Monthly Archives: February 2009

I’m taking the weekend off to get some fresh air and R&R about the joint generally. They say the weather is due to turn nasty again in the middle of next week and I want to stock up on stimulation before being shut in again.

See ya sometime Monday.

Each day now my medicine walk gets a little longer.  It took me a while to master the upward slope at the end of the road where it joins the Cilfrew ‘Main’ Road.  I don’t mind huffing and puffing a little when I’m out.  It is after all supposed to be a cardiac workout.  Having to stop, clutching chest like a feeble old man is not my style, though.

Today, having taken the upward slope and stood for a moment at the junction as I have done on each excursion for the past couple of weeks before turning back, I stepped over the kerb, across the road, and into the entrance to the track up to the heavily forested hill.  My ultimate target is the top of that hill, known as Graig Gladwys or something very close.  May be I’ll make it by the start of next winter, going a few steps further each time.

Today my progress was arrested by the gate across the road, closed at 16:00 in the winter, so I’m told.  I could have ducked under it but that seemed unnecessary, pushing the point too far.  Besides, it’s silly for me to walk where I cannot be rescued by car.  Next time I shall go out an hour earlier.

And that was it for my day, really.  I looked up at the dark forest on the hill above me, anticipating adventures to come.  Not a bad way to finish a walk, turn round, and plod homeward, not weary, not bowed, just fizzing a little with beneficial exercise.

* * * * *

This morning I posted a small additional entry, based on a ‘meme’.  I’ve been meaning all day to look up ‘meme’ but haven’t quite managed it.  I’m sure it’s valid or at least as valid as a referential enthymeme.

Gary over at Potter’s Blog came up with an original meme.  I don’t generally do memes, and I certainly do not respond to or hand out ‘tags’, but this one looked fun, and turned out to be just that. Just remember that it was 1944 for me…

1)  What was your favorite snack when you were 5?

There wasn’t much in the way of snacks back then–there was a war on. I’d beg steal or borrow any kind of fruit, though.

What is it now?

Fruit, with a rare pig-out on sweet biscuits (cookies).

2)  What was your favourite cartoon when you were 5?

Mickey Mouse, with Donald Duck running a close second.

What do you like to watch now?

Current fav. is “Ladies of Letters” (view it and weep) but I have a passion for Stargate SG-1, too.

3) What did you like to do after school when you were five?

Go out and play with my mates. We didn’t wander far, though, for fear of a daylight bombing run.

How about in your free time now?

I still like to go out and play with my mates. I don’t wander far, though, for fear of a knee collapse.

4) What scared you most when you were 5?

Being alone. A lot of bad things went on back then but a kid of 5 was safe when there were people around.

What scares you most now?

Poverty. Been there, done that, and worked my rocks off all my life to be free of it in my old age. Seems these days that other people have other views about the security of pension savings.

5) What do you remember most clearly from when you were 5?

Going to school for the first time, clutching a large book and protesting that I could read already.

How about in the last year?

Moving house. Never again.

We ventured, not without some temerity, into the glass-fronted world of the super executives today, visiting the local Planning Office in its splendid new building at the Baglan Energy Park.

On the way, true to form, we got lost and ended up in a rather depressing housing area called Sand-something-or-other.  Graham was distraught;  the weather was grim, bleak and damp, and he felt out of place and out of time.

“Can we just forget the whole thing and go home?” he asked.

“We could, but we’re not going to.  Phone the guy, tell him where we are and that we’re lost.  He’ll know the way.  He’s a planning officer.”

Sure enough, we pulled into the entrance to the car park a few minutes later, gave the magic password to the intercom on the barrier which dutifully lifted to admit us, and I slipped the little silver Ford into a vacant disabled parking slot right near the front door, and in we went.

Our business was soon concluded and off we went, back to more familiar ground, and to B&Q for an electrical switch and Morrison’s for orange juice, two danish pastries and a supply of Loyd Grossman’s best spaghetti.

“Can we go home now?” Graham ventured.

“I’m sure there’s something else we needed.”

“Oh, go on.  I’ll make you the best espresso you’ve ever had if we can go home now. Go well with espresso, would these pastries.”

He had his way, of course.

Is that coffee I can smell?

The local peacocks came to call this morning.  Us residents were much alarrumed:

I think it's a cat, dear