simple pleasures and a heartless regime

Sometimes, far too frequently in fact, I forget to count my blessings.

Quite recently I was able to enjoy Christmas to a far greater extent than has been the case for several years past; I actually managed to pace myself reasonably well, with a minimum of twelve hours bed rest per twenty-four. Medications and grace combined to keep the worst excesses of pains, aches and sensory overload at bay; even my limited reserves of emotional stamina held out well for this time of grateful celebration.

In the past few days I’ve crashed a little; sudden bouts of fatiguing exhaustion during daytime hours are (almost invariably) followed by restlessly discomforting nights. At least I’m able to do a bit of reading, even though my concentration wavers considerably more than in days of yore! Most importantly, I’m able to enjoy the activity without it seeming a chore.

I always feel privileged to love and be loved by ma belle Helen, just to hold and be held by each other brings with it a tremendous sense of wholeness, going a long way towards alleviating that sense of isolation arising from a greatly restricted ability to socialise in the wider world since the onset of this debilitating illness.

Sat in a comfortable supporting armchair, I can watch all the avian activity in our garden; in recent days we’ve had plentiful visits from coal, blue, and long-tailed tits, alongside the sparrows and starlings. Their antics are always a delight, as are the regular sightings of red kite, gracefully riding the thermals overhead.

As a recipient of a state pension, alongside a couple of small company pensions, I am fortunate that I no longer have to be dragged through the arduous demeaning benefits medical assessments, that so many sufferers of chronic illnesses – mental or physical – are so unfairly forced to endure, adding further stress to their already vulnerable state of being.

I am truly blessed, having food in my belly, a roof over my head and, we are still able to afford to keep ourselves warm (despite the profiteering greed of the privatized utilities). These things, that should be a right, are increasingly becoming a privilege under a heartless ConDem regime.   

Aching Days and Restless Nights

Do you ever get the feeling that the soles of your shoes are sprung lead platforms; the bass notes, from each drudge-like clomping step, resonating through the apparently hollow tubes that connect each ankle to the knee bone. Forgot to add the feeling that the tube walls themselves are composed of compressed felt, specially treated to retain an aching bruised sensation. Each several yards travelled feels like a half marathon. To be quite honest though, those are not my best days, and as for the worst days even those several yards would be well nigh impossible!

At other times there are the joyous shattered sleep deprived nights, frequently starting with a disconcerting and discomforting acute ache in the upper arm, armpit and elbow, or fitful muscular spasms in the lower limbs, a generalized sense of disorientation swiftly takes over. A complete nauseating distraction from the sleep intention seems itself incapable of distraction; sore throat, nausea, tenderness of lymph nodes, and a refreshing of one’s IBS symptoms are just about par for these wee small hours disturbances.

It always seems quite ridiculous that the more one requires refreshing sleep, the more difficult it is to attain. Neither striving nor yielding seems to result in the anticipated balm!

Ailments aside, I feel truly blessed in the warmth of my relationship with Helen, my beloved OH, and constantly wallow in (and yearn for) her presence. Although I can no longer cope with cinema, theatre, jazz club or concert going, I still have, and revel in, the opportunity via sundry technologies to enjoy music, film and concerts. This enjoyment is always enhanced when the experience is shared with ma belle!

At times our garden is so full of avian activity that it is a privilege quite simply to be sat in my armchair observing all their comings and goings. Come to think of it, I am truly blessed and surprisingly content much of the time!

tidings of discomfort and joy

The gaps between postings seem to be increasing; don’t know why I tell you that, presumably you’d already noticed. Sundry muscular aches and pains almost got the better of me during recent weeks, not so much the intensity of pain (barely halfway up the scale) but rather a disconcerting all pervasive sense of dis-ease. At present it feels as if a generalized discomfort proves more disabling than spasmodic acutely intense pain.

The question constantly arises whether codeine, tramadol or any general painkiller can tackle these dull persistently nagging aches. On occasion simply putting on wrist, elbow and shoulder supports seems to alleviate all but a background purring nausea, at others only the combination of pills and  strappings seem to do the trick.

It’s strange that some nights, following on from a more comfortable day, the discomfort only begins its nagging and gnawing routine when I attempt to settle down to sleep; brief interludes of dream laden sleep interrupt my sadly familiar restlessness. At times I could swear that the amitriptyline is working as a stimulant rather than benefitting me with its supposed gently sedative properties.

For the past several nights I’ve pre-emptively dosed myself with tramadol before retiring au lit but, I’ll never know whether it’s the medications efficacy that grants me a more comfortable (albeit still unrefreshing) night’s rest, or have these nights just happened to be ones that were destined to be more comfortable anyway.

At its worst the discomfort is such that I become nauseatingly ill at ease inside my own skin ….

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I’m now beginning to see a reason for not posting; all the preceding spilt out as if I’m having a miserable life whereas in fact I continue to feel rather blessed.

My love for ma belle grows ever deeper and, what’s more, that love is reciprocated. The assurance that one is loved somehow overwhelms life’s more negative aspects, simultaneously building one’s reserves of emotional stamina in readiness for the ongoing struggle for justice and compassion for all.

Having always been of a somewhat gregarious disposition I still, not infrequently, find myself mourning the loss of the ability to socialize (other than on the most modestly minimal scale) but still feel fortunate that I can enjoy all kinds of music and drama via television, radio, and sundry recorded formats. It’s strange the way that sudden unexpected sounds can serve to shatter my nerves, almost crushing the breath out of me, whilst dramatic transitions in a musical score never (or perhaps very rarely) seem to play such a disruptive role.

The garden too is a source of constant delight and refreshment, even when it’s getting a bit out of hand, and the avian activity (viewed from the comfort of a supportive high-backed armchair) is a constant source of pleasure.

Come to think of it, perhaps the reason I’m not posting so regularly is that I’m far too busy appreciating life!

of spoonie normality

Each time I’ve set out to write a blog post, of late, an insufficiency of either/and/or physical, intellectual or emotional stamina has managed to suppress the desire. That  statement gets me to thinking, once again, of normality; when ones reserves of stamina, or effects of sundry aches and pains, are totally unpredictable (not only one day but even one hour to the next) what kind of criteria should one apply in order to define a normal day?

Contrary to the hopes and wishes implied at the close of my “much ado about little” posting (24 March), a considerable degree of payback was evident in the succeeding days. The most positive thing I can say about the excruciatingly shattered low days is that they enable me to appreciate, albeit retrospectively in some cases, the goodly number of better ones that I am blessed with!

Not So Bad After All

Those halcyon days, when I was once again able to luxuriate in the habit of novel devouring, have swiftly fled. Faltering attempts to resume the third novel, that I'd begun to read, came to nought, in fact I seem to have tumbled back to square one. The suffiency of emotional stamina has once again bade me farewell; I'd like to think that it was quite simply a case of this latest book not being of sufficient character to proffer the necessary stimulation but, it's more likely related to my current state of discomforted exhaustion. Certainly my sleep patterns have become disruptively erratic and, the sleep that I do manage to grab seems to be of a curiously unrefreshing nature. An unsettling tenderness of areas under the chin and in my armpits ensures a constant need to shuffle my position and, that's not at all conducive to the reading habit.



I still seem to be recovering from the aftermath of events of 6 February. Although it felt great to have coped with a considerably extended (compared to my recent years norm) period of socializing, it definitely seems that there's a re-active price to be paid. A current inability to apply myself to the sustained pursuit of any task, major or minor, is to say the least frustrating. I feel rather like one of those people who persistently parade around the workplace armed only with a clipboard, in the pretence that they're being productive. Going through the motions, without any application, that just about sums it up.


To dispel any suggestion of self-pity, that the preceding paragraphs may have suggested, I have to say that I am blessed with the ability, periods of intense frustration notwithstanding, to wallow in the simple pleasure of "being". To observe the antics of the birds in the garden, to sit and hold hands with my beloved, to enjoy the imbibing of a glass or two of wine, and simply to be a minute part of an awesome universe; those are rewards in and of themselves.

a joyous experience

Today is another wonderful unique day. The question is, do I feel better because of my attitude or, is my attitude different because I'm feeling better? I suspect that without the latter it would be virtually impossible to activate the former; mind over matter can only go a small way. For more than 90% of the time my outlook is positive, it's only reality that gets in the way and causes me to stumble.

This morning I sat in the shower and positively wallowed in the experience. A short while later I decided to venture down to 'Open Church', for coffee and a chat and, guess what; as I walked down the road one leg moved in front of the other in a seemingly effortless manner. It's an amazing thing this walking business, enabling one to get from point A to point B whilst, simultaneously, breathing in the air!

Breathing, that's another little miracle, inhale a complex of elements and exhale those not required; it seems like you get rid of all the crap with the minimum of conscious input. The whole process of walking and breathing feels like something worthy of celebration rather than being taken for granted. Having experienced some days when the necessary effort of taking a deep breath becomes a rather irksome task and, the movement of lower limbs causes considerable discomfort, makes it much easier to appreciate how wonderful a state of (relatively) healthy normality really is.

Walking down the road, reciprocating smiles with unknown passers-by, can be such a joyous experience.

Attaining Full Credentials

Last night, for the first time in many weeks, I experienced that sudden exhaustion whereby my aimlessly wilful lower limbs directed me, albeit falteringly, to the house’s upper floor in search of a bed. Object achieved, there came the inevitable collapse onto the nocturnal furniture. Just as night follows day, my body required the assistance of my beloved to carry out the task of its disrobing.

Some thirteen hours later I emerged from the soundest sleep experienced for months, or possibly even years. You might assume that, after this rest, I would be able to face the new day feeling totally refreshed; of course you’d be wrong. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the sense of your body being lined, internally, by a coarse felt sheet which has been (and still is being) subjected to a thumping hollow bruising affect! It’s my duty to inform you that it’s most unpleasant and, you have my sympathy if it falls within the range of your experience!

Anyway, unpleasantries out of the way, I can ignore other familiar ailments and move on to recent more positive experiences / activities. Having replaced a right angled absence on our front fence with a partial small pallet presence, I was able to utilize the base of this ‘new’ fence section as a mini-planter wherein I’ve placed a couple of small ivy plants. Further horticultural endeavours have been centred on the garden at the rear of the house, paying particular attention to the wildlife friendly arena. It’s most rewarding to view the results of previous years’ efforts which are gradually coming to fruition!

Monday of this week saw the celebration of my 65^th birthday, a special milestone as I am now a fully fledged pensioner! At lunchtime ma belle Helen and myself had a light lunch at a newly established local crêperie, Helen partaking of a goats cheese variety whilst I settled for the smoked salmon. As it’s a new venture, the accompanying drinks were free of charge, something most welcome in these financially straitened times!

From 7.00pm onwards, friends of ours called round chez nous, as and when convenient to themselves to partake of a birthday drink and toast the venerable birthday boy. As I’m not much for parties, and especially those of a more formal variety, this arrangement proved ideal. Having been incapable of much socializing, in recent years, it proved most enjoyable to play the (occasionally) sociable host. Although I have lost contact with several of my friends (those who failed to understand my health problems) since becoming an ME sufferer, it was great to know that I’m not totally forgotten! It’s my pleasure to report that a good time was had by all. Snacks and nibbles remaining from this event have made an interesting addition to our more routine diet, and of course we’ve had to make ourselves quaff the remaining wine from sundry open bottles.

The week has quite simply flown by as my beloved had taken the week off from work; time spent with ma belle amoureuse is always a pleasure, it’s remarkable to have a life so blessed!

Seasons In The Sun

Sometimes, the weather makes one’s “pacing” easier; at others it proves the worst adversary. Recent days have seen a clear demonstration of this; a spell of dry sunshiny weather found me out in the garden, eager to tackle a number of overdue tasks and, even to feel inspired to make further modifications. When you can manage a little task it just feels so good, the morale is boosted and, one feels quite virtuous at having attained something that, in one’s lower de-staminated times, certainly seemed a task too far.

Experience has taught me the importance of retaining some energy, rather than go flat out to tackle the job in hand but, the temptation’s always there to do a little bit more. Surely one can manage that extra little exertion? Nine times out of ten I could; problem is, that extra little exertion is the proverbial straw that flattens the hump.

Five minutes more effort can mean several days painfully laid low, aching and feeling tortuously bruised in places one can’t imagine anyone having a name for; in fact, one has temporarily lost the ability to name even the familiar places. At these times, one wishes the world would end and, stamina permitting, one screams out the words that many hangover sufferer may utter the morning after, “Never again!”

Of course, at the weekend my beloved is around to keep an eye on me; she certainly doesn’t want to deal with the aftermath and, at times seems more aware of my limitations than I, in my better days, am capable of acknowledging.

Come Monday, the rains had arrived, drastically curtailing any desire to do a little more pottering about in the garden – guilt free, I’m able to take things easier! Wednesday afternoon, the sun breaks through in glorious splendour and the impulse to go forth and till the fields grows strong.

I settle for something a little strenuous and, transplant a few tomato seedlings, from the windowsill propagator into pots ready for placement in the greenhouse. Although not excessively hot, a little time in the sunshine coupled with a moderate exertion proves overpowering. The glow of satisfaction, at another little task completed, is counterbalanced by a tediously frustrating shattered-ness. In this instance the weather proved both friend and foe.

I can only give thanks for all the things I can manage and, a new preparedness to listen to my body.

AVIAN CONNECTIONS

Although the weather has been somewhat changeable, I’ve been able to spend a bit of time out in the garden. Whilst in the garden I’ve acquired a new and unexpected friend, who I’ve christened “Blackie”; I know it maybe shows a lack of imagination but the friend in question is a male blackbird who seems to spend an awful lot of time alone.

Whenever I venture out, he’s usually sat on the fence or the greenhouse roof; when he’s hungry he places himself in the middle of the ground feeder whilst nodding in my direction. So I pop back in the house to get a handful of sprinkles and, he stays in situ whilst I scatter them on the feeder tray.

Today when I ambled up to the more wildlife friendly area of the garden, he followed me hopping on to various shrubs and the fence. I always try to proffer a friendly greeting, perhaps it’s the tone of voice rather than the words used that matters, and we exchange a few sucked sibilant “tt,tt,tts” in full recognition of each others presence.

Each time I venture out and he presents himself (like an over zealous friend) in very close proximity, I’m almost overwhelmed by an amazing sense of privilege. Strangely, or perhaps not so strange, he’s a bit more wary of my beloved but she still delights in my enjoyment of the relationship.

Transitional Demands

What a pleasant surprise; I’ve just been counting the cost and it isn’t half as costly as I’d anticipated; admittedly, sometimes the price is paid later. As a parallel to climbing the property ladder, if one takes too many risks with their “pacing” they have to be prepared for landing up in negative equity. I’ve recently been trying to extend the boundaries of my pacing regime, how else am I going to know what I can manage but, at the same time, I’m listening to the signals my body transmits back to me.

We’ve recently decided on a course of revamping our bedroom, which requires a little shunting around, and spasmodic removal of, the extant furnishings and accumulated detritus. Yesterday was the time to assemble a couple of wardrobes, a task which at first seemed rather daunting, though it proved rewarding as one managed to satisfactorily assemble the said units (despite the manufacturers best endeavours to ensure the misalignment of certain component parts). It proved a rather perspirational endeavour, during which I several times struggled to ignore both pain and stamina thresholds before finally collapsing at the eleventh hour; not a moment too soon. Our friend John, who lives just down the road and had earlier proffered assistance, arrived on his white charger to finish off the task in hand.

An early night being required, by body and spirit, there followed a somewhat restless sedimentation of hours, exhaustion seemingly serving as a barrier to sleep. After 13 ½ hours of bed rest(lessness), aching joints, bones and muscles were hardly in any worse shape than has been the norm over recent months / years, and the brain seemed to be functioning as well as can be expected. A slow emergence into the daytime world was par for the course; sleep eventually caught up with me, early in the afternoon, as I listened (!) to Radio 4 with hands crampingly poised on my laptop keyboard.

For little signs of progress I give thanks but, I am intentionally avoiding any further exertion today, a fair reward for yesterday’s endeavour.

Mal's Joy

Today's posting, Commonplace Joy, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Returning Home from Being There

 

An endless numbness, a dull sullen hanging sense of nausea and, barely the energy to read a single word, listen to a note of music; if only I had the stamina to put a thought together it would probably turn into a single-syllabled question. The querulous word would, I suspect, be more on the lines of “What” rather than “Why”.

I’ve long since given up on the existential / metaphysical why; more an exercise in futility rather than to proffer any result. “What” keeps the world alive, “why” seems more like an evasion.

Well, that’s yesterday dealt with; today I have returned to me. The preceding days, and nights, had been dominated by intensely excruciating pain, ranging from the numbing tourniquet, to the slightly blunted arrow; the bone and muscle crumbling ache in combat with those swiftly-fleeting nerve-tingling darts that seem to take one’s breath away; a kind of Topsy-Turvy Terpsichore:

Dance rules over all – it prevails against reason, common-sense and substantial portions of ritual belief. Trouble is that, we are never in control; I am currently in thrall to a kind of voodoo dance –nature’s response to a crushing debilitating pain scenario.

When all else fails, randomly fling limbs in whatsoever direction they feel like; if it causes further discomfort then that adds a whole new terpsichorean overlay, disclosing hitherto undreamt of fraught sequences of space displacement.

On Monday my pain-killing medication was changed, to a 3 day slow release opiate patch. Having applied the patch, late afternoon, my familiar discomforted restless night was in attendance, so nothing different then but the following morn was quite a different proposition. A total inability to concentrate, a generalized dull ache underlining the spasmodically erupting specific sharp pains; all was eventually blanketed under a heavily nausea spiced  airless cloud of unbeing, crushing a body wracked in turn between hot and cold shivering sweats.

Needless to say, all the remaining patches have been returned to the pharmacy and, my routine has been switched back to Tramadol, this time of a non-modified release type, to enable me to remain in control, modifying the dosage as necessary. Meanwhile, I’ve once again been referred to the hospital for further investigative work.

The 18 hours respite, including some ‘real’ bed rest, between removing the patch and taking a further pain-killer, has served to enhance my appreciation of the home environment. For the first-time this season, I was aware of the seasonally decorated dining table, and the various Christmas ornaments and tinsel sundrily scattered around our abode. This awareness of one’s habitation, the taste of food, the sound of music and always one’s loving companion is a gift to be truly celebrated. The return from a pain-riddled drug addled stupor makes me feel like the fabled Prodigal Son; although at heart I am always aware of the love that surrounds me, it’s good to receive a whole-hearted reminder, for one’s abode to find it’s rightful status as Home.

 

A Christmas Message

I just sit and look across the room, my beloved lost in thought, a slightly perplexed smile on her face as she ponders the words she’s typing. I smile to myself, a token of admiration coupled with adoration. Sometimes, I lose track of time as I simply contemplate ma belle’s visage; I enter a wonderful world of devotion and love. It seems strange that no matter how much in love I am, it continues to grow.

We’ve gradually completed the Christmas decorations and enter into the magic of the season. Most importantly, for all the gewgaws with which we surround ourselves, we remember that our real celebration is of a helpless child born to a teenage mum in an occupied state in the Middle East. Research suggests that this child Jesus would most probably have been born around April but, I rather like the way Christianity has assimilated this pagan feast time to celebrate the birth of the Christ child. Those who choose to follow the way of the Christ child should not seek to separate themselves from the world but always be there alongside those they can assist in a far from perfect world. Christians are to be “in the world but not of the world”; it’s never enough to accept the world as it is but, rather, we have a duty to transform it.

Just as our Christmas lights and decorations transform the darkest time of the year; Jesus message was to turn the accepted values of the ruling elite on their head. Sadly, just like we put away the lights before twelfth night so, through the centuries, have some of the ruling elites served to restore the injustices which Jesus challenged, in the name of Christendom!

May the message of Peace On Earth and Goodwill To All Men be taken seriously in this twenty first century of the common era.

Just as my contemplation of my beloved gives me such a warm glow, so does the true meaning of Christmas.

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This post first appeared on 22 December 2006

Apologia Paucitas

I guess it’s a combination of omnipresent distractions and feeling rather drained that has led to the paucity of blog postings of late. Sometimes, it seems as if the PC suffers almost as much from “brain fog” as do I. When the computer has its silly little glitches, I get so hung up on resolving them that fiddling about with programmes etc. takes the place of purposeful use of the machine. I love those moments when, after hours of frustration, one can simply rest back on one’s laurels having thwarted its best laid obstacles; oh the glow of self-satisfaction!

Mind you, there are always more little tasks to perform, around the house and in the garden, than stamina reserves permit the serious contemplation of. Or to put it another way, the contemplation is as great an endeavour as I can manage.

Recent weeks have seen an increase in my already sizeable bed-rest requirement; although I’m usually managing to remove myself from the duvet realm whilst it’s still morning, my hour of retirement has advanced somewhat. It’s strange how exhaustion suddenly overwhelm one; by the time I get up the stairs, I no longer have the stamina or patience to brush my teeth. The effort of getting undressed, without confusing myself, is challenging enough. The more exhausted I become, the more fitful the sleep pattern but, this doesn’t preclude an abundance of vivid naturalistic dreams at some point when a more general somnolence yields to the arms of Morpheus.

No matter how prolonged the bouts of sleep, it almost invariably proves unrefreshing; mid-morning usually finds a distinctly under par Malcolm, headachy, catarrhal, painful sinuses, ears, and tender glands. Apart from that, the sundry other muscular and joint pains proffer only a minor degree of discomfort at present, so maybe some things are picking up.

Sorry, I don’t want this to sound like I’m complaining; I really do enjoy my more alert moments and, thank God for the gift of family, friends, food in the belly and the privilege of observing all the piscine and avian activity in the garden. Just having the time to sit and stare is a rich gift in and of itself.

I trust that somewhere, in that jumble of words, you will discover the reason / excuse for the paucity of postings.

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This post also appears on 'Mals Murmurings'

Truly Alive

Retire to the duvet realm shortly after 10.00pm, re-emerge shortly after 9.00am, a remarkably early hour for yours truly. Dressing gown bedecked, switch on the PC for a little idle surfing, feeling rather washed out and jaded. Somehow the time just scurries by, surprising in an era of idleness. Contemplate taking a shower but, uncertain as to whether I can cope with the effort, return to the desktop and continue to get nowhere slowly. By this time a serious debate with oneself occurs, the topic is the pros and cons of showering.

By 11.30am, I succumb to the lure of the shower. Sheer luxury as I sit in the shower; I rub my face almost gleefully, watch the water flow over my weary limbs, the warmth seems to alleviate the pesky muscular aches and pains with which I share my daily journeying. This is bliss, it almost feels like something I should feel guilty about; it takes quite some time before I even contemplate the washing process, it’s almost as if in these moments time has stood still and I’ve entered some kind of sublime ecstatic state. I start to count my breaths, a kind of reassurance that it’s not quite simply a dream; all is calmness!

There once was a time, which I find hard to believe, when showering was a straightforward mundane routine, neither pain or pleasure. Next, there was a period when I could only take a shower when my beloved was there to support me, an omnipresent giddiness / light-headedness made the shower a most insecure place for me. Things became somewhat easier once my beloved obtained a shower seat; once that was in situ, the task became far less troublesome, although for long enough it still proved a chore. I still found that by the time I emerged from the soaking, and towelled myself dry, a half-hours rest (minimum) was required before I could consider getting dressed.

Anyway, that’s the past and this is now. I’m still basking in the afterglow of that serious pampering, provided by the shower unit. The muscular and joint pains are returning but, I am still able to revel in observing the sun blessed blue skies. Today I am truly alive.

Bring Me Sunshine

The sun shines, and all seems much better with the world; a bright day has such an amazing effect on one’s sense of well (or even not-so-well) being, it’s only a pity that it has little effect on the multitude of socio-political ills that afflict the majority of humankind.

Just looking out onto the garden gains new vibrancy; each year I’m amazed and encouraged as the first shoots thrust their way into daylight, preparing for spring. (see my poem First Rite on this theme)

Shuffle my way up to the garden pond, look in disgust at the floating debris, think about netting it off but, I’m all too aware that once I make that effort I’ll be too tempted to start on a more widespread cleaning. The piscine inhabitants wouldn’t be too happy about that, this early in the year, so it’s just as well my energy reserves are not exactly fighting for release.

For the moment, I make do with topping up the bird-feeders, pace about a little to give my leg muscles a little stretch, before returning to the house for a nice cuppa (or three) of Earl Grey.

It’s remarkable how much easier it is, on a bright day, to count ones blessings. At a time when I’d lost contact with many of my friends, as my ability to socialize declined, I was able to make contact with others in cyber space, and most importantly able to offer help and encouragement to some of these people.

As my love for my wife grows daily, and that’s starting from a remarkably high plateau, I am so fortunate to have that love reciprocated. Being able to pop down to Open Church, for a cup of Fairtrade coffee and a natter, still seems like a bit of a luxury and, I can only be grateful that I can comfortably manage the walk down there and not be overwhelmed by any background noise. It’s simple things like that, which I would have taken for granted a few years ago, that I have now learnt to appreciate; even the fact that I have a roof over my head, food in the larder and, water on tap provides cause for rejoicing.

Even on a dull, wet day, I am aware of the many blessings (though sometimes it takes a bit of coaxing to bring them to the fore) but, as the sun continues to shine my gratitude is somehow amplified.

Murmuring Mal Gets Turned On

Today's blog posting, Whatever Turns You On, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'!

Lazy Bones and other body parts!

It can be really great when the weather perfectly reflects your mood, at least when the sun shines at the same time as a light breeze refreshes you. Unfortunately, recent days have seen a plenitude of rain and grey skies and, I find myself even more washed out than any prospective garden party.

Perhaps my physio will be able to work some wonders, with the acupuncture needles, when she visits me on Tuesday; I certainly feel in need of a wonder-worker at the moment, what with a return to lower concentration levels, a persistent prodding headache behind my right ear and, the as yet unfulfilled promise of a streaming cold hanging over me for the past few days, it feels like a major achievement to get out to the pond to feed the fish.

Still I struggle manfully on, with the aquarium inhabitants providing a constant source of entertainment when I’m not watching the sparrows, blue tits, starlings and blackbirds around the various feeders. A few collared doves manage to acrobat themselves onto the bird table but, the frequent thwarted attempts to follow suit by the unwieldy wood pigeons provide a rather pathetic source of mirth as they go slip sliding away.

Come to think of it, I’ve no cause to moan – I really do enjoy this laidback lifestyle as long as I can lay the ghostly conscience mutterings of the protestant work ethic to rest. Admittedly, it would be even better if it was a totally free choice, rather than force of circumstance, that led me to adopt this lifestyle.

For food and drink, a roof over my head, friends and family, and the love of my very special lady Helen, I give thanks!

The Day of Resurrection

Jesus died as a victim of Imperial Occupation and Piety - the resurrection symbolizes overcoming oppression and injustice

Showers Of Blessing

Oh, the joy, the ecstasy! Who would have thought a piece of moulded plastic, with extendable parts, could be the source of so much pleasure. When my wife purchased it, she thought only of its utilitarian value; in no way could she have imagined the highs produced by this simple device. And the beauty of it is, no batteries required but, such pleasurable moistening!

Needless to say, the device could only be obtained from a shop specializing in such appliances. Where would we be without these specialist outlets?

For more months than I care to remember, a visit to the shower room was fraught with danger. If my beloved wasn’t around, there was no chance of me risking the experience; a sense of aching dis-equilibrium, of imminent collapse, made me fearful of stepping into the shower unattended. For far too long, my stubbornness resisted the beloved’s suggestion that some bath or shower aids would help. Personal hygiene was something reluctantly attended to. No matter how long the preceding period of bed-rest, by the time I’d showered and towelled I was so shattered that a further hours rest was called for before I could even consider the exertion required to clothe myself. Rather than being a refreshing experience, the effort involved ensured it was an extremely enervating one.

There are still many occasions when I seem to lack the necessary stamina to get into the shower-bath and, I’m ashamed to admit that showering is not a daily occurrence. Once in the shower though, the stable plastic seat has made a world of difference and, I revel in the warm soft needles of H2O as they caress and soothe my aching muscles.

These days, I can accomplish so much more than seemed possible even a few months ago and, for that I give thanks. I rejoice in the showers of blessing which make life so rich and wonderful. In everything give thanks.