I live in the canaries. We have 3 confirmed but contained cases of Corona virus. The Spanish government have acted, So we are now on countrywide lockdown. This means we can only leave the house to see a doctor, collect meds from the chemist, do food shopping (although the shops are stripped bare), to the bank or in an emergency. We are not permitted to have more than one person in a car unless the other is dependent ie a small child or vulnerable adult, all bars and restaurants are closed. We are not allowed to go out at night. We cannot mix with friends.
It worries me greatly that we blindly accept the new rules. We do not question, we do not refuse. We allow ourselves to be ghettoised, segregated, separated from our herd.
Maybe Boris has the right idea with the herd contagion? Who knows?
Yes we have to stay safe but when such drastic measures are taken economies will crash and countries will fall. People will go hungry, they won’t have wages, crime will rise. The situation is dire. I thank god that we have great neighbours and the community spirit is strong.
Since Caroline Flack took her own life there is a massive ‘be kind’ movement. It is beyond tragic that we, as a race, have to be reminded of this by such an act.
Why are we so mean? Are humans naturally cruel and filled with spite? Is it resentment for people who have done well for themselves? Do we feel we have a right to judge those who thrust themselves into the public eye? And why? Surely they do what they do to entertain us – it is their job, it isn’t the whole of who they are. Why do we think we can build them up and then tear them down?
I read about an art exhibition where a woman sat with a table of implements next to her, some nice like a feather boa and body oil others including a knife and gun and she invited the public without consequence to do to her what they wished. They were awful to her. Really really cruel. Starting with insults and moving on to physical abuse. Maria Abramović was the artist and she said she was ready to die!!
Is it only the law that prevents us from giving in to base desires? Are our natural instincts that of a predator, that just likes to toy with its prey? Is it a throwback from the survival of the fittest?
Seriously people, choose kindness
Is it because we hide behind keyboards, anonymous and without consequence?
Normally we have beautiful blue skies this time of year, and sunshine. Last week we had a calima – not unheard of and normally consisting of heat and some sand being deposited on the terrace and mucky windows.
This one was epic. If you went outside you couldn’t breathe without coughing up sand, it made your eyes water. The car was filthy in minutes, a layer of sand everywhere and visibility on the roads dangerously low. But the upside of this freak sandstorm was the most beautiful orange hued skies.
So, you can be buried in an organic pod, providing food for the tree.
Is it just me or is this creepy?
Hubby loves the idea of feeding a huge horse chestnut tree. The whole ‘circle of life’ thing. But he accepts death as a necessary consequence of life and has no illusion of heaven or hell, simply believing this is it.
Whereas I am terrified of death. Won’t even walk through a graveyard at night. Terrified that there is nothing and equally terrified that there is.
That said, if I could be a tree I think I’d be a statuesque beautiful silver nirch
Am doing a dinner party tonight – well a Pictionary night but we are eating first. I’m making oven baked salmon, teeny roast potatoes, garlic,honey roasted carrots and peas with a lemon dill sauce followed by the most fabulous looking puds made by me
I hope everyone loves them, I don’t eat pudding anymore – since the start of lent last year – it’ll be a year in March 3rd.
I took a look at what would make me happy in part one and realised that I needed to get off my lardy arse and make some changes. I mean, if I don’t even do the lottery how am I going to win enough money to make those changes happen?
So, I went out and bought a euromillions ticket – should this minuscule chance of winning fail I have written a list of changes I can make on this road to a life worth living.
What would make me happy would be to weigh a stone less, have a flat stomach and breasts that pass the pencil test, a less droopy arse and to be 30 years younger, living a life without care, just living in the moment. Drinking cocktails and travelling, meeting new people, having fun. A real-life rom-com, instead of my own real-life rom-vom.
I can eat better and move more, this would lead to dropping that ever-present stone too heavy. I can exercise, targeting my flabby stomach and droopy arse. I can’t do much about the pencil test other than to buy great bras and NEVER be seen braless, pray for that lottery win or save for a boob lift. With regard to being 30 years younger – the only thing that will work is acceptance of being nearer 60 than 50. I can drink cocktails whenever I choose, I can arrange travel, doesn’t have to be worldwide – I can just really get to know the place that I live in. I can meet new people by joining new groups of things that interest me and that should lead to having fun. However, living life without a care, just by, well, getting on and living it is probably the hardest. How do you switch off the worry? About the kids, the husband, friends, neighbours and all the little insignificant niggles that are present daily?
Next in this quest to live a life worth living, one worthy of being made into a movie I need to break down the aforementioned into a To do list
To do list
Eat healthy meals during the week. No snacking – track this every day and weigh once a week.
Walk 3 times a week, run once (I am not built for running and my current pb is a pathetic 3k in 25minutes!) and do weight exercises twice – also join a class for cardio. The class will hopefully lead to making new friends and having some fun.
Go bra shopping – get measured and buy bras that lift and separate but are also pretty. Also get matching knickers, and never again wear discoloured mismatched underwear.
Buy a lottery ticket every week; a chance in a zillion is still a chance.
Arrange a girls night out and drink cocktails, sing bad karaoke and chat to strange men in strange bars.
Set up some trips. Visit friends in other places. One day a fortnight go somewhere local and explore.
See if there is anything local that piques my interest and join it.
Accepting my age is probably impossible as I detest catching sight of my wrinkly bits and feeling old. Wonder if, for now, I can just choose the age I would like to be and act that? They say fake it until you make it so why not fake it until you convince others you are something you are actually not?
I did this today just to go to my Spanish lesson
Yes, I realise I look like I am going to a wedding with my fake hairpiece but I felt very elegant.
Letting go of the niggles will also be difficult, but maybe writing them down at the end of the day will at least transfer them from my head to a piece of paper. Tips on a postcard please.
I perused a dating site today (for research) and it asked a series of questions. One of which was, what are you most proud of?
Apart from the kids; and let’s face it giving birth is not much of an achievement, millions of women do it, as for bringing them up, well, they are more or less feral so any achievements and pride therein are theirs alone. I’m not sure I can claim credit there. I couldn’t think of anything! How sad is that?
There have been achievements don’t get me wrong, but NOTHING recent!
It’s my Spanish teachers birthday tomorrow and I’ve gotten onto a habit over the last 4 years of making him a cake. He loves cheeseburgers so here is this years offering – I was too hot to make the sugar cookie fries so he’s got tube wafers instead! ‘Ketchup’ os jam