A story for another day

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was just a kid, there was a show on TV called The Waltons - a historical drama set in the American Great Depression - which is a ridiculous term for an era. I mean, what is great about a depression? Aren’t they by their very nature, frickin terrible? (Although it does make sense as to what they might mean by saying they want to make America great again.)

Anyway, The Waltons was incredibly popular, even on the west coast of Scotland - which is not at all like the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia, where The Waltons is set.

And, every week our family would sit down to watch The Waltons navigate their daily family difficulties with wholesome aplomb, ending each episode with words of wisdom and a happy goodnight.

Here in Tweddley Manor, during whatever shitfuckery this era of America is, we too have our own words of wisdom we share as a family to see us through the days.

1. Whoever eats the last chicken tender puts the bag in the trash and not back in the freezer. Laundry lives in the laundry basket before it goes in the machine. There is never an excuse for not flushing the toilet.

2. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional: Nobody gets to journey through life wrapped in cotton wool. Everyone has to deal with difficult things. Cuddles, sympathy, and room to talk are always on tap. But wallowing is not an option. Fall down, feel your feelings, and then get up again. You're loved and you’ve got this.

3. Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one. So, don't feel you have to publicly display yours at all times to all and sundry. Likewise, when someone, uninvited, insists on brandishing their opinion, it's ok to shake your head sympathetically and move on.

That last one has been really useful to help the boys navigate the computer age. They seem to be able to meander through all sorts of apps and bullshittery in the online world with a dismissive ease.

I, sadly, do not have that skill.

Social media can be a brilliant message board when so many people you know and care about live more than an ocean away. There have been times when I'd regularly post photos of the kids growing up, and then daft stuff about the chickens, or living the way we do here in Tweddley Manor. It was fun.

But of late, I’ve been quiet on the socials. I just don't have the stomach for it. Like when you’ve eaten the same meal over and over and you just can't eat it anymore, but it seems like it's the only meal on the menu.

I'm not sure I even understand what you’re meant to be doing on it. It used to be daft wee reflections of what people were up to in their day-to-day lives. Now it demands how we should be living, informs us of the next possible outrage, screams at us about wrongdoing. Fights break out, and people who used to be friends suddenly show themselves to be complete lunatics. It’s unsettling, and I find myself feeling like John Boy Walton waking up on the set of Blade Runner.

Also, I just can't work out what I'm meant to post about: Silly stuff to distract? Infuriating stuff to get a rise. Or the half-hearted humblebrag - that tells everyone how I’m having the bestest time in the world, when the truth is I’m not. Nobody is.

This is a difficult time to live in for anyone with any shred of humanity.

Anyway, as a result of my relative silence, I've been getting messages asking if I’m alright. And I am. The chickens are still chickening. The bees are still buzzing. Arthur is still being the most adorable jerk. I just feel quiet, that's all. I do my weekly Note here, and that's about it.

But even that has been tricky of late. I had a long discussion with Mark this week about how I may have to give it up, because I think I've forgotten how to write. And he, because he's Mark, and has been married to me for 400 years, asked me the question I ask others when they've said the same thing to me, “What is it you feel you should be writing and can't?”

And what tumbled out was a long monologue about everything and nothing. About how there's too much to write about, but all of it feels the same. There's so much to be angry and sad about, yet there's so much of life that is still beautiful. How the world seems to be in a sorry state, packed full of injustice and lies, and yet I must love it very much, because in my heart, all I want is to find some way to fix it.

And so then Mark, because he is Mark, told me to write about that, which is, of course, much much easier said than done.

When I'm working with writers who are in block, I ask them what they need, and they generally reply ‘a killer idea’.

After which I (probably quite infuriatingly) shake my head and say, “Nope. What you need is space in which to plant the idea. Nothing grows unless it has the space to form roots, so you have to give yourself space: Space to not know what to do. Space to recognise how you feel. Space to allow yourself to think. And then the answer will come.”

(Really, it's surprising I don't get punched in the face more often.)

But giving yourself space to be vulnerable is really hard to do - which is I guess why so many people prefer to be outraged. And it's also not particularly convenient, for example, when you send a Note out into the Universe every week.

So the best I can do is be honest.

I am sad, that's all. And I’m sorry for the state of the world right now. And I’m overwhelmed by the sheer volume of poisonous news we’re bombarded with every day. It feels like there’s about fifteen guys running riot on the planet, stirring up what is worst in us, and ripping all that is good to shreds. Meanwhile, the rest of us do our best to tidy up and mend, while the same sociopathic monkeys throw shit again.

Tweddletopian rule number 2: Pain is inevitable, and suffering is optional, but sometimes the only way to relieve the suffering is to admit the feeling of pain. So there you go, this week, I’ve felt pain.

But, please don’t worry about me. The peace you wish for me, wish for yourself. We all need it.

Life is not always all angel wings and rainbow unicorn farts. Sometimes it's tough, and it stinks. But it will get better. Because, well, because frankly it always does.

This may indeed be the worst collection of words I've ever arranged all in one place, and maybe I really have totally forgotten how to write. If so, my apologies.

Nevertheless, the chickens are still chickening and the bees are still buzzing, and the axis of this planet does not change one iota due to the effectiveness of my sentence structure.

If you, like me, feel a bit spent, try and find a little space. Because this story of how the world is running needs a new script. It doesn’t need to be like The Waltons (which frankly seemed far from perfect). It can just run along the theme that, as we’ve all been given the gift of being alive on the same planet at the same time, we’ve agreed to accept that we all belong.

Till next week

xo

PS: Do me a favor and click on the wee heart emoji on this post to like it. It lets my algorithm think its adorable.

P. P. S: If you enjoy talking/listening/stories/ random facts, come and join me and Mr Tweddle at Fish and Bear. This (and every) Wednesday, we will be at MacLeod’s in the Magical No-Kings-dom of Van Nuys.

ALSO - as from Tuesday 16th, we’ll be at Church of The Valley, 6565 Vesper 91411 every Tuesday, so you’ve no excuse :) xo Fishandbear.net

And because I am totally showing off - look, I have a book for sale.

Volume 2 is available now: US, UK, Can, Aus

Audiobook link https://amzn.to/3Dh0MVP

If you do buy a copy, please leave a review on the site as it helps people know that I write in proper sentences… erm sometimes xo

A story for another day - Audio