My thinking has gone haywire again.
It has a proper name and is actually being recognised as a condition...brain fog. When you can't get your thoughts in order and your concentration is shot...
The more obvious causes are strong tranquillisers and equally strong drink...one would hope not taken together 'cos then you'd be out cold and not thinking about anything at all...
But apart from those two, wheat is thought to be another cause of brain fog, as is dairy...and soya. And if I cut out dairy how will I ever manage not eating butter...cheese is fine 'cos there is goat and sheep cheese...loathe soya so that wouldn't matter either...and it isn't difficult to find breads now which are wheat free. But we tried spelt bread and thought it awful sort of cloggy...needed loads of butter on that to make palatable.
It drives me to despair when I begin something and then stand and look at it and wonder whatever the next step is...this afternoon I began making some fabric 'baskets' to hold reels of cotton and such like for when my shed is done...I've made them before...I know how to go about it...but I ended up wandering about round the garden in a heavy drizzle because I just couldn't get myself started...didn't know what to do first.
If all I have to do is give up eating bread and spreading lashings of butter over everything in sight I might risk trying it...but I've to try to put on five pounds in weight before Thursday...lost another five pounds you see and have an appointment with the physio and she said I was too thin before I lost this last lot. So I'll wait until after Thursday...just to be on the safe side.
Now I'm wondering whether I could roast new potatoes or not...Himself has decided he doesn't like the old potatoes so we've been eating so-called new potatoes which have probably been stored in a warehouse somewhere under a constant chemical spray...they are quite boring and don't taste of anything much. I threw the deep fat fryer out...it was pretty disgusting and it's actually easier to buy a new one than attempt to clean the grease off it...par-boiled tatties, deep fried, taste and look much like roasties.
Just fancied roasties for supper you see...there is still some logic to my thinking...not a lot though.
A few proper cousins have popped up in the family tree...at least, they were Mothers cousins, but that makes them a darn sight closer than some of those I unearth...and one came from County Mayo...the next county to us. I think I'll download Google Earth and see if I can find her homeplace. Her sister was a nun in Australia...expect someone had to be.
I can't claim credit for finding them though...it was Des again.
It's the seriously crunchy bits I like...on roast potatoes. If they've gone all sort of soggy then I don't want to know. We went to supper with a friend of mine who took up with a very strange man...very odd he is actually. And she'd cooked goat...tough as old shoe leather according to Himself, who left all of his...and put the potatoes in with the meat so they were a bit sort of grey and insipid and had rock hard centres with a sort of mushy outside...they were living in a lorry at the time and her bloke had a fine collection of wacky baccy plants on the part where there used to be the parcel shelf...
He's so odd that we don't see each other now...some friendships aren't strong enough to cope with the partners as well.
It might have something to do with me telling her she was feckin daft to live with a man who was always stoned and treated her like shite...
There is a blackbird singing his heart out in the garden...love these quiet evenings when the back door stands open and all we hear are the birds...