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Strange Old Day
It's been a strange old day indeed.
The weather has been cool, yet horribly humid, robbing us of much of the relief a loss of 10 degrees might otherwise have warranted. Still, it's probably marginally better than hot and humid. Hm.
At work things see-sawed between inert immobility on some projects whilst others cantered along just faster than comfortable jogging speed, ensuring that I was never quite in control of events. Luckily the wheels did not fall off and no-one noticed, but it was wearing nonetheless. I shall be right up there in the queue for kudos if there's any to be had, see if I'm not. Equally I shall be slinking to the back and sitting with a quiet and injured innocence if it all goes pear-shaped. I have no reason to think it will, you understand, but I have no wish to be anyone's goat; scape or otherwise.
I think that over the past couple of weeks I must have swallowed a batch of slow release softie pills somewhere. Damned if I know when. On the way home, I fancied buying a couple of books (not that I'm short of reading matter as it is) and one of the titles I picked up is Britain's Last Tommies - Final Memories from Soldiers of the 1914-18 War in their own words. The book was first published last year and many of the men who contributed have since died. The youngest contributor was 103; the oldest, still marching on is 110...
I sat on the train and looked through the photographs of the men in their prime and their old age and then read the foreword. Right at the end is a passage about the author being informed about the death of one of the contributors before he had chance to see the book in its final form. Sad enough, but the next bit brought a lump to my throat; the nurse told the author that another veteran in the hospital, himself aged over 100 wandered out into the corridor on his frame when he thought no one was paying attention and stood at attention away from his frame, silently saluting outside the recently deceased's bedroom door, before going back to watch the TV. One old soldier's final farewell to another.
Fair made me well-up, it did. Soft old sod.
And to top it off, I ate and enjoyed a large salad for dinner without being cajoled or coerced into it.
Strange old day indeed.
The weather has been cool, yet horribly humid, robbing us of much of the relief a loss of 10 degrees might otherwise have warranted. Still, it's probably marginally better than hot and humid. Hm.
At work things see-sawed between inert immobility on some projects whilst others cantered along just faster than comfortable jogging speed, ensuring that I was never quite in control of events. Luckily the wheels did not fall off and no-one noticed, but it was wearing nonetheless. I shall be right up there in the queue for kudos if there's any to be had, see if I'm not. Equally I shall be slinking to the back and sitting with a quiet and injured innocence if it all goes pear-shaped. I have no reason to think it will, you understand, but I have no wish to be anyone's goat; scape or otherwise.
I think that over the past couple of weeks I must have swallowed a batch of slow release softie pills somewhere. Damned if I know when. On the way home, I fancied buying a couple of books (not that I'm short of reading matter as it is) and one of the titles I picked up is Britain's Last Tommies - Final Memories from Soldiers of the 1914-18 War in their own words. The book was first published last year and many of the men who contributed have since died. The youngest contributor was 103; the oldest, still marching on is 110...
I sat on the train and looked through the photographs of the men in their prime and their old age and then read the foreword. Right at the end is a passage about the author being informed about the death of one of the contributors before he had chance to see the book in its final form. Sad enough, but the next bit brought a lump to my throat; the nurse told the author that another veteran in the hospital, himself aged over 100 wandered out into the corridor on his frame when he thought no one was paying attention and stood at attention away from his frame, silently saluting outside the recently deceased's bedroom door, before going back to watch the TV. One old soldier's final farewell to another.
Fair made me well-up, it did. Soft old sod.
And to top it off, I ate and enjoyed a large salad for dinner without being cajoled or coerced into it.
Strange old day indeed.
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Sounds like a jolly interesting read.
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