Coffin footnote

The coffin in yesterday's blog was in a shop called The Purple Funeral Co, in Shropshire, now alas! no more. There was a workshop at the back and coffin-painting classes were offered. This was work in progress, but not mine in fact.
On the web I have found a similar shop in Bristol, and their coffin page is here if you are interested: tp://freespace.virgin.net/heaven.earth/coffin.html.

Not dead yet - work is still in progress!

Just heard that one of my readers is concerned that I have not written in my blog for so long. It feels good to know I have an audience (of one at least!) on the other side of the Atlantic, who is interested enough in my blog to notice and care. Even with the slow increase on the hit counter, it is hard to believe that one is being read, and I would love to have more comments, even if they are critical. I enjoy being unexpected and provocative, but perhaps I am deluding myself in thinking that what I write is anything out of the ordinary these days. I am fairly sure that I do not conform wholly to the general stereotype of an old woman, but there must be many other atypical old crones out there, and I would love to read their blogs too.

Anyway, I am sorry not to be more regular with my entries. And I realise that with the title "Not dead yet!" I have created a heightened expectation of termination!! I even discussed with a good mate - only half playfully - the possibility of writing my own obit now, and lodging it with him, so that he could post it for me when I do eventually go. Perhaps I should address myself to that more seriously. After all, people leave final video messages for their heirs, don't they?

Two reasons for my recent silence: firstly, I am still much occupied and preoccupied with the health and wellbeing of my good old friend Michael, about whom I posted in my February blog about Growing Old: this leaves me tired and depressed, and feeling far from creative. And secondly: I use my blog to express the unfulfilled writer in me, mostly drafting my blogs in Word first and editing them carefully. The sort of off-the-cuff diary entry which I am writing now does not come so naturally. But thanks for noticing and caring.

A condom with a goldfish in it ...

How, you may be asking yourself, would anyone dream up a title like that? Well - that is exactly what I did, I dreamed it. I don't remember anything else about the dream except that I had had people staying in my house who were strangers to me, and that after they had gone, I went into my lavatory and found, hanging from the end of the toilet roll fixture, a condom with a goldfish swimming around in it!

I very rarely talk about my dreams, as however enthralling they are to oneself, they are almost invariably boring and unintelligible to others. But this I just had to share, for the sheer unimaginable absurdity of it. So if my readers needed any proof that I am a mad old woman, you have it now.

And I am still trying to work out whether, in my dream, my departing guest was leaving me a 'thankyou' gift, or giving me the finger!