Kylie had one this week; ‘Madge’, the previous so why shouldn’t I? To what am I referring? A countdown, of course! Kylie’s new single – courtesy of the obligatory nasal clip – and Madonna’s umpteenth supposed metamorphosis – complete with plastic surgery and a bucket load of hype! All part and parcel of the game called money. Drip-feed, build anticipation, play one’s audience with the promise of something amazing and there are plenty who will believe. Blind loyalty coupled with the inability to swim against the tide. Should I be counting on that?
For anyone still with me, let me clarify: all this gobbledygook refers to my website and its imminent launch. I use the term ‘imminent’ in the knowledge that I finally have my logo in place, my pages complete with text, my blog archives in situ – can you believe I’ve been doing this since 2015? – and, really, just tweaking to do by way of choosing what photographs to put where. Just one problem – well, several encompassing one big sticking point: namely, no affinity with technology whatsoever. I hate it! One could be forgiven, then, for asking the obvious question as to why I would even contemplate a website? I think the word which comes to mind is ‘delusion’. A love of writing and an ability to garner some readers courtesy of the simple weekly posting on a free domain obviously led to a misguided confidence which further led to my current position – Trish-Trash.com in the starting gate without a jockey! No, that’s pathetic. An intelligent woman – albeit ‘in her fifties with no skills’ (on paper, for legal purposes only, of course!) and an overwhelming talent for digression – is perfectly capable of following links, addressing log-ins, setting up various accounts and, finally, mastering the use of wordpress? In whose dreams?
Suffice to say, Manny has returned from the land of Aus just in time and the countdown has well and truly begun. Business account in place awaiting correlation with Stripe, it is exciting to see how far I have come and the organic way in which Trish-Trash has developed. A huge fan of my new website, it really is an embodiment of me and an amazing platform on which to build my ideas, my readers and, ultimately, my business. Who would ever have thought? Returning to the subject of countdown, though, brings me to the elephant in the room … the fact that one’s weekly dose of Trish-Trash will be subscription-based and accessible by members only. There, I’ve said it. Goodbye reader! Gosh, I hope not. There will be a month’s free subscription for all followed, subsequently, by a charge of … Look, fair warning allowing the opportunity to digest and save. After all, surely my weekly take on life subject to everything (bar libel!) is worthy of £1/week? No? Well, otherwise unemployable, when you pass me on George Street wrapped in my old Anta blanket – over my equally ancient Brora jumper – with my empty bottle of Cervaro, feel the guilt! That £1/week could have made all the difference …
Enough. I have a pile of notes to adhere to before my doctor’s appointment at 4pm. Consigned to the realms of history, in most cases, I am suitably amazed to have been granted an audience with God knows who apropos my ankle injury of six weeks ago, now, when I fell over the wall whilst trying to get Manny’s attention as he drove off in his car! (That’ll teach me.) Turned away from Minor Injuries on Sunday when I was told they couldn’t see me because the injury was over two weeks old, I phoned to make an appointment at my local surgery … before Christmas! 17th May was the first available. Note to self: join BUPA!
Thankfully, it would seem that it is always my left side upon which I inflict random injury and thus I now have a gammy ankle and pinkie to add to my gammy thumb. Searching for humour in the prohibitive nature of my circumstance I am drawing a blank. Suffice to say, a chauffeur and a butler would come in very handy and I shan’t be climbing Everest in a hurry.
Neither will I be volunteering for the Channel 4 programme, SAS:Who Dares Wins. I have been watching the celebrity version which finishes this coming Sunday and it is brutal! The twelve participants were whisked off to the wilds of Chile and put through feats of endurance which would challenge Hugh Jackman! (Well, I was trying to think of somebody physically equipped for said feats and, actually, he has the necessary attributes … ) Of course, it is a test of one’s physical fitness and ability but it’s the psychological ringer one is put through which seems the more torturous. Subjected to incessant shouting, swearing and criticism, the tactics are tantamount to bullying as the four former SAS guys endeavour to break each and every one of them in a bid to reveal their strengths and weaknesses. Gripping stuff, it is truly revealing in terms of character and watching the latest episode last night (recorded), I had to wipe away the tears as I was proved so wrong about the GB Rugby and Olympian, Heather Fisher. Butch with an apparent shaved head, I thought she appeared aggressive and judged her on appearance. Big mistake! Last night, those remaining were ordered to get themselves out of a ravine and race downhill to the base of the mountain following a harrowing test of courage and strength in crossing said ravine hanging from a rope ladder of sorts. It was stressed that this was to be an individual race but one contestant, Camilla Thurlow, was clearly struggling so Heather stopped to wait for her and offer support. How many people would do that nowadays in this egocentric world? Severely reprimanded for her natural act of altruism as she had blatantly disregarded an order, her retort was, ‘I believe in being true to yourself’ – also the explanation she gave for not wearing a wig to conceal her alopecia!
One of the good guys, Heather Fisher has already won in my book unlike ‘Mr Nice Guy’, Jeff Brazier. Famous as the former partner of Jade Goody and father of her two sons, he is continually praised for raising the two boys following her death but does his image belie the real him? Obviously! When paired with Camilla for a challenge of endurance over snow-covered terrain – a race – she was forced to stop when the snow grip came off one of her boots. Unable to re-attach it herself, Jeff kept right on going, leaving her behind without a qualm as though a trivial encumbrance. Team player! His explanation? He was so focused … Yes, on himself!
Another Bank Holiday weekend, it was attempting to snow earlier! Soon be Christmas, though, let’s face it. Venturing out for a family meal tomorrow, I wonder whether we will encounter Nick for the umpteenth time? Seemingly stalked by a taxi driver, we need merely open the door and he requires no further instruction. Always on hand, he is from Zimbabwe giving us plenty to chat about as he delivers us safely home. On first name terms, I have my very own chauffeur after all. By jove, I think life’s about to get good!
‘We can’t choose to varnish the dark, but we can choose to kindle the light.’
The Choice, Edith Eger.
This is Trish, signing off.
