19 November 2015

ObserVation: A year on..

ooking over my blog stats last week I realised that it has been over a year since I took the plunge and started to comment in blogs and then communicate with bloggers via e-mail. As soon as I let out that I was thinking of trying my hand at blogging some of you encouraged me to do so (you know who I’m talking about). Not only have I got to know some lovely people in the last year but have been allowed to accompany them in a small way on their personal journeys. 

In writing this post I reviewed the last year of blogging and the content of the posts. I am somewhat astonished on what I have ‘aired’ in the last 12 months, with roughly 38.000 words in 25 posts and 16000 views. Not wor(l)d breaking but I wasn’t out to try.

Well, today a year ago I pressed the ‘publish’ button in my blogger area and with a lot of apprehension and mixed feelings I saw my first little ‘Windows:’ post staring back at me from a web link in the Internet. I had taken the plunge and I’m so glad I did. It’s been a lot of fun as well as an emotional educational experience finding out more about myself and aspects of the me I was not fully aware of until I started to put it down in electronic print. 
I’m a nosey person by nature, that’s why I probably ended up in research, and with the blog it has been a sort of coming out to myself, giving me a rough idea of where to put the pin on my situation-map. 

In the future I suspect a certain amount of fine tuning may come about depending on how much I want to delve into ‘me’. On the other hand I’m not sure if I really want to spend that much time turning over stones, but instead just look up and enjoy the landscape as it is and the me in it. Will see where I am then I'll post an update report on this in a year.

Thanks to all those who follow me and the readers who drop in now and then to comment. My posts in future will be, as in the past, a mixed bag of Trans related personal experiences and ‘just me’ stories taken from deep down in the memory box while they are still recallable..

[Ed: Are you finished?]
[Ed: Wow that was really short!
Are you ok?]

Yes, perfectly ok. I thought I would ramble on as I usually do to extreme in the next post. This was just a short personal reflection of the past year.
[Ed: Good! I was getting worried. How about a cuppa?]
Good idea, shall I be mother?
[Ed: ?]
[Ed: Oh you mean pour the tea! yes if you want. Went off on the wrong track there, silly me..]

06 November 2015

Windows: Graveyards IIb

s you may recall from last time in Graveyards IIa, [Ed: read it 1st. if you haven't.] I knew there was an area at the back of the crematory that was booked for new comers. As far as I could see in the dim light I was riding towards it. No matter I knew roughly where I was and ..

 .. the next moment I realised I was going ‘up’, I pondered on this ‘up” a while and came to the conclusion that there shouldn’t be any ‘ups” around here. Just as I had finished processing that bit of information I realised I was now going ‘down’! 
I decided to focus on the ground under me and could just see what looked like grass but up front I saw nothing, just a black void. Interesting I thought, against the faint background glow this void has well defined straight edges .. 
Dam! I realised where I was and what would happen next. 
I tried to swerve away from straight ahead. To abrupt, the bike lost its hold and slid from under me throwing me backwards onto the mound. The only thing going through my mind at that point was what was going through the mind of the deadly nuclear missile launched from Magrathea as it turned into a bowl of petunias due to the Heart of Gold’s Improbability drive .. 
Oh no. Not again’.
I applied the one practical thing I had learnt that morning; I jettisoned the bike by letting go of the handlebars. As the bike slithered on and disappeared into the void, I did my dammedist to lay as flat as possible and clutch at the wet grass under me. The funny thing was although I wasn’t moving that fast I just could not get a hold or dig my heels in. It was like sliding on ice. The next moment I was falling, as I was roughly feet first I braced myself for the landing, hoping not to get tangled up in the bike which was waiting for me. 
After what seemed like ages I made contact surprisingly (#6) with the ground and not the bike. The impact shook me up a bit and out of reflex I let my legs decide to give way and I ended up squatting down in the limited space available. 
I took in the atmosphere: deep, dark and damp. 
I started immediately to grope around for the bike. It was just next to me as if I had parked it there. I used it to help stand up, shaking somewhat as I did so. 
If this was what I thought it was, and if the location, shape, size and negative height to ground level was anything to go by, ‘it’ was what I thought it was. Then this meant I was in deep trouble. 

Although I was at that moment 6 feet under, I had no intention of ending up pushing up daises without having the chance to give up my veto.
I started to slowly panic with the situation I found myself in, but as I stood there to my surprise (#7) I could look out over the top! I noticed the mound I had ridden over and slid down was not covered in grass, but what looked like a green carpet with a grassy like texture. Something typically used at burials to stop mourners sinking into the dirt and afterwards leaving muddy footprints all over the floor at the funeral reception. 
It was no wonder I could not get a hold and dig my heels in – wet plastic! 
As my eyes slowly became accustomed to the new dark shade of gloom, I realised under foot that the bottom of the grave was somewhat uneven and as I could look out, not as deep as it should be. 
There could only be one reason for this - it was unfinished! 
The grave digger had stopped for the night and if I didn’t get out of here under my own steam he would be the first person I would see in the morning! 
He would get a right shock when approaching and hearing from the grave that was probably scheduled to be occupied later that day “Hi! Thanks for dropping by, I seem to be having a problem getting out of here”. 

[Ed: you could add “I want a second opinion"!]
Ok, maybe I was able to look over the top, but in my condition and from where I stood, I was not going to scramble out that lightly. I could just about with outstretched arms, take hold of the green carpet that ended on the edge of the grave. It seemed like it would hold me, but I had no possible leverage therefore no chance. 
I needed to get up higher. I sat on the bike’s crossbar and pondered a while in the dark. 

Have you ever come across or experienced the following situation ... 

[Ed: off again!]
... I need time to panic and ponder.

You are looking all over the place for your reading glasses (or equivalent) and they are all the time perched up on your forehead? I have another variation.
I was standing by the car and started to look for the key. I checked all the pockets on my left and then the pockets on the right also back pockets etc. No luck, I started again on the left when I noticed I was just about to transfer the car key from my left hand to the right so as to have the left free to search. I must have been doing this the whole time!

I paniked and pondered on. 

Well I finally woke up to the fact that I was sitting on the possible solution to my predicament. I didn’t have much choice and it could work. 
I changed positions with the bike by scrambling over it, propped it up against the side of the grave and stood on the pedal to see if the bike would sink or not with my full weight. Luckily it held. I then grabbed the end of the green carpet with both hands and kicked about wildly until I had climbed/pulled myself up and had one foot then the other on the crossbar of the bike.
I was now almost at waist level to the ground. I paused, steadied myself and waited until I got my breath back. I wasn’t sure if I could again take another uncontrolled fall, so I planned the next move slowly and carefully. 
What I could see was that the green carpet was covering the complete mound of dirt extracted from the grave. I assumed that it was there to stop the earth being washed away by the heavy rain over the day. As it had held while struggling up onto the bike's crossbar, there was a good chance that it would give enough resistance to allow me to put myself completely out without it budging.
I started to roll up the end of the carpet so I could have a better hold and leverage when trying to pull myself up and out. 

I went for it. I tugged and started kicking and wriggling like mad realising I only had one chance, as I probably would not have enough energy to keep at it all night. With this thought I spurred myself on. As I was franticly thrashing about like a fish out of water I realised I was lying flat on the ground not half in and out of the grave as before. 

I stopped moving and just lay there panting and waiting to see if I would slide back into the void or not. I realised I was still tightly holding on for dear life to the carpet. I slowly manoeuvred myself towards the end of the grave, having at lease one handhold on the carpet at all times. I finally was able to get up - a little unsteady - but I was standing at last. 
I moved away from the grave and at a safe distance breathed a sigh of relief. I checked for abrasions, cuts and torn clothes. That I was totally covered in dirt head to toe and soggy to boot didn’t really bother me, it was just an additional layer of dirt from the incident that morning. 
I was so glad I was out of that hole. But my gladness was short lived. I was out of the void, but me bike was still waiting to be rescued. 
Now how the h*** was I going to get it out! 
I had no intention of hanging over the edge and trying to put it out. 
With my luck I would probably slip in this time headfirst. 
No way!
I had no idea what to do … 
This was getting silly; the whole day was a chain of sillynesses and it wasn’t over yet. I looked around as much as the gloom allowed. 
There was nothing, no grave digging tools, nothing. 

[Ed: must have been somewhere ..]


If the gravedigger could get in and out of the grave, then so could I. I just hoped the ladder or whatever he used was not locked up. As me bike wasn’t going anywhere for the moment, I wondered off in what I hoped was the right direction towards the caretaker’s tool shed. On my way I kept looking back to see where I was coming from and forward making sure I didn’t fall into any other unsecured dugged holes. 
Eventually the shed loomed up before me. At least I knew where I was at last. I contemplated about walking home (only 5 minutes away) and if necessary, coming back with my own ladder in case I couldn’t find one here. 
I thought better of it, the last thing I wanted was a nosy neighbour asking me in the morning “and what where you doing out late last night with a ladder over your shoulder?” With my luck over the following months there would be a knock at the door concerning inquires to my whereabouts every time there was a burglary in the area. 
No thank you. 
I could go home and come back in the morning to claim back me bike. No, not a good idea. Even if I got there early before ‘opening time’ there was a possibility I would still be detected and then I would have to answer awkward questions and possible consequences to boot. 
No, I needed to do what I could now to get away from here and forget it all. I circled the shed and there at the back was a ladder hanging on the wall. Before letting out my second sigh of relief that night I checked if it was chained to the wall or not (you never know). Luck was with me, it wasn’t. Next I still had to see if it could be removed, no problem it was of lightweight aluminium. 
I then, for the first time in what seemed like half the night, allowed myself to smile with relief, then as my stress factor when down, a little chuckle which turned into a bout of heavy coughing. 

[Ed: loud enough to wake the dead?]

No, I was as silent as the grave. It was a dry cough. 

[Ed: hey that was also good!]

I wasn’t finish by a long chalk but I saw a good chance that me and me bike would be heading home together. With the ladder under my arm I moved as fast as I could back to the grave. On arrival I was glad to see that there had been no grave bike robbers at work.
I lowered the ladder into the grave. Checked for stability and slowly went down just enough to grab the handlebars and start up again pulling for what it was worth. I had no intention of going down any further than necessary. With a finial effort I heaved the bike up onto the ground and then dedicated both hands to slowly climb up the last two steps to join it. 
As the exit was next to the shed, I placed the ladder on the bike and back we went. I hanged the ladder on the wall and headed at last for home. 

For some reason I slept very late. 

For the next few days I took the long route to work. Of course I was curious how the area looked in daylight in comparision to my night impression. But I was a little wary. I didn’t want to meet anyone with a fable for forensic that could put 2 & 2 together and make a connection between me, my bike and the marks at the scene of the crime. 
Sometime later I did search for the grave. It was by this time occupied. I stopped and recalled the day with my ‘series of unfortunate events’. 

And as I looked down a thought came to mind..

‘Rest in peace, and by the way I’m not totally in the dark about how it looks like down there from your present point of view'.