Having sunk to the depths of inanity yesterday, conjuring very little from absolutely nothing, Deirdre suggested I might give it a rest today. However blogging has become a compulsion. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse may come roaring down the Common, weaving in and out of the parked cars, politely acknowledging rights of way; the Valkyries might arise from The Dimple and storm up Surgery Lane, but still the Blog must go ahead. So I am resolved to dig even deeper into the pit of trivia today, scratching away in the mud at the bottom with my fingernails until some morsel emerges.
However, my daughter’s birthday is not trivia. I don’t know whether she feels she is of an age where it’s impolite to enquire how old she is, but I do know every year she puts on pushes me ahead at the same ratio into that frightening admission that I have two daughters in their mid ******s. I also have ex-students who are now retired and even Popalong alumni from Crich who are taller than I am and heading for GCSEs. Anyway we made the essential journey to Wirksworth and bounced greetings through the patio door in a sort of conversational tennis. . But we were handed out a glorious slice of peanut-butter, banana and chocolate cake made by 8 year old Mollie with Daddy as sous chef. Sadly, there were no embraces and any kisses had to be blown – making sure of course that the wind direction would not spread any possible infection
Which brings us seamlessly to The Doldrums, and by association to Coleridge’s ‘Ancient Mariner’. I heard a snippet on Radio 4 this morning where a yachtsman said he was about to enter the Doldrums – well shipmate, join the rest of us:
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
Over the last couple of days I’ve felt depression, hopelessness, fear, determination,
positivity, helplessness, tranquillity, excitement, gratitude, relief, resignation, stoicism and occasionally I’ve aspired to indifference. And to crown it all our teapot lid got broken. Notice my use of the passive voice so that blame is not attributed. But in lockdown, how do you replace a teapot lid? I’m too ashamed to ask Amazon! (Please don’t assure us that you have numerous spare teapots all exactly the right size for two mugs and come round stacking them on our doorstep. We got ourselves into this mess and we’ll get ourselves out!)
So back to the birthday. Let’s celebrate love and years, family and time, rattle our teapot lids and share our trivia. As for aging, I’m sure there must be some old flared trousers and a Fair Isle pullover in the loft that still fit me. Theoretically I can still do a jump and click my heels in the air. I’ve just tried it indoors, but we have low beams so it wasn’t a valid trial.