Post 53: Many More Memories.
Bad things, sometimes, happen to good people.
The wind and rain last week stirred the garden from its slumber and caused a few early blooms to droop. Everything got shaken up—except the weeds, which seem impervious to humans or the elements.
Oh, to be a weed.
I think about the beautiful roses in my garden: beautiful but fragile. Susceptible to every disease, craving attention and love. Then I look at the wiry grasses growing between the paving cracks and across the purple crushed slate beds. Indestructible. Uninvited, but thriving.
It’s Saturday, but I’ve got a Monday feeling. I should be full of beans, itching to get out to a country show or fête, enjoying simple pleasures with simple folk. Instead, it’s grey outside—and inside too.
Today is the last day of May. The year’s midpoint closing in fast. I used to love these long days as a kid—except when I was ordered to bed while it was still light outside. I remember the Fred Basset curtains flapping in the warm breeze, and the heat making the bedroom feel like an oven.
Back then, I didn’t give much thought to the sun and moon as major players in the blue planet’s theatre. I wasn’t academic. The planets were just coloured blobs in books. No interest to me. I liked trees and streams, birds and frogs, incinerators and sheds.
I can’t remember doing much homework, or ever liking school—primary or secondary. “Could do better” was the constant refrain in those flimsy paper reports I had to bring home to Mum, knowing they’d earn me a telling-off. I don’t know if Dad was bothered.
But I don’t think I cared much. Mum and Dad were too busy to teach us anything beyond the morals we still keep today. Big Sis, Little Bro, and I were more or less self-taught—aside from the brotherhoods and sisterhoods of the youth groups we joined. Those gave us structure, taught us how to be ourselves within a community.
We were lucky. We were safe. We made memories that are still positive forces today.
Camping was always fun, wherever we went. Team games were okay, but I preferred solo stuff: photography, snooker, darts. Not because I was a loner—I just didn’t like team sports. Especially football. No skills to speak of, and in the 70s, if you didn’t like footie, you could go “play with the girls” instead.
Mind you, girls scared me more than the bully boys.
Funny how many uncomfortable memories surface when writing, even though I’d still tell you I had a good time in school, on the whole. Strange how that doesn’t quite add up when I really think about it.
Is it different for you? Did you enjoy school, and what came after?
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This blog isn’t a memoir. It’s a daily dispatch to myself—a report on what’s in my head and what’s surrounding me.
Which, at this very moment, is Mr Vicious, the cat. He’s meowing loudly at my feet for something but I’ve already given him his dinner so what’s the problem.
Maybe it’s feline dementia. Or maybe he’s just greedy.
What he is definitely is a master of hair distribution. Not a room or ledge is left untouched by his relentless shedding. If I could wish for one improvement, it’d be a hairless cat—except I find the Sphinx and Bambino breeds too creepy for comfort. Not my cup of tea. But at least there’d be no hairs to speak of.
Still, I’m feeling a little better now. Writing helps. It always does.
Maybe tomorrow, My Darling and I can venture out for a bit of “us time” away from home. That’d be nice.
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I started the belly injections of Tinzaparin this morning. Since then, I’ve had a headache. My blood pressure is a healthy 129/81, so I’ll keep an eye on how I am tomorrow.
Otherwise, I’m well. No pain, no side effects—though, of course, I’m not having any chemo at the moment.
When people ask how I am, I sometimes mention the PSA level—but honestly, it’s so ridiculously high now, it’s hard to take it seriously. It doesn’t relate to anything normal. That said, I do worry about what it will be next Thursday, when they take bloods again.
Will it fall back to the two hundreds, or go stratospheric?
Both of my teams—local and far away—are aware, but I doubt I’ll get answers before the day unit visit in a week, where I’ll ask face to face.
Still, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?
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Wishing you all the best for whatever you’re dreaming of.
