What's a demented to do?

Driving me nuts

Last week I drove with Dad to Ystradgynlais for a friend's funeral. It was the daughter of his violin teacher. We shared the driving as Dad is old but still drives well. I was very pleased with my driving although I was very tired by the end of it as it required a lot of concentrating, I'm not used to driving long distances, and I have FTD of course.

It was quite warm, but being in an air-conditioned car was blissful. I didn't go to the cremation itself but did go to the wake. Lots of people. I got stuck with 2 women who talked at length about how well their respective daughters were doing - a musician and a chemist I think. People always like to show off about their kids. Thing is, if you don't know them you don't care, unless they sound really, really interesting. You just nod politely feigning interest, or you might think it's your turn to talk about yours. 

I guess it's a child-off situation.

It was fine though - just an observation. People like to live vicariously through their child's achievements. I guess at best it's pride.

Reminds me of those Oxbridge types who within 10 minutes of meeting them drop "when I was at Balliol...."into the conversation. Quite an achievement to get to Oxbridge, until you meet some of the numbnuts who went there at the BBC in London.

And of course there are those who say Oxford when they mean the polytechnic, and are quite happy for you to think the grander option.

And for the record I don't give a toss where you went.

D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

So J and I are going to do this amicably. I'm obviously not going to go into details but we are still good friends. 

Everyone thinks I must be upset but I'm not. It just brings to an end an unhappy last few years of marriage. We've agreed terms too. 

Of course you start a marriage with the best of intentions - wanting the other person to feel fulfilled and as content as possible. I wanted J to feel fulfilled and when she left teaching and went back to being a management consultant it was like watching a dormant V8 roar into life. It was amazing. 

But we got married too soon.

I guess it's just 'get it done' now. 

I slept really well last night, so I'm thinking it must be the right thing.

So what of the future? I certainly don't want or crave another relationship. It's not fair on the other person to burden them with my illness, plus I don't think I can accommodate anyone with my current neurological issues, particularly my total tack of empathy and emotional numbness, the latter probably exacerbated by the Setraline. 

I've never been very good at relationships because I didn't particularly like myself for large parts of my adulthood, and you of course have to like yourself in order to like someone else. Or even love them.

But for now I'm quite content just being me on my lonesome.

I just had a chat with J. It's funny that the pressure seems to be off and now we seem much more vulnerable with each other. Which is nice.

(Insert daft comment)

'We do for cash'

I always remember that phrase in a heavily Greek accent from my time working in the office of a day spa in Kensington. 

Fact is I need some pocket money. Ideas:

1. Assembling flat-packed furniture for the Eloi
2. Mineral-based construction solutions (handyman who doesn't touch plumbing or electrics).
3. Er...

Any ideas please leave in the comments section.

Must get on with writing

I have to keep this blog going. You see I can waste days looking at YouTube - what has Donald Trump said now, ditto Marjory Taylor-Green (MTG), and the trashy Lauren Boebert getting thrown out of a Denver Theatre. Rugby League, Rugby Union, Mark Chopper Read, boxing, MMA...

Good just to listen to music and write. Perhaps this is the way forward.

Fat bollock

I am a fat bollock. I am. And it's all to do with beer - the only drug that tastes nice. Drinking way too much beer and every night. It's not good and I have the belly to prove it. It doesn't augur well for my 60s (should I get there, less some Soviet satellite fall on my head while gardening one day) so I should, nay MUST, cut down drastically. Just drink at pubs when in the company of others - not buy any and bring it home. 

I have a very indulgent personality...

I've suffered for my art - now it's your turn

The trouble with sofa-surfing

They say once your back goes it's never the same afterwards. Evolution has not completed its task in other words.

A few years ago I was working at a squillion-pound mansion in Wimbledonia and the muscles in my back became inflamed and I had to take a couple of weeks off work.

Staying at a friend's on his sofa on Sunday night then coming back and sleeping on a soft bed, the mattress of which is probably in need of replacement, and I had to roll out of the bed onto the floor this morning. I can feel knotted muscle under my shoulder-blades and need to stretch out and do some yoga poses. 

I'm feeling a bit dim today tbh. Even by my standards. Typing is rubbish. I guess I've had a tiring couple of days with travel, gaming and poor sleep. 

Oh poor me! Lol

But it's just that you get doubly tired with dementia. And you don't realise.

I was in my FTD group this morning and after an hour I rudely said I was bored. I didn't actually mean bored - but I was tired and couldn't concentrate. Listless would probably have been a better description, and less offensive to Gill who was telling us something important to her.

FTD strikes again.

My Dad's better than your Dad

Dad picked me up at the station on Monday. It's lovely. He's such a kind fellow.

We walked to the car and I was surprised as he had a courtesy car so we got into a sleek black Mercedes instead of the older silver model I was expecting.

We drove over to the Mercedes garage where his car was ready after being serviced. We walked in there, my 82 year old dad with brown socks, shoes, khaki shorts and a shirt tucked in, and me in shorts, shades, black trainers and a Buff on me 'ead.

I announced to the woman serving us - "We are the best dressed men in Somerset." 

I'm great, me.

A customer in her (this is relevant) 50s had been waiting longer than us and was rather unhappy. She interrupted the woman serving us to tell her how long she's been waiting. 

Dad said "She was a teenager when she arrived." 

So bloody rude but bloody funny. I guess that's where I get my faux pas from.

Air conditioning rocks by the way. (All transport over the past 36 hours.)

Living in Somerset is a good prescription

I'm living in Wells. It's pretty chilled. Some people have come back to live here and I need to make a diary appointment to have a coffee with them. 

I have a lovely D&D group of strangers who seem to have all gelled immediately. I should probably do the same with them.

But rather like dating - when is the right time to contact them? Should you wait for them to make the first play? Ostensibly, you want to position yourself somewhere between being a stalker and Jonny-no-mates. Not too creepy and not too aloof.

I guess just reach out as maybe everyone thinks like this?

Nevertheless, I am really relaxed.

I no longer enjoy shopping so I have things delivered. Like my Buffs from Germany, or flip-flops from The Netherlands. Hurrah for the 21st Century.

I like a Buff, me.

But it's too bloody hot. Feel sorry for the kids going back to school on the hottest week since June. Buffs and flip-flops are the way to go. And shorts. I can't wear anything else in this damned heat. And a t-shirt of course.

OF course.

Here I am modelling a Buff. And a t-shirt. And glasses.

You wanna get wiv this? You wanna get wiv this??

Sorry - I'm boring myself now.

Mark Hardyman is down today which is great, and we shall see Nerys and Tomos this evening.

I love you and goodbye.

Footnote:

The title of this post is a quote from the one and only Neil Innes.