stabbed in the back. Similar, I imagine, to drowning. You know it’s happening and, in absence of a lifeline, for a few minutes in your life, you’ll have certainty.

Ray of sunshine greetings,

U

Check, Mate

One of the joys of a language being your second is that you give meaning to words and phrases only you understand.

Let’s leave aside my coquettish, and for years, saying “prawn to something” instead of prone. You have to be a foreigner to enjoy that little play. British humour aside, they don’t get it.

Anyway, I grew up – yesterday – and now know how not to be stupid beyond my capabilities.

U