In spite of everything . . .

Wellness is a fickle taunter!

I thought that I was trundling along the path of coughless delight, where phlegm flowers would no longer bloom when, as so many times before, I made the basic mistake of waking up.  First conscious breath and my tracheae made a bit for freedom.  An orchestrated double concerto for vocal chords and lung!  By the time I had finished I felt that any attempt to leave my bed would be foolhardiness at best and attempted self-destruction at worst.

But the alarm then went off, and like any well trained Russian laboratory animal I dutifully and instinctively rose to take my first puff of medicine.  Justifiably exhausted by two droplet infused inhalations I fell back to my pillow only to be raised, Lazarus-like an hour later for the next puff.  It may not seem like much of a life, but the endlessly irritating gobbets of so-called tune that comprise the iPhone alarm, structure my day for me!  I may be retired from school, but I still exist to the sound of bells!

Phase I of my revision is now done.  Phase II is making the final detailed notes of the essential information which has to be scattered among the generalizations that I intend to make the basis for my responses to the questions.

So, revision, start of a new course, start of another one in nine days, illness and, as a special feature – slimming!  Or at least trying to change my diet a little.  I have to admit that bronchitis is a useful ally in slimming as it does somewhat reduce the appetite – though I would like to think that sheer will-power could achieve this were I fully well.

Apart from a stubborn inclination to produce my own rousing dawn chorus of coughing, I am determined to think that I am getting better.  We will soon see how far rude health and sparse ingestion co-exist!

I have now placed a pad and pen at my bedside and was therefore able to capture in written words “the ruffled sound of a distant cough” – I am sure that will come in useful sometime or other!

The writing of a daily haiku is now becoming something like brushing your teeth: a chore but something which makes you feel better.  It has been a long time since I wrote poetry (or anything approaching it) on a regular basis.  I used to find that self-indulgent misery was the requisite spur for me, but with the demands of the course looming large on a methodically on-going basis, moping has to give way to a form of professionalism.  Writing is work and has to be done, with or without the clichéd starter of elegant depression!

Lunch with Irene has been put off for a further week, although she assures me that the raw material for the meal is safely frozen and will survive another week’s wait.  I have made an executive decision that, obviously, this meal will not be subject to the calorific restraints under which I am living at the moment.  This occasion will be regarded officially as a “Feeding Fiesta” and Will Not Count.  My cunning plan is to hope that my diet (now a week long, dear god is it only a week) will encourage suppression of appetite so that I will, instinctively, choose smaller amounts and thus continue along The Way to redemption.  Not a great plan, but it is all I have at the moment.

The lashing rain of yesterday evening, accompanied by OTT thunder and stage lightening which have given way this morning to a beautiful day of clear blue skies and streaming sunshine.  If only the canine population of the area would develop terminal laryngitis then we humans might be able to relax in placid, warm tranquillity.

As it is the weekend, the other bane of our lives, children, are openly on display.  One of the true delights of retirement is walking around town during the weekday without having ears assaulted by shards of childish scream.  The ranks of the Grey Brigade take over the streets and a secret smile plays about the lips as we retake what is rightfully ours.  I must, however, try and restrain my impulse to call the police every time I see a child during the forbidden times – though they all should be in school and stay in school for lunch and after school activities!

It is now almost the afternoon, at least in Spain and I have the opportunity to get going on Phase II of my revision before its official start tomorrow. 

Choices, always choices. 

And how did I ever find time to do an actual job?