Shocking

 

(Image by Heiko Stein from Pixabay)

I never thought I was somebody who could be easily shocked but perhaps I am. Certainly my scream this afternoon drew a crowd of one, as Mister E came running to establish the cause of my distress. It was a mouse!

Yes, I know it was more frightened of me than I was of it, but emptying a large plant pot in the garden I was not expecting to be confronted by something with 4 legs and a tail. In true feeble style, I did what generations of ladies before me have done and let out an enormous squeal.

Perhaps I'm becoming jittery. Is that a common feature of retirement? I've no idea why it should be but I certainly jumped when a firework display began at the top of the road this evening. Of course, "Remember, remember the 5th of November," I thought, although I confess that I had momentarily forgotten, meaning that the sound of the explosion in the sky startled me.

As a child I used to really love the whole Bonfire Night tradition. Now in 2021, it seems almost absurd to be celebrating the detection in 1605 of the Gunpowder Plot and consequently the preservation of Parliament and a Protestant King. I mean that's over 400 years ago and whilst I have no hankering for the divine right of kings, the Government hasn't been doing much to enhance my faith in our democratic institutions of late either. In fact one might even suspect that it is hell-bent on overturning them and finishing the job Guy Fawkes and his fellow conspirators started.

As for the fireworks themselves: should I enquire as to the obvious and ask if they are good for the planet and the global climate crisis? Perhaps it's not the greatest look to be lighting up the sky with explosives when Cop26 is in session and is actively seeking international commitment for the reduction of greenhouse gases.

 However, the biggest shock of the last few days  arose when I went to grab my hiking boots, having decided that a short stroll in the countryside might be a good recuperative exercise for the knee problem. Now I already knew I had worn down the tread of their soles, leading to a record of slipping and sliding in wet conditions and the need for remedial action. What I wasn't ready for was the complete parting of sole from boot. Well I'm not quite there, but it does look as though my boots might be heading for the great boot graveyard in the sky, having elicited the cost of repairing them (another traumatic bolt)!

All of which brings me onto my heart. Perhaps the trauma of daily life is having an effect because there I was in severe pain across my chest last night, thinking that if this is how my life must end then at least it's been a good one. Fortunately for me a couple of indigestion tablets cured the problem and I now patiently await the next bombshell to disturb the equilibrium.