Every action seems to have its cost, albeit far from
predictable. Recent weekends away proved most beneficial in their demonstration
that, after several years when such a venture was beyond even the least
consideration, I really was improving in the health stakes.
Although something like two-thirds of my time away was spent
resting, more from necessity than choice, on each occasion the return home
found me running on adrenalin, as I set to necessary tasks in house and garden.
Recent bright days drew me into the garden once more, just a bit of light
pottering about, but it didn’t take long to realize that my “pacing” had gone
There’s something gnawingly frustrating about that sensation,
when the usual aches and pains, merge into an all encompassing blanket of
exhaustion; a kind of leaden hollowness, underpinned by spasmodically searing
twinges, somehow blanks out the least residual remnant of ones power of concentration.
Suddenly, in the midst of typing this reason for the paucity
of recent blog postings, I’m transfixed by the liquid alto trilling of a
blackbird on the garden shed; that simple call eradicates any risk of drifting
into self-pity. Quite frequently I feel that there is no need to venture any
further than the boundaries of our garden. Sitting on the bench beside the
pond, watching the goldfish devour the foodsticks, whilst on the neighbouring
rockery the peacock butterflies, and honey bees, are drawn to the heathers, a
sense of contentment floods my being. Contentedly fatigued, that phrase just
about captures the present state of play.
What I was going to say, before this gentle interruption,
was that recent days have found me unable to concentrate sufficiently to check
my e-mail boxes and, my normally regular swift surfing of news websites has
been honoured more in the breach than by its observance. A blank ‘Word’ page proves
far too daunting, the prospect of painting it in words too challenging a task,
but I will be back!
In life and love and friendship, I feel truly blessed.
This posting also appears on ‘Sinna Luvva’ and ‘Hirsute Antiquity’