2 days in to the freedom of no more cigarette dependance and I’m feeling really good about the process so far. Of course today is the first day back at work which brings a whole new range of associations and other challenges to the fore but I’m confident that these little niggles won’t pose any kind of problem.
Category Archives: Introspection
Calming down
Friday I was angry.
No real reason for it, just a combination of a stressful few days with no real time to recharge the batteries, a couple of minor annoyances and crappy weather combined to produce a very grumpy state of mind.
I’ve learned to recognise these moments, these moods for what they are; pointless reactions to factors beyond my control and have a routine in place for managing them until such time as I can genuinely relax and reset.
Friday lunch time I went for a walk. I walked hard, fast, and made an effort to pick out the elements in the world that would raise a smile: the little girl playing with her teddy bear whilst her mum pushed her up the high street, the oh so serious businessman in a very large, black 4×4 with a stuffed gorilla sitting on the dashboard, the elderly couple braving the drizzle to eat al fresco, laughing as they poured each other wine.
I wasn’t walking aimlessly. My goal was the same as it always is when feeling this way.
I walked straight into the local bookshop.
And immediately felt calmer, less angry and less likely to tear the head of the next person who did anything to aggrieve me.
There’s something about the smell.
Lest we forget
Lest we forget
A post on the delightfully named blog of a Muddling Along Mummy caused me to pause this afternoon.
As is my own tradition, I picked up my poppy pin from the Legion stand in St. Helier yesterday and spent a pleasant couple of minutes catching up with the volunteers, one of whom actively served in Iraq first time around and departed with my symbol of support pinned firmly to my jacket.
Along with Muddling Mummy, I’ve noticed that this year there seems to be a distinct lack of poppies on display on the lapels of the nation (well the small portion that I get to see in my lunch break) and really can’t fathom why this would be.
Sure, we’re all busier now and yes the great wars of yesteryear are even further behind us (sadly the last of those to remember the Second World War are likely to be dying out within the next 10 years) but the media is filled with reports of our forces facing very real and very current peril overseas. Stories of the solemn marches though Wooton Bassett adorn the inner pages and covers of our newspapers and TV adverts do their best to penetrate the layers of cynicism and disinterest that surround post war welfare for soldiers.
As a child and a Boy Scout (probably just Scout now … thanks PC madness) Remembrance Sunday meant an actual parade, being part of the day alongside representatives from all the armed forces as well as the various cadet groups, turned out in our smartest in the freezing cold November weather to pay our respects to those who had fought, and died for our country.
As a man my respect became less overt, a paper poppy or pin worn with quiet thanks.
I don’t wear my poppy with pride per se. I don’t support a lot of the things the armed forces do or those who make the decisions to deploy them but I am thankful for those men and women who are willing to sacrifice their everything for my freedom.
The recent wars (Iraq, Afghanistan, Iraq again) have not had the direct levels of influence on life at home that the great wars wielded and perhaps the memories of what the armed forces can be called to protect are fading. Oil, opium and terrorism are much less tangible threats than lack of food or liberty but at the core of remembrance day is not what is currently being fought for. Rather its is focussed on knowing that our armed forces are there to do whatever is necessary to preserve our way of life and that those that went before held these values just as highly.
For me a poppy is not about pride in the army and it’s certainly not about encouraging conflict or massive ‘defence’ budgets. It’s about remembering that, until mankind evolves to a level where war is no longer needed, there will always be those who lay down their lives for the rest of us. Ordinary people like my grandfather who worked as an aircraft engineer in WWII, like my great-uncle who fought in the European theatre and was evacuated from Dunkirk, like my friends who’ve thankfully returned from Iraq and Afghanistan and for all those who are never going to make it home.
For them I wear my poppy and would encourage all of us to do the same. Their sacrifice was made without condition and we all benefit from it – £1 and a small paper flower is the least we can do to show our thanks and respect.
- They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
- Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
- They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
- They fell with their faces to the foe.
- They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
- Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
- At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
- We will remember them
The right tools for the job
The GGF (technically now just the GF) and I have completed our 3rd house move in 3 years and, as ever with a move we found that our current complement of furniture was insufficient to store all of our stuff.
Fortunately, a quick trip to B&Q yielded results in the form of a Danish flat pack wardrobe which matches some of the other bits we have in the bedroom. As an added bonus it was reduced from £60 to £30 so we snapped it up, manhandled it to the car and promptly stashed it in the garage pending assembly at a later date.
A couple of days later when the cottage was starting to resemble a place that people actually live in rather than a cardboard box testing factory the GF and I lugged the wardrobe to the top of the stairs and, in keeping with our desire to stay together, happy and free of a murder conviction, she headed downstairs to sort the kitchen whilst I opened the box and settled in for an hour or so of building.
1 score and ten
Ever since I can remember I’ve used patterns and nearest approximation in my mental arithmetic.
8 * 9? Start from 8*10 and lose an 8.
I’ve always enjoyed finding quick routes to calculate the results of all sorts of problems. I suppose I mention this because my age has always been one of the easiest things to work out and therefore project.
I was born in 1980 and from as far back as I can remember I have used this as a basis to calculate my own age.
1990 meant I was 10
1994 I read Arthur C Clarke’s 2001 and I knew that I would be 21 when the events therein came to pass (or not)
1998 saw me reach legal drinking age
2001 graduated and an adult of 21
2010?
July 2010 is upon us which can only mean that I’ve now left another decade behind me. My 20′s were of mixed fare, some of the events of the past 10 years I will still consider to be the worst in my life to date. Others are amongst the best. I’ve loved, lost, kept, cried, laughed, danced, worked, played, made some really poor decisions and taken some amazingly fruitful risks.
I’ve made my way through the professional world and over the course of 6 jobs have built a skill set and career that lacks only the paper to prove I’ve done it.
I’ve bobbed through my personal life in mostly good form, making new friends and losing old ones.
I would count myself as lucky in that, over the space of 10 years, I have yet to be directly affected by the kind of crisis that the world has cruelly cast over some of the people I know.
I’ve learned to drive, bought my first & second cars, travelled across Europe and made a new home for myself in a less than appealing location.
It seems fitting that I should start this new record, a personal journal of thoughts and memories, 10 years after I started my first online home. I’ve worked on plenty of websites in that time, for others clearly defined by contract and for audiences less tangible, defined only by statistics and the occasional comment.
But this site? Well as the URL suggests, this site is just for me.
I’ve enjoyed the last 10 years, and the 20 before that. This next period, conveniently defined by the procession of a blue green rock that has seen more of my lifetimes than I care to imagine, well this next 10 years look like being better still.
My third decade; older (definitely), wiser (hopefully) and happier …
well …
time will tell.
