Brain’s firing; do meds improve the wiring?
They’re cream crackered. All of them. Sluggish in the Supreme Court? Completely. Drained by ‘no deals?’ Utterly. Fed up with fighting back? Whichever side they’re on? Totally. Even when Luxembourg’s PM lost it, prompting podium gate, exhausted eyebrows stayed put. Foreheads were frozen.
Perhaps a trip to the vet’s the answer?
“Within a month or so of taking her new treat twice a day, she was counter surfing and attempting to chase cars on our walks. It's made a HUGE difference in her quality of life...and undoubtedly extended it."
"Just want to thank you (again) for making Hazel feel SO MUCH better! What a difference! She’s running, playing in the park & eating like I’ve never seen her eat before."
HEMP’S A HIT!
A relative’s dog’s on Hemp. Or Cannabidiol. It’s all above board, well checked, and what a transformation! Her spring had sprung, now she’s a canine captivated by life.
Perhaps our world-weary politicians should give it a go? Might even reboot the sleep deprived soul above.
Free time? The UK Parliament’s got 5 weeks of it. Across the pond, (the now former,) National Security Advisor, John Bolton’s diary’s just opened up. He’s disputing claims that he was ‘Trump Dumped,’ because the President, “disagreed strongly with many of his suggestions,” but he’s out the door, just the same.
MAKE THE MOST OF YOUR MOUSTACHE MR. BOLTON!
The bright side? A chance to re-boot those FOX TV appearances, and enjoy more leisurely moustache trims. No rushing back to the office now, for fights with the President over those Kim Jong-il fireside chats.
PROROHHHH-GING - POGUE-ING - VOGUING
But the prorogation (pron. Prorohhhh-gation,) of Parliament: - not to be confused with, ‘Pogue – ing;’ American military slang for, “not on the front line. Easy job, mate.” (Wikipedia. Interpreted.) Or even, ‘Voguing;’ (house dance, with poses, still a ‘thing.’ Madonna’s bag.)
No, the prorogation of the British Parliament is a Royal request, on the advice of the British Minister to ‘shut up shop.’ Everyone keeps their jobs, but debates and votes are done away with. Temporarily.
NETFLIX SURFING? NOT A CHANCE...
However, no-one’s at home Netflix surfing, (45% percent of Brits watch TV in their free time says one survey.) Boris says he’s still negotiating that deal but preparing to leave without one. The opposition’s doing their utmost to make no deal disappear altogether.
WHITE HOUSE JOB WOES
Prorogation or no, keeping your job in the Trump White House is almost as rare as Boris Johnson heading to Brussels and saying: ‘this Brexit’s just bonkers. Terrible mistake. Let’s keep things the way they were eh. Let me buy you a British,(some things never change,) beer, Michel?” (Michel Barnier, top Brexit negotiator.)
Headlining, at time of writing: ‘President Launches fresh attack on ‘bonehead’ Federal Reserve chief’. Only hours after Bolton’s been told to wander off. (Apologies to the football club with similar name.) The Bolton sacking’s now yesterday’s news, and 3 Scottish Judges have just decided that all this prorogation’s a legal ‘no, no.’
YOU'RE NOT SUFFERING SOLO
If you’re at your desk, and desperate for some free Netflix surfing time of your own, take comfort. The world’s movers and shakers, givers and takers, are also up to their ears. You’re not suffering solo.
.........so much still to learn...see blog 'Dementia Friendly,' WHAT? In 2 blog posts below this, Below.....
SHOCK REST ROOM REVELATION!
"......And guess WHAT? Many of the people I met, some of whom had dementia/alzheimers, could GO TO THE GENTS/LADIES BY THEMSELVES!' (more in 'Dementia Friendly WHERE, Clare?') Below..."
Just been. To. St. Mary. Barnes. Dementia. Friendly. Carol Service. Staccato punctuation, because it's worth emphasis.
Cute kids, sheets and (tons of) tinsel? There's always a place for that. But ordinary becoming extraordinary's more my bag.
By the way; no-one drooled. Even if they had, who cares? Babeeee Jeeeesus wasn't toilet trained at birth; though sanitised femfresh faith, would have us think otherwise.
This was quite the opposite. Whole person, faith. Whole lives, including tears and fears, welcome. Smiling, WAS allowed, though. And there was plenty of it. "Brexit", wasn't mentioned once.
SHOCK REST ROOM REVELATION!
And guess WHAT? Many of the people I met, some of whom had dementia/alzheimers, could GO TO THE GENTS/LADIES BY THEMSELVES!
St Mary's church, Barnes, hosted. Supported by the lovely Dover House Singers (in appropriate Christmas jumpers); conducted by musical maestro, Carl Speck. Anyone who can corall a choir, a mixed ability congregation ( I refer to my own screeching/singing here), a rogue toddler, into some semblance of a Christmas celebration, deserves Lloyd Webber's Knighthood.
Bleak? No. Groundbreaking, yes.
My Mum had Parkinsons, and could still recognise 'In the Bleak Midwinter', (which we sang with tenderness), even in the illness's later stages. She liked the first and last verse:
"What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part, Yet what can I give him: give my heart."
Dementia or no, that's more than enough for the Godself, don't you think?