... even temporarily, is that now there's probably nobody aware that I'm writing posts again. I don't mind this one bit. There are many occasions in the house when I talk to myself, so this just feels like the written equivalent.
Charles is on his way to Birmingham, having changed his working days for the next couple of weeks when we thought we might be moving. We've spent the last few days cancelling the removals company, the cleaners and all the tradespeople we had booked for next week. We were so foolish and certainly feel it now.
And yet, looking out of the kitchen window, out across the garden towards the Simonside hills, bathed in sunlight, I have to say there can't be many better places to wake up in a morning. And if we need to find a bright side to look on, maybe that is it.
LILY & ROSE
Here are some photos of Lily & Rose. There are a few from the first time we saw them when they were just 4 weeks old. They would fit on your hand at this age and didn't look much like westies!
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I still read it. I've read all of it. Like Robert Redford in '3 Days of the Condor', I read everything.
ReplyDeleteFor what it's worth I saw nothing that post which could have caused any offence. I read it as a perfectly natural, subdued response to crappy news. Feelings which I can readily identify with. I bought a house 2 years ago and sold it in December. It was one of the most unpleasant experiences in my life. And I've had a few.
Suffices to say my reaction would have been, were, in fact, far less restrained and full of expletives. It's my way. As I wrote in my first ever blog post 'odi profanum vulgus'. I still do. There is no hope for Humankind. I have no faith in it.
Speaking of which.
I had to delete my original blog because it had strayed far from its original intention and some of my 'profane'rants upset a lot of people and even elicited a couple death threats and unwarranted accusations (one from an ex-colleague who didn't realise it was me)
So I had to reinvent myself and replace some of the writing that the blog was originally intended for.
I still hate people generally, but I won't let on so much in future. Downside is that only a couple of people read it now, due to the tags I guess.
I used to crave an audience but not any more; it's really no good me sharing my extended, personal stuff on Twitter or Facebook because no one cares about me. I don't mean that in a self-piteous way, because, similarly, I don't care about anyone else either. I me mine. We are all the same. All motives are governed by self interest. I've believed that since 1977, and I've seen nothing to change my mind since.
Doesn't exactly endear me to folk (including my family) but I don't care about that either, it's what I believe. And I often think about it, and apply it to various situations I see, hear and read.
I write, simply to keep the black dog on a short leash and as a record of how I felt about things that happened to me at certain times in my life, just for my family. I've got a lot of hatred and hurt inside of me still and that makes my blog very different from yours, although no less valid.
I'm writing lyrics again and other twee things which may help me try and make sense of who I was and what I became. Because nobody seems to know. And that's a good thing too.
I despise Facebook and treat it with the utter contempt. And I wouldn't belong to any club that would have me as a member. Despite what people think, all I do is read for hours and hours each day, rarely crossing the threshold, just trying to make the best of the cards I've been dealt.
It's a very poor hand unfortunately so it's a good job I can bluff like a demon and pull a poker face at will.