Life Traveller. Been Somewhere. Going Somewhere.

At the insistance of my daughter the elder, I got my GP to refer me to the hospital for a hearing test. I told my mother I was going. "There's nothing wrong with your hearing," she said, "I can hear you perfectly well." And she was right. Apart from a little loss of high-frequency sound, my hearing is fine, with absolutely no need for a hearing aid. I look too young for one, anyway. Their words, not mine. As though you have to be old to have one.

I really love being anonymous. It's like I'm invisible. Actually, I do sometimes feel invisible, but at those times I don't feel anonymous, just invisible. You know, like when you've been sitting at a table in a restaurant for ages and still haven't seen the menu, whilst next to you someone who arrived later is already eating? Slight exaggeration there of course, but you get the idea. Anyway, anonymous. I like it. Not that I need to be, since I'm not in the least bit famous, or even well-known. Not that I have ever done anything to be well-known for. How much fun it must be to be famous and be anonymous in a place such as blogland. I can't help wondering if anyone famous does actually have a blog like this, and I have actually read it. Highly unlikely, I imagine.
I sometimes wonder if I should cast off this cloak of anonimity and just write as myself. Would someone I know come up to me in the street and say, I like what I read in your blog the other day? Unlikely. Actually, it is quite tempting, but I do so like to be someone who isn't me. Well, I am me, of course, and everything I write about does happen to me, but maybe it's all written in a slightly different manner than if I wasn't anonymous. And sometimes I have written more about how I feel and what I have done than I would if I wasn't anonymous. The problem with this anonimity lark, is that I tend to be reticent when it comes to revealing myself where I really should. What is all that about? I think maybe there is some cause for concern here. I do sometimes fear I am getting very strange. But on the other hand, I once had a virtual stalker, and I'm really glad I didn't let him know who I was. I think I'll carry on in this vein a little longer. Or forever. Maybe.

Actually, if anyone has recognised me, I'd love to know. Only do email me. Don't blog it in a comment.

Time is picking up speed, which is why only a moment ago I was watching The Man Who Predicted 9/11, and deciding I wanted to write something about that, because somewhere along the line I've formed the impression that some of you are interested in my TV viewing.  What I wanted to say about this excellent program was that it portrayed Rick Rescorla who was, amazingly enough, responsible for saving the lives of 2,700 people when the Twin Towers were attacked.  That is about the same number of people as those who died.  It is truly amazing that one man could have done that, that one man was determined that should there be a fire in the building, people would not die.  Of course, he couldn't have imagined the full horror of what happened that day.  No one could, but through his foresight and insistance that regualar fire drills be carried out, he was able to save so many lives.  Sadly, he lost his own life saving those of others.  He wasn't the only hero, of course, but to me anyone who risks their life for the benefit of another, is a hero.

A statue has been erected in Rescorla's memory.  It was sculped and cast in bronze by Edward Hlavka.  I was interested enough in the piece to have a look at some more of Hlavka's work.  I eventually found the following website www.hlavka.com where there are many examples of some wonderful work.  I've decided that when I win the lottery (only a matter of time, you know - HA!) I'm going to get him to sculpt the whole of my family, and we're all going to be happy together in my garden.  So much more cool than a photo.

I've no idea what happens to time, but there definitely seems to be less of it. The older I get, the quicker it passes. Even though I have a lot less to do these days, it seems I never have enough time to do it. I've been adding more friends recently, which in view of the fact that I no longer have time to comment on the posts of existing friends, would seem to be rather foolish. I've invited and responded to invitations because I like reading the blogs, and want to be able to do so easily. When I started out here, I was determined that I wouldn't have more friends than I could easily cope with, that I would be able to always read and comment frequently. This is no longer possible. At one stage it got so that I was concentrating on my blogfriends and forgetting about myself, and to some extent, my 'real life' friends. So, from now on I may not necessarily be as close to my blogfriends as I have been in the past. I've decided that my priority here must be to write my own blog, then to read those of my friends, and then hopefully from time to time to comment. It's a compromise, but that's how things in life so often are. I may well miss the occassional important post and seemingly ignore its author, but I hope not to. Just give me a nudge if I do.

Today I did some gardening and got stung by some insect bent on evil. My middle finger is now very nearly twice as thick as usual, and my hand is very swollen and painful. And it itches, and then some, and this despite my having taken anti-histamines twice since the incident. And what have I had for my pains? Well, vegetable spagetti which we had for our dinner with pasta sauce; tomatoes; French beans; sorrell and the first cucumber I've ever grown. Everything tastes so delicious. You really can't buy it like that. Forgot to mention the apples - there's nothing like apples straight off the tree. You should try it, Juzzy.

It's a rather annoying to see that once someone has deleted their blog here, it is up for grabs, and apparently can and is taken over by strange businesses. I really don't think that is in the spirit of the blog community. Actually, during the six months or so that I've had this blog and been part of this community, I have seen it change from a place that was mainly used by intelligent people to one that is becoming overrun by these dodgy business blogs. Whereas once it was unadulterated pleasure to come here, it's becomming frustrating as more of these boring "business" blogs appear. I wish it would stop.

I'm not feeling in much of a writing mood tonight, but I don't want to fall into that place where I'm not posting again, so thought I'd make mention of a film I watched, and enjoyed, last week - Meet Joe Black.  I've seen very few films with Brad Pitt, but he certainly is impresive, and I'm not referring to his beautiful looks.  He's actually a very good actor.  But what I wanted to comment on is that the film is three hours long, which seems to be about twice the usual length for a film.  It's certainly twice as long as The Last of the Mohicans, which I read was edited down to ninety minutes because it would have been too long to be commercial otherwise.  Why?  If Meet Joe Black could be released as a three hour film, so could have The Last of the Mohicans, which I think really suffers from being too short. As far as I'm concerned, and since it is my favourite, it should be re-edited and re-released as a three hour film - if only on DVD. 

A combination of rigors and vomiting during Saturday has ensured that just about every muscle I possess is causing me pain. Actually it isn't essential that I laugh or cry, but try as I might I can't stop the occassional cough. Even a deep breath is most uncomfortable. Also I didn't realise that I turn over about a dozen times during the night - I couldn't move without the pain waking me up. At least I'm aware of how many muscles I've got in my body. Believe me, there are lots of them. And every single one hurts like hell.

I really must stop leaving my shopping in the middle of the kitchen floor.  I tend to forget it's there and then I trip up over it.  Not so long ago I turned a carton of eggs into the makings for an omelette and the other day I turned a bag of grapes into the beginnings of wine.  If I'm not careful I shall turn myself into an admission in the Casualty Department of the local hospital.

I’m whole, yet I’m broken.
I’m happy and unhappy.
I feel older, look younger.
I want what I don’t want.
And I know more than I understand.
I could be an oxymoron.

The only way that I was able to cope with the disaster that was 9/11 was to remember that for most families it was the loss of one person they loved, and as such their loss was no greater (or less) than that of anyone ele who loses someone they love. It was horrifying to the rest of us because it was on such a large scale, but I drew the strength to deal with it by thinking that for most people who were bereaved by it, it was the loss of one son, husband, daughter, mother, friend. Just because someone was one of 2,700 to die doesn't make their death any worse for their loved ones than if just one person dies.
I'm not sure if I'm managing to put this across as I want to. I am not dimishing the grief that was felt by familes and friends, but for the rest of us, it was more shock than anything. We can say we felt grief too, but how can one really feel grief for those one doesn't know? My distress was for the families coping with their shocking loss. And I coped, although even now when I think about it, something wells up in me, as it does in most of us. What I found much more difficult to cope with, was the tsunami of 2004. Here many people lost whole families, often watching as they were swept away. Children were torn from parents' arms, and much more, and it is this that I find I can't write about. For the majority who died on 9/11, it was a reasonably quick death; I doubt it was the same for most of the tsunami victims. I found that disaster completely heart-rending, not because of the scale of it, but because most people sufferred a far greater loss than those who had relatives and friends in the Twin Towers. I can imagine how they felt when a beloved partner or child didn't come home that day, but I can also imagine that they were able to somehow piece their lives together. How were the tsunami victims able to carry on with their loss when in many cases they lost their whole families - parents, siblings, parners, children, and their homes. I can't imagine it, and I can't help being overcome with grief for them - for those left living; not for those who died.

I'm watching "The Ageing Debate" on the Community Channel. There is rarely anything on that I'm interested in these days. The trouble is that I've seen it all before, or at least most of it, in one form or another. I'm multi-tasking too. Just watching the TV isn't enough. I have to be doing something else as well. For a time it was knitting, but I got fed up with that (half way through a sweater for my granddaughter), so now I'm messing about on my computer. My elder daughter has arranged for me to access the internet on my laptop, so I'm able to sit with it, quite appropriately, on my lap and waste lots of time.

I made my last post 'no comments' because I didn't want people to think I was posting whinging stuff just to get sympathy, or maybe even using it as a ploy to get into the top 20 (which I must add I've lost all interest in now). So what happens? I get quite a few very lovely emails (for which I thank you), during the two weeks since I last posted, from my friends here expressing concern and asking for me to post something. Well, I have been thinking about it, whilst trying to catch up on many friends' posts that I've missed, and at the same time trying not to comment on them, so that I would have time to post something of my own. However, now that has happened, my head is empty and there is very little to say. Of course, it is possible to spend much time saying nothing, and some here are very adept and amusing at this. I fear I cannot count myself one of their happy band - at least as far as amusing is concerned - I suppose I could waffle for a good half hour yet. I won't though - I will spare you (and possibly myself). Actually once started, this is quite liberating and has me wondering how long I could keep this up for. I'm not going to find out though. I'm finishing now.