Monday, 23 December 2013

Who Loves Ya Baby

     Nearly the end of another year and I was feeling a 'mite' bit sorry for myself. It was all to do with 'self worth'. I got to thinking, 'What am I worth' and 'What use am I.' Its all to do with getting old I reckon; retired, no job, obviously and thereby producing nothing. Hobbling about on sticks, a burden on state and family; good for nothing, ready for the knackers yard. The feeling of being past one's sell by date lasted for ages; well, an hour  at least. So I opened a bottle of beer and I pondered; and I pondered; and I pondered.
    Now someone, somewhere had brewed the beer to put in that bottle. Probably a little chap in a big brewery. Without people like me, the little chap wouldn't have a job, would he! Neither would the man growing the hops, and the wheat to make the beer; or making the bottle, not including the top. Or for that matter  the man delivering the bottles to the supermarket via the lorry made on the conveyer belt in the factory, filled with diesel made by another little chap and his workmates at the oil refinery. To be placed on the shelves by young men and served at the tills by young and some not so young women.  I am beginning to realise that, unemployed and infirm I may be, but my responsibilities to others are enormous. Without me and people like me the brewery would go out of business. The farmer, the oil refinery and the supermarket workers all need me I reckon; quite a thought. So I opened another bottle of beer.
    It is my duty, I have decided, in these austere times to provide employment for others.  The hospital I have visited so frequently in the past year. The doctors and the dentists, the district nurses, the makers of the pills I consume in large quantities, where would you all be without me! 
    I bought a new car this year. How many workers has this purchase made happy; including our friends from across the sea. For I bought a Seat, made in Spain, courtesy of Germany's Volkwagen. And a television made in Japan, plus cooking aides for my wife, courtesy of China. My bank balance is much depleted, of concern to both myself and the bank clerks who manage my finances. But my awareness that my existence has some value lifted my spirits. So I opened another bottle of beer!
    My musings took place whilst I sat in front of my wood burner, lovingly lit by my doting wife Paulette. The cat contentedly snoozed on my lap. (Yes, she or he is still here!) Grand daughter number  two (Angelina, aged twelve, coming on fifteen) fleetingly called to see if we'd a spare toilet roll. (A not infrequent occurrence. I wonder if there's something 'doing the rounds!) I enquire concerning Tommy aged nine, (number three) and Ted (number four, aged four). Evidently they are at home, happily 'computer gaming'. Normal for year 2013, but what would they have been doing in 1946 when I was seven years old, I wonder. Mother (Alison) is evidently also 'computing', searching for bargains on the internet while dad (Simon) lovingly checks his collection of guitars. (Simon is a more than merely competent musician, albeit a player of very noisy rock music.) The family completed by Willow, a Cockerpoo. (A mixture of King Charles Spaniel and Poodle, fashionable if mystifying.)      , 
    On Tuesday Paulette and I travel to St Annes to spend Christmas with daughter Sarah, husband Jeff and grand daughter (number one) Helena, aged fifteen. Quite an artistic family, plus Ramsie, perhaps the most amazing English Bull Terrier, certainly in this part of Lancashire. Ramsie is renowned, unfortunately, for his obsessional behaviour, he swallows, given the opportunity, any unguarded object he finds. The range is enormous and has included his bed, phone chargers, socks, in fact anything that stops moving; a very expensive collection to retrieve!
    I opened another bottle, and through by now an alcoholic haze I perceived a truth that I had not seen before in my searching. My 'worth', my real 'worth' was before my eyes, and I couldn't see it. My 'worth' lay in the love I have for my family and my friends; and they for me. For little else matters. To love and be loved, whatever one's age is worth more than any material consideration. Ah, happy days. Then, and I'm not sure why, I fell asleep!

Happy Christmas to all who have visited my blog. I hope you get all you wish for. Peace and best wishes to you all.

Ken
  


      







10 comments:

cogidubnus said...

Hi Ken

As one old fart to another...just keep opening those bottles mate...between you, I, and one or two others of my acquaintance, we're keeping a whole generation in meaningful employment!

All the best

Dave

Valerie said...

I'm glad you pondered, Ken, since there was so much to ponder on. And now that you have appreciated your worth, make sure you have a Happy Christmas.

the fly in the web said...

Enjoy your Christmas...and keep that beer coming....

CWMartin said...

And to you, sir. Some very good thoughts there. Sometimes being existential can suck.

Keith Smith said...

Well, I felt like you Ken, worried that I wasn't contributing to society and feeling guilty as hell. I thought "What can I do?" So I went to M&S and bought some new shoes, you know the type with Velcro fasteners, cos I can't get to my feet to tie laces any more.

At least now I feel better having saved some poor cobbler from finishing up in the workhouse! (In Poland?)

Keith Smith said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Melinda said...

Not to mention the pleasure your writings provide a reader across the pond. I delight in your musings and look forward to each and every post, Ken. Merry Christmas! (I love ya baby!)

Harlow said...

I agree with Melinda. You are a writer of book and blog and have a large following. The value of this is far greater than what little you may get paid for it. Many thanks and Merry Christmas.

Eddie Bluelights said...

Belated Christmas Greetings, Ken . . . . . and a very Happy New Year to you. Hope 2014 is a lot kinder.

Far Side of Fifty said...

Happy New Year! I am so glad you got that all worked out...good thing you were thirsty:)