The sweeter the tune.

I feel like we are all living this wretched nursery rhyme at the moment. Levels, graphs, numbers are at the forefront of our minds morning, noon and night.

Every year I have an opinion about imperfect Christmas trees, premature decorations, too early celebrations. This year, unpredictably, tragically, everything has changed…

Maybe it’s the story-teller in me, or the Irish, but I’ve always been prone to over-hyping any account of my experiences. You know, the reality of a few minutes becomes hours and hours. If an eye witness is present, then that wrecks it. But, in their absence, the sky’s the limit. My dad was always the best at this, ignoring mum’s eye roll and making the telling bigger and bigger every time.

Do you ever have a moment, a short time, even a day, when you think, maybe life is not so bad after all?

Just take each moment as it comes.

There’s a Swedish expression, ‘no cow on the ice’. Back in the old days, the cows of Scandinavia were allowed to roam outside all year round. Farmers would make a hole in the ice for them to drink. Sometimes a cow’s forelegs would fall through the thin ice and the farmer would have to pull them out by their tail. ‘No cow on the ice’ means, don’t stress, things are going to be ok.

To be NOT ok.

When I was pondering what I would write about last week I was thinking about blankets. At the time I was walking with heavy steps along my street, fighting against a horrible sense of fatigue. Quite often, when I try to explain fatigue I talk about having a wet woollen blanket dropped over my head, my shoulders, my arms and legs.

Thankfully, I’m not going to dwell on that horrible image today.

Than you’ve decided they are.