I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.
Monday, March 11, 2013
You're entitled to moan
You'll have to forgive me, but this morning I am having a good moan! I have officially given myself permission just for today, to complain. If any workmen are reading this blog, I beg your forgiveness for I'm sure that most are hard working, honest and take pride in their particular skilled profession. However this past week I have had the misfortune to come across some workmen who push one's patience to the furthest limits, working so slowly; I'm convinced a colony of snails would move at a faster pace. Not to mention the most unattractive view I have been subjected to. As soon as a worker bends down, I quickly avert my eyes - you know why of course! Is it some sort of unofficial but common uniform they all seem to wear? Yes, you've guessed what I'm talking about! The trousers that look like they're about to slip down at any given moment, revealing underpants that do not cover, hence revealing a part of one's anatomy that should not be on display! I have also noticed that apart from not being perturbed by their distasteful attire, clearly another requirement of being a workman is having good healthy lungs. I've been subjected to listening to some very loud heated shouting matches, and despite having all the windows and doors closed, I can still hear them outside. Yesterday I was near to losing it, and decided to drown out their presence with my MP3 player. Ear plugs firmly pushed in, I turned the volume up and before long felt much better, and unconsciously began to sing along with the music, as I'm sure most of us have done from time to time. I was suddenly made aware of my daughter standing by my side, telling me that she could hear my singing from upstairs with her bedroom door closed!!!! I had no idea I was singing that loud. Not being able to hold a note, my singing leaves much to be desired; is it any wonder that the workmen packed up early and went home!
Posted by Parkinson's, shaken, not stirred at 7:00 AM