I already can’t remember how bad it was, I can’t remember the day-to-day details, but the headlines that drift into my consciousness tell me enough: duvet days turned into duvet months then duvet years; shoes collected dust and slippers wore … Continue reading
I keep thinking I’ll be well enough to write soon, but eighteen months has passed and soon has not arrived. When I was last here, I mentioned that bitch payback had showed up. Well, she had much bigger plans than … Continue reading
Well, that born again optimist was not to be trusted. As I was enjoying reconnecting with my good friends, hope and possibility, the bitch payback rudely showed up, and with her usual charm put an instant stop to the party. Apparently, my body needed some time to recover from its most recent black hole adventure. (Honestly, body, enough!) Much of the festive season was spent in bed, listening to meditations and dozing, whilst the sound of laughter and chatting drifted up the stairs. I dipped into the festivities as and when the energy allowed – to get fed if nothing else (and with two foodies in the house, getting fed was definitely worth the effort). I did my best to fix my face to Continue reading
Oh, how proud of myself I was: look at me, look at me, I’ve found acceptance, a place so elusive I was starting to doubt its existence, or wondered if it was simply by invite only, for the VIPs of life. But I made it! Me! And I allowed myself an extra serving of smugness for how well I was coping with everything, finding a way to be at peace with the situation, finding a way to hook-up with smiling and laughing each day. But… what’s that saying? Oh yes, pride comes before a big fat fall. Because life, being as hilarious as it is, greeted my newly declared smugness with a laugh so loud it echoed round the apartment, ‘oh yeah, you think you’re calm, relaxed and at peace with everything, let’s see what happens when…’
‘Who would want to?’ I would scream. Well, in my head. I never actually said that out loud. But inside my head, the conversation would continue: ‘who wants an old head, if it’s like that? I like my young head, thank you very much. An old head, with its ridiculous views, with all its ‘ists’: sexist, racist, fattist. What does this old head know?’
Yes, a bolshy teenager in her full, I can change the world, loud, and always right glory.
As I got older, I started to understand that my grandad was never going to change; his outrageous views were just part of him. And, instead of them annoying me, they started to amuse me. In fact, the more outrageous they were, the more amusing I found it. Continue reading