My cousin died on Saturday. He was 49. Cancer killed him, quickly. His boys are 8 and 6.
If you've got something you want to do, no matter what it is, get on and do it, involve those around you, share your passion and live every minute.
Mostly, life sucks.
Wednesday 20 April 2011
Wednesday 23 February 2011
Go create
Hello. I say it every year around my birthday (which was yesterday) and actually do follow up the idea - I should do more. This year as you may well know I have taken up skateboarding again after 30 years, today was a good day for that. I took my son to an indoor ramp where for the first time I dropped in on the half pipe. If that means nothing to you it's because either A) you're young and don't skateboard or B)you're old and have no idea what I'm on about. For the benefit of both parties it means that I went off the top of a platform into a curve running away from said platform in a gravitationally challenged aspect. At least that was the plan. The first 15 attempts ended in a wipeout akin to dropping a pig carcass from 2 stories. Eventually though and with plenty of encouragement from the kids there, I did it. As the young might say, I was 'stoked'.
The downside is apparent though, I think I've either broken or seriously sprained a toe, have bruises on my knees (pads? only on elbows) and ache, but never mind, I enjoyed it enormously!
Aside from the above, the other thing I've just got back to is photography. Having graduated from Erith Comprehensive in 1980something with a solid CSE grade in the subject, other than using pro photographers work commercially, I've not done much of my own. Sure there were holiday snaps, but nothing I was really proud of. The past few years I've had a colleague who has been enthusiastic about images and she's really helped. The wanting to 'out do each other' means we both paid more attention, even to the point of several trips out for the sole purpose of taking photos.
We've worked together to produce good quality commercial photos for our mutual employer and the rewards personally have been great (we got diddly squat from the company) and pushed us to achieve better each time. Now were in a photo project group with another colleague and a few other friends and the results are all good. Each of us want to produce better images to impress each other I think and that is a good thing. Without the competition you're never driven quite as hard.
Now, if I can combine photos and skateboarding without getting arrested or broken, I will!
The downside is apparent though, I think I've either broken or seriously sprained a toe, have bruises on my knees (pads? only on elbows) and ache, but never mind, I enjoyed it enormously!
Aside from the above, the other thing I've just got back to is photography. Having graduated from Erith Comprehensive in 1980something with a solid CSE grade in the subject, other than using pro photographers work commercially, I've not done much of my own. Sure there were holiday snaps, but nothing I was really proud of. The past few years I've had a colleague who has been enthusiastic about images and she's really helped. The wanting to 'out do each other' means we both paid more attention, even to the point of several trips out for the sole purpose of taking photos.
We've worked together to produce good quality commercial photos for our mutual employer and the rewards personally have been great (we got diddly squat from the company) and pushed us to achieve better each time. Now were in a photo project group with another colleague and a few other friends and the results are all good. Each of us want to produce better images to impress each other I think and that is a good thing. Without the competition you're never driven quite as hard.
Now, if I can combine photos and skateboarding without getting arrested or broken, I will!
Tuesday 8 February 2011
Mid life crisis. Get your own.
Ha! I'm 42 soon, a matter of days, 14 of them, two weeks. This means that I am in middle age and not knowing when the period began, or indeed at what age it ends, I'll be drawing it out for as long as possible.
It appears that there are a number of unwritten rules about what is acceptable behaviour for someone in middle age. Due to the confusing and random nature of said rules, I can only assume that they were written by either A) a woman or B) a Frenchman.
There are lots of other people on this earth that are currently middle aged and they all view the process of aging differently. Some see it as the beginning of a gradual decline and start doing things that are associated with much older people, pressing flowers, doing puzzles, macramé, you know the sort of thing. In confession, I'll admit to having dabbled in the dark art of activities commonly grouped as 'crafts' and may well do so again, but (look away or cover your ears if you are easily offended),
I DON'T INTEND TO CURL UP BY THE FIRE AND DIE WITH A COPY OF 'COMPLEX PUZZLES MONTHLY' JUST YET.
So, if I want to avoid the above, what else can I do? Let me think.......oh yes, I cycle. That's fun, slamming around a woodland trail on a mountain bike getting muddy and sweaty, running the risk of coming off and landing in brambles. Maybe the last bit isn't so appealing but it adds to the adrenaline rush so it stays in.
The other thing I've just picked up again after a near 30 year hiatus is, wait for it, skateboarding. No really. I'm old enough to remember the craze appearing for the first time in the late '70s. The skateboard I had then cost £6 from Hoskins Newsagent in Long Lane, Bexleyheath. That red plastic device was wonderful, it had semi-transparent yellow wheels and a kick-flip at the back. We rode it along the pavement mostly, or on a rare visit to Greenwich park we got to go down the hill that had red rubber matting on it for that very purpose! Friction burns were guaranteed.
Back then our exposure to things like that was limited to seeing something in a toy shop or seeing it on Blue Peter or Swap Shop on a Saturday morning. Concrete bowls and purpose built ramps just didn't exist here back then, at least if they did, we had no idea about them.
Come back to 2011 and not far from home is a brilliant custom made skate park in my local town. My 6 year old son and I have been there with his board. Sadly, the weight limit on his board is about 5 stone lighter than me. This got me thinking - maybe I could get my own then I wouldn't risk breaking his. So I did. It's got skulls on it and everything!
With age has come responsibility and both son and I have proper helmets and the obligatory knee/elbow padding. No shame in protecting the sticky out bony bits.
Feeling very self conscious and wondering if I was just being a complete cock, we went to the park again. The thought of those trousers round arse pants on show kids laughing at the silly old duffer nagged a bit I must confess. Imagine my surprise when we got there and saw someone else my age, skating, skating bloody well, carving up the bowl and actually looking cool whilst doing it. Hell, even the kids were watching him!
Some of the teenagers stopped being spotty and awkward long enough to offer me advice other than 'sod off pedo' and 'where's ya walkin' stick'. Yes, they actually welcomed another skater and tried to help me learn an essential trick, the 'ollie'. I shan't explain it because unless you too have an affinity with the outpourings of Avril Lavigne, it ain't gonna mean much.
Stoked with my newly rediscovered fad I gushingly told my colleagues, one of whom is quite close to me in the middle aged stakes. Now, I expected a bit of ribbing having thrown myself on them akin to Daniel at a Lions Tea Party, but trying to claim it's part of my mid-life crisis, now come on! Perhaps having been in a rock 'n' roll band counted, that I'll give them, but skateboarding? Why?
Somewhat confused I asked if skiing fitted the model. Throwing oneself down a snow covered mountain with planks on your feet whilst dressed in a giant lurid romper suit, it turns out, is OK and not an indulgence of crisis. The only defence offered as to why this was the case turned out to be 'because it isn't'.
I'm not really bothered though, after all, I'm having fun and doing something that I'm actually capable of and it turns out, am not alone. According to the bloke I met there are plenty of us having another go at this. As with all past times of youth, they often get put on hold to get a career going, buy houses, get married and have kids. So, I ask you, is it really so bad that a few of us get over our fears and pick up where we left off?
Now, I'm off to slip on my DCs, hoodie and get skating.
Anyone seen my Deep Heat?
It appears that there are a number of unwritten rules about what is acceptable behaviour for someone in middle age. Due to the confusing and random nature of said rules, I can only assume that they were written by either A) a woman or B) a Frenchman.
There are lots of other people on this earth that are currently middle aged and they all view the process of aging differently. Some see it as the beginning of a gradual decline and start doing things that are associated with much older people, pressing flowers, doing puzzles, macramé, you know the sort of thing. In confession, I'll admit to having dabbled in the dark art of activities commonly grouped as 'crafts' and may well do so again, but (look away or cover your ears if you are easily offended),
I DON'T INTEND TO CURL UP BY THE FIRE AND DIE WITH A COPY OF 'COMPLEX PUZZLES MONTHLY' JUST YET.
So, if I want to avoid the above, what else can I do? Let me think.......oh yes, I cycle. That's fun, slamming around a woodland trail on a mountain bike getting muddy and sweaty, running the risk of coming off and landing in brambles. Maybe the last bit isn't so appealing but it adds to the adrenaline rush so it stays in.
The other thing I've just picked up again after a near 30 year hiatus is, wait for it, skateboarding. No really. I'm old enough to remember the craze appearing for the first time in the late '70s. The skateboard I had then cost £6 from Hoskins Newsagent in Long Lane, Bexleyheath. That red plastic device was wonderful, it had semi-transparent yellow wheels and a kick-flip at the back. We rode it along the pavement mostly, or on a rare visit to Greenwich park we got to go down the hill that had red rubber matting on it for that very purpose! Friction burns were guaranteed.
Back then our exposure to things like that was limited to seeing something in a toy shop or seeing it on Blue Peter or Swap Shop on a Saturday morning. Concrete bowls and purpose built ramps just didn't exist here back then, at least if they did, we had no idea about them.
Come back to 2011 and not far from home is a brilliant custom made skate park in my local town. My 6 year old son and I have been there with his board. Sadly, the weight limit on his board is about 5 stone lighter than me. This got me thinking - maybe I could get my own then I wouldn't risk breaking his. So I did. It's got skulls on it and everything!
With age has come responsibility and both son and I have proper helmets and the obligatory knee/elbow padding. No shame in protecting the sticky out bony bits.
Feeling very self conscious and wondering if I was just being a complete cock, we went to the park again. The thought of those trousers round arse pants on show kids laughing at the silly old duffer nagged a bit I must confess. Imagine my surprise when we got there and saw someone else my age, skating, skating bloody well, carving up the bowl and actually looking cool whilst doing it. Hell, even the kids were watching him!
Some of the teenagers stopped being spotty and awkward long enough to offer me advice other than 'sod off pedo' and 'where's ya walkin' stick'. Yes, they actually welcomed another skater and tried to help me learn an essential trick, the 'ollie'. I shan't explain it because unless you too have an affinity with the outpourings of Avril Lavigne, it ain't gonna mean much.
Stoked with my newly rediscovered fad I gushingly told my colleagues, one of whom is quite close to me in the middle aged stakes. Now, I expected a bit of ribbing having thrown myself on them akin to Daniel at a Lions Tea Party, but trying to claim it's part of my mid-life crisis, now come on! Perhaps having been in a rock 'n' roll band counted, that I'll give them, but skateboarding? Why?
Somewhat confused I asked if skiing fitted the model. Throwing oneself down a snow covered mountain with planks on your feet whilst dressed in a giant lurid romper suit, it turns out, is OK and not an indulgence of crisis. The only defence offered as to why this was the case turned out to be 'because it isn't'.
I'm not really bothered though, after all, I'm having fun and doing something that I'm actually capable of and it turns out, am not alone. According to the bloke I met there are plenty of us having another go at this. As with all past times of youth, they often get put on hold to get a career going, buy houses, get married and have kids. So, I ask you, is it really so bad that a few of us get over our fears and pick up where we left off?
Now, I'm off to slip on my DCs, hoodie and get skating.
Anyone seen my Deep Heat?
Tuesday 25 January 2011
'Are we there yet?'
Pre christmas (small 'c', pagan and all that) some builders built some stuff at my work. The dust has settled now and my much reduced room to store marketing items is complete. No it isn't. This room has no outside light source, or 'windows' as they are often referred to, the glassy, Pilkington® version as opposed to the crashy unstable type that most office workers are familiar with.
Now, to make the room usable, we have lights....switched most normally by a switch. Get me? Touch. My room has two switches. One in the newly created expanse of the 'Technical, sorry, Engineering, office next door to the marketing room which shall now be referred to as Switch A, the other, in a room the other side of the new marketing room, buried on a wall between some shelves, Switch B.
On arriving by bicycle this morning, I fancied the notion of 'turning on the light' in the little room so I could see (HSE execs scribble away) WTF I was doing. Having moved the pile of obstructions immediately in front of Switch B and flicking said switch, no light was forthcoming. Cursing loudly and leading with size 9 boot I made my fumbling way through a fire door (not, as named, on fire) and shouting the odds (acutally, 'FUCKING BUILDERS, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO INSTALL A FUCKING SWITCH) I burst into the new Technical, sorry, Engineering, office.
Odd looks from the Engineering (got that right!) Director and some other employee. Other employee was on a Skype™call........
So, having shed my cycling gear, equipped myself with 'you wouldn't hit a man with glasses' glasses, I returned to aplogise. Sorry Engineering.
Then. I asked the person responsible for organising the builders just when the switch works were scheduled. The fob off ensued.
I could see that he was speaking but was very aware that the words he meant were 'Stop fucking asking shit face, they've gone. You're not going to get the poxy switch so sod off'.
Any one got a candle?
Now, to make the room usable, we have lights....switched most normally by a switch. Get me? Touch. My room has two switches. One in the newly created expanse of the 'Technical, sorry, Engineering, office next door to the marketing room which shall now be referred to as Switch A, the other, in a room the other side of the new marketing room, buried on a wall between some shelves, Switch B.
On arriving by bicycle this morning, I fancied the notion of 'turning on the light' in the little room so I could see (HSE execs scribble away) WTF I was doing. Having moved the pile of obstructions immediately in front of Switch B and flicking said switch, no light was forthcoming. Cursing loudly and leading with size 9 boot I made my fumbling way through a fire door (not, as named, on fire) and shouting the odds (acutally, 'FUCKING BUILDERS, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO INSTALL A FUCKING SWITCH) I burst into the new Technical, sorry, Engineering, office.
Odd looks from the Engineering (got that right!) Director and some other employee. Other employee was on a Skype™call........
So, having shed my cycling gear, equipped myself with 'you wouldn't hit a man with glasses' glasses, I returned to aplogise. Sorry Engineering.
Then. I asked the person responsible for organising the builders just when the switch works were scheduled. The fob off ensued.
I could see that he was speaking but was very aware that the words he meant were 'Stop fucking asking shit face, they've gone. You're not going to get the poxy switch so sod off'.
Any one got a candle?
Wednesday 19 January 2011
Communication breakdown
Is the title a reference to a Led Zeppelin track? Might be, might not be. The thing is, I'm trying to communicate with a person and that person is not reciprocating, what's particularly odd is that the person doesn't even know what it is I'm going to communicate. Imagine:
'Ding dong'........
'Ooh! There's someone at the door. Wonder who it is?!'
The perennial answer to that one is - bloody well answer it and find out! Basic, but effective.
Sometimes you need to speak to someone and they're in a crowded place, busy, occupied with something else or just plain not interested. Fortune smiles on you and an opportunity arises but you're not able to get the words out. Aarrrghhhhh! Frustration sets in. It should be simple but we tie ourselves up with conventions and that horrid feeling of saying the wrong thing.
So, the truth is, there's never a 'right time' to speak. Spit it out, deal with the consequences and try to be nice.
The person I'm trying to speak to won't read this (no one does...) but maybe by me typing a pile of tripe will filter into the ether and tap them on the shoulder saying 'go on, listen to him, give him a moment, it might be worth it.' They know I don't bite, threaten or otherwise make trouble so I don't know what they're not wanting to hear.
Are full page adverts in The Times or Guppy Keepers International expensive?
'Ding dong'........
'Ooh! There's someone at the door. Wonder who it is?!'
The perennial answer to that one is - bloody well answer it and find out! Basic, but effective.
Sometimes you need to speak to someone and they're in a crowded place, busy, occupied with something else or just plain not interested. Fortune smiles on you and an opportunity arises but you're not able to get the words out. Aarrrghhhhh! Frustration sets in. It should be simple but we tie ourselves up with conventions and that horrid feeling of saying the wrong thing.
So, the truth is, there's never a 'right time' to speak. Spit it out, deal with the consequences and try to be nice.
The person I'm trying to speak to won't read this (no one does...) but maybe by me typing a pile of tripe will filter into the ether and tap them on the shoulder saying 'go on, listen to him, give him a moment, it might be worth it.' They know I don't bite, threaten or otherwise make trouble so I don't know what they're not wanting to hear.
Are full page adverts in The Times or Guppy Keepers International expensive?
Saturday 4 December 2010
World peace.
The world turns in an oblate spheroid kind of way about it's imperfect axis and as such these variations in rotation and shape dynamics cause tension. Not in the fabric of the world so much although earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes, and general devastation do play their part, no, I'm thinking of the human element, the fifth one.
We jolly well do our damnedest to cause conflict don't we. You might be thinking 'Hang on Shirley, I've never invaded Poland or hacked to death a whole nation 'cos they looked at me funny', but let me tell you, we're all (even glorious me) ready for a punch up. Remember the last time someone cut you up on the road or didn't hold the door of a shop for you? You muttered something under your breath (how exactly do you do that?) or maybe stuck a finger or two up, maybe even made the 'WANKER' sign at them.
Sometimes a little gesture is all it takes. Imagine if you will a trip to a supermarket, that's the place chaps where ladies go to spend money on exotic products that can't be deep fried, fried, or drunk. During your trip whilst searching for those twisted reconstituted chicken lumps that the kids like, you inadvertently bump trolleys at the frozen foods cabinet. The chunky gold bedecked tattooed family beside you don't like it and it all kicks off. Before the Daily Mail has had time to write a scaremongering witless title, The Battle of Greenhithe has become an event. It escalates beyond the frozen aisle as sides are taken with small similarities keeping people together.
'That man has the same logo on his jumper, I'll side with those people' and so on. In the first aisle a man has just died from having a frozen fish finger thrust through his ear, it's getting nasty.
You may laugh but over the years, battles have raged and at some point the very reason for the start becomes lost as the human passion for conflict drives the horror onward.
Then, it snowed. Yes, that's right, snow. This week we've had in excess of 15" of it in North Kent over just a few days. Day two saw six of us from my road out there clearing the road, talking and joking and generally keeping up morale as we went. Day three saw the same as fresh snow fell overnight. Even on day four when I managed to drive my car to work, those that I walked past in order to get to where I'd parked it were cheerful in our exchanged greetings.
Maybe it's just a British thing, but we all get together and sort it out when it snows hard. Let's experiment, rather than investing billions in armament and defense, the boffins working on a giant snow machine to coat any part of the world about to descend into chaos in several feet of the white stuff. Instant cooperation guaranteed.
So then, there it is, a not very complete manifesto for World peace. The snow has gone now, would you all mind if we got on with ignoring each other again, at least until the next natural phenomenon pulls us together. Thank you.
Monday 15 November 2010
I've been busy, now I'm in France...
Hello bloggettes, glad to have you about again. This week, starting Monday 15th 2010 sees me and my dear Father in La Belle France. We are here with the sole purpose of visitng several war graves and monuments from the First World War, or The Great War as it was called at the time. No one thought it possible that so many nations could ever entertain the thought of doing that again....
So, we took the ferry from Dover at 9am and by lunchtime had arrived at the Canadian memorial that is Vimy Ridge. This is staffed entirely by young Canadian nationals, they were all keen, knowledgeable folks, indeed we only confused one by referring to the time as 'half one' rather than 'half past one'. Fortunately a delightful young lady showed us (and two other visitors) the site and the underground tunnel complex. We spent an hour there marvelling at the engineering feats performed in virtual silence (the germans could hear the tunnels being dug) whilst enduring a constant barrage of artillery and mud and cold.
After the above we drove on to Thiepval. This is simply huge, a monument to mark the 72,000 missing after the first battle of the Somme. Just so huge, so many men.
So, we took the ferry from Dover at 9am and by lunchtime had arrived at the Canadian memorial that is Vimy Ridge. This is staffed entirely by young Canadian nationals, they were all keen, knowledgeable folks, indeed we only confused one by referring to the time as 'half one' rather than 'half past one'. Fortunately a delightful young lady showed us (and two other visitors) the site and the underground tunnel complex. We spent an hour there marvelling at the engineering feats performed in virtual silence (the germans could hear the tunnels being dug) whilst enduring a constant barrage of artillery and mud and cold.
After the above we drove on to Thiepval. This is simply huge, a monument to mark the 72,000 missing after the first battle of the Somme. Just so huge, so many men.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)