As ever - errors will disappear
once enough people quite justifiably
Up until quite recently I hated Sundays, all tied into childhood stuff,
but as of the last few years I have come to really appreciate the calm
the day brings, and with that calm the chance to enjoy Adult Pastimes
– like staying in bed in the morning or not getting dressed all day.
These joyous acts become easier on Sundays, for me at least, as
nobody ever comes to the house or expects me to go... anywhere.
So unlike on a weekday when of course as a grown-up I
could theoretically enjoy the same activities, but if I were caught
doing them I would be instantly regressed back into the awkward
apology of a child I too well remember being. So that was how I
spent the day, padding around in attire that would have even scared
me had I not trained myself well to lower my eyes when passing a
I was fairly happily, very conscientiously doing my grown up writing
when the postman knocked on my door. Now, I don’t know whether it
is the same everywhere, but here the few more regular Posties seem
to take a pride in thinking they know the people they deal with. I
expect it’s more so with people like me who tend always to be at
home ... and possibly have a few more parcels and packages arriving
than average homes, I don’t know. I do know that when I opened
the door on Monday, the Postman-of-the-day looked quizzically over
my shoulder to where the classical music was coming from before
looking back at me with a very amused grin. He either knew that
my choice of music either meant that I was properly writing and he
was commenting on its rarity or he thought my usual choice of
local channels suited me better, and he’d just in effect called
me common. I raised one eyebrow (I can be equally ambiguous)
and watched him chuckling as he walked back to his van. He thought
I was mad. He obviously doesn’t know me at all.
The Package: This was a pair of purple elbow crutches that I ordered
as a result of my recent trip to Brighton (Catch-Up 21.07), which until I
fully unpacked them filled me with joy. It took nearly an hour
of indelicate behaviour followed by two minutes of calm logic
to transform the child-sized aides into my-sized new toys.
If you will just allow me a moment to take a couple of deep
breaths before touching on what was by far the most stressful part of
the day. If you read these regularly or at least read Catch-Up 14.07,
you might remember my angst when a long-term MH sufferer received
a Gov. letter saying that all benefits would be stopped in less than
3 weeks, and that they were absolutely fine, (wrong), and all
this following a short, anon., medical assessment. Well, I was invited
to go along to the Citizens Advice Bureau to offer support as was
(more importantly) a snr worker from the MH team who will gather
the necessary evidence from the GP, Psychiatrist, etc., for the appeal.
I think the most shocking thing I learnt was just before we left. It
was told in a very gentle, non-gratuitous way, and of course it had to
be said: Apparently once the papers have reached their destination
and have been read, the person appealing will get a phone call
explaining at length the difficulty of the procedure they are proposing
to take and will finally be asked if they still want to go on with it. If
that isn’t institutional bullying, I don’t know what is. Sorry – I went
on again, didn’t I?
As two supermarkets conveniently grew up right next to the CAB, I
then decided to do some shopping... after which I hopped (hopped?)
into a taxi, again so handy as they sleep, you guessed – right
outside one of the shops!.
Although I shopped yesterday, in a manner simplified by the proximity
of the two shops to each other and the taxi to one of the shops, I
still decided to take up the offer of (as it happened) the
first supermarket I entered and, have my purchases delivered on
the following day as it was now well into the afternoon. Well, that
was the day before. (This week, I’ve tended to run backwards whenever
I stop thinking. I’ll have to watch that). On Wednesday when the
delivery van arrived it felt a bit like Christmas, or at least the run up
to it. You know how it is, in September say, when the first of your
soppy stocking fillers or too-good-to-miss presents for you aren't
sure who begin to arrive and your head explodes in your heart. But
of course it didn’t get that far. Which was good since the driver
was young and I would have hated to have frightened him. As soon as
I remembered ordering the food and whatever else was being ferried
to my front door it was just another normal day to me.
I could have sworn that on previous occasions the driver had offered
to carry everything in for me... could have been a change of policy
I suppose or just that he was running late, but no sooner had the
last bag landed on my step then he was back in his van. Which was
good – I was going to say that I could manage anyway.
A 14.20 precisely I unplugged my laptop and took it out onto my
garden and onto its table where I would work on the first four or
five days of last week. The battery was charged and if necessary I
would bring out an extension lead, but not before. Internet: I have
a hardwired network as I am a bit paranoid about wifi (hard for you
to believe, I’m sure) so I went upstairs into what is now a bit of a
junk room - as opposed to the others that are just messy – to look for
a very long ethernet cable that I knew I had somewhere. After
exhaustive searching of mini-crates that had been semi tidied
into positions that made searching painful, I regrouped and
rethought. The process was useful as it showed me that simpler
was better. I didn’t need the internet to use Word and that was how
I had managed more comfortably the week before. Lesson learned
and feeling positive I brushed a few leaves off a chair, spent a couple
of minutes fiddling with its arms and underside until it finally seemed
to be secure, then turned the computer on.
Not being a weathervane or even related to one I can’t tell you for
sure which way my back garden faces, but in the afternoon, as the time
I am referring to was, the sunshine beams down onto the second
two little tiers as you walk up from the house.Have you guessed
the problem already? Mother Nature had turned my little laptop into
a mirror, which in my case meant a doubly cruel blow.
Friday was fraught with confusion, conflicting and even moments
of shamefully unpatriotic thoughts. On Thursday (or was it
Wednesday?), I had clicked to ‘watch’ another pair of elbow
crutches, (unlike the others though, these should allow me to use
my hand freely – and they were blue to go with different clothes),
and they were due to ‘end’ soon. On Friday morning I checked when –
it was that evening so I made a mental note and got on with what I
Next to unsettle me was an announcement from the radio about
the evenings Olympic Games Opening Ceremony – it was, we were
told, to contain the very essence of or spirit, I can’t remember
which, maybe it was the soul of Britain – but whatever the phrasing
was, all I could see then and whenever my mind was drawn back to
the Olympic theme between yesterday morning and when I finally
fell asleep during the actual ceremony was ... hundreds upon hundreds
of clinking, clanging, ribbon waving Morris Dancers. Did I just say
that out loud? Oh, I am so sorry I said that!!!Can I take it all back?
I think was wonderfully different, original SPECTACULAR!
Mid evening, as is my usual routine I had shuffled from kitchen to
sitting room, from pc + radio to lap + TV, (such is my exercise
regimen),where I checked on the crutches, saw only the same
few watching and only a 15 minutes to go so placed a bid. I
have probably mentioned that my eyesight isn’t so good and to
be honest my laziness is even worse – so when I have got
myself comfortably snuggled into my chair, even the fading light
won’t get me to move. Whatever the reason, I realised too late
that I had put the decimal point in the wrong place I was
seemingly willing to pay 10X what I had decided upon. It made for
a very twitchy 14mins, but it turned out well in the end.
I am trying to write this quickly today, which is of course fatal.
Weather permitting I am going to a carbootsale with my son
in the morning so he will be staying over tonight – naturally I
to get this out of the way as soon as possible. Now I’m
writing in advance. I think I’ve been caught in a kind of
a time warp. Anyway, back to now – I’m just going to hurry
along as fast as I can and try not to trip myself up.
Do have a lovely week and thank you for dropping by.
MicheleBurnett (For previous wks Catch-Ups click on links below or under logo).