Life - Love, Lust & Loneliness

[Image description: the writer drinking a cup of coffee in an empty restaurant.]

As the title above suggests, I shall be writing here about my own personal life and specifically the subjects of love, lust and loneliness. For much of the past twenty-one years I have been mainly house-bound and for much of that time I have been bed-bound with my chronic illnesses and disabilities. Despite seldom seeing friends and loved ones, as I have stated on previous occasions, I may be alone but I am not lonely in my aloneness.

My solitary existence, for the most part, suits my intrinsic introversion. I enjoy my own company; just being with myself, my thoughts, my daydreams, my memories. From being a very young boy I loved reading and would while away whole days reading. To this day, even though I am seldom able to read any extended writing, I continue to consider my old favourites as friends. In case that sounds strange to some readers, what I mean is that in reading my imagination was engaged and via it my intellect, my emotions, my whole being became absorbed in the tale. I formed strong bonds with individual tomes. As a child and into early adulthood, if I had a book in one of my hands, I was far from being or feeling lonely.

Thinking back on the times in my life when I have felt lonely, they were occasions when I needed people. As an older child and then a teenager, abusive parents meant the care & nurture I should have received at home had to be found elsewhere. And later, much later, when sexuality reared its head, the need to excise lust probably scarred me with the deepest loneliness I can recall. As I have aged, and opportunities for sexual dalliance have presented themselves, that deep lustful loneliness has all but dissipated, save for the occasional, sporadic prick of pain in my heart accompanying some wistful - often lustful - thinking, as well as on occasion during my annual, extended sojourns for recuperation purposes in Andalusia. In the latter case, being far from one’s usual support network stirs up feelings of separation and thus loneliness. At these times the lust I experience is more for physical rather than sexual contact (though of course the latter includes the former).

Still, I remain oddly optimistic and tend to have faith in people until disappointed by egotism, narcissism, disloyalty, dishonesty or neglect. I have lost friends I had thought were very close. I realise that there has been a pattern to many of these failed affinities: generally straight guys, who even as they confessed their love for me, recoiled at the failure of their own self-image of allegedly being a woman’s man. That goes for whether they were a friend or a lover.

I suppose part of the problem is that British culture does not specifically nor generally distinguish the different types of love: child-parent, amity, in-love, erotic, sympathy, empathy, love-in-action, amour-propre - for all of these we simply use one single term, love. We do not have opportunities to discuss the nature nor ramifications of these loves when in the education system. I think teenagers these days are given relationships education; but I suspect it only covers sexual and in-love affinities. It would be good if all types of love and a full range of affinities were contemplated.

Perhaps mine and my male friends are merely creatures of the socio-cultural milieu in which we were raised. I was in my late teens and early adulthood in the early 1980s when the AIDS crisis was at its peak with all the frenzy, aggression and rabid homophobia that surrounded it. This must have effected and affected straight men in ways that I do not suspect anyone bothered to study. So, when my chums have come to a realisation that they love me - that is feel emotions towards me, attachment, endearment - they suddenly see the monolith of homosexual torment from our shared youth. Most have not read the books and novels dealing with themes of male friendship. They are not students of sociology nor psychology. Naturally they flinch and then ultimately recoil from any declaration of emotional connectivity to another man.

No doubt, some will label me maudlin, overly sentimental or even masochistic for constantly holding all my current and former friends very dearly within my heart. From my perspective they are honed precious-stones that form the diadem of my life’s loves and as such are to be treasured always. Each jewel is different. I do not believe upon reflection that any two loves I have had felt the same. Having exclusive qualities each love was unique in how I felt about it, reäcted to it and expressed it. I have heard others speak similarly, but do not know whether this is a universal experience.

I suppose, prior to the popularity of the internet, I missed seeing my friends so regularly. I wrote letters as often as I could. But I was no longer able to dash around the country each weekend visiting this or that chum. Social media, for disabled people like me - stuck at home for the majority of their lives - has been a boon in helping to keep friendships alive, and not just with those scattered to other parts of the globe. I can socialise as much or as little as I please. As an introvert, too much contact can be very draining. Periodically I take time out from all social media to boost my sociability batteries. Like most things in life, moderation of usage is key. Nonetheless, the internet, at least for me, has been a way to be social. I have made acquaintances and some good friends all over the world. If I need to talk, there is usually someone available.

A further way of keeping loneliness at bay that I find useful is using dating apps. Most of these are not just set up for finding prospective partners, but for friend-making too. All these apps have a chat function, where real-time texts can be exchanged. Some of them even offer video-chat. Whilst using these apps over the past few years, I have had conversations and discussions about politics, the economy, Art, books, films, plays, cooking, baking, holiday destinations, and so on. This is just the same as having a chat down the pub, only without the pint of beer in front of me - ha, ha!

I have also met people with whom I have gone on dates. Very occasionally I have met a play-mate. I do not lust for the most part when I do not have a boyfriend. Even with a boyf I only lust when an appropriate expression of it can take place. To be frank: I have very little energy, even for masturbation; so, having a sex-date every now and then is sufficient for my needs. Yes, I should very much like to have a full-time boyfriend. However, realistically I do not have the physical ability nor stamina to date frequently, let alone participate in sexual pleasures. At this point in my life, and with no prospect of amelioration in my health, I should settle for a meet-up once a month with a friend-with-benefits (a person with whom one has sex, but without the intention of deepening the relationship beyond friendship).

My life thus far, at fifty-four, has been filled with all kinds of love with relatives, friends, the children I taught, boyfriends, even girlfriends and one long-term partner. I feel very blessed when I take out my diadem and look at all the different gemstones. I have had periods of lust, but due to my condition it is for the most part an entity of my past. I do not feel any sense of loneliness. For the past twenty years I have been quite happy - despite my situation - and am content, in that I am accepting of my life’s situation. To a degree - obviously I need carers for some things - I am very self-sufficient.

To all the relatives and friends, from my past and my present, whom I hold dear, I express gratitude for the shared love we had or which is ongoing. I thank one & all with all my heart. 💕

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I wrote this two year back and forgot all about. I was tidying up my documents folder and came across it. So now published herewith.

Remembrance Day

 

On the eleventh day of the eleventh month we remember: today is Remembrance Day.

We especially remember today the sacrifice of soldier-conscripts, police-officers, fire-fighters, ambulance-workers, stretcher-bearers, medics, civil defence volunteers and all others swept up in the evils of war.

We recall the sacrifice too of the animals used in warfare: horses; mules; donkeys; dogs; pigeons; and mascots.

I personally reflect upon the effort of members of my family who were directly involved in the war-front (Great Uncle Ted - a life-long professional soldier in India who died at Ypres; Grandad Cyril - Far East; Grandad Doug - Arnhem) and those who were obliged to stay home to work for the war-effort in essential jobs (Grandad Horace).

We also recall the huge effort made by wimminfolk to take up the jobs left by their menfolk, and especially those who worked & died in the armaments industry.

We recall the civilians killed in war-time: those who had different opinions, such as Communists, Socialists; those who had a different religion, such as Jews, Jehovahs Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists; we recall those who had different life-styles, Homosexuals & other Queers like myself, Romanies; and those just killed because they were in the wrong place by guns or bombs. 

I remember all the tens of thousands of disabled people, just like me, who were killed under the NAZI’s Aktion T4 programme, the precursor to the Holocaust. And additionally all those disabled folk euthanised by countries like USA and India even when not in a state of war, but in wars against their own citizens.

We remember the indigenous peoples killed to make way for colonists or to gain access to assets. We remember those killed by colonial powers so that they could retain hold on colonies, such as Belgian Congo or British Raj in India.

We remember all those places where war still rages, such as Syria, Yemen.

We recall the deaths of the poor due to actions of the rich, the exploitative economic war of extreme social injustice waged across much of the World.

As a Quaker and Pacifist, I also remember the sacrifice of the conscientious-objectors, who remind us all that Peace can always be an alternative. Many were forced to work in dangerous mines and died as a result.

We are thankful for all those who have helped to bring Peace, no matter their rôle, and brought wars to an end.

We shall remember them. 🙏🏻💕🌺

[Image description: my Great Uncle Ted in his Indian uniform and in his WWI attire.]

Blackberry-Picking

One of my lovely neighbours, Natalie, and I did our almost annual bramble-hunt a couple of weekends ago. Our previous record was two kilos. This time we beat it and collected two-and-a-third kilos of blackberries (image below are the unwashed and unsorted berry-fruits). All gratis, courtesy of Mother Nature. The plants are over-laden this year, with plenty of fruits left for our wildlife friends. There are even blooms of future berries still flowering everywhere.

If you do go blackberry-picking, remember not to pick those at a level they could have been urinated upon by dogs. Also, do not collect from the sides of busy roads as pollutants may have adhered to the fruits. When you return home, cleanse your fruit in cold water with a splash of spirit, wine or cider vinegar - not malt (top image below). The brambles may have been walked over by slugs, snails, insects, spiders, mice or birds, so this helps ensure no bugs are passed on to people!

I used my collection to make fruit crumbles (top two images below), some of which will be shared with shielding friends. I also hoped housemate would go out to purchase some cheap vodka. He did. With it I placeD some of the berries in a container and covered with the alcohol (bottom image). This will be stowed until Christmas when it will be served up as a warming Yuletide liqueur. My neighbour is going to attempt to make crème de mure. Other uses are in jams, fruit wine or added to a Rumtopf. Enjoy!

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Manchester Lockdown Farce!

Well, as many Mancunians know, if one has passed a pub over the past few days there has been NO social-distancing, NO masks being worn whatsoever in many venues (excepting staff), and I very much suspect zero hand-washing (excepting staff).

As I understand the governmental guidelines the responsibility falls upon the proprietor to ensure the health measures are adhered to. But as we know, that is contrary to their pecuniary self-interest (for which some blame falls on the UK Government for insufficient financial support to many businesses).

Furthermore, if the Authorities, in this instance the Greater Manchester Police and the Greater Manchester Local Authorities fail to oversee pubs and eateries, then inebriated folk are going to skip safety-measures. Public alcohol-consumption during a pandemic is risky at best and downright negligent at worst. 

[Image description: person drinking a very generous G&T.]

If the Authorities are unable or incapable of adequately and appropriately supervising establishments where alcohol is being served, then all licences should be temporarily suspended during lock-down periods.

My experience on Saturday evening (1st August) was the vast majority of drinkers were at the younger end of the age spectrum, i.e. under forty. However, one person’s observations cannot be generalised. Nonetheless, it will be interesting to see whether there is a rise in infections amongst younger folk.

I sincerely hope that the Mayor of Manchester is able to get a firm grip on the situation; but currently I somehow doubt very much he will do so.

This article was written in response to the following article (q.v.) from the Independent:

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/coronavirus-manchester-major-incident-lockdown-a9650661.html?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=INDNEWS%2303082020&utm_term=IND_Headlines_Masterlist_CDP

International M.E. Awareness Day 2020

I have not been well enough at this time of the year since 2017, so this is my first blog-post to mark the international Myalgic Encephalomyelitis awareness day in three years. (Underneath this blog-post is a list of words and terms, click on any of the ones referring to M.E. to find some of my previous outpourings.)

Under the UK’s current N.I.C.E. Guidelines and by my NHS hospital specialist, I am classified as having the severe form of M.E. There are three official categories: mild, moderate, & severe. However, the severe category itself covers a range of folk from those who are mostly bed-bound, like myself, to those who cannot ingest food or water and have to be kept alive via feeds.

In my previous blog-post I wrote:

“M.E. is not about being tired all the time. It is not a psychiatric illness as the UK’s psycho-cabal (along with their colleagues in Holland & Denmark) would have us believe. It is a multi-systemic, neurological disease (recognised for decades as such by the WHO, currently under ICD-10 G93.3). There are 106 conditions on my health spreadsheet; 104 are connected with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. Only three are related to sleep. Under the WHO’s ICD-10 I have conditions under sections I, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XVIII & XIX.”

I have mulled over the possible threat to my privacy and so forth, but have decided to publish the full list of my conditions. Obviously I have had to hide certain personal details to prevent identity-theft. I am not publishing this list to garner sympathy. My hope is that the reader will come to realise just how ghastly this disease is in its depth and breadth of conditions and symptoms. Many of these are covered in the broad and all-enveloping rubric of the term Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, many are classed as co-morbidities; but which is which is very much still debated.

The list below has not been updated since 2016. However, since that time my medications have altered. I have left the original medicines listed so one has a sense of what is or, in most instances, is not available.

The European Parliament recently unanimously voted for more funding for research into the biological causes of M.E., because despite millions suffering across Europe (and indeed the World), very little is invested into medical research. Individuals with the worst form of M.E. have worse quality of life scores than any other measured illness, including cancers and AIDs. Because we are hidden in our homes, we are ignored or dismissed. Please consider donating time or money to a Myalgic Encephalomyelitis charity or research proposal.

Visiting My Local Supermarket During Lock-Down

Well, what a morning - totally exhausted!

Breaking my quarantine:

After twenty-two days of self-isolation, my stores of foodstuffs have been depleted. Whilst I have succeeded for the past fortnight to get fresh aliments and some staples home-delivered, I have been unsuccessful in my attempts at obtaining a delivery-slot from local supermarkets, and this week I could only source a small, insignificant basket of goods from a farm. Many disabled folk who rely on home-delivery have been unable to get their usual slots and there are many who are going without food. The national government has been extremely ill-organised in its whole dealings with regards the pandemic, and appears to have had no contingency plans in place/ However, my local authority ,Trafford, is telephoning folk it believes may be vulnerable and need support to check whether they do so. I have been very critical of my local authority in the past few years, but it is good to be able to applaud them for acting so pro-actively in this instance.

Preparations:

I awoke really early so I could be ready to shop at my local supermarket, Waitrose, along with the other vulnerables during the first hour of the opening-hours set aside for us. My housemate, Rico, who often acts as my principle carer, helped me dress as it was way too early for one of my regular carer calls. I decided upon clothing that could be stripped and go straight into the laundry upon my return home. I donned a long-sleeved top over a T-shirt, gloves to keep my hands germ-free and a scarf, in case it was needed to wrap around my face. Rico loaded the wheelchair into the back of the car. I grabbed a load of bags and my wallet, and we set off a little after nine, store opening-time.

At the supermarket:

I was rather pleasantly surprised at how organised everything is. There are markers at two-metre intervals so shoppers queuing can ensure they retain social-distance. For the most part customers kept their distance bar one odd curmudgeonly old git. The queue moved quite briskly and we were less than five minutes outside. Staff were extremely helpful. They were also very polite and apologetic to the three sets of customers who complained (in that time-frame) at them because they were not permitted to enter until ten and were thus turned away. The first hour of shopping has been reserved for the past fortnight at most large shops for the elderly and other vulnerable folk; and this fact has been in the newspapers and on the news programmes. If individuals have missed a trick, then that is their problem and they ought to accept their oversight with good grace rather than taking out their frustrations on hard-working staff. Let’s face it: we are meant to be staying at home and not visiting others, so most would not have good reason to be in a rush to be elsewhere!

A manager taught me how to use self-scan. I don’t recommend it for big sprees when this is all over, but probably good for a quick grab-and-go shop. However, it meant only I was handling the shopping. I wheeled round the whole store, whilst Rico pushed the trolley and packed the bags as we went along the shelves.

All the counters (butchery, fishmongery & deli), the café and the self-serve coffee-maker were shut down; but the bakery is still churning out fresh loaves - ours was still warm when we picked it up. The flour area was devoid of anything other than bread-making flour, but with no yeast available it was standing untouched. I had a kind server hand me down a bread-mix containing its own yeast medium, so if necessary I can make some bread of my own - well, actually, Rico is the resident bread-baker, so it would be over to him.

Normally, at the point where we reach the café, we should have stopped for a cup of coffee and a snack, a short rest and then continue with the task at hand. However, the café has now been turned into an extended holding area for customers awaiting to be allocated a cashier to assist.

The freezer-zone looks as if locusts have passed through. Plenty of frozen spinach to be had though! Toilet-rolls are aplenty, but rationed to two packs per shopper. We have plenty from our BREXIT stores, but did buy another pack of kitchen-roll. There were hardly any tissues, but I succeeded in finding a double-pack of Kleenex on a low-shelf - one advantage to being in the wheelchair. Similarly, there were no general cleaning sprays.

Results:

Thankfully, barring a handful of items, I obtained everything on my extended shopping-list. I am thankful that This Easter I shall be able to have a traditional lamb-roast, even if the friends who may no longer attend are absent. I shall certainly raise a toast to absent friends and say a few prayers for them.

[Image description: kitchen-counter covered in shopping and food preparation.]

Afterwards:

One hour and fifteen minutes from leaving the house, we stepped back over the threshold. I immediately stripped off my outer-layers, gloves & shoes and went to wash my hands. After stowing the shopping and washing the fruit & vegetables, intermittently re-washing my hands after dealing with packaging, I returned to my room and had a hot soapy shower. Hopefully, I shall have managed to bypass the virus. I should not need. To go out again for another three weeks or so. Thus there is time to see whether I do develop any symptoms. Fingers crossed. And my prayers for all.

Coronavirus versus Terrorism

[Image description: two panel cartoon strip; panel1, an elderly chap sitting in front of a television-set watches a scared-looking news-reporter shout, “WHAT CAN WE DO TO LESSEN THE GRIP OF FEAR FROM TERRORISM?”; panel 2, the viewer breaks the fourth wall, looks at us with a sly smile having “CLICK”-ed his remote-controller and turned off the TV. The image is by and © Bruce Beattie and was published in the Daytona Beach News-Journal.]

I shared the above cartoon on my facebook account in 2013. Since then the news media have reported endless stories of terrorism. As a resident all my life of England, I grew up with the constant threat of terrorism from the IRA. There were bomb-threats when I worked in the city of Manchester in the 1980s. I thankfully missed the Manchester bombing back in 1996 due to fortuitous circumstances. I and many others became inured to the threats because we lived with them daily. The peace-process ended with a stand-down of the opposing forces starting in 1998. Not long afterwards so-called “Islamic” terrorism (which has nothing to do with this peaceful religion) became the main focus of news media. Despite much of the hysteria around terrorism, statistically one is more likely to die from an injury in the home or a vehicle crash.

I question whether folk have now become jaded to the almost incessant news of fresh “terrorist“ attacks, and hence the current media compulsion to use scare-tactics regarding a virus? The death-rates as currently published, are lower than for ordinary influenza (‘flu). The media are fanning an hysteria. Why? Scared citizens can be controlled much easier than rational, thinking individuals. It is also a convenient cover for powers-that-be to quietly, or otherwise, remove rights and curtail freedoms.

Perhaps terrorism and coronavirus are intrinsically the same, means by which to cower and control populations who otherwise might become aware of other matters which élites wish to hide.

Panicking is totally unhelpful. Pause to think and ponder. Evaluate risk calmly. Postulate what the powerful are actually up to.

[Image description: graph indicating death rates for age deciles gradually increasing from 10 (0.2%) to 80+ (14.8%)]

BREXIT Blues

Normally my first post of the year is the publication of one of my poems. I am breaking that tradition this year. I am not celebrating the more than six-hundred thousand viewings of my blog either.

[Image description: on a grey background the words “Sad, sad day. #BREXIT.”]

As a blog that proudly has the word European in its name, I am compelled to lament the United Kingdom leaving our friends, allies and main trading-bloc in the European Union.

I very much suspect that this action will be seen as foolhardy in the not too distant future. I fully anticipate that we Bremainers will fight for however long it takes to rejoin the EU in the future (just as the Brexiteers have fought to exit since the day we first joined in 1972, some forty-eight years ago). I suppose we need to let the old guard die off and then the youth and young adults can assert their optimism and hope in the European project.

Please do not give up on Britain, my fellow Europeans. We may be an island, but - in spirit if no longer legally - we are still part of the continent of Europe. I hope that the day will come very soon when we can once again proudly play Ode to Joy.

[Image description: the EU flag, twelve golden stars forming a circle on a Royal blue background]

Ciao! Bis bald! ¡Hasta pronto! Au revoir!

🤓