Don’t look back in anger

It’s that time of the year when my mind slips itself off the lead and bounds along the snow-covered, hedgerow-lined fields of memories, like a mental three-year-old Dalmatian.

It pokes its nose in little tumps of snow; sniffing, sneezing and snorting, it teases and playfully worries things that aren’t there.

And things that are.

At the moment my mind is playing around in the field that I like to call 2009.

How’s it been for you?

I don’t know if I’m deluding myself but I think I’d classify 2009 as ‘Not Too Bad Really’.

And yet straight away I’m on the back foot, defending my performance with a concession that the planned 2009 Eventing season didn’t occur; Vin developed headshaking and that immediately killed off all prospects of competing.

And I’ll defend again with the statement that after six months of looking, I found Tom and he seems to be Perfect In Every Way (to quote Mary Poppins).

Except he isn’t, because I’m paying £1,000 to have an 8′-fenced paddock built for him.

But that’s horses, eh? Except this puts the balance in to the debit side of things.

But on the plus side of the overall balance sheet, I’ve been very busy, both in my ‘day’ job and in the world of my various writing projects (reviewer, feature-writer, novelist and short-storyist).

And yes, I know being very busy is brilliant, but there exists, in my head at least, a general air of dissatisfaction in this field. There’s a feeling that I could have done everything so much better, with a more qualitative attention to detail, if only I’d tried.

Or had the time. And thus begins the vicious circle…

[pause]

The music side of things has gone brilliantly.

I almost grudgingly concede this, as if I am reluctant to set the thought free because the counterbalancing thought might be too much in the negative.

But really, there isn’t a counterbalancing thought. My own guitar playing has been scant, but that was never really on the radar anyway.

And all things Podcasting have been excellent, the growth of our audience has been tremendous.

And the web statistics indicate that the redesigned website is popular with feed-readers and googlers, and besides – and indeed over-ridingly – the Podcast is fun to produce.

Recording it is never a chore and I usually start feeling a growing sense of anticipation about three days before Studio Day. It’s fun, it’s a regular weekly event and I love doing it.

And, of course, as a result of producing the Podcast we have been fortunate enough to listen to some excellent musicians – and doubly fortunate to be able to go on and number some of these very talented individuals as friends.

No, there’s nothing in the debit column on this one.

So that’s music and horses and work and writing.

[another pause]

Family, at first glance, looks like it might be all debit and no credit, but that isn’t how I see it.

There have been two cataclysmic events in this aspect of my life this year. Each shook my self-confidence and erased the ability to believe in myself to the point where, for a while, I didn’t really have a life, I was just going through a series of daily processes and trying to come out the other end unscathed.

The earth-shattering nature of these events isn’t for public discussion, but there was a while, back in 2009, when I lost my rudder and just drifted along, buffeted by the big stormy waves.

But now the rudder is back on and the big stormy waves have abated and although things are a little more choppy than they used to be, at least the water now more closely resembles a boating pond and not a Force 9 in the South Atlantic.

Generally I feel positive about family; the dysfunctional relationship that separates my siblings and me is a source of amusement and not a concern. I was surprised that one of my brothers popped up and left a comment, but when I pinged the email address he’d left and found it to be a dead one, my surprise turned to much laughing out loud.

The Soph and me family feels good and I am optimistic for the future.

And I’m comfortable with my relationship with Soph’s family, though heaven knows what they reckon to me.

So if I had to sum up the whole family thing under one heading it would probably be on the positive side of ‘Meh’.

Which makes me wonder why I’ve spent so much time, this morning, thinking about the past. The deep distant past.

I blame Christmas.

There’s something about this ‘festive’ season that seems to encourage this free-ranging introverted retrospective; the bonkers Dalmatian looning around snowy fields metaphor is a good one. Hang on to it.

I might use it again next year.

2010 promises so much potential; horses, music, writing, family. But I’ve stopped banking on future events. What will be will be.

And other clichés.

Really not

I’m trying to stay away from whining like a horrid whining thing.

But sometimes it’s difficult, you know?

Today’s been a crap day. Not the crappiest of crap days, but the readout on the crapometer is currently displaying 7.2 out of 10.

I sometimes wonder if I’m cut out to be a family guy.

You know there are some people (men and women; this is an equal ops moaning zone) who are not cut out to have a relationship – and, indeed, can’t handle them?

I’m starting to ask myself if I’m in the same boat – but instead of relationships, read ‘families’.

Anyway, as I said, I’m trying to stay away from whining.

So Vin came in lame from the field today. No cuts, puncture wounds or obvious hot spots and the trouble with displaying lameness but not showing how what or where is that without knowing what’s up, there’s nothing to treat!

I’ll have a good look at him tomorrow, whilst cursing him for doing whatever the hell it is that he’s done that will probably cause me to have to get the vet out on a Sunday, with Sunday call-out charges being so large that they’re measured on an interplanetary scale.

I hate kids; have I mentioned this?

No, I really really hate them.

Not all children, of course; that would just be awful of me.

I hate the little runts that don’t know how to behave and who blatantly ignore the ineffectual parenting of their ineffectual parents.

I guess I’m not terribly keen on the parents of said children either. Selfish bastards. Quite content to let little Tarquin or whatever run riot in a public place because they – the ineffectual parents – have learned to tune Tarquin’s misdemeanours out of sight (and therefore out of mind), whilst the rest of us poor saps have to endure the little shits ever-increasing boundary-pushing until things get so bad that we reach the point where we, the innocent victim of Tarquin’s behaviour, actually pick the little runt up and give it such a slap that it’s self-determined/built boundaries all collapse because one – one – person stood up to the little thug.

Except we don’t, do we? Because we’re nice people and we have boundaries of our own and we know what is acceptable even if Tarquin and his ineffective parents apparently don’t.

This, in case you missed the sponsor’s message which was briefly flashed up in a subliminal way earlier in the text, is a general outpouring.

It’s not a rant about any one thing, it’s just the final resting place for the large puddle of bile that has settled in my heart today because, I seem to have found, I am a generally bile-filled, and pretty horrible kind of person these days.

I’m tired.

I have no idea why but I seem to be hopping between states of barely awake to fast asleep and back again.

Apart from riding two horses a day, six days a week I’m not doing any other demanding physical activities. I’m writing loads but that’s barely physical, is it?

And yet I’m tired.

But not mentally, just physically.

Even when I’m falling asleep I can sit here and watch an episode of 24 and kill the horribly lazy writers to death for making so many shockingly awful – yet childish – mistakes.

So I’m up to par mentally – but I will concede that 24 is a particularly easy target (also a very rewarding one!) – and feel close to the top of my thinking/writing game.

My writing time – and indeed riding time – is going to get hammered from next week, as I slip back in to a piece of (my other kind of) work which will detain me five days a week in west London.

And I’m beginning to wonder if I get some kind of SAD. Or maybe I’m just a miserable bugger.

Which would be best, I wonder? To be diagnosed as suffering from SAD or to be SAD-free but to be forever labelled as a cantankerous git?

See?

And yes I am aware that SAD-sufferers aren’t necessarily grumpy, but that seems to be the only options on my choices list right now.

Bollocks, just realised that this has become the whiny post I didn’t want it to be. What an arse.

Speaking of arses.

Is there anyone else out there who was made ill to the point of almost actually vomiting, by Tony Blair’s statement that he would have made up other reasons (sorry, ‘pursued other arguments’) to invade Iraq if his tissue of lies about WMD hadn’t motivated the brainless/spineless frogspawn in the House of Commons to side with him and vote to kill hundreds of thousands of Iraqi civilians and over a hundred British servicemen?

Physically ill.

And disgusted to be a member of the same species as the God-Complex-Wearer-In-Chief.

Now there’s a man who understands the true nature of democracy.

Oh. But wait. No he doesn’t.

I’m all for sending the little shit straight over to The Hague for his War Crimes trial right now, anyone else of the same position?

iHola España!

So.

This bright and breezy bonk bank holiday weekend I am away to sunny Spain to spend some quality time with Daughter. Or perhaps I should say Niña? Or even Hija?

Anyway.

I’m sure she’ll find many ways of keeping me occupied – after all, I know nothing apparently, whilst she knows everything there is to know in the universe.

It must be a large cross for her to bear, being so young and so knowledgeable. I feel quite sorry for her; having to lug her know-nothing Padre around the distrito de Granada whilst taking the pee out of him and loving him in equal measures must be quite a task!

Note to self:  don’t mention the Go-Karting we did a few months ago

I am, it must be said, really looking forward to seeing her but at the same time, to be honest, less than enthusiastic about going. Now there’s a tricky situation!

For strictly personal, non-daughter-related reasons, obv. I’ll get over it, I guess. Probably.

In other news…

• I finished work today. My heart lifts and is borne around the room with its gossamer wings supported by the breeze of a joy indescribable. No more 04.45 alarms!
• I plan on filling as much of my spare time as possible by sleeping. How can this be bad?
• We are going to a gig in Witney tonight
• My horsebox (10t Ford Cargo) is being fitted with a new starter motor tomorrow
• We are going to a gig in Oxford next Thursday. Yes that’s right, I am flying back from Spain early, just to go to a gig!
• We have a night at the theatre in London village booked for the week after next, and a night at a nice hotel
• We are probably going to Italy the week after that
• We are talking about having a weekend in Stockholm in November. To go to the ballet, no less!
• I had a blindingly good idea for a novel in a meeting yesterday

I’m quite excited about all of these things, but the new novel prospect sets my pulse racing and makes me breathe a little quicker. It’s amazing what travelling on the Underground does to the imagination.

I’m really not sure that I’m capable of carrying it off, I think it’s too big and a much too mature and intricate piece of writing for me to deliver but it’s my bloody idea so I’m going to give it a go.

So you see, although I’ve been very quiet lately, there are things going on.

Now then, I need to plan the playlist for this weekend’s podcast. It’s going to be radical, man. And no, that’s not a euphemism for ‘I haven’t done it yet’.

Honest!

Things Brought into My Life….

…which I want to pass on to you.

I have been receiving some incredibly considerate emails lately. Most are simply words of encouragement or quick reality checks, some set forth life lessons, while others are solid attacks on the enemy, as if it were shared. All to get me through the next little bit. I think you need all of these at various points along the way, occasionally all in one day.

I have also been given some lovely things from people who get to see me in real life (the lucky few!). I wanted to pass these on, not least because I have noticed a hefty measure of burnout in blogland at the moment – in both hemispheres. Hoping they will help a little.

Aspire Style tea

This exact mug and Happiness tea were given to me by a friend, Emily. Pretend to warm your hands on it and take a sip. It’s a very large mug:

Cath Kidston mug

The boyfriend set me up with the best, chunky (organic) vegetable soup to watch a handful of TED talks. (If you’re not all over these by now, sort it out!). Here is one we watched given by (pop) philosophy essayist Alain de Botton, on a kinder, gentler philosophy of success. Some twitchy eye moments particularly when he makes his conclusions, but certainly some helpful tools to manage the Sunday (status anxiety) blues. (The comments are also worth a browse).

We also watched some oldies. Probably the most thought-provoking of this oldies lot (and certainly the most kooky) was Amy Tan’s talk, Creativity:

And, finally, The Journey, a poem by Mary Oliver (not easy to find without a photograph of a sunset or waterfall), sent to me by a friend whose pretty name is so distinctive that I can’t name her here:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Thanks to my supporters and as the Brits say: Chin up, tigers!

Hiiiiiiiiii…. (fake smile)

How are you?

Mwah, mwah.

It’s been simply ages darling. You look gorgeous as usual.

Was it really two weeks ago when I sat down and chattered in to this keyboard?

(No it wasn’t, get on with it, Ed)

So my contract is due to end very soon and I’m planning a trip or few.

The thinking is currently that in very early September, once the Fiesta season in the crazy Spanish village of Bérchules has finished (they’re celebrating New Year right now – and that party lasts 24/7 and all week long), I should duck over to Spain to spend some quality time with Daughter.

Then back home for a day or two, pick up Soph and head off to Italy for a few battery-recharging days because we could both do with a little quality time together.

Then come back and do a short refresher course – it’s been years since I was on a motorbike – just to, you know, keep my hand in.

And then start scouting around for the next contract.

Whatcha fink?

Perils of Marrying a Student

image

On Skype (with camera) last night.

Sister-in-Law: Go and get my new BMW.

My brother shakes his head, ducks off and then comes back holding a large, rather stylish shopping trolley.

Brother: It’s for grannies.

Sister-in-Law: When I bought this, your brother immediately asked how much it was. I said, ‘Some women ask for a BMW and actually get one. It’s my BMW.’