So.I’m feeling really odd, and I’m writing a worthy poem, which approached loss from a diagonal rather than a lateral position. I’m talking to Janet, my confidante, talking about said offering, and then Bob Marley decides to nose-dive from the wall above me, hitting me squarely on the head! Of course it made me laugh… I laughed hysterically, for as always, the spirits will not stand for my pomposity. As soon as I begin to think myself worthy, they will drop a bomb upon me. Given that there are about 50 pictures upon my walls, the odds of just the one above my head falling are at least 50/1, so the significance the spirits ruse, to burst my bubble, are not to be sniffed at.

So the New Year has rushed in, like an impatient puppy, and I have not prepared for it, I have no drugs to liberate myself from my bed… Have to wait til the chemist opens to get my prescription on Thursday. And thus, this eponymous hero, spent the bank holiday, sleeping, if not tranquilly, then tranquillised, with different painkillers, which, it states on the back of the box, should not be taken whilst operating machinery. So, with a heavy heart, I avoided operating my steam laptop.

So Big Bob Marley hit me on the head… So much for peace and love BOB, and I’m left thinking, how do I escape the tawdry existence offered, when I can barely move?

I want to re-enter society, a year and a day in mourning is enough of That, but the ability to re-enter, somewhat escapes me. I seem to be reaching maximum density, my meagre frame not being designed for the carriage of 14 stone. In my mind I see me running the streets and sweating off the excess baggage… But my mind’s eye is sadly behind the times… Running with a severely damaged medial ligament in the right knee is no longer practicable. That, plus my dear departed spine, which likes to play fast and loose with my nerve endings, sending enough false messages of pain down my legs to sink a battleship.

The upshot of this nonsense is this: I want to get on with life, I want to get back in the fray, but my body is gently dissolving, and making the where with all to escape this torpor, increasingly problematic.

So let’s welcome in this new decade, my first without my beloved Marie, and just get on with it! No portentous declamations, no misery, no cries for help… just onwards and upwards, if I can get up I will. Damn You!

Dale ‘M’

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