Random thoughts from a bewildered and naked mind


Don’t say the words you think I want to hear,

No reassuring artificial cheer,

When life is grim,

As it just might be,

Instead of ‘holy’, give me tea.

Or wine. Something.

Maybe a fag.

         (I’m going out for chips in Aberaeron later. That’s one answer to life’s pain.)


Don’t say the words that might sound saintly,

Or grasp my arm and whisper faintly,

And don’t! OH! Desist!

This one (in bold) resist;

Don’t throw the Bible at my head

Bring me laughter, or cake instead.

Or both. Or all. That’s it.

That’ll do.

Bring all three. The Bible, cake and you.

And the laughter will bring itself.


Marrieds are oh so smugly married, and families are so tightly family, and sometimes you just need, need need someone to reach out. Not to comfort, or lecture, or jolly-up, or console, just to be there, to be a beating heart next to your own,  and maybe to say just a few, few words like ‘I know. It’s a pile of shit just now.’

They don’t need to add ‘But God is good.’

Because when you’re deep in trouble, you know that God is good. Deep down, you know that God is good. That’s the one certainty.



Standing on the beach this morning, in the dark, I asked Him ‘Why do none of your followers care enough to be here with me?’ and He said ‘Because they are asleep. As in Gethsemane.’

And that shut me up. For a bit.

Smug marrieds. Was I ever that smug? Probably. How often did George and me reach out?

Hmmm.  Rarely.

Prayers are so good. Shared prayers. So good.

3 thoughts on “Random thoughts from a bewildered and naked mind

  1. We Marrieds don’t mean to be smug or to leave you on your own, we just don’t understand the loneliness you must feel without someone beside you, someone who knows how you feel by simply listening to you breath……..to have had that and then to have it taken away must be the most painful kind of loneliness you could feel….
    I’m sorry I’m not with you when you need someone….xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Not smugly married, if admittedly familied, I apologise. As the sender (one of the senders?) of the phrase. It was meant in light of the going-pear-shaped situations in which A. usually says it. And it is true. But still, I’m sorry.
    I can’t be there. I can’t bring you cake. But if it helps at all, picture for a moment a young woman in grubby overalls and grubbier barn coat, sitting on half a bale of straw in the corner of a damp breeze-block stable, praying for your friend (I know her too, a bit, you know) — and you. Yesterday. Last night. This morning. A lot.
    Take care.


    1. No judgment of smugly marrieds. As I admit quite openly and in a ‘take it or leave it’ vein, I was one. And thank you for your prayers. Can never have too much of them!


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