My Musings
Welcome to My Musings
As well as being an artist, I fancy myself as a bit of a writer. So expect to see short stories appear here, as well as musings. And the stories will be short, about a cup of coffee's worth!! Indulge me.
03 June 2025Feet and inches
I've often thought that if I ever broke my ankle, I would really be scuppered. You see, I've always been an active person with quite a few Munros + some long distance walks, under my belt. Nowadays, I still love country walks - which is a blessing with two active terriers!
I don't stand about much - besides in front of my easel, where I can be in the moment for an hour or two but, just like a tradesman or diyer, has to 'measure twice, cut once', I have to 'be initially spontaneous, then step back and consider what I'm trying to communicate'. So I'm not standing still for that long.
I'm impatient in a queue, hopping from foot to foot - unless I can zone out and think about something interesting. Time is pressing and all that.
I've usually taken care to walk confidently but deliberately, to protect my feet. Not in a Michael (Riverdance) Flately way - I haven't insured my feet for £25 million, or anything like that!
So, that said, it came as a complete surprise when I broke my toe.
When I lived in Inverness, I had accepted a lift home from my dance class, by my dance partner. He had a big old white van, which he probably slept in, 'cos he lived a good distance from Inverness, and his gubbies (rubbish) were all over the front seat - including his old Yorkshire terrier.
It's funny how unaccommodating I was with canines before I had my own two!
Despite me surreptitiously pushing her aside, wee Emma was determined to sit only on my lap. She didn't care about the loose doghairs falling onto my fancy dance dress, or about that warm old-dog smell that was being pressed into it. And she didn't care that my 10 denier tights were being dotted like a collander with her sharp claws, and were maybe allowing access to those fleas she was constantly itching?
All in all, it was a fretful journey.
In my haste to get out at my stop, opening the door and quickly stepping into the footwell, my foot stepped onto a glass lemonade bottle that had somehow rolled into the space, and although I tried to regain my balance, I fell onto the pavemant in a clumsy heap. I refused an offer of help. I was okay, I smiled and waved and, once the van was out of sight, I dragged my right leg behind me and limped into my flat.
My old neighbour twitched her nets and probably surmised that I'd had a good night on the town, and was stumbling home steaming drunk!
I thought a good night's sleep would mend it, but when that didn't happen, I reluctantly had to bother the doctor.
I was sent for an xray.
A week later, the xray concluded that I had the onset of arthritis on the top of my foot but made absolutely no mention of my toe! I refused to wait for another xray appointment, so I bothered a sports therapist instead. My toe was strapped up and I got exercises to do. Healing would take time.
That accepted, I just tried to increase the distance I walked before the pain flared up big-time. That was 15 years ago, only occasionally now does it bother me. And I still have no pain in the top of my foot where that onset of arthritis was indicated on the xray!
Now, about my big toes....I DO have bunions and my big toes are listing permanently at 45 degree angles, away from each other.
This has happened despite avoiding over-tight pointed-toed shoes with stiletto heels. My Mam had terribly pronounced bunions and she put it down to careless footwear when she went to dances in her youth. Unfortunately, I came to realise that bunions are hereditary, and nothing much to do with shoes.
In my 20s, a Scholl shop assistant, when assessing my feet for replacement sandals, had loudly blurted out, 'You are flat-footed and you have deformed feet and I can't help you!' Well, I was most indignant, 'cos at that point my feet seemed not that unusual - an average size 5, maybe slightly wide? And anyway, how many retail assistants refused to sell you products you were already wearing? She would surely never get promoted being so openly + unapologetically honest?
Besides, my best friend had size 7 feet - long and ugly, big mis-shapen things - yet she was never without a partner at discos. Probably 'cos everyone was captivated by her pretty face + smiling eyes, and their gaze never reached her feet!
Saying all that, my feet have never kept me back. I'm not doddery. And I don't need to steady myself with all the handholds in the shower + I've never felt the need to sit down on the shower seat 'cos I'm a bit peched out with the 2 minute procedure! I always check my wet footprints though - to check if I've got fallen arches.
I have an inkling that I'm getting shorter? I had put it down to those pesky feet again. But maybe there's another reason I'm losing inches?
Another story!
: )
17 May 2025Bird Whisperer
Here's another pic, completed in April, for your perusal - 'The Bird Whisperer'. I'll get details into Gallery 1 next week!
30 April 2025Aesop's Fable: The Highlander and the rubble sacks
Early summer seems to be in close tandem with spring this year. My miniature daffies are still in full bloom and the summer roses are already in bud.
It's almost like the end of April is like mid/late May. Very rarely, in the northern Highlands, do we have temperatures in the late teens in April, but this year we've had a spell of them. And absolutely no light 'April showers' - it's either been a short downpour, or nothing at all! I even had to water the raised beds & tubs because the ground was so dry. I don't usually look out the garden hose until the beginning of June!
So I've had to get a shift on to get some spring cleaning done - before it's too late!
Last year my attempts at spring cleaning verged on the pathetic. I seemed to have been indifferent to the build up of dirt!
However, this year, I set my sights on emptying and cleaning not only the kitchen drawers & cabinets, but also the bathroom ones.
I had allocated one day for the kitchen (2 days tops) and half a day for the bathroom.
One week on + 4 black rubble sacks later, I'd reorganised & cleaned the kitchen to within an inch of its life.
By the following week - now getting bored and leaking enthusiasm from every pore - I reluctantly finished the bathroom too.
In the kitchen & bathroom, I was ruthless. If I didn't know what something was for, or hadn't used it in 24 months, it was binned.
At the back of my herbs and spices cupboard, I found 4 unopened wee bottles of whole cloves. In fact, there were many duplicates, triplicates and, apparently, quadruplicates of stuff! That sorted, I should now be able to open the cupboard without all the jars tsunami-ing towards me!
And what's with all the containers of 1p and 2p coins lurking in drawers and behind things on the worktop? I should count them out, fill some £1 coin bags and take them to the bank. But I've gone a bit jaded now with all that cleaning, so much so, that I can't rely on my brain being able to count up to 50, let alone 100!
Still, I'm rather pleased with myself. And now there's more space to collect and stash some more vintage china, methinks.
I'm just so happy that I don't aspire to a larger kitchen, with even more cabinets to clean out. It's just so easy to accumulate stuff, isn't it?
For instance, I have a big pine wardrobe with in excess of 20 summer tops. But I know how unlikely it is to have 20 super-hot summer days, this far north.
Last year I almost wore a floaty sundress that I'd bought for an exceedingly hot day. There was one quite hot day, but I decided to leave it for an even hotter one. But, alas, it never came!
Also, it's lime green - a brave choice for an older woman, and what if my style is not lime green and floaty this year?
IF, I'd been spring cleaning my wardrobe this year, my hand might have lingered on its hanger. Indecision. Keep it, or not? I'll just see how this summer pans out & reconsider the lime green option then.
Hebe-the-dog and Hector-the-pup have remained unimpressed by the progress in the kitchen - no toys were unearthed, and no stale stray biscuits were uncovered.
So while I was downstairs in the kitchen filling rubble sacks, they were upstairs scooting around the livingroom. When I went upstairs for a coffee break, all my retrained eyes could see was a layer of dog hairs stuck in the carpet and woven into the mats. And when I nonchalantly scraped the fireside rug with my rubber-soled slippers, I managed to gather up mounds of tumbleweed dog hairs. I assume that if I continued doing this over weekly periods, I would have enough to insulate my garden shed!
But sometimes I have to tell myself that cleaning is a thankless never-ending chore, because even if my cottage was spotless, I would absolutely never have any callers then. Invariably, folk arrive when I'm researching stuff with books teetering everywhere, or I'm working on artwork with pastels rolling about everywhere, and dirty dishes are in tottering piles on the kitchen worktop, and wet clothes are drying round the fire in limp rows.
And don't even ask me about the state of my windows. I read somewhere that clean windows allow your outlook - on everything - to be clearer. However, upstairs I have large tilt-and-turn windows. They are super-scary, 'cos when you push them out, and just before they turn-and-tilt (ie when they're horizontal), I always think they're going to snap off their runners and end up in bits in the garden.
And then, as Aesop might ask: how will I fill the gaping hole? I've already used up all the heavy-duty rubble sacks!
Moral: Be careful not to clean too much. And keep some rubble sacks for just-in-case scenarios!
I'm exhausted. Time to chill.
: )
