Went to another meeting with a cancer support group this week, Butterflies in Poundbury, Dorchester. I go to these meetings to present myself and my unctuous story and despite my feelings of insecurity and self-doubt they’ve gone well so far in terms of people expressing interest and getting involved in discussion. This one began as with others and discussion was open and free flowing until a woman who had arrived late started talking. It was her first time at this group and she told a truly heart wrenching story about herself, all the time with a big beatific smile on her face. Essentially she has very recently been diagnosed with having several tumours in her brain, doctors giving conflicting views on treatment and the high probability of impending death. How in the last week she’s been given heavy duty treatment which has severely compromised her life, for example she can’t drive, and very disconcerting ‘side-effects’. She has a dying mother, young daughter on the threshold of adulthood and she’s sorting them all out and their futures, planning her funeral, exploring possible treatments and more and she’s still smiling. I’m blown away.
The meeting finishes, some buy my unction as a man beside me with a face disfigured from the ravages of cancer and it’s treatment opens up to me about problems in his personal life. I leave feeling out of sorts, the pathetic psychosomatic me is interpreting all my aches and pains as signs of more cancer, as I drive I think maybe I should give these meetings a miss for a while, my fragile psyche can’t cope. I rationalise that I go as a one off stranger to these groups and hear about others crabby stories, everyone personal and unique to the individual. It just seems to raise my personal anxieties.
The following day I’m called from a woman at the meeting who apologises for not talking to me before I left as she’d gone off with the aforementioned smiling woman to talk more. She tells me more about this woman, we are both blown away. Anyway she tells me that it was a really good meeting and my ‘talk’ had gone down well and had allowed and encouraged others to participate. She represents another support group in Poole and invites me to one of their meetings and despite my vow of the previous day I agree.
How fickle I am, but perhaps not as much as drumf.
Truly we are living in very strange times, I’ve just had a youtube blowout listening and watching a number of different folk talking about what is happening in drumfland. I think we need to stick the fucker in a sealed echo chamber until we find out what the hell is going on. The manboy is so evidently unfit, and listening to the likes of kellyanne conway and the extremely chilling stephen miller, a senior advisor to the narcissist, dissembling and distorting what is happening that it’s impossible to get a handle on stuff. Not sure who is more like goebbels, this miller character or bannon. He’s been the president for less than a month and already there are so many impeachable possibilities that he needs to be strait jacketed and a dummy put in his gob until people are in a proper position to understand what the hell is going on.
First up should be an investigation into his handshaking.
Closely followed by his financial situation. I am increasingly of the opinion that he is broke, or more precisely deeply in debt: to deutsche bank, the Russians and who knows who else. He still refuses to release his tax returns, every president is expected to do this, so why is this? Maybe he’s relying on a deal with the Russians through tillerson from which he’ll cash in to cover his debts. Portraying him as failing financially would be the biggest blow to his ego.
Anyway back in the ‘real world’, wherever that is, did my first day as a volunteer marine warden at a place called Kimmeridge, the first voluntary marine nature reserve in the UK. It was good to be in a different environment experiencing new stuff. I still want to be a ranger though.
And finally I’ve had confirmation from a variety of sources, not including my canine friend, of the mass resignation of pretty much the whole of the senior management team at Purbeck View School. Whilst a replacement head has been in place for a few months this represents a seismic shift for the institution. As ever no one is told why, except maybe personal reasons, family, gardening and the like. But what the bosses don’t seem to understand is that this secrecy only serves to make situations worse. Rumour is rife, people are unsettled and the one resignation needed, that of a member of the legion of narcissists who sadly are in power, is yet to happen.
For the woman who told her story with a smile on her face:
Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.