We are told to Count our Blessings. This is all very well, and a noble injunction, but sometimes it's not so easy. It's one thing rationalizing: "Well, as long as you've got your health, you're laughing," only still to feel unfulfilled, or frustrated, or jealous, or whatever.
It's only when shit happens, and you come out the other end with a sigh of relief, that the dictum becomes easier to appreciate. Shit that ended up flushed and wiped for me in the recent past: having a recurrent slipped disk that was "there for life" according to the doc, but which seems to have gone AWOL for longer than a term in Guantanamo; my little lad having to be operated on, but then it turned out fine; losing my jacket and hence my wallet (that I've had since age 17) on a drunken night out, containing my bank cards, driving licence, ID and myriad other cards, only to be called by the cop shop in the early hours to say it had been handed in (minus the cash, but what the hell...).
Of course, it would be nice to win the lottery but, after all, as long as you've got your health...
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4 commentaires:
Eeee, it all works out for t'best in t'end, 'appen ... (You can't beat a little Lancastrian wisdom at times like these, I find!)
I went to the foot of our stairs to see what all the fuss was about. Absolutely nothing to report.
Lancastrian wisdom from someone who's legged it to Scotland?
Shouldn't it be some worthy saying about not counting your haggis until they've hatched, or summat?
You will have to learn more of the lingo.
Look, you can take the girl out of Lancashire, but ...!
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