Watching Paint Dry


This week has been one of self-imposed idleness when I have been hoping to recoup my energy after the previous fortnight when all my strength evaporated after a string of social events.

I have spent nearly a year now recovering from a major brain injury and annoyingly whenever I try to go out there and lead a “normal” life there is always a consequence. Mostly a tight feeling over the haemorrhage site and an accompanying sense of exhaustion. This week off was an attempt to get over what has been a lot of fun.

It hasn’t been easy.

For this week, I have canceled going to my kungfu club or practising my moves in the park, stopped my mandarin Chinese lessons, cut right back on those glasses of wine and hidden away from any social engagement.

There was a trip for a hair-cut to my Venezuelan barber, Luis which, as he is a friend, almost qualifies as a party. I had a stimulating visit from Grant , the builder too, who is trying to find out why there is a damp patch in the kitchen. I have been on a few walks around town just to remind myself that there is a world out there but, apart from that I have been here recouping, taking it easy, chilling out, going up the wall or relaxing.

I have written some new poetry and got another one published too. Look out for the December issue of that excellent on-line poetry anthology The Fib Review, which is produced by Muse-Pie Press in Passaic, New Jersey in the United of States. So far all the poems I have sent out for publication have been accepted by American publishers – God Bless America!

I have kept up the daily blogs on here too hoping that I can at least use some of my brain for writing as long as I don’t over-stretch myself with any serious thoughts. The daily blog has been uninterrupted now since I started it in December last year and maybe this is a moment to thank all my regular readers who have made this site a great way for me to communicate with people all over the World from a small room at the top of the house. Writing for me is what I have to do – so I am happy that I have not had to drop this too.

I just cannot find relaxation in daytime television so, in search of a couch-potato pastime, I have been listening to several recordings of Verdi’s opera Un Ballo In Maschera (A Masked Ball) as I described yesterday. This, the most Classical of his Romantic operas, is a study in darkness and light with the superficial party world of an imagined court besieged by gloom, superstition and despair. In that atmosphere, Verdi tells us, love really is the sweetest thing. Not a bad accompaniment to a week of seclusion.

The world never truly disappears though because I have been watching the high drama of the shop across the road being prepared for a mysterious new function. Again, as discussed earlier this week, drama here has centred on the removal of the old health food shop’s sign, “Barefoot Herbs” and the revelation of a different one “Crocodile Rock.”

I may have got over-excited by all this as I imagined that I was about to become neighbour to something truly glamourous but after some sober reconsideration (I have only had two glasses of wine so far this week), I realize that that Crocodile Rock sign referred back to the days when it was a guitar shop.

Never to get down-hearted though, I now look forward to the real truth. Are they having a new sign painted? Or will a sign painter climb those ladders and reveal the truth in a slow and teasing game of Scrabble? I shall have to wait and see but, fear not, you will be told as soon as I know.

In the meanwhile, I have one of those great pleasures ahead of me. Sheila, the painter/decorator, is up those ladders again painting the front of the shop. Even if I have to wait to see what the new name will be, at least I can sit here and watch the paint dry.

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