The A - D of Planning

 A is for A Team - Hannibal Smith loved it when a plan came together.

B is for Baldrick, with the aid of Black Adder he hatched many a cunning plan.

Plan C – was the name of a cat in the Australian soap opera Sons and Daughters.

 

Like Hannibal I love a good plan that runs to clockwork, unfortunately successful plans are a scarce commodity in the modern age.

I used to be good at making plans, or at least I believed I was, I derived pure joy from putting my schemes into practice, a few even worked out to some degree! Maybe it was all just day dreaming but it was so much fun.

After Andrew died a friend suggested I abandon my meticulous ideas of what the future would look like and go with the flow instead.

It didn’t come naturally but after many years of dented expectations it became easier to let go.

After having cancer, I threw everything in the air. Brexit, Covid and everything that has followed since has blown away any hope I had of having the life I once wished for.

Welcome to the world of no plans.

It’s quite frankly depressing, I need something to look forward to and even the tentative schemes are held so lightly now, I almost plan for them to come crashing down. I give a hollow laugh “I told you so!”

November wobbles have arrived too early this year, the news for the future is bleak, no one has a plan anymore.

It feels as if we are going “through a rice pudding in a mini-sub”, one of Andrew’s expressions that seems rather apt just now, especially as I hate rice pudding, the milky smell of it, the lumpy texture -yuk!

But I don’t want to leave my thoughts here, I need a way out, to find some hope to keep me going through what will inevitably be a long, cold winter.

I’ve planted tulips and onions this week, is that enough to hope for? Can I hold on ‘til Spring?

For more immediate sparkle Strictly is on TV tonight. Perhaps I need to get swept up in a Strictly daydream, the one where I am a “celebrity” and get asked to appear.

Not really a plan but a great distraction, which reminds me I started writing this poem the other day, scuttles over to Facebook to find it for you....

Perhaps plan D should be DANCE? 

Just forget the news, the dashed dreams, all the worries and cares, instead move my feet, shake my hips, wriggle into that comfortable spot in the sofa and watch the magic happen!

 

 

            My hair and make-up completed,

       I open the dressing room door,

       Here is my partner, so handsome!

       We’re ready to take to the floor.

 

       My Argentine Tango would dazzle,

       My waltz would be sure to delight,

       My Charleston would be cheeky,

       My foxtrot the best of the night.

 

       I'd throw myself in at the deep end.

       Be a generous, friendly celeb.

       But my fame is only imagined

       So, I'll just have to watch it instead!