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   Thank you kindly for visiting me here at the
               Impossible Dream,
where I will tell you tales of moments in my week
               As I recall.. them





Seventy six, seventy seven, seventy eigh...ouch, dam... I’m Sorry, have you
been standing, waiting there for long? And do you mind me asking how you
got in? Of course, you beamed yourself up at my request.
(How silly of me).


Recently I have been given an unequivocal boot up the rear by way of the
Paralympics. Enough of one to have me send away for a
'pedal exercise with digital display'
to enable constant leg exercise whilst working at my computer. It arrived
so quickly I hadn’t even had time to guide myself through the logic of the
purchase. So until I fully understood that this was not a chastisement for
not exercising, or disregard of... other factors, the apparatus remained
sealed in the box by the door.


It wasn’t until Sunday morning that I felt ready to fire up the peddle-power.
Once I’d sorted out the tension, the foot straps and given up fiddling with the
digital doo-dahs that, had I bent down to read I‘d never have got up from, I
started counting my foot rotations. I wasn’t able to get any work done whilst
using the contraption, but I had once reached 107 peddlings before everything
slipped and I bashed my ankle on a leg of the chair. I haven’t found another
home for it yet, which is a good sign and sometimes I do give it the odd peddle,
though sadly it’s still more of a fidget than a sprint.




On Monday I had an early meeting in town with my son. Had I said that prior
to being put out to pasture, it would have taken on quite a different meaning.
My mornings then began very much earlier, with a voluntary 7am start at work
and the meetings held in town were in London rather than locally as this was and,
of course the context of the meetings were quite different too. Also when this
meeting was over, the day was my own. There are undoubtedly down sides to
being unable to work, those which not only affect your pocket and your general
ranking in the food chain, but your self-esteem, etc, etc... However, once you
have got used to the changes as much as is ever possible, NOT being a slave to
time can be a rather wonderful thing.

he meeting having finished before half past ten in the morning, I was informed
that Weatherspoons’ offer a very reasonable breakfast and, as one such establishment
was located very near to where we stood, it would be sensible to go there ‘to see’. As
a person who never eats before lunchtime at the earliest, the thought was fairly
nauseating – but I was very thirsty and on that basis agreed.

Did you know that the height of the milk jugs used in those pubs are almost
the exact width of their coffee mugs? Had they been slightly shorter I would have
found it easier to prise mine back out after it slipped from my fingers as I was pouring.
As it was, I was forced to sip away at much of the remaining fluid that hadn’t abandoned
the vessel for the table, floor or my clothing, until I could see where best to wedge the
end of the teaspoon to flip it out. I tried very hard to maintain my dignity throughout this
ordeal, but sopping wet with shaky hands seemed to be all the signs the early feeders sort
as promise of further tricks by me at any moment. I have since been told that it was only
the mad look in my eyes that stopped people cheering me on. I must try to find it again
and practice, practice, practice.





Tuesday seemed about the right time to finally plant the four succulents that had sat
in my garden in the plastic container they came in, quite uncomfortably I am sure, for
the last three and a half weeks. For three of those weeks we had looked at each other
through poorly cleaned glass, they I felt pleadingly and me not entirely avoiding their
gaze, but pretending not to read the message. They were after all built for withstanding
droughts... or dry conditions, and I’m sure that I watered them shortly after bringing them
home. A few days ago I moved them to under the hydrangea. If anyone knows what it’s
like to feel thirsty, she does.

My freezer and food cupboard was also nearly empty, if you ignore out of date tins and
packets and some frozen meat that I bought with good intentions that I will give now give
away rather than bother to cook myself. I don’t really do a great deal of food shopping
lately, which is odd judging by my size – and before anyone jumps up to say “it’s not how
much you eat, but what...” I know.

So that was the quandary, whether to bed and water the plant life or, feed the fridge and
freezer with food that I fancy when I am making the order but instantly feel guilty about on
its arrival. Should the latter being the case, I’d be left with two options:

1.   Try to put all the surplus food together as much as possible. Tell son exactly what I will
be offloading on him ASAP. If unable to persuade him to accept any, throw items in bin
rendering them inedible.


2.   Eat everything that I shouldn’t have ordered, haven’t eaten for ages and won’t eat again
for goodness knows how long and only stop when I feel sick and bloated, then throw items
in bin after rendering them inedible. Wait for major avalanche of guilt.

I decided to stick to the grown-up writing.




Now that other people’s children are back at school and the Olympics and Paralympics are nearly
over, time has come to dust off my wobbly railcard and decide where to book another day out.
I have this conversation with my son on and off all year round, although this year we seem to
have let other factors get in the way, hence this year we have only had a day out once.  I think
that I let my increased wobbliness on that day put me off.

Well, I fear no longer! (Huh.) I now have elbow crutch/es and will travel. I have been handed by
said son a promo leaflet for a zoo. I don’t think that it is this particular zoo that he is interested
in, but zoos in general. He is more of an animal person than I am, but neither of us wants to
see creatures locked up in small cages. The alternative as I understand it means either miles of
walking, or a novelty ride around part of the park at a speed, which prevents proper browsing
(or do I mean grazing?).

On Wednesday I made it my purpose to research, commit to and book tickets for a zoological
based day excursion. Did you know that there are 50 establishments registered as zoos in the UK?
No? It’s true. I looked up quite a few; the ones that I thought were within a couple of hours train
journey-ing, but then to be honest it got so boring. I’ve passed the project over to the animal
enthusiast and plan to focus my attention, next time, on places of historical interest.




What do you have to do to make Androids like you? I now have two. Hang on a moment please.

Sorry about that. I just had to make sure that neither of them was within earshot. I have one
chunky 10inch tablet who, not meaning to be rude, has never really shown much talent for doing
anything smart. True, his first language and therefore his culture are different to what is expected
of him here, but for goodness sake... don’t turn this into a racist issue.

I have now changed my mobile to a Samsung Galaxy Y, if that means anything to anyone. I believe
this falls into the category of iPhone for reasons best known to techno geeks, people with excessive
amounts of expendable income and those who want to be seen as such. I wanted it to use on days
out, that I will soon be booking and possibly, to use sometimes in my bedroom now that I have given
my original laptop away and the tablet is not playing his part in replacing her. If all that isn’t bad
enough, my new mobile, receptive as it is to my touch in many areas, doesn’t appear eager to
download when asked, told or finally even ordered to.

I wasn't happy with myself for taking that tone, especially when the very next day I received a
text and reimbursement from the network supplier, apologising for the poor quality of service the
day before. Once I’d cooled down, I apologised and explained my reasons – but can you honestly
say that you wouldn’t you have done have exactly the same, in my place?




Unusually, I am actually writing this here Friday slot on Friday, as I have also written Tuesdays -
Thursdays. Why? Because, for those of you who chose not to visit last week I have been invited to
a party tomorrow, hence the need to reschedule the scribbling sessions to: as much as I could stand
yesterday and as long as it takes today.

The smarter of you, (not in any Androidy sort of way), might have thought you noticed me equivocating
slightly in the last paragraph. Well you were right. I have been busy writing but there is only so much
that I can say that has not already been said by me about the process of producing ‘As I recall’
(formerly Catch-Up’). This only leaves me to comment on a party I haven’t yet attended or, parties
in general to which I am generally not invited. Now do you understand the hesitation?

It would have been nice if at least one of you had looked even vaguely surprised, or sympathetic maybe
... less than amused would have left me with at least a modicum of pride intact - ?

“By indignities men come to dignities.”  Francis Bacon.  Hang on a minute - where did that come from? -
and why men? Women have indignities too you know...
 “Even rabbits insult an dead lion.”  What? The
world’s gone mad! I’ll have to go now, I’m sorry I need to lie down.




Okay, I haven’t got much time to get ready. I’m being picked up at 1pm and if you’ve heard me describe
myself or seen the mug-shot on Twitter, you’ll appreciate the amount of time it’s going to take me just
in fright prevention. I meant to squirt myself with spray tan yesterday – in fact most days for the last
several weeks, although they don’t count now since it would have worn off anyway.

I also meant to iron some clothes that got screwed up either on their journey home, whenever that was,
or in the wardrobes that are overcrowded with ... you know the story. I hate ironing. Mostly because I just
hate ironing but also because it makes me hot, and with a faulty thermostat I just get hotter and hotter...
I was only going to iron what I had to, which meant trying things on. Trying things on in the evening is like
watching the worst horror movie with the lights flickering, all alone on a stormy night just before you go to bed.
I’m not masochistic so I left that for today.

It was a wonderful mini-garden party where I met friends that I hadn’t seen for too long and ate lots of
incredible food, including a slice of ice cream van birthday cake, a reference to one of the birthday girl’s first
jobs.  Now I am tired and, without further typing or read-through I surrender this to the mercy of the Web.

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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