Prescriptive Walk Wednesday Thoughts

Wise El alphabet

Unusually, I slept very badly, not helped by having to get up early to pick up a prescription. But I was up and out by 09:30 and, despite the drizzle and the car needing a long run, I decided to walk. It’s been over a fortnight since I was last out and I have been getting a touch of cabin fever.

There was some stress at the thought of going into the chemist and being asked for my life history or whatever, but it was surprisingly quick and painless. In and out in minutes.

Popped into Sainsbury’s as walking to Rustington High Street in the drizzle was a madness too much. I definitely love the distances in supermarket queues – no trollies shoved into the backs of my legs by impatient shoppers, but yappers still hogged aisles yapping away.

There were half a handful of people wearing masks and gloves – so neurotic they even avoided glancing at anyone as if just making eye contact would make them instantly collapse with Covid.

Popped into The Lamb on my way back – not actually sure of the time – and the guy sitting on his own missed my joke (would I have to give a pint of blood and my inside leg measurement to come inside). No. And they have no app or anything apart from pre-booking for dinner.

Not yet open, so headed home.

I felt I had been out much longer, but it was less than two hours walking the 2 miles there, waiting and shopping and waiting again – then walking back. Not bad.

On the other hand, it is very gloomy out. Overcast and not cheery at all.

Getting a bit harsh with not accepting FBFs. No more ego-propping. Paradoxically, have been unfriended by some with massive egos who presumably did not get enough or any attention. Social media continues to be a very superficial level of friendship – which is fine, as long as I don’t forget that.

Meanwhile blabbermouth liberals are at last discovering that they too can be ‘cancelled’ for voicing opinions that other lefties do not like. Such a bunch of loathsome warts.

And, in other news, this is now the 3rd or 4th time a black female Twit has referred to me as ‘Karen’. Am guessing it is not going to just refer to ‘white women’ in this catchment but anyone who doesn’t sing from the BLM hymn book.

Watched The Alcasser Murders the other day and was reminded of the mad things I have done – like getting into a car with several men in the early hours after I had left a party and was walking back alone to my then residence in central London. They did say to me do you feel like being raped. And I replied ‘Not today, thanks’.

They then dropped me off outside the students’ rooms wishing me well.

Darker thoughts about global resets, racial divides, communism and Islam will have to wait for when I am less tired.

Ageing And Heels

More than a couple of female friends have said that wearing high heels is out as we get older. I disagree.

In my sales and training years, I wore them all day, every day. No pregnant duck, I walk well in them even now, but have got out of the habit. Plus, the shoes I’ve not given away have never really been worn in – meaning the leather pinches horribly with some.

My home is a shoe-free zone. Any socialising usually means taking the train which means a two-mile walk to the station – unless I drive somewhere. So, wearing high heels is becoming a distant memory.

I even have pairs bought and never worn so I have decided to have some heel days.

Weird Stuff

Unusual Erogenous Zone

Something most unusual has been happening while trying to remove the black rash on my neck. Soap and water don’t (Argh! Only noticed typo several hours later!!!) work so I’ve been scrubbing with rubbing alcohol and/or salicylic acid. They do work but it’s a very slow process. Apparently it could be some kind of yeast infection.

And this is the odd thing.

Rubbing away at it triggers some kind of sexual or sensual response – during the evening ablutions as well as morning and midday ones. (No one could accuse me of not keeping clean even if the splodges look anything but!)

Actually, they have reduced considerably and now look like someone has tried to garrotte me several times and failed – leaving strange wheals.

Anyway, last night, I amused myself thinking perhaps in a previous incarnation I had died from some kind of erotic suffocation. Not that I would know anything about that!


Pre-caffeine this morning, I found myself finally getting round to assembling the new work desk.

Thanks to the lack of space, it involved lots of zen movements to avoid having some sharp end cut open my bare thighs. It also meant moving lots of furniture yet again so files can be reached, and  I can get in the room etc.

But – yay! Success.