Humour

 

The postman only visits once a week now.

I think the Post Office think I don’t notice but I DO! 

For every Thursday or Friday I get a Couple of junk letters, a few flyers and perhaps two regular letters.

Bastards ! 

Yesterday there was a card, handwritten and stamped ( a rarity I thought) 

After 38 years I even recognised the writing, it was a card from Tracey my old psychiatric nurse mukker from the 80s. 

We have been corresponding on line for a little while now, and it’s been interesting to explore just why we were friends in the first place .

It was all down to humour. 

Most of my friends possess a good sense of humour.

Nu, is the most notable as she and perhaps Tracey possess the most overt and infectious types of humour. They light up a room with it upon entering 

And that is a skill I envy.

I say this, knowing full well that my humour is an asset, it is an icebreaker, defence mechanism, friend maker and friend. From an early age, I found it fended off bullies and helped me get by in school and at home, and although not honed in those salad days of psychiatry I learned quickly how to use it to my advantage.

People without any humour and warmth baffle me. 

Admittedly they are few and far between, but they do exist.

More commonly the humour is leeched out of them by sadness , circumstance or lack of use, but I like to think that grains of it remain, just waiting for someone or something to ignite it .

I remember a patient of mine , who was mute, laugh loudly and strongly when a bad boy in his hospital ward got knocked on the head by a vase, held by another mute patient. 

Just something in that odd moment hit that chuckle muscle and off he went like a bottle of champagne