Plan B Thursday.

The days and the months are racing by and though I feel their passing my arthritis has this habit of subsuming any notion of time turning day after day into a Groundhog Day kind of repetition. My daily task more often than not just trying to cope with the pain in my joints and get through from dawn til dusk as well as I can.

Now here in London ‘British Summer Time’ has just begun. I’ve always thought calling it that somewhat ridiculous as in March it’s usually wet, windy and cold, but this year there is sun streaming through the bay windows. The temperature outside is 23 degrees, darned warm for March.

I see clear blue skies and people out walking, in a constitutional kind of way, short sleeves revealing pale skins hungry for rays. Young women with mid-riffs open to the elements, I have a moment of jealousy and wish it were me out there, ( not showing off my belly ) – but walking – without my stick and the shuffling feet of an infirm old fart. But I can wish all I want, right now it just ain’t happening. 

Two weeks ago the specialist promised me steroids and a prescription has finally arrived, I took my first pills three days ago, since then around four hours after taking them I get stomach cramps & want to throw up, so I retreat to my room, close the blinds and my eyes and sleep it off and hope tomorrow will be better.

The lockdown in a way has suited me, I’ve not been up to gallivanting that’s for sure, so the mere fact that almost nothing has been open has been something of a saving grace, what was I missing out on? But slowly slowly like the change of season things are moving, people can go out, soon they will be in bars and restaurants, then travelling and where will I be? 

I’m very conscious of needing to do things but lacking the energy to do anything much at all. Today though I woke feeling a little better & with more energy. I made myself breakfast, sorted some laundry, unloaded & reloaded the dishwasher, unremarkable though this may sound to normal folks for me right now these were tremendous if only little empiric victories.

Convinced as I am of the necessity of doing stuff in a way I reckon it doesn’t matter what it is, so long as it’s just something, anything. The rationale being that any change is ok, that one thing done can lead to another and however hair-brained the idea it is fine. The nike school of philosophy, just do it. 

Now today after some activity and getting a few simple tasks done  I feel like I’m on a roll. Rather than another physical task I decide to add something a little more nebulous, a day of not swearing, I curse like a trooper it has to be said & lets be honest whilst there’s something deeply satisfying for me in launching forth with a tirade of four letter filth at the slightest opportunity maybe a day of not swearing might help move me along? Let’s see!

My cunning plan is to substitute the word gosh at any point I’m thinking of cursing, that’s not going to be hard is it…………………

By ten-thirty I’ve failed, my first conversation of the day with my son and I am compelled to utter a string of profanities,  several f***’s and a bolloc*s or two for good measure when describing something that a simple gosh would have sufficed for. Time for Plan B, but there is no plan B.

The Ex. Came round again recently to see my Son, she sat in the garden and thus I didn’t need to join in any conversations, on her way out of the house she paused and looked at me in my armchair. Then after a quizzical pause said you like Poseidon sitting there. I reflected on her words & replied that I was happy with that, it beats Papa Smurf I told her.

Who on earth called you that she said with a laugh.

You did last week I told her.

Oh…….. says she. 

So that’s the way it goes, my bones may be in a gosh awful state, but her memory is shot. Things have a way of balancing out it seems. 

 I do like the idea of channeling the Poseidon look, of looking like a Greek God – even an old hairy one would do me fine. But the thing is Poseidon was the God of the Oceans, that’s where I’d like to be, on a gosh-darned tropical beach. How do I get there? 

Plan B, options:-

  1. Find rich woman 
  2. Win Lottery
  3. Publish best selling book, sell movie rights ( Xavier Bardem lookalike to play me )

Thats three ways right there, you see life is full of options.

Well there we go, today hasn’t been so bad after all. And tomorrow is Good Friday it can only get better.

This is currently how I am looking, only eyes aren’t quite as staring and I don’t own a Trident.

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