Why, oh why, do we spend so much time, money, Polyfilla, unguents and injections trying to persuade those who see us – and our friend/enemy, the mirror – that we are caught in amber and never getting a moment older?
I am writing this in the full knowledge that I am just as guilty, every bit as vain, as the next man – or woman! I continue to bathe my tresses in secret and magic potions in order to continue the illusion that I am a true red-head, rather than the mousy-brown-segueing-into-grey reality; though, being essentially honest (not to say blunt), I then undo the illusion by telling everyone that I dye my hair! Duh!
But my new mirror is not of the flattering, arse-licking variety – and, when I gaze into its mysterious shallows, I am confronted by the truth: A face which is more used road map than…
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Water is such a simple thing, so much a part of our lives, but how often do we ever think about it?
In the Western world, we don’t have to worry about whether we have enough of it to drink or grow our food. Most of us don’t have to contend with having far too much of the stuff either, watching helplessly as it destroys and washes away our lives.
This made me think of all the things that water has washed away over the centuries. We use it to cleanse, removing dirt, germs, and all manner of other nasties. When you watch all that dirty water going down the plughole, how many of us give a thought to where it goes or what happens to it?
We live in a self- contained world. Everything we have on this earth has been here forever, and that includes every single drop of water. No new supplies can magically appear to help us out when needed.
The water you washed your face with this morning might be the very same water that prehistoric man washed his feet in. Chances are, we are drinking the same water as Cleopatra or Joan of Arc.
How is this even possible, I hear some of you say. It must be pure conjecture on my part as it makes little sense. But our planet is a remarkable recycling machine. It has to be, for we cannot hop over to another planet when we run out of things.
Then there is another concern. If the water we use today really is that old, how is it even safe to drink?
Quite apart from man’s efforts to clean and filter our water, our lovely planet has that covered too. Everything we use ends up in the ground, filtering into rivers and eventually the sea. The sea is incredibly salty, purifying anything that falls into it. The sun evaporates the salty water, where it ends up floating around in massive rain clouds, just waiting for conditions to be right to chuck it all back down at us.
I think of all the times I have tried to wash away the pain and tears, disasters and mistakes in my life. The good stuff is often washed away too – and I often wish I had cherished these moments more and made them last longer.
These moments have to last us a lifetime, and it is only towards the end of your life that you realise just how precious they all were…
It’s been an interesting week, this last one, both as an author and also for my health and me.
It gave me an idea for a new feature on my blog, covering two topics that are close to my heart: Writing and disability. I always wanted to make this blog about making progress as a new author, learning new tricks, making new contacts, finding new resources, etc., but I also wanted to be able to speak directly to people that write with their own challenges. For me, it’s my health. I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis back in 2001 and live with it every day. With this new feature, I hope to be able to provide some helpful tips and resources for new authors, but also share with you some of the other part of my life, MS.
If you’ve followed along, you will know that I speak openly…
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It seems my ‘chitis likes it here on Widder Island. I’m on my third week of antibiotics and I feel crappy, and if La La Land wins Best Picture, I’ll feel even worse. It wasn’t … terrible … but come on people, if you’re going to have a film about people who sing and dance, hire actors who can sing and dance above a B-movie level.
We return you to our regularly scheduled snow report.
How the mighty have melted
Poor rosemary looks like a bunch of frozen twigs
Midnight at the Oasis …
Midnight last night … Yep … that’d be more snow! ( shot from the front door, cos there’s no way I’m going out there)
Remember this song?