'Nothing will bring you peace except yourself'
It's been a week of mixed blessings, the highlight being a conversation I had with my granddaughter over dinner one evening last week. We had finished the home-made cottage pie, when my wife asked her if she would like a bowl of custard?.
"Yea Please" came the delighted reply.
At 2 years and 7 months, she is very bright, very inquisitive and very polite, all due to the excellent parenting skills of my step-daughter and her husband. While the custard was being whipped up and prepared, my granddaughter and I had this amazing conversation about music (she loves to sing), her best friends at the nursery and what she enjoys on CBeebies. Tipsy & Tim, Hey Duggee and School Of Roars are high on her list.
With her arms folded and laughing constantly, she was I guess, completely unaware that she was boosting Grandpa's levels of happiness, bringing him joy with chit-chat across the age divide, driving away the pain and loneliness that had me by the throat only a few hours earlier..
Later that evening, I got comfortable and settled in to watch a new blu-Ray DVD I'd purchased, the latest movie by Martin Scorsese, SILENCE. About half way through I began to feel physically sick at the graphic violence that is peppered throughout, bring me to a state of absolute revulsion of this film's depictions of 'mans inhumanity to man', distributed as 'entertainment'.
I was bitterly disappointed and if I had watched this on any other day, the chances of plummeting to depths unknown would have been a near certainty.
So I've issued myself a warning, no more films similar in content to SILENCE.
Yesterday, all the negativity of the previous night was exorcised and disposed of by a morning of glorious amateur photography with my good friend John T. This was the first time I'd carried a camera since giving up my freelance work some months ago. We met in Jubilee Square, Leicester where the late morning sun was beginning to lightly roast my arms and shaven head.
We went for coffee in the fabulous new outlet on Great Central Street, aptly called 'The Great Central Coffee Shop & Bar' and indulged in delicious brews, cakes and muffins. Later we shifted gear and photographed all the closed down railway buildings and pubs in the area, ending up at the site of the 19th century West Bridge Station.
I had come full circle in twenty four hours, downer-joy-downer-joy. I went home downloaded the images to my iMac, mowed the lawn, and made a new drain cover. Sitting in the garden later with a large mug of tea, I gazed upwards at the clear blue sky and the white transparent clouds and whispered a quiet prayer, for the good of myself and the wider world.
Those quiet moments are so important and so necessary to this aging but still functional depressive:).