Ramblin' on my Mind

Forget the cohesive bon mot; these are my idle ramblings as I seem to have lost the power of cogent thought.

I read other people's writing and my confidence in my own abilities disappears faster than a summer dream.

I've changed my playlist and deliberately haven't thought about content - just picked what felt "right" at the moment. Music seems to be the only way that I can channel my emotions so I've immersed myself in that for the time being.

The Coroner has said that the results won't be ready until Thursday at the earliest so the hiatus continues. No financial resolution, no funeral, no closure. It's getting to me now.

Decided to visit the undertaker today. It was fittingly depressing weather. The lady's name was Betty Graves, which I found somewhat amusing.

See, I can't even string a proper sentence together.

Found some old photo albums today which showed that when I was 18 I was having a bad hair year. It's strange how the memories come flooding back: These days I have to phone from the supermarket as I've forgotten what I'm there for.

I'll take refuge in my rhyme-y stuff, it's easier.

Wake up, it’s time to rise and shine, to face another day.

To motivate my spirit, to work and rest and play.

It’s time to use my hairdryer, electric toothbrush too.

Labour-saving’s such a boon when there’s so much to do.

I’m glad I haven’t got a job, where would I find the hours?

To work to keep the bosses rich, within their ivory towers.

Oh no, my day’s so busy, each task and role assigned.

I’m working ‘til I’m dizzy. Just emptying my mind!

Why do I feel a strange, red mist rising when I see that little shite on the Glade Touch 'n Fresh commercial going on about "it's all gone, it's all gone"?

I wish there were postal strikes more often - I'm getting loads of post at the moment including 2 deliveries yesterday. Perhaps I have struck lucky and the blackleg (can I say that?) sorting office workers and postmen are all just making sure I get the vicarious excitement of seeing the envelopes on the mat? I even got a free pen from Saga today whilst offering me the exciting prospect of staying at a Hilton hotel approximately 20 minutes drive away at a specially discounted rate for old farts.

Oh the joys of growing older. What else is there to look forward to?
taking a trolley to the "quick service" aisle in supermarketsfree TV licensestalking about the good old daysthe triumph of getting your socks on in one attempthaving the right to walk across busy roads because you're waving a walking sticksaying "eh?" interminablychoosing which tartan the shopping trolley's going to bebed sorestelling people your agerealising you actually like WerthersGosh, the therapy of writing is working. Please ignore the self-pitying earlier but I'm going to keep it in as this is my diary. Just think yourselves lucky you can't see the unpublished entries!

© BertieBassett (TransGlobal) Inc