THE MISLAYING OF WELLNESS

I do appear to have mislaid my wellness this weekend. Ironically, ever since I took that long, healthy walk in the woods last week, bits of me seem to have been falling apart and I’ve started to feel like the old man I’ve been suspecting that I’ve started to resemble for quite some time now. Various muscles are screaming at me about how sore they are, whilst others appear to have developed an astonishing need to lie very still and not be called upon for any activity if I would be so kind.

In many ways, it feels just as if I’ve been rattling around inside a tumble-dryer for some time and now could do with a bit of a rest. Meanwhile that sharp wit and mental acuity for which I am so well-renowned (well, in my mind, anyway) seems unable to focus on anything other than watching coloured balls roll across tables whist wise old heads burble on about kissing the pink and touching the brown.

My usual televisual routines, my epic revisit of a television classic across what seems like a mountain of shiny discs has stalled because the brain seems incapable of being bothered by it and, unusually, seems to have taken to preferring to lie in bed of a morning rather than be stimulated by a TV screen or, whilst we’re at it, be bothered stringing sentences together to tell the world what I’m thinking.

Sentences and paragraphs dash to the forefront of my mind only to scatter like bunnies in a field who’ve heard there’s a fox about whenever I try to weld them together into some kind of form for your amusement, edification and delight.

Or whatever…

Half thought-out ideas remain unfinished in the “drafts” folder, already becoming less and less relevant as time passes, but the words and the thoughts dance around inside my mind without ever really coming to any conclusion other than it really doesn’t seem worth the effort in trying to corral them and get them to make some sort of sense.

Yesterday, I reached for a sachet of Lem-Sip, specifically designed for “mucus coughs” and that seemed to help for a while, even though mucus doesn’t seem to have climbed very high up the unwellness agenda, but the aches and pains did scuttle away for a while.

There are those who believe, of course, that this is just inevitable, that the fallout from the events of the past couple of years were bound to catch up with me, and, as we approach one final hurdle with the disposal of assets, the sense of loss and parting with my past is bound to make the system feel vulnerable and the mental elastic was bound to snap after having been under strain for so very long.

Well, that’s as maybe. All I know is that I’m going back to bed.