The Blues

Today I had a BAD day.

There is no other way to put it. No, my goldfish did not pass away. In fact, I don’t have a gold fish, and I never would, because it reminds me of an unsavoury being with bony feet.

Nothing bad happened.

My sister climbed on to a roof in a hot country in the Arabian peninsula. The wind whipped at her hair whilst her cousins, who are half Vietnamese, laughed at her with red cheeks and bright eyes. I expect they had some soy wings garnishes with spring onions after that, whilst one of my cousins made some freshly brewed coffee.

My mother in law called me and we had a lovely chat, and my eyes prickled with tears whilst I laughed down the phone with her because she put that effort in to talk to me, and I don’t think anybody has done that for me recently. Not even my own mother. I think my mother thinks I mother her too much, like a reincarnation of her mother. I said, ‘Look, mother, I have to take care of you.’

She doesn’t like that at all. I just can’t help it. I love her too much.

When I went to the bathroom to freshen up my face looked alarming. You see, I have olive skin. So when I am pale, it is a brownish, purply sort of pale. My skin becomes slightly green, and the deep circles beneath my eyes are a strange purply brown hue. My lips had no colour, so they were a little purple too. I just looked terrible. I looked like the photograph I once saw of a woman in the last stages of death. How morbid does that sound?

Wow,‘ I called to my husband, ‘I look like I’m dead!

Yup.’ came his response. Pregnant with sarcasm and dripping with disdain and oozing with disappointment. He wanted me to wear my red dress today. But I wasn’t feeling it. He likes that dress a lot for some reason, but sometimes I just don’t want to wear a clingy dress with slits down the side to just … hang around the house.

And it was Saturday, we’d booked tickets to Bletchley Park, the manor house where Alan Turing created his renowned code machine. We thought it was in Manchester (only 40 mins away) and realised after we’d booked, with disappointed jolts that it was all the way in Milton Keynes, two and a half hour’s drive away.

We set the alarm for 8am to leave early, but ended up waking up at 10:30am – meaning we’d have next to no time to really explore and make the most of our visit when we arrived (you need five hours in a place like that, really), so we called up and discovered that the tickets allow us to go back anytime up to a year after purchase, as many times as we please. So, we had some cereal and … did… nothing.

I was upset. I wanted to go outside for a walk at least. I KNOW, I could have gone by myself but that’s hellish lonely. And I always go by myself. D didn’t want to go. He hates walking. He says I am such an old soul but frankly, HE is the old soul. What kind of person hates walking in the spring sunshine?! He only wants to do something if it is hugely entertaining. He has imagination, but not enough to take joy from walking around the block and noticing other people and their front gardens and the way the setting sun sprouts colour in places to light them up and bring some rosy cheeked joy into the world.

Also I felt that he could have sucked it up and gone for a measly half hour with me. He would have enjoyed it, I always make him enjoy it. I washed the dishes angrily and thought dark thoughts about him while he played VIDEO GAMES upstairs.

First world problems? Of course. Oh dear.

I am drinking some coffee, now, and getting on with some work. Tomorrow D promised he would go for a walk with me and we would have brunch in a cafe and then maybe take a drive someplace pretty. I am on the hunt for a poppy field. I know there is one nearby. I just feel it in my bones, and I also had a dream about it. I must find it, it is driving me crazy. My eyes are yearning for it and so is my soul, a little bit.

D thinks poppy fields are boring. I think he would appreciate them more if they existed inside a video game or if he experienced them using the Oculus Rift. Kids these days *rolls eyes* – only entertained with technology. They will never understand the true joys of an undigitalised world, will they?

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What Happened on Saturday?

Here is a repost of one of the first blog posts I ever wrote on this site. Mainly because I am busy studying and thought it would be good to recycle. 

 

This isn’t an exclusive insight into Saturday the 21st of December, but a summary of lots of Saturdays, and the significance of Saturdays, and what Saturday has come to mean.

Everybody has a different image in their minds when they hear the word ‘Saturday’.

For me, Saturdays are laced with yet other obligations I must adhere to. I have archery classes on a Saturday, and while this may not be an obligation as SUCH, it is nevertheless something I know will deter me from having a classic weekend lie in!

Saturday the 21st, 2013, was an interesting day. I was kept busy enough not to notice that I had a sore throat settling in until right after dinner, when swallowing my peppermint tea became rather a chore. Hmm, thought I, I do hope I am not coming down with anything!

My hopes were slammed to the curb however, when I woke up this morning feeling absolutely despicable.

When I used to live abroad, Saturdays were the first days of the week, meaning that my school week began on a Saturday, and ended on a Wednesday. Needless to say our Saturdays were like Mondays, and our Wednesdays were like Fridays!

During those schooldays I made up a song-y sort of limerick that went along the lines of,

“Saturday, chatterday, butterscotch and batter day”

and I can’t remember the rest but it was quite catchy and I used to sing it every Saturday whilst I was getting ready for school. Saturdays are rather measly, in general. Everybody is out on a Saturday so your usual haunts are no longer your own personal haunts but the haunts of the world, which diminishes their sense of ‘haunt’, as it were.

Personally I prefer Fridays. They consist of a day’s worth of hard work, and end in an evening of rest and relaxation, which, unlike on a Saturday, feel DESERVED because one had worked their ass off for it! Added to that feeling is the sense of freedom which comes with knowing that you can stay up as long as you wish doing whatever you like, because there is nothing to prepare for the next day, and no specific time in which you have to be awake!

Also, I shall take this opportunity to say that the dates and the days of December 2013 correspond to the dates and the days of September of the same year! To make this statement clearer, I shall give you an example. In September, this year, the 21st occured on a Saturday, and the 22nd occurred on a Sunday, which is the same as the 21st of this month (December), which occurred on a Saturday, and the 22nd (today) which happens to fall on a Sunday! I just thought this was an interesting little bitsy fact worthy of note.

What comes to your mind when you think of ‘Saturday’?

A Saturday Thought

One thing I have learned about life is that you have to have a lot of faith, and have to be a lot content with your lot in this world. You have to have faith in yourself, to pull you up and keep you going when times are rough. To wake you up in the mornings, and feed you and clothe you and take care of all your emotions.

You also have to have faith in other people, even though faith in them is sometimes thrown back in your face. You have to throw things to chance. You have to work hard, even though your heart is broken and your morale is low, and you have nothing going for you because eczema riddles your arms, your chest is wheezy, your hair loss has become so bad you can’t hide it anymore, you have extra fat and it’s putting you off looking pretty. You have to brush your hair and wash your face and wear a nice bra because you’re twenty two and even though you don’t feel like you look like regular gorgeous twenty two year olds, you still have to look good and feel good.

You have to fight even though your husband is being a moody git and denies it when questioned why. Even though both he and I know he is being a git.

You have to fight even though you feel so lonely and all your family is far away and there is so much work to do and so many things to plan for and you have barely started and you feel too ill and demotivated to start.

You have to have faith. You have to look at those below you because you have money in your bank account, a roof over your head, heating to warm your cold toes and a bloody good mattress. Plus you just ate a roast chicken for dinner and how many people can say they’ve had that?

That’s a blessing, folks. It’s a mighty blessing and all these complaints are trivial, and you have to have faith and hope and keep fighting for your hair and your marriage and your family and your friendships and your sanity.

And your faith.

I have a faith, folks. I don’t talk about my faith often, but my faith is what keeps me going, keeps me wondering at the majestic beauty of the world and the meticulous science behind everything. I have a faith, and I need to keep it alive.

That was my Saturday thought. Adieu! Have a great weekend.

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