Bloganuary week 4

I’ve seen fewer Bloganuary posts this year on my feed. (Although, I confess, I haven’t been searching them out.) Last year there were enough to make me curious, although it took a while to sink in.

The prompts have given me something to blog about this month – most of them not topics I would have been moved to write about left to myself.

In that respect, it’s a bit like our monthly writing group story prompts. If I didn’t have those to galvanise me into action, what would I write about?

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22^nd Jan        What was your dream job as a child?

I wanted to be a vet when I was small. I was in my teens when I realised I was too squeamish to be a vet. I can’t even watch graphic murders on TV programmes, even though I know they won’t actually show anything… real.

I don’t think I was particularly squeamish as a child. Maybe I just didn’t realise what being a vet entailed, but I think squeamishness creeps up on you as you get older. I seem to recall being more curious than averse to gore when small.

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23^rd Jan       What’s a lie you tell yourself?

Stop mulling it over, girl. It won’t matter tomorrow. (You’ll have noticed, there are two lies in there…)

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24^th Jan     How do you show love?

I stopped being a cuddles sort of person quite early in life. Cuddles seemed to come along when I wanted to be doing something else… (playing with my toys, dancing to the beat, going to sleep…) One of my daughters, as a toddler, was in the habit of flinging her arms around my legs in a vice-like grip. I regret now my usual response, which was to unclasp them to allow me to go and deal with the crying baby, ringing telephone, boiling pot or barking dogs. There was always something to be getting on with.

Providing food is, of course, a practical expression of love, but the focus with food changes when you get past a certain age. You become more aware that you shouldn’t be providing certain indulgences, however much the object of your affection craves them. (This applies equally to people and to dogs.) Where once I would have offered favourite dishes and treats, I now try to ration these in the interests of health and longevity.

Patience is often a factor these days. I try not to obsess about things the other person (or dog) can’t do anything about, or wouldn’t understand my irritation with. Although patience seems to wear thin as I get older and find myself swearing at inanimate objects that slip between my fingers or hurl themselves at me from high cupboards. I yell at the dogs for barking, making almost as much noise as they do, but I’m less vocally violent with people. (And I’m having to re-learn not to swear when the grandchildren are within hearing, lest they take their new-learned words with them to school.)

Not every expression of love is apparent to the casual observer.

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25^th Jan     What is a song or poem that speaks to you and why?

The Rolling English Road by G K Chesterton has been a favourite since school. Our year were studying Chaucer for GCE and looking at Chesterton for a little light relief. Lepanto sounded almost musical the way our teacher read it to us in her lilting voice, before she explained what it was all about. But it was The Rolling English Road that struck a chord with me, rattling along at a cheerful pace and showing that poetry didn’t have to be serious and require explanation or translation to us soulless fifth-formers.

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26^th Jan    What language do you wish you could speak?

Any second language would be good, just to prove I can… but I don’t have any reason for a preference. I have a smattering of French and even less German from my schooldays, but have never had occasion to use either since then. Or my rudimentary Latin; although that comes in useful sometimes for guessing meanings of words. For the same purpose, since the roots of some English words lie in mediaeval French, perhaps that would be the language I’d choose if a genie offered me a rub of the language lamp. And French sounds more musical than German.

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27^th Jan       What are the pros and cons of procrastination?

Pros? (or vain hope?) that a task ignored will go away.

I live with an arch procrastinator who, I can only assume, hopes that this will be the case. In our past 13 years of marriage this has rarely happened.

Cons? Most problems will get worse if left to blossom into near impossibility. (Such as that pruning that must be done before Saturday and the sunny week descends into downpour on Friday.)

Also, if it is something you want to happen (and a procrastinator will put everything off, not just unpopular tasks) the window of opportunity may close and the possibility lost. (That car in the showroom you’ve been meaning to ask about all week that’s gone when you call in.)

Major con? I may get fed up with waiting and do it myself, and then hubby will regret his tardiness.

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28^th Jan       Describe your perfect birthday cake.

I don’t need to. I can show you the one my neice made for my 70^th birthday.

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I find I’m not editing these as obsessively as my usual posts.

Perhaps I should multi-post more often…

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