I could almost be that talking clock from Beauty and the Beast. As far as the cartoon version goes, it is possibly the worst theme tune ever. Gaston however, steals the show for me. He says to Belle something like “how can you read books without pictures?” It was always a great starting point for a year six literacy lesson. But what actually is a blogsworth? Is it:
A. Someone with a meticulous propensity for the practice of fine grammar?
B. A person who rates everyone else’s blogs above theirs? (It’s more than my blog’s worth.)
C. One of those irritating people who have to put everything down on screen to vaunt their literary skills?
I love the word vaunt. I discovered it in book one of Paradise Lost: “….and he lay vaunting, rolling in the fiery gulf.”
I think I can tick box A and C. It’s more of a love of writing as a creative outlet than a chance to flaunt and vaunt my modest art. Like the great Bard and Charlie; why use one word when you can use fifty?
The theme of todays blog is a mystery.
Whilst I can say that the themes of many blogs may be a mystery, this one is literally a mystery.
At some ridiculous time this morning I started to play Sherlock. I awoke on the floor next to the bed. My pillow was a random collection of plugs, chargers and a dust buster mini vacuum.
I did not know where my lifeline pendant was. It usually goes of the bedside cabinet. It was missing. There was a pendant type shape in amongst the dust of my rarely cleaned pine drawers, packed with a sea of non-matching socks and men’s briefs. I have no idea who the men were but that’s not the mystery.
In the corner of my eye I could see Phoenix, my trusty wheeled steed. It looked strange. Then on closer inspection, squinting desperately through the half light of the semi-darkness (by the way that’s a typical example of using six words when two would suffice), I saw my laptop sitting serenely among the sock putter-onner and my extra wide Frankenstein shoes.
I knew that was strange because the brand-new Acer touch screen did not posses the rime of ancient dust the other under-bed objects had accumulated through years of static neglect. The next couple of hours were spent trying to achieve a sitting position in order to bottom shuffle my way around the flat to find the missing pendant.
It was hopeless. I quickly became exhausted. It takes such desperate times to make me realise that a little exercising of the little grey cells might be a good idea. For on closer inspection, I saw the computer was sitting at a slight angle. And at one of its corners the cause of its unnatural incline was the faint white glow of the pendant. It was on my left hand side so I had to wrench my poor bruised body around to grab it with my right.
Even before I pressed the button it had already started its cheering little song. It’s basically a rhythmic bleep but it offers such a crumb of comfort when I find myself in the careless testa di cazzo position. (Another example of blogsworth; Italian is much more expressive for such a casual vulgar idiom.)
The paramedics arrived about an hour later. Unlike Sunday’s testa di cazzos, these were fantastic. They were kind and patient. After inserting me into my pit, they spent a long time checking that all the necessary adult social care was in place and that I was as well as could be expected.
As a bonus, one of them made me a mug of jointer’s tea. That’s just like builder’s but it’s the BT version. But alas, the back of my loyal friend was broken.
The crew kindly laid the poor chap in a corner of safety and brought through Angel; my traveller’s chair.
When I finally reached the comfort of the living room, the plot thickened. There was some cable from the laptop charger wrapped around the offside rear wheel of my poor broken chair. Then I found more of it in the bedroom.
Looking directly into the corner, I noticed the absence of my wonderful blue-tooth Sennheiser headphones.
More little grey cells time.
Through my incredible powers of deduction, I believe that unbeknown to me, I had caught the cable with said back wheel and dragged the laptop kicking and screaming into the bedroom. Seeing it hanging onto my shirt tails, I made an attempt to lean back and retrieve it. But I have no memory of this. Then again, my blood pressure has been unusually low recently and I must have blacked out and toppled into my snug little basket of modern day accessories.
And what is the cost of my folly? A few bruises. Pride. A new charger. The technical department of Lloyd’s Better Life are ringing me tomorrow about the chair and the feasibility of its repair. Oh and sometime this afternoon, I found the headphones sitting snugly in a fruit bowl. They look like they were made for each other.
And hopefully my friends, this mystery gives some form of definition for the new term that is blogsworth. But I do not make light of my misfortune. Such events, whilst heightening my levels of anxiety, actually make me a stronger and more careful person. The beast of MS has presented me with many stern learning curves. They usually end up with me stranded on my stern in some obscure corner of my castle. I find that they give lead to the creative writing I have always enjoyed. And through this medium and others I can confront some form of double digit gesture to The blunt cruelty of my condition.
Thank-you for reading.