THE sun is shining and the birds are singing and so I am very glad to say all is well with my world.

Well, nearly all, as I do have one difficulty – this damn (sorry but they won’t let me use a stronger word) tinnitus.

For those that are not familiar with this, it is the name of a complaint I suffer from, which is a constant ringing noise in the head.

Funnily enough I thought that I was all alone in my suffering but, on investigation and talking about it to other people, I have found that quite a very large section of the population are in the same, sad situation.

Fortunately for me, I can hardly notice it when I am watching TV, listening to the radio, or when I am in a conversation with others, but while I am sat here, just thinking and writing in the quiet, it’s doing its best to drive me mad.

Well, not literally mad, of course, but it is certainly causing me some great annoyance.

I have seen specialists and audiologists and gone down every road that I possibly can.

But so far there has been no success.

So, if there is anyone that has any suggestions (only polite ones if you don’t mind please) that you think might just help, please could you let me know.

Well, the new year is now swiftly moving on towards spring and here we are almost at Valentine’s Day, again.

I remember some of the Valentine’s days of some years back, the time when I was about 16, when the anticipation of waiting for the postman was almost unbearable.

I would be full of anxiety.

Would the postman call and if so, would he be bringing me a beautiful loving card from him?

The ‘him’ varied from year to year and sometimes, I am more than glad to say, there were several hims.

Being the sentimental sort that I am, I do still have all those old cards, stored in my very tatty suitcase, which holds all sorts of old memorabilia.

I dare not bring it down.

If I do I shall sit down and start to sift through it, and before I know it the entire morning will have just flown by. But, strangely enough, it doesn’t matter how vivid, and potent those memories are; as one of our more romantic poets once said, ‘does anything ever recapture that first fine careless rapture?’