A few days prior to the end of 2012 I had a very disconcerting experience.

Lacking ready cash (no surprise there, eh?) I went along to the bank to make use of one of its three cash machines. None of them condescended to give me any bread though I was pretty sure I had at least a couple of hundred pounds available.

So, with the machines out of action I went inside and asked the cashier to let me have a hundred pounds.

“Sorry, the machines are down”, she said.

“Which means what?” I asked, somewhat narked.

“Well, the machines are down” she said again.

“Are you telling me that because your machines don’t work, I can’t have any of my own money?”

“Well,” she said yet again, “the machines are down”.

I looked at this human being one more time but it was clear she hadn’t grasped what was

troubling me. Afterall, as she had clearly pointed out, the machines were down.

To say I left the bank ‘a wee bit miffed’ is putting

it mildly. And after an unsatisfactory night’s attempt at sleep I was, as they say, ‘fit to be tied’. My mind was now blazing with frustration, though not half as sore as my groin.

Was I not a Man, a male of the species, one with the Power to ‘make things happen’, who walked ever proudly with heels firmly implanted on the ground, thereby drawing a natural strength from my assured contact with the Earth?……

…… all of which seemingly counted for sod-all when the ‘machines are down’.

Whose Power exactly was in control of my Life, asked my mind and my groin, me, or the machine?

And it was then that the real horrorshow hit me.

Subsequently,

I’ve moved out of ‘Intensive Care’ but I’m still fretting in ‘Recovery’.

But don’t bet the farm I’ll recover.