Sorry there’s been no real live journal action, or indeed any real online presence of any description, recently. Life’s been very busy and I’ve not been coping with the quiet times-between all the busy-ness as well as I’d have liked. More regular updates will follow soon.
In the meantime, how are you all getting on with those competition CDs?
Not much really. :P
I learned that I still enjoy writing, rediscovered that I can be inspired to write more, and better, by a wide variety of people, and was reminded that I have to constantly watch my nasty (and incredibly funny) side so that I don’t become an arsehole. Now you may think it’s too late for that, in which case I would be gratified if you would insert the words “even more of” between the “become” and the “an”, and insert the words “than I already am” between “arsehole” and the fullstop and then go and
take a long walk off a short peer make yourselves a cup of tea.
But I believe I promised you “something new every day”, I’m not sure how I’ve lived up to that, but I hope it’s been at least interesting so far.
Anyway, my newly learned thing for yesterday would have to be:
That according to my co-youth-workers/helpers, it is vastly impractical to follow the good-practice of having at least two adults present in the room when taking the under-fours to the toilet.
A while ago the young lady in question and I were getting along quite well, developing a fairly close friendship but I didn’t make any move because I’d been told by a friend that she was after somebody else, and then we both got busy and it was summer and I got together with Sonni and she went abroad and moved house and we kinda lost touch and by the time we got back in touch I was single and she had a fella – the standard way these things tend to go.
A few nights back we happened to be in a room together with some friends for the evening and during the evening I saw her looking at me with what seemed to be a whimsical kind of “it would have been cool to be going out with you” look. Which cheered me up no end and left me feeling actually quite good about myself.
The reason I asked that tortuous question was that I wanted to find out if such a thing were remotely likely, or if I was completely getting the wrong signals because that kind of thing just does not happen. Now, thanks to your answers, I know that even if I was totally wrong in the way I read things, it’s not like it was a completely ridiculous thing to have thought and then told my friends about. I hope that makes some kind of sense.
There was The Big Hill which we had to walk up to get to the church where my dad worked, and in the winter when it snowed (and boy, did it snow!) The Big Hill was fantastic for sledging down and building giant snowmen – I still have a very over-exposed photo of me and my dad standing next to a snowman that towered above the pair of us (dad was six foot one back then).
There was The School Field – right next door to our house – every evening me and the boys (my fellow ten and eleven year-olds) would play football or cricket for as many hours as daylight, our parents or the school caretaker allowed.
There was the soft toy section in the church hall which made a fantastic makeshift wrestling arena – great fun for kids with lots of energy and a constant need to prove themselves in combat. There was the library where I’d work my way through Hardy Boys books in bundles of six.
There was the paper shop where on some mornings I would run three seperate paper rounds and still have time for a half hour nap before school (the day of my first paper round I woke up two hours too early and ended up watching some odd film about a count, revenge, mistaken identity and lots of swashbuckling until it was time to go).
There were the mornings we had to go and wake up Bob, proprietor of the aforementioned cornershop so he could let us in and we could deliver his papers.
There was our fantastic back garden. A world of adventure for me, my siblings and many of the local kids.
There were the water fights that involved all the kids in the street on the hot summer days. These centred mostly on our house, front garden and back, the hosepipe and pressurised plant spray used almost as much as jugs of water, water-bombs and water-pistols. Anything that could be used to make somebody else wetter than you was put to great effect.
There was the pile of old car tires in the back garden that made great towers/things to hide in/things to roll about/clamber over.
There was a vegetable patch where I remember we grew rhubarb, and had at least one attempt at growing potatoes, but the spuds got the blight which meant we had to leave the ground unspudded for three years just to get the disease out, there were beans and peas and sweet-peas (inedible, but pretty flowers) on bamboo frames. There was our garden-pond which we used to populate with frogs which we hunted in The Beck (a tiny stream which ran the other side of the fence at the bottom of The School Field all the way along to the bottom of the Big Hill.)
There was the Scout troop which taught me all sorts of things.
There were the Scout camps, the fire building, the rope tying, the death slides, the sharp knives, the singing of many songs, some of them not fit for publication which the leaders squashed as soon as they heard them.
There was the walking in the countryside, by the lakes, in the hills.
There are a lot of good memories of Shildon.
There are almost enough to convince me that it wasn’t a shitty place to live.
This evening, on the bus home from work, the lady with the metal in her face was listening to Pantera‘s Vulgar Display of Power album on her personal stereo. So, apparently, was everybody in the surrounding seats – maybe it was just me and my super-sensitive ears, but I doubt it.
Maybe that’s why the lady taking up three quarters of my seat as well as her own looked so miserable – it didn’t look like it was her kind of music. Of course, by the way things looked, she didn’t enjoy any kind of music – or anything else, for that matter, besides maybe the grim satisfaction of going home at the end of the end of the day and knowing, deep in her heart that she did some first rate Glowering-At-Random-People.
Maybe she was just fed up from having been stuck in traffic on her way to work (full time GARPing, no doubt) because of the security measures put in place to protect our noble
tyrant, I’ll try again: puppet despot, no that won’t do at all, how about: Prime Minister who is visiting the region for a conference over the next couple of days. Neither I nor my friends ever receive the kind of security that causes a city to grind to a halt.
Maybe that’s because we have provoked far fewer nut-jobs into thinking that killing us might be good for a bit of a laugh.
Maybe all that lady on the bus needed was a bit of a laugh and she might have shuffled up a little bit, but I doubt it.
That’s Valentine’s Day to you.
I realised the other day that I wasn’t really upset or bitter or anything really about February 14th any more – I kinda expected to be given past form, and had been planning a mini-campaign against the annual celebration of Eros. I was wrong. No matter how much it may have seemed like my nose was being rubbed in it in the past, the day still remains a chance/excuse for lovers to make more of a fuss than usual of their beloveds and the idea that it’s not something I can be involved in makes no difference to that.
In other news:
Yesterday was the day of learning that my pancake-making ability is similar to my ability to bowl – it takes a while for me to get into the swing of things and I still occasionally make a mess of things.
This evening I decided to go to the dancing despite not really wanting to (all I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for England). Despite there being nobody there who I knew (usually a prerequisite for me enjoying it) and that I still don’t have the confidence to ask anybody to dance (I can’t string two moves together – and I know I wouldn’t enjoy “leading” a more experienced dancer when I make more mistakes than a typist with no fingers) I had a great time. The lesson sections of the evening were good and for the bit in between I just sat there with my bottle of water and thought my odd thoughts. I’d made up my mind that if I didn’t have fun this week then I was stopping the whole thing and writing it off as a nice idea that didn’t come off. Based on tonight’s experience I’ll be going back for more for quite some time.
Ladies, have you ever looked at a friend who you maybe thought fancied you at one point but they never did anything about it, and thought “I wish he’d made a move back then, even though I’ve got a great bloke now.”?
Hey, it seems like there’s a lot of catching up to do.
Wednesday: I learned that I wasn’t going to be missing any of the librarian-dom course through the meetup since it had been cancelled last week due to a change over of lecturers. I also learned that leaving things like packing until after midnight isn’t always the clever way to go about things.
Thursday: I learned that there is some fantastic architecture, both ancient and modern, in Norwich, that the BBC has already released Series Three of Hitchhiker’s on CD.
Friday: I was taken to Camden Town and I learned that I’d changed a lot since the times when I would have spent vast amounts of money there. I also met two people face to face that I hadn’t met up with before and learned that they were even more fantastic in the flesh than in the virtual.
Saturday: I learned that there are cinemas which can afford to charge £11 for a ticket which operate not ten minutes away from “all you can eat for less than a fiver” Chinese Restaurants. Also that Wetherspoon’s supply lorries are not as reliable as they should be.
Sunday: I learned what the inside (and outside) of ejtheviking‘s flat looked that, that one of my favourite bands was playing support at a gig I couldn’t go to and that Dancing Barefoot is a book that makes me smile a lot.
Today: I learned that job number three would like to pay me for two days last week – by the time I’ve completed my period of employment I’ll be due two days’ holiday which they’ve said they’re willing to backdate. This is good news.
-I’m still not sleeping great, but hopefully that’ll settle down tonight – I’m still worn out after the meetup.
-I had a groovy dream this morning about somebody who’d been completely out of my mind for a week or so, left me waking up feeling positive about things in general.
-I discovered last week that I had put on less weight over the Christmas break than I thought, but I still need to lose at least a stone and a half (21lbs or 9.5kg).
-I will be working at least five days this week. Quite a shock to my system, I imagine.
-So, besides general meh-ness things is good.
I probably won’t get the chance to update until Monday night now – I’m out tomorrow night and catching a train down south early on Thursday morning.
I learned that blackbirdshaq does a terrible live journal impression of any number of the Sopranos. :P
And that working becomes very difficult after the eighth or ninth day in a row with not enough and very disturbed sleep.
And that it feels very strange to be thanked for walking somebody home when you were heading that way anyway.
And that it’s probably going to be a while before I can talk about the bullshit reasoning that goes on in my head to keep me down. I realise it’s there and that’s going to have to be enough for now.