I don’t fair well in this heat, I would have hoped that by this hour (11.39pm) I would be feeling a bit cooler, but I’m not, I’m still just as hot, this heat seems to accentuate every detail in my clothing, each seem, label, strap and fastening seem so much more cruel then usual despite sticking to cotton and linen. The constant perspiration is also upsetting my karma, despite using copious amounts of deodorant, showering, and hair washing I feel as though I am dirty and foul smelling. (In reality I probably don’t but it feels that way) When it gets this hot it just makes my tics worse, so I’ve done the sensible thing and tried to avoid my tic triggers – people, so it’s been just me and Sasha. Like me poor Sasha just wasn’t designed for this heat, like me she’s suffering, if there’s anything worse than being a human with TS in this heat it’s being a Russian Blue, ( elegant grey puss cats that originate from Archangelsk, Russia that have a beautiful plush double coat – that’s how come she’s called Sasha ) I did consider taking a leaf out of her book, follow her lead in finding a cool place to sit but I don’t fancy the idea of lying underneath a neighbour’s car. I’m usually not that concerned about the weather, I take the forecast with a pinch of salt and like any other non-English person wonders what the fascination/obsession with the weather is all about. When I first left home I moved from Llanelli, which is on the South Wales coast, in the bottom easterly corner of one of the wettest counties in the UK, Carmarthenshire, basically in Llanelli in rains most days, in fact us Turks (that’s people from Llanelli) have a special word for drizzle (that’s pretty good going weather wise) “picking”. When I got to Colchester (unbeknown to me one of the driest counties in the UK) being an ex Army Cadet and Girl Guide I would leave home ready to face whatever weather was thrown at me, so each day I would leave my new home off to the School of Music at Colchester Institute with my bag of books, my viola and of course being Welsh my brolly and mac. When I got there I didn’t stand out, the Head of Strings had a weird recruitment policy so most of the other 1st years came from either South Wales or Northern Ireland, another wet place. Soon us Celts forgot about our brollies, left at home, abandoned in pubs. After about 2 weeks getting used to Colchester, and more importantly the wrath of the Head of Strings (who incidentally came from Merthyr and would shout at anybody/thing within 50 yards) and Chamber Hell we didn’t notice the lack of rain and the place seemed so dry and arid, however one of our lecturers, who was an Essex man (I don’t think he can an escort, he just came from Colchester) would comment on the weather, and each time say something different. A complete waste of time really, a bit like this story.
I do have another couple of silly poems though, one of them inspired by the boss with an accompanying picture. I was going to do it on Photoshop but I couldn’t figure out how, rather like my musical compositions, I have an idea in my mind and sometimes have to find an alternate route to get there – so in this instance a pair of scissors and a Pritstick, but unfortunately the colours on my printer are quite as they should be so Suzanne’s van isn’t as blue as it should be. So here goes…
I one had a boss called Suzanne,
She likes to drive her blue Transit van.
She drove up to space,
And said “I quite like this place”
My boss who now lives in space, Suzanne.
Here’s another silly poem…
There once was a girl called Manon,
She took the bus home to Tregaron,
On got a tiger,
And sat right beside her,
That poor girl who came from Tregaron.
I would like you to note that Ceredigion is a very safe county to visit, and as a rule big cats don’t tend to use public transport very often so the incidences of children being eaten alive by wild animals is very rare, even in Lampeter.
Totally fed up.
Anxiety or something more?
Living in the Past!?