headphones

I have heard that many times over the past few days. Although anything technological terrified me in the past, I have become somewhat of a master. There is no son around to call on anyway and, even if there was, we are shielding so nobody can cross our threshold, and for some time to come.

I think this ‘terror’ of tech was really me hiding in the cupboard. After all, nobody knows how to do anything until they’ve tried it often enough to know the ropes, at the very least. Then daily, or regular practice illuminates each step like a new sun rising. Before too long, a person could be running through the whole process, one eye closed, eating toast and singing along to a chart topper, and still meeting success. Like replacing a knob on a nicker drawer, for example, or pruning roses. It is very easy to shrug away anything with which we have no experience, and no desire to gain such. But, when the roses are preventing entrance through the front door, or the nickers to which I need access are locked down behind a knobless drawer, needs absolutely must. At that moment, a part of my brain, the knob/pruning part kicks into life, one I have never accessed before. It was this way with the new bluetooth headphones for himself. This woman kept on about being ready to pair until I finally shut her up (hope I never get to meet her for real) and paired successfully.

It thinks me. Life requires all of us at some time or another to be Ready to Pair. Not just in a relationship that begins with excitement and euphoria but at times when all that squishy stuff fades into routine, arguments about nothings and other generalities, family commitments and the gardener off sick. There is almost nothing we cannot do, after all, if we bring our brain into the mix and take a baby step. Lockdown and shielding has to be thanked for thrusting me into the confident knowledge of many heretofore areas of terror. There is nobody here to do this thing but me. This thing cannot be parked, nor ignored. This thing has to be done. This thing needs me to get off my backside and engage, like I have never had to do before. And, there is a mighty thrill in achievement, even if I am the only one mightily thrilling. The euphoria of success over self is one everyone should seek for it comes with a medal, loud applause and a warm fuzzy that never leaves. I have achieved mastery over self! Well, maybe only over a knob and some rampant roses, but the ripple effect of both masteries keep spreading out. Being able to access my nickers without having to employ a flat screwdriver and a skewer is dizzying and the front door now opens onto the garden instead of Sleeping Beauty’s 100 year abandoned palace. It was I who made the change.

We all know where we want to be and where we don’t want to be, but I have found that the discontent of the latter can consume a person. What we might not ‘get’ is that in order to move on from this latter requires just one baby step. Then another, and another until one day the sun comes out and our path is illuminated by a new sun. Good heavens, how on earth did I get here? You did, I did, by emerging from the dark cupboard of terror and saying to myself ‘I’ve got this!’

I am Ready to Pair.

So, yesterday was all about love and cards and flowers and romantic dates. For some. Me……..? Well, I busied myself with the craft of housekeeping and caring right up to the evening, my favourite time of day (or is it night?) when the northern hemisphere teeters on the cusp of transition. It’s time for a shower, to put the tatties on to boil, to gee up the woodburner and to check the garage door is shut against Dennis. He could flip that old thing into matchsticks, taking out several solid things in passing, the way he is growling behind the sky.

On this cusp, after delivering a meal to himself as he sits encased in his pyjamas, his ears clamped shut inside the headphones, some TV series playing out on his screen, silent mouths moving in a dialogue to which I am not privy, I return to the kitchen, light myself a candle or two and pour a glass of wine. Happy Valentine’s I told myself and myself smiled. I love myself enough not to bother about such lovey dovey nonsense. I could clean the faces of the kitchen units; I could have another shower; I could sweep up the crumbs or I could go to the pub. Which is what I did. The kitchen unit cleaning thing almost got me. I had tunes playing and candles flickering shadows up the walls and it all looked rather pretty until I put on my specs and noticed that there was more to cleaning the units than I had thought heretofore. Some reddish blobs had the chutzpa to stick themselves right across one door and there was much dust along the horizontals. Blow that. This is not evening work. It was a quick shift into a jacket and boots and off I toddled, giving Growling Dennis a quick and filthy look en route.

It was fun. Fun is what I love best and the one thing that isn’t always available here unless I fun the flames of it all by myself. I’m pretty good at it, though I say so myself. By the time I left, I had hugged old mates, commiserated, reassured, discussed the excitement of historical geology and understood better the palaver involved in building a new house on an island already drunk on rain. Conversation and communication in a life that has lost so very much of both are as welcome as 12 red roses any day.

When I was a recalcitrant and bloody-minded teenager I sent myself valentine cards. It saved anyone else the bother, after all, and guaranteed that I wasn’t the sad girl without a boyfriend, horribly visible in the school playground, awash with shame and certain that she has terrible breath. Nowadays I believe boyfriends are highly overrated. It all starts out rosy but mostly that’s where it begins to stop. I heard of someone who was incandescent about not getting a card from her husband. I held in a smile because if that is how he feels about her then its better out in the open. Others keep the flame burning, I know that. I met a couple of them last night, still dancing and planning to dance right up to the end of love.

And I smiled at that too.