Well well, it's the eve of a new year again and here I am, dosed up on decongestants and paracetamol and enjoying that hour and a half respite from man-flu that they provide. Meh.
This past week has been a rather relaxed affair, as our children have been walloped off their feet with it too. We've nursed them as they sweltered quietly on their couches. Whilst we've fretted that they're ill, I'll admit to enjoying the peace a little, knowing that pretty soon I'd come down with it too.
Miche so far, has avoided this dreadful lurgy.
So, we've had a take out curry tonight to mark the occasion, which tasted like spicy snot, and a bottle of wine which I'm led to believe had quite a nose to it.
Of course, I'm not one for omens and portents, so this inauspicious start to 2008 has no significance. We will recover. Neither am I one for resolutions. If there's a time for sober reflection and serious commitment to change, then new year's eve is hardly the occasion for it frankly.
No, I like to look back over the past year and imagine how we were at the last new year. What I see pleases me - we're still all together for a start. Our kids have grown a little in height and massively in their personalities and abilities.
Miche is as beautiful now as she was back then, and I love her just the same. Which is good enough for me.
We change and grow with the years, though without our pasts what are we? In these uncertain times, and with that existential anxiety that middle age seems to bring, I'm all for a bit of stability.
So here's to the new year. May it be full of challenges, as each one tends to be, but I hope nothing changes too much. Things are nice enough as they are thankoyouverymuch.
Happy New Year.
Monday, 31 December 2007
Friday, 21 December 2007
Back from the brink
Apologies for the hiatus. Let me explain.
It's been somewhat of a mental week.
Meg ran into our bedroom at 2:30 Tuesday morning to tell us she had a sore tummy. Seconds later she barfed all over our bed, the floor and bedside cabinet. Miche got it in her hair. Which was nice.
Since then Meg has sweltered on the couch, refusing all but minute sips of water. Now, she's a lithe creature in the best of circumstances so after only three days fasting, her ribs are showing. Thankfully she rediscovered her appetite with a vengeance this morning.
Wednesday morning circa 1:30, Dom discovered that his Cardia isn't yet as robust as his sister's and he yawned in technicolour over the landing on his way to our bedside. I nursed my son throughout the night so that Miche could sleep the night before her birthday.
Work has been a blurry, bleary eyed carousel of slipping deadlines and half baked decisions. And of course, there have been Christmas preparations to make, so any spare brain cycles have been conserved by watching TV.
Today however, I woke up fresh from eight solid hours kip, our children are clamouring for calories and the office closes at 12pm for our annual Christmas knees-up.
I shall return home when I start to believe I'm a good dancer.
It's been somewhat of a mental week.
Meg ran into our bedroom at 2:30 Tuesday morning to tell us she had a sore tummy. Seconds later she barfed all over our bed, the floor and bedside cabinet. Miche got it in her hair. Which was nice.
Since then Meg has sweltered on the couch, refusing all but minute sips of water. Now, she's a lithe creature in the best of circumstances so after only three days fasting, her ribs are showing. Thankfully she rediscovered her appetite with a vengeance this morning.
Wednesday morning circa 1:30, Dom discovered that his Cardia isn't yet as robust as his sister's and he yawned in technicolour over the landing on his way to our bedside. I nursed my son throughout the night so that Miche could sleep the night before her birthday.
Work has been a blurry, bleary eyed carousel of slipping deadlines and half baked decisions. And of course, there have been Christmas preparations to make, so any spare brain cycles have been conserved by watching TV.
Today however, I woke up fresh from eight solid hours kip, our children are clamouring for calories and the office closes at 12pm for our annual Christmas knees-up.
I shall return home when I start to believe I'm a good dancer.
Friday, 14 December 2007
Wee!
Just so you know, we took delivery of the last remaining Wii console in the UK this morning. Not that I'm bragging or anything.
Neither am I ashamed of buying into the latest consumer craze, as we're all going to have a wii of a time playing with it on Christmas day.
Ner ner ne ner ner.
Neither am I ashamed of buying into the latest consumer craze, as we're all going to have a wii of a time playing with it on Christmas day.
Ner ner ne ner ner.
Thursday, 13 December 2007
Santa, is that you?
As I walked through the church yard this evening, on my way to the local boozer for the village lads Xmas get together, the bell ringers were rehearsing. The ground crunched underfoot and my way was lit by the festive lights on the village green trees.
This is how it looked and sounded;
Religion aside, there's nothing better than medieval church bells on a frosty night to get the Christmas spirits flowing.
We've had a few pints of the best Guinness in the village before I had to leave the lads as they went to the Indian. Unfortunately I'm interviewing for a key post tomorrow so had to be boring and come home.
On the way back the ground was slippery underfoot. The hardening ice twinkled under the street lights like tinsel. I didn't pass a soul until the last corner when an old man, somewhat overweight and with a large white beard passed me.
He gave me a big smile and the standard northern greeting of "Alreet?"
And so I feel "christmassy".
Our tree is up, I bought the last of Miche's presents earlier today and our online grocery shop has been ordered...
I wish a happy secular midwinter celebration to one and all!
This is how it looked and sounded;
Religion aside, there's nothing better than medieval church bells on a frosty night to get the Christmas spirits flowing.
We've had a few pints of the best Guinness in the village before I had to leave the lads as they went to the Indian. Unfortunately I'm interviewing for a key post tomorrow so had to be boring and come home.
On the way back the ground was slippery underfoot. The hardening ice twinkled under the street lights like tinsel. I didn't pass a soul until the last corner when an old man, somewhat overweight and with a large white beard passed me.
He gave me a big smile and the standard northern greeting of "Alreet?"
And so I feel "christmassy".
Our tree is up, I bought the last of Miche's presents earlier today and our online grocery shop has been ordered...
I wish a happy secular midwinter celebration to one and all!
Wednesday, 12 December 2007
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
A love story
Murph left my first comment on Sans God on the 1st December 2006. His question still reverberates in my head today.
What is consciousness?
Of course, neither of us have come close to answering this question. However, I'd like to think that in debating this and other things, we've become friends. Or as our wives describe us - 'pen pals'. See, Murph lived in Ohio until today and as you know I live in Northumberland, UK.
I met Murph at the same time that he and Holly were enjoying the full on, poetic rush of new love. A love that they were gracious enough to share with the entire world via their blogs - The Candy Store and What the Hell is a Blog. These ephemeral creations were instrumental in them meeting in the first place, as their relationship (as far as I can gather) was borne over the Internet tubes. Which was a good thing, as Holly lives in Canada.
They married on the 10th January 2007.
And now, Murph & Holly are having a baby! Robert Declan Murphy to be precise.
You may not know of the struggle Murph has endured over the past year to secure Canadian residence so that they can be a family together. Suffice to say, it's been a trial and a half. As of today, all the forms have been signed, consulates have been informed, tickets have been bought and Murph is in transit as we speak.
I wish you all the best Holly & Murph & Declan!
What is consciousness?
Of course, neither of us have come close to answering this question. However, I'd like to think that in debating this and other things, we've become friends. Or as our wives describe us - 'pen pals'. See, Murph lived in Ohio until today and as you know I live in Northumberland, UK.
I met Murph at the same time that he and Holly were enjoying the full on, poetic rush of new love. A love that they were gracious enough to share with the entire world via their blogs - The Candy Store and What the Hell is a Blog. These ephemeral creations were instrumental in them meeting in the first place, as their relationship (as far as I can gather) was borne over the Internet tubes. Which was a good thing, as Holly lives in Canada.
They married on the 10th January 2007.
And now, Murph & Holly are having a baby! Robert Declan Murphy to be precise.
You may not know of the struggle Murph has endured over the past year to secure Canadian residence so that they can be a family together. Suffice to say, it's been a trial and a half. As of today, all the forms have been signed, consulates have been informed, tickets have been bought and Murph is in transit as we speak.
I wish you all the best Holly & Murph & Declan!
Tartan Paint
I came across a glassy eyed, slack jawed student yesterday as she poured over our policies on our intranet. She looked somewhat bemused.
“Are you OK?” I asked, “Anything I can help with?”
“Is it important to have a whistleblowing policy?” She asked me.
“Yes, it’s vital we protect service users from…”
“Ahh yeah, the noise will upset them I bet.”
“Sorry?”
“Well, you know, the whistles might scare them.”
It was my turn to get glassy eyed and slack jawed.
“Erm, have you read the policy?”
“No, not yet, but I will – it looks really interesting.”
Your life may be in their hands one day…
“Are you OK?” I asked, “Anything I can help with?”
“Is it important to have a whistleblowing policy?” She asked me.
“Yes, it’s vital we protect service users from…”
“Ahh yeah, the noise will upset them I bet.”
“Sorry?”
“Well, you know, the whistles might scare them.”
It was my turn to get glassy eyed and slack jawed.
“Erm, have you read the policy?”
“No, not yet, but I will – it looks really interesting.”
Your life may be in their hands one day…
Friday, 7 December 2007
Buy one soul, get one free
Perhaps Pope (eyes of a murderer) Benedict used to sell carpets. Imagine for a moment, Benedict in a cheap tv ad will you;"Roll up! Roll up! For one month only, if you visit Lourdes I'll cut your time in purgatory by 20%! Satisfaction guaranteed. (Deposit non-refundable. Terms & Conditions apply. Offer ends 12am 8th December)."
Surely he's taking the piss.
Monday, 3 December 2007
Driving to work
Pretty, but there's something unnatural about driving to work just as the sun rises.
Friday, 30 November 2007
Ibuprofen
Miche & I have been together for fifteen years gone November. Which is quite a long time by any standard. Fifteen years in which many things could (and have) gone wrong. Yet we're still together and rubbing along quite nicely. We're like a worn joint in this respect - painful from time to time, but regular anti-inflammatories keep things from getting too angry or inflamed.
The problem is - NSAIDs have a habit of irritating the lining of the gut. Once in a while you must stop taking them and cope as best as you can with the inflammation.
You'd think that I'd done something heinous, wouldn't you? Dipped the wick into another candle perhaps. But no - this inflammatory issue is external and outwith the influence of "us". Yet it still gets in the way all these years later.
Of course it's my fault, because in this black and white world everything is - for I am a man and fault is the default.
My "no emo blog post" promise is now broken...
The problem is - NSAIDs have a habit of irritating the lining of the gut. Once in a while you must stop taking them and cope as best as you can with the inflammation.
You'd think that I'd done something heinous, wouldn't you? Dipped the wick into another candle perhaps. But no - this inflammatory issue is external and outwith the influence of "us". Yet it still gets in the way all these years later.
Of course it's my fault, because in this black and white world everything is - for I am a man and fault is the default.
My "no emo blog post" promise is now broken...
Wednesday, 28 November 2007
Being Daddy
I've all sorts of posts in my head right now. Some of them are simple, some of them profound. One or two may be both.
For the time being though, I'm just being Dad.
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Keep Left
I lament the attrition of my early childhood memories. What seemed so bright back then has been smudged and deadened by the passage of time. I'm left only with vague notions and fleeting deja vu as I stumble on through an adult's life.
This is one of the beauties of parenthood I guess - that we can relive our childhood memories vicariously through our children. Or perhaps that we can relive our romanticised version of our childhoods at least...
A close friend told me once of a magical parental moment that he'd had with his daughter, now grown up, on the top deck of a bus waiting at traffic lights in Glasgow. Out of the blue, his four year old said "Keep left". He was confused at first, but then noticed the road sign which commanded the driver to "Keep Left".
In this moment he was awestruck that symbols and glyphs that had previously been only shapes, had begun to take on a meaning for his daughter and be imbibed with metaphor.
This morning, as I checked my email, Meg nonchalantly walked past me and said "Google Mail" to herself.
Truly a child of her time.
This is one of the beauties of parenthood I guess - that we can relive our childhood memories vicariously through our children. Or perhaps that we can relive our romanticised version of our childhoods at least...
A close friend told me once of a magical parental moment that he'd had with his daughter, now grown up, on the top deck of a bus waiting at traffic lights in Glasgow. Out of the blue, his four year old said "Keep left". He was confused at first, but then noticed the road sign which commanded the driver to "Keep Left".
In this moment he was awestruck that symbols and glyphs that had previously been only shapes, had begun to take on a meaning for his daughter and be imbibed with metaphor.
This morning, as I checked my email, Meg nonchalantly walked past me and said "Google Mail" to herself.
Truly a child of her time.
Saturday, 24 November 2007
A warning to the foolhardy
If you find that your soft boiled egg is raw, do not, under any circumstance, be tempted to blip it in the microwave. Even if you've tapped the top off it to relieve the pressure, it will still explode with a satisfying whoomph.
Thursday, 22 November 2007
Eight
Stew tagged me, the bastard. Here's my "crazy eights";
Eight things I am passionate about:
Beauty. It keeps me alive, I swear. I love the fact that it's everywhere I look. As I get older, more and more things have become beautiful. Perhaps my senses are growing more attuned. It can be found in the most unlikeliest of places - the corners of mouths, under pebbles, written in between the lines of a poem or in the single note of a song. Whilst I know it has no inherent value and that it exists only within the eye that beholds it, it gives me meaning. Call me a Gaia junkie if you will, I couldn't care less.
Objectivity / Rationality. I have little tolerance for flim flam, automatic assumption, bigotry, blind faith or superstition. Frankly it boils my piss when I come across it. I guess it's an obsession of mine to reflect on my own automatic assumptions, faiths and superstitions so that I might understand what it is about our fuzzy senses that make us so susceptible to these falsities.
Family / Love. It's in the genetics I'm sure, but my family are the most important thing to me by a mile.
Person Centred Dementia Care. I manage a number of Dementia care units for people with advanced Dementias or who, because of their condition, behave in ways which would challenge more 'traditional' care units. This work is hard physically, emotionally and psychologically and frequently underestimated. The skills, knowledge and values required to to this job well are beyond the reach of many. Yet our government expects the bulk of this work to be done by low paid, under-trained, under-valued people. I try to do my best to engineer the most optimal circumstances for these people to give good care. I'll stop here, before I go on one of my frequent soliloquies on the subject...
Recovery focused mental health care. I'm also responsible for a number of services providing care and support to younger adults with 'severe' mental health problems. By this I mean psychosis, bi-polar affective disorder (manic depression) and such like. Since the dawn of Psychiatry, these conditions have been thought of as incurable and chronic. The system treat them with this assumption. It still does to an extent. With the rise of the 'consumer movement' and service users finding their voice finally, it has become clear that people can learn to live perfectly decent lives with these conditions, given the right circumstances. The lumbering behemoth that is the mental health system is taking its time catching on to this. I'd like to think that I'm amongst those that agitate for change. I hope I'm making a difference, modest as it may be.
The outdoors. I love my Northumberland for its wide open spaces. I try to be outside in it whenever I can.
Running. Well, it gets me outside I suppose. If I don't get to run at least once a week I get irritable and tired. Perhaps I'm addicted.
Technology. Yup, I'm a geek and a man. As such I like all things with buttons and LEDs. Despite my attempts to temper these nerd compulsions, I know that I'll own an I-phone by the end of the year.
Eight things to do before I die:
Run the New York Marathon
Write a half decent book
Plan my funeral
Drive the Nurburgring in a stupidly fast car
Have my children grow into adulthood and tell me that they're happy in their own skin
See the Amazon & Ganges rivers
Grow into adulthood and feel happy in my own skin
Say something really enigmatic, in my final breath, that people will wonder about for generations.
Eight things I say often
Fuck
Perhaps
Erm
What?
Oh, for goodness sake
Sorry
Get down off the back of the sofa
No, I don't want double glazing, now fuck off.
Eight books I have read or am still reading:
The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks
Cider With Rosie, Laurie Lee
Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche
Is it just me, or is everything shit? Steve Lowe
Collapse, Jared Diamond
Metaphors We Live By, George Lackoff
Life of Pi, Yann Martel
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers
Eight songs to listen to over and over again:
This is a hard one, as it changes almost daily. So I will use only my last months listening as indicated by last.fm.
Four Tet - She Moves Me
Bright Channel - Light Workers
Low - California
The Six Parts Seven - Now Like Photographs
Coaltar of the Deepers - Good Morning
Squarepusher - Journey to Reedham
The Arcade Fire - No Cars Go
Mystery Jets - Soluble in Air
Eight things that attract me to friends:
Tolerance - well, they would have to be...
Wit
Intelligence
Modesty
Reflectiveness
Openness
Lack of pungent body odour
A present and working brain
_____________________________________________
I can't be arsed to spread this meme any further. If you want to be tagged by me then just tear off a slip from the bottom of this post
Eight things I am passionate about:
Beauty. It keeps me alive, I swear. I love the fact that it's everywhere I look. As I get older, more and more things have become beautiful. Perhaps my senses are growing more attuned. It can be found in the most unlikeliest of places - the corners of mouths, under pebbles, written in between the lines of a poem or in the single note of a song. Whilst I know it has no inherent value and that it exists only within the eye that beholds it, it gives me meaning. Call me a Gaia junkie if you will, I couldn't care less.
Objectivity / Rationality. I have little tolerance for flim flam, automatic assumption, bigotry, blind faith or superstition. Frankly it boils my piss when I come across it. I guess it's an obsession of mine to reflect on my own automatic assumptions, faiths and superstitions so that I might understand what it is about our fuzzy senses that make us so susceptible to these falsities.
Family / Love. It's in the genetics I'm sure, but my family are the most important thing to me by a mile.
Person Centred Dementia Care. I manage a number of Dementia care units for people with advanced Dementias or who, because of their condition, behave in ways which would challenge more 'traditional' care units. This work is hard physically, emotionally and psychologically and frequently underestimated. The skills, knowledge and values required to to this job well are beyond the reach of many. Yet our government expects the bulk of this work to be done by low paid, under-trained, under-valued people. I try to do my best to engineer the most optimal circumstances for these people to give good care. I'll stop here, before I go on one of my frequent soliloquies on the subject...
Recovery focused mental health care. I'm also responsible for a number of services providing care and support to younger adults with 'severe' mental health problems. By this I mean psychosis, bi-polar affective disorder (manic depression) and such like. Since the dawn of Psychiatry, these conditions have been thought of as incurable and chronic. The system treat them with this assumption. It still does to an extent. With the rise of the 'consumer movement' and service users finding their voice finally, it has become clear that people can learn to live perfectly decent lives with these conditions, given the right circumstances. The lumbering behemoth that is the mental health system is taking its time catching on to this. I'd like to think that I'm amongst those that agitate for change. I hope I'm making a difference, modest as it may be.
The outdoors. I love my Northumberland for its wide open spaces. I try to be outside in it whenever I can.
Running. Well, it gets me outside I suppose. If I don't get to run at least once a week I get irritable and tired. Perhaps I'm addicted.
Technology. Yup, I'm a geek and a man. As such I like all things with buttons and LEDs. Despite my attempts to temper these nerd compulsions, I know that I'll own an I-phone by the end of the year.
Eight things to do before I die:
Run the New York Marathon
Write a half decent book
Plan my funeral
Drive the Nurburgring in a stupidly fast car
Have my children grow into adulthood and tell me that they're happy in their own skin
See the Amazon & Ganges rivers
Grow into adulthood and feel happy in my own skin
Say something really enigmatic, in my final breath, that people will wonder about for generations.
Eight things I say often
Fuck
Perhaps
Erm
What?
Oh, for goodness sake
Sorry
Get down off the back of the sofa
No, I don't want double glazing, now fuck off.
Eight books I have read or am still reading:
The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks
Cider With Rosie, Laurie Lee
Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche
Is it just me, or is everything shit? Steve Lowe
Collapse, Jared Diamond
Metaphors We Live By, George Lackoff
Life of Pi, Yann Martel
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers
Eight songs to listen to over and over again:
This is a hard one, as it changes almost daily. So I will use only my last months listening as indicated by last.fm.
Four Tet - She Moves Me
Bright Channel - Light Workers
Low - California
The Six Parts Seven - Now Like Photographs
Coaltar of the Deepers - Good Morning
Squarepusher - Journey to Reedham
The Arcade Fire - No Cars Go
Mystery Jets - Soluble in Air
Eight things that attract me to friends:
Tolerance - well, they would have to be...
Wit
Intelligence
Modesty
Reflectiveness
Openness
Lack of pungent body odour
A present and working brain
_____________________________________________
I can't be arsed to spread this meme any further. If you want to be tagged by me then just tear off a slip from the bottom of this post
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
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