Reaction

I've been kind of passive this evening. Maybe because it was quite an intense day at work. I haven't been able to generate anything from within tonight.

I tried chess and really stumbled through a couple of games, quite unlike my recent form. Both Facebook and Google+ were open all the time and while I was able to pass a few comments there was never any indication that I'd add anything witty or insightful to the stream itself. Reaction, not action.

I couldn't even settle to reading, which isn't like me at all, preferring to gaze blankly at the telly or sit with music washing over me. I can't even scrape up the inspiration for a decent ending to this.

Soup Of The Day

I had Tomato Soup for dinner tonight, because it was a wet and stormy evening. It seemed like the weather for it, as it always does. Let me tell you a tale...

It was early in my time at secondary school. I was 11, maybe 12. To raise funds for a new school minibus, a sponsored walk was organised. The route took us along a footpath by the banks of the river that the town I grew up in was situated on. This was no clear flowing river with green trees overhanging bubbling water, rabbits and deer frolicking in the lush grass. The Great Ouse was brown and wide, silt-banked and flanked by the wide, empty fields of the northern Fenland, even close to Lynn.

We started at the beginning of the school day. Groups of friends strolling down the river path. As the morning wore on, the day made good on it's threat of rain. I don't remember that it rained very hard, I remember that it rained persistently, squalling into our faces, raindrops like a horde of insects buzzing inside hoods and under collars. "Blustery" doesn't quite describe it.

There was to be a stop after about 6 miles. The higher years could go on further if they wished but us youngsters were expected to stop in Stowmarket and turn round after a break. The town came into view and grew along the banks of the river. We reached the bridge and turned left into a field and what could almost be described as a marquee. Almost.

There were teachers. Teachers and a trestle table with sandwiches and a soup tureen. I chose a small plastic cup of Tomato Soup, sat on one of the folding chairs and began to sip at it. I can still remember the taste now. It never leaves me completely. It was warm and rich and creamy and spread through me slowly. I was still wet, and looking at a six mile walk home in the rain but suddenly all was right with the world.

From that day to this, if I hear the wind rattling raindrops against the window, a part of me wants Tomato Soup. In a plastic cup.

Put The Kettle On

It's amazing the way that things can change over the years.

I hadn't been awake for long this morning when I got a phone call. Shortly thereafter I was in the company of the prettiest girl in the world, munching a breakfast roll and reading the paper while we waited for Lidl to open. A rather lovely start to a Sunday.

20 years ago I probably started a Sunday with a hangover. Which brings me to an interesting observation. If I was given the choice between "no beers" (or any kind of intoxicating liquor) and "enough beers (or etc...) to make you wish you were dead in the morning", I would unhesitatingly choose the abstemious option. I just can't hack the hangovers any more. It used to be a case of "oh God, give me another drink". Now it's a case of "kill me, please!"

I guess it happens as one gets older. I've recently seen a Facebook group called "I don't have a hangover, I am actually dying" and I understand the sentiment completely. Would you believe that I've even given serious thought to going teetotal? I've had a bottle of whiskey in the house untouched for God knows how long, and there are bottles of beer in the fridge that must be dangerously close to reaching their Best Before date. I just don't enjoy it the way that I used to. Every once in a blue moon I really fancy a pint, but the nearest thing I can get to an enjoyable pint in Cork is probably one of the stouts. I miss Real Ale! But even if I had unlimited Abbot Ale at my disposal I wouldn't be going overboard.

I guess I've had my share. I'll have a cup of tea, please.

Drops

They call it the Emerald Isle because it's so green. It's so green because of the rain!

Sat here listening to the raindrops spattering against the window and drumming on the roof (it's better than the crows), reminds me of times spent walking in the rain with my phone pressed tight to my ear. My head tilted to try to keep my phone dry.

Some people walk in the rain; others just get wet.

Here's to walking in the rain.

Sunshy

I think I need to booby-trap my roof. No, really. I'm assuming it's crows or whatever the Hell the big, black smart-ass birds around Cork are. They don't walk like other birds, they kind of lollop along. When they do that on my roof it sounds like the approaching apocalypse. Barbed wire, or maybe some of these.

Should I be washing up? Or learning how to prune a Bonsai? Probably, rather than subjecting you good people to this witless prattle. To be honest, I was a little shaken (but not stirred) on the way home this evening. I noticed that the ringing in my ears was back again and spent most of the walk looking down at the pavement wondering how icy it'd be in four or five months. No matter. I have the pedestrian equivalent of crampons, for when I need them. I'd just be nice not to be quite so wary of the sound of silence, though. It's louder then.

I had a little spell of enjoying the sunshine this evening. It lasted for as long as I was walking the shade. Sunshine is one of those things that's very nice to watch but I don't necessarily want to get involved in it. Unless it's very early in the morning. The sun is still shy then, rather than brash and overbearing the way it gets later in the day. Sunshine in the summer is like that friend we've all had who is great company for a while but just wears you down after a time. 

I know that it appears that I've complained about snow and ice in one paragraph and then about the sun in the next. None of this is by way of a complaint. Whatever the weather does, I'd far rather be here to feel it on my skin than rush to the alternative.

It's getting late so I guess I should try settling down. On the buses to and from work this week so I have a fairly early start facing me. Now if only I could find the off switch for my mind...

Testing

Testing a new blogging client and a different browser to see how they handle formatting of paragraphs and the like.

If you see this, please disregard.

Thank you muchly.

Trimming

I need a haircut. It's got to the stage that it's starting to bug me. Yes, I can tie it back but that's not always comfortable and then there's the whole "coming loose from the hair tie and looking stupid" thing, that my hair does so well. I need to trim my beard as well but that's going to happen any minute when I go for a shower.

I really don't have that much to say here tonight. I worked on Saturday, having swapped it for last Monday. The Monday was totally worth it as I was able pamper my pretty girl while she got used to being back from Cape Town. Working Saturday was okay as it was fairly quiet in the building. I got a bunch of stuff done that I hadn't been able to get done during the week. I'm probably going to go in early a few mornings this week to get a start on things before other things crop up during the day.

I'll be making my own way in for most of the next two weeks - herself is on holiday so I'll be on the buses. If I wanted I could get a 5.40 bus and be in the office by 6. I might for a couple of days just to make the point that I can, having fallen foul of someone I used to work for, for being in too early. Never before have been told off for spending too long at work! Crazy.

I can't see that happening tomorrow morning, though. Maybe aim to be in for 7 as it's going to be another busy week. For now, it's the aforementioned beard trim and shower. And then bed.

Ante Meridian

We'll maybe call it a question of motivation. This last week, when I've been off work, I've barely left the house.

It's interesting in a way. I couldn't have what I really wanted and nothing else out there held much appeal this week. I've been out food shopping and that's pretty much it. I've been, if not content, at least accepting of pottering around the house, reading and listening to music. With the occasional DVD thrown in.

I wonder when the verb "to potter" came into its current usage? It's probably out there is some philological website but I can't be arsed to look it up at this time of night. Of the morning, actually.

"Morning". There's a word to conjure with. One morning, which will probably not be before next summer at the earliest, I'm going to sit up all night on a beach, possibly with a picnic and an acoustic guitar, and wait for the sun to rise. To be there to accept the blessing of the day before it becomes tainted. It won't be tonight, though. As I'm back at work next week I should really be getting some kind of a sleep routine going again or Monday is going to be an even ruder shock than usual.

And I guess that includes not blogging at a quarter to two in the morning. There's that m-word again.

Mental Paralysis

Still. Frozen, almost. As immobile as a railing in winter - the kind that your hand tries to stick to because of the frost.

I've tried to get my mind going to post something here but it just hasn't happened. No matter what's happened in the great big, wide, you-betcha world, there's been nothing to come trip-trapping out of the keyboard and onto the page. My mind hasn't really been stirred by the horror of a man's alternative to the democratic process, a voice being finally stilled, or by England winning one of the most exciting Test Matches I remember. My heart has, but not the creative synapses within my addled brain.

So this is now early Wednesday morning on the second week of my holiday. My reason for reason is thousands of miles away and a sultry night is drifting all around me. I'd give a lot for a thunderstorm right now, and I'd sure as certain be going for a walk in it. Yep, sure as certain. Right here and now. Not that it's going to happen. I'd be able to smell it if there was any good Irish rain nearby and I can't so there isn't.

There's the distant sound of cars trundling along. I can hear the occasional student as well. Always students. There's only about three hours out of the 24 that there isn't the sound of students. I remember the days when I could cheerfully have partied until the wee small hours and then functioned satisfactorily the next day. Those days are long gone, now, as are many things that I miss less.

The window is already as wide as it'll go but I'll try to force it a little wider. I'll stand there for a minute or two, hoping to catch a sweet breeze floating down from Airport Hill. And then I'll try to sleep. Again.

Caped

So it's official, now. For two weeks Cape Town is going to be the luckiest city in the world. This Saturday my Pretty Girl flies out there to deliver training until August 6th.

Of course, I'll miss her horribly but I'm very proud of her that she's been asked to go. We could have done with a little more notice and, in an ideal world, another payday before she goes but that's okay too. It is what it is. She has a functioning phone and iPod and I'll install Skype on the computer. I might even dodge over to Heathrow to meet her and accompany her back to her beautiful country.

We're spending as much time together before she goes as is possible. I'm "on holiday" and she's not, but we're finding ways around it. There'll be people out there saying "It's only two weeks! Get over it."

That'd be fair comment for some people but we're one of those nauseating couples who would cheerfully spend every minute of every day together. I can pass round a sick bucket, if it's be easier for you all.

On to other things - I don't know how many of you have found yourselves a Google+ invite. If you haven't and you'd like one, I can probably accommodate friends! That's a caveat, by the way. If anyone I don't know springs out of the woodwork having found their way here by searching for the aforementioned social network and begs an invite they can get knotted!

At some point in the next few days I'll be explaining why it's better than Facebook and Twitter and why I'm liking it so much already. Probably.

Back

So it's been nearly a month since I was here. A lot of that time has been spent doing "the word thing" at work. They pay the bills.

Have I been too drained to blog? Maybe so. Maybe so. I've tried once or twice. Sat here looking at a blank page, without any idea of what to type, without any idea whether it'd be any good if I did. It's very easy just to post links to Facebook or to Google+, the virtual way of saying "Hey, look at this!" without having to elaborate. Those closest to me will attest that I'm hardly a chatterbox.

Sometimes things move me so much that my faltering sentences don't do it justice. You'd have to look into my eyes to know how deeply I'm feeling things. Video-blogging? I don't think so, thanks a million. Not even if it were possible. It might be. Don't know.

What I want to  remember is that I may work with words all week but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy them when I'm not at work.

I've been fine, thanks for asking. Weary, because I've been working hard. I've had some lovely moments and days with my beautiful girl and I'm always looking forward to the next.

Life is good. I work hard because it's what's needed. I have a future to build and to plan for. There are worse jobs I could be doing.I'd still kind of like to move before winter but it will have to be a pretty special place. The memories I've made in this house have given it a tremendous aura and I'm very content. Stone floors in the depths of winter, though...

It's late so I'm done. The sun will rise tomorrow and I'll be at work. I'll be deeply in love and I'll be back Twirling again in less than a month. Promise.

Happy Monday

Well if the rest of my week's holiday is as enjoyable and relaxing as Monday I shall be a very contented dude.

I'm sat on my bed now with the soft light of an almost full moon drifting in through the window. There have been worse times in my life. It's a very mild night in Cork and kinda peaceful. Goodnight, everyone.

Degrees

So it's suddenly got too hot. It's been building for a couple of days but I've spent them in an air-conditioned building. That's not always a good thing but it was on Thursday and Friday. Today there was nowhere to hide and I've been slowly melting. Even now at twenty past 1 in the morning I'm uncomfortably warm. At least it's an excuse, if I needed one, to be sat up listening to the "new" Rory Gallagher album Notes From San Francisco. Hugely impressive.

As you may have noticed, I haven't been here much recently. I'm very grateful that some of you have getting dropping by, just to see if anything's happening.

I've been in rather a strange head-space. It's far from clinical depression (I've seen that. I know what it looks like), more akin to what Keats called "horrid morbidity of temperament". My bubble of good humour has been very easily pricked and I've taken slights far more to heart than usual. I may just be in need of a break. If that's so, it's good that I have the week after next off work. Apart from one day of it, I have no specific plans. I'll just play it by ear, so to speak.

It's lights out time, I think. Whether I'll be able to settle, remains to be seen. I certainly won't need to snuggle under a duvet tonight!

Not going there

It's been a Goddamned funny day. I woke up feeling convinced that something had happened while I was sleeping that I ought to know about. And I don't just mean that students had pushed next door's bin over or something like that. I was certain, from the second I opened my eyes that something of import had occurred. So much so that before my eyes were even properly clear I was scanning my usual news websites to find out what it was.

Nothing apparent. Yes, there's bloodshed in the Middle-East and financiers being charged with sex-crimes but I wouldn't expect either of these things to seep into my sub-conscious while I'm sleeping. I eventually got up, showered and went out for brunch with friends, still with something nagging at my mind. As an aside, can I say that the brunch was highly enjoyable - good food, good people and it could probably only have been improved if my Pretty Lady had been able to make it.

The people at the brunch know me as a fairly quiet guy so they may not even have noticed that I was a little preoccupied. I was able to push it one side for most of the time I was in company but after I'd kindly been given a lift home it flooded back. I couldn't settle in the house doing anything. I couldn't watch TV, listen to music, read or even attempt to do any work. I tried going for a walk in the hope that the wind in my face and spring flowers in my eyes might help but it was no good. The wind annoyed me and the flowers didn't seem to have their usual lustre.

So I've spent the evening doing what I usually do, but to the unexplained accompaniment of glasses sliding on the draining board, the wood of the bedroom floor feeling strange under my feet and something like an itch that I can't scratch worriting at me.

It's fine, though, Grand, even. It's nearly summertime and they do special discounts on travel to Crazy. It won't cost me an arm and a leg to lose my mind!

Here and now

I'm very, very lucky. In the eyes of one glorious woman, I'm a remarkable man.

As far as the rest of creation is concerned, I'm wholly unremarkable. I'm just a man. I'm good at some things, not so good at others and downright crap at some.

I'm not bad with words occasionally. It often takes me time to think of the order that they should go in though, which is why I'm better with the written word than the spoken one. And I'm good at being alone. I can watch TV, listen to music, amuse myself, talk to to plants, soft toys and myself.

I'm not good at being lonely, though. It'll pass. I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be all right again. It's not long until Monday and I might even see some friends over the weekend. But here, here and now, I'm lonely. I have a pillow to hug.

Back in the habit

A very beautiful lady pointed out that I haven't blogged for an awful long time. I just checked and it was April 24th. Wow, time flies!

This hasn't been a conscious decision. There've been a couple of times since then when I've meant to post something but I've just never seemed to get around to it. I think I've been missing a bit of "zing" recently. If you'll pardon the cliché, my get up and go got up and went. And it's probably too late tonight to try to get it back.

But I'm getting back into the habit.

A Fine Whine

Ouch! I don't know what I've done but my shoulder is killing me. Not literally, of course, but it's bloody sore. I guess I've pulled something in it somehow. I'll live.

Whatever it is, it can't be down to overexertion as I've had a fairly lazy day. Ibuprofen tomorrow, je pense. Although I can't spend too long wandering around as I have some Work work to do. It doesn't bother me really - I have nothing much better to do and typing is likely to aggravate my shoulder less than ironing. That's my story, anyway!

So I'm going to settle down to sleep and try to aim some good vibes the way of my pains. I know that an aching shoulder is small potatoes compared to what some people have to deal with but like anyone else I tend to focus on my own ills more than those of others. My bad. So enough of the whinging, for tonight at least.

A Small Brain Dump

Last night I slept really well. I was asleep at what you might describe as A Sensible Time and slept through until my alarm went off.

So what's different about tonight, I wonder? I've got a busy day tomorrow and will probably end up working for a fair bit of the weekend, even if I don't go into the office. That's ok too - it's not like I have anything else planned. I could use a sustained run of sleeping well, though. And now of course, I'm a little concerned about being able to get a bus tomorrow. I'd forgotten it was Good Friday. Damn. I can't afford a cab so if there isn't a bus I guess I'm walking.

There must be a way to check on bus times using my mobile. That'll be something to focus my mind in the morning.

I hope it's not raining when I wake, assuming I eventually sleep. Usually I can get a lift but not tomorrow morning. I don't mind - there's a good reason for it and it's not an unpleasant walk. Kind of reminds me of when I first started working there and how far I've come in a little under two years. So that's a good thing right?

I'm sure I'm worrying needlessly. I remember that there are extra buses on Monday morning so I'm sure there'll be something tomorrow. Tiredness doesn't help the anxiety, I guess, so it's time to try to find the path to dreamland again.

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.