The Mubble-Fubbles

I learnt a new expression today: The Mubble-Fubbles. Well, at least, I think I did. I may have known it from before and shared it with you previously, but who remembers?

Anyway, I was doing a Writing for Wellbeing workshop this morning via Zoom and our tutor introduced us to the concept of the mubble-fubbles at this time of the year – meaning a state of depression or melancholy, despondency or low spirits – which she aimed to challenge.

I recognised the state and thought how apt. Naturally, I was eager to get writing if this was going to help. I must say that the writing did help a bit and we got to the end of the morning thinking about ‘respair‘ instead – the idea of looking forward and having hope.

Regrettably, the raised spirits sank a bit when I came downstairs to find that the shopping I’d ordered had arrived and it was time to put it all away. Getting lazy in my old age. It felt such a faff!!

John had surveyed the shopping and thought he’d stuff the frozen goods away but leave the rest to me. He, too, thought it was a faff and too much effort. But to my surprise, he started an even more difficult job in my opinion. The washing machine.

We’d had trouble with it recently as one of the stays had come adrift on the drum. John and I had put it back together again, but not long afterwards, it seemed to drift apart again. “John,” I said, “the drum on the washing machine is making a terrible racket. I think that stay has come off again.” John wasn’t so sure. He thought it was probably a bearing, so he contacted the company who make the drums and they sent him a replacement to fit. Ha! Ha! That was his job for the day. Gosh, it looked awfully complicated to me.

I took the photo too late. I wanted to show you all the bits of the machine strewn about the place, but this is at the stage when the ol’ man has put it back together again with just the finishing touches to do tomorrow.

However, suffice to say, he’d had that bit of concrete out, removed the old drum from the inside, swapped it for the new one, and then slotted the whole lot altogether again…… well, I was impressed, anyway!! Just got to find out if it works tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

While John was busy working, I was busy playing tennis. Not physically, you understand, but I was there, all afternoon, for every stroke of those who were playing in the Australian Open. John will be glad when the tournament comes to an end. Only a week to go….. then there’ll be Paris. Hehehe.

John was worn out after all his exertions and promptly fell asleep in his chair at tea-time. I was in a ‘couldn’t be bothered’ phase of the day and thought that the preparation of an evening meal was too much, so we had beans on toast and planned to go to bed early.

Foolishly, I watched more TV than is good for me and my early night isn’t quite so early after all. Ah, well. Maybe tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow – that’s respair for you.

Meanwhile, here’s a poem for your delectation on said subject:

Respair

respair....respair.....
will repair the broken heart
will breathe and breathe
a newness of life
to salve the soul
so gently
 slowly
caressing the spirit
reminding, remoulding, refreshing
and re-stitching
the golden thread:
Hope 

respair:
restoring
 those 
Broken 

It’s the weekend. Two days off. That means I shall not even look at COVID figures today and spoil what ought to be a carefree few hours.

Take care everyone. Please keep the positive vibes/prayers for Tim and Michelle going, if you are so inclined. Tim had surgery yesterday and is in recovery, but I understand it’s a painful process.

God bless.