Dawn on another late-life day
Times are drear. I wanted to write about fun but couldn’t recall any. Only being flogged at school, falling off my bike at speed, and being turned down by Northern girls when I asked for a date.
● Not wearing underpants until my teens should have been funnier. But the detail seemed to sicken people in the USA. Fun should be fun for everyone.
● When I first stood up to speak in public my left leg fluttered uncontrollably. I wondered if the fluttering might reach the point where all support was lost and I toppled sideways. I’d written several jokes into my speech but none was visual. Toppling would be visual but should I improvise a comment?
“My next trick is impossible.”?
But my audience were already laughing (they were well liquored-up) and I forgot about my leg.
● I’m a lousy negotiator, especially when buying cars. I’ve always wanted to take things to the limit – after hours of banter – then walk away without a word. “That’ll teach him,” I’d say to myself, knowing nevertheless I was leaving behind the car of my dreams. An unexpected form of martyrdom.
● I hate concerts where people clap vigorously trying to squeeze out an encore. I envisage floating over to the podium and shouting out “But would you pay for more music?” Looking down on mystified, inevitably middle-class faces.
● VR has ordered me new PJs. More formal, thus enhancing my status as The Wandering Invalid. And less inclined to change into daytime clothes. I wear then opening the door to Amazon deliveries. Drivers don’t give a damn. I don’t give a damn. These are the undamned years.
Yes, fun is really hard to find. I read blogs and leave comments. There is some fun in that.
ReplyDeleterobin andrea: I could say I was getting a lot of fun out breathing. But only by comparing it with the alternatice.
DeleteFun is overrated. Rest and relaxation is better. I like the new PJ's(I'm assuming that's a picture of them). Nice colors. No need to give damn.
ReplyDeleteColette: The one doesn't preclude the other. As to the PJs, I was clearly expected to appreciate them which I do. They have not one pocket but two.
DeleteUff, do I need new PJ's! I completely wore out two of the three during the covi-era (the young ones have dubbed it thusly), and the third and last is in poor shape. Perhaps I'll look for a stripey-jumpered look for the new one. Thank you for the photographic prompt!
ReplyDeleteFun has been on my mind in that the new semester will officially begin tomorrow (Tuesday) and I have been surrounded today by somewhat dour colleagues. Yes, the indoor ventilation system in the building is kaputt, the Xerox is mostly kaputt much of the time, and the keypads on the office doors are kaputting (can I make up a new verb?) at an astonishing rate. The only remedy I know is a sense of humour (happily, I got the humour gene from my Opa Willi and Mamma). "Why are you always happy and smiling," came the question today at one point. "Ah, grasshopper," I replied, "even a half-smile relaxes the muscles of the face."
Ja, I have become that old lady in the building, self-assured, unmoved by the powers-that-be. I've also found that profound smiling behaviour keeps the trouble-makers on edge and off balance. Great fun indeed!
Zu Schwer: PJs can last me a decade. Of course, at this point they may lack certain functional attributes like a seat of the pants. Also the fabric may have worn to the consistency of a cloud of steam. I wear them only for decency's sake and on the assumption that nobody's looking at me from the back.
ReplyDeleteYour colleagues haven't thought things through. Smiling is not necessarily a sign of happiness. It may proclaim superiority over one's neighbours. And this seems to have happened
As they say in the land of Schiller and Goethe: Der Stärkere hat immer Recht.