A hobby a day keeps the cleaners away
So my seventy first birthday has come and gone.
Yes I know it was supposed to be my seventieth, but everyone seems to forget the day I was born, which strictly speaking was my one and only birthday. The thought of being born seventy times is sort of mind boggling.
Anyhows, someone has mentioned somewhere that it’s time I took up a hobby.
Coincidentally, when Daughter was here the other day she unearthed my old stamp collection. I thought I had chucked it out years ago so I told her to keep it [probably doing myself out of a few hundred thousand in the process]. I never liked stamp collecting – it was just something my mother insisted on when I was a wee lad for some unknown reason.
Unfortunately my fascination with computers has waned somewhat though I do fire the laptop up occasionally. If I had something challenging like creating an intensely complicated website that might change but in the meantime I need something else.
Anything involving the outdoors is out for several reasons [apart from trips to the coffee shop]. That eliminates bowling, archery or polo, along with bungee jumping and parachuting.
So I am narrowed down to the indoors which is surprisingly limiting. I would love to take up flying again but I couldn’t fit a Cessna through the garage doors.
I thought of becoming a hypochondriac as that is virtually limitless in its scope but I don’t think Doc would be too pleased?
After a lot of thought, I think I have found the perfect hobby.
I think I’ll become a hoarder.
Just think – no more tidying or cleaning! I can just sit here and throw my junk on the floor. As the room fills up I can just move to another room which will have the added advantage of a change of scenery. It will save me a lot too, between canceling bin charges and not having to buy any more cleaning materials.
The future would be exciting too. As I crawled from one room to another at ceiling height, crunching over discarded old junk, rotting food and cardboard boxes I could pretend I was caving which also used to be a serious hobby of mine. And just think of the excitement of burrowing down and finding long lost treasures under the piles of shit!
Yes. I think hoarding is the answer.
And you get somewhat agitated when a wee mouse invades your space. With your new hobby you'll most likely have dozens of them, maybe a rat or two plus all manner of creepy crawley.
Oh and the pong of their urine and faeces plus that truly bad stench when rodents give birth.
I do not believe you've discussed this with Mrs. Rambles.
I haven't seen or heard the slightest evidence of a mouse since Cat arrived. It's the only reason I allow it to stay.
I'm impressed. Alas I use a lighter so my matchstick days are in the dim distant past.
Ever thought of gardening? More specifically horticulture? Just find some remote spot on the estate and plant some weeds, well just one specific type of 'weed' really, which then addresses so many issues for the elderly.
First you get outdoor exercise, it spurs your mental creativity in disguising it from interested parties (i.e. the Garda), you will have a regular stream of visitors to counteract elderly loneliness and those visitors will insist on giving you money to supplement your meagre pension. You will obviously need to test the crop occasionally for quality control purposes, thus helping to calm your troubled mind as the outside world goes to hell in a handcart.
In the worst-case scenario, you get arrested and jailed, thus enjoying a free all-inclusive break, courtesy of the tax-payer, returning to find that the helpful Garda have freshly dug over your weed-plot, making it ready for the next planting. What's not to like? Get digging.
Indeed I have successfully experimented with horticulture with excellent results. Unfortunately Herself objected to the very strong smell [it was an indoor experiment] and I had to burn the lot. It took me months to burn. 😈
I went caving, once. Then I saw the light (a carbide light) and took to exploring old mines, a hobby I sometimes do to this day in my old age, knees permitting.
I also went caving once. It was with my father on the way back from a holiday, where we called in to Mitchelstown Caves in north Cork. In those days it was a Tilley Lamp experience and they have since ruined part of the atmosphere by turning it into a tourist spot with electric lighting and guided tours. That one trip though started me on a long passion with the underground. I have lost count of the caves I have explored in my younger [and more athletic] years.
Like Penny, Cat, and Herself?
Doubtless they will hep me with my hobby. Herself has already filled a couple of rooms with clothes she has never worn.