Living alone

 

I wouldn’t have liked to be Robinson Crusoe.  I like my own company but I’d prefer to share it with a freezer full of wonderful food, a comfortable chair and a sanctuary of a bed.  Truth to tell, I think solitude is luxurious!

Alone is a neutral word, neither happy nor sad, but loneliness is horrid.  I like solitude, alone-ness freely chosen and embraced.  Many days I see no-one, but I have up to two regular phone calls so I am not totally alone.

I talk to myself quite a lot because I get the best answers from myself.  I don’t want to argue with anyone and when I am alone there is little danger of that.  I can do what I want when I want: I had two lovely snoozes yesterday and spent a couple of happy hours listening to Radio 4 podcasts whilst I crocheted. 

My diet is, to put it bluntly, idiosyncratic.  All I fancied for breakfast was a toasted cheese and chutney sandwich and I enjoyed it so much I had the same again for lunch.  And both went down well with a P G Wodehouse short story (audiobook).

I live in a state of chaos.  Honestly.  I’m very untidy and the cleaner’s main function is to spur me on to make the place moderately tidy.  She comes once a fortnight so I can still have twelve days of chaos between visits.

If anyone phones to say they’re on the way I have a well-rehearsed dash-and-stash routine but it may take me a while to find the bed before I retire.  That’s OK: I enjoy visits from friends: happy to see them come and happy to see them go. 

Anybody else like their own company best?

Did you just call me Twinkle?

 It used to be the custom for our local newspaper to include an article about anyone celebrating their hundredth birthday.  But no centenarian ever said anything: according to the reporters they always "chuckled" it.

The last time I went to our local chemist's with a prescription the assistant persisted in calling me Twinkle.  Eventually I called her Petal which caused amusement among the other older people in the shop but the assistant was none too pleased.

According to The Guardian yesterday, this is "benevolent ageism".  The speaker means well but is unwittingly patronising when s/he uses "elderspeak".  

It's not always easy.    In some places calling a stranger Love is elderspeak but around here you can be Love at any age.  Disability also brings verbal discrimination and people with disabilities often find themselves being treated like children.

There is no malice intended and usually the speaker is trying to be kind and show him/herself willing to help and "make allowances".

But I still don't like it.  How about you?

Down the Rabbit Hole

 

Long time readers of this blog will know that I love going to Brigg.  It's about nine miles from home and it's fully pedestrianised so once I have parked my car I can wander where I like on my trundle truck.

Thee are quite a few shops belonging to national chains like Tesco, B & M, and Boots but there are also independent shops.  

Here's my butchers shop.  Brigg still has four independent butchers which I find amazing.  Newells sells local meat as well as cakes baked locally and a few vegetables.  

Just along the road is Brian's Hardware which sells everything to do with hardware, DIY and gardening!  I even bought my mobility scooter there and they maintain it for me.  

Across the road is Jaylaur's Sewing Studio.  It's been extended quite a bit since this photo was taken but it's as elastic as the Tardis!  They sell fabric and haberdashery, run courses and are happy to give advice.

But it's The Rabbit Hole which is the most fascinating.  Wouldn't you want to go into a shop with a name like that?  It's the local independent bookshop.

Like most High Streets, Brigg is struggling but I for one appreciate the quality of the goods, the expertise freely offered and the sheer quirkiness of our independent shops.

And there are far more like this in Brigg.  

Do you aestivate?

 

I did, last weekend.  Everything was just too much so I aestivated with just about everyone else.  It felt like the only thing to do.  Aestivation is essential for quite a few invertebrates but this vertebrate favours the idea too.

Aestivation is the summer equivalent of hibernation.  It's an adaptation for survival in high temperatures or drought conditions to stop desiccation (drying out) of the animal.  I just use the word for getting through a heatwave!

There are lots of wonderful words associated with summer.  It's the time of frondesence when leaves and plants are in full bloom.  It's a season to long for zephyrs, those lovely breezes.  (Am I showing my age too much when I say that zephyr makes me think of cars?)

I think I might be aestivating again by the end of this week