ping pong

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Ping Pong! Sport of Kings! a game of kaleidoscopic genius and waft spin nifty pzzazz!… went with new christams pressie paddles (…and offspring!) for a game in seaford
i’m a black belt! there was a puddle bog down my end, where’s Walter Raleigh when ya need him? but nowt can cramp my style, it did tho make for a few arm windmilling stuck in the mud comedic lunges
my top spin overhead pummel smash is a pulsating thing o’beauty… a rare thing of beauty, only works once in ten attempts, but, boy, bedazzle good when it comes off… kersplatt! phooo weee!
braggadoccio*… lets face it apart from chess, juggling, tiddlywinks, petanque… none of which will feature in the olympics… i’m not good at many sports, so best applaud myself for what talent i posess.
stepping aside, momentarily, from the brouhaha of words… spent way too much time on my own this year, obvious reasons, gratitude for any fun and connection
if there are any new years resolutions to be had, best we are all supportive, patient and kind to each other xx
crikey, this drear lockdown winter is a longwinded slog, obvs if boredom and glumness is all i’ve got to complain about, then things are going very well
inertia, i tend to oscillate twixt a comfortable soporific sloth and a lacklustre, docile apathy… almost, but not quite the same thing… tho, yes, interspersed with the occasional yelp pang of dismal loneliness… rubbish
still new year, same old me… i’m going to take up a new hobby! body popping! esperanto! hula hooping! didgeridoo! wearing silk cravats! writing left handed! the peruvian nose flute! speaking only in iambic pentameter and limericks! all of the above?
nope cannae be bothered, back to bed, wake me up when tis spring
*braggadocio, oh, i’d always assumed it was italian, and that the docio bit was some smoothe sweet talking to oofset the preening arrogance, but nope apparently ‘of pseudo italian coinage, from spensers faerie queen (1594)’…dictionaries are brill

christmas day swim

birthday

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woken by the soft patter of plump raindrops against the loft windows
the sound of soothe… restless thought subsides, eases to fall into step with the rhythm… the beat of what? popcorn static

heartfelt thanks for all the messages, cards, presents, chats and phone calls (what on earth is a ‘birthday story’!)
many small acts of cherishing, the generosity of friends and family… i am blessed!
to those who missed it… due to the swamp of busy-ness, else the harrumph of neglect… this is normal, it is fine, no matter… plus there is still time!
… and even to those few, ha, who sit in judgement (we all do it)… aah ‘what dragon ate your heart?’… kindness a direction, gentleness a prompt… all is grand
think that covers all of you?

i had a mellow day, hanging out with daughter, met 2 friends in town, swam in the vastness of the sea, just after the rain storm… it may not look inviting, but the most luxuriant of sea swims… a lovely day

…. and as i’m in a wafflesome mood….
woke up this morning, 55 and 1 day, i am closer to 70 than i am to 40… and 40 is, of course, drear ancient!
this tho is a good place to be! somewhere, who knows how far, along the plateau of middle age
a beautiful (and long winded) persistence of form
man is unusual in having a lifespan that often extends long after the brouhaha of breeding, child rearing… and even career
i am curious as to why this is?
elbow aside some of the insistent demands of remorseless forward… make space to ponder
who are we?
ha, i’ve not a blooming clue!… but as a simple cancerian prone to nostalgia.. here are 2 photos
me, now, sitting amongst my kingdom of tomatoes and courgettes
and one from when i was 21, brimful of youth… my lovely californian friend, sarah, sent this snap of a snap over yesterday… the frisson of never having seen it before! marooned in time
we hitched up the east coast of oz, sydney to cape trib and back… rain forest, snorkelling above the reefs, immense overnight truck rides of gabble and half sleep through the endless bush… kipping on beaches… and in strangers homes
adventure
life is but deepening into the groove
all is beautiful

target

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Omm merge with the target, the wind, the subtle, miraculous beauty of the entire universe… Guffaws always help! A brilliant crimbo pressie I ‘got for my sis’.. remarkably satisfying the thwack when you occasionally hit the target… in this case my pink flamingo boxer shorts hanging up 20 feet away