The Biscuit Question

Well, I've done it again, pulled into myself and stopped writing.  I could cite a number of reasons but I suppose the truth is I've run headlong into another relationship.  It was just a few weeks after the Professor sent his letter ending our time together.  The headlong dash was the sort of behaviour I had deplored in others in the past, but then if I've learnt anything from the years since the Absent Father departed, it's never to say 'never'.

Getting my Mojo back

It is odd isn't it?  All the time I was in my 'happy' relationship I found I couldn't write very much.  I haven't quite worked out why I found myself empty.  Part of my identity, post-marriage, has been bound up with my ability to express myself, so what was I doing, suddenly frozen?  It's terribly easy to be wise after the event, after the relationship went wrong, so suddenly and so unexpectedly.

Dear John

You know all those things you wish you'd said to his face? When you've been dumped via a stock letter that was something of a shock.  And you know you'll  never get the reaction you want.

This is my blog, after all, and this is what I said.  Quite what his reaction was, I'll never know.  Sad feeling really.

On Cloud Nine

‘Welcome to Tesco Credit Card, this is John speaking how can I help you?’

‘The people who are cremating my horse today need paying upfront and they said my credit card payment has been declined, could you tell me if there is anything wrong with my account please?’

Thus my big, brave day continued.  To John’s credit he was quick, professional and kind, not missing a beat to deal with this unusual request.  I get the feeling the call centre training pack probably hasn’t got a section for customers with dying horses, but we found out the problem: the cremation people put in the wrong CVV number.  So it wasn’t my fault, which oddly, was a great relief.

Singular becomes Plural

Well, this is a turn up for the books.  Or perhaps I should say 'be careful what you wish for'.   I have wished for respite from the seemingly unending suffering time and time again.  Why the reprieve now?  As my students, not readers of this blog I should imagine, would say, post hoc analysis is inadequate.  It would be convenient, as life seems to be going my way for a change, to attribute my actions and good fortune to some plan we all know really happens.  But does it?  Have I done my time in Heart Break Hotel, or even just thinking such thoughts, has the Man with The Big Book got me on a list to knock me down to size when he's a bit bored again.

Turkish Delight

I’ve been told that you can wish yourself into a situation, and I’m not sure to what extent this is true.  My sensible, logical brain, which is largely offline as I sit by the pool at the Hotel Era, Ovacek, Turkey, tells me that children with cancer have not deserved what they get, the responsibility for your fortune, good or ill, is not yours to determine.  My psychotherapist and I argue about this one at regular intervals as he tries to tease out of me what my part has been in my own destiny.  A prevalent thought of mine has been that I have been a victim of others’ bad behaviour, but he is quietly and irritatingly persistent I had a role to play.

truth or lies?

I'm not going off the bridge any time soon, it would be much too theatrical, I feel. But it would be nice to know there was some point to all this struggle; for it to be worth such restraint.