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Welcome to the same old, wearing a
new hat. No change in the rules
regarding editing: if you tut a lot, or 
pull nasty faces when you don’t think
the errors are looking, they'll remain
and multiply out of spite. If you show
kindness and understanding, they are
likely to disperse before the week ends.




On Sunday I awoke into my new-found happy
-Sunday mindset, until memories rekindled a
sense of shame at failing to meet this daft
assignment yet again. Worse this time, there
being nothing but me and my constant friend
fatigue to blame.

I got on and finished the job and even
corrected bits here and there. Not that it
could have been noticed, but usually I leave
anything that I write to go cold before I touch
it again, so that really was an extra show of
effort I suppose. I can’t say I felt any of the
usual satisfaction of having completed a piece
that evening, albeit a silly one.




On Monday I had a moment of realisation as I
stepped into my morning shower; my problem
with the Catch-Ups was that I was being
beleaguered by the very name of the weekly
assignment that I had set myself to undertake.
Now, I don’t expect all of you to understand,
but those of you who are of a sensitive, or
spiritual temperament are quite probably used
to seeing situations of this nature, and the
devastating effects that they cause all the

Having finally realised my former folly and,
having wasted far too much time already,
I quickly came upon an inoffensive but fitting
alternative name for... this.

There were also a few practical changes I had
to make to the website, in prep. for the Name-
Changing, in less than a week. There were other
things too, that
needed to be done to ensure a
warm and friendly welcome to this Page's new

Only once this was all done did I allow myself
that first supercilious smile that had escaped
me  for several days.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   



Tuesday was to be a day for absolutely nothing
else but grown-up writing.  This was my firm
resolution made before getting up, and lasting
until midday when I made the mistake of
turning the picture on my computer over to
Twitter. I know it – you don’t have to tell me
that I’m weak.  As penance, I did try to make
an early start to this, the 1st ‘As I recall..’ ,

hoping that the new title might allow a  
relaxing of the  work schedule but no, without
the pressure of a looming deadline it wasn’t
to be.

So I went to next worst thing. Actually as
penances go, you’d think this should really be
right at the top. I started doing housework. Not
only did I start doing it, I stuck at it, realising
as I did so how totally ironic it was. I was
sticking at tidying and polishing and hoovering,
which I hated doing – which I had no need to
do, which somebody else would do again in two
days time. Yet the grown-up writing which, as
soon as I get into it, takes me away from
everywhere I don’t want to be and into places
with people I choose... can’t seem to bind me
to it the same way.

If only I could use it as a way of off-loading
guilt without having to grow to hate it first.




Went out for pleasant lunch with a very good
friend, during which we talked and listened and
laughed, exchanging angry views on the bad
guys and deep frustrations felt at our
impotence to stop them or, in any real way
help those most hurt by them. These were
discussions that could only have been had
between close friends, for my part at least,
as they would have been too exposing. I could be
quite wrong of course. 

It was early Wednesday evening UK time and,
knowing that millions of others here and
around the world were also anticipating the
2012 Opening Ceremony; I found my own
enthusiasm growing. I tried hard not to analyse
this, although it was a rare reaction for me
to have to anything sport related. I went along
with it, and found to my astonishment (I had
feared it wouldn’t be very good), the
Paralympics Opening Ceremony was an
amazing collage of UK life and changes and
achievements, acted out seamlessly by
talented full and less-full-bodied Artists and
Athletes together. I avidly watched it right to
the end – which was more than I did the
‘proper’ Olympics equivalent ceremony,
although I did watch and enjoy the first half of
that before conceding to my bed.

What made such a difference? I don’t know.
Audiences, especially in the UK took the
organisers and more so the politicians by
surprise, by turning out in such a high number
and generally being so supportive of these
games. Athletes of the able and not-so-able
denominations all say that after working
alongside each other for a while that their
differences are forgotten. Maybe that’s it.
Wouldn’t that be a great legacy? We are all
different from each other in dozens of
noticeable ways that we chose to ignore, or
genuinely don’t notice, or do notice and adapt
a little accordingly... but life goes on.
How wonderful would it be if we all opened our eyes
and accepted people as people first? And how
much greater still should we go on to teach our
governments to do so also?




I have been given an invitation to a (belated)
birthday party, being held next Saturday. Of
course it will make writing this difficult – unless
I write it prior to Saturday, of course... and
there is the matter of it being held in Harrow,
although before my comment, which I think
was pre-empted as an excuse, had left my lips,
I’d already been informed that ‘a lift was being
arranged. That still leaves the matter of
clothing. What to wear when your wardrobes
are full of clothes that fitted a younger,
slimmer, trimmer, altogether more partyish
previous version of yourself. Actually, I have
probably put most of those in charity bags over
the last couple of years or so, along with other
items that I’ve bought whilst self-delusion
ruled the day.

It would be so much easier if punk was back in
style as I could at least adapt what I’ve got
with pins.

I once went to a fancy dress party, as a punk.
A friends little girl sprayed my hair orange,
emptying the entire can. The colour remained,
at least in part, during the next day as I sat
through a long stuffy meeting at the work’s
head office. 




On Friday, I knew that my son was coming
over in the morning to help with the garden
and that we would then, together be visiting
his grandmother. For that reason – and
because I desperately didn’t want to be forced
to plead for extra time yet again, I sat myself
down, accepted no excuses and wrote Sunday
– Tuesday of the above.

To reward myself for such stoicism, I put the
oven on to bake some shop bought semi-baked
rolls and turned on the TV, ready to watch a
pre-recorded film. I did not however, switch off
the computer. My intention – hope maybe, but
nothing less than that, was to return to it to do
more. But alas...




I have completed the above; my son has
finished in the garden. Soon I will try to
splodge my make-up onto the appropriate
parts of my face before re-damping and drying
my hair to update the old birds nest style.

On my return I will attempt to upload this in its
entirety – but me telling you that now is
pointless as I will either have done it anyway
... or I will have failed, so why point it out?

Thank you once again for looking in and I hope you have a
lovely week. If you are interested in reading previous weeks
ramblings, please find links under logo at top of page.


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