nobody gets too much
2020 has been an incredible year for me. It is playing out against a background of me on a hospital bed/trolley receiving a lumbar puncture, and on my way to death, aged 55.
Escaping death is weird, and a weird feeling stays with you, it’s there, always, sometimes in the background, sometimes right up the front of the bus. I do a lot of bus travel and it can often feel as if I’m the only person on the bus, or maybe it’s a case of me being the only person on the bus that the Grim Reaper has forgotten about. He came, he didn’t conquer, and I have become an oversight, which is grand coz I’m just happy, no, elated to be living this extra time, in this bonus territory, in Portobello.
The real Maureen
I watched an interview with Barry Gibb. He was talking about being the last man standing. His brothers have all died and he – the eldest – is still alive. I could feel his pain, I admired his courage, and now I’m listening to the Bee Gees and memories of my ma have come flooding back. She loved the Bee Gees. Strangely, a very random thought jumped into my head about an audio recording of my granny Moore (my mother’s mother) singing a Beatles’ song. If I fell in love with you. The first time I heard it I was amazed at my granny’s singing voice. I’m sure I heard it when she was alive, but I was eight when she died and have no recollection of hearing her sing, live, so to speak.
My ma didn’t just love the Bee Gees; she loved music. One of her favourite soundtracks was the video to my wedding. I would arrive back to the house after my marriage had broken down to find my ma ironing in the sitting room with the band from my wedding singing their heads off, and here it comes, it’s the first one of the blog and possibly the first one of the day coz I’ve had a very long day but that’s the price I’m paying for a weekend that will live long in my memory … LOL.
I haven’t been writing much. It has to do with the fact that this time last year my brain had swollen, and my body was about to breakdown. My brain took a kicking. It takes time for your brain to recover from a kicking. If I’m not writing, it means there’s something not quite right. I can feel the urge, the desire, to write coming back, little by little. I feel good about that.
It’s a funny aul' rock ‘n’ roll world.