I finally came clean to a very longstanding and dear friend and admitted that I was playing in the blogosphere. Some of her comments horrified me.
'The one about MS is very very special. As is the one about getting stuck on the toilet – among other things. It sounds like YOU – and that’s how all the ones I’ve liked best sound. There are others that are well written and have plenty of content but where you sound like A Very Nice Lady with a Dear Supportive and Kind Partner. A very nice lady who would wear muted colours and probably have her hair done regularly… As you might guess, they don’t speak to me in the slightest... It’s your own distinctive, black-humoured (and dribbling) voice that I love. Long may it reign. '
This is not the way I saw my posts but ....Truth is hugely important to me so I thought it was time to amend any misapprehensions that are lurking about. Like everyone else I am a complex mix.
Although I am a caring person I am not 'a nice lady'. Indeed not being a member of the peerage I object to the term lady. I am regularly bad tempered. Far too often ballistic with rage. What makes me angry? Injustice, inequity, dishonesty, prejudice, cruelty (particularly to animals but not excluding humans), pretentiousness. Jazz swinging from my butt purring loudly. My body's refusal to do what I tell it. Losing words and forgetfulness. The isms - think racism, sexism etc. My ongoing feelings of inadequacy. And the list goes on, but that is a start. Some of the things that make me angry have positive outcomes. I contribute to selected charities so that I can feel that I am helping to work on things that make me angry. When I can I ignore my body. And the gaps in my mind. Forgetting things means I can re-read and rediscover things of joy. And sometimes being angry is a waste of energy I just don't have. Which, regretfully, doesn't stop me.
Most of the things that make me angry/sad are concepts rather than things I guess. On the other hand I am made happy by small things (small things/small mind?). The people I love. Dawn. Autumnal colours. The cats in all their moods. Winning against the challenges my body sets me. Watching the birds. Fresh produce from the garden. Flowers ditto. Wine. Chocolate. Discovering/rediscovering authors who can educate, amuse or transport me. Art in its multiplicity of guises ditto. And this list goes on too.
I revel in my black sense of humour and view it as a life saver.
I love my partner dearly - we have now been together for over thirty years but in some ways he is best described as a selfink. And I am sure he has equally opprobrious ways of describing me but we won't go there. This is my blog.
Whilst in the workforce Maggie Shepherd clothes in all their glorious and LOUD colour clashings were my outfits of choice. I have a deep and abiding passion for earrings and some of my favourites are shaped like cat's bums.
These days I dress for comfort in trousers and t shirts. Worn to death and beyond. Shoes rarely, but if they are necessary, flat.
I loathe and detest hairdressers and go (several weeks after I should) only to get my hair cut. I have a game which I call the hairdresser game where I make up family scenarios if I feel their questions are too probing. And never remember what scenario I have used - but that is another issue. My hair is curly or very curly depending on the weather. I had chemotherapy towards the end of last year and only lost my grey hairs - something which continues to amuse me. I don't own a blow dryer - my style is 'wash and wear'. Possibly wild and woolly is the right description. I look like my mama (though my nose is less parrot like) so I don't do photos. The critic who was the impetus for this post tells me that I look down my more abbreviated nose like a disapproving camel when inspired.
I read 'good books' and agreeable trash with equal pleasure, often concurrently. At the moment I am reading the Faber Book of Diaries and Dawn of the Dreadfuls (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies). Both have charm.
My middle and eldest brothers have the family pomposity gene.
I don't think I dribble. Yet.