An End to Introspection

Photo by Eileen Pan on Unsplash

Passing through a point in time – a point made all too accessible by advancing age – where every ‘ping’ of the mobile phone heralds news of illness or untimely death, I have found myself becoming (you may have noticed) increasingly introspective.  I have been writing this blog now for four years: originally once a week, then twice, thrice and occasionally four-ice and five-ice and I have grown accustomed to the ebb and flow of it all.  It has always been labelled ‘Humour’ even on the occasions when I knew that it wasn’t funny.  I do try, but occasionally I have to get things off my chest.  Like Ray Alan, I need to vent.  Posting regularly means that I don’t have much scope for writing things that I don’t use.  Whatever comes out of my head will find its way, in time, onto your screen.  It’s not always ideal, but the only thing I have to offer you, dear reader, is me, and I am very often disappointing.

In order to lift myself from this recent slough of despond (literally shed skin in a lake) I have decided to take a closer look at why I started doing this thing in the first place and also why, as I seem unable to write a decent joke these days, I still do it.  The obvious answer is vanity: the narcissism of a man who believes that everyone else wants to know all about him.  (Do I mean narcissism or is that a little yellow daffodil?)  If I’m honest, if you piece together everything I have written over the last four years – although God knows why you would, you could far more profitably pass your time with a jigsaw of The Haywain – you will find that you know far more about me than you would ever want to know.  Having written over half a million words during my tenure – far more than even Jeffrey Archer would lavish on a single subject – I wonder what there is possibly left to tell.

Well, let’s see: I don’t eat meat, I eat far too much chocolate, and the only way you would ever stop me from eating a roasted peanut would be by painting a cute face on it.  I drink far too much wine, ditto gin, ditto whisky and I drink far too little water.  I am sixty three years of age, frighteningly adjacent to sixty four if I’m honest, and most of my clothes, like my beard and my temper are becoming ragged.  I am, none-the-less blessed with huge patience and more empathy than you can shake a stick at – as long as neither is put to the test.  As I write this piece I have something in my eye.  I can’t see it but it feels like a six foot section of 3”x2”.  The only way I can stop it from hurting is to fasten the lid down with a length of sellotape (which I presume should be pronounced seal-o-tape) giving me the impression of being permanently mid-wink.  I think the only cure is wine – but, if I’m honest, it is probably the cure for most ills.  I have a friend who swears that it is the best cure for a hangover, but I have never dared to try it.  Imagine hitting your good thumb with a hammer to cure the fact that you’d just flattened the other accidentally.  I am gullible, but not that gullible.  (Actually, I am.)  I am also the most easily distracted person I know, with the attention span of a… what was the blue fish called in Finding Nemo?

I love people, but am uncomfortable in company and panicky in a crowd.  I am very competitive, but I do have a tendency to give in when I’m winning.  I love silence outside and hate it inside.  Left alone in a house I will often have different music playing simultaneously in three or four rooms, with my mind seemingly able to keep track of them all at the same time.  I am tone deaf like Donald Trump is unpleasant (e.g. very).  I am what I write and what I intend to write here on in will be happy and definitely not introspective – it will possibly be outrospective – because, I have decided, introspection, like the door to a pub, sucks.

And my favourite word is probably widdle.


15 thoughts on “An End to Introspection

      1. I find these days are encored woe & loss. My WordPress started 2013, but I’ve hid old posts & made me less identifiable. You do “~rice” blogs most welcomed. As for in common: I’m meat free & “mmmm yum nom ~ nom ~ nom ~ nom ~ ” enjoy being distracted easily (by 🍫 chocolate). I need to drink more water. Named “Patience” at one point, my empathy / gull… has been me. These days I love, but also dislike people. So I can enjoy or panic. It can swing both ways (steady on) depending on the people. “Opticians my friend, go!”
        Let them 👁️👁️ sort it!

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  1. Having something in your eye is so very irritating! I began blogging 3 years ago, at the urging of someone who seemed to think I could write. I could write letters and these were no longer called for and I was retired and not terribly mobile, so I figured I would give it a shot. I wrote about my cats and a bot about myself but after a year I thought…what on earth am I going to write about now. I considered stopping but then Covid came and I had the absurd notion that if I could get one person to laugh or enjoy a photo of my cats and wild creatures, maybe it would be worthwhile. Somehow I am still posting but I couldn’t say what category I fall in. I allow myself a rant sometimes. One has to. I’ll do less of it if they lock that horrible man up. The unpleasant one you mentioned. Hope you got the log out of your eye.

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    1. It appears to be the shared minutiae that people are most interested in, and we all have plenty of that. Thank you for reading and please keep on writing 😊


  2. There is very little you write here that I don’t enjoy reading. Perhaps, especially with the age things, I identify; I understand what you’re saying. Keep up the good work.
    Still waiting for that podcast with you and Mr. Underfelt.

    Liked by 1 person

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