One would honestly think writing this blog was a chore!  I seem to do everything I can to avoid sitting down at the computer and getting started whilst all my ideas, opinions – nay, words of wisdom – jostle about in my head like dodgems.  Perhaps that goes some way to explaining the resultant outpouring of thoughts seemingly devoid of order.  Note the word seemingly?  Or, maybe not.  For me, however, it all begins to make perfect sense as the ink comes alive on the paper and I find it so therapeutic; the chance to say exactly what one thinks about anything and everything with neither interruption nor comment.  The perceived acceptance of silence.  One thing, though, I can’t stand the word ‘blog’!  Ugly and uninspiring, I think I’d prefer to call it something else – a weekly comment on life?  Back to Trish-Trash, then.
‘The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.’    
Way Of The Peaceful Warrior: A Book That Changes Lives, Dan Millman.
Oft times attributed to Socrates, actually the nickname of a character in the above book and not he of the ancient variety.  Glad we cleared that up. 
Anyway, I have toyed with the idea of opening each of my ‘weekly comments’ with a quote, thus enabling immediate access to my direction or mood but … I abhor rigid confines serving only to restrict creativity so, instead, I shall stick with the element of surprise.  This week, however, the above quote struck a chord with me.  Tired of expending all my energy – for the last six years – on ‘fighting the old’, it is time to move on.  Finally free of the adversary, rendered invisible by trust, I can harness the strength and knowledge I have gleaned and use it for the benefit of good.  It’s like dispensing with pesticides in favour of the organic!  Ironically, my choice of ‘organic, handmade food’ (don’t ask me!) was an accusation once formally documented as a contributing factor in our unfolding, enormous debt … like a grain of sand in the Sahara!   So much material for my forthcoming book or, perhaps – as has been suggested – a one woman show at the Fringe?
Suffice to say, I seem to have spent the past week trying to lift the mood of those around me.  Somehow the balance seems to have disappeared from life and one cannot endure the lows without the highs, or at lease the promise of…  Even the inimitable Justin Currie (Del Amitri) voiced the very same in his ‘comment’ this week:
‘I’d stay out here on the road forever if I could, floating away from real life and its disasters and frustrations, those little claws that tug you down, the drudgery, the pointless routine, the suffocating sameness of each new day in your own hovel.’
Has he seen my future abode?  This numbness seems to be an epidemic.  Perhaps it’s a generational thing pertaining to those who grew up in a gentler time, after all, Justin Currie is almost as old as me?  Sadly, I have come across too many ‘lost’ souls to suggest otherwise and I think I am beginning to understand why.  This life has become so restrictive and regimented. Focus is all-important and a career plan is imperative once out of nappies – hence the need for potties complete with i-pad holders!  Technology has encouraged isolation whilst enabling anonymity – a fertile ground for bullying.  Work is all-consuming providing not only a much-craved identity but a raison d’etre.  Of course, material wealth is sought but at what cost?
Most go willingly, content to follow the norm but what of those for whom the palette is multi-hued?  For whom the prospect of being one of a crowd is nothing short of claustrophobic?  Those are the ones who have to dig deep and find the courage to follow their own path, whatever that may be. 
‘Living your own life can be bloody frightening and you will be lost half the time but, if I had told you that, you might not have set out in the first place and that would have been a terrible waste.’
Leaving Before The Rains Come, Alexandra Fuller.
Dare to be different!  Follow your heart, not your peers and, as Pop always used to say, ‘It will all fall into place.’  Thank God for the creative, the artistic, the literary geniuses – let’s face it, those of some character – who inject much-needed colour into this darkening world.  What happened to having fun?
On that note, I had friends round for dinner last Friday and awoke, the next morning, on top of my bed and fully clothed!  Obviously tired – and saving time – I discovered, however, that I had put all food in the fridge, stacked the dishwasher and turned off all lights.  Tidy to a fault.  The fact that I can’t remember releasing said friends is neither here nor there … just glad I wasn’t wearing my cowboy boots!
Once again, this ‘weekly comment’ has ventured entirely off-piste.  I suppose I did start off with a view to writing about positivity and the need to look forward but it quickly digressed to a grey world full of suits who have forgotten how to have fun!  Nothing new there, then.  In the words of my friend Tom, though – the correct ones – ‘It is a cynical world we live in; a cynical world.’  Plastered all over the news today are the shocking photographs of a gang of teenagers pelting a cowering, disabled woman with flour and eggs.  What kind of parents have produced monsters like that?  We used to play chap door run!  Cut to the idyll of elephants in the wild, or recall the depth of intelligence seen in the eyes of a mountain gorilla and reflect on the depraivity of man.  Shame on evolution.
My tally of readers continues to escalate boosted, of course, by the legal fraternity and, more recently, by my friend who happens to be Head of an English Department.  Slightly daunting, I welcome any feedback or constructive criticism.  I may choose to ignore it but, then, not only do I have a palette of many colours but I have also learned how to mix them!
Venturing outside into the blustering wind – bikini (sure!) underneath thermals in nod to erratic weather – I shall reflect, positively, on my future.  Packing up twenty-five years will not be easy but, then, I never really belonged here.  Thankfully, I have a pair of red shoes and I feel confident they will take me home … not a villavan in sight!
‘The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave.’
​Ronald Reagan
This is Trish, signing off