FALSE DAWN

Yesterday
morning, bright sunshine greeted my emergence into day and, most
unusually I was feeling wide awake long before 9.00AM; the general
rule is that a state akin to wide awake is rarely [even
half-heartedly] achieved by yours truly before 10.45AM! I even felt
that my nights sleep had been of a refreshing variety, despite my
having run two marathons in one day before getting lost in the centre
of an unknown town, unable to find the loos. Dreams are certainly
peculiar things!

How
could I account for a good nights sleep, dream sequences
notwithstanding ; the only aid I could think of was having partaken
of an extra shot of macchiato at the Café Culture the preceding
afternoon. Now there’s a paradox!

Anyway,
whatever the reason, this unusually early alertness continued
throughout the morning, relatively pain and ache free [a most unusual
ante meridian experience]. By late morning I was ready for a walk
down to Waitrose with my beloved; the walk entails a 15 minute
stretch along the Leeds Road before taking the tree-lined footpath
across the stray, approx 7 minutes, and a further 5 minutes in the
direction of the town centre. That’s one helluva long exercise for me
but, I managed it and, even enjoyed the walk back home.

All
went well with the day until early evening, when an excruciating
sense of despairing helplessness overwhelmed me, the sheer
pointlessness of everything. The cause for that dramatic change; I’d
started wondering how the hell I could get the tax people to sort out
one of my pension providers who tax me on every penny even though,
all other incomes having been taken into account, I have a further £3
½ grand tax free allowance. I’ve never been averse to paying tax
but, having completed endless forms, both prior and subsequent to
attaining state pension age, no progress has been made on this front!
[The pettiness of the issue is that the monthly payment is a mere £62
gross and I’m having £13 take away in tax each month – but when
one feels shattered the whole issue takes on gargantuan proportions].

Even
my preparation of the main course for Sunday lunch – always
pre-prepared on Saturday evening – held no pleasure for me and,
subsequent telly-gawping proved absolutely disastrous. The Vile Twins
[that’s not their stage name by the way] getting through the first
stage of boot camp [we’re talking X Factor here] made me quite
apoplectic; if ever there was a case to be made for abortion, or even
euthanasia, these twin contestants are it. Before their miraculous
advance, I’d already declared that their advancement would sufficient
to prove that there is no god, no evolution either for that matter!

A
further cause of my general sense of irritating helplessness is the
constant petty bitching experienced on all of the ME sites run by
fellow ME sufferers; no wonder that no progress is being made.
Doubtless the condition is a physical neurological one, of possibly
viral origin, even though the vested interests of medical insurers
and pharmacological industries are more than happy to support the
psychologizers arguments.

Where
my fellow sufferers find the stamina to continue with their virulent
nit-picking squabbles is a mystery to me! I suspect that part of the
problem is, by its extremely debilitating nature, this neurological
ailment tends to breed a kind of re-active depression. Certainly, in
my case, the onset of ME also found (or produced) a far more
deep-rooted tetchiness than had been apparent as part my nature for
the preceding decades.

Basically,
I’m just a little pissed off and you, my dear readers, are the
outflows recipients. This morning, my naggingly aching body, had to
be forcibly removed from the duvet realm by a sheer effort of will.
It seems like I’m almost back to normal.

******************************

This post also appears on my ‘Sinna Luvva’ blog (when viewed in any browser other than Internet Explorer).


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