Posting about not posting

Hello, dedicated readers. I say 'dedicated' because if you are reading this, I salute you for persevering with my less and less frequent postings. This blog was like a shiny bike I got for Christmas and now it gets left in the garage for weeks, behind a grass-spattered lawnmower and some surplus planks of laminate flooring.

I don't really know which way is up at the moment. I am still trying to implement aspects of Mickel Therapy into the management of my daily activity. I have not relapsed which is brilliant but I also hope to be able to make much larger gains - if this is at all possible. It is still so mystifying and challenging to talk about. I'll tell you in six months or a year. I might know more then.

I was thinking about it all in Asda recently and a shelf-stacker man shouted, 'don't look so worried.' Glad I was looking radiant then. Oh, now I feel slightly ashamed to admit I shop in Asda with it's eco-wrecking, multi-national greed. For the record, My Lord, the defendant was distracted, however her purchases did include Ecover products and organic bananas.

-C

Not in these parts

Does my bum look big in this, I'm asking the crew of this ship. (rhetorical question!). Stuart took the picture with his new camera. We were on a day trip to the Isle of Cumbrae. The ferry takes ten minutes and the island is about 2 miles square. There is only one town, called Millport, and we had lunch in a greasy spoon cafe called The Ritz. They had Madonna's Borderline on the jukebox but they shook their heads when I mentioned the words veggie burger.

-C

Hitting cars with grapes

Oh, okay then. I didn't last long in Time Out world, did I? I got a few nice emails from people asking what is your big secret? Are you emigrating? Getting married?! I have been cryptic without cause.

I find it hard to talk about my ongoing attempts at Mickel Therapy, a topic which is still mysterious, indeed baffling to me. To my surprise and pleasant bewilderment I saw some pockets of improvement in function, and I wanted to hover over them with my finger to my lips, saying ssshhh, incase I would break the spell. However the spell does break regularly and I am still not sure if I have anything that can be built upon. I still feel routinely wrecked and wrung out. Also part of the ethos of trying MT is to avoid lengthy ruminating over the process itself, in order to ease the permanently-furrowed-brow look. It's a beauty treatment, then. I must hush! I will keep trying and see what prevails.

So, here we are, business as usual: some doubt, some hope, much I don't know. I phoned Stuart yesterday and said, Hi, what are you doin? Trying to hit my car with a grape, he replied. Ah, The reassuring surrealness of life.

-C

PS Why can't I get space breaks in my posts? I need space breaks!

Time Out

I am hiding from my blog. I have things to tell you but I have to wait until I see how the things pan out. If I were to write my own horoscope it would say:

Capricorn - This month keep your cards close to your chest and don't count your chickens before they hatch. There are more questions than answers. These are interesting times for mountain goats with their hooves on the ground and their head in the stars.

...Or some such nonsense. Confused? Me too. Excuse me while I try a little Time Out from the old Blogosphere. In a good way.

-C

Hey, Tobacco-Loving Neighbours, just get Loving!

I live on the top floor of a three storey house and get on fine with all my neighbours. The couple beneath me are polite, public-schooly and good-looking: personable poshos! They used to smoke outside on the front steps, telling me they were trying to give up. But now my heart sinks when I smell the ghost of stale cigarette smoke wafting up from their flat below. I think they have given up giving up. What a drag...(ha). I can hardly ask them to stop smoking in their own home.

Also, when I got central heating installed, they kindly agreed that a gas pipe could be routed through their hallway and into my cupboard. I have tried to stuff an old cloth in the tiny space where the pipe comes through, but with increasing regularity, I open the clothes cupboard to the smell of stale tobacco.

Will they ever read this? Probably not. Maybe I'd be embarrassed if they did. They are amicable and friendly enough. I hope the wife gets pregnant soon. That would do it. If the baby cried in the middle of the night I could put in ear plugs. I just can't put in nose plugs.

-C

Islay photos

Who be they, blowin in the winds...

...of 80mph on Machir bay ?

Nice Man says my fringe looks a bit '7o's Linda MacCartney (Fiftie's boy tank top - he can talk..). The guy in the background is positively progressive with his muscle-sleeved '80's look.

-C