Antibiotics

 I don't have much to say today as for the past thirty six hours I have been suffering from a urine infection. This happens to me perhaps once every two years or so and the symptoms are unpleasantly familiar.

You feel washed out and feverish. It's a bit like being poisoned from within. My urine is cloudy and as instructed  I took a sample of it to our medical centre in the early afternoon. I have hardly had anything to eat today for my appetite vanished entirely  yesterday evening.

Fortunately, I now have a course of antibiotics that I picked up free of charge from our local pharmacy later this afternoon. No sign of any improvement yet but fingers crossed I will turn a corner tomorrow morning.

I must share this with you. At the pharmacy there was a smiley receptionist in her late fifties. When I rocked up she said, "You used to be my English teacher!"  She had left the school in question in 1982. We both bewailed the fact that it is now the location of a retail park. Such a shame. It was a great school and I had five happy years there.

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Successor

 

Above - that's Raynor Winn and her husband Moth. Back in 2020, she  had great success with her book, "The Salt Path"   . I reviewed it in November of that year. It told the true story of a long distance walk that she and Moth took along England's South West Coast Path. Having been evicted from their Welsh farmhouse and with little money, the walk was an act of self-affirmation.

Her second book is titled "The Wild Silence" and it covers the months after her initial literary success. They move into a dilapidated farm in Cornwall which they have to bring back to life with the encouragement of an understanding and supportive landlord.

In the last third of the book they venture to Iceland and undertake a challenging trek with two friends in the wild southwestern landscape of that raw island.

Claims on the book cover include: "A thrill to read!", "Extraordinary!" and "Spellbinding!" But these judgements did not match my own. In my opinion, "The Wild Silence" lacked the purpose and page turning readability of the first book.

It was certainly okay with some great passages - often concerning nature - but on the whole I felt it was probably written with the encouragement of a literary agent in cahoots with Penguin Books - to capitalise upon the success of "The Salt Path".

She has published a third book now called "Landlines" about a long distance walk down the west of Britain from the top of Scotland but I wouldn't be in a hurry to buy it. There are so many other books out there  to read aren't there?

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Wanted

 Lord,

In my silence

Your work

Is achieved

In me

To be thanked 

For using my gift

Is the biggest blessing

And answer to prayer

One simple statement

Sent my soul ablaze

And my heart

A flutter 

Knowing 

What I do

Matters

If I’m honest

It’s all

I’ve ever wanted

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Guilt

Blogging can take up quite a lot of one's time. There are blogposts to compose day after day and there are visits to make to favoured blogs, frequently leaving comments behind.

Though I am quite reliable with regard to visiting certain blogs, I can't help feeling guilty about my general failings as a blog visitor. For whatever reason I like to visit "Magnon's Meanderings" and "Shadows and Light" every morning and I am also pretty good at keeping up with "Nobody's Diary", "Going Gently" and "Northsider"but there are many great, well-maintained blogs that I only tend to visit intermittently.

There are some blogs that I hardly ever visit even though I know they are eminently readable and worthy of regular attention. To these bloggers I want to send a heartfelt "sorry". In my defence I can only say that I want to limit my blogging time and argue  that it is possible to sign up for too many blogs. 

Before you know it, the daily hours you spend on blogging could easily be doubled. You have to draw the line somewhere.

I am very grateful to the people who regularly visit "Yorkshire Pudding" even though I may not do them the honour of courtesy return visits.

Here in the blogosphere, I have encountered many wonderful people who pump out great blog content. From Mary Moon in Lloyd Florida to Andrew in Melbourne Australia and from Meike in Ludwigsburg, Germany to Bob in Camden, South Carolina. The ride so far has been marvellous but to repeat, I am sorry that I cannot spare more time to pay intimate attention to even more blogs.

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24/7

 Right now 

I don’t have words

For what I’m feeling 

I’m just overwhelmed 

By love

That is poured 

Over me

Twenty 

Four 

Seven

Much like 

The baclofen

Streaming 

Into my

Spine

Love yourself and each other

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Buses

Have you ever ridden on a long distance bus? Where were you travelling to?

On Saturday morning, Shirley and I travelled by "National Express" coach right into the heart of London and returned on Monday afternoon via the same mode of transport. Sheffield is 170 miles from our nation's capital city. For the two of us the cost of the return fare was only £42.00 (That's US$52 or AUS$80).

The buses were pretty new and clean with plenty of legroom and it was nice to let someone else do the driving as we read our books or, in Shirley's case, knitted little hats for babies. We had made sandwiches to consume halfway down the motorway and the same on the way back. We were not irritated by other passengers for there was a quiet, respectful atmosphere on board our two coaches.

When I was in my early twenties, I climbed aboard a few Greyhound buses in The States. I guess the longest journey I took was from Bloomington, Indiana - changing in Chicago before carrying on to Minneapolis. I also journeyed between New York City and Cleveland.

However such bus travel pales into insignificance when I recall the return coach journey I took in the summer of 1980 from London to Athens, Greece aboard The Magic Bus. I dimly recall that the journey took over 24 hours - so long that it seemed it would never end.

In northern Yugoslavia in the middle of the night, I opened my eyes to witness the horror of our two drivers swapping over at the wheel while travelling at seventy miles an hour along an arrow-straight road. I am sure I did not dream this.

I also took a long distance bus from Santiago, Chile to Mendoza, Argentina in 2009 - right through The Andes passing close to Aconcagua  - the tallest mountain in South America. Long distance bus travel appeared to be a vital means of connection in South America where the rail "network" is patchy or non-existent.

Earlier today I was asked to complete a customer survey by National Express and I found it rather nice to score ten of ten for just about everything. We had no complaints but I guess we were also quite lucky that there no hold-ups on the M1 motorway because of accidents, congestion or roadworks. That is pretty unusual.

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Lord

 Lord,

It’s me.  The weekly sessions continue. I don’t see them stopping. I’m learning hard lessons. I don’t know what to say anymore. Maybe that’s the point. Silence is an action, I need to partake in. It’s in silence, my focus is shifted in the only direction necessary:  Yours. 

I need to run my own race. As much as I desire the journeys of others, You do not. Maybe it’s not Cerebral Palsy I need to accept. I need to accept the journey I’m on. Maybe it’s not to be well known, but to make You know. Riches and fame dwindle, but You do not ever decrease. 

I hate to write these words, but envy is the one sin I fight daily. And I will continue to fight it, until I can release it. I’m not proud of it, but to eradicate it, I must admit its presence.  

Lord

Have you way

So that mine

No longer

Strangles me

From

The inside out

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