Hiya Wrider
I've been meaning to find time to post stuff on TMW for weeks now. I've rarely been so busy, though, or so tired. It's all my own fault: I've overcommitted myself in every direction. When I get home after work my evenings are taken up reading magazine copy, writing articles, researching information, giving talks, going to meetings, doing union work or organising events. When I'm spending time on any of that, all I want to do is to cook up a good meal, settle down in front of some some mindless DVD or go to sleep.
For someone whose idea of heaven is either riding into the sunset on a big yellow three cylinder beast or slobbing out on the couch, I seem to have an appetite for this kind of stuff. I've always had poor concentration, so head work does not agree with me. It gets me stressed. So why do I do it? Lots of complicated reasons, I guess.
Years ago, when I was doing a college course I went to a hypnotherapist to see if she could help me concentrate better. She did this guided imagery thing. She put me into trance and then talked me through a series of images. She got me to imagine myself in a giant library where I was studying the contents books in detail with a magnifying glass. I remember that library clearly. Where my imagination dredged it up from, I can't imagine. It was all dark, heavy carved-wood panelling - stuff I hate - very oppressive. Trouble was, the more the hypnotherapist talked me through it, the more uncomfortable I began to feel and the more agitated I became, until without any warning the whole bloody library exploded - the roof blew off and the walls blew up and away away and disappeared, leaving me stading alone on this huge rocky plain with blue mountains in the distance. Then this beautiful white horse came by. I leapt onto her back and we went galloping off across the mesa. I reckon my unconscious was giving me a pretty clear measage: you don't need this "poo poo"! But it appears part of me does because I keep getting myself saddled with it.
It wasn't long after all this that I bought a new motorcycle - the first I'd had in a fair few years. (Cheaper and faster than horses and easier to maintain.)
This weekend I haven't touched either bike. The SV and the Daytona have just been sitting idle at the back of my house - but I've had a fantastic time. It was my
60th birthday on Saturday.
I've had three great days of eating out; going to the theatre, and enjoying myself with friends. Best birthday I've had in years. Being
60 is like being 50 or 40 or 30, except that it isn't. Don't ask me to explain. If you don't know, I can't tell you. It does mean that I can soon get my over-60 travel pass which allows me to use rail transport to travel anywhere in the country dirt cheap. But why would anyone want to travel on a train when they can go by bike? (Apart from the price of petrol.) OK, maybe it will be useful when it snows hard and I have to go up to Manchester. Gotta be positive about this. And if my work makes me redundant, which it may well do in a few months' time, this might just be the only way I can afford to travel.
Back to work tomorrow. Joy neverending!
Hud