Taking a razor to Picasso

The Absinth Drinker – Picasso… desecrated

Imagine you have been given a picture by Picasso, and you take it home and choose a place to hang it…but its just a bit too wide for the space… so you get out a razor and cut off a foot or so of canvas. Slice… Hack.. Desecration? Most certainly. Picasso weeps.

Imagine you are in a restaurant about to eat the famous signature dish of the renowned chef Escoffier… You scrape off the sauce and sprinkle the remainder of the dish with salt. The chef stares and explodes with wrath and throws you out of his restaurant.

Imagine you are in a concert hall, to hear a great work of Mozart… half way through the second movement you get up and leave before the beauty of the last movement has even begun.. Mozart turns in his unknown grave.

Imagine you are a member of an audio book club and search for your favourite author to hear his wonderful literary offerings …

you find that your favourite works have been abridged,….

Grrrrrrrrrr

Convalescence

Home from the hospital and having to severely talk to myself to be good, and not overdo things.  Why is it I get the urge to change my curtains, wash my rugs, clean out my cupboards, go on a trip, do a grocery shop (even though I did everything I needed to do before I went in for the op)? I must be on some psychological ‘kick’ because I had the urge to do all those things within a day.

I am being good, and taking my medications, (antibiotics and anti inflammatories) but I confess I havent needed pain killers except for a sore throat from the intubation, and that was only a discomfort rather than pain, and that only for a couple of days.

The one thing I was nervous about was being a wuss.. I seem to have got off lightly since the has been very small amounts of pain.  I am thankful.

I am sleeping at odd times, there is no sleep pattern, its all higgledy piggledy.  Overall I feel better than I expected to.  Perhaps the symptoms of the previous problem were more than I realised, or I had got used to them.  Perhaps I will feel significantly better having had the operation, and that is what I am experiencing now.

Its all good.

I am VERY grateful to my friends and family who have shown such interest in my recovery, and helped to promote it,.  Thank you.

Audacity

Like most people, I remember where I was on 9/11/2001. I was standing in the street outside a sports bar on the island of Corfu. I was on holiday. We stopped to stare at the big tv screen and watched the twin towers fall.

I remember thinking about the audacity of the act.

au·dac·i·ty [aw-das-i-tee]
noun, plural au·dac·i·ties.
1. boldness or daring, especially with confident or arrogant disregard for personal safety, conventional thought, or other restrictions.
2. effrontery or insolence; shameless boldness: His questioner’s audacity shocked the lecturer.
3. Usually, audacities. audacious acts or statements.

I didnt know the people in those buildings or the rescuers who had gone in to save them.
I remember thinking only of the audacity of those who did such a thing. How does one plan and envisage such an act?  How does one think its ok do such a thing? What sort of mind dreams that up and executes it?  I still wonder.

A hug to all America today.

Dividing the Spoils

I am going into Hospital on Friday for a relatively small procedure to fix a bit of me that is falling off. There are several bits that need a good mechanic, but this one is probably a bit more dangerous to be left alone, so I am going to have it fixed. People dont die of it, nor is it a dangerous procedure, but you know, one gets to thinking….

Anyway, I was wondering, since I havent made a will, perhaps this would do? Is a blog a ‘document’ and if I state my wishes here, would it count?

If it does, I want any money left over after expenses to be divided equally between my two sons. They can take any of my posessions that they want. Check the books carefully before you send them to the charity shops, as some of them are first editions. I want my wedding ring to go to my youngest son’s lady.

That’s all really… I think I am of sound mind. You might question that after reading this post 🙂

Work

Work by Ford Madox Brown

Why do you work? Why do you do your job, that particular job you do?

Do you do it for the money? Do you do it because there is no better job available?

I do my job because it suits my life pretty well. I can manage the physical demands on my body (just), it’s close to where I live, it is mostly emotionally rewarding, the hours suit me and the things I want and need to do outside work.

Mostly the boss leaves me alone to get on with it, but comes down pretty heavy if I mess up. Fair enough.

If I do it well, the boss mostly doesnt tell me I did well. Achievement goes unnoticed, or unremarked. I think this is not a good way for a boss to be.

Bosses get rewards by being bosses. They have a higher level of esteem and self-esteem through their job, and tangible rewards in the form of better pay and better conditions. Those at the lower levels, like me, are not rewarded in these ways. My pay is about as low as you can get in this country, I have little or no status in the company, and only the comfort of the friendship I have for and from my colleagues and the expressed satisfaction of my clients to give me emotional rewards.

I think it is the duty of employers and bosses and managers to encourage and reward their staff at lower levels. The loyalty of their staff (without which their job would be a nightmare) should be acknowledged frequently.