Oblivious to whats important.

As I settle into bed without a cheery "goodnight" ringing in my ears, or the sound of snoring as I make a customary trip to the toilet, peace has once more descended on the house. The piles of discarded clothing, which in a panic got thrown out of the suitcase when 'over-weight' was calculated in dollars of potential surcharge. Clothing I might add I will have to send on later. The question, "does this fit you" soon revealed a gulf in taste and "no thanks I don't think I will wear it" only goes to show how conservative, 75 years of living can bring to a person.

From a monastic existence I had been blasted into a roller coaster, subsumed in a friendly, enthusiastic, dynamic which covered, eating, shopping and eating, in that order.

My dietary regime was torn apart. I was sadistically chewing dead animals (at least I was one removed from chewing live ones) and my karma would inevitably bring me back as one of these defenceless warm blooded creatures to endure, what I was so cavalier about, the killing machine which supports our sightless pursuit of satisfaction.

Going shopping drew me into corners of the shop I had never visited. Packets of things the names I couldn't even pronounce. Ingredients which held no appeal but which, I was assured, would be good for me. 

All this trauma and good intention is now sadly gone and I'm contemplating a bacon butty but in the full knowledge that each meal will have to be accompanied by a big swig of Gaviscon. 

The impetus another person brings shakes you out of your lethargy and is good for you but the internal turmoil of playing second fiddle, handing over the car keys and visiting places one would never have thought to visit, is at an end.  I sit once more in my "ivory tower" the door locked and bolted, invaders repulsed, master of all I survey but  like the King with no clothes, oblivious to what's actually important.