61 AND DEPRESSED

The beauty of women increases in direct proportion to the age and decrepitude of the male observing and admiring them. This sad fact has been coming to my attention as, on 16th July, I attained the age of 61 summers (not to mention a few hard winters). This also means that a substantial part of my get-up-and-go has been getting up and going over the past few years. I used to be able to work a full day, and still be up for some fun and games in the evening, but those days are sadly well and truly behind me.

My work requires a degree of concentration, and, after eight hours of this, I find that all I want to do is watch a good TV programme (if such an article can be found), read a good book, or search for something obscure and interesting on the web. My creativity can only be properly focused for a limited continuous period of time, and afterwards I feel exhausted. Days involving more in the way of physical work leave me feeling knackered, although, after an hour's rest, I'm usually ready to go again. Let's face it, I'm starting to get old, and I only hope the rest of the process is going to be relatively painless.

I apologise, to the faithful few followers of this blog, for neglecting to post to it for more than three weeks. I've been rather busy and, to be truthful, my thoughts of late have been rather negative, about practically everything, and I didn't want to do a blog post while I was in that frame of mind. Perhaps that's wrong too - in order for the blog to be a genuine record, I should post in all circumstances. Anyway, things haven't changed, really, but I'm learning to live with it - to know the difference between the things I can and cannot change, basically.

There have been happy events too. Two friends, whom I last saw 13 and 38 years ago respectively, turned up to see me during the last two weeks. My youngest sister Angela, her husband Nigel and daughter Elanor (who was recently appointed leader of the Welsh National Youth Orchestra) have been up for an all-too-short holiday, transforming the peace and tranquillity of my mother's home at Whiteness into a palace of laughter and music for a week. My mother, who celebrates (although she doesn't know it yet!) her 93rd birthday on Thursday, sat in the middle of the chaos, smiling happily - she loves having her family around her.

We have been blessed with mostly good summer weather too. The flora and fauna of these islands have rejoiced as never before. On my birthday, the largest cruise ship yet to anchor in Lerwick harbour, the "Costa Magica", paid the first of her two scheduled visits for this summer. She made an impressive, if not actually beautiful, spectacle.

Maybe better times are ahead. My sisters Mary and Thelma, along with myself and whichever other family members are able to come, are going to give Mother a birthday party on Thursday evening, and I'm going to enjoy judging the drawing and painting entries in the arts and crafts section of the Voe Show on Saturday. All I need now is news of a couple more sales of my own artwork at Duff House, and life will take on a distinct rosy hue again. I need the depression to lift from my recession - soon.