Depression, hard times and The Hussey

13 September 2012

Running a bit late today.  We have spent the morning watching telly programmes we recorded over the last couple of nights.  From Tuesday night Trouble on the Estate painted a pretty damming view on the residents of the majority of them.  It's a 'no hope' estate in my thinking.  Of course all cities and towns have them; here in Dorktown it's Camp Hill and Hill Top and parts of Caldwell.  In Coventry the main problem area is Bell Green.  Local councils throw money at them which really doesn't meet the problem, let alone sort it out. 

I started a new book late last night, Perfect People by Peter James.  It's the story of a couple who lose their only son at the age of 4 to a genetic illness.  They raise a lot of money and pin their hopes on a doctor who specialises in genetics to remove the gene from them so no more of their children will get the illness.  But then the questions start as to what other traits would like for their child.  At that point I started to ask my own questions regarding my brother Dave and me.

You see, I get depressed, some time very depressed.  Never enough to consider self harming (I'm a wuzz and can't stand pain ;-))) ), but enough to make very lethargic at times.  I have always tried to keep myself fairly active.  Not a sports fan as I've said before so I've not been physically active apart from at work, but I have tried to keep my mind active and try to learn as much as I can.  Consequently I am fairly aware of what is going on around me pretty much all the time.  I hear or see something and can think it through for a good way into the future.  Dave never could.

Dave was even less physically active than I was.  He did very little reading.  His main was of The Sun and Daily Mirror and the People and News of the World on Sunday.  One of his work mates said he had read an enjoying The Da Vinci Code.  Dave bought it and read it - over a 10 month period!  I once loaned him Dickens Hard Times.  That took him a year to read; his opinion on it was that it was a 'non-book'.  I loved it and could understand what it was about, Dave didn't and couldn't.  But all of this meant that Dave was less concerned about what was going on around him.  All he was interested in was Cliff Richards latest record and where Coventry City was in the league.  But even that didn't make him depressed.  As far as I know, Dave was never depressed at time. 

That book Perfect People claims that depression is a genetic condition and that it's possible to breed it out of people.  I'm not so sure.  After all, Dave and me had the same parents and the same up-bringing.  If depression is genetic, why didn't we both have it?  Whatever, I shall continue to read the book!

Now that is a surprise!  Dorktown's own super star hussy, George Eliot has fans in Japan would you believe?  No?  Well I didn't either.  I fall asleep trying to read it; so image trying to translate into Japanese!  Oh my giddy arm-'ole!  What a nightmare thought that is!  But I suppose someone has done it because a group of people from Nagasaki visited the town recently to see the place where The Hussy was born and lived during her early years.  At least the town might gain from the visit when they get home and say how much they liked it.  Maybe we might get even more visitors here.

So for today's photo it has to be ... 

The Hussy herself.

And for a for a funny I offer ...

In the dead of summer a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake. A hot, dry fly who said to no one in particular, "Gosh . if I go down three inches, I will feel the mist from the water and I will be refreshed."
There was a fish in the water thinking, "Gosh ... if that fly goes down three inches I can eat him."
There was a bear on the shore thinking, "Gosh ... if that fly goes down three inches . that fish will jump for the fly ...and I will eat him."
It also happened that a hunter was farther up the bank of the lake preparing to eat a cheese sandwich. "Gosh," he thought, "if that fly goes down three inches... and that fish leaps for it... that bear will expose himself and grab for the fish. I'll shoot the bear and then have a proper trophy."
You probably think this is enough activity for one bank of a lake, but...I can tell you there was more...
A wee mouse by the hunter's foot was thinking, "Gosh... if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly.... and that bear grabs for that fish .the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and drop his cheese sandwich."
A cat lurking in the bushes took in this scene and thought, as was fashionable to do on the banks of this particular lake around lunch time," Gosh... if that fly goes down three inches... and that fish jumps for that fly... and that bear grabs for that fish.... and that hunter shoots that bear... and that mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich...then I can have mouse for lunch."
The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads down for the cooling mist of the water... The fish swallows the fly... The bear grabs the fish... The hunter shoots the bear.... The mouse grabs the cheese sandwich... The cat jumps for the mouse... The mouse ducks... The cat falls into the water and drowns.
The moral of the story is: Whenever a fly goes down three inches, some pussy is probably in danger.