My recent behaviour, borne from the strains of being a carer to a dementia patient, has degenerated to such an extent I can only describe my current demeanour to be that of a functioning Tourettes sufferer.
The level of my cursing in prevailing times, particularly when pacing chez Strachan like a caged lion, is completely unacceptable. This inappropriate language delivered with such vitriol and anger that my stock amongst the East Ardsley neighbourhood where I reside must lay as low in value as a Northern Rock share price during 2008’s subprime loan crisis.
God only knows what those residing close by must think on these daily tirades. Invectives manifesting from existing in a current zeitgeist where my life’s been put on hold. Exacerbated by mourning the loss of someone who, although still alive, exists as a mere shell of the funny, bright individual who bore me nearly six decades ago.
If any of those neighbours are reading this prose, I’d like to apologise to you unconditionally for having to endure my vocal admonishments when frustration at my lot overtakes me…… They’re only cries for help, but doesn’t detract from the fact my behaviour is utterly unacceptable. This inability to counter conduct I know to be fundamentally wrong adding further strain to my already troubled mind.
Well-meaning friends with whom I confide my prevailing demeanour shortcomings worriedly advise (without exception) I engage expert help to counter this angst….. As I say, all delivered with my best interests at heart, but in reality the professional guidance they rightly suggest GJ Strachan seeks isn’t (or it doesn’t seem to be) that easily accessible.
Unfortunately, not all advice has been of that quality. One equally well-meaning but more idiosyncratic acquaintance suggested I could possibly adopt an approach where I curse in German instead of English during my tirades. Consequently, masking from my long-suffering neighbours the actual contents of my cantankerous outbursts; in particular any diatribes aimed at my mother.
However, I suspect it’s the raising of the voice as much as the words I utter which’ll be currently irking the local populace. After all, if I rant “Um der Scheiße willen!” as opposed to its English equivalent “For f***s sake!” I’d suspect the loud volume of the cry would still give the game away that I was a bad tempted so and so……. Anyhow, regardless of the volume, Herr and Frau Muller at number 126 would surely soon cotton onto my ruse.
Incidentally, Herr and Frau Muller are fictional names which’ve been added to augment levity and improve how the narrative flowed at that juncture……. Not to mention, I don’t believe there’s as many as 126 houses in this street, anyway.
If it turns out there are at least 126 houses in this residential avenue, I’d like to point out to occupier(s) of 126 (who’re unlikely to be German) I’m not making inferences you’re Nazi sympathisers from the naming convention utilised.
I guess, with my fictional writers head on, if I was going to infer you bore such ideological leanings I’d have gone with the names Herr and Frau Goebbels, or the Himmlers, at number 126…… Actually, there might be a screenplay buried somewhere within that title…. I’ll keep that in my back pocket for a rainy day.
Anyhow, I digress….. When I fed these flaws to the fella who’d suggested raising my current domestic displeasure in German they, with good intention, adapted the plan. Suggesting, as I’ve no Russian neighbours, yours truly utilises that nations curse words instead of English briskness……. Advice leading to my exasperated response of “ради хрена!”
Coincidentally, as I write a package of various booklets/leaflets with guidance on caring for a person with dementia has just been delivered. Documents which, from my initial scan of the text, provide some useful tips for living well after a diagnosis with the disease.
It won’t surprise you to learn there’s no advocation of ‘If living with dementia all becomes too much, great catharsis can be imparted from cursing in Russian!’