help!

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We haven’t had television, now, for about twenty years. And aside the occasional binge watch of certain classic series – Twin Peaks, The Sopranos, The Wire, and, ahem, Dynasty (all on dvd – so twentieth century), all we ever watch, really, when we choose to, are films in our projector room –  ‘The Videodrome’: jungle plants, mirrors, and a plain, white wall that at night becomes our cinema screen.

 

Duncan has a phobia of TV sets: he hates them with a passion, finds them hideously ugly, the way that they eat up a room and dominate all social proceedings and become the locus of any household; on all the time in the background, needlessly like an insidious drone, the ‘news’ on repeat in the same ominous, OMG! or faux-compassionate tones……….

 

And yet when we go home, back to the UK, it seems unavoidable, watching TV, for a while, just the thing to do, because that’s what people do, and then I start getting immediately drawn, despite myself, into certain programmes anyway (it usually only takes me one episode of something to already start planning my vacation around when I can see the tantalizing next one): all of this always enjoyable, kind of, for a while, as a novelty that we can dip into: the zeitgeist of  our homeland (or that’s what I probably tell myself, in any case).

 

Ultimately, however, TV, for me, is, and always will be, a mindfuck. Which is why it was such a pleasure when the NHK TV man mistakenly cut the wires all those years ago in our old house round the corner from where we live now and we never looked back. Life was immediately much better just without it. The way it slowly, but insidiously, takes over the  brain and the soul, plugging up the brain stem with fudge, filling up the pristine waterways with commercialized, if enjoyable, cement that severs intelligence; eats up creativity: leaves you ‘pleasurized’.

 

I am undoubtedly a hypocrite. Despite my supercilious attitudes to the medium, writing here as though I am above it all, I know that I am in fact very easily addicted. I am prone. I am a person who, for instance, on the twelve hour flight back to the UK from Japan, usually watches five films in a row without pausing for breath, and I love every minute of it. I love long haul flights, and sometimes don’t even want them to end. Just the sensation, which I always enjoy, of being unbounded by time, the feeling that time zones don’t make any sense any more when you are flying high, high above them over Siberia or the north coast of Sweden; that responsibilites have been erased (the best part), and you are strapped into your seat helpless and at the whim of hostesses and hosts you can bring to you whenever you want with drinks and salted snacks at the press of a button; that it takes away the primal fear somewhere below, that you are flying in a heavy ton of metal and plastic through the air.

 

 

 

I have terrible powers of absorption. I get engrossed in what I am watching to the extent that I totally forget about everything else. I don’t regret having this aspect to my character; I know that some people cannot concentrate on anything and have a million and one things at the back of their minds when they are at the cinema, or in conversation, or trying to pretend that they are enjoying a show at the theatre when there is a whole lot of drama going on inside their own heads instead;  whereas I, like a child, am quite easily enthralled. I lose myself. Even when we did have a phone that worked in the house, I would often disconnect the thing when I was watching the film, reality be damned. I like this feeling. And I am thrilled, in truth that I have all this new, potential entertainment. To be happily, and mindlessly drugged.  I just worry about the dosage.

 

 

The reason I am fact writing this is that yesterday was the first time that I have ever used the movie and TV show streaming service Netflix, something that is becoming a way of life for millions and millions of people now: yet another unexamined and unquestioned part of twenty first century life that takes over many people’s lives.  A friend of mine was saying the other day that she truly realized the power of doing things and staying fresh and young and spontaneous and offline when away with her husband for her birthday in Hamburg a weekend or two ago, when so many couples our age now she knows just stay in at night at the weekend with a take away or call in pizza and wine and watch Netflix as a matter of course, and, I suppose, when you think about it, why not? It’s cosy, that nesting feeling with your partner, or your cat, or alone, doors locked, programmes on, your life at the end of a remote control. Just so damn easy.

 

Moreover, again in its defence, having all this potential numbing and absorbing programming at the end of my fingertips will be extremely helpful for me over the next few months when I am hospitalized in a claustrophobic Japanese medical environment, where I will bored out of my mind, and from what I read about the operations themselves, in excruciating pain as well – and where having these benign, amusing, addictive TV shows will be a boon; a cocoon for me to plug into in my native tongue as the grim babble of the wards around me go about their business, but I, in my mind, dimmed in my painkillers, will be drowsily ensconced happily in LA, or Miami, or wherever I happen to find myself instead.  An old friend who came to stay with us last week from the UK, very kindly, and generously, put her account, probably illegally, onto my computer (she also said that when going through a very difficult time last Autumn, it was Netflix that saved her: to avoid the rawness and the pain of a difficult breakup, she would just get under the bedclothes at night and watch episode after episode of Narcos), and I must say that I was absolutely delighted in truth to have this option there, even if on closer view the content struck me as somewhat unthrilling. A bit run of the mill and standardized. Of a certain ilk.

 

 

 

Still, yesterday, when waking up alone on my Monday day off, I couldn’t resist.

 

 

 

In fact, I had woken up at 6am after just four hours sleep feeling alert and creative, words streaming through my brain ready to start working on Notes On My Notes Volume III (still so much to say!), a sun-filled, late February morning, plum, and peach blossom budding on the trees, the morning light filled with beautiful possibilites, but  ‘just a bit longer in bed’ I then lazily thought to myself as I woke up, overslept and groggy, at the far later time of 10.45 with nothing on my mind but the Cheddar cheese that our friend had brought us in her suitcase, melted on toast, with coffee, and the paper, and lethargy… and then Netflix. There was simply nothing else whatsoever that I wanted to do. I couldn’t have written a word about anything, then, if you had paid me (amazing how the time of day you wake up affects your brain and its powers – in my case it is entirely unpredictable; it could easily have been the other way round. Sometimes I leap out of bed dreaming perfume reviews –  the other night I even dreamed about the non existent Chanel No 41 extrait and was dying to tell you about it because I had smelled it; other times that side of my head is completely and utterly switched off as if it had been bashed in with a giant rock).

 

 

So access the Netflix I did, with my password, and soon found that the entire day had been spent watching various films, and shows, and ‘browsing through’, right up until bedtime. And I had, yet again, that familiar sensation I get at these times: that I was sated with something that had given me a certain level of pleasure, had let me forget about the day (not that it needed necessarily to be forgotten about), but that had very definitely addicted me : in truth, I am itching to get back to it to find out what happens next in various storylines…..but then before going to bed last night I did write about this, I had to as I felt this peculiar new unease,  like a physical feeling in my body, and put the original version of this up ( different words, but the same ideas) , but somehow it got erased, which enraged me, one wrong press of a keyboard button and your endeavours just vanish into ether – along with some people’s comments  – my apologies : my panic  – well, that is perhaps too strong a word for it – but my dis-ease at the feelings in my brain potent enough for me to want to write about it and get some feedback from those that are reading this now, a fair few of whom I imagine are also subscribers to ‘Netflix’, and know, instinctively, perhaps, just what I am talking about. That potential feeling of willingly losing  yourself to it.

 

 

It would be unfair to suggest that watching TV is in itself bad in some way, particularly when the quality of so many series now is on par with, or better than, most of what is put on at our cinemas and when so much of it is so well made and genuinely informative. I do realize this. And people need escape, something to focus on (and I definitely will be charge up to this new alternative world of mine probably most of the day, unless I am reading, which I hopefully will be as well, and preferably writing,  when I am chained to my hospital bed watching the swellings and the metallic implants and the drips and the syringes and the masked nurses and all the rest of it, and I know that some instant trips to other places will be exactly what the doctor ordered.)

 

 

At the same time, though, even from just one full day of it, yesterday, my brain, in all honesty, felt changed.

 

 

 

Taken over.

 

 

Congested. 

 

 

 

With TV, or the internet, I really do feel plugged into the Matrix, at the mercy of unseen forces that want to control me. And I know that I can be easily controlled. (Is this paranoia? Discuss: I don’t actually believe so). Proof lies in my current use of my iPhone 6s, which I was forced to get after eighteen months off it (documented in my piece on the subject, The Rosy Trail of Ms Pusy if you are interested in hearing about the virtually unplugged life), a time when I felt unshackled and purer; calmer in my spirit, more contemplatative and easier to sleep (there is no doubt for me that even just having your smart phone in the room with you at night somehow disturbs the quality of your sleep, and dreams….)

 

 

 

Yes, it was a nice time, for a while. I lost the phone, looked for it very halfheartedly, and then enjoyed not having it so much that I literally delayed getting another one for a year and a half. Quite a long time in this age when people panic if they accidentally leave it at home for even one day. It was nice, though. I felt more human, or at least what being a human being used to feel like. More in the physical world of air, trees, and flowers. I was always one to literally stop and smell the roses anyway, but without my phone, even more so. I moved more slowly. I read far more novels and loved it. I was more organic, solid, less fractured, somehow, and in one sense, more connected.

 

Reality then eventually took hold, however, and it became necessary for me to get a phone to be contactable for work, the hospital, my family (it was, in truth, very selfish of me, in a way, even if the fact of being wilfully incommunicado, as a gesture of defiance against the general brainwashing of humanity, secretly, as an unabashed rebel, did rather please me).

 

 

And I can’t pretend, either, that I haven’t enjoyed it. Being back online, being constantly contactable, in the moment, and in the grid, I am feeling sociable: am lucky to have lots of friends and acquaintances the world over, and do like the instantaneous spontaneity of being able to quip a line here with an old friend now living in Turkey on Facebook, of chatting with someone else back home or in Iceland or in India, putting up photos I take whenever I feel like it (this I love: the immediacy of this ‘art’ and the capturing of a moment) of checking (too constantly, in fact) what is going on in the world, of being able to message people and organize meet ups whenever I want to. It has its downsides, undeniably (its addiction, its sheer and absolute compulsiveness, which seems, almost to be built inside the device itself, as though it emits this), but I still know that it will be an absolute godsend when I am taken in and sequestered in for weeks on end in my hospital bed. How else am I going to be able to contact anyone? How else will I regale you  with the horrors I am experiencing, live and direct on the Black Narcissus?

 

 

Yes. If you gave me the choice of going back to my prior state of Nature Boy, or maintaining my current one, I have to disappoint some readers perhaps in saying that I would definitely go for the latter. With the world the way it is, I don’t want to feel isolated or out of the loop but right in the middle of what feels something like a revolution. We are actually, it would seem, at the beginning of dystopia, of some nightmareish, fascistic, takeover. The scent of the plum blossom (beautiful, incidentally, the quintessence of Kamakura), just somehow isn’t quite enough.

 

 

 

But at the same time, though, when compounded with the easy allure of Netflix and its endless streams of entertainment, after just one day of it I can already feel my brain going. I can imagine, from now,  just receiving, not producing; of gradually being subsumed by all the ready made programming and buzzlines and memes and trending news, and ‘fake news’ (already the sinister gaslighting of the administration has started working a little inside my head and I am starting, against my instincts and better judgement, to believe that Bastard about the ‘lying media, the enemy of the people’, even though I know in my heart that The New York Times has some of the very best writers in the world and I can’t live without it on a day to day basis just for the beauty of its language, its humour and humanistic poigancy); a whirl and a maelstrom of noise, unreal, saturated colours, and easy pleasures, like junk food, that will fill me up stodgily and happily for short periods of time but still, under the skin and in my cerebellum, leave me feeling unsatiated and brainless: an unthinking,  one-of-the-masses, stupid, media-ized

 

 

Z O M B I E

 

 

40 Comments

Filed under Flowers, Psychodrama

40 responses to “help!

  1. Sorry, last night’s short-lived post was better and more succinct, but I still felt this morning (before I go back to Netflix!) that I had to write about it. Any comments on the subject extremely welcome.

  2. The Getdown is very good on Netflix, The OA, and House of cards were my binge in 2016.
    No TV for twenty years, that’s fantastic really… at least you did watch The Sopranos one of my favourite of all time…see if you can get Breaking Bad it’s addictive….

    • Enabler! Yes, that we watched from start to finish and were really into it but you know now when I look back on it I don’t know if it actually WAS that good. I have a hollow remembrance of it. People were watching that instead of living.

      • jennyredhen

        I wasnt that impressed with Breaking bad either.

      • And what do you think about Netflix addiction in general?

      • jennyredhen

        to be honest I dont really know much about Netflix. I only have a work computer and a smart phone. I am answering you on my work computer I can justify a few minutes here and there to do personal stuff .. but watching a whole movie in my office… I dont think so.. A local power co is offering a smart TV as an inducement to sign up with them maybe I will get one of them but I like going to the cinema to warch movies I like the big screen and the social aspect of going out .. I cant really see me getting a home movie theatre haha . however if I was housebound a smart TV and netflix would be an ideal distraction.

      • Oh god me too. As long as cinema exists and I can still move I will be going as well. You can’t beat it.

  3. I could use a day like you had. I have yet to download Netflix but I haven’t even had the time recently to watch a movie although “The Girl on the Train” is waiting for me on my iPad.

    • I quite fancy that one as well. So from your tone here you feel there is absolutely nothing to feel guilty about? Maybe I am just baloning off a whole lot of hot air about nothing. Still, I did feel quite odd yesterday evening.

      • Guilt is totally unnecessary and doesn’t do any good for anyone. It is a moot point as what happens in life has already happened and we must move on…try to do better in some instances and try to forget the inequities that have befallen us in other circumstances. Guilt does not change anything.

  4. “Help!” I hear ya. No TV for 25 years, lots of walking to local indie film venues and reading and listening to music before internet — or intersmash, as Ric calls it, for its wanting-to-wing-the-laptop-against-the-wall properties.

    And yet, when I go to his place we watch stuff on one of his two huge-screen TVs, and it’s just what you say: it’s kind of What We Do. Currently, I am having a rekindling of my love affair with David Attenborough through the newer shows he’s doing for the BBC. He soothes me somehow. Just that there are guys out there like him soothes me. And then we’ll watch UFC Fight Night. For some reason, the fact that the screens and network service are Ric’s makes it all seem arm’s-length, guilt-free education/entertainment. There’s a passivity that’s appealing. The lights are off, the wood stove is glowing, candles are scattered around, the bed’s made, and we’re traveling around the world together, experiencing things together, plugged into those high-end production values, the various worlds in the big bright rectangle.

    And I’m always wearing three or four fragrances on wrists and backs of hand as a backdrop to the spectacle. It’s escapism and connection and a compelling kind of participation without really trying. Interesting laziness. I don’t know, really . . .

    • Yours sounds quite well controlled then. I guess I am wanting to open up a conversation about whether I need to even worry about it in the first place: do we NEED to feel guilty about becoming TV zombies? The comments so far are just recommending shows and TV series.

      • Yeah, I’d say it depends. I know just a week or so ago the system went on the fritz and Ric couldn’t watch TV until the technicians came, a wait of a couple of days. He had a bit of a meltdown. It was like instant drug withdrawal, even merely having to contemplate 48 hours without a fix. I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or not, or not particularly bad anyway. It’s not like he’s building up a tolerance so he needs more and more TV to get the same quantity of escapism. And it’s legal and not actually harmful. He recognized the strength of his reaction, so he’s not in any kind of denial. I was struck by the fact, though, that I wasn’t bothered about it in the least; I noticed how different our reactions were. And I have to say, I felt good that I wasn’t bent out of shape like Ric was. But maybe that was more a slight case of cultural arrogance than anything else. I’m not necessarily in any better shape than he is, so to speak, just not bent by those particular circumstances. Take away my perfumes, though, and I might turn psycho. 😉

      • That last comment just made me smile large as I limp along the train platform to work.

        Yes, even just LOOKING, ogling and fetishizing my perfume collection gives me extreme, sensual gratification!

      • I knew you’d know what I meant. Like an addict waking up jonesing, this morning I just now got out of bed, put on the kettle with shaking hands (well, not really, but . . . ), and sprayed on some Opardu. Whew. Much better. Yes, just LOOKING. Or even just THINKING about my stash. “Fetishizing.” Mmm. But I CAN STOP ANY TIME.

        I just choose not to.

      • P.S. You and your poor knees.

  5. I stopped watching TV mainly because of the news and I didn’t want my kids being exposed to the gratuitous violence of it, the blood, mayhem, death and violence simply because they have footage of it. I now listen to and read the news. My binge watching over the last few years has included Game of Thrones (do it, just do it, either that or read the books [just as good]), Mad Men, Masters of Sex and Band of Brothers (violence yes, realism yes, storyline yes, cute guys yes).

    • Mad Men yes, it was good for a while ( but then kind of tedious ), Game Of Thrones, wow, the majority of my friends and acquaintances are HYSTERICAL about it, obsessed beyond belief, and I don’t doubt for a second that it is brilliant ( and I may just one day finally relent and just start watching it ), but in reality I am just repelled by anything ‘mythological’, particularly if it is Anglo-Saxon, Norse or Celtic.

      I am like the Anti-Viking, so NOT atavistic, all those beards and maidens and pig smells and ridiculous names just make me sick (and Duncan feels EXACTLY the same).

      If we are talking about the exquisite films of Pier Paolo Pasolini ( Medea; Arabian Nights), oh yeah, baby. Rarely has anything been more exquisite ( or unbearably erotic).

      But even a HINT of an Enya like theme, while beasts rant about home and hearth and rip animals from their bones and I am OUTTATHYEYAa.

      Even The Lord Of The Rings, which my family adores…..I understand the appeal,but no.

      Aside wanting to have sex with Frodo and Viggo Mortensen ( my GOD ), I just can’t stand it .

      I love my English streams, my Romantic poets , my Kate Bush, but anything before the nineteenth century for me can frankly go fuck its hairy self

      • jennyredhen

        I live in NZ and I hate Lord of the Rings. People come here especially because of Lord of the Rings . You can go on LOTR Tours and go to the places where all the battles were fought and go to Hobbiton..etc etc etc Whenever I am overseas and say from NZ thetwo things people know about NZ are the All Blacks and Lord of the freaking Rings haha.

      • Not interested in either, sorry. Only Jane Campion.

  6. Russell

    Neil, wonderful post; contemplative and thought-provoking. Television seems like such an assumption, a given and it really robs you of your time and attention put toward better things, pursuits, ambitions. I also find it rather insidious, as it pervades society, expectation and demands that its viewing be attended. I do rather lament being in someone’s house and seeing a television; it makes me sad actually. Here in the States, unfortunately, Americans live on a steady stream, a diet actually, conspicuous consumption, and just like everything else, a bigger television means a bigger, better life. I go the opposite way.

    I haven’t had a television in 4 years or so and I haven’t really missed much or looked over my shoulder. Most important things being streamed online mitigates what I might have lost otherwise, should there be something essential I simply cannot do without. That is not to say that I wouldn’t be happy to remain a shut-in during four days of the Master’s golf tournament in Augusta, but there are ways to go about it.

    Recently I was pet-sitting for a friend and found myself on the couch occupied with the advances of a cat. This brief interlude was broken when the cat went off to chase some dustball or shadow and the television loomed before me, demanding my allegiance. It was all I could do to figure out how to navigate the byzantine options laid out over two remote controls, but somehow I persevered.

    I must tell you that The People V. O.J. Simpson on Netflix, which won an Emmy and now an Oscar, is downright delicious. That cat never had better company. Or worse.

    Cheers mate. Thank you for being you.
    /Russell

    • And thanks for being you : this is so beautiful and so vivid ( have we met before, incidentally?)

      I agree explicitly that TV is presented as a given, but having a brain and not being stupid, there are MANY MANY MANY givens and assumptions in this life that I have studied, analyzed and rejected out of hand as one expels undesirable viruses from the body.

      There is a pervasiveness, an omnipresence that I just can’t accept ( and never could)….. all those weekends stuck at home with the football on were like being slowly lobotomized or slo- cooked, like there was no aperture of natural light and no way out,…

  7. David

    I think you’ll be glad to have Netflix when you are in the hospital. There are so many good series. I recommend Broadchurch, The Affair, and, most of all, Happy Valley.
    I don’t read too much into binge watching. Just like I don’t read too much into spending the weekend tripping on E. Or sleeping until noon on a day off. Or dancing all day at a carnival bloco. Or working my ass off at work. Or losing myself in a book. Listen to the song ‘Taint Nobody’s Business if I Do. Preferably the Dinah Washington version. You’ll know what I mean.

  8. emmawoolf

    Interesting. I actually find TV shows to be a rather benign medium, and feel nostalgic for the days when “what’s on the box” (or the Radio Times, which if you were my grandma, you kept in its very own leatherette binder) was all we had to worry about. I like watching TV, in moderation I admit, and usually get a bit annoyed with people who are snobby about them (not putting Duncan in this category). I have too many middle-class friends who boast proudly of not owning a TV (or having a licence), and then suggest we huddle around their miniscule PC screen to watch a film. Not my idea of fun. I like a bit of telly at the end of an annoying day, perhaps 45 mins or so, as long as phones/ipads are well out of reach. It’s social media and its endless pull of distractions that truly concerns me. The fact that we can’t watch anything (in fact, do anything at all) without telling someone about it.

    • A good point, actually. Maybe that’s why I have no intention of watching Game Of Thrones. It was as if that as all that was in anybody’s mind. And yes: I would NEVER sit around someone’s computer to watch a film. Once you have a projector, there is no turning back whatsoever.

      I think in hospital though the computer will be just perfect. I will HAVE to take my mind off it all. E, I am terrified!

      • emmawoolf

        GoT is not my cup of tea, and I suspect, not yours either. But don’t let me put you off. To be honest, I’m too squeamish.

        The projector home cinema: wonderful. I would love one of those.

        How long are you going to be in hospital for? Line up those TV shows…. x

      • SIX WEEKS.
        Then three months ( or more ) at home!

  9. We don’t have tv in the classic sense, we have Netflix, Hulu, and Crunchy Roll (for all things anime) and we stream them onto the television in the living room. We only watch a show during dinner, sometimes during breakfast on the weekends, and at night after dinner we watch a couple of episodes of anime; we adore our anime, we should be fluent in Japanese at this point. A couple of series we watched which were really good, don’t know if they were on Netflix or not, Marco Polo and Vikings. I was not a huge fan of Game of Thrones, too much corruption and killing, much like the real world, so I stopped watching. I did enjoy Breaking Bad more than I thought I would. I was uncomfortable with it at times, but overall it was interesting.
    I don’t know if overconsumption of tv would be an addiction, but if it overtakes everything else in life I guess it could become an addictive like experience. I guess tv just doesn’t have that type of control over me. I am alone a couple of days during the week and don’t go out and all I will do is watch a few people on YouTube, no television for me. Although, I used to adore binge watching tv when I was younger, Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a memorable one I enjoyed, but now it is relegated to one day a week, a Sunday anime-fest. It can be a positive medium if enjoyed in a healthy way. It will definitely help you during your convalescence to keep you entertained, so that isn’t a bad thing. I guess if you just stopped going out and enjoying life over time, then it would be a problem.
    I do hope that some good series will help you along the road to recovery and take your mind of things. Now don’t stress too much, all will be fine.

  10. 1. It makes my heart hurt that you’re in such pain, and will be in such pain.

    2. I’m glad you told us about it.

    3. This administration is a nightmare. I can barely even address it beyond that. MY GOD.

    4. I don’t watch much television, just certain shows on public television, and generally only on Sunday nights. Mysteries are my favorite. I gather that’s not your style, but that’s where I’m coming from.

    5. But the addiction feeling. UGH. That’s me with the Internet. Exactly what you’re describing: the blissful immersion, feeling you’re maybe being controlled, knowing how susceptible you are (I am, too), and trying to figure out whether to care.

    6. I’ve decided I care. I’m not okay with it.

    7. Living with the reality that is T****, for me it has boiled down to this: the scent of the plum blossom (not literally, but you know) is enough. It was there before him, and despite his efforts, it will be there after him. I am finding a little comfort in that, then doing what I can locally and will vote Democrat at every opportunity. But I’m a Taurus.

    • I LOVE THIS. Please talk to me in hospital! (and I DO love mysteries, completely and utterly. I just can’t do Norse crap, possibly because it reminds me too much of the white supremacist fucks and what they yearn back to).

      • I will talk to you! Yes!

        I take your point about the Norse-themed…all. I haven’t watched, but I’ve read, and yes. And that kind of yearning back is a death knell.

        Your declaration of love for mysteries has made my day. I am so pleased.

      • But ‘Mysteries’ needs to be clarified. Which ones do you love so much for example? I just love the mysterious in general

      • Mmm hmm, the mysterious is a draw. When the sky has a certain look, that abandoned barn in the neighborhood whose owners no one ever knew, a darkening path in the woods, why do those two people love one another (not solvable, but why not spend hours examining the form and the lines of that one), the mysteries of the faith, the legendary house in the forest guarded by people who chase away those who come to stare at it…all those things. And Miss Marple on Sunday night. Particularly if Miss Marple will be Geraldine McEwan.

  11. Thanks Brielle: words of wisdom.
    I have decided to just surrender to it if need be and forget the guilt.

    Anything to make it all easier!

    I always resurface eventually ( like the narcissus )

  12. jennyredhen

    Six weeks in hospital is a long time..I am sure the operation will be a success .. have you heard of it failing?? Also you are still young..so will mend well. Is the hospital nice?? the hospital where my daughterinlaw had her baby was like a mansion.. fabulous artworks , .the food was incredible etc

    • The hospital is a bit grim and depressing to be honest even if the surgeon is meant to be the best. I have looked at testimonials but then decided I didn’t want to hear about failures, only successes, as I am scared enough as it is!

  13. Russell

    “Future generations will look back on TV as the lead in the water pipes that slowly drove the Romans mad.”

    -Kurt Vonnegut

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