An Ode To British "Summer"

Different shades of greyness

That's all we ever see

We spend all Summer hoping

It'll rise by one degree

We feel our spirits droop

With every rainy day we see

And then the constant blowing wind

Completes our misery

Life imitating art?

There's a line in the 1990s movie 'Glengarry Glen Ross' which has Al Pacino's character (Ricky something?) asking a question that goes something like, "Have you ever had a shit that made you feel like you'd slept for a week?"
I've never really understood it. Found it funny, yes. But never really understood it.
Until today.
I have been, to be honest with you, uncharacteristically constipated over the past few days. It's not a feeling I'm used to, and I'm not sure what caused it, but it's been very uncomfortable and a little troubling. And I'm sorry for introducing this topic to my normally verbose, intellectual and educational blogsite, but it's the truth, and maybe me sharing about it here will prompt others to feel less embarrassed about their own experiences. Defecating is, after all, a regular process that is common to us all.
So - constipation. I don't know what caused it, as I've been continuing with my less-meat/more-greens diet change that has upped my energy levels considerably, but it was getting worrying. I did a bit of research and learnt that it might be stress related, so maybe the onslaught of bad weather and the resultant complaints from visitors may have contributed to my body not working as it normally does. It's also possible that once I noticed it, and started worrying about it, it exacerbated it. The mind is a powerful thing, after all. I tried various remedies like meditation, drinking hot water, and relaxing my muscles in sequence, but nothing was making anything shift, and for 24 hours or so I was feeling like I had a Fender Stratocaster stuck in my colon.
Then, this morning, I ate a BIG bowl of Alpen, with some extra fruit added (blueberries and mango), and as soon as I got to work I had a large mug of strong black coffee, and that combination did the trick. Spectacularly. I was walking over to a security meeting and had to detour quickly to the staff toilet.
I then spent the next ten minutes in the cubicle, and for about 8 minutes of that time (rough estimate) stuff was leaving my body. And I'm not talking about sweat. (although there was a fair amount of that too.) It left me feeling utterly exhausted. Like I'd run a half-marathon wearing a suit of armour and then walked up ten flights of stairs.
I feel weak, emptied, shattered and decimated.

At least I don't feel blocked though; so that's something.

RC 12-6-26

Satisfaction Not Guaranteed

It really is quite amazing how much mood is affected by the weather. And yes - I know this is a boring topic that I have overwritten about countless times before, but the evidence continues to mount and the consequences never seem to lessen, so why not revisit it? It's not like I'm just rehashing thoughts about an incident long past, I'm typing about how my life is being affected today, and today it's being affected by the rain.
This isn't just me I'm talking about, by the way - it's the mood of the general population and the resultant attitude and atmosphere. Take my work environment as an example. When people arrive here on holiday, they expect to get holiday weather. Now, as I've said before, that is not something that either I or my employers can control, but that doesn't stop paying customers from blaming us for it and speaking to us accordingly. They also seem to think that the opportunity for enjoyment onsite ends when the clouds appear and the rain starts. Which is ridiculous. We have a multitude of facilities and activities that are not dependent on sunshine or dry days, but it seems that a drop in temperature makes people reluctant to enjoy themselves, even though we're providing possibilities, and they take the lack of decent weather as a personal affront. Which, again, is ridiculous.
All I can say is - (although I would never actually say this to one of them) - that if you want to bask in 30 degrees Celsius, book a holiday somewhere that regularly has that temperature. And if, instead, you come to Suffolk in June, then be prepared to wear a raincoat.

RC 9-6-26

And, again, with the rain...

It is damper than a walrus' mouthwash and the sky is cloudier than the piss of a man with chlamydia. This has prompted Philippa and myself to ramp up our efforts to find employment, and residence, abroad. I think we're both equally sick of living in a country where the climate is about as predictable as a swift's flightpath and as reliable as a watch with no battery. We're sick of having to plan for rain 325 days a year and having to keep our children in coats in months when it should be sweltering. There's an old saying somewhere about 'having the courage to change the things you can'. Well, we can't change the British weather, but we can change whether we are here to put up with it, and that's what we're both concentrating on. The list of potential destinations is still quite a long one, but our criteria for deliberations is now settled upon, and that's making the process clearer and easier. It's also very exciting. There's no definite time frame in place, but we want it to be as smooth as possible with regards to the boys' education, which would probably mean a Summer move, at the end of a school year. We're far too close to that now to stand any realistic chance of achieving it in 2026, but there's no reason to think we couldn't get it done in time for a move 12 months hence...
And I can handle another shit year of weather if I know for sure it's the last.

RC 8-6-26

A few thoughts...

Life is short

Love is precious

Family is important

Don't waste energy on people who drain you

Don't waste time working, unless your work is rewarding

RC 7-6-26

Wacky World Cup Predictions

Someone at work (his name is Matt, not that it matters) is running a sweepstake thing for the upcoming football World Cup, but it's not one of those boring 'pull a team from a hat and instantly lose interest' ones, it's one where you make your own wild predictions, and if one of them lands, you earn a point. The person who gets the most points wins the money, and a box of chocolates. So, even though I have very little interest in the event (the tournament, I mean, not the fun work thing) I have decided to take part. And as I love a bit of research and a bit of speculation, I have actually put rather a lot of time and a lot of thought into it. So here - for you, even though these won't all be submitted to Matt - are my suggestions for what I think will almost-certainly/definitely happen over the next 4 weeks or so (or however long this bloody thing drags on for...)
And please bear in mind that my understanding of this sport is about as good as my understanding of international economics...

At least one team will score at least 10 goals in one match.
The tournament's top scorer will score exactly 8 goals.
Donald Trump will be mentioned in coverage at least as many times as Kylian Mbappe.
There will be a match delayed or postponed due to weather.
There will be a death at a match. I won't designate if it will be a spectator, player or staff, but it will happen inside the stadium.
England will not win it. (bit of an easy one, this, but I'll put it in anyway).

RC 6-6-26

lazy attitude to Nature

I have been terribly lacking in my commitment to SpringWatch this year. I don't even understand why - I've always said it's a highlight of the televisual year, and worth the licence fee on its own, but somehow this year I am neglecting it.
To be fair, it does land right in the middle of our getting-boys-settled-ready-for-bed routine, but I can watch it at any time on iPlayer, so that's not really an excuse. And Mathew is so keen on animals, and loves watching live wildlife cameras on YouTube, so I'm sure he'd happily sit and watch it with me. It's almost as if I am deliberately avoiding something I know I enjoy, just so I can miss out on it and feel bad about it.
Aren't Human Beings great to ourselves?

RC 3-6-26

Memory lapse?

I seem to have forgotten how to make a decent cup of tea. I know that, technically speaking, it's as simple as throwing hot water, milk and a teabag in a mug and just letting it fester for four minutes, but I've always prided myself on taking care over every brew I prepare, and I've always received positive comments for my efforts.
Now, though, I'm serving up either tasteless, bland, over-milked filth, or tea so strong you could stand up daffodils in it, and I'm not entirely sure what's gone wrong. Maybe it's one of those things that you lose the ability to do once you think about it. When you've been doing something on autopilot for decades and then you suddenly become aware of what you're doing, it can throw you completely and lead you to question your routines. Then you can't relax and rediscover your mojo because your own head is getting in the way of your skill set. So now my confidence is shot to bits and I'm starting to avoid the office kitchen for fear of being asked to make someone a cuppa. I know it's not a huge thing, but it's come on so suddenly and thrown me so far sideways that I'm wondering whether this will become a worrying trend in my life and start affecting other things. Am I suddenly going to approach a busy junction and forget how to apply the brakes? Am I going to pick up my phone to message my sister only to find that the knowledge of how to type numbers in has deserted me? Will I forget how to swallow, or walk, or breathe????

RC 2-6-26

A few (perhaps cruel) observations

THINGS SCRIBBLED IN MY NOTEPAD OVER THE PAST FEW WEEKS:

Alexander Armstrong is the smuggest man in Britain.

Jeremy Clarkson's lower face looks like an old man's scrotum.

You know your hangover is bad when you go to fill the kettle, but forget to open the lid, so you're just holding it closed under the tap while water goes absolutely everywhere (except into the kettle).

I hate cars, and I tend to ignore their noises, but even I listen to my neighbours SAAB and think 'Jesus, mate, I'd be getting that looked at if I were you.' It sounds like a washing machine full of bricks being rolled down an upwards escalator.

I shall miss seeing Glastonbury on the telly this year.

RC 1-6-26