Days Like This

Eid al Adha, 1441

One of those days that fell into place, sort of perfect in itself.

Prayers at home in the morning, followed by a play-through of the first CD from Rough and Rowdy Ways, referencing the lyrics on-line. Transported.

Then visits from Fuad & Rozita & Fafa & Fifi in the afternoon and Boon & Mei in the evening, feasting on mutton biryani & other delights conjured by the Missus, slurping teh tarik and nattering about just about everything under the sun.

And now the tired late evening with a couple of cats howling outside and nowhere to go but to bed.

Like I said, perfection.

A Bit Of A Test

Noi and I observed the fast ahead of Eid al Adha today; in fact, Noi also fasted yesterday. She made no fuss about it all, of course, while I battled through the afternoon nursing a splitting headache whilst falling asleep at the same time. I was not a pretty sight but, fortunately, I was able to get away from work reasonably early to keep it all private.

I didn't quite expect the day to feel as rigorous as it has done, but in its way it's been a tellingly useful experience. If nothing else it functioned as a reminder of the extremes other folks face on a daily basis without whining about it. I must confess, I whined quite a bit, but for the most part just to myself.

On The Heights

Saddened by the death of Peter Green, of Fleetwood Mac fame, surely one of the most tasteful of a generation of gifted British guitarists. But much as I admire so many of those classics he knocked off with the early Mac, thinking back to that phase of my life I realised there was one moment watching him on the telly, on Top of the Pops of all programmes, that sort of defined for my (very) younger self what it meant to be cool in a way that was deeply exciting. It was his laconic performance of Oh Well, and the throwaway line, I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin. I both identified with PG at that moment and aspired to be exactly like him.

Funnily enough, I connect that with three other appearances on TOTP of the period that widened my impossibly narrow horizons. In no particular order of merit they were: Deep Purple doing Black Night, Black Sabbath doing Paranoid and, above all (I lied about the order of merit thing), Paul Rogers and Free telling me I was Alright Now.

What a strange kid I was.

The Price You Pay

I don't mind running around a bit at work. I get paid for it, and I suppose it helps keep me reasonably fit. But these days I know I'll pay a price for uncomfortable busyness and its a steep one.

I'm referring to the almost inevitable bouts of cramp I suffer at night following such days. These are generally painful, and I mean very. Last night was marked by three such bouts, affecting both legs at various hours. Fortunately I was so weary that I only awoke long enough to deal with the pain and immediately dropped back to sleep again. I'm hoping for similar weariness tonight as I can already feel the muscles in my nether regions readying themselves to remind me of just how taut they can decide to make themselves.

It's sort of comical, the way in which a body can decide to protest against the use one makes of it, but it's a dark kind of humour. Not exactly laugh-out-loud material.

Not So Lethargic

After a couple of days last week moved lazily in something suspiciously close to slow motion, today has compensated on the grand scale in its briskness. It's been non-stop and still hasn't stopped. A useful reminder of life's demands, though threatening at points to be a bit too useful in that direction.

Kind Of Impressive

Over the years I've learnt to be wary of those times when I feel pleased with myself over something. It's so easy to fall into the trap of complacency and misread the world, and I'm very prone to that. I loved being praised as a child and recognise ways in which that wasn't at all healthy, and ways in which aspects of that child persist in me.

I try now to reserve any sense of self-regard for those occasions when I've managed to keep going on something at a time when I was thoroughly miserable and somehow got through in the end. My first year of teaching is the best example. I sucked big-time at the job but survived through sheer bloody-mindedness, and I'm sort of impressed with that younger version of myself despite all his many flaws.

And this weekend, I felt incredibly lethargic and out of it, yet managed to get two cleaning jobs done that I really, really, really didn't want to bother with at all. Not in the slightest. It's a bit sad, I suppose, that it takes something so utterly mundane to impress me about myself, but that's the way of it.

Back To Life

Spent some happy minutes munching on kaya toast and slurping tea at our favourite Ya Kun outlet this afternoon. It's good to see Clementi Mall come back to life after those recent days of walking along largely deserted corridors. As far as I can see none of the businesses there have had to shut down, and now they appear to be thriving.

Mind you, it obviously isn't easy just on the simple logistics front. The young ladies who staff Ya Kun normally look busy simply preparing the excellent grub they dish out, and now they have to deal with watching the queue, clearing and cleaning tables and seating customers in their very limited space - whilst reminding everyone to keep their social distancing. It looked frantic, I can tell you, yet they were managing the situation with lots of diplomatic grace. I hope they get paid well for their efforts - they certainly deserve every penny.

Lighting Up Again

We turned on the fairy-lights this evening, ahead of Hari Raya Haji. The Haj this year will be a very limited affair in terms of numbers, but it's good to know that it will take place. There will be many there in spirit.

And all who have had the good fortune to have accomplished the rites remain pilgrims no matter where they may be, no matter how far from the still centre of this turning world.

Sleepyhead

It's a good thing that I haven't needed to go into work this week. I've been feeling drowsy in the extreme and finding it easier to nod off than ever - which is quite something for a man who has never had problems entering the Land of Nod. I suppose this might have something to do with being generally worn down in recent weeks by the shifting demands of work, but I'm doubtful that this is a sufficient explanation. Indeed, I can't honestly say that I've felt genuinely stretched in recent weeks.
 
A more likely explanation is that the drowsiness is medicinal in origin. I went to see my back doc last Saturday for a routine check, but this happened to coincide with a bout of stiffness in the muscles on my left side. The doc prescribed tablets I've taken before, but upped the dosage. I'm now thinking I might be suffering the side effects.

To be honest, being on the verge of falling asleep for much of the day is not a completely unpleasant state to be in. But almost a week of it is quite enough, thank you.

A Sense Of Loss

Heard this evening that Chris has lost his father to the coronavirus. It's sad to think his dad was most likely alone at the end, given the precautions taken in hospitals. One of the many cruel aspects of Covid-19. Though I hope I'm wrong about that.

The realisation of the grief that the living must suffer over every loss makes those terrible numbers of the dead world-wide all the more disturbing. I suppose we need to recognise our ability to distance ourselves from the reality of the suffering involved as an odd kind of blessing. But we also need to connect, as an essential part of our recognition that we are all in this together.