Saturday, 8 April 2017
In which Nana has a theory...
Presumably, the dimpled, varicose, gargantuan One of the present is deemed too alarming for the great unwashed.
Ah well, following a v pleasant afternoon with Nana, I now learn that I've lost my 'oomph' as well as my looks. And, do you know what, Dear Reader, she's right.
I've been like a vast galleon adrift in a sea of sorrow for so long now that I'm not sure if I can navigate my way back to shore.
Sometimes I glimpse dry land, but then seem to drift aimlessly around the doldrums again following even the slightest setback.
Where has the devil-may-care One of old gone, and will she ever return?
I'm such a misery guts now it's no wonder people avoid me.
I used to bounce around like a geriatric Tigger, charging headlong from one disaster to the next without a care in the world with the mantra, 'I don't worry about things that I can't do anything about.'
Maybe it's just the passage of time, or the years of dragging my flolloping flab to and from a never ending stream of menial jobs that's defeated me?
Maybe I just miss Boy?
Nana has a theory and I hope to goodness she's wrong.