They say, don’t they, that little things please little minds?
I’m not sure exactly how little my mind is. In
the early hours of the morning, when I can’t get back to sleep after tending to Mr B’s needs, my mind seems to expand to take on board all the troubles of the world. If not the universe. In my over-active mind, I am a combination of David Attenborough
and Greta Thunberg with a liberal lacing of Doctor Who, as portrayed by Jodie Whatsername. Unlike The Doctor, I never manage to arrive at world changing solutions. I wake, still tired, and my mind immediately focuses on - yes, you are there before me, little
Today I became quite ridiculously excited over finding a set of coloured whiteboard markers - one each in black, red, green and blue. My whiteboard drawings
keeping Mr B informed as to where I am and what I am doing when I am away from the house are going to be so much more, well, colourful in future.
For several months
I have been limited to just one black marker which has been growing ever fainter from over use. I have even had to cut down my messages to the strictly necessary for fear of my marker running out altogether. Now I am back in full Flights of Whiteboard Fancy.
So, this morning, before I headed off to the GP surgery for my ten weekly B12 injection, I drew a stick figure picture of myself (in blue) being attacked by an over-sized
green syringe. From my mouth emerged the single written word “ouch!” and from my arm a few drops of red blood. This was poetic (or artistic?) licence as I knew from experience that no significant amount of blood would be shed as a result of the
phlebotomist’s tender attentions to my arm. Plus I never, ever, say “ouch!” as the needle goes in as I prefer to be thought of as something of a stoic.
Tomorrow afternoon, I have a date with a cribbage board and a group of card players so I will be able to draw the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Diamonds on the whiteboard in all their red-ness. What’s more, I will be able to draw colourful trees
and flowers to illustrate my daily walk to the shops. Mr B, to be fair, isn’t that bothered with my artistic efforts - his main concern is that I write the day of the week and the date in capital letters at the top of the whiteboard. He couldn’t
care less if this Information is written in black, blue, green or red which just goes to show that one person’s “little thing” is somebody else’s Matter of Great Importance.
Grandson Morgan, Youngest of the (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys has discovered the joys of messaging. Oh, what fun! Early in the morning, he sends me a gif (I hope everyone is impressed with my command of the lingo?) of Nemo
the clown fish jumping on his poor father to wake him up. “Wake up! Wake up!” is the message. It’s a lovely reminder, I tell him by way of reply, of all the times we have shared a bedroom - including at our house as well as at exotic locations
such as Center Parcs. Such a little thing, a gif, but it means a lot.
On the way home from the shops, I spy daffodils in the flower shop. I’ve been
keeping my eyes peeled for daffodils in the local shops, without success, ever since New Year’s Day. I like to keep our home supplied with daffs to keep my little mind concentrating on the fact that, cold as it may be, spring is coming. There’s
only one small bunch (£1.25) left in the flower bucket outside the shop which tells me that I’m not the only one who likes to introduce some cheery spring sunshine to the kitchen windowsill.
Little things don’t only please little minds, you know - they can mean such a lot...