Second Helpings

A Little Whine

I confess I've been a little down and tempted to feel sorry for myself lately. The reasons are many and complicated, but on the surface it's easy to analyse the most obvious ones.

It's hard to ignore the fact that Summer is on its way out. The nights are drawing in, temperatures are dropping, shops are filling up with winter clothes and there are glimpses of the season I love to hate appearing. It's not been the greatest of summers yet again, but it's all flown by too quickly.

Our travelling friends are presently on board the QM2 and it's difficult to accept we are not with them and easy to daydream of all the activities and relaxation they will be enjoying as they sail to the USA. They are keeping in touch when they can, but for them and us it just isn't the same not sharing the experience.

Other friends are either away on holiday or preparing for a cruise around the Mediterranean. I doubt we will be able to go away again this year and I don't want to wish time away or look too far into the future.

Next Tuesday hubby will be having a knee replacement. Obviously he is nervous and we are all concerned due to his history of severe infections. Hopefully all will go well and he will eventually be more mobile and in a lot less pain. Selfishly, the prospect of hospital visits, clacking crutches and caring responsibilities yet again aren't helping with optimism.

Also because of his hospitalisation it means I will miss one of my favourite outings of the year. Perfect timing in the worst way has always been one of my talents.

But when we watch the news and hear of terrible accidents, tragic losses, man's inhumanity to man and other creatures, inequality, corruption, perversion, poverty and desperation it serves to remind me of the many ways I am fortunate compared to others. So nothing for it but to just get on with things and quit whining. It may be ostrich syndrome, but while hubby is in hospital I shall try not watch the heartbreaking news from around the world, but rather indulge in some escapism films, a few glasses of vino and my rare control over the remote.