I spent yesterday mostly sat in a train. If I wasn’t on the train I was heaving suitcases and sploshing through the rain that teems down in Bristol at this time of year. I forgot my brolly. I wore blue suede shoes that acted as slow release sponges for the rest of the day and now sport rather unfetching tide marks.
I had a perfectly splendid day.
1. On the train I wrote uninterrupted for three guilt free hours.
2. I spent the whole day with the Textiliste and part of it with the Vet and FoV (No. 1) (Friend of Vet).
3. I spent time in a city I love, where I first fell in love and where I feel love is always in the air. Even when it’s absolutely hosing down.
So clouds and silver linings. Mostly silver linings shining through a slightly grubby kapok covering.
It’s how you see it, isn’t it? Perspective.
When I came back for my recent travels I found I have an inguinal hernia. Not life threatening, not even painful – at least not yet. But it will necessitate me having an operation and a general anaesthetic (apparently the keyhole procedure requires me to keep still, so a sedative and local won’t do – I think I’m quite pleased actually).
One in four men will acquire one of these dandy little bulges, like a cute little purse just inside the hip. This happens because we decided it was a neat idea to walk upright back in the day. If ever there was a case for showing the unintelligent design of evolution it’s the delivery method of the male testes and its subsequent tendency to let your stomach try and follow after. Too much information? Soz.
Anyway, I am now the proud (sic? sick?) possessor of another example of the fallibility of the human body as the years wither and condemn. And the silver lining? Well, it’s ripe for a good old giggle, isn’t it? Anything involving the testes is, after all. If you don’t believe me, here is the late great Robin Williams explaining why.
You see, my inner thirteen year old and those of my family and friends are not about to pass up a snigger fest. Which is healthy and good. After all who gets to wear a truss these days? It’s permitted lycra. Magic pants for the Homme D’un Certain Age. At least it isn’t some bland malfunction, like atrophying cartilages or arthritic fingers, which are noteworthy for being without note – just commonplace.
I’m lucky like that. Take my one chronic problem – proctalgia fugax – which manifests itself in a sharp uncomfortable pain that can wake me up with a start when it strikes in the night and thereafter continues with the sort of deep background throbbing that denies further sleep, at least until it eases off or some decent painkillers kick in. So what is this complaint? Well, to help me understand the specialist described it to me as a spasming anus. I ask you. It’s not an ailment it’s a bloody comedy routine. The muscles that once controlled the same scent glands that cause the canines of this world to plug into each other in their less than appealing version of the Summer of ’69 can spasm as a protective measure; well like anything that grips hard and won’t let go, especially if there’s nothing there to grip on, it can be bloody painful.
Perspective. I get to laugh at it, to laugh as I tell people why I feel a bit washed out. Why I can sit here, typing and wincing in a multi-layered sequence. There’s no cure, but equally nothing that will knock me off this mortal treadmill quicker than that planned by whatever bizarre and capricious deity who controls my destiny.
I suppose when Mum became pregnant with me her eggs were sunny side up because, whatever the world throws out, I believe there’s not a lot you can do about it except try and keep laughing. As my old gran might have malaprop’d: ‘Don’t let the paint dry under your feet, dears’.
The world can be grim; whether Nous Sommes Charlie or not, whether you believe in the rehabilitation of offenders or that convicted rapists should not be allowed back into high profile sport like Football, you can’t keep staring at your shoes but you have to look back up sometime; you have to seek some sun on your face and take in the horizon. There’s a reason why the smile is when the mouth turns up at the edges. There little points to the future. Look up, that’s where forward is. That’s where we are going and let’s make it as bright as we can.