Well, hello August! What can I say? Time flies when one’s having fun! Fun? Gosh, I can almost remember that. Seriously, though, where have the months gone? As the Back to School adverts commence here, in Scotland, the holidays are barely getting started down south. A much better calendar. Growing up, our school broke up for the summer in July and didn’t return until mid-September – bliss! Weeks of freedom – and fun. Another world.
What to write about? I am almost stumped or, more accurately, numbed. It has been two years since I went anywhere and I have learned how vital variety is for one’s wellbeing. Same old, same old is just so draining. Enforced over the past year and a half, one has to dig deep to stimulate and, thankfully, while always an avid reader, it has actually been writing which has been my saviour. The opportunity to put one’s thoughts on paper – or onscreen, even – is nothing if not therapeutic. Like chatting to a friend who just listens rather than answering back. I suppose it’s the silence of writing, too. All one can hear is one’s own mind; one’s brain ticking over as one chooses one’s words and formulates a structure. I know, it’s very subtle in my case but, I assure you, my approach is nothing if not considered!
Sometimes, though, deprived of normal life as we know it, it is difficult to draw inspiration. Thank goodness, then, for my new-found love of football! There we were, sitting outside at The Jigger on Saturday evening – sipping our orange juices – blessed with, arguably, one of the most iconic views in the world: looking up the 18th towards the R&A and Hamilton Grand. That famous scene, as ever, a constant in a changing world. I had warned Alice not only that I, now, have to pay people to spend time in my company but, also, that I was liable just to sit, staring into the distance, repeating the same thing: ‘This is my favourite view in the whole wide world!’. You. see, take me to the right place and I am an easy date – and never boring!
I digress, of course. Yes, we spent a lovely evening at The Jigger but the nights are fairly drawing in and, a pronounced nip in the air, we retired inside – where the television was on just above us. Some football game … Hearts against Celtic. Hearts! Now, who would have guessed it but our new friend could not possibly be playing? He was in a boot and crutches when we met him two weeks ago … Ah, but never under-estimate the miracle that is John Souttar! There he was, haring up and down the pitch, Souttar and the number 4 on his back. How we laughed! Like a scene from Little Britain, gone were the crutches, gone was the boot … Yes, we had come to the match late and there were only a few minutes remaining but, with the score levelled at 1:1 – and with our eyes firmly fixed on No. 4 – suddenly, the crowd went wild. Hearts had scored a goal. John Souttar had scored a goal! Effortlessly headed into the net. Jumping up and down, Alice shared in our joy as we told anyone who would listen that he was our friend! The simple things. Strange co-incidences, too. I mean, the whole thing seems orchestrated: our meeting up, in the first place, no idea who he was and, then – two weeks later – to happen, by chance, to witness his triumphant return and his goal! Why? Someone up there just bringing a little much-needed joy into our lives or is there more to it? Just seems like a lot of co-incidences to me …
Can I just say – referring back to my ‘love’ of computers – for some reason, my laptop is intent on putting a full-stop after virtually every word! No idea why, I am incorporating it into my typing style as I, regularly, hit the erase key mid-stream. A co-ordination thing, perhaps it will prove helpful in my drumming? Without a drum kit – for now – I have been practising on my pad, mastering my paradiddles, among other things, and increasing the tempo bit by bit. Bloody hell, it takes concentration! I have, also, discovered that, not only is my left hand/arm much stiffer than my right, but the importance of the basics – how to hold the sticks correctly. As in riding, there is a correct way to hold the reins and never underestimate the importance of getting the length of one’s stirrups right! It’s taking the time, in the beginning, which ensures the reaping of rewards. Fast is a shortcut to nowhere.
Anyone watching the latest series of Who Wants to be a Millionaire?? Jeremy is on top form and I’m delighted to say that my ‘guesses’ have been spot on. (I notice, too, there is even a small step available, now, so that one can actually climb onto the chair with ease!) All positive. Next step, I just need to apply. Let’s face it, I couldn’t embarrass myself any more than one of the contestants, last Sunday, who had to phone a friend on the first question; one of the easy ones that are so boring! I suppose, though, one either knows the answer or one doesn’t. Simple as that. Sadly, I can’t even remember what it was he was stuck on. As for my general knowledge … I surprise myself sometimes! We are, after all, little more than human sponges and it is amazing to discover the information which seeps in unawares. As for my guesses, I always have a gut feeling and nine times out of ten, of late, it has been right. Just have to sort out my phone-a-friends – no easy task – and, then, ascertain what, exactly, I am going to tell Jeremy that I do? The truth? Make him laugh, that’s the key – preferably, with me, though, as opposed to at me … Oh, forgot to say, one thing I promise not to do is go through every option explaining, in infinite detail, its reason for living, before waking Jeremy up to give him my final answer! As I have mentioned before, I am acutely aware that I must earn my chosen epitaph: At least, she was never boring!
Yes, over one thousand words of absolute drivel. Like free-wheeling down a hill or driving in neutral – ah, welcome to my vocabulary! Not one of my favourite words, I concede … I do, now, admit that I have a gin in my hand but that is not my excuse for anything prior! Stir crazy. That’s my reason for this blurb. Confined for almost two years, I have finally lost the plot. Who could blame me? If only I could paint then, perhaps, my efforts, borne of angst, may – one day – be worth a small fortune; a house, even! Becca, recently passing through London, went to see the Vincent Van Gogh exhibition which, innovatively, saw his famous works projected onto the walls; all-encompassing with flashes of his quotes. She was completely enamoured – despite the distraction of today’s parents bringing the inevitable undisciplined offspring. Too young to leave them at home with Peppa Pig? Of course. All should suffer for their art …
The catalogue she brought back is superb, each page, chronologically, depicting his paintings accompanied by their story; his story, depicted on canvas. The quotes are beautiful. I was ignorant of his words. How embarrassing is that? No more. Inspired, for me, his paintings have been given life. My eyes may appreciate but it is words which touch my soul. Vincent Van Gogh is a tragic figure; yet another genius deserving of more. To learn about him is the kind of stimulation I crave …
As I finish reading my leaden biography of Jane Austen – I know, it’s been months – I crave a tome more entertaining. Admittedly, said book has served its purpose, educating me as to the life of an admired author, but her life was dull! The wit, therefore, inherent in her novels, all the more to be lauded. The biography I am reading, however – and have been for months – would put CALM out of business! I’ve started, so I will finish. Why? There is a voice inside my head which insists that I must finish every book I start, regardless. Another bane of my life!
In the words of Trace Adkins, the American country singer who appeared in the 2008 American celebrity version of The Apprentice:
‘That afternoon I spent with the Backstreet Boys is time I can never get back!’
I hear you Trace Adkins. I hear you! Life is short. Spend the time one has with those worthy …
This is Trish, signing off.
