Today was to be an up and at ’em type day. Things to do, places to go. After so many weeks of rain and grey skies, today dawned bright and sunny.
There has been precious little point in shutting the curtains as I go to bed as dusk turns to dark and then rise when the darkness gives way to dawn. So the curtains stay open which gives me a wonderful view across the rolling countryside to watch the changing seasons on the farm fields that surround us here in French France.
With all the rain we have been having, everything is growing at a great rate of knots, green, yellow, or golden depending on which crop is planted in which field. As there are many fields to see, the vista is varied at all times. Just last night, a combine harvester, supported by two tractors pulling trailers, was munching its way over a field that required the use of my binoculars to see. Even then, I couldn’t make out the make or model of the combine as the distance was too great.
However, with the sun once more displaying the glory of its starry golden orb as it marches inexorably towards its zenith, to lay in bed would be a waste of the day. So full of the joys of summer, I flung back the covers and sprang from the pit. I sprang not wisely, but too well. As the spring in my leap transferred to a spasm in my back I collapsed onto the bed and wondered why I had been so stupid as to move so fast, so early in the morning. As you know by now if you have been keeping up to date with the previous stories from Life’s Rich Tapestry, I am not one to use expletives unnecessarily, however, today the bedroom air turned blue with one particular word (which I will leave to your own furtive imaginations), as I had to resort to crawling across the floor to get to the bathroom where, using the basin for support, I hauled my carcass up and onto the toilet.
There sat sitting, as I contemplated the distance from my present position to the distant toilet roll…I recalled for some inexplicable reason an explanatory picture of heaven and hell and how in both places was a long table, laid full of delicious food that was available for all assembled to eat.
In hell, everyone was struggling with the utensils that were provided to eat with. Food was going everywhere except where the inhabitants wanted it, which was in their mouths. They were driven mad with hunger yet were sitting opposite each other in plain sight of the available food.
The utensils they were given were of such a length that they couldn’t eat properly with them and instead they were resorting to grabbing succulent morsels and flicking them skyward to try to catch them in their mouths as they fell back to earth. Needless to say, this wasn’t working for them. Food was flying in all directions and as a result, they were suffering greatly with many privations.
Casting my eyes then towards the picture of the table in heaven where there was equal bounty on offer, surprisingly the utensils for eating were the same as in hell. Extraordinarily long and unwieldy yet everyone there was saited and satisfied, happily replete with sufficient sustenance.
The only difference between the two places was that whereas in hell, everyone was out for what they could get for themselves and were suffering because of it, in heaven, everyone was feeding the person sat sitting opposite. In sharing and giving, each was rewarded with the fullness of the bounty.
The toilet roll was out of reach by a few inches and as is so often said, an inch is as good as a mile, in my case, the quandary of going without was not a pleasant thought. There was no one opposite me to pass me the roll and I was in my own private hell of pain, frustrated inability and inadequacy.
Engineering physics was fortunately the answer to my dilemma. Tipping points and lever actions!
With one hand on the basin I tipped forward like a feeding pink flamingo, swiping with my free hand, like a bill searching for shrimps, until it made contact with the loo roll. Success! Joy was unconfined and order was once more restored to those regions that shall be forever private. Now for a shower…
I can report that Codeine and coffee both give me the opportunity to share with you this little story and the pain and subsequent suffering is slowly subsiding as I write this update of events from a reclining position on the sofa.
Work is on hold until I have recovered sufficiently to move without resembling a decrepit old man.
On that particular subject, I attended our ‘local’ hair removal establishment yesterday and as the Covid pandemic restrictions are still being applied here, when asked what I wanted done, I fluently requested through my mask in schoolboy French, pointing at my head, “Un, deux, trois et vingt-cinq”, which caused much mirth from the salon proprietor.
I entered there un homme of advanced years and left a young man! Jolly good job too!
Fear not lovely people, although life isn’t always a bed of roses and there are plenty of thorns to keep it real, I’ll be back to my racing snake fit self before long, so in the meantime, move with care, look out for each other, keep a loo roll to hand at all times and…
Carry on regardless!
One thought on “Even Roses Have Thorns…”
Since I lost half of my hair aged 45, I have used clippers to crop off what is left. I am 69 now, and my hairstyle hasn’t changed in 24 years! Many thanks for following my blog. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.