Whatever Happened to Pat Stapleton? or 'We Do Not Know Each Other Yet'

"We do not know each other yet for we have not dared to be silent together.".  I wrote that quote down when I was a teenager and still have it but I cannot find its source.  I wonder if I made it up.

How often do you wonder what has happened to someone from your past?  I suppose for me the answer is ‘Not very often.’.

I would, however, dearly love to know what happened to Dorothy Speakman for whom I held a constant and faithful candle from the age of about 6 until 11 or 12.  Our constant companionship ended when our ways parted as we left prep school for our respective Grammar Schools and soon after her parents died and she was whisked off to Canada to live with her (much) older married sister.  It was Dorothy who, with one casual sentence, stopped me biting my nails at the age of 11.

The relationship between Pat Stapleton and I was a completely different one.  I had reached the ripe old age of 16 when we first met and 21 when we went out together.  Pat was one of the most fun-loving , caring, kindest, wonderful people I ever met.  She was also the youngest Ward Sister appointed at the time in the Hospital in which I was born and, for a while, worked. 

So why am I thinking of her now and why am I telling you?

Why Pat?  The answer is that Pat was the first girl I knew with whom I could be completely comfortable.  We were driving back to Liverpool from a short stay in the Lake District when I first realised how well we knew each other:  it was when we had travelled in perfect peace and contentment for many miles without a word passing between us.

Why now?  When I was asked recently if I was happy living alone I re-affirmed my happiness with the situation.  I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t live with anyone and I am even more certain that no one could live with me.  However I would hate to be alone.  And I’m not.  But as Friend Who Knows Too Much put it recently ‘you know lots of people to talk to but you have no one special person with whom to be silent.’  And I suppose that’s true.  It’s not that I don’t have friends with whom companionable silence feels natural but there’s a subtle difference.

Why am I telling you all this?  I’m really not sure that that I know.  How silly is that?

Thankful Thursday

In an hour or so this evening a friend of many years and his dog Molly will be arriving.  They are crossing The Minch in brilliant sunshine and a force 6 wind from the NNE making the ambient temperature of 10℃ feel like freezing point.  Tonight the clear skies will mean that the sky is light all night as the sun just dips below the horizon giving way to a twilight of about four or five hours.  If it was just a bit warmer this would be paradise but, playing the Glad Game, if it were warm and windless this evening the dreaded Scottish Midge would be having a field day.

I had the cardiac clinic at 0840 this morning - the equivalent of the cardiac MoT or WoF or Safety Inspection or whatever the equivalent is for the car in your country.   My 120/74 BP reading wasn't   too bad for an oldie and I am now certified alive and officially fit and well for another 12 months.

That stood me in good stead for this afternoon when I spent 4 hours trying to sort a friend's broadband connection.  BT eventually agreed with my assessment that it was their line which was causing the problem.  I kept my cool for the whole of the several hours of conversations with someone in India.  I was quite pleased with myself.

So today I am thankful for the the fact that I'm in such a good mood as I set off to meet the ferry.

Dead Ernest

Any book that starts off with the words “No one had expected Ernest to die, least of all Ernest.” has to be delved into further. Which is exactly what I did. In fact I started it on my journey back to Scotland from New Zealand. Unfortunately I didn’t manage it in one go and the second tranche had to wait until I’d been home for a few weeks.

I thought that Dead Ernest was a curious book. It’s a combination of a good story and a rather disturbing look at a number of particular aspects of life and of personalities and people’s ways of dealing with life. At times I felt distinctly uneasy, at times annoyed, at times hopeful for the characters and then despairing.  In other words it caused, in me, a large range of emotions.

Although I have never had any experience of one of the principal themes running through the book I found it utterly believable and I have probably increased my knowledge and understanding of what people experience and how they deal or cope with such experiences. 

Other parts of it hit home with a very uncomfortable reminder of my some of my own experiences and weaknesses.

For a rather more full and enlightening review I suggest reading Librarian's post here.

I agree with Librarian that this is a book well worth reading.  It would be interesting to know what others think about it too. 

There are quite a few quotable quotes but two which I thought many people I know could identify with were: 

“No, thought Andrew. We are beyond arguing. We neither of us care enough any more to argue.”

 “After Ophelia had driven off, Andrew considered the strange, elusive emotion we call happiness. It can arrive out of the blue and unaccompanied by reason or rationality, entirely regardless of the price it may exact or the problems which may accompany it. Happiness such as he felt today was beyond any sort of examination or explanation.” 

Dead Ernest by Frances Garrood (whose witty, readable and entertaining blog is pithily entitled Frances Garrood) is available from bookstores and  Amazon as a paperback or for the Kindle.

Unlike Scriptor Senex

Scriptor's last post quoted Captain Oates who, on the ill-fated Scott expedition to the Antarctic was dying and walked out of the tent with the words "I'm just going outside and may be some time."  His body has never been found.  I am very pleased to add that SS/CJ said that he had every intention of returning to Blogland.

I, on the other hand, last posted the day after CJ's post and have since been away from Blogland as well.

CJ and I are, however, different in that I really had no intention of walking out of the metaphorical tent and being absent.  The truth is that I've been so busy on the mainland visiting and dealing with the real word on Lewis since I returned.  Tomorrow my next visitors arrive too.

So I'm not neglecting my friends in Blogland and I am very grateful for all the emails and comments wondering if all is well.  It is and I hope to be absent less from now on.  I hope........