What do you wish you could do more every day?
I wish I could paint, full stop!
To be that artist in a big lofty studio with the perfect light. A huge canvas waiting to be brought to life with an array of colours.
The whole day would be stretching ahead of me. With only the birds, easily audible outside in the trees, for company.
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
Thanks all the same WordPress but I have no interest in getting inked up. If piercings had been a Thing back in my day, I may considered something. But that ship has sailed… Instead let me tell you about Otzi, the mummified body of a man, thought to be over 5000 years old, found in ice in The Alps. It was September 19th 1991 on the the North Italian/Western Austria Border that two German tourist came across his remarkably preserved body.
Historians/researchers now believe he was shot behind with an arrow. There was a hole under his left shoulder, which was destroyed.
What is absolutely extraordinary about this man is he is the first body ever to be found and recorded with tattoos. The scientists believe the 61 tattoos had been made with a pointed tool and filled with either soot or charcoal ash.
Testing has come along way since 1991, when they found his DNA to be so degraded, but since have revealed their fascinating conclusions. Otzi suffered joint and spinal degeneration. The black lines and crosses which make up the extent of his tattoos appear on his lower back, kneecaps, hips and wrist, suggesting they were from an ancient medical practice ( much like acupuncture) rather than decorative purposes. They suggest he was lactose intolerant and had suffered Lymes Disease. The contents of his last meal found in his stomach included Ibex and red deer. Both of which could and to this day carry ticks. They also found traces of a toxic bracken which could have been used to wrap the food or as a supplement.
But who was the tattoo artist?
What an amazing find and how much does it make you wonder about the ancient medical practices which we have lost?
*Otzi and his artefacts have been exhibited at the South Tyrol Museum of Archeology, in Bolzano, Italy since 1998. Not that far from where he was found. RIP Otzi.
What is one word that describes you?
Good morning Daily Prompt. Not much to say here, today. You asked for one word…Thoughtful it is…
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
Compliments are lovely things, aren’t they? I’m not sure I’ve had many over the years, boo hoo. Poor me, lol.
I got one recently though, here on WordPress. My first subscriber to this blog. The lovely lady said she liked my writing style. It meant a lot. It means a lot. I thank you x
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
Oh WP DP, I love the moment when I read what it is you have come up with for us to ponder.
A cross country trip in the UK. Lands End to John o’ Groats is the most famous, one end of the UK to the other. 603 miles, 970km as a straight line between two points. By car the shortest distance is calculated as 837 miles. A long way by our standards. Nothing if you come from vast sprawling countries.This isn’t a trip I’ve ever done, or likely to do. I’m not a huge fan of sea travel, but a trip right around the edge of the UK I think would be awesome.
I digress. Back to DP. By bike? Nah, not gonna happen. As far as I recall I’ve had two. Once when I was around 11 years old and at the weekends would cycle miles, alone, uphill, to get to the stables where I could horse ride. I loved it! Midnight, he was called. But that ended when the stepmother decided I would be better off at home bringing her and my dad breakfast in bed followed by cleaning the house. Sad, but true. Thanks dad for that. What happened to my blue and silver bike, I wonder? I also had an old fashioned racing green bike with a basket on the front when I lived in Kew Gardens, a suburb of London. No idea where that ended up, either.
Train? Tis has been a very long time since I took a train journey, and I took many. Travelling for work interviews ( another story) or down to Cornwall to see friends.
Airplane? What fine memories I have of those days! Often lucky enough to turn left on boarding. I thank NA for those days. But its not something I have in my vision at present. I do want to go and visit cherished friends, but now I have this old boy, it’s not going to be possible. His past life has left him far too traumatised to be with anyone else, safely. But the day, his day, his last day will çome.
That leaves me with my car. I love the freedom it allows us. To stop and start, come and go at will, on a whim. The only way I can get said dog from A – B, without any hassle.
A journey this afternoon was horrible when I hit a dawdling pheasant. I wasn’t going that fast. But sadly he wasn’t fast enough. I looked back through my mirror and could see him floundering on the roadside. I turned round to go and see him. It didn’t look great. In the back of my car I had a soft single Indian print sheet, from the dog’s last adventure. I crossed the road and could ascertain quickly this beautiful bird was breathing, twitching. Had I hoped he was dead? A quick death. I scooped him up. Him? Yes, his magnificent colouring told me so.
Back in the driver’s seat of the car and swaddled in the sheet I held him to me. His breathing laboured. We sat and I waited. I like to think the warmth and the security helped him. I expected his breath to stop. I sat and we waited. Slowly he appeared to regain some strength. His eyes looked clear and alert and his breathing became more regular. When he shuffled about I didn’t want him to feel anxious in captivity so I got out of the car and carried him deep into the hedgerow. As I put him down he seemed keen to get going but his tail appeared crooked and a wing held low. I felt I had made a mistake letting him go and clamoured through thick hedginging to get him back. When I finely broke through I was amazed to see his tail feathers had straightend and his wings in place. He toddled off, a bit dazed, but seemingly intact. I thanked the gods.
I was shaken up by this and happyI had a bottle of wine in my shopping bag. I couldn’t wait to get home and pour myself a nerve steadier. Which I did.
The last few days have been weird anyway… And then a pal asks how I am. I say ‘ pretty rubbish, actually ‘ or words to that effect. She goes on to tell me my oldest friend has been whisked from a small town to a city hospital with unknown issues. ……..Think he’s ok, for now
And there we are… You wake up. All seems good and then the shit hits the fan.
Who is the most confident person you know?
The power of dreams
What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?
‘ Count your blessings, Love ‘. The last words my mom said to me before she passed away. I do this, often and deeply. Acutely aware that so many folk worldwide are leading a truly horrific existence.
It’s not a strategy that works in lifting myself out of the rabbit hole though, just makes me cross with myself, that I couldn’t be more grateful.
So, down the rabbit hole I stay. I sit and I wait. Eventually it becomes light. Light enough to make my way back up and into the world….and I sit and I wait and I breathe. It’s quiet and I wait…The sun passes from behind a cloud and warms my face. A solitary robin watches me. His song tells me it is the start of a new day and I must embrace the moment. For I am lucky. I have blessings to count.
What activities do you lose yourself in?
Mmmm, not sure it’s a good idea to be lost in thought. Too many roads, windows and doors to open. Too many paths to go down.
Lost in nature, sounds good doesn’t it? But then thought comes into play. What’s wrong with thought I hear you think? Nothing, I reply, but is it a relaxing past time? Isn’t that what getting lost in something means, surely? Not to be thinking of anything else but what you are doing? There that’s put the idea of lost in thought to bed.
Lost in music? How about that? .Errr emotive? Too emotive?
Cooking? That depends how well you know your recipe. If you have to concentrate hard on what you’re doing that would pass the Lost-In Test.
Reading is another good Lost In…as long as what your reading doesn’t make you think of something else, and of you go, ‘ in thought’. I think that’s why I like Auto/biographies so much. They are just giving you the facts…well, as far as the writer sees it of course. I used to love non- fiction, but that opens the door to the imagination, doesn’t it?
I do get lost in reading how you guys answer the Daily Prompt, there’s that.
Getting lost in sport is a good way to go, I imagine. Exhausting, but you can’t become distracted, you’d need your mind on the job. Which goes for bomb disposal, I suppose. Fire fighters, paramedics, surgeons,nurses all the emergency services, for example should by definition get lost in their jobs. But where does that leave me? ‘m not into sport or any of those respected professions.
It’s clear I get lost in my imagination, that no doubt leads me astray…..I think the Buddhists have the key..Being lost in an empty mind.
Ok, so here’s the edit. I’ve just been watching something on Netflix for the last 4 blissful hours.. and there are 3 more episodes and one more season of 10 episodes to go. Yep, lost in it!!!
I thought I would write for a little while to try and cheer myself up. I usually put a lot of effort into being upbeat , but it’s just not happening these last few days.
Waking the other morning, still dark, it felt cold, a kind of gloom hanging around. In the UK after an extremely long winter we were treated to over a week of the most amazing conditions. The British public, bless them, rose to the occasion. There was a wonderful buzz in the air and strangers passing in the street would exchange their personal joy and gratitude. Summer attire, sometimes creased and aged had suddenly seen the light of day, their first outing of the year.
But as quickly as it arrived it left. Leaving us all a little dispirited, I think. We had needed that. We needed more of that.
As usual each morning I listen to LBC and look to the socials for what’s new, what’s happening, what is still happening. With a mug of fresh coffee on my bedside table and tablet in hand I began scrolling. I knew I had about 30 minutes before the dog would be telling me to ‘get up, already!’.
Immediately I read the disturbing news that for COP30 8 miles of Amazon Rainforest had been cut down to build a four-lane highway, for the summit. How ironic is that? My heart sank.
We are all aware the lunatics have been let out of the asylum to rule our world, but really are there no grown ups left in charge? Who signed off on this madness? It can’t be happening, but it is. What is Joe Public supposed to do? They all go off to the Amazon, up to 3000 of them, for wonderful jollies and we are left asking why. How about they cancelled COP30 and used the money to provide clean water across the world to the people and animals that don’t have it? The ones who get sick and die in their thousands, every single day. They just want a water pump. Is that really too much to ask. #WaterAid. That would give COP30 meaning.
I carry my frustration, anger and sadness down the stairs and begin to get the dog ready for the first of his three outings of the day. He thinks it’s fun to give chase, but I’m just not feeling it. And then to my absolute horror and disbelief I hear the chain saw, and there he is, a tree surgeon felling right behind my home. ..And what of the squirrels who live and nest there?
The hours passed and more trees came down. Not one solitary soul visited my outdoor space during that time….Then this morning the same. I had to get us in my car and leave the neighborhood. I couldn’t bear it. The noise and destruction just too much. One squirrel came back, took a quarter of an apple and left. A blackbird his mate and a couple of robust pigeons remain.
On the scale of things I know I am incredibly fortunate and there will be women all over the world who would give everything simply to have the rehoming of squirrels their main concern and the Amazon Rainforest could not be further from their minds. I get that. But it doesn’t stop me hurting, knowing that those who govern us don’t see the big picture… Or they could if ego, greed and selfishness did not cloud their vision.
Have I cheered myself by putting pen to paper here? No, not really, but if I can get one solitary person to begin voicing their concerns of how the world is governed, all is not lost. I thank you for reading this far. X
Are you superstitious?
One of my earliest memories is rabbit’s foot brooch pinned to the coat of someone I loved dearly. I never remember asking about it, but I studied it a lot. What is a child with an affinity to animals, to make of such a thing? I remember it was encased in silver and has a small yellow stone placed in the centre. Maybe Citrine. This yellow stone from the quartz family was popular in the 1920’s. Is it possible it had been handed down?
In ancient times Citrine was carried for protection against snake bites and evil spirits. In latter times to spark imagination, fresh beginnings and prosperity. Over the years being used against bad luck and today towards the good.
It is incredible how many countries around the world share superstitions, even with varying forms it’s quite extraordinary that similar beliefs are held worldwide. The exact origins of the rabbit’s foot amulet are not clear, at all. With many areas having their own ideas. There are some dark and grim associations but I prefer to look to the light. For instance the slaves of West Africa are recorded as seeing the animal as witty, intelligent and willing to strike back ( Think Mr McGregor’s garden). Others say the fertility aspect of their characteristic to be a lucky thing.
Am I superstitious? I’m certainly interested in all things spooky. A black cat crossing my path, that’s fine by me. ‘ Morning Kat’ I’d probably say. Would I walk under ladders? Why would you? To see if you are unlucky enough to have something fall on you head. Do I count magpies? No. Would I drop coins into a wishing well or throw them into a fountain? Yes.
And yesterday I ‘ touched wood’, to rouse the deities for protection.
IN THE BOOMER PIGEON HOLE? 
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