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The Occasional Diarist

Thursday 21 May 2009 13:10
It seems like only yesterday, instead of January, when I put all projects on hold, because of the need to sort out the long-endured problems with my main development PC. Those of you who had followed that saga will know that I was so pleased with the resulting home-built PC, I built another. This was quickly followed by non-too subtle alterations in my working environment, including new shelves, changing of rooms for my musical instruments etc. Add to this the launch of another website, and the collation/re-arrangement of material for that, plus numerous visits to the hospital, and the whole lot totals up to a fairly busy time since Christmas – then today arrived.

I’ve been sleeping better in the last week or so – until last night. I’d had about 2 hours and woke up to lie awake for what seemed like another 2, when I must have dozed off again – until 11:30am! This scares me, as when I dragged myself from the bed, understandably stiff and aching, I still felt very tired. When I went downstairs I was shocked at the mess – it’s as if in the last 2 days a whole family of gibbons have been living in my kitchen. I breakfasted and spent nearly an hour washing up almost all the crockery that usually lives untouched in the cupboard. As usual I switched on the mp3 player/photo case while I worked, but had to turn it off because the music was upsetting me.

Strange then, that it was only yesterday that I was ready to pick up halted projects, starting with documenting the DRO, (finally) and had set up the camera on stilts over it’s LCD display, ready to start this morning. Instead, since tidying up I’ve wandered around the house seeking diversion and finding none that I wanted to do. I’ve never sat down and documented severe mood transitions before, and thinking that the downside is never going to happen again is part of the euphoric state. Writing this today, I realise that the actual swing down took place a couple of days ago – evidenced by the mess in the kitchen. At the moment, all of what I was doing seems pretty pointless, and I feel isolated and lonely.

A quick look back over the last week or so dosn’t shed much light on any particular trigger – a letter regarding another appointment about my knees – on August 13 (no it’s a Thursday) just annoyed me at yet another delay – something I usually take in my stride. So I’ll just blame it on my brain chemistry and keep plodding on.

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1 comment to The Occasional Diarist

  • admin2

    Thursday 21st May 2009 17:26
    Just finished a lovely meal – main course stewed shin beef, new potatoes and peas followed by (forbidden) rhubarb pie. AND two big glasses of good french red wine. I’ve thought of a TLA for times like this: BBS – Brittle Behaviour Syndrome. This very accurately describes the rest of my afternoon. I needed to shop so jumped in the car, sat at the roundabout at the top of the road and cursed/fumed/shouted abuse at those people who, although have been driving for years, still don’t know how to use a roundabout. In the supermarket, I managed to upset the guy in front of me in the checkout, when he dropped some of his change – he didn’t even look at me when I remarked that he obviously had too much money, and would he give some of it to me. Then, on the way home, was pulled over by a snot-nosed policeman in a jam sandwich who proceeded to lecture me on the correct behaviour at traffic lights on RED. Followed that up by dispensing unwelcome advice to my friendly electronics shop proprietor on how to stop malicious propaganda about them on the web. All-in-all I suppose I should be glad that I arrived back home in one piece, but couldn’t resist attacking the wine. It has made me feel a little better, but sadly, the effects are only transitory.
    So, while everyone is still in the mood, take a listen to this very lovely version by Cathy Jordan of the Bob Dylan song: Boots of Spanish Leather – her rendition of this feels like someone tenderly caressing my heart.


    Oh, I’m sailin’ away my own true love,
    I’m sailin’ away in the morning.
    Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
    From the place that I’ll be landing?

    No, there’s nothin’ you can send me, my own true love,
    There’s nothin’ I wish to be ownin’.
    Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled,
    From across that lonesome ocean.

    Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
    Made of silver or of golden,
    Either from the mountains of Madrid
    Or from the coast of Barcelona.

    Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
    And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
    I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
    For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’.

    That I might be gone a long time
    And it’s only that I’m askin’,
    Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
    To make your time more easy passin’.

    Oh, how can, how can you ask me again,
    It only brings me sorrow.
    The same thing I would want today,
    I would want again tomorrow.

    I got a letter on a lonesome day,
    It was from her ship a-sailin’,
    Saying I don’t know when I’ll be comin’ back again,
    It depends on how I’m a-feelin’.

    Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way,
    I’m sure your mind is roamin’.
    I’m sure your thoughts are not with me,
    But with the country to where you’re goin’.

    So take heed, take heed of the western wind,
    Take heed of the stormy weather.
    And yes, there’s something you can send back to me,
    Spanish boots of Spanish leather.

    Bob Dylan

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