Dancing to the music of thunder

Have you seen all the gadgets you can buy to stop snoring? Nose clamps, mouth thingies that hold the airways open and of course the oxygen machine that fits over your face to stop sleep apnoea? I have always believed that it was part of growing older, or fatter. My Gran could put out an impressive snore or two and I thought it was inevitable that it would be my destiny. And it was. Sadly I can drown out the thunder during a lightning storm. Just to be clear, I do not drink alcohol or smoke, so those factors are not a problem, although Gran loved a small glass of Brandy to send her to sleep at night. Was that a problem? Who knows? But a new concept caught my eye this week. No, it's not the laser surgery or the exercise where I grip my tongue between my teeth and hum. Well, okay, it is kind of like that. But I was reading that opera singers, overweight and sometimes heavy drinkers, do not snore. The reason we snore is that the soft palate at the back of our throats relax and block the airways. The reason singers do not snore, (or so I am told) is that the act of singing strengthens the palate and keeps those muscles nice and taut. Hence no snoring. But what if you are a terrible singer? What happens if when you open your mouth that birds fall from trees and cats run for the hills? Then you can strengthen that part of the throat by gargling. Gargle for one minute in the morning and at night and hey presto, you can put aside those pesky oxygen masks etc. Or at least not need them so much. But did you know that snoring triggers weight gain. Yes, your body starts to crave sugary and fatty foods to combat the incipient fatigue that snoring causes. The more fat your body piles on the more you snore and the cycle continues. Diabetes, heart problems to mention two problems as well as the stress it puts on some marriages. Singing and gargling can cure 60% of snoring issues. So, get your groove on. Put the music on your device and exercise your throat as well as your body as you sing and dance around the house. Go on. Do it. And if anyone asks what you are up to, say you are preventing heart attacks and losing weight. Or if you are shy, shut the bathroom door and gargle, gargle, gargle your cares away. And don't make those pharmacies rich by buying their gadgets before giving my advice some thought. Please. Give it 90 days. And it's free. No gym fees. I promise. Just for me and all those who want to dance to the music of thunder and not snoring.

For the past few days I have been doing my usual reading and writing for children at a local school who struggle with exams. I had two girls with anxiety. A musician that had damaged his wrist while playing a stringed instrument. I had the boy who had to pace around the room because he hates sitting still and I even had the kids who fell asleep. Ten children from different walks of life and all needing my skill to be able to write a legible script. I thought my husband might have enjoyed the process of helping, but sadly his writing was difficult to read, so he would have failed at the first hurdle. The second hurdle would have been spelling. Oh yes, thank goodness for spell check. Anyhow there I was getting hand cramps as the children told me what they wanted me to put on the paper. Space science, genetics, history, geography and all subjects in between. But as I chatted to these youngsters while we waited for the time to start, I wondered why we allow children of eighteen to choose our futures. Okay, I know, it is not fair that the parents do the choosing either, but seriously we saddle our future selves with the opinions of a teenager. A teenager that we would think twice before allowing behind the wheel of our cars. The part of the brain that governs impulse takes 25 years to develop. Before that children make decisions on the moment. A whim, a crush on a girl, a favourite movie star or sports star or something that in twenty years might have lost its sheen. But did you know that as you age and reach my ancientness, that the impulse centre in the brain starts to degrade. Elderly folks are more inclined to do silly things. Make silly decisions, buy stuff they don't need or take a trip they shouldn't. We think we are so wise as we age, but the opposite is actually true. We age disgracefully. Sometimes our language becomes more colourful, our speed sneaks up on our drives and we may even choose to believe scam artists. Yes, I am guilty. I was scammed this month. I immediately jumped online and froze my credit card and sent off emails to the offender in the vain hope that they might have a conscience. Well they didn't and I paid the $200 school fees of life for being an idiot to believe their spiel. Oh well, at least it wasn't totally crippling, just embarrassing. Now I am waiting for the bank to decide if I should get the money refunded via their insurance policy. Holding thumbs and crossing fingers and toes that they do. You might be wondering what I chose as an 18 year old to make my life's work? Well, firstly I wrote my year 13 year exams when I was still 16. I turned 17 the week after exams were completed and within a month I was working at a bank, which I hated with a passion. At 18 I was still a zombie bank clerk wondering how life could be so awful. And then I met my husband and he shone a light that I wanted to follow. What should I have done as a job if I had the choice all over again? Well, who knows? I certainly had some ideas but nothing else matters because nothing came from dreams without the ability to make them become reality. But those 15 year olds that I helped with exams this week, let's hope they have guidance in their future. One guy wants to be a Rugby star like the All Blacks and design off road bike tracks as a back-up career. Two wanted to be farmers like their dads and another one had no idea. But it was the young man who looked at me with all the hope washed out of his eyes that said 'Well, I suppose I could always be a builder? I am not clever enough to do much else.' I wanted to give him a big hug and tell him to reach for the stars. But you know that I am not allowed to do that, social distancing and Covid as well as rules and regulations mean I cannot treat him like a son or grandson. I smiled and said 'Well, we always need builders. You will never be out of work.' But oh how my heart broke for him. He has three years to find his passion in life before his 18 year old self makes a decision that will colour the rest of his life.

I don't own a pair of Ugg boots but I admit to having looked at them in the shop and considered purchasing them. I wondered who had developed the concept. Surely it would be some cold country like Scandinavia or Russia or Alaska? But no, it was those Aussies. Australian surfers would get out of the surf after a day in the water and want to keep their feet warm without the trouble of actually putting on shoes. Australians still consider Ugg boots a Bogan or daggy dress choice. (Daggy is used to refer to something that is not quite fashionable and is derived from the practice of cutting dirtied wool from the rear area of sheep) Ugg boots are made from sheep fur with the leather part on the outside and the fluffy fur on the inside. Surfers in Australia and New Zealand have been wearing them since the hippy era of the 1960's when fashion was considered less important than comfort. It makes me want to dash out and buy a pair, but truthfully, that beige colour is not my favourite. I like my shoes, daggy or not, to be at least a little bit more colourful. Red shoes like Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz ... now, those are shoes. Do you know that the original script for the Wizard suggested that the shoes should be silver? But the colour did not show up against the yellow brick road. Hence the decision to change the hue of the shoe. And who knew that the shoes are actually a symbol of defiance against authority? The revolution in which Dorothy starts to free the downtrodden from an oppressive regime starts as she sets out to find her own way home. The shoes were originally white and covered with red fabric and sequins. Definitely not an off the shelf purchase. Here was a simple farm girl out of her depth in a strange country with weird and wonderful creatures all around her. She takes off her farm shoes and replaces them with the red slippers thanks to Glinda the witch. I consider Scarecrow who wants a brain. Isn't that all of us? Don't we all yearn to be cleverer? No? Well, I do and I think some of those students did this week during exams. The Tin Woodman wants a heart. I suppose that represents the need for love and affection and connection to others in life. And of course the Cowardly lion. I certainly quake in my shoes (not ruby red slippers or Ugg boots) at the thought of some problems, imaginary or not. I remember as a schoolgirl wanting all of those things. My sister was always held up as the brainy one in our family, my brother was always in search of love and affection and sometimes acceptance in his life. And bravery? That was all of us I suppose. The bravery to face life head on and carry on regardless. I remember, vividly, sitting in the surgeon's rooms as he told me that my baby daughter would die within a year and that there was nothing I could do to stop it happening. I sat there all alone as Rex, the surgeon, left the room to allow me time to compose myself. But how do you compose yourself after news like that? I went home and climbed into bed and pulled the sheet over my head, leaving my husband (who thought it was all a mistake and it would all get better if he ignored it) to see to our three young children. My doctor arrived soon afterwards and sat next to my bed holding my hand for an hour. Not saying much, just sitting quietly as I sobbed. (and no, he didn't charge me for the visit.) I lay there wishing I could have the Scarecrow's brains to invent a cure, the Tinman's heart to reach out to my husband and the bravery of the Cowardly lion to face the future without my child. I needed Dorothy and her magic shoes to make it all better, but I got Leon, the doctor and his kind eyes in her place. We all have Dorothys and Leons in our lives who are the tools that help us face the thunder and the lightning that accompany the storms of life. Rex had all the brains any of us could desire, but not an ounce of common sense to know that I needed someone to sit with me and talk to me. Did you notice that at no stage did I mention money factoring into this scenario? But it does factor in. It is just not the most important part of the choices we make. Money comes and money goes and more money only means that you can be miserable in luxury.