Merry Covid-mas from The New Recluse

Regular readers may have spotted something: I have become a recluse, and for Christmas, a Covid-y recluse.

I finally caught Covid after 3 years. It was flu-like, despite 4 jabs, and I'm getting through it. 

More generally though - I'm not afraid to say it - I'm now an extrovert turned introvert. Shocker, I know. 

I think it's my new strategy to try and cope with life. A voice on the radio today, described watching the news as, 'An exercise in fighting daily despair.' Yes. I'm there. 

I feel I have a duty to keep myself informed, yet watching the news is the opposite of hope. 

Ages ago, I wrote a jokey post about feeling like a criminal when I had to throw plastic in the bin. Today, I'm still in slow-shock about world pollution- microplastics course through our blood stream -and no one is stopping it. 

Even the cosy, log fires of Christmas are a danger to health, throwing out 750 times more particulate pollutant than an HGV lorry. 

Burning wood, huh? No one is keeping the earth below 1.5 degrees of warming. 'The scientists are trying (desperately) and the climate-deniers don't believe there is a problem. Mind-blowing.

The film, Don't Look Up said it all. I do recommend watching.

I try to do what I can, signing petitions, writing to politicians, buying less or buying 'greener.' Buying 'greener'? Just the one oxymoron please!

Maybe I can find ways to be more of an eco-helper in 2023.

My number one priority and vocation is still caring for the kids. There's always something they need help with: ribbons sewn on a dance costume or a deal on a second-hand iPhone. Doh!

Float Forward Willingly. 

That's a mantra from the late great Dr Claire Weekes. She made it her life's work to try and help others with stress and distress. I say it to myself when I have to.

 Rudolf and me can help you with any floating?

This Christmas, I have a few dear friends and relatives with health struggles. I'm thinking of them, willing strength and healing. A less-polluted world would go a long way.

So, that's my apologist blog post, until next time. If you're looking for me, I'm still here. I'm just a bit camouflaged, hiding in the trees, not knowing what to say. Of course, I'm looking up, even if it hurts my neck. Float forward willingly, if you can folks. 

And if you need more - here's a poem I wish I'd written. It's called Good Bones by Maggie Smith.  

The Dog Who Was Scared of Bicycles

 

When I walk Sita in the mornings, we meet other dogs with their owners. I bent to stroke a greyhound and noticed it was trembling fiercely. 

Aw, what's wrong? I asked the owner.

The dog was scanning the horizon in the wild-grass field that is Dawsholm City Park.

Ach, he's looking out for bicycles, she replied.

There were no bicycles in sight, but the poor dog was shaking with sheer vigilance. 

Apparently, a few years ago, it was slightly injured by a bike. As time passed, the dog started looking out for bikes everywhere. 

I haven't posted in ages, because on many days, I feel like that dog.

The world can be sudden and random. I've weaned myself off Twitter. There are are too many 'bicycles' behind parked cars. I think it's better for me.

I'm concentrating on looking after the kids, really being there for all their needs: a low-carbon activity that's greatly under-valued in society. Especially when their Dad is on tour. 

The horrors of Ukraine keep coming. I've donated to charity; it feels like all we can do right now. It's still so shocking. 

My writing has stalled. Occasionaly, I re-read it and think it's no good. I let it sit. But that's okay too? There's no compulsion to write. There's no higher moral ground from writing. It's okay to just 'be'. It's taken me 4 months to do a blog post!

I also miss the sea. Did I mention that? One day, I think I'd like to live by the sea again. When I'm asleep, I have mixed-up dreams about trying to buy a house by the sea. It's too expensive, it has weird, Alice-in-Wonderland rooms, it's above a book shop, but the shop is closed. In my dream,  I cried when I saw the view: it was my childhood view of Islay. 

                                                    Photo - Ronnie Campbell

Anyway, my fellow dreamers, it's time to get the dog out for a walk. 

'Love, Life, Prosecco!' as my girl, Tess, says in irony. The Prosecco of Spring sunshine is fizzing over Scotland. May it shine on you too. 

                                                      'I can't swim, mummy.' 

                                                      'I know.'