I’ve come to that certain age where I have to go through an alphabet of names before I can think of the correct one.
You know what I mean; when I want to mention dear daughter mine, I’m like this,
“Well, you know Donn-er – Kati- er- Philip –pause… Alison said!”
Or when I start to go upstairs to get something only having to come back down again as I have forgotten what it was I was going for. Or standing in the supermarket knowing exactly what it is I’m going to buy, only to walk up and down the aisles a few times until my short -term memory kicks in.
Oh, and not forgetting that safe place; you all know which one I mean, where you put things that you might need at a later date, somewhere safe, so you don’t lose it- well I’ve forgotten the number of times I don’t actually remember where this is any more.
Mind you, I think the funniest thing is that my lovely husband always said that he only married me for my memory!
Things aren’t looking too bright for me at the moment! LOL
With a slither
Of muted colours.
The top edge
Of a faded photograph.
At the peripheral
It’s a tantalising thread
Haunting in the haze.
A short breath away…
I’ll Never Forget What I Have Already Forgotten.
As they wheeled me down the long, sterile corridor of the Home, I whispered that I would never forget:
The warm sunshine shining on my face.
The sweet smell of the flowers in my garden.
The feel of soft raindrops gentle on my skin.
The iridescent colours of a rainbow.
The touch of my husband’s loving embrace.
The laughter of my daughter’s sense of fun.
The golden autumn leaves in all their glory.
The ice-cold snow that glitters with winter promise.
I’ll never forget…
The voice of the nurse interrupted my thoughts. “What was that you were saying?” she asked.
I stared at the nurse perplexed and whispered, “I’ve forgotten!”
It doesn’t matter where you go, there is a universal truth- road works are everywhere! We stopped at the Spanish town of Almeria and construction workers, near the port, were busy ripping up original, cobbled roadways and covering the surface left with ugly, black tarmac.
Such a shame!
Again, where ever you go in the world, where there are road works, there are construction workers. I don’t know if it is part of their training but they all seem to stop working at any given unfathomable time. As we walked alongside the construction site, these men were gathered together in small huddles contemplating goodness knows what! No actual work was being done, even though the section that they were supposed to be working on was a thoroughfare!
What an inconvenience!
We continued walking and saw the next activity, which can be seen everywhere. You know the one; where one man is working and three or four of his fellow workers stand and watch him!
A gentle reminder of home sweet home!
If you put two men and women at a café table having a drink and the waitress, as a courtesy, places a bowl of crisps on the table, who do you think eats the crisps?
You know, we women are our own worst enemies!
Is it just me or are airports getting bigger and longer? I know runways are expanding but the concourses are too! You can do your daily 10.000 step count just by travelling from the entrance to the gates!
It’s becoming quite an adventure having to navigate the different queues, which zig zag across the floor reminiscent of the long lines encountered in many a Florida theme park!
It’s also a hazardous place as well! You have to vigilant for rolling trolley wheels from small carry-on cabin sized suitcases being dragged behind oblivious passengers. There are hidden tiny ramps joining surface to surface. Slippery tiles coupled with unobservant crowds, intent on their own journey rather than what is going on around them can lead to bumps and spills.
What makes matters worse is that many of my fellow travellers like me have been up since 4 am and are already feeling the tiredness strain kick in as we wait for our 7am fight. Thanks goodness cafes are open for a stimulating coffee or a refreshing pot of tea! Don’t think about the prices- you’re going on holiday!
Then when you arrive at your destination airport, there is a similar walk through customs and passport control which have all the instructions in a foreign language (so inconvenient of them! LOL)
Sighs of relief can be heard when helpers arrive to steer you through the procedure. Once through there is the rush! You know the one I mean; ladies’ toilets where queues form pretty quickly. Blessed relief!
Now, onwards to the suitcase collection carousel, where, if you are unlucky, as we were on our recent holiday, you can wait for up to an hour for your cases to be delivered.
And what a palaver that can be. Everyone crowds round the carousel leaving no room for you to first grab your suitcase, let alone leave you enough room to swing it off the moving conveyor belt.
Once they have been captured, without rupturing your back muscles from the strain of heaving it off, and before the carousel whips it away, you are ready for your onward journey and away you trudge to the coach departures. By now you are becoming a bit grizzly and the new happiness of being on holiday begins to fade away.
A pointed finger from one of the overwhelmed reps shows you where you can find your coach but, quite honestly, it could be anywhere! So, like a lemming you follow the crowd and hope for the best. You manage to make the appropriate sounds of your hotel’s name and the coach driver, clearly harassed by the number of people congregating around his coach, signals you to board.
Now is the time for you to sigh, resigned to the fact that your hotel is the last drop off but hey never mind you’re on holiday!
When it comes to writing I’m a kind of feast or famine type of writer.
For months I’ve not written anything of note. A few ideas for stories, often badly formed, a verse or two of poetry and a couple of blog titles. Nothing definite and nothing developed.
I then go away on holiday, a two-week cruise visiting Spain and Portugal and suddenly something is unlocked, and creative juices begin to flow. To my delight I write every day. Nothing forced just a pleasant pastime.
So, I get back home, and daily demands kick in and my writing dries up and I stop again.
However, one day I flick through my holiday exercise books and I decide to copy some of the pieces onto my computer. No real thought behind this, just a mundane activity, with maybe a tweak here and there and then I suddenly realise that I have over twenty blogs, a daily diary of my holiday and a long fact/fiction account of a character observation (5000 words!) and I say to myself, “Hey I’m back in business!”
So, I’m posting my first blog today; first one for such a long time and we’ll see how long this feast lasts!