Take a plastic bed, hot wax and twinkly muzak.
Find a person to apply targetted pressure to the shoulders and upper back.
Result= exhaustion, relaxation and mobility.
Every month or so B kneads my shoulders and lifts the weight. I’m sure she doesn’t get too well paid for it. I value her work more than I do that of, say, George Osborne or Fred Goodwin. I value the work of health professionals and carers more than George Osborne does. (UK budget today)
Anyone got any ideas about how I can become a political power and have the world run the way I’d like it? Preferably without going to war again.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to walk the high wire, like an acrobat or the twin towers guy, or Helen Skelton? The appearance of freedom, the calm, the perfection of it all. The painful hours of learning and struggle all paying off in a few glorious moments.
I need to achieve a balance between energy and enthusiasm. There’s so much that I want to do, and I want to do it all now. When I was first unwell, all I wanted to do was lie on the sofa and that did balance with my energy levels. I’m hoping that my current issues mean I’m improving.
Maybe I should take to wandering around, holding a long pole across my chest- if I can’t figure out how to get through the door then it’s time to sit down and rest.
I used to miss a lot about full time work- the independence, the connections, the doing something useful, the gossip, the friendship. Turns out I now get some of those from volunteering and playing on the internet.
What I really don’t miss about work is the politics. The battling for position, the ‘my way or no way’, the begrudery and the sniping. Turns out I can get some of these by playing on the internet. I’d have expected some of it when volunteering, after all surely it’s not the payment; it’s the human condition…
- not me at work
Happily, I have been surprised. Maybe I’m an innocent or not fully ‘in the loop’. Turns out I’m happy about that.
I’m not as confident as I used to be. I don’t have the energy I’d like. I get aches and pains and mood swings, and I have cotton wool for brains. Are you sure you don’t want to give me a job?
Spurs Fan doesn’t understand my interest in blogs. He’s baffled by my interest in the opinions, lives and work of total strangers. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the blogs I read were produced by a robot in a dungeon somewhere. Until now.
Last night I attended the Irish Blog awards. I met bloggers, too many to list, but honourable mentions for Tinman, Grannymar and Kirstie. You’re real! I came home with a goodie bag, a WDF badge and a huge fake trophy. The company was great. The lateness of the night was excessive and I’ve been fit for nothing all day.
The family haven’t noticed the difference.