Wednesday, 30 December 2009

From the eastern sky it came....

It's always my intention to say something profound, something interesting, or humorous... but sadly I don't have profound, interesting, or humorous thoughts.... but still, why let such minor deficiencies prevent productivity ? The show, as they say, must go on!

This year has, on reflection, been cack/cac/kack/shite/shitty (delete to suit). Not that I'm going to dwell on the setbacks, the losses, or other negative aspects... instead, I shall endeavour to look for the positive.

[ thinks... ]

[ thinks some more... ]

Things reached such a pitch, I was forced to look inside myself. I gained insight. The future looks rosier.

Happy New Year!

PS. It snowed last night. Not the crisp, powdery sort, that when trodden on, compacts in a most delicious and satisfying way... no.... this is less substantial, bordering on the watery - slush disguised as snow! I suspect it's a cheap foreign import (probably from Shanghai) unlike the "made in Britain" variety I knew as a child. Sigh.

Wednesday, 16 December 2009

Wallowing in the dirt

I'm turned 60 years of age. I'm surprised. It kinda rushed in on me. Last thing I remember was sitting in the dirt, digging with a stick; mom was in the kitchen, busy doing mom-like things, but keeping a watchful eye. It was a glorious sunny day too, with not a breath of air, as Cabbage White butterflies flitted fervently, and bees waggle-danced and extracted pollen from the wild flowers (dad was never a gardener). Funny isn't it, how our childhood days are remembered like this... golden... idyllic...

Then... of a sudden, in the blink of an eye, here I am... a sixty year old. What happened? Where did the intervening years go?

Maturity. There's a word for you. I try not laugh as I apply it to myself. I'm not even sure I know what it means, though I do know there's a general social expectation: it's a pity my hair isn't grey, or better still, snow white? And to keep in character, maybe a little bad posture wouldn't go amiss, just a slight stoop? That would be a good start; t'would complement well the image of pottering in the garden, or expertly doing those little jobs around the house that granddads do so well. And we all know... this is done to kill time. If not for this pottering and hammer wielding, I'd be in suspended animation, coming alive only when the grandkids visit.
Maturity is a time where satisfaction comes from selflessness only...

I must be doing something wrong.