Là Obar Bhrothaig '22

Every year I look forward to the sixth-of-April anniversary of the Declaration of Arbroath, and this time was no exception. It's one of the special days of the year for me, when I do some festive / leisure things I don't usually do, reassess my backlogs / to-do lists and so forth.

Well, in the end it didn't exactly work out that way this year.

In the end I was so feeble I did only a very few of the usual things. Instead, towards the evening, I finally faced reality: I just couldn't cope on my own any longer. So I decided to accept the doctor's advice and apply for a place in a hospice, and mailed Black to make the apropriate steps.

Funny thing is, this is what I'd been wanting to do for some months now, but until recently saw no way of accomplishing it. In an odd way I'm looking forward to the experience.

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Actually not really a busy day, yet quite a few achievements: Backed up hard drive's Docs folder (after almost 3 months rather than my usual 1). Shaved my bottom lip & my moustache's overgrowth (after weeks). Finished clearing Anki's English deck backlog (took about a fortnight). Got another food delivery, including: ice cream (had one during unpacking), Strongbow cider (for 6/4), leek (bought 1st time in my life), [unpeeled] tatties (ditto), cream for bedsores, ... in fact gave the guy a 10% tip and don't regret it. Ay, all in all a successful day.

Womanspreading

There's all this talk about 'manspreading' ... It would be hypocritical of me to pretend I don't occasionally witness it, but I'm positive I encounter what I call 'womanspreading' much more often. You know what I mean: a female occupies one seat with her buttocks, one to her side with her handbag, often the one to her other side with another bag, crosses her legs so that the upper one almost touches the opposite seat, and when you want to pass through the aisle, effectively blocked in this way, she gives you a hateful look saying 'How dare you inconvenience me?'

And don't even start me on 'womansplaining' about how lacking all men are in the emotional department ...

Citation de René Fallet: La soupe aux choux

 

On ne trinque pas tout seul. On boit sans amitié, sans rien, comme une vache, et ça, ça oui, c'est mauvais, si mauvais qu'il n'y a même pas plus mauvais au corps.

(p 28)

Du moins, c'est que je pensais adolescent et un peu après. Plus après, j'ai trouvé que, dans certaines circonstances, un bon livre, ou même juste mes propres pensées, peuvent être une compagnie aussi bonne que les gens.

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Another busy, busy day: unplanned visit by Black with more info (also leading to my getting some PEG food again, high time too, the tube was getting blocked), planned visit by sister to bring me my washed laundry and prepare more food for me (also leading to a long talk about my attitude towards my parents - as usual, it being in speech rather than in writing, I probably didn't put my thoughts across very precisely), an email from Rob deserving a reply, and of course other tasks (leaving little time for eating & drinking).

[Added the next day: In the end I only went to sleep at 2am - which was good, because just before that I had a smoke on the balcony and heard, probably after some years, the morning chorus again.]

Last winter's snow

For quite some time I was lamenting the lack of snow throughout the winter, at least as compared with my younger days. Still, during the last few months there was more frequent and longer-lasting snow than for several years. The only drawback was that, in accordance with Sod's law, this happened just at the time when I was mostly too weak to be able to leave the flat even for the shortest stroll, so couldn't enjoy it as much as I would have otherwise. And whether or not I'll see next winter is anybody's guess ...

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Another hard day, although not as hard as I'd been afeared. Black (who also restarted my disability pension application) and my sister met at my place for the first time, and we were all met for the first time by a doctor and a nurse (both female) from a palliative care team. Basically they were mostly just learning about me, and the three of us about what can be provided by them and what by others. Doesn't seem all that hopeless, even for later when I'm terminally bedridden. For the time being the main task is eating more - something I've known for months I should be doing; now my sister tries to help me to actually accomplish it.

Darren McGarvey's Class Wars

One of the best documentaries I've seen in the last few years. In these four hour-long episodes, Mr McGarvey explores how important social class is in today's Scotland, examining the topic from a lot of various angles (from accent to postcode lottery, from crime to sport, from grouse shooting to zero-hour contracts ... whatever aspect you can think of, he probably looks at it) and talking about it with many people directly involved, whether professionally or by a particular personal experience.

His conclusion is depressing: however changed in shape (with landed gentry superseded by financiers and so on), class distinctions are as real today, and social mobility as pathetic, as they were one or two hundred years ago. (Which makes his personal, likewise documented, struggle with his own identity of a former working-class rapper, who based his career on being vocal against social inequality and the middle class, but who now finds he's turned middle-class himself, all the more difficult.)

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Tried to eat some salami - partly wanted to feel in my mouth some tougher consistency than biscuits &c again after several days, partly reasoning red meat might be good for my erythrocytes. Not a success: the sensation was pleasant indeed, but after just three of those thin factory-pre-cut slices I threw it up again. Well, at least I've tried, which is more than I manage on most of these days, at least food-wise.

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Abair latha ... Black began mailing and requesting timeous replies as early as half ten in the morning (when I'm usually still fully or at least half asleep) and kept doing so; there were other mails too; in addition my sister unexpectedly phoned me in the afternoon ... little wonder I had hardly any time or energy left for drinking, eating or laptop in the meantime, mostly just resting in a recumbent position instead. But it seems things are at last moving somewhere, on more fronts than one.

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Quite recently I've begun watching iPlayer programmes again - as in sitting and really watching, rather than just having them on as background noise to hear the language(s) of Eden. Funnily, but perhaps inevitably, it turned out I consequently lack the time for reading books, so without meaning to stopped completely, although as usual I'm into a few. It's as if books (arguably my surest pleasure) turned into my Lenten sacrifice, and I was dedicating the time to whittling down the exorbitant to-do list related to my laptop and 'non-virtual' life.

[Added 19/3/22: Later I indeed decided to not read fiction as my Lenten sacrifice.]

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Toiseach na dàrna seachdaine, and it doesn't feel like I've made any progress. I've surely been trying, but not achieving. True, I'm spending more time on laptop, but still not near enough; much more importantly, for all my attempts and intentions my liquid intake has scarcely risen, I probably spend as much time just lying as I had before, and likely I eat even less. So my hypotension and general feebleness remain unabated and permanent.

Japanese ambient

For a few days I've been trying to find some background Japanese music on YouTube ... and failed. Oh, there are loads of it - but not the kind I was after - something that would make a good backdrop for a leisurely stroll in an ornamental garden (Japanese or not) or some similar situation, the way some Baroque music can. I know it exists (occasionally I hear fragments in this or that TV documentary), but all I could find was at best good for meditatiton, and mostly too soporific even for that.

Brussels sprouts & fussy eaters

During the festive period I was led to a slightly oldish article claiming that Brussels sprouts were no longer the most hated British food. Now I was surprised that they had been that in the first place; I was never offered them myself, but I was given to understand they're as much a part of the English Christmas dinner as neeps are of the Scottish Burns' supper.

Of the 'current' top ten I like gherkins, tuna and some other fishes, chicken and red meat, while I don't care about olives and prawns and wouldn't eat mushrooms unless forced to by violence. Overall it's reassuring there are so many other 'fussy eaters'. (There are things I wouldn't eat simply because of how they look.) I see no reason why you should like anything that's served to you: that would be like being one of those who 'like' any kind of music, meaning they actually don't care what's being played as long as there's some noise.

John A. Yilek: History of Norway

A succinct description of the country's development from the first settlements to the current century, ideal for those who have so far only heard or read about the Vikings. Sometimes the languages slips a bit into resembling more a transcript of a junior high school lesson than of a lecture for adult public (and indeed where most writers would probably present a table with some demographic statistics, the author prefers to narrate some historical anecdote or a tale about a particular person), but not really annoyingly so. My only two quibbles are too much space dedicated to WWII, and numbering of monarchs with Arabic, rather than Roman, numerals (in an English text, "King Harald 5" looks more like the name of a third-rate Hollywood fantasy movie than of the current monarch).

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Insomnia all through the night; at 6am finally gave in and started preparation for the latest brilliant idea to help my psychosomatic state: using laptop in bed. I'd always considered this rather decadent, but given that for all practical purposes I'm a disabled person now, it seems justifiable. (Later eventually dozed off and after actually began using the laptop again (not mailboxes yet tho)).

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My sister's birtday so still taking it easy: didn't want to risk her needing, instead of celebrating, to have to take care of me if I finally collapsed. Also, a third day in a row with basically no laptop - had tried on Monday but the moment I sat down to the desk and looked at the screen I got such vertigo I needed to immediately return to bed. (These recent 'posts' are handwritten in a paper notebook, to be transcribed into this blog later.) Still, did a wee bit of tidying up.

Gabriel Chevallier: Clochemerle

Où c'est de la satire politique / sociale, il est drôle. Où c'est de la satire sur les liaisons sexuelles (c'est-à-dire, fornications), il est ennuyeux. Malheuresement, environ le troisième quartier du livre paraît comme que l'auteur n'écrive que de baiser.

 

Citation:

Mais le curé Ponosse est doué de cette obstination des natures faibles, qui sont capable des grands efforts pour défendre leur tranquillité.

(de Augustin Ponosse, p 179)

Oui, c'est moi. Capable de faire beaucoup pour ne devoir rien faire.

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Coincidentally Là Naomh Daibhidh agus Pancake Day, but terrible: hypotension so bad I could hardly stand up for a few secs without feeling I was about to faint. (Basically no laptop and minimum food intake as well.) Suspect it's 1) too much time in recumbent position and 2) permanent dehydration, so resolved to make rehydration & drinking enough for the time being the utmost priority.

Pseudo -zazen

I'm not actually practising zazen, or trying to. But I do spend a lot of time 'sitting quietly, doing nothing', letting my thoughts ramble here, there and everywhere, only trying to divert them when I notice they are getting too morbid, or notice myself beginning to wallow in self-pity.