Wandering

Wandering backwards and forwards on crutches to the bathroom and my armchair. I can’t help remembering when I was younger. We would set out on a cycle ride or a walk. We used to visit the North of Manchester, around the pennines. Into Wales and see spectacular mountains. Up to Yorkshire and around Ingleborough. Up steep slopes on our bikes then down one long winding valley that took us seven miles back down to our campsite (I was pleased with my map reading that day).

Being ill or injured is difficult. I can’t ignore it, but I guess I have to be a patient patient! But I want to do simple things like washing up. When I can support my weight I will, then cook, the eventually I will have to tidy up, hubby is trying, but he doesn’t quite get organisational ideas. Like putting shopping in the fridge safely! Or how to cook chicken when you have never done it in your life! Time heals I guess.

I wish I was out and about, that I could just stand at the sink and do the washing up. But I guess it’s less than five days since I pulled a ligament in my foot and about eight since the car door slammed into my other leg and cut a hole in it.

Meandering

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I sometimes start a blog on one theme and for some reason meander off in a completely different direction. Like a river meanders randomly, curving one way then the other.

Curving frequently, tributaries joining,

Increasing the flow, sinuous,

Like a snake, swallowing its own tail,

In places becoming, forming  through sediment,

A famed oxbow lake, a tiny part of the whole, trapped and landlocked.

When it reaches the sea all its strength is dissipated.

Numerous streams wander a delta down to the water.

Seagulls trim their wings

And fly fiercely overhead.

My story meanders again,

As a gull steals my chips ……

I started at point A, wove around and ended at point B. Strange how like a journey we can be transported by words, drift along into a story or a song… .