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22.09.12

  Please Be Gentle When Judging.
    Though Of No Literary Value,
      This Is Still My New-Born
        That I Lay Before You.

 

 

Sunday:

 

To wake up Sunday morning was a joy as I had
made no plans at all; no persons were scheduled
to drop-in and no odious tasks were screaming for
my attention – the day was born for my personal
use alone.

It took me no time at all to decide that I would
spend the first hour or two watching recorded
programs without moving a muscle, or at least
none below my waist. I had a selection to choose
from: QI, Bones, Criminal Minds, a program taped
a week or two ago with Stephen Hawkins, Dr Who
(I’m still convinced that there is a connection
between the last two, but when I last said
something similar to that, I swear I was fol... no,
never mind). Anyway, I watched one very old
episode of ‘Have I got news for you?’ followed by
a not terribly convincing ‘Ghost Whisperer’, before
finally deciding to get myself up.

Of course by now guilt was setting in, but not as
much as it would have been any other day of the
week. In truth I was probably more annoyed with
myself for having wasted the time watching
programmes that weren't totally absorbing. I
suppose it was a bit like bunking off school and
then having nothing to do that was really
naughty.

 

 

Monday:

 

Of course I can recall there was a Monday last
week, that it followed Sunday and that it preceded
Tuesday. If need be I could swear to it in a court of
law, though not on a Bible as I don't see how that
could possibly effect the validity of the words that I
would  then speak.

Most of the people who are asked to do so, are
unlikely to be  Christians anyway, certainly
not in any historical sense of the word. So why offer
them a veil of honesty to hide behind? As for the
genuine believers, the minority who walk the walk,
then I don't think that they would need a book to
swear on, whether it be the Bible,  the Koran or any
other religious teachings. They would already know
what was right and that what they were about to say
would only be the truth. The rest they would leave up
to their God.  As for the the judges and the juries
wanting to hear the solemn oaths sworn - how many
trials have to end in a conviction before they realise,
words spoken over the ancient books can't magically 
take on their meaning or absorb their goodness.

Perhaps we should go back to our childhoods with
the 'cross your heart and hope to die'. In my
world everybody's truth would talk for itself – be
allowed to do so, encouraged and helped if
necessary, but not hidden, changed or fed to the
dogs depending on who, what and where you are.

Monday... Monday...nope, I still can’t recall a
thing. This what? What's that he’s saying? That
wasn't me! Yes, I can swear to it...
Just because I
don't know where I was, doesn't mean I don't
know I wasn't there...

 

 

Tuesday:

Tuesday was the day to visit my mother. I must
confess to totally hedonistic reasons for choosing
the day - it was steak night (I think it is called) at
the local Wetherspoons, and I was dying for
another 10 ounces ribeye. The only drawback was
that my son does voluntary work on Tuesdays and
I wasn't sure what time he would be available
from. Not that it mattered, as we assumed that
the offer only started in the evening anyway.

As it happened he finished quite early. We got to
my mother/his grandmother at around 4:00 PM
much to her surprise, although I had phoned her
only an hour or two before to remind her of our
planned visit. Having sat and chatted drank coffee
and partaken of the chocolates that we’d just
given her, we finally left her to her ‘Tea’.

As this is the one and only time in the week that I
usually get to go around town these days, my son
tends to remind me that he sees it as ‘my'
shopping time. Slightly patronising, but because I
know it's meant well I refrain from screaming,
externally at least. 

The main High Street is long and because we were
still quite early, the taxi driver drops us at the
opposite end to the pub so that we can make our
way slowly via every shop that takes our interest.
As we go on, these become fewer and my energy
fades. Eventually feeling exhausted and more than
ready for the meal, we arrived at the pub only to find
that the special deal with the steaks was an all-day
offer anyway. Still, had I known that from the start
I'd never have had 'my' day in town, would I?

Oh...and the meal was amazingly tasty for the price.


Wednesday:

On Wednesday I was due to the pig out yet again.
A friend I hadn't seen, probably for a few years
was coming over after she had finished her
morning shift and we were due to go out for
lunch. The arrangements were made the previous
weekend, after I had left what was for me, a very
rare ‘hi, how you doing’ type message for her and
her partner on Facebook, to which she responded
with an actual telephone call. How strange was
that, eh?

En route to the restaurant we first stopped at the
pharmacy where I apologised for not being in the
day before when they had attempted to deliver
my meds - although they should actually have
been delivered on Wednesday. When I quietly
reminded them of this, they asked me if I then
wanted them delivered that evening. Having
showed my gratitude for the offer, I left with the
large back of goodies.

Second stop was at what I was about to call their
new house, but that would be misleading if not
completely inaccurate. New to me it certainly was,
to them however it had been home for I think
somewhere in the region of about 12 to 15 years.
Me, being the semi-reclusive useless friend that I
am, I had not before that day taken up the offer
of seeing where they lived after they moved from
this town all that time ago. Not for any reason
connected to them going or personal to them –
not for any good reason at all.

Finally we had a mediocre meal at the Harvester
near her home, which was made far more
palatable by the company of a very good friend.

 

 

Thursday:

On Thursday I was hoping once and for all to sort
out the ongoing problems that nPower are causing
my son. As anyone who reads these ramblings
regularly, or happened to have read relevant
Catch-Ups or ‘As I Recall went downstairs I
showered and went downstairs ’‘s, will already
know, there have been many nightmares grown
from seeds germinated under that company’s roof
- although after the last CAB intervention a
couple of weeks or so ago, we did think things had
been, kind of sorted. That was until Tuesday,
when we heard that there had apparently been
another change of mind.

Anthony came over at around one with all his
paperwork, which of course they had already seen
as most of it originated from them and had been
quoted back to them on numerous occasions over
the last 18 months at least, but was needed to
refer to hopefully one last time. But - before we
got into that, we had some fiddling around on the
computer to do, some music to look up (him), a
couple of tweets to send (me), before getting
down to the whole business of dealing with the
devil.

Did I tell you about the wonderful village
Butcher's shop about a mile or so from here? If I
didn't I should have and if I didn’t, I’m not to
sorry because it deserves all the praise it can get.
I went there about a month ago, having had a
meal with another friend I hadn't seen for quite
awhile in the pub within spitting distance of the
place. You know that’s just a saying? I never spit!
Anyway, when I was there I bought lots of home
marinated local meat which I then froze - ready
for some to be cooked on Thursday. Apart from all
the wonderful meats and jars of local products, do
you know how I knew that this was a real
traditional village Butcher's? As we were looking
at products on one of the shelves an elderly,
obviously local lady walked in and asked to buy
three free-range eggs. Having chatted with her,
asked about her family of whom they were
obviously familiar, they wrapped up her eggs with
no further comment and wished a good day.

With the food safely in the oven, there was
nothing for it but to make that call. It took 40
mins of being bounced around with only a fairly
satisfactory, possibly temporary, outcome. But the
food was good. No wonder I’m fat and neurotic.

 

 

Friday:

Having spent most of Thursday night and the
early hours of Friday morning clock-watching, I
was reluctant to move too quickly from my bed
when daylight eventually came. I laid there for 15,
maybe 20 minutes anxiously piecing together the
fragments of dreams I could recall. Everything
was about writing, but not these scribbles or my
other grown-up writing, nor any that I've done or
plan to do. It was a shambles, if not that it was
just nothingness. I don't even know how I knew
that, as all I remember is that the feeling of
emptiness left me with was overwhelming.

Having failed to make any sense of what little I
remembered, I showered, went downstairs and
switched the kettle on. We’d see how a set of
patchy dreams would hold up against a couple or
three strong coffees in the light of day. I tried as I
usually do on Fridays to get a jumpstart on the
following days ’As I Recall..’, but couldn't really
get into it, so I left it hoping that I would ‘do
better tomorrow’.

I did get out my ‘On Reflection’ hdd and hard copy
folder, to which I have added relatively little
lately, looked over them for as long as I could
bear without doing anything rash, and then put
them away again. My Dragon is sick – him or the
pc audio socket/system thingy that he mates
with: either way he has stopped working for me
and as I can only type with two fingers, can’t see
too well etc, everything becomes a bit pressured.
And then there are the dreams...

 

 

Saturday:

It’s Saturday and guess what I've been doing?
Writing? Yes you’re right! Okay, not all of you are
likely to have been. Some of you may well have
given snappy, clever or just wrong answers.
Normally and given more time, I would have
psychically zone in on you, responding to you
individually rather than as I am now forced to do,
as part of the masses. Masses? Of course in this
case you could well be a lone individual reading
this...
(in which case, all my effort has been for one person,
who probably sees it for the crock of  *”*” that it is!)

I think I need to quickly finish this and rest.
Please do come back again. As many an optimist
has said before, it can only get better...


Thank you for visiting theimpossibledream.
For more nonsense, please find links to previous wks
ramblings at the top of the page, under the logo
(possibly on the left, but it could be my left and not
yours).

Please come back soon - it gets very spooky here when
it's empty.

Michele Burnett x


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