Third of a Year

It's been a long time since I was here. I bet some of you had started wondering whether you'd ever see me re-appear. Oh ye of little faith.

February to June. Four months. More than four months now, actually. It's been a four months in which remarkable things have happened. I've been rained on and shined on. People I knew and loved have passed away, leaving the world a poorer place. I've had another birthday and am now older than I ever really expected to be.

I've seen places that I'd only ever heard about before. I no more expected to have stood in front of the Brandenburg Gate, and touched the remains of the Berlin Wall, than I had to have seen the bottom of Africa! Strange days indeed.

Although both Cape Town and Berlin are wonderful places to see, I had a weekend trip to a town that I didn't expect to see again so soon. Stepping off the train that day set my nerves a-jangling and I'm not sure that I could have done it at all, if not for the steadfast figure at my side. Despite the sad circumstances, it turned into a joy to see so many old friends again and to be able to introduce them to my Pretty Lady.

Who knows what the rest of 2012 might bring? Not I. It's like to be any other year you could name - laughter and tears, good things and bad. Hopefully the laughter and the good things will outnumber the tears and the bad.

Introspection

I need to know myself better.

Sometimes I get surges of sadness, melancholy, "growliness", call it what you will. I'm not always even aware of them and it takes someone else to point out the sudden change. I have no idea, sometimes, where these come from, from what twisted root they've sprung. All I know is that I don't want these things growing in my garden.

They unsettle me and, occasionally, those close to me. Tonight, I don't relish turning out the light.

The Day Of Rest

I compared a migraine to a hangover today. The more I think about it the better I think that the comparison is.

Imagine the worst hangover you ever had. Every light is too bright. Every sound is too loud. You're nauseous, dizzy and you hurt everywhere! Even resting your head on a pillow hurts so much you can't keep it in the same position for long. Oh, but did I mention that every move you make is a living hell?

That was my Sunday. And not the hangover option.

The Longest Month

Hmmm. I understand that the longest January on record lasted for 836 days. This one only seems to have gone for for about 600 so far, so it has a ways to go yet to hit the record books but it's a formidable attempt all the same.

I'm referring to the gap between paydays here, of course. It's damned decent of The Company That Pays Me to put my salary in my account a week early at Christmas but it does mean that instead of going from the 28th to the 28th, I find myself having to negotiate five weeks with only four weeks worth of moolah. And this with various festivities thrown in for good measure.

So I'm skinty-poo, as Billy Connolly once said. So much so that even my Humour Account is overdrawn and the first line of this is a piece of shameless plagiarism. Mind you, it was nicked from Twitter so fair game, eh? I never bought into Twitter. I didn't "get it", if you will. Therefore anything anything I steal from there counts as being picked up "somewhere on the internet" and as such isn't covered by any kind of copyright legislation.

Should I make it a Resolution to blog more often? The pull is starting up again (I know: I'll go blind!) so I may be here rather more often than I have been. especially late at night when I'm trying to fight off a craving for chocolate that I don't have. If the local corner shop were open 24 hours, I'm sure they'd do a roaring trade in chocolate and soft drinks. Probably in rolling papers too, considering I live in Student Central.

Or what about chocolate vending machines like bank ATMs? Incidentally, has anyone else ever noticed that the word "chocolate" is one of those that it's impossible to type correctly without serious concentration? There are several of those - ordinary, run-of the-mill words that just don't flow comfortably from a computer keyboard. "Thanks" is one for me. It always seems to come out as "thnaks" first time. Five letters but far from simple.

Where was I? Oh yes, January. Thnaks for reminding me. As the weekend falls where it does (crash!) I may well find funds available to me next Friday. Besides treating myself to something and paying bills, I shall try to squirrel a little extra away in hopes of getting some time away with my Pretty Lady later in the year. And, of course, there's the little matter of a Post-Peak Party to attend!

Merry Christmas

I had to look to see when I last posted something here. Was it really October? 

Since I was last here I've done things that I never dreamed I'd do. I mean, there was no way I was ever going to be throwing stones off the tip of Africa, right? Gazing out across the ocean, knowing the next landfall would be Antarctica. Crazy. Gazing out of the window of a plane at the lights of the Mediterranean below, crossing the Equator, these are all things that "other people" do.

Or going back to Edinburgh for the first time in probably 35 years. Wandering around the streets with my Lady and visiting the castle. Sitting in a 700-year old chapel and snuggling together against the wind. It's been a helluva year.

It's also the first Christmas Day for three years that I haven't been at work. That wasn't as bad as you might think. Working on Christmas Day draws everyone there together in the spirit of the day and produces a whole "last day of term" vibe. There are worse ways to spend one's Christmas Day.

I'm back to work tomorrow. Extended Christmas breaks are still definitely something that other people have. I couldn't over-indulge today even if I had the requisite in the house. That's okay too. I'll have to check later but I think I'm on late-cover tomorrow which means starting at 11 in the morning. There's even a Sunday bus service running so I don't have get up at stupid o'clock.

I decided to forgo the pleasure of a Christmas breakfast - I had planned on bacon sarnies but the bread was far too dry for that. No matter. The coffee was hot and sweet and it's got me through til now. It may be time to go and prepare that most traditional of Christmas Dinners - steak and wedges. You wouldn't grudge me a glass of wine with it, would you?

The Smart Thing

It's turned cold. Someone said today "Ahhh, summer's here at last!" But he was wrong. It wasn't raining. It was about half an hour later though, so I suppose that kind of negates my argument.

It seems silly to describe the night as dark. By definition, it's not the brightest period of a 24 hour. It's a very dark night tonight, though.

Thought I ought to check in before I curl up. Haven't been here for a while. Whatever strength and whatever words I've had have been going into work. I've had some kind of low-grade bug and, stupidly, had a 'Flu jab before I was properly over it.

This means the smartest thing is to snuggle up in the warm and get some sleep.

Gone.

Cravings

It's rained pretty much constantly for the last two days here. It's funny to think that the UK is sweltering in a heatwave with blazing sunshine while I'm enjoying weather that's wet and about 15^o. They can keep it, to be honest. I'd far rather it was like this. My Pretty Lady rightly commented once that Ireland shows herself better in the mist and rain than she does in bright sunlight.

Despite the rain I had to go and do some shopping today. Only one bag's worth, though as I need to keep one hand for holding my brolly!

Maybe the rain seeped into my head and the guys in the office there were too busy baling out flood water to make useful suggestions. Whatever, I find myself sat here at really-far-too-late o'clock craving something sweet.

I will not walk to Tesco at this time of night to buy chocolate. I will not walk to Tesco at this time of night to buy chocolate. I will not walk to Tesco at this time of night to buy chocolate. I will not walk to Tesco at this time of night to buy chocolate.

Probably.

Late

I won't lie to you (that needs to be said in a Tipperary accent) it's been a hard couple of days. There's been a cranking up of pressure, both professionally and personally.

I don't propose to go into any great detail about either, just acknowledging both here will help a little. The problem is, of course, other people. If they would just leave me/us alone to get on with life then everything would be fine. Decisions that needed to be made would be made at the right time and I/we would deal with the consequences because I/we had chosen a moment when it was right to do so.

Blah! And Meh! And possible other words ending in "h", too. I don't have a problem with being in situations where my two choices are to be either be wrong or to be incorrect, what bugs me is knowing that I'm in that position because of other people putting their noses where they are neither needed nor wanted.

And now I'm going to try sleeping. That ought to be fun.

Quite Quiet

I'm typing this in a Google Chrome browser. I got bored and thought I'd try it again. It's ok. Still prefer Firefox.

It's been a strange day. I was up very early to watch rugby online and, surprisingly, haven't dozed during the day. I've done a fair bit of housework, including washing the kitchen floor and the doormats, in the hope that I won't be treading mud in from the yard again.

It's bugging me a little that I'm having to type this in raw html to get it to format the way that I want. That alone, is probably enough to get me to stay with Firefox as my default browser. You know what it's like though - I have several tabs open with stuff happening in all of them and can't be arsed to fire up Firefox just to blog.

I should probably explain that I usually type these in a Firefox extension called Scribefire. There is a Chrome version but it spectacularly fails to publish anything! The composer window of the Blogger website doesn't indent my paragraphs unless I type in the coding myself. Pain. Oh well.

The plan for tomorrow is another early start to watch rugby and then probably get some "work work" done. I have a big launch to manage next week and the more stuff I can get done ahead of time the better. I shan't be knocking myself out with it but might well poke at it on and off during the day. Or I might not. We'll have to see.

The house was very quiet last night and today, no matter how busy I kept myself. I had the pleasure of my pretty lady's company, unexpectedly, for Wednesday and Thursday nights. My eyes like it when the last thing they see at night is her, and the first thing in the morning too. One day, every day will begin and end that way.

When I say it's been quiet, I include my neighbours in that. I have a house full of students next door, and one of the houses behind my yard is full of them too. On Tuesday night both houses hosted parties - it's Fresher's Week. I have no problem with parties, especially as they both finished well before midnight. I do have a problem however with either my neighbours or their guests standing on the flat roof of their kitchen, pissing off the end of it. I don't think they realise that their landlord is mine too. If it happens again I might have to have a quick word with him. Or just throw stuff at them!

To draw a quiet evening to an end it's an Ovaltine, I think. My God, how rock & roll am I?

Ten Years Gone

I thought it was a joke in poor taste when first I heard. "Did you hear two planes have flown into the World Trade Centre?" Like "Did you hear about the horse that walked into a bar?" That kind of thing. 

It wasn't until I got back to the house and put the news on that I realised what had happened.

All this time later it still hardly seems possible. The pictures still exert a grim fascination and retain their power to shock.

On this day of remembrance, peace and love to you all.

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.