Dear Avid fans.
I have done it again it seems.
This time however, I have a good excuse for the long periods between posts.
Since my brain Haemorrhage, I have discovered that I am not quite all present and correct.
Things have become apparent over time, and I now realise that I will never return to the person I once was.
My memory has suffered a bit of a bashing and does not appear to be improving. I have considerable trouble even with the simple tings in life at times and logic is at best, intermittent. Consequently frustration is always near the surface and I find myself withdrawing from social life, instead, choosing to avoid people with the exception of a few close friends and my ever loving wife Karen.
Bugger. I have in the thirty or so minutes since logging on and typing the above text, completely forgotten what I was planning to say here.
A perfect example of my scrambled head.
Anyway, I shall continue to ramble on now that I have got this far.
I also had a heart attack since suffering my brain fart. and although I'm now not sure when it was, I do know it was after.
Stress is a wonderful thing. I also don't really trust myself driving in busy traffic. The DVLA had taken all my driving licences from me after my brain fart, and even though they did return my car licence after some time, I still struggle with multiple choices all at once. I must be a risk on the road, so I wont take that chance with myself and other road users.
This leaves me in a difficult position. I find myself, forgetful, unsociable, unable to travel alone and frustrated with myself all the time.
Yes, yes, I know. I am in relatively good health and should be thankful.
Karen is a star, and takes good care of me. We have bad days as do all couples, but overall, we are a great team and I can never thank her enough for being such a wonderful wife and soul mate.
Considering we spend all our time in each others pockets without a break, I'm amazed we still get on so well.
One thing I have noticed is that the outdoor skills I have learned over the years, have not suffered from my loss of memory or logic processing ability.
I have thought about this for some time and the only explanation I can arrive at is this.
As humans we have been around for several hundred thousand years, evolving all the time and finally arriving where we are today, modern man. during this time we have learned so much about living with nature. This today is called Bushcraft, or primitive skills, and considered a hobby or pass time. But It is an instinctive set of skills, and has been engrained in our minds by the need to survive for eons. Most of what we learn today, from birth to death, is applicable only to modern civilisation.
If you consider for arguments sake that early man, homo erectus, arrived on the scene some two hundred thousand years ago, and that we began to give up the life of hunter gatherers as recently as ten thousand years ago, we find that our modern skill set as humans is fractional in the time line of man.
Moreover, if we consider that industrial civilisation has only came about in the last few hundred years, we have to concede that, what we think of as important learned skills have only been so for what is comparatively, a single grain of sand on a vast beach stretching for miles.
So, I would assume that if I was to instinctively remember anything, it would be the beach as a whole and the single grain of time that is modern life will be of inconsequence.
I am not saying that we all have the knowledge at the forefront of our minds. Most people have lost the knowledge. But the instinct is still there. I am simply fortunate in that since the late 1970s I have been learning primitive skills. This wakes the long engrained instinct from it's slumber, and when modern working knowledge of our live fails, all that remains are fragments, and that imbedded instinct we have awoken.
In short, I confuse sentences, I struggle with technology and I am forgetful, but when out in the woods, I know how to light a fire and build a shelter without any thought. The re awoken instinct kicks in and it is as if my hands don't need my brain.
As a result, I long for time in the woods, the one place where I don't feel any different than I did before.
The nearest place of solace for me is about ten miles away and although it might not seem far, I cant drive there. I ask Karen frequently but there is always something more pressing things that seem to take over.
I miss the woods, eating freshly caught fish, rabbit or wild foods picked. Sheltering snuggly in a stricture built by my own hands or warming by a fire.
I miss my good friends Mark and Inga, a short drive away but always so far and so busy.
I long for what pleases me, and I wait patiently for the time when I can use my hands to build a new life.
After three hours of righting this and now the distraction of the telly, my head is fried.
I will continue though. When my brain is rested and silence returns.