There’s something relaxing, bordering on the therapeutic, watching a soufflé rise: whether it’s smug satisfaction at having made it; anticipation as to how scrummy it’ll taste; maybe respect for the science behind the phenomenon; or just childish wonderment at the tantalising transformation from slop huddled in a dish to the master of all that it surveys.
It’s also relaxing and therapeutic, rather than vain, to pamper yourself just a little bit. My favourite is a pedicure. It can’t be vain because, at this time of year, the only things that see my feet are the insides of my socks. Nevertheless, once I’ve soaked and scrubbed, snipped and filed, shaped and buffed, massaged and painted, I feel like I’m walking on air and ready to take on the world.
I think I’ve blogged before that waving the mental-health flag only works if others take notice. What also works quite well is stepping up when others wave the flag. Yesterday I got an email from a chap that said very simply, “Free for a chat?” We get on ok, meet non-socially every now and then, email regularly about planning issues, but telephoning each other is not our thing. However, today he wanted to chat. So we did. I soon noticed that this usually calm, stoic guy was angry, irritated, fed up and sad. We chatted for quite a while and in the end he sounded a tad better. I convinced myself I’d helped in some small way, which for me was nice, in a selfish kind of way but feeling nice is feeling nice. And we all need that from time to time.
Then yesterday evening (you wait for ages for a red flag then two come along on the same day) we went to friends’ for wine, supper, and more wine. I can’t remember how we got onto the topic but I ended up saying something like the pill shouldn’t be available on the NHS for free, if you don’t want to get pregnant then don’t have sex. I was in a minority of one. Can’t see why – if the NHS didn’t fund contraception, they’d have more money available for cancer treatments. Ka-ching!
Then we tackled HRT. Not only do I not agree with it being available for free on the NHS, I don’t think it should be available full stop because the menopause is, well, it’s a natural part of growing old like wrinkles, afternoon naps and intolerance to the youth of the day. And I said so. As is my want. The counter-argument, proffered not unaggressively, was that a broken arm was a natural consequence of a fall so would I object to the NHS paying for it to be repaired? Yer know, some arguments are just so stupid I can’t be arsed, so I just withered him with one of my Paddington Bear Hard Stares. However, our hostess said that she was going to get HRT because she’d had enough.
The conversation moved on to another topic that elicited another Hard Stare from me – can’t remember the topic or the argument, the latter being that puerile.
Next morning once I’d woken up and sobered up (in that order), I texted our hostess to thank her for a lovely supper including a stonking risotto (I do hope I typed stonking, not stinking), and added that I was sorry she felt the need for HRT and did she want a girly drink some time? She texted me back that she was always up for a girly drink, HRT or no HRT, which made me think that she felt better for someone just offering.
I know that, because I’ve got the T-Shirt.
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