This Monday is Labour Day in Australia and a long weekend for most of us, as we enjoy the last month or so of Summer. Darrell is working today, so it gives me an opportunity to sit down and do some blogging. I won't be going out, and I am taking the opportunity to relax and unwind, after a particularly difficult few weeks!
My sleeping has been rather erratic if I am honest; one day I sleep well, the next, anything but. Ever since I moved from Spain to my Aunts house in Britain in 2018, my sleeping patterns have just got worse. Living in Portsmouth, surrounded by my adorable Cousins, was an experience I wouldn't change for the World. They were particularly young, however, and would often wake up in the early hours of the morning. Consequently, I found myself getting up earlier and earlier. Today I am awake by 4 am most days. Despite this, it hasn't affected my work, whether blogging, writing or my retail job. In fact, I thrive on getting up at the crack of dawn, especially enjoying this beautiful time of day.
When I get home from work, I eat my rather small dinner — usually I wouldn't eat after 4.30pm, but because of my job, this just isn't possible. Instead, I eat a large lunch and keep it simple in the evening. After dinner, I briefly sit down for an hour, watching GB News from home, or YouTube, and I am in bed by 8.30 pm — what a life eah! It certainly isn't the rock and roll lifestyle I used to have when I was younger, or even when I was living in Spain, but it serves us well at the moment. As we work hard to pay off the mortgage in a record 9 years, we are hopefully improving our options for the future, and this is important!
I find myself becoming a lot more reclusive as I get older — I stumbled across a cucumber in the freezer this morning, and thought f*ck, is this the first sign of dementia. I decided not to google the implications of this mishap and just put it to the back of my mind. Furthermore, I think, I was probably half asleep whilst making lunch and accidentally put it in the top of the freezer, instead of the vegetable draw of the fridge. Oh, and I can draw a clock face perfectly (if you can't, it is probably a sign of cognitive decline!) And of course, writing helps to keep my brain active, which is always great, especially recalling memories, I would have otherwise forgotten.
I have also had a few knee and leg issues for the last couple of weeks, which has been rather annoying. I had a feeling the aches and pains had something to do with my feet. Don't ask me why, it was just a feeling I had. So, I did some googling, carried out a few tests, and discovered I have high arches — who'd have thought it. I always believed I had flat feet, but no, completely the opposite.
After doing some research online, I discovered the Skechers shoes I normally wear, may not be right for my feet. I came across a brand of shoes called 'Hoka' that may just help with the pain after a long day at work. It turns out the shoes were quite easy to procure and last Sunday I went to 'Athletes Foot,' a shop in Australia, and spoke to a lovely lad called Bradly, who helped me with my concerns.
For the first time, since I was a child, I had my feet measured and my walk or 'gait' assessed — finally I got some answers. I have different size feet, which are a D width and yes, I have those dreaded high arches. I asked Bradly about the "Hoka' shoes online, and he selected three pairs that would be suitable. At a cost of $300, they aren't cheap, but after wearing them for a week now, my feet feel bloody fantastic.
It's very odd getting old, I am finding it particularly difficult and challenging. I appear to have a new ailment every day, and it does get me down. The aches and pains never seem to get any easier, and both Darrell and I constantly moan about the way we are feeling — just two old 90s clubbers no longer living life in the fast lane. When I look back over the ten years since starting this blog, I am aware, that my health and wellbeing has changed out of all proportion. When I lived in Spain, I didn't really have a care in the World. I would drink copious amounts of beer whenever I wanted; equally, I would eat terribly and smoke cheap Spanish cigarettes, not giving my health a second thought.
When I returned to the UK, suddenly my health became a priority, especially after watching my mother die in hospital in 2019. Instantly, I began suffering with health anxiety, and every little twinge sent me running to see the Doctor. Today, even though I am better in many respects, I have been left with a huge anxiety hangover and still worry about my body and approaching old age. I was hoping that would disappear in time, but it hasn't. As I've gotten older, more perceived afflictions have come to the fore, consequently my health anxiety remains, albeit in a much milder form.
This evening, I've just gotten off the phone with my father. We don't talk as often as I would like, but surprisingly we both have busy lives to contend with. Dad is 77 and remains fairly active and probably has more of a social life than me. When we speak, it's about our respective ailments/illnesses, and it's great to connect with him on these very important issues; the reality is, I don't have anyone else to talk to, about them.
Dad is getting older and the niggly conditions he has, seem to be worsening, as one would expect. For this reason, I worry about him constantly. It is difficult living so far away, and there are times I would dearly love to be closer. When I am able, I hope to return to see Dad, probably next year. We haven't seen each other in two and a half years and my father is the only real family I have left now, so it is essential we stay as close as we can despite the distance between us.
We also enjoy talking about politics — tonight we discussed President Trump and the shameful way he treated President Zelenskyy in the Whitehouse. Like Dad, I am shocked and disgusted by this strange Trumpian World we are now living in, and both of us are concerned about the way the World is heading.
I am frequently told I am living in the safest place, down under, as the rest of the World appears to be heading closer to war. Nevertheless, with Dad back in Britain and my friends also firmly back home, my anxiety is becoming worse. I wake every morning expecting more bad news from America and an increasingly unhinged President, creating mayhem and madness wherever he goes. This isn't a World I like anymore, and I fear for all our futures, as we continue the march to World War III. It's thoughts like these that concern my sensibility but also keep me grounded, and fully aware of circumstances that affect us all, no matter where we live in the World!
I suppose today has been about getting stuff off my chest, which is what a personal blog is all about. A reader of roamingbrit wrote to me a few days ago, explaining how blogs such as mine are few and far between now. Most blogs are trying to sell something, advertise corporate sponsorship or encourage readers to click on this link or that. This decade old diary, however, is just about a simple, personal journey that continues, often in the most mundane way.
People like to feel a part of another person's life, like big brother looking in, and I am happy to share my experiences. I hope it helps people like you on your own travels, navigating this complicated, frustrating and often complicated and confusing battle called life; I am thankful it also helps me, even on the darkest of days. Life goes on, bloggers keep blogging, Trump keeps bullying, and my anxiety still persists, but hey, at least it gives me something to write about!
