It’s beginning to occur to me that I really ought to become more interesting for my upcoming 3,000th post. The trouble is that I’m actually becoming more boring. I can tell this because I keep repeating stories. Mostly I remember and delete them, but it’s happening more and more. Then there’s the general feeling, when trying to think, that I’m running through porridge. I just seem to go slower and slower as the resistance builds up. This is despite making serious efforts to improve my sleep patterns. It has got so bad that tonight I had to describe “the button on my torch that makes the light go on” to Julia. Then it occurred to me that the word was “torch”. With a memory like that it’s not a surprise that writing poetry is becoming more of a challenge. Fortunately, this sort of thing is the exception and I’m not ready to vegetate just yet.
Tonight I watched one of the kids from across the road on his way to football practice. To lace his boots up he raised his feet and put them on top of the garden fence (waist high!). I can’t even raise mine a quarter of that height. I was going to say that it’s only a few years ago that I could flex my back so far that I was able to stand on my fingers. All my fingers, not just the tips. However, now that I come to think about it, that was 20 years ago. A lot has changed since them.
These days I have to put my feet up on a step (just a low one, as they don’t lift so far, as previously mentioned) to allow me to reach. Some exercises are probably called for. Unfortunately my poor memory means I will write that today and won’t remember it until next week, when it vaguely drifts through my mind. I may have to start writing things down to remind myself.
Currently, the house is full of the smell of mushrooms. As soon as I finish here, it will be filled with the sound of fast-revving electrical machinery. Yes, it’s mushroom soup for tea again. Wednesday soup is becoming a habit. It’s a good, healthy habit, so I’m hoping it takes root. That way I don’t actually need to remember it, I just do it. In 20 years time the staff in the care home will probably be puzzled as to why I wander into the kitchen and pick up a hand blender every Wednesday . . .
We have cream tonight, which I bought for the bread pudding and quiche I didn’t make. Julia used it for making cream and strawberry scones yesterday and we will pour some on the fruit flan tonight, so I may put a drop in the soup too. After all, I wouldn’t want to get too healthy too soon. It was a bit of a luxury, as I can make quiche and bread pudding without cream, but I don’t want to cave in to the cost of living crisis and live like a pauper.
Home made Mushroom Soup with an olive roll and a scatter of pumpkin seeds and spring onion
You are not alone with the brain fog. I find nouns very difficult and have to describe the thing I’m talking about just as you do. It is extremely irritating.
Sounds very much like my er , , , my something . . . condition, that’s the word! 🙂 Yes, irritating and frustrating.
😀
Cream is esse tail for mushroom soup so I hope you had plenty left to add, although jam and scone definitely need cream too.
I don’t want to sound like someone sensible, but in my experience exercise is the be all and end all as you get a bit older. It should work even for a comparatively young chap like you.
So kind . . . I feel better already, even without the exercise. 🙂
The mushroom soup sounds good! In autumn, I look forward to Chanterelle season at market. I would love to get a patch started here, as well as some morels in spring.
Some of the fogginess can be due to medication side effects. Always worth looking them up and seeing if there is a work around. As for your writing, the poetry is beautiful, and I always learn a new thing or two, maybe more, here.
I tried growing my own mushrooms, but was unsuccessful. When we move I will try again.
I will look at the medication. Even if I can’t adjust it, it will be good to know if it is the cause.
That soup looks so good. As far as I’m concerned, food and cooking are never boring subjects. Love to read about what other people eat and cook. As for the decline of flexibility…amen! In the garden, it takes me a week to accomplish what I could once do in a day. But onward, ho and creepy knees be damned.
You are not alone with your reflections on the flexibility of youth. You may know I was once a lineout jumper in the days before we could be lifted.
Yes, it’s a wonder what we used to get up to when we were younger. I remember someone making a remark about the lineout and a desert island in something I was reading – all those tall waving palms. 🙂
A fine analogy 🙂
🙂
When I feel lazy I put two spoons of chicken stock, three potatoes and a handful of mushrooms in water and boil it for a while with coriander et al and it turns into a very pleasant soup. It’s getting quite cold here so soup is the go these days.
Excellent idea. I may have a try at that, though my attempts with potto often resemble wallpaper paste in the end. I am more of an enthusiastic eater rather than a skilled cook.