Walking Home with an unexpected special guest appearance

I began to feel the strong urge around the middle of the week. By the time Friday arrived it became a compulsion and so I sensibly prepared by pacing myself throughout the school day. Walking home is something I really enjoy and can take up to two hours but is so worth it as it's such a lovely route with beautiful views. It's mostly uphill for the first hour with birdsong, sheep and lambs for company. Feeling a bit weary as I approached The Golden Cock, I considered stopping for a swift half by myself but decided against it. No rest for the wicked and upon reflection a brilliant decision. Up to this point I had only encountered five people, two of those were at a distance, which meant that I had only chatted to three other humans in the last hour.

My cheeks were naturally a bit flushed and thank heavens I was wearing my best bra. Did even my underwear drawer have some psychic powers that fine morning? I was proudly wearing my purple school T. shirt with its badge hovering over my properly supported left breast; Victoria Tower and the rainbow moving in natural rhythm with every step I made. Having changed into some comfy flowery trousers and walking boots at work, shouldering my rucksack and carrying a Co-op plastic bag with my school trousers and shoes inside, I was merrily on the straight and narrow as the landscape flattened a little at this stage.

There is NO WAY upon earth that I was expecting what happened next.

As you already know I only need glasses for reading and the optometrist said my long vision is very good. Spotting a couple up ahead walking towards me along the thin path, I had already decided that I would step aside to let them pass when we got too close for comfort. Do not fear fellow travellers, I have gratefully received both of my vaccinations. 

We were fast approaching a chance meeting on a collision course seemingly set by fate herself.

They walked nearer,

I stepped closer. 

They continued, 

so did I. 

As we gravitated towards one another

they came into clear focus. 

OH MY!

My face erupted into a gigantic grin when I recognised it was none other than my local literary hero and travelling companion, (possibly his wife). Here is a transcript of our brief encounter:

Susie: All Hail Poet Laureate (in a sing-song voice with a hand sweeping flourish)

Simon & companion: both snigger/laugh at me

Susie: I always hoped that I would bump into you again someday around here.

Simon: (smiling) It's a dream come true.

Susie: (also smiling) It is! (raising both arms above her head in elation)

I complete the second hour of my walk home in audible giggles and bouts of laughter. There is always a million things I could have said but I think I handled it pretty well this time. I'm proud of my minimal communication with my literary hero and his companion. I have met him a few times after various poetry readings/book signings and also in the local record shop (read my Poet DJ in motion blogpost for more). It was beyond brilliant to bump into him again though, especially out in the fields, in nature, at the end of another busy and tiring week at work. Just the inspiration I needed to fuel the writing, to keep persevering, to keep believing. Simon Armitage's future ignited when he won a poetry competition and this is what I cling onto when I need extra courage, or a spark of faith in my own scribblings.

After all, it really does seem that dreams can come true.

With love xx

PS Keep walking

Blurred Vision

 

Another trip to Specsavers and this time I find myself coming out with my first ever prescription for some reading glasses. My eyes are also tested for glaucoma as Mum has it and I'm happy to report the optometrist assessed that my pressure was good. That's reassuring, unlike my blood pressure which was sky high when I used my own monitor recently. Was that because I had just had my first wild swim in a local reservoir in April? What hypertension? It was flipping freezing. I will possibly write more of that adventure another time when I have thawed out fully.

Back to the eyes for now. Let's see if we can create a clearer picture for you readers. Blimey, this font size is just as small as the bottom line of the close range reading test I could not decipher at all. I was quite horrified as Dad didn't need his first pair of reading glasses until he was 50. That was also my goal. My mission has failed with 7 months still to go to reach that half-century milestone. Fear not, I have already purchased a new party frock to redress the balance.

Clark Kent (to protect his true identity), was given the challenge of helping me choose my first glasses, poor lad. I was feeling quite giddy by this stage because I realised it signalled yet another sign of ageing that I have to fully embrace. I am desperately trying to transition smoothly and gracefully into this next stage of my life.

Glancing wildly around the store, I saw a poster with a lovely auburn haired female modelling some perfect frames and blurted out, 'I want to look like her!' Clark was probably grimacing behind his mask whilst thinking, fat chance of that you daft woman. He chose instead to remain professionally focused and politely laughed along with me. Regaining composure, I changed tack by suggesting that I wanted to look intelligent instead.

Due to stricter hygiene requirements, every time I tried on some frames I had to put them in a special tray for a super duper deep cleaning process, so I felt a bit guilty trying on lots of them. This further increased the challenge before me. 

It was also going to be very hard to choose my first pair of glasses because I had cycled in, (to defeat the signs of ageing), and therefore my hair was a mess and, of course, I had to wear a face mask. Lovely young auburn haired, perfectly framed goddess looked nothing like me. Was she actually smirking down on me with her effervescent youth and beauty? Watch out, your time will come perfect poster model.

The designer range was my first real hurdle to get over without upsetting young Mr Kent, who was wearing a very nice pair of glasses by the way. Were they real or just for show? I genuinely believe other people really suit glasses, tattoos, grey hair and laughter lines.

Romeo wears contact lenses and glasses but usually not at the same time. Both have great advantages for me because when he is lens free he still thinks I look lovely even at close range. This is brilliant news because we all know how often looks can be deceiving.

'How about these Karen Millen ones?' Clark proffers them forth.

'Agh! NO WAY man, I cannot do designer, it's just not me. Haven't you heard Suzanne by Leonard Cohen. I am the very same charity shop rags and feathers wearing woman.'

'And you want travel with her, and you want to travel blind 

And then you know you can trust her

For she's touched your perfect body with her mind....'

Undeterred he thrusts a pair of Kylie frames towards me with silver encrusted arms.

'NO WAY!! I love Kylie, everyone loves Kylie, but I really can't see myself in them.'

He's finally getting the picture. 'No bling then.' 

Definitely no bling.

We jump down a couple of price brackets to the shop's own range. This is more like it. Why didn't we start here in the first place, I wonder?

'The trouble is Clark, there are so many to choose from. I mean, if there were only two choices it would be very easy wouldn't it?' I can sense him longing for his lunch break which is another galaxy away as it has only just gone 10 am. To help us both, I suddenly whip out my oversized sunglasses from the dazzling yellow cycling jacket I'm highly visible in.

'These are my sunglasses, but I don't want anything quite so big for reading with do I?'

This kickstarts a whole new phase where I can discern progression. Superman hands me some dark tortoiseshell frames which are OK, then another lighter pair. Like the blind leading the blind we are slowly getting somewhere. Finally, I settle on some pale tan coloured, faintly tortoiseshell frames which don't look too bad, I suppose. I'm sure I will be able to fashion my intelligent reading look in time. And really, despite all things vainly appearance related, I do want to be able to read comfortably for the rest of my life. There is so much more to learn, absorb, to be inspired by, and so little time for it all.

All of us must continue to make time for the simple pleasures in life.

Do not underestimate those things which make you happy and feel at peace. Strive for balance in work, rest, exercise and relaxation and try to enjoy all things in equal measure. This is my enlightened vision for my own future health and happiness. 

To fifty and beyond................................Suzz Lightyear to the rescue (of herself).

With love xx

PS If you're struggling to read this blog post please get your precious eyes checked, or simply alter your font size to LARGEST.

Family Affair

When I awake one of the first things I see when my eyes adjust to daylight, is a 10 years younger version of me staring straight back. No, I am not so brave that I dare to gaze directly into a mirror, it would surely reveal the horror that I attempt to conceal with natural looking day make-up. It can only be the other plausible option; that being the family portrait hanging in our home gallery. Interestingly, this could be perceived as being even more narcissistic than observing ones reflection in a pool of water and subsequently dying. 

Surely everyone nowadays owns a family portrait painted on a canvas in acrylic (102cm x 76cm), covering an otherwise blank space in their home? 

If not, get that project on your 'to do' list.

It's quite scary to be honest but does capture us at a specific time in our lives, as a photograph does, but this remains unfiltered and raw, just how I like it. We four sit together on our second-hand sofa in the living room. From left to right we are: Still midlife crisis; myself, no fringe then and obviously wearing an ill-fitting bra; Mini-Me, cuddling the school teddy bear, now upgraded to the infamous Teenage Dirtbag title; Still Romeo, (can't change that one either), looking very stern and grumpy, probably due to what appears to be a dislocated elbow; daughter dirtbag, now blossomed into Psych Undergraduate, perched mischievously on the sofa arm.

A young talented artist painted the portrait for us from a photograph. We could not sit still for that long. He was one of Romeo's students when he taught art at the local high school. I am desperately trying to get a James Joyce reference in here but think it may be too contrived. We bought our beloved Rusty from the same young man in more recent history. 

Rusty currently sits in the garage after being stood still for far too long during lockdown. We all identify with that feeling don't we? She got clamped and un-clamped within an hour one harrowing day, after we forgot to tax her because she had a flat battery. Now legally roadworthy again she needs a new accelerator amongst many other things, including some welding and touching up. Well to be honest she could do with a full blown paint job. Hopefully now you can understand why we are not a pet owning family. I feel a bizarre physical symmetry with Rusty as there are indeed more and more body parts for me to worry about and keep in decent working order at this delicate stage of midlife.

We didn't know where to hang the portrait at first; it seemed to dominate in the living room, yet got lost on the landing. And so it ended up in the loft at the very top of our house. When I study the painting now I have flashbacks through time at high speed. The layers of colour and brush strokes recreate pictures in my mind of adventures already had and summon visions of how I should have been more prepared for coping with teenagers. I have reached the conclusion that it's really just about clinging on tightly to the mast while trying not to fall overboard. Bravely weathering the many frequent and often turbulent storms coming directly at you full force without any warning whatsoever. HELP, HELP ME, SOMEONE HELP ME!

Perhaps try something exhilarating like skydiving or swimming with sharks to remain focused and on high alert. That is, if you can abandon the family ship for an hour or two when the waters are surprisingly calm.

Still dance and sing whenever you can.

With love xx

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znlFu_lemsU