A Day Without a Motif

It is often the case that a day can be said to have a motif, something distinctive, or a recurring element, but today has not been one of those days. I arrived at work under a blue sky and drove home in quickly descending darkness and rain, dazzled by oncoming headlights and the bright reflections off the surface of the road.

Whilst on a driving theme, it is pertinent to note my youngest daughter’s success in passing her driving test first time. I took five attempts – passing on the final one, thankfully, although I was tempted to take another one to get in the half-dozen. And why was this? I think the simplest answer is that I couldn’t drive.

At work my thoughts turned to the prospect of retirement. Images of applying WD40 (other lubrucants are available) to my Zimmer frame (probably other walking frames are available), digging out a suitable cardigan, de-coking my pipe, and listening to the Stereophonics – oh, sorry, I meant listening to the stereophonic James Last Orchestra on vinyl.

This evening I subjected myself to the weekly ritualistic humiliation of trying to do martial arts. People do not appreciate the challenges faced by those who are partially dyspraxic with poor proprioception. In karate classes at university I invariably ended up facing in the wrong direction. Maybe there is a motif here for my life as a whole – I was there, but facing the wrong way.


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