The Day of Resurrection

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

A Sequel

A sequel to yesterday's posting, HOMECOMING, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Malcolm's Travellers Tale

Once again, I've managed a weekend away and apart from a generalized fatigue and the usual aches I'm here to tell the tale!

24th March 2007

As we journey westwards, the day brightens and, once again I’m enraptured by the beauty on our doorstep as we traverse the dales and moorland. As we enter Lancashire, the roadside welcome sign is subtitled “Where Everyone Is Welcome”; I find myself wondering whether our return journey will witness a sign reading “Where No One Cares” as we re-enter God’s own county. The journey goes smoothly and, neither myself nor ma belle chauffeuse feel too exhausted by the effort.

Having signed in at the Travel Inn, my first impulse is to go and have a lie-down on the bed. After a brief rest, we look out of the window and see our friends Peter & Pamela have arrived at the nearby bar so, duty calls us to venture across and share a few glasses of vino before deciding on our evening meal. The conversation flows quite fluidly, after all, we’ve got a couple of years to catch up on since our previous meeting. That’s the beautiful thing about friendship, it’s almost as if the conversation continues from just the day before; an understanding of each others humour and situation makes things so much easier. Pamela and I are the experienced old crocks, Pamela having been a wheelchair user for many years now, although the image in my mind of her racing up fellsides, Peter and I breathlessly following, still seems fresh.

I’ve known the two P’s since university days and, Peter was best man when I married Helen seven brief years ago. Much as travelling disagrees with me, meeting up with old friends makes it most worthwhile. By the time we’ve had our meal, Pamela shows obvious signs of flagging so, we bid our adieus and, it’s not that much later when fatigue takes over for Helen and myself so, an early night is called for.


25th March 2007

To my surprise, we managed to make it down for breakfast in good time but, those old weary blues caught up with me by the time we’d ventured back to our room. A further lie down was called for and, this accounted for the rest of the morning (and early afternoon). By 2.00PM we were ready to head off to Peter & Pamela’s abode and, it wasn’t long before we ventured across to their wine cellar to select a bottle of bubbly. Conversation found its own direction and, we chatted about their Australian holiday as we looked at a few of the copious quantity of photos taken on that occasion as well as venturing down memory lane. For our meal we enjoyed one of Peter’s celebrated kipper and egg kedgerees accompanied by one of Tony Laithwaite’s Chilean Sauvignons. I declined the dessert, which the other three managed to demolish without my participation.

We arrived back at the hotel by 9.00PM, switched on the telly to watch what turned out to be a Jane Austen travesty, switched off the telly after about twenty minutes of this abhorrence and, decided it was time for an early night.


26th March 2007

Once more, this time slightly more of a struggle, made it down in time for breakfast then ventured back to the room where the need for rest was instantly apparent. I duly settled on the bed for forty winks but, when the staff came round to clean the room around 11.00AM I was sound asleep. Emerged from my slumbers at 11.30AM and we went out to sit and have a coffee on the benches outside of the bar whilst the necessary tasks were fulfilled by room service. Back to the room for a bit more rest and, I was just about alert by our friends arrived to direct us to their local, ‘The Hest Bank’. This proved a great opportunity to meet their friends, from Geriatrics Corner, much feted by both Peter and Pamela in their respective blogs. The most difficult decision for me to make, on this occasion, was that between ‘Black Sheep’, ‘Timothy Taylor’s Landlord’ or ‘Caledonian’. A couple of pints of ‘Black Sheep’ sufficed for me before we perused the menu. After an enjoyable meal, it was once more time to bid our farewells, an early night once more being a necessary part of our agenda.

more on 'mal's murmurings'

Yesterday's posting, FROM UNPREDICTABILITY TO AFFIRMATION, can be found on MAL's MURMURINGS.

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.

Two watercolours on Garbled Noise

TWO WATERCOLOURS, by yours truly, have been posted on GARBLED NOISE

Freshly Minted

'SPLASH INTO SPRING', a brand new poem by yours truly, can be found on the new multi-contributor blog GARBLED NOISE!

A brief posting can be found on "Words from an Hirsute Antiquity".

Busy Doing Nothing

Busy doing nothing – at least that’s how I’ve felt the past few days. After a season of reasonably good days, it comes as something of a shock to return to a state of washed-out-ness, that just a few short months ago was my daily norm. Even those muscles I hadn’t realized existed seem to ache today, the ache varying in intensity from a weary numbness to a tightly wrapped band of spikes surrounding each sinew.

Busy doing nothing; at least the time has flown by, despite my routine of minimal activity. I lose count of the hours spent observing the piscine activity in our new aquarium. The three fantail goldfish, and five white cloud minnows, seem to utilize every inch of their 180 litre home. Callie, the calico fantail (please note the total lack of imagination in the naming), seems like a real adventurer now, compared to the nervously timid creature we saw both before and after her treatment for a swimbladder infection in her old residence. Of course she’s no longer confronted by the bullying antics of Jimmy, a common or garden variety of goldfish, currently swimming solo in one of the old tanks prior to his introduction to the inmates of the garden pond come April.

Busy doing nothing; I did, in the course of the week manage a couple of visits down to ‘Open Church’ (for Fairtrade coffee and a chat) and, took my beloved out for a meal at The Park on Thursday. Each of these outings would have been unimaginable just one year ago, so I’ve no cause for complaint. All in all, I feel like a most privileged person; to be loved by, and be in love with, ma belle amoureuse, to have food in my belly, a roof over my head, and a warm fire to sit by.

Take nothing and no-one for granted, just take each day as it comes and, in everything give thanks.

I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made!

Culture Clash?

A Sequel

The sequel to 'A Weekend Venture', Sunshine, Fish and shocks that flesh is heir to
can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

A Weekend Venture

Friday 23 February 2007

A slow start to the day, not much change there but, today’s going to be rather different from over three years of recent experience. A gentle sense of trepidation haunts the morning hours; the gardener arrives to carry out a few tasks and, I decide it’s time for a leisurely shower before I get dressed and set up for what the day has in store. Muscle, joint and glandular twinges were already in evidence as soon as the transformation from somnolence to wakefulness had occurred, so a peremptory dose of codeine phosphate and paracetamol was called for.

Another big adventure for yours truly is on the menu, as Helen packs the suitcases in the car, in preparation for our weekend excursion to Liverpool. On Sunday, Helen’s step-mum will be celebrating her entry into the octogenarian stakes; come to think of it, in a mere 17 years and 4 months I too could be entitled to enter those same stakes.

As we venture out across, and beyond, the Yorkshire Dales, the sun smiles on us and them; we are both truly captivated by Yorkshires wonderful rolling and rounded hills populated by sheep, in both the wilder moorlands and more verdant territory. For all that I appreciate the scenery, the journey seems in some sense to be a kind of endurance test. Questions roll through my mind, about how I’m going to cope, both with the journey and being away from home for a few days. More importantly, are my spastic colon and temperamental bladder going to behave themselves?

We choose to travel a more roundabout route as, neither ma belle chauffeuse nor myself are over enamoured of the main (M62) motorway route. More than half of our journey is travelled along ‘A’ roads before we venture into Motorway territory, with rapid switches between M6, M58, M57 and the tail end of the M62 into Liverpool. Only a couple of stops are made en-route, to stretch ones limbs, unpack and devour the sandwiches, quick nicotine fix pour moi. And, of course, my bladder screams out for relief, partly from a slight sense of panic but largely owing to a rather disordered processing and retention facility.

In total, the outward journey takes about 3 ½ hours by the time we reach Kathleen’s (Helens’ step-mum) to say Hi and partake of a nice cuppa and a cookie. After this brief respite, we head for the Innkeepers Lodge (Liverpool South) where we’ll be spending the next three nights. With my lack of travelling experience, over recent years, it’s a remarkable sense of achievement that overwhelms me on arrival. Take stock: I’ve arrived at my destination, almost panic free and with scarcely more than my usual quota of sundry aches and pains; even the disorientation is less than I’d anticipated.

Once we’ve moved our baggage into the room, and rested a wee while, we venture across to the Toby Carvery. For some reason Carverys have never been a favourite dining place for me but, at least there was a warm Liverpudlian welcome and I felt it may be worth a try; truth be told, by this time, I was rather too de-energised to venture farther afield. My beloved ordered a mountainous plateful of salad, enriched with glazed ham and turkey, whilst I settled for the baked cod in cheese sauce. To accompany the cod, I helped myself to the generously buttered new potatoes, roast parsnips, broccoli and swede. Quite surprisingly, the roast parsnips proved an excellent companion to the baked cod. I avoided the roast potatoes as, having once tasted my very own recipe herbed and spiced roast potatoes all others are but warmed up crispy coated sludge.

Although I became quite disorientated, and feeling totally discomforted on being seated in the restaurant, I felt much more at ease once an adjacent table was vacated. I swiftly realized that a lot of my dis-ease had been very akin to claustrophobia.

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Saturday 24th February

Awoke early this morning, having found it impossible to adjust to the rather worn out mattress in our room; no matter how much I needed sleep, a soggy sprung mattress somehow made me too well aware of the care worn spring coils. The fact that I had some weird dreams seemed to demonstrate that some time had been spent in the arms of Morpheus but, the overall nocturnal experience was of the sound of speeding motors, the sound of raucous chatter and laughter both internal and external to the Lodge where we are staying, and a distinctive unease with the provided sleeping apparatus.

Breakfast was a most satisfactory affair, a wide range of cereals, teas, croissants, and toasting bread as well as fresh fruit. The chocolate croissants were a special treat. Breakfast concluded, we headed back to our room for some necessary rest; this was to be discovery time as I realized that the bed was reasonably comfortable if one lay on top of the duvet so, perhaps that will be tonight’s routine, at least on my part.

Duly rested, we then walked over to visit Helen’s step-mum once more and, after a chat, I donned my troubleshooting mantle as Kathleen’s computer and printer have been causing a few problems of late. Once I’d upgraded and updated the antivirus, the attempt at problem solving was underway; no matter how tired I may feel I do enjoy the occasional technological challenge although, on this occasion, I can only admit to about 70% success.

Following a light lunch chez Kathleen, we headed back to the Lodge for another rest period…….

Rest was to be a keynote of the weekend, primarily from necessity, and a visit we planned to Tate Liverpool seemed too much to tackle. The afternoon was spent back in our room, Helen managing to catch up on some reading whilst I drifted in and out of snoozedom.

Come early evening, we ventured across the Aigburth Road to view the menus at the ‘Madhari’ and ‘Gulshan’ Indian restaurants. Though once a regular frequenter of such establishments, it’s several years since my last visit, frequently preferring my own unique blends of spices and herbs. The ‘Gulshan’ seemed like a rather upmarket large restaurant, fully Air-conditioned, and winner of several national curry house awards whereas the ‘Madhari’ was a much more domestic type of establishment, nothing poncy here just real quality food and, I quite enjoyed the Bollywood musical selection playing quietly in the background.

Our welcome at the Madhari couldn’t have been warmer, the warmth matched only by the cuisine; whilst Helen settled for the Chicken Shaslick, served sizzling hot from a trolley and accompanied with salad and pilau rice. My choice was a Mixed Tandoori Kohari which completely surpassed any expectations! We chose to have garlic Naan bread with the meal, not having realized how generous their portions of the main dish and the pilau rice would be. Whilst we waited for our meal, a good range of pickles and chutneys were supplied to sample together with the poppadums.

On return to our room, rest and relaxation was the order of the evening.

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Sunday 25th February

Sunday was really the reason for our visit, a lunchtime and early afternoon celebration of Kathleen’s 80th Birthday, at Liverpool Cricket Club (one hundred yards down the road from where we were staying). In the morning I was thoroughly and achingly shattered and, I seriously started to wonder if I’d be up to attending the celebrations. By mid-day, I started to feel a little brighter; meantime, our daughters had popped in to see us and headed off back to the cricket club. Half-an-hour later, my beloved and I ventured along there too. All 58 0f the invited guests had turned up for the occasion, and I entered with a degree of anxiety, not having been able to attend any such social event for the past few years. At least I had the safety blanket of our accommodation being in such close proximity, had I not been able to cope. In the event, I enjoyed the buffet, my beloved selecting all the items she knew I would enjoy and, I even went on to enjoy the speeches and the musical entertainment provided by flute and keyboard, and arrangements for flute and guitar specially composed for the occasion; there is such an array of musical talent amongst Helen’s nephews and nieces. It reminded me of our wedding ceremony when Nichola (the flautist) and Matthew (keyboards and guitar) performed a jazz piece composed by Matthew for the occasion.

To my surprise, I coped admirably with the whole event. I rejoice in the fact that even six months ago it would have been impossible for me to have anticipated, the journey to Liverpool, the stay at the Inn or participating in such birthday celebrations. It’s amazing how often I am compelled to count my many blessings!

Where Did That Itch Go?

Today is Helen & My Seventh Wedding Anniversary and, as yet there's nothing I need to scratch! Our love just continues to grow!

Catching Up can be found elsewhere

Today's main blog posting, 'Catching Up (with some fishy business)', can be found on Mal's Murmurings.

New Poem

This afternoon, I have posted a freshly completed poem - MIDWINTER TREES - on both Mal's Factory and Hirsute Antiquity

4.20PM : A further poem - A NOBLE SILENCE - can also be found on the same blogs!

Blog Updates

Today's posting, AN EXTRA RAY OF SUNSHINE, can be found on 'Hirsute Antiquity'.

Yesterday's posting, A QUESTION OF PROPORTION, is on 'Mal's Murmurings'

What A Difference A Day Makes

Sunday was yet another day of bright blue skies, sufficiently bright to arouse me early from the duvet realm; quite unusually, I was up and dressed by 9.00AM. After enjoying a cooked breakfast, fatigue soon hunted me down, and necessitated a return to the bedroom for a rest; it must have been too much of a shock to my nervous system, springing out of bed at such an early hour (by recent years standards) . Many of the aches, and generally leaden demeanour of the lower limbs, that I’d anticipated on Saturday, finally caught up with me by mid-afternoon.

I managed to remain grateful that, I’m generally feeling so much better than at the same point (in the calendar) last year; Sunday’s aches are veering towards the dull throb end of the spectrum, frustrating, but far better than the kind of acute pain which totally disables the relaxation mechanism.

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This morning, my emergence into the day was of the heavily sluggish variety, feeling catarrhally bruised and choked, in both sinus and throat, a throbbing intermittent earache serves as counterpoint to a touch sensitive tenderness of the glands under the chin. I resist the urge to be tempted out to play under the bright clear sky. By 11.15AM, I manage, albeit reluctantly, to release myself from the duvet lair.

A venture to the bathroom, in eager anticipation of a refreshing shower, was somewhat thwarted when, having washed my face and undercarriage, I flopped onto the shower seat and totally lacked the stamina or impulse to carry out the rest of the cleansing operation. Could this still be payback from Friday’s overstretching?

Two-fifteen in the afternoon, finds me taking a sauntering stroll to the local shops to obtain a nicotine fix, the air is gently bracing and, within these few hundred yards I find myself struggling to stifle an overwhelming desire to yawn. The yawn wins out, again and again. By now, my right lower limb starts to feel crushed by a wide heavy ankle bracelet of pins and needles.

Back in the house, I swiftly yield to an afternoon nap. These forty winks fail to refresh and, I pick up the laptop in an attempt to overcome my lethargy. Whether it will succeed remains to be seen but, at least I’ve managed to tap out these few uninspiring words.

It Might As Well Be Spring

Last night the stars were so brightly sharp, it almost felt like one was viewing every marker of the constellations, rather than the odd solitary frontiersman. Of course, after such nocturnal clarity, a sharp frost swathed the ground by morning. By mid-day though, I was sat out on the bench beside the garden pond in shirt-sleeves; can this really be the north of England at the beginning of February.

After yesterday’s endeavours, relaxation was of the essence and, after a short time, I was able to ignore 90% of my muscular and joint aches and pains; these were of course my reward for Friday’s efforts. Meantime, my beloved had donned her gardening gear and, womanfully tackled some necessary tidying up. For me, gardening became a delightful spectator sport! Mind you, I enjoy watching ma belle whether relaxing or endeavouring; I’m just so proud to be her other half.

Several ladybirds clambered through the undergrowth and, a cirrus cloud of midges’ hyperactivated above the pond. Bliss was it in that day…, as I basked in the gently warming sunglow. The highlight of my inactivity was a formation flight of honking geese overhead; an open umbrella headed the flight, with two small inverted V’s immediately below its shelter. A larger V formation followed, with a straight line completing the arrow-like direction marker. As they moved away, I revelled in the gentle oscillation of their synchronized flapping wings as they soared across the clear blue sky.

I rejoice, and am glad, in this day the Lord has made!

Mal Mutters On!

Today's blog posting, CATCHING UP WITH MYSELF, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Just An ORDINARY Day?

There’s no such thing as an ordinary day, albeit I too often consider them as regular events. Each new moment is just that, new; “you can’t step into the same river twice”, come to think of it, you can’t even step into the same river once! All is in a constant state of flux, we are swamped with new events, decisions, purposes etc., and so, what can possibly be ordinary about it?

On other occasions, we may protest that a day has been uneventful when, what we really mean is that there have been no dramatic incidents or, we’ve not met anybody new, or we drank the same type of coffee as we did yesterday. Sorry, but if you really need a gangland slaying on the doorstep for you to make the effort to get out of bed and go about your daily chores, give me the mundane.

For me, time passes all too swiftly, even when my sole function is to sit and breathe, and stare into space, for great chunks of it. And, of course, there are always decisions to make; do I get some breakfast before I get dressed, do I feel sufficiently energised to take a shower or, do I get dressed now and take a shower later (if I really need it)? All these decisions are made in my first state of semi-alertness after a restless, or even a more restful, nights sleep. And there’s questions to be asked, vital topics like “did the dream wake me up?” or “what exactly was that dream about?”, “is it really Tuesday already?”

Each day is full of excitement and demands, sometimes the demands are too great to cope with; dare I risk seeming lazy if I don’t do it; if I perform such and such a task will I suffer from some sort of post-exertional malaise?

Today has been an atypical ordinary day. I managed to consume the coffee, which my beloved had left on the bedside table before going off to work, whilst it was still reasonably hot. Removed myself, slowly, from the duvet realm, checked my e-mails before getting dressed and, half drowsily stumbled my way downstairs to grab a banana and a bowl of cereal. A reasonably brisk hobble to the local shops then ensued. Next I illuminated the small aquarium and, subsequently fed the inhabitants thereof. A similar practise was involved in dealing with the main aquarium.

When my beloved returned from work, I prepared a delicious lightly spiced and generously herbed trout and peppers dish served with wholegrain pasta, which we eagerly devoured in the joyously stimulating company of Ross Noble (Radio 4 – 6.30pm). In the early evening I managed to sort out a recurring problem my beloved has been having, with ‘Word’, on the computer at work. To solve it, I had to first recreate it from my beloved’s verbal description. Having recreated the problem, it took little time to resolve!

So my halo has been well and truly buffed up by the encouraging response from my other half. Amidst all that activity, I even remembered to sort out a bottle to pop in the fridge; the consumption of its vinous content is imminent.

This has been an ordinary day indeed. Long live ordinary days!

I rejoice and am glad, in this day the Lord has made.

The Might of the Transnationals - The Plight of the Poor

A new report from Christian Aid, 'A Rich Seam: Who benefits from rising commodity prices?' , has been published by Christian Aid. The report detailing the shameful imbalance can be downloaded from http://www.christianaid.org.uk/indepth/0701mining/index.htm

Early One Morning

An early morning posting (early by my standards at least), 'RAUCOUS FROLICS', can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

A New Beginning

'FIRST RITE', my first new poem for 2007, can be found on both 'Mal's Factory' and 'Hirsute Antiquity'.

A few small steps for man ...

Today's posting, A FREAK OF FITNESS, can be found on both 'Mal's Murmurings' and 'Hirsute Antiquity' (Malcolm's blog on MySpace).

If any of my readers are on 'MySpace' you're more than welcome to visit Malcolm there!

A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

A day of food and thunder, comestibles and hailstones, donner und blitzen and, quelling the stomach’s rumble. Though much of the morning was spent in the duvet realm, a mid-morning glimpse of alertness was fuelled by bacon and black pudding prepared by my beloved. My sole exercise was provided by a visit to the local shops at lunchtime, to pander to my nicotine craving. The chilling icy wind, on this brief excursion, proferred no clues as to subsequent meteorological events.

On return from the shop I set to preparing a salmon and pepper savoury rice dish, to share with my beloved. After a brief interval, allowing the meal to be properly digested, my thoughts returned to food. This time, preparation of a casserole for Sunday lunch was the priority. First, I sweated a generosity of onions in paprika, turmeric, ginger and garlic imbued olive oil, before adding four chicken breasts to the equation. More lashings of paprika and ginger were called for, as the chicken sizzled, before adding a generous portion of red and green peppers, sliced mushrooms and, having diced the sizzling breasts with a wooden spatula, a tin of plum tomatoes, to the mix. Of course, it’s impossible for me to utilize plum tomatoes without adding lots of freshly ground black pepper to the mix, so the act was dutifully performed.

Midway through these preparations, a peal of thunder proved a little distracting, especially as it followed the lightning flash within a second. The lightning strikes were obviously quite localized, so a disconnecting of the TV aerial was called for, before heading back to the kitchen. Transfer all ingredients from griddle pan into a couple of casserole dishes and top them up with some chicken and vegetable gravy. Finally, I popped the casseroles into a medium heat oven to simmer for a while, before transporting myself to the living room.

All the while torrential rain was much in evidence, and this suddenly transformed into hailstones which seemed intent on finding a way to break through the double glazing. At the moment we’re feeling quite under siege, hemmed in by howling winds, hailstones, and a thunderstorm.

All that remains to do is turn up the fire, open a decent bottle of wine and, catch up on some videos or DVD’s – but perhaps a little snack will also be in order!

Meantime, the thought occurs to me that the garden pond was already close to the point of overflow before this latest downpour. I trust that the fish are safely ensconced amidst the planters and clay pipes at the bottom of the pond; I’d hate to think of them getting washed away!

Faith posting on Mal's Murmurings

A further posting for today, FAITH MATTERS, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Viewing Habits

Howling gales and lashing rain are, once again, the order of the day. Today, a degree of comfort is felt, a sense of gratitude that I have no need to venture out and face, in the flesh so to speak, these inhospitable elements!

The howling wind seems to possess many of the qualities of the talentless oiks, upgraded to the status of celebrity, by programmes like ‘Big Brother’; it makes a lot of noise and, its most noticeable effect is of a negative variety. The wind usually manages to blow itself out after a limited period of time, hopefully these ‘celebrities’ will follow suit. The big problem, for me, is to understand why anyone with a modicum of talent or intelligence should even consider subjecting themselves to this type of inane indignity?

I admit that I have never watched the aforementioned programme so, my understanding is based only on hearsay; hearsay is so potent that I have no desire to make amends for this omission in my viewing habits.

At least looking out, through a rain streaked windowpane, at our battered and windswept garden gives me something worthwhile to watch!

For A Change

Today's blog posting, CONSTANT CHANGE, can be found on Mal's Murmurings!

Rise and Shine

Much of the morning was sunshiny and bright, although most of my information on that score results from an interpretative process, assessing the degree of brightness which penetrated the bedroom curtains. Although my body demanded an early night, last evening, I still found it impossible to release myself from the duvet realm before 11.15AM.

First port of call was the bathroom where, my beloved having securely installed a shower seat, I was able to luxuriate in its warmly soothing spray. Although the aches and pains, emanating from the Achilles tendon, have considerably subsided during the past few days (the meloxicam, codeine and paracetamol diet having a degree of success) I am still unable to take the amount of exercise that I’d gradually built up to over the preceding twelve months.

On Friday, Helen dropped me off at ‘Open Church’ where I enjoyed chatting with a few of the old faithfuls but, the walk back home proved a rather fatiguing experience, especially with the battle against a bustling wind which misguidedly attempted to aid me on my journey. Yesterday, I managed to attend a coffee morning at the neighbourhood chapel, with my beloved who then chauffeured me down for lunch at ‘The Park’ (formerly ‘The Hornbeam’) our local Brewer’s Fayre which has attempted, much to our disgust to go a little more upmarket. Having got up the nerve to venture in there, for the first time since the revamp/refurbishment last September, the experience proved most rewarding.

Dining out can be a pleasant experience, as long as I don’t expect it to produce the quality of food that I manage to prepare. The general ambience of ‘The Park’ proved cosily welcoming, unexpectedly so considering they describe themselves as a venue for ‘Contemporary Dining & Drinking’. I am pleased to report, a surprisingly unpretentious ambience and menu; a comfortably relaxed lunchtime experience!

So, I return to the bright sunshiny morning, although my first venture out was strictly speaking early afternoon. I hobbled along to the local 7-11 shop for a packet of cigs, shortly after noon, enjoying the crisp brightness rather more than my right leg appreciated the stick assisted exertion. This ten minute venture provided sufficient exercise to see me through the remainder of the day.

Before the tendon inflammation entered my life experience, I’d managed to reduce my nocturnal bed rest requirement to between 10 and 10 ½ hours but, following the limb directed major sleep deprivation it has recently increased to between 11 and 13 hours. Some severe disciplining may be called for!

Today's utterance

Today's posting, "Rhubarb, rhubarb ..." can be found on both 'Mal's Murmurings' and 'Hirsute Antiquity'!

The variegated dance of life

Oh, the bliss … a wonderful return to the almost normal disrupted sleep pattern. The cocktail, of anti-inflammatories and analgesics, has finally started to kick in and, my traditional mode of randomly disrupted bouts of sleep feels just great! What a contrast to the sleep disrupted pattern of acutely pained wakefulness.

The staircase now proves less of an obstacle, more of a routine; the exercise has been honed to a fine art of stick and handrail assisted good leg lead on the ascent, pained leg lead for the descent. My hobbling around, within the confines of the house, is an altogether less excruciating experience; I occasionally manage to maintain an upright posture, as opposed to a crooked one, during these ambulations.

The dance of life maintains an endless fascination. I rejoice in this day the Lord has made!

Not here - but elsewhere

Hirsute Antiquity - Malcolm in 'MySpace' guise - has today posted "Content - but not complacent"!

Mal's Murmuring Again

Today's posting, A Long Slow Getting Nowhere, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Acrobatics of the Absurd

To shift oneself from laying on ones back, in order to attain a side lying position, the first imperative is to shuffle the bottom up towards the top of the bed, elevate the upper torso and, only then attempt the rolling ritual. Several painful attempts, to do so, may well be followed by a marginally less painful manoeuvre; once a relatively comfortable recumbent position has been attained, the possibility exists that it may be maintained for at least 5 minutes before the familiar dis-ease once more re-asserts its control of the situation.

Extending the offending limb, downwards, may alleviate the sharp shooting pain or, alternatively, intensify the same troubling symptom. Screams, in response to the agony are permitted but are by no means compulsory; tears may be stifled back or permitted free reign according to the situation. It is important to remember that removal of oneself from the bed will at first require the exertion of sitting oneself upright before gently manoeuvring the lower limbs over the edge of the sleeping apparatus.

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A totally sleep deprived, routinely fatigued, body is forced to exist in a state of constant alert.

For the past three nights, although totally shattered in mind and body, sleep has been a) difficult to come by and b) when it arrives, disrupted after a few minutes. Agony is too passive a term to describe the degree of discomfort, even though it is definitely agonizing. Nerve shattering fatigue seems to be overwhelmed by the degree of acute pain that sleep is ruled out as an overcoming option.

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This morning, after a further night of doubt, sorrow and affliction, my body finally yielded to the overwhelming necessity for sleep and, for several late morning hours the pain was forgotten as I lapsed into the arms of Morpheus. For this I give thanks.

Today's posting on Mal's Murmurings

Today’s posting, “Try A Little Tenderness”, can be found on ‘Mal’s Murmurings’.

Pillow Talk

After what has been my best Christmas for years, health-wise, the familiar tiredness and sundry aches, pains and sensitivities have returned with a vengeance. Although I failed to emerge from the duvet-realm, on Christmas Day, until well after (unbeknown to me) our guests had arrived, the day passed really well. Obviously, the ‘Journey To Bethlehem’, and subsequent viewing of Midnight Mass on TV, had taken a little toll on my stamina but, I still managed to remain in good spirits throughout the day without recourse to the seclusion of the bedroom.

By Boxing Day severe back pains had returned, alongside aching muscles in both arms and lower limbs. On Wednesday, after a late emergence into a day spent struggling with a frustratingly painful locking back, I had to call it quits before 8.30 in the evening. An additional pillow, under my legs proved indispensable, although its position underwent frequent changes, horizontally across my side of the bed behind my knees then, turned end on to proffer support from ankle to thigh. As the night ached along, the pillow was doubled up under my knees, whilst an additional support pillow was placed under my head.

Each laborious turn, from back to side, from full stretch to foetal curl, found me torn between a scream and tears. A tingling band, around the right calf, was swiftly transmuted into a full blown cramp before its further conversion into a pulsing sharp bruise-like pain, which seemed to percolate through every sinew of the offending limb. In the early hours, I struggled down the stairs to grab a cigarette and take some pain killers. On occasion the pain was more intense as I rested it on the floor but, at other times the discomfort was more intense as I raised it. A struggle back upstairs ensued and, I enjoyed an early morning cuppa with my beloved.

Ma belle assisted me in getting dressed, and saw me safely down the stairs once more, before she departed for work. The last couple of days have found me reluctantly resorting to a varied diet of Codeine Phosphate, Co-Codamol, Paracetamol and Ibuprofen tablets, despite my marked reluctance to take painkillers. In order to prevent any lapse into self-pity, I decided to venture down to Open Church, an intention swiftly thwarted by the lower limbs desire to collapse after each couple of steps.

My qualitative leap forward, in terms of my enjoyment of Christmas festivities, will prove a tremendous boost in my attempt to overcome the subsequent steps back!

I can still rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

One More Step

Today's blog posting, 'One More Step', can be found on Mal's Murmurings. I suppose it could be described as a PROGRESS REPORT!

Malcolm's Christmas Message

This posting also appears on 'Hirsute Antiquity' and 'Mal's Murmurings'

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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.

Look Elsewhere

Today's blog posting, "Keeping Pace", can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Isolation

Positivity and negativity vie for dominance in my outlook; the positive frequently requires a conscious effort, whilst the negative surreptitiously manoeuvres itself into my soul whenever emotional and physical stamina is at low ebb. The approach of Christmas is having an emotionally bad effect, as I go through my address book and see the number of “friends” who’ve never been in touch at all since health problems removed me from the socializing circuit. Those who I used to regularly meet up with at gigs, concerts, art previews etc. have never bothered to make any contact, whilst others I knew on a more casual basis, even as a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear, still do make the occasional contact. Of course, not being able to go out to work narrows enormously the number of people one is likely to meet! My primary local contacts now tend to be those I meet at ‘Open Church’ and, I quite often feel that those friends I’ve met only in cyberspace are truer friends than many of those with whom I had more frequent “real life” contact. The internet is truly a lifesaver.

Real world friends can almost be counted on the fingers of one hand, apart from some who simply maintain the annual Christmas round robin type of contact. At the worst moments, I feel like I must have betrayed people by not being able to socialize, albeit by force of circumstance rather than choice but, at this time of year the sense of isolation bites much harder. Isolation is frequently more difficult to cope with than the, at times excruciating, pain and fatigue which initially forced one into the limbo of seclusion. Unfortunately, the effort required for any degree of socializing demands such a heavy payback, and only a fool could look forward to payback time!

Missions Accomplished

This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Finally, after previous futile attempts at both collection and delivery, the Futon has been delivered (by my beloved) to its new home in West Yorkshire. Its departure will be little lamented. I hardly anticipated the aggro that one could expect in trying to give away an item of furniture but, at least we now have a fraction more lebensraum.

If our younger daughter doesn’t require the other futon, when she moves into her new home, we have a prospective recipient who lives locally. As the previous one was advertised on the local ‘freecycle’ site, I had expected someone who lived more locally to want it (rather than someone living thirty to forty miles away); being let down on three occasions by the first person, who failed to collect at pre-arranged times, and then the difficulties experienced in getting the item to the eventual recipient, I will in future only advertise small items on the site.

I ventured into town once more, this morning; whether I would venture there without the assistance of ma belle chauffeuse is another matter but, it certainly feels wonderful to have a semblance of normality in my life. It really is amazing, the everyday activities that we take for granted and, my past few years of rather restricted activities have taught me to appreciate the potential pleasure of being able to embrace the most mundane of routine tasks.

Where once I was aggressively frustrated, with the interminable list of (apparently) unrelated ailments and discomforts, consistently pushing myself to the point of collapse, I have, consequent upon obtaining a diagnosis, learned how to manage my condition. Physical and emotional stamina may only be at 30% of their pre-illness levels but, alongside this modest improvement, my powers of concentration are also showing some signs of restoration.

I rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

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I have, this afternoon, posted a new poem, ‘TRANSFORMED (for Helen)’, on ‘MAL’s FACTORY’.

A Celebration

Today's blog posting, A Celebration, can be found on 'Hirsute Antiquity'.

... and tired of journeying too!

Following on from my “tired of waiting” Freecycle experience, today’s late afternoon and early evening witnessed my tired of journeying mode. This morning, a delightful Kenyan-born lady arrived to collect the futon, which I’d advertised on ‘freecycle’. Unfortunately, it proved impossible to fit the component parts of the futon into her car so, when my beloved returned home around 3.30pm we decided to put the futon into the back of our car and, contacted the lady who had called this morning.

We obtained directions from the web before setting off on our journey to Keighley. There were stages of the journey where the travel instructions proved confusing and, the hold-up of the traffic through Otley had not been foreseen. We did eventually find Halifax Road in Keighley but, shortly before this, we realised that we had neither the address or telephone number of the potential recipient of our gift. We vaguely remembered the house number was something in the three hundreds but, found it impossible to keep tabs on the passing numbers. Even earlier in the journey, I’d struggled to overcome a panic attack and was suffering quite severe sensory overload from the lights of oncoming traffic.

Needless to say, I became increasingly stressed and, unwittingly, managed to transmit this sensation to ma belle chauffeuse. So, mission unaccomplished, we were homeward bound when the real fun began as we took a wrong turning which led us over Ilkley Moor, only I wasn’t “Baht ‘At” but, had rather rolled the brim of my thermal headpiece over eyes and ears to alleviate the aforementioned sensory overload. Eventually, as we approached Otley there was a diversion as no access to the town centre was permitted. Fortunately, the diversion led us onto a route with which my beloved was quite familiar and, we eventually arrived home some three and a quarter hours after our departure. I am a poor traveller at the best of times but …. I leave the rest to your imagination!

New Blog Posts

A posting for today, "Mal's New Moves" , can be found on 'Hirsute Antiquity'.

On 'Mal's Murmurings', today's new posting is "So tired, tired of waiting ...".

The Quest Fulfilled

Despite my relative inactivity, I still find it difficult to make time for contacting friends and acquaintances online, no matter how strong the intention. If I relied solely on handwritten letters, despatched via snail mail, I'd be even more guilty of neglect.

For the past few weeks I’ve renewed my quest for a faster computer, with a decent graphics card and a couple of gigabytes of RAM. The original quest began back in the summer months but I kept putting it on hold, somehow, the recent ‘down’ phase of my existence added impetus to the quest. I realize that may sound quite absurd but, the truth is, as my already meagre powers of concentration seemed to be in under-drive I rediscovered my facility of absorbing technical specs of computer kit. Many short sharp visits to back issues of PC magazines, and PC related websites, proved a delightful distraction from my familiar catalogue of aches and pains.

Severe back pains sustained their attempt to divert me from my quest for the computer grail but I boldly fought against the odds! After Tuesday afternoon’s acupuncture session, I felt sufficiently energised to venture down, the following morning, to the local PC emporium and drooled over the machine that I’d more or less decided would meet my requirements. The fact that it was also equipped with both analog and digital TV cards seemed to sway my beloved, the idea of having digital TV upstairs as well as in the living room appealed to her. We decided on a 19” widescreen monitor to complement the base unit and a set of JBL 2.1 speakers added the final touch.

The setting up process started on Wednesday afternoon, not without its moments of frustration, continuing on into Thursday afternoon (not a sustained effort you understand). As I’m still hanging onto the laptop and my old PC, I’m not in too much of a rush to install some graphics and DTP programmes as, its maybe time to upgrade from my current programmes. Of course, the primary reason for the new machine is to facilitate my graphics work but, I’m not going to rush things.

It seems quite strange that it wasn’t many years ago that I reluctantly succumbed to using my beloved’s old PC, that she’d used for lesson preparation in her teaching days and, agreed to go ‘online’. My only previous experience of computers had been when the whole stock and accounts procedures, where I was employed as Office Manager/Accounts Manager, was transferred to a computerised system in days before PCs were an option. In this situation, working as a VDU operator, didn’t have half the appeal that the job had previously held. [It’s strange that I should have lamented the loss of my hand-written double entry book-keeping etc., especially as someone who always hated figure work but, that’s another story!]

Within a few weeks I’d put up my first website but, it took quite a while to discover the delights of the ‘blogosphere’. Helen’s old machine had a mere 1GB HDD and upgraded to the RAM to its maximum of 96MB. It wasn’t too long before Beth’s partner made me a new machine. As I succumbed to ME/CFS, and much of my real world socializing was drastically curtailed, the internet provided me with a whole new world to explore. I shall be forever grateful to ma belle for pushing me in this direction. Meantime, when Helen had to retire from teaching for health reasons, part of her recovery programme got her involved in learning computing skills and, I found myself being called upon for troubleshooting purposes.

Forgive the rambling – the keyboard just took on a life of its own but, a degree of weariness compels me to slump down in front of the telly. Stamina levels, you will be grateful to know, have temporarily curtailed today’s rambling.

Malcolm's Amazingly Bold Adventure

At the end of a week of weariness, in which an at times acute back pain has insisted on making its presence felt, this afternoon yours truly undertook a major expedition. Chauffeured by ma belle, I boldly dipped a toe into the realm of major grocery shopping; no such task had been undertaken by Malcolm in the past two or three years.

Already, as the car nosed its way Waitrose-ward there were hints of panic encroaching upon my already discomforted demeanour but, I refused to turn back (bravely resisting this tempting offer from my chauffeuse).

Pushing the trolley, around the store, actually proffered me a modicum of support, although any necessary backing up of the self same trolley made me wince on several occasions.

It really is good to have experienced this aberrant return to ‘normality’ but, I have no urgent desire to replay the exercise!

Just Another Day

Today's blog posting "Just Another Day" can be found on Mal's Murmurings.

Nothing Ventured ...

Having been thwarted on my excursion to ‘Open Church’ yesterday, owing to a marked lack of stamina, this morning I ventured there through the pouring rain. My first change of venue this week, energy reserves having been very low since Monday’s “scrape hard, hammer light” defrosting session! It’s strange really how little exertion is required to knock my progress off track.

Yesterday, I managed to make it as far as the local Post Office / Newsagent before my body cried enough; there’s no doubt that I could have made it down to St Marks but, I feared that I wouldn’t have had sufficient resilience to exercise my usual scintillating conversational skills. Today, despite getting well and truly rain bedraggled en route, I still managed to sustain an hour of conversation with sundry semi-kindred spirits.

Our thoughts have been with Beth, moving house on such a rain tormented day but, not sufficiently so to offer an (un)helping hand. The spirit may be half-willing but the flesh is well and truly weak!

Slow and Grey

Today's blog posting, "Slow and Grey", can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

How Boyish or Girlish are You?

You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

Routine Services

Scrape hard, hammer light; an endless repetition to perform. Fill up another bowl of boiling water and place it on the middle shelf, enable rapid thaw. And then the scrape and tap once more; remove and empty the floor based tray, then shut the door once more. My prophecy, of the time the task would take, is swiftly falsified. The predicted hour multiplies.

I suppose its part of the price to pay for a legacy of neglect. Defrosting of the freezer should be performed bi-annually and not biennially as turns out to be the case. Anyway, this ritual (more honoured in the breach than its observance) was carried out by yours truly last evening. And this small task has taken its toll; thirteen hours after retiring to the duvet realm I re-emerged, unrefreshed, from the spasmodic grip of Morpheus. Vivid dreams had found me active in the awakened world; the transformation into reality was far more sluggish and, activity was the last thing my body desired.

Reluctantly, I ventured up to the garden pond for a ritual rinsing of the filters, after which I refrained from restarting the pump but, perhaps I should have simply reduced the flow rate. Anyway, it’s good to be settled back in the house now, in familiar restful mode, intermittently considering whether the pump switch off time is appropriate. Amazing, just how many decisions life requires us to make, even from a sedentary pose!