Don’t really know what to expect of this weekend. The last couple have been somewhat heavy.
Two weeks ago, Hannah was in a show (“Summer Holiday”, put on by Musical Youth). It was an excellent production – consistent and satisfying. But by the time I’d collected her five nights in a row, I was pretty tired.
Then, last Saturday, Musical Youth and enCore had a fundraiser. Entitled “Strictly for Fun”, it was a dance competition – brilliantly put together – and, indeed, fun. And, for our family, the icing on the cake was that Hannah and her partner won the junior event.
So, we’ll see how this weekend goes. To-morrow, we’re introducing the cats to our local vet. Hopefully, they won’t mind going into their travel cages …
[Note: I've started giving people their real names - it seems more natural - so Hannah is the young lady previously known as daughter.]
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Maggi Dawn, interestingly, in “Giving it up”, suggests that Abraham may have been mistaken when he thought that God wanted him to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Not sure what I think, but this photo reminds me of a time when I could well have mistakenly believed that God wanted me to give something up:
I took almost my entire collection of carefully constructed model aeroplanes to be sold at a jumble sale.
Then, a few years ago, at a toy sale, I saw a somewhat weatherbeaten Dinky Vickers Viscount (this type of aeroplane) in the old British European Airways colours. I had one, as a child (it was a diecast metal toy, which I played with before I started building the more fragile plastic models), and I almost bought the one I saw, as a kind of souvenir. But the seed had been sown, and I later bought this one, new, made by Corgi, from a model shop. Since then, I have bought a few models, as space and finances have allowed.
It isn’t quite the same, but it does give me pleasure …
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I saw the psychologist to-day, and we agreed that I can be discharged from the (psychiatric) service. Bittersweet, I guess. I’ve valued our conversations, which have definitely helped me. But it’s good to be making my own way again …
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I’m making an effort these days to contribute to the excellent blipFoto website. To-day’s blip may look sort of familiar to anyone who remembers the Make Poverty History rally in Edinburgh. And if you look back through my blips you may catch glimpses of our feline adoptees …
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Or Bubble and Squeak, or, the latest idea, Cagney and Lacey. Over this weekend, we’ve been visiting Lothian Cat Rescue, with a view to replacing ‘the cat’, who still visits, by the way … As ever, things don’t always work out the way you expect, and we find ourselves the proud owners of two cats, who do have given names, but for whom I’d like to choose stage names. I’m not allowed to call them Palkia and Dialga (because they fight), and perhaps Spitfire and Hurricane is a bit over the top.
They have contrasting characters – Cagney (for now) has been hyperactively exploring the house, while Lacey has been hiding – I guess that we have to give them time to get to know us …
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Tractor Girl’s post has reminded me (and others, clearly) of the Make Poverty History march in Edinburgh, 2005 (incidentally, the only time that I have met TG ‘in real life’). My wristband has adorned this teddy bear (which normally resides in the bathroom) since …
In other news, ‘the cat’ paid us a visit this morning. A bittersweet occasion, particularly when I tried to stroke him, and he sank his teeth into my forearm …
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Not far from the place from which this photo was taken is a house which we once thought about buying. I was in Cockenzie yesterday afternoon, and think that it is quite an attractive village, but it’s difficult not to be conscious of the looming presence of the neighbouring power station …
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I’m currently trying to read “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time“, which is a curious experience. The narrator is an autistic boy, with all sorts of consequences for how the book progresses.
One of the manifestations of my autism is a lack of identity. I’ve often noticed a tendency in myself to adopt the mannerisms of a person I’m with. And this extends to picking up ideas of how to behave from books – with sometimes embarrassing consequences – I used to think that Gabriel Oak’s slavish devotion to Bathsheba Everdene (“Far from the Madding Crowd”) was an appropriate way to express romantic love …
When the character is like me (the real me, which I’ve managed to conceal for so many years), I feel that I’m becoming a caricature of myself. Nowadays, I tend to read novels in small chunks, so will probably manage to finish, but it’s hard going …
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This evening, I shall be participating in a bible study (hopefully). I don’t know what to expect (well, apart from the obvious) …
[What I didn't expect, and has happened: this evening's study has been cancelled.]
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