Drama King

My apologies to anyone who reads my Facebook status updates. Today was kind of a rollercoaster. By "today" I mean Wednesday, just to clarify as it's after midnight.

I guess that's what the updates are for but I feel a little guilty about dragging you into my dramas. I'm okay, really. It was just a day that started badly and took a while to get it back on track. I'm hoping that I've broken the back of it and that the next two days will be a touch easier on my head.

It's a very mild night in Cork tonight so I hope I'll be able to sleep. I got to spend some lovely time with my Pretty Lady earlier on and I'm hoping that's mellowed me out enough to settle properly. I'll set the sleep timer on my radio and drift of to a little music, I think. Sweet dreams, everyone. I hope you can all snuggle up with your loved one, or at least with the thought of them.

Hoots!

Jeez, I can't believe it's been 10 days! Don't the time fly, even when we're not throwing Alarm Clocks around.

The itching hasn't gone yet. It's moved, which I guess makes it more liveable with but it's getting mighty old, I don't mind telling you. If I could type with a pair of scratch-mitts on, I'd be wearing them 24/7 at the moment.

Today didn't help that. I don't know whether I may have subconsciously invoked it, or been psychologically unprepared for the start of the week but Monday morning hit me straight, smack, plumb between the eyes. Bastard. I reeled but didn't go down (no smutty jokes please!). I hung on for dear life and as the hours rolled on I started to work my way back into things a little. Next time I have to face a Monday I shall bite kick and pull hair.

Since we last spent any time in each other's company I've had a few days away in Scotland with my Pretty Lady. She was asked to go over and deliver some training there and I was able to get time off at short notice to travel with her. I worked from our hotel room while she was away during the day but we got to spend the evenings together, to travel together, to fall asleep and wake up together. I may even find a picture to add to the end of this post later.

Or I may not, depending on my mood.

Scratches

Whether it's stress, that I'm "run down" or whether it's just because, I feel like a mass of irritations at the moment.

Not psychological ones, for the most part - I mean that I itch.

I got several good suggestions for ways to treat it from friends this evening, so I'll start to try some of those out. It is actually driving me crazy, and it's far from being an attractive look. Not even I can wear this one well!

I don't have much to say here tonight, especially given the hour. I just wanted to check in to let anyone who passes know that I'm still here, still standing. Not literally standing, of course. That would make the whole typing thing a little more difficult than it needs to be. And thank God I'm not employed for my typing skills, that's all I can say on the subject.

Okay then, the time is now tomorrow morning o'clock so I'm going to snuggle down into my pillow and go in search of sweet dreams. With any luck, gentle reader, the next time I write here, it'll be something that merits reading a little more.

Heads!

Why are so many things positioned at head height?

I understand that it's the best height for some things, I really do, although I can't think of any at the moment. Mirrors, I suppose. Anyway. I'm talking about things that seem intended as booby traps. Like the overhead "racks" on coaches. They're not big enough to put anything other than a coat on, and the coaches that run out to the airport specifically ask you not to put bags on them. The bloody great things almost loom out into the aisles, though and yes, before you ask, I hit my head on one today.

That was less painful and less embarrassing than the first knock I took, though. The canteen at work has two sinks for employees to use to wash up their mugs etc. Over each is a plastic holder for a large "kitchen roll" type thing. And they're positioned at about head height. See where I'm going with this one? They don't have to be anywhere near reachable with one's head. If they were behind the sinks then it'd take a pretty serious effort to crack your forehead off one, rather than just being a little dopey first thing, chatting while reaching for roll and not really paying attention.

There's no need for it. I'm just sayin'...

The Light Of A Candle

I can be strong. I can listen while someone rants and vents. My shoulders are strong enough to bear the weight of other people's upset. Don't get me wrong though, I'm no saint and I'm no superman. Sometimes the most unexpected things bring tears sparking to my eyes.

Today my Pretty Lady and I went out for eats after work. We were just chatting and joking over our meal. I'd had trouble hearing her all the time we were there until the waitress put a new candle on our table. Suddenly I could hear. Astonishing. Polly smiled and told me it was because the candle was a "magic listening candle". I felt my face twist, just a little, and suddenly everything was blurred. It was just the right balance of magical, mystical, childlike (in a very good way) and funny that I could hardly believe it. Just one of the many, many reasons that I love her.

She's working from home for the rest of the week - a well-deserved break from the commute, anyway. I'll miss her loads until I see her on Friday evening but I'll cope.

So I'm back on the buses for the rest of the week. Not a problem. I'll need to be up and out of the house at an early hour but that's okay too.

I'm thoroughly enjoying my new phone. I was right to go for the HTC Desire. I'm slowly finding out more and more about what it's capable of. It really is like carrying a computer around in my pocket. My two latest discoveries are from the Android Market app store. First up, the perfect news reading application - World Newspapers, which is just what I've been looking for. More of a "toy" is the Google Sky Map app. You just point your phone at the sky, and it will shows the stars, planets,
constellations, and more to help you identify the celestial objects in view. Very cool.

Right then, as I need to be up in the morning, I'd better try to get some sleep. Sweet dreams, everyone. I hope that theres a light in all your lives, like there is in mine.

The Day Of Rest?

Surreality? Surrealness? Something like that anyway. All my sensibilities are still outraged at a young girl, fun of fun and laughter, with a four year-old daughter, lying dead in a wooden box. All the crosses and candles in the world won't bring her back to see her daughter off on her first day at school. So sad.

In the nearly two years I've been in Ireland, I've rarely felt as much a foreigner as I did today. My ignorance of Catholic services is clearly a gap in my education but the removal today felt very alien to me. More accurately, I felt very alien to it. Not knowing any of the responses due to the Priest, I kept a respectful silence. It's not for me to show disrespect to anyone's beliefs or traditions. And all the time that box is sat in front of all of us.

I guess that none of know what any day, any moment may bring. For myself, I'll do what I always do - I'll live as best I can by my own lights. I'll work as hard as I know how, I'll treat others as I'd like for them to treat me (unless doing so becomes the equivalent of banging my head on the proverbial brick wall, in which case I'll shrug and leave them to their own devices) and I'll follow my heart.

For many people the most important question that they are ever asked, and the question they spend their lives in answering, is "How would you like to be remembered?"

For me, there is an easy one-word answer. It's the one I gave when I was first asked the question and I've never wavered: fondly.

The Dance

It's been a funny old week. I only worked for three days of it but seemed to fit an awful lot into those days. I'm still finding my feet in some aspects of the job and am maybe over-compensating a little and throwing myself at everything. I possibly need to step back and chill a little.

I'd booked Thursday and Friday off as holiday at short notice. I figured I've now been in Ireland long enough to celebrate St Patrick's Day with the locals, so strolled down to the parade in the city. It was a good vibe. Everyone seemed to be a happy mood so I wandered around for a while, fussed some random dogs, had a couple of pints and went home again.

My Lady was able to finish early on Friday and we went out for a late lunch and spent some time together. It was a little strange, to be honest. Friday lunchtime we'd received the shocking news that one of the girls at work had been killed in a car crash. I can't claim to have known the girl well but I liked her. The last time we spoke was on my birthday. Someone in her department had a birthday as well and they had cake, When she found it was my birthday too I got an e-mail from her inviting me down for a slice. She always had a smile and a joke for everyone. There'll be an Aoife-shaped hole in the building's heart from now on.

It's the first time that my Lady and I have dealt with a loss like this together. She was a huge support to me when my brother passed away in 2008 but that was hardly unexpected, this is different. So we've been learning the steps to the saddest of dances - the mourning, grieving dance. Learning to step lightly and thoughtfully, not hiding feelings and minding raw edges. It's not easy but we managed it.

On a lighter note, the moon is nearer to the earth than it's been for years, apparently. After several beautiful, clear, early spring nights in a row, I had hopes of being able to gaze at it for a while but the Irish weather has had other ideas. It's been raining most of the day and tonight the rain has brought along its good buddy Thick Fog for a visit. So no Moon bathing for me tonight!

Oh balls!

It sounded kind of tasty. "Roasted Irish Beef Meatballs with Chilli, served with Steamed Rice", although the random capitalisation is all my own work.

The rice was good and the chilli sauce was very tasty. The problem entirely centred on the meatballs. Precisely what part of Irish cattle these things came from, I shudder to think. No please, don't say it. You'll make me gag again.

Things had started swimmingly. I was enjoying lunch and everyone around me who had gone for the same option seemed to be enjoying them too. I went to cut into another meatball and found something that resisted my knife. Strongly. Magnificently, I chose that exact moment to find that the meatball I was currently chewing had something of the same consistency about it.

So I'm sat in the middle of a crowded canteen and what I really want to do is spit the damned thing out. Clearly this wasn't going to happen. Making no further attempt at all to chew, I swallowed and then gulped down most of a bottle of Lucozade. I enjoyed the rest of the rice and even managed to smile at those around me and make a few ghastly attempts to join in the conversation. Whatever was in the half-meatball left on my plate, and in the one I'd bravely swallowed has been haunting me all afternoon though. I wouldn't go so far as to use the expression "waves of nausea" but there were certainly gentle ripples of it.

See now I'm typing it, it's happening again! I really, really need to stop thinking about the day the canteen served bollocks for lunch!

Bonsai!

It was my birthday on Friday. After getting some advice from a certain lovely lady, the rest of my team presented me with, amongst other things including Lemon Cake, this beautiful specimen...

I'd been saying for some time that I wanted a plant for my desk but I never imagined that I'd end up with such a beautiful Bonsai. He's sat on my desk at work and I have named him Robert. Robert Plant - geddit??

I'm hoping that he's been okay over the weekend. I made sure that he was fed and watered but I feel kinda guilty about having left him there when we'd only just met. One of colleagues was in over the weekend and was given strict instructions to make sure he was okay, and to chat to him a little. So, first thing in the morning it'll be coffee for me and my pretty girl, water for Robert.

To sleep, perchance

Nearly every morning this week I've been struck by how spring-like everything is. Trees breaking out in cherry-pink and apple-blossom white, just th smell of spring in the air. Then of course, I wake up today to find snow in the air. I know that it's not unheard of in March and that it was forecast but it still surprised me.

I seem to remember snow in June one year when I was still at primary school. I can't tell you exactly which year or even if it definitely happened. It's more of an impression that I have. It was, after all, a long time ago now.

And speaking of a long time ago, I know that Nicotine replacement patches say on the packs that they may interfere with sleep patterns (or something like that) but if I'd realised quite how much of a problem sleeping would become I may well have kept smoking! I'm now taking a herbal remedy (not that kind of herbal remedy!) to try to combat it. I can either get to sleep straight away and then wake during the night or have hell and all trouble settling before sleeping through. Quite frankly, it's a pain in the arse. I even downloaded an app to my new phone which will play "ambient" sounds - wind, rain, birdsong etc etc. Does it help? Hard to say but I'm about to try again.

I'm actually developing a headache so the time to turn off the computer has clearly come. Sweet dreams, everyone.

Kind Of Testing

So I'm taking advantage of the free Wi-fi in the pub and checking out the Blogger application for my new phone.

How well it'll format we'll have to see. If I'm not happy with it there are third-party apps for Blogger or I could always use the browser and go straight to the home page and post from there.

Now, I need to get ready for Ireland v Wales.

By Special Request

I hope, at some point soon, to get to a point where I don't have to start each post with an apology for how it's been since the last one. Clearly that isn't going to be tonight. Sorry it's been so long, guys.

It's not like I haven't had stuff to blog about, I just haven't got around to it. When I've been sat here in the evening I've just been doing other stuff - reading, watching TV, listening to music and just playing on the internet. I just haven't been motivated to blog. No, "motivated" is the wrong word. I've sat here and thought "I want to blog."

I just haven't got around to it, somehow.

So what's been happening? I got around to getting myself a new phone. I now have one of these...

...which I'm very happy with, thank you for asking. It's a little big to comfortably fit in the pocket of a pair of tight jeans but we all have our cross to bear, right?

I could have gone on for a little longer but I seem to have dozed off in front of the computer and it's now 10 to 3 in the morning. This means I should probably shut down and get some proper sleep. I'll try to pick this up again tomorrow. Or later today. You know what I mean.

Late

No, I haven't forgotten about it here.

I'm just too tired in the evenings to get anything sensible written here. I'm just about holding it together through the day but by the time I get home from work my powers of invention have deserted me completely. I mean, I'm just rambling now.

Not that I can sleep at the moment, of course. Oh no. So I listen to music and I read. Refilling myself with words, almost. Refuelling. Recharging.

Proximity

I'm quite prepared to accept the statistics that show that air travel is safer than driving, crossing the road, hanging wallpaper and combing your hair. You know what I mean.

Until I moved to Ireland I had never flown in an aeroplane. Even now I've only flown three times. There's an impression of safety that one gets though. I know that planes crash occasionally, killing hundreds of people but it's removed somehow. It's something that happens a long way away and is only seen on the news.

On Thursday a plane crashed while trying to land in fog at Cork Airport, which is about five minutes brisk walk from the Airport Business Park where I work. I think I maybe even heard it happen. There were 12 people on board the place, six of whom survived. Two of them walked away from it, miraculously. Everyone I spoke with in our building was very upset and shaken by it. Having something like this happen so close to you brings home somehow just how quickly things can go wrong. My deepest sympathies to the families and friends of those who weren't lucky.

Thirteen

A young lady of my acquaintance celebrated her 13th birthday this weekend. This set me thinking - what can I remember of being 13? 

The year was 1979 and the world was a very different place. I was at an all-boys school and was painfully shy. I was no athlete or sportsman and was no academic high-flier either. I was spectacularly ordinary, I guess.

One way in which I might not have been so ordinary is that I was aware of what was going on around the world. Dad always had the 9 o'clock news on the TV and I'd gotten into the habit of watching the early evening news myself. Add to this the fact that I would always read the newspaper and I was pretty clued-in.

I remember that in 1979 Margaret Thatcher was elected Prime Minister and both Lord Mountbatten and Airey Neave met untimely ends. The Shah left Iran and Ayatollah Khomeini moved back in and the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan. That's without looking stuff up. All of that is more what happened in the year I was 13 than what it was like to be 13, though.

It's nearly 32 years ago and I'm a little foggy about it, to be honest. I remember being shy, as I said, and quiet. I remember being anxious, ready to see the worst in everything and probably more than a little paranoid. How much of this is typical among 13-year old boys I couldn't say. I wasn't an only child but the nearest of my sisters to me in age was 16 years older than I was so I may as well have been an only child. Effectively I was brought up by five adults - my parents and brother and sisters. Did this make me different to other kids? I guess that everyone is different in some way or another and that's as far as I'm going with this at this time of night.

Randomiser

Courtesy of the Random Word Generator, today's word is "Dustbin".

A dustbin today is almost a redundant concept. The nearest we might get to one is a bin in a kitchen for waste. The Wheelie Bins that are ubiquitous on our streets on collection today are almost nothing like the dustbins we had when I was a child. They were actually made out of metal, can you imagine that? They looked a little like this

although not as shiny, usually.

The rattle of a dustbin lid being replaced is one of those sounds that resonates through the years. It reminds me of school holidays when I'd be at home for the collection and could watch through the window, not being allowed outside in case I got in the way.

Never mind mechanical contrivances to lift them, readers of A Certain Age will probably remember that these things were manually lifted and emptied into a Dustcart by a breed known as Dustmen. These guys were strange and almost kind of otherworldly to me when I was five or six. Tradesmen who visited the house were respectful and deferential but the dustmen were filled with pet names and nicknames for everyone. And for some reason they had to have gifts when they made their last rounds before Christmas - a peculiarity of my mother's that I've never understood.

I haven't seen a metal dustbin for more years than I care to remember.

Suddenly February

I'm sorry that it's been so long. I didn't mean to leave it longer than a week.

I've got into the swing of things in the new job and when I've got home in the evenings I've just been chilling. I honestly haven't thought about blogging before tonight. What I have been trying to do is ensure that all the music I have on my iPod is backed up on a spare hard disk and that it has all the relevant artwork. Slightly OCD here remember? I now need to summon up the courage to sync the iPod with the backed up memory... oh, and the patience. It's likely to take a little while.

I am also pleased to say that I'm still not smoking. It's been very difficult sometimes but I'm just about coping. Strangely, I can still almost taste cigarettes in my mouth sometimes, which is a little disconcerting. One thing I've noticed is that when passing someone smoking in the street I'm now aware that I don't like the smell of cigarettes very much. I think I'm done for good this time.

After the kind of gap of gap I've left since I last blogged there ought to be something more profound for me to say. And there is. But it's a little late for that.

Almost

It must be colder than I thought tonight. I turned the shower on and was just letting it run for a minute or two when the water flow spluttered and nearly quit. I've seen that before - the water was frozen in the pipe.

Or rather, nearly frozen. The water just about managed to get going again. Another five minutes may have been too late. I knew that it was frosty outside but didn't realise that things were quite that far below zero. I'm very pleased that I'm not having to walk for a bus in the morning.

I hope that I sleep a little better tonight than I did last night. For whatever reason, I was awake for a fair proportion of the night. There weren't bad dreams or anything like that, I just couldn't settle. The only thing that I can put it down to is that Saturday evening I suddenly had to change my behaviour due to someone unexpected walking through a shop doorway. And I'll go no further than that.

Having had an unsettled night, I should probably be turning in as I'm back to work tomorrow. So for tonight, that is all!

Caught!

I thought of an analogy today.

My first two weeks in the job have made me feel like a cricketer, with chunks of information flying over my head. I've managed to catch some of them...

...and as for the rest, if I can continue with the cricketing theme, I may not have caught those balls but I know where they went and I can get them if and when I need them!

I have a Team Night Out with my new team this evening. I don't know what any of the rest of them have planned but after the whiskey-fuelled debacle of the other weekend I will be keeping things lightweight. I have to be back at work and compos mentis tomorrow!

Coded

For a Monday, today was a good day.

I learned just how rusty my html coding is but through sheer bloody-mindedness I was able to get through what I was meant to. I sit next to my new manager and she admitted that she was "throwing everything at Greg" this afternoon. That's okay too. I guess she's after finding out what I can handle.

I also learned that Polly and I have tickets for the "Post-Peak Party", to be held at one of Cork's swankier hotels in just under two weeks. It's a slightly themed party and I may be going out to try to hire what our American cousins would call a tuxedo. In which case there may be photographs!

Enough about work. I'm dangerously close to the edge of my self-imposed prohibition on posting about my job. So what else? I'm still off the cigarettes and at the risk of jinxing it, I'm not suffering too much. I even wandered over to my local yesterday afternoon to watch a rugby game and didn't feel any kind of compulsion to try to scrounge a smoke from anyone. This is a good thing.

I've adjusted the time of day that I apply a new nicotine patch, which seems to help with any difficult urges late at night. Or at least, tobacco-related urges! As this is a family show, I should probably stop there.

So I'm still at work at the moment. Not working myself (as you can tell) but just waiting for the prettiest girl in the world to finish what she needs to finish before we leave. I'm perfectly content sat here with her. Beats the Hell out of gazing blankly at a TV!