The new man

Judging by the email response to my last entry nobody wants me to be a man – not even occasionally. More is the pity.

I’d love to swap gender with a man of my choice, just briefly.

I dare say most men wouldn’t wish to participate in these frolics; whilst I have a long list indeed.

It also proves that God, for all the intricacies of his creation, has no sense of fun.

On which point: One of the most annoying things about writing is that I distract myself so badly that I often forget what I meant to say in the first place. It would never happen to a man – they focus, stick to the subject, cut the crap and all that.

Here is me, all at sea, trying to find one those markers bobbing about in the water. But then I am short sighted.

U

I wish I were a man – occasionally

I have wished for many things in my life – most of which were granted.

However there is one thing I envy a man – calm.

Many a bubbling volcano underneath the male surface, I am sure, but a man’s calmness so attractive – yet, I fear, for me, woman, the holy grail never to be found. Possibly one of the reasons I was so very happy when I found out I was carrying a boy rather than a girl.

Needless to say that both my sisters have no time for me on this one: Petra has 4 boys, baby number five finally turning into a girl; my youngest sister being the mother of three boys and one girl – she also is a school teacher; how she copes with other peoples’ children from dawn till dusk is anyone’s guess – and I am patient myself when it comes to the young and the old. It’s only the in between those two age groups who have the capacity to wear me down.

So there I was in my garden, just now, hanging up some washing, as only the poor self employed stroke freelancers can do at nine in the morning, when I noticed bindweed – and there is plenty. Bindweed, as the name implies, is considered a weed. In fact it’s a killer since it strangles all other plants whilst weaving its way around them. However, when bindweed goes into bloom it is gorgeous. White, majestic.

Conundrum, isn’t it?

U