I was up early and hit my peak about ten minutes later. Since then, nothing much has happened. It would be nice to think that my day has been devoted to fermenting ideas, ready for an outpouring of creativity, but all that has happened is that I have built up enough creativity to write a blog post which starts “I was up early and hit my peak about ten minutes later.”
We have had fig rolls this afternoon, so at least I have one thing to identify the day with. Without this, it would merely be another disappointing grey day in our worryingly cold and miserable spring.
It has been a bad time for men who make a living by dressing as women. Paul O’Grady, also known as Lily Savage, died a couple of weeks ago, and Barry Humphries, the man behind Dame Edna Everage, died a couple of days ago. I’m always surprised when I read bout people after they die, as there is so much we don’t really know about people.It’s a strange facet of modern life – we are on first name terms with people and we see them in our homes, almost as if they are friends. But we don’t actually know them.
I’m told, from my reading of self-help books, that people have difficulty separating truth from fiction, which is why the death of a soap star (in the soap rather than in real life) can produce so much genuine grief over a fictional event.
That’s why they recommend visualising yourself as a success, because it will trick the brain into thinking you are a success with all the trappings of success.
It’s an interesting thought. Sitting here in a cold semi-detached house with a battered Volkswagen parked outside, it’s a little difficult to see that this says success. However, I must go now. My trophy wife has just called through from the front room to tell me to put the kettle on. She has obviously been unable to visualise a Butler.
I’m not sure that self help book (purchased from the Exchange and Mart in the days when it was still printed on paper) was entirely accurate. Though my £1.75 (plus P&P) probably did help the author to a better life.
The header picture is biscuits, but not fig rolls. It’s close enough.
It was neat to link Paul O’Grady and Barry `Humphries. My daughter Louisa was in Australia when a character (? Dirty Den) was blown up in East Enders. She got us to record the episode – the only one I’ve ever seen.
We used to watch soaps. I don’t know why. I managed o break the habit in the end and don’t regret it.
Some days I think it is mental fatigue in my case, and I definitely have to take slow days here and there to take stock of where I am and what is most important to get done next. There is an old saying that sometimes one has to slow down to go faster. It also doesn’t help that I am not as young and invincible as I once was. 🙂
I know that feeling. I am now going to develop a policy of going slower to move faster. It should, amongst other benefits, annoy Julia when I keep telling her to calm down
I like a fig roll a lot though getting the pips in my teeth makes me tend towards making date rolls these days. The same idea but smoother.
I had a spell a couple of years ago when the failure to make something useful of my life was rather haunting me, but since then, a good number of smarter and younger people than me have died so I feel that outliving them is at least some sort of success.
Date rolls sound good.
Yes, I am now seeing people younger and fitter than me in the obituary column. It is, as you say, some sort of success.
Recent events have also made me grateful that I’m not a solicitor. Being held up to ridicule on the blog of a fat, unsuccessful shop assistant must be so humiliating . . .
An excellent depiction of early peakingness.
I must try not to rush things next Sunday – tea and toast first. Work second.
I love a fig roll biscuit! I’m trying to visualise one but unfortunately I’m not very good at visualisation. My trophy husband has made a beef casserole for our evening meal and the aroma has made me very hungry. I’m sitting in the kitchen – the warmest room in the house with the oven on. 🙂