riverfiles

The eyes have it

Back in the Royal Eye Infirmary for annual check up with the Great Man. A year since last seen and forgotten how stingy the pupil dilating eye drops are. I sit in a very crowded waiting room, have one “visual acuity” test after the other then stumble out with fuzzy vision to sit amongst the yellow and white waiting room literature, “Smoking and Sight Loss”and”Visual hallucinations” and “Early macular degeneration” and, “Emotional impact of sight loss”I can hear a man sniffing into a hanky on my left. Look up and wonder if he is crying or just has a cold.? Dangrous place this. No doubt people are confronting the most terrible of awfuls behind the rows of Consultant’s doors. . Sight loss Today however I get off scot free. How lucky am I. Must be more appreciative. A cataract is forming in my unaffected eye but slowly and vision currently very goodListening to Mevyn Bragg’s In Our Time last week, I was struck by Dostoyevsky who apparently lived by the maxim, “Every day is a gift” Bragg’s guests explained he had been put up against a wall in a firing squad but was by some means spared. I hand a note (in yellow) to the Receptionist . I am discharged.Must be more like him. Dostoyevsky. Like today, I have had very close shave with my eyesight in last 12 months. But I have been spared, for now at least unlike so many others in this waiting roomMust be more positive.

Funeral for a friend…Again

Another chum has bitten the dust. How sad. “What larks eh Pip?” Was our catchphrase over many a glass of wine over so many years although recently we fell out hard and hecame estranged. She had a full page Obit in the Times. Now that’s something. Soon I will book my train ticket to her funeral. It is to be held in Southeast. (Any excuse). I am having my Stewart Parvin funeral suit let out by a shocking 4 inches. Oh dear. A substantial weight gain since I wore it to a funeral 2 years ago and it was loose.

Be careful what you wish for – and the big question to Leave or to Remain

The worm may have turned. Spent this morning wriggling into wellies, waterproof over trousers and horrible, smelly waxed coat while attempting to dig out and clear a huge sludge-filled trench behind the garage. Absolutely disgusting.

It was too much for me. Tried with big and medium spades but scarcely made inroads into the revolting, solidifying red mud.

Then the rain came down on me and then it progressed to hail when I was walking the dogs. The only redeeming feature of the walk was listening to Margaret Atwoods “Testaments” on talking books. Spellbinding even when being pelted with hailstones and worthy winner of Booker.

Most frightful, and surprising thought has occcurred as of last 10 days or so. Keep suppressing and swatting away but it buzzes up again. I may actually to want to defect. As in leave the River Loft and this County- the place I dreamed of moving to for so many years. Shhhh don’t tell anyone. Only you, reader can be made aware of this heresy. Could be temporary – a black dog point/ lowest ebb thing but despite every effort truth is I have failed to make real friends in the past 3 years and well. . when I drove into our street today and saw “for sale” on adjoining property I was frankly and most unexpectedly struck by a thunderbolt of envy. Lucky you escaping the revolting mud, muck and vermin and legging it back to civilisation,(viz the southeast ) I thought.

Never mind bring a bottle how about bring own revolver..,

Just arrived at a village hall, charity dinner so dreadfully unsophisticated that I sink into my hard, plastic, school chair, survey the sea of grey helmet hair, crimplene trousers, untrimmed eyebrows and anoraks seated under the harsh lighting and the thought surges in. Oh! come back South East of England… all is forgiven. This is the most appalling way to spend a Saturday night anyone could possibly imagine. I understand all for a good cause but…well. .. couldn’t we have just given them the money? The most gruesome part is the realisation that at my age, years of similarly dull events stretch ahead of me. Raffle ticket hell, amateur dramatics and endless bonhomie. It is the being held captive for 3 and a half hours I object to. My parents didn’t seem to mind it but then

there was no Netflix in those days.

The enemy within

An enemy is in the house . Wish me luck this weekend. Poisonous, tedious, repetitive and the greatest of all sins- LOUD – I have allowed the disagreeable person to slither past me into our drawing room and impinge on our Friday. Ugh! Early night accordingly. And so to bed. I am shattered. I have slunk away. Probably v rude of me but too old to pretend. Will think about this again, tomorrow. Meanwhile wireless headphones firmly clamped on so I don’t have to hear the dreaded voice booming around the house.