Tag Archives: fallibility of memory

Several More Things . . .

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I had meant this to be a post about things I missed out of the last post. That was, itself, started to say something I’d missed out of the one before.

Optimism of a Moorhen building a nest

Thoughts can be like that. You start a new one before the old one is finished and as you finish one you forget what it was you meant to write about.

I could continue this line of thought, but if I do, I will undoubtedly start to muse on the decline of my mental capabilities, and from thoughts of low intellect, I will pass on to discussing politicians.

I don’t want to do either of those things. I may, at some point in the future, touch on the matter of Zohran Mamdani, Mayor of New York, and his announcement that he was going to ask King Charles for the return of the Koh-i-Noor diamond to India. At the moment I will just give him 10/10 for political grandstanding and ask if his enthusiasm for returning things to their “owners” extends to handing New York back to the British.

Mallards

Meanwhile, back in the world of poetry, I forgot to mention, regarding editors, that some of them really don’t like poets. I’d noticed this way back and then let it pass from my mind. There are one or two in Japanese-style poetry who seem a bit snippy but I got round that by ignoring them and sending my poetry elsewhere. Now I start looking at free verse again, am noticing them more and more. They seem commoner in this sector. I will just have to see what happens.

Meanwhile, my copy of Ribbons, the journal of the Tanka Society of American arrived by email.  They turned down my last tanka prose submission so I have mixed feelings about this edition, though I do have two tanka in.  Xenia Tran also has two in. I don’t see her about so much on here these days but she can be found here.

Mallard duckling – Arnot Hill Park

Of course, there is a reason for me mentioning Ribbons. They  run a Reader’s Choice Award each issue and it seems that I got an Honorable Mention for one of my poems in the last issue. There is one winner and three poems are given Honorable mentions, so it’s nice to be one. It might be nicer to be a winner, but on the other hand if you win, you have to choose the next winner and write a commentary.

This month will also see the new issue of Eucalypt and I was one of the winners in the last issue. I’ve already mentioned this, I know, and I’m not doing it to show off, just to mention that I’m going to have to choose a winner (big responsibility) and write a commentary (big danger of looking like an idiot). Not sure I’m looking forward to it . . .

Yellow Flag Irises

 

 

I Remembered!

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Julia takes Christmas more seriously than I do

I remembered what I couldn’t remember yesterday. I had a text in the morning telling me that they surgery had cancelled my blood test at short notice. This was annoying fo  number of reasons, including that I am already a week late after working Wednesday last week. My appointment had been for 8.20 (which wouldn’t have been my first choice to be honest) and they had no more appointments that day. So, feeling pessimistic, I rang the surgery to reschedule. I was number four in the queue, then three then two, then one . . .

Whoever was in front of me took ages. They must have been asking something very complicated. I stayed at Number One in the queue . . .

. . . and waited . . .

. . . and tried to keep cheerful whilst waiting, and as the tinny music played . . .

. . . and got through.

I was cheerful and polite and came away with an appointment for 11.40 this morning. It seemed they did have another appointment today after all, and at a much more convenient time.

Christmas in a Tin? See above.

As a result, I was able to stay in bed until 9.00 (clutching the new tartan duvet around my ears) and have bacon sandwich before pottering off, yielding blood at the second attempt and returning home.

I hve thoroughly enjoyed my day so far. It’s  little cold, and the screen was still iced up at 11.20 but  apart from that all is good.

I’ve also found my methotrexate tablets. I’ve missed a week and that really makes a difference in winter, but I found some when looking through my bag. At first I thought they were the ones I knew I had lost, but they aren’t, because the box is different. These are not the ones I know I have lost, these must be the ones that puzzled me a few months ago when I ran out unexpectedly. I must have taken them away with me when we went to Norfolk.

A Quercus Christmas

I am going to have to introduce a memory support system where I  use one big box for tablets, keep a diary and, as Derrick suggested, photograph stuff to remind me.

This, in answer to a question I asked earlier in the week, is when I admit I am getting old.

Imperfection is the essence of a handmade Christmas. I refer, of course, to the wreath rather than Julia, who.like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect in every way. I pointed out that she looks very young in this photo. She pointed out that since this picture was taken she has had to put up with me for another eight years.

I Spoke Too Soon

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Do you remember yesterday and me saying “Meanwhile, I have a sore spot on the arm which had the flu vaccine and no reaction on the shingles arm. Sometimes I really am disappointed in the lack of drama that attends all this vaccination.” ?

Well you can cancel that. About two hours after I wrote it the shingles arm started to ache. It still does. So does my shoulder. It’s rather annoying, particularly as I thought I’d got away with it. Such, as they say, is life. And in two months I can do it all again.

By then I will have forgotten all about the reaction. I’ve just been reding random posts that WP keeps suggesting for me, and I find that I did have a rection to one of my Covid boosters. I’d forgotten all about it and honestly didn’t think I’d had a reaction anyone.

Julia has gone to Norwich for a few days to see Number One Son. She has primed me for all eventualities and seems to have forgotten that I lived on my own for 12 years before I got married. I married her because I fell in love at first sight, not because I needed someone to organise my life.

In fact there is a distressing tendency for my life to become less organised when she gets involved. I’m a dull plodder who believes in minimal effort and the benefits of repetition. Take tonight, I’m going to have fish fingers, potato wedges and mushy peas.

Tomorrow, as I will still have half a pack of fish fingers left, I will be having fish fingers, potato wedges and mushy peas. It’s simple, it’s delicious and it’s cheap. And it allows me to cut and paste. However, Julia would never allow me to eat the same thing twice. She wants different food each day. I’ve never understood why.

I will end this by saying that although I am missing her, I’m also looking forwards to a couple of nights of running my life like I want – repetitive nursey food, reduced personal hygiene (I really don’t see why I need a clean shirt every day, for instance), and watching Decline and Fall (she wasn’t keen).

L-R: No 2 Son, Julia, Number 1 Son. You could probably have worked that out if I’d just have pointed out Number 2 Son. By deduction the other one must be Number 1 and the midget in the middle must be Julia.