Nine Feet Underground

A quiet day in prospect, both in the real world and here in this blog. Work keeps me busy all day and there's nothing of interest to say about it. Screens. Brain. Bum on chair. Getting up and moving about. Eye drops. All that paraphernalia. I had a chat with one of the carers, K, about MAFSAU, which she and her husband are also watching.  She's watched yesterday's with the experts (should that be in quotes?) and says there's much to enjoy. We exchange opinions on some of the couples. Similar thoughts. (I wonder how she persuaded them to fly in from Australia?) I did get a couple of wash loads done, though I don't think that is probably worth mentioning. Damn. I'm counting the hours until my ears are vacuumed.  Not quite sure if it's a special Dyson attachment or what.  Just as long as they don't suck my braincell out too. Although. I was about to start dinner when I discovered we only had enough for two and there are three of us. Drat. Decided to get a t...

It's been a hectic week with lots of things to organise and get done at work and in life, so I've been a bit quieter than usual. Today, alas, will be no exception! One thing I did want to record is the poem I've been reading this week.  It's by an English poet I've shamefacedly never heard of before, Charlotte Mew, who is apparently a noteworthy poet but not very well known, which seems in part to be because she's a woman. The poem below, 'Not For That City', is intriguing.  The words and rhythm seem to have some kind of magic about them: I'm not entirely sure I've grasped the meaning of it all.  The meaning seems just slightly out of reach when I read it, but I find it both arresting and mesmerising, so much so that I've ordered a book of her poems - I want to learn more! Not for that city of the level sun,      Its golden streets and glittering gates ablaze—      The shadeless, sleepless city of white days, White nights, or nights and days ...

7 a.m., first carer of the day is at the door, and I welcome her in with a cheery greeting, despite having only emerged from my bed 5 minutes or so ago.  As she prepares my wife's meds we chat and she reminds me Christmas is a week today.  This provokes a momentary shiver of panic, but then I remember that though I haven't finished all the shopping, I have plans, it should all come together.  Hopefully, by the end of Monday, I will have almost everything in place. After she leaves I go and get ready for the day. I'm planning to go to the shops to get the final presents for those carers I've not bought for, so far. Whilst getting ready I have a brainwave and decide to go as soon as possible, before breakfast, so I can get it out of the way and do so before it starts getting busy.  So that's what I do.  It's about 8:20 and I'm about to head to the shops.  I may be some time. I'm back, shopping done, and time for breakfast. Plans for the rest of the day? ...

Another album that won't make my top 10 - 'Free' by Iggy Pop. Not a bad album, probably better than we have any right to expect, and certainly way better than it could have been. Iggy says he's been re-invigorated by his sideline as a BBC Radio 6 Music DJ, specifically by the new bands he's heard and played. It shows. Good on him and, let's face it, it's great that he's still alive after the life he's lived. I'm not sure anyone would have predicted he'd have outlived his friend/mentor/producer, David Bowie. Life, eh? Twists and turns no one can predict. I've chosen 'Loves Missing' from the album - it can speak for itself.