It has been an odd weekend, one way or the other. At 8.15 on Saturday morning I was meeting my brother outside of the hospital to go in and see my Nan. We – and when I say we, I mean my brother – had received a message from my aunt that an operation my Nan had been given on the previous Monday – which we knew nothing about- had been unsuccessful. Euphemisms like ‘being made comfortable’ and ‘ a matter of time were bandied about. Basically ‘go visit your Nan, she is going to die soon’. I have often said I wanted to live to 92, and that is the age my Nan is now.
“I’ve had a good life” she told me. “But I doubt I’ll be leaving here” After a few moments silence, she mused “I’ve got top’s hung up in the wardrobe I have never even worn, still got the labels on. Wonder if the receipt is somewhere, one of the girls could take them back.”
As her life draws to an end, my Nan pondered whether she had left her heating on back home; back in the little bungalow she would never be seeing again…
Back in the day – that day being December 21st 2018…
I had the wizard idea to select a few items from my Kettle/Bucket/Bristol List and focus on getting them completed. With 13 outstanding items on the 40 x 40, and pretty much ALL of them from the Kettle List, it seemed like a plan was in order. I was trying to concentrate on too many things.
It is with no small irony, that I have been neglecting my blog, to, of all things, write, but I thought I would look at consuming with you today, as it was a subject that was touched upon in one of my earliest Pondering’s. Can we really create in a void? Is there such a thing as ‘new ideas’?
Inspired by a particularly riling twitter thread the other day, I have been pondering the concept of sharing, guilt, and whether it is a learnt behaviour. In particular, I wanted to look at how we were taught as children to share, and how this, in turn, impacts what we then teach our own children.
So is ‘sharing caring’, or does the lesson come with a cost?
That last week of January was the longest of my life – and it ended with very deep snow that I had to trudge for 2 hours in to get to work. I say trudge, it became more of a hobble after I slipped on the ice and landed on my back. After realising I would not actually be able to sit down at work, I was allowed home to wallow in pain. Welcome to February everyone!
I broke a three year streak on Monday; for the first time since January 2016, I did not put a Vlog out on my YouTube channel. What’s more is that it was intentional. I almost caved Monday night, and was tempted to just put a short one up – a ‘Polly Filler’ if you will, but I stayed strong. Sometimes you have to break things, to correct them. Like a leg sometimes needs to be re-broken to set it straight, this streak needed to be broken so I could step back and look at where I am going. But where am I going? And do I really want to go there? Is change good, and if so, why do we fear t?
Following a chat in work about baby names, and what we might have been called had we been a different sex, I have been pondering names. Having investigated the subject as part of a ‘personal identity’ module at University, it amazes me that people are so unthinking in their choices when naming children, particularly in light of studies that cite the psychological impacts of the wrong name.