Saturday, 21 March 2009

Reasons to be Cheerful

On my recent trip into the distant past, I reacquainted myself with Reasons to be Cheerful, part 3 *. It resurrected fond teenage memories of dubious eye make-up, cheap strong cider, puffing on the sly and being grateful to have survived the Mosh pit on a Saturday night with only minimal bruising. Obviously an altogether different proposition from that which I am currently experiencing. For those who have no idea what I am talking about or whose minds are permanently addled by excessive application of the above, here is a little reminder...

*Song considered explicit (not sure by whom), but probably only actually offensive if Cockney Rhyming Slang or similar happens to be your first language. Original Lyrics.

My recent personal circumstances have led to being regularly told to 'Count my Blessings' by an assortment of random individuals who generally have no idea.... about anything apparently (I must add that I have had any number of very supportive comments in which the phrase 'Buck up' did not figure). I have finally succumbed to their suggestion, if only to be able to proffer something whilst swiftly telling them to sod off. As 'Counting one's Blessings' seems to be a serious business, I am endeavouring to find 'Reasons to be Cheerful', a more frivolous and sunnier proposition altogether. If I factor in my almost pathological aversion to lists I kill two birds with one stone rather effectively. Result! This is my personal post-traumatic version of a classic, the creation of which has merely underlined the current level of vacuousness between my ears. Apologies in advance for some questionable rhymes. I only hope Ian Dury is not turning in his grave.

Why don't you get back into bed. (x 8)
Reasons to be Cheerful part 3,
1 2 3

A new day dawning, birdsong in the morning,
No more bloody snoring and cats,
Focussing on Karma, Barack Obama,
A bit of how's your father, bobble hats,

Django and Graffelli, Maclaine, Monroe, Minelli,
Picking up a penny, a well cut sleeve,
Messing on the water, my beautiful daughter,
Not doing what I oughta, Christmas Eve.

Wasting time on Twitter, no longer feeling bitter,
Slowly getting fitter, no more shrinks.
Larry, Moe and Curley, hanging with my girlies,
Always being early, forty winks.

Pobble minus digits, Philip always fidgets,
Working out web widgets, the Quangle Wangle Quee
Ramones, the Kinks and Strummer, a long hot summer,
At last I've found a plumber, a cup of tea.

Reasons to be Cheerful, part 3. (x 3)
Reasons to be Cheerful, 1 2 3

Reasons to be Cheerful, part 3

Cream cheese and salmon, wit instead of Mammon
Bifidus ActiRegularis

Form follows function, playing 'Up the junction',
Using a Conjunction.
Delaunay and Kandinsky, Maclary and Malinki,
Wearing something slinky.

Breakfast at Tiffany's, a personal epiphany,
Côte d'Azur not Brittany.
Tiddley poms and Heffalumps, Louboutins not ballet pumps,
Happy dreams, not things that bump.

Springtime and daffodils, at last an end to winter chills,
Remembering to pay the bills.
Imacs and internet, an entertaining soubriquet,
Living life without regret.

Coffee coffee coffee, coffee coffee coffee,
Coffee coffee coffee.

Reasons to be Cheerful, part 3 (x 3)
Reasons to be Cheerful, 1 2 3

Yes yes, dear dear, perhaps next year,
Or maybe even never.
In which case....

Reasons to be Cheerful, part 3 (x 3)
Reasons to be Cheerful, 1 2 3.

Reasons to be Cheerful, part 3 (x 3)
Reasons to be Cheerful, 1 2 3.

Sunday, 15 March 2009

The morning after the life before...

I overindulged. I know I should have stopped sooner but I couldn't. I went with the flow until I passed out cold in a pool of loveless misery, finally waking to a monumental marriage hangover. I have been lying here shivering for some time, quietly waiting for a kind soul to arrive proffering the reassuring plink, plink, fizz that heralds the road to recovery. I could be waiting for some time... even I am having difficulty locating myself.

Where on earth did I disappear to and how did I let it happen? It is a truly sobering thought.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in the days before marriage and child bearing, I distinctly remember that I had a personality and even interests. I was fearless. I travelled the world, alone; jumped out of aeroplanes; abseiled down buildings at 3 am; had inappropriate liaisons and frankly far too many other things that raise the hairs on the back of my neck at the mere thought of my daughter repeating (well, she is only five). In the intervening years I seem to have become fearful without even realising. My current level of spontaneity is to take myself out for an unexpected cup of coffee. Ye Gods. On balance it would appear that a total redesign is indeed the necessary, if not exactly preferred, option. Whist I determine exactly how that might be achieved, I think I might just drag myself from floor to bed. Tiny steps... tiny steps...


Thursday, 12 March 2009


The euphoria of escape is over, reality dawning. Can I pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again,* or should I continue wallowing around bemoaning the hand that I have dealt myself? I've never really been a fan of self pity… too indulgent… but a total redesign seems a tad overwhelming from where I am sitting. I know, ever the optimist, that in time all this will pass, transforming into the amuse-gueule of the rest of my life. All it requires is patience.... and a sharp kick the up the derrière.

Enough. Previous paragraph alone sufficient motivation to MOVE ON. Mrs Trefusis, most wise and glamorous friend, you were right. I feel better already. Bring on the apéritif!

*As espoused in the Jerome Kern/Dorothy Fields Standard