A near miss.

I was right to be worried for my friend on the oil rig. He knew two of the men who died and had planned to have a beer with them over the weekend when he got home. He had to fly back to Aberdeen a few days after the crash and before the bodies had been recovered. He is not sure what to do next. There is no money anywhere else but this was close to home.
I was glad he called even though I knew he was safe. He is a special friend- he told Herrad she would love me a year before we met. Herrad being the woman she is tried not to like me when he introduced us. She eventually had to agree with him.

Maggie Smith and Kenneth Wlliams

Two of my favourite actors perform for the author- Betjeman is not a favourite poet but he was such a nice one.


When I first posted I left an N out of Kenneth- I can still hear him squawking in outrage. I have never got to see either in a theatre- still a chance with Maggie and I will take it if ever it comes. I am quite star struck with the lovely Ms. Smith.

I must keep going!

Today I aim to keep myself as positive as I can manage. We started the day with Herrad crying from pain physical and mental. It is part of my responsibility to her to create the atmosphere she needs to sustain her emotionally. In the last few days I have not been able to do this. Depression is a disease I suffer from just as MS is a disease Herrad suffers from. Sometimes her MS affects my depression and sometimes my depression affects her MS. Today Jack Russell therapy combined with massage and thc soon had us enjoying the April sunshine streaming through the windows. The radio offered us the twin delights of ranting against the new Bishop of Westminster (RC top dog in England) and a lovely programme about Laurence Olivier and the founding of the National Theatre. BBC Radio 4 can be fun!
Thanks for the encouraging comments. They help. I use this space to let go when it is going bad for me. It is part of making it better. As I write out my woes I find them less daunting. I am right to feel fear and sadness in a scary sad time. It is not stylistic that I usually end with a lighter remark. When I read back my grim tale I find it a little funny and I can not take things quite as seriously. Even in the worst days Herrad and I spend more time laughing than crying. Thanks for the support but do not worry: Herrad and I are still a strong team.

Carry on screaming

Well I am getting a bit less down. I have tried to exercise and do some nice things and look at the good and everything but it does not really help. I managed to do some maintenance on my bike and it is working a bit better and that gives me an up.
I am always depressed, only sometimes I can not control the emotional impact it has on me. I have to get my shit together and I will. Not because I want to but because I have to. By choice I would sit by the side of the road and cry till I died. In fact I will work very hard to make this home a happy place to be. To some extent I will succeed.

Miserable git.

I have not had anything to blog for a few days 'cos I am feeling too low to share. Maybe turning fifty next week is getting to me. I do not want to celebrate but that is not an option with a Trinidadian in the house.
I was thinking about people congratulating me for being born and managing not to die yet and it all seemed such an obscenity. I am not happy to be alive and I was not wanted when I was born... and I got a puncture and it rained and... (distant whining voice fading to infinity)
I know there is some one worse off than me: she has to live with me! I'll go and be nice to her for a bit now- she will make it all seem worth while again.

A relief for me but not for others.

The list of the victims of the helicopter crash in the North Sea yesterday has been published. I scanned the list and to my relief my old friend's name was not on it.
Sixteen other workers died. Some one else's mate.
I knew a man who died in the Piper Alpha disaster. He was the patriarch of a huge family and the biggest tough guy in the pub. A horrible blond perm and a sovereign ring on every finger. His family were shattered when they lost him. His sons did not carry themselves with the confidence they had when the big man was around. His wife never left the house for months.
Sixteen families will be so sad this weekend. I am glad that it is not the Brycelands. My heart goes out to those who did loose a loved one in Wednesday's crash.

Spring is on the way!

Good news yesterday from the doctor. The wound is healing and we will be starting the long process of getting Herrad sitting up and going out in sunshine.
I find my self humming this as I go round the house.

Silver in the Stubble
(Sydney Carter)


Early in the Morning,
Hear the razor roar,
There's silver in the stubble
And it wasn't there before.

For the leaves are getting greener,
And spring is on the way;
Girls are getting prettier
And younger every day.

Silver in the stubble;
Winter in the wood.
Fare you well, you wicked world,
I'm going to be good.

Time to think of Heaven;
Time to think of Hell.
Time to go to church on Sunday,
Hark, I hear the bell.

But if any girl is willing,
She only has to say;
I'll hang my halo on a shelf
Until another day.

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Written by Sydney Carter in 1964
Copyright Sydney Carter