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Well another month has passed by and, judging by the weather in the past two days, is taking Summer with it.
Everyone I see seems to be obsessed with the behaviour of two elderly egotists from opposite parts of the world and how their relationship might impact upon us all. Everyone seems to be living under a mushroom cloud that has not yet been produced. Yes, there are scary stories doing the rounds. I see them every morning from the front cover of every worthless bum-sheet that we have to put out on the stands for our customers to waste their money on. But history tells us that, even though individuals continue to reach levels of disgusting atrocities, mankind in general is programmed to ensure its own survival, and in the end wiser heads will prevail. Mutually Assured Destruction is an over-used reminder of how life was in the latter half of the 20th Century but the principal it stands for is accurate and relevant. Trump and the Other Guy will back down from each others egos because if they don’t they’ll both be annihilated. Or lots of other people will, even if they survive. And knowing what I know and learning what I’ve learnt I still deep down believe that, deep down, no-one wants to go to their grave with a billion or so deaths on their conscience.
So let’s all step into September with confidence and with trust, and instead of panicking about things far afield that we have no sway over, let’s do the one thing we can do to influence the people that we actually can influence - let’s be nice to each other.
That’s my two pence worth, and you may take it or leave it as you please.
RC 31-8-17
There’s been a hurricane ripping peoples lives apart in Texas, and this is a perfect opportunity for humanity to show its true worth and pull together and love their neighbour as themselves, and what’s happening?
Looting.
People are taking advantage of the situation to rob from others who are already in despair, and emergency services are having to deal with that instead of helping out the needy and the homeless.
Nice work, fellow humans.
RC 30-8-17
What was that saying they had in Ancient Rome? “The hotter the weekend, the harder the fall back to work?” Yes, I think that was it. Today was like a day back at school after a week at a festival, or a dark rainy day after a holiday abroad, or a drive in a banger after a chauffeur-driven Bentley, or a combination of all three. It was hard, and it hurt, and it made Bank Holiday Monday seem like a lifetime ago.
Moths are bloody everywhere this Summer. It’s not just my imagination, is it? Every night there’s at least ten in the bedroom and when I wake up there’s at least four on my face, two of which are mating. (At least part of that last sentence was true.)
There’s loads of them about. I know we’ve been sleeping with the windows open and my wife has a tendency to leave lights on, but even allowing for that there seem to be an extraordinary number of the winged bastards inside our house every evening. I think we’re under some kind of stealth attack. Maybe it’s the North Koreans, who as well as firing occasional ICBMs over Japan have also been training Lepidopteral assassins to deliver nightly doses of chemical weapons to the West.
It could happen.
It could be happening right now.
And speaking of animal invasions - when I walked back from the garage into the house this evening after a wee bit of drumming, I counted at least thirty slugs in our back garden, six of which were feasting on a plum that had been thrown out of the kitchen window earlier.
Nature, huh?
RC 29-8-17
Only a few days left in August. Do you think it’s too late to start myself a blog challenge for 2017?
Today has been so hot that I’m starting to think it’s all a dream. I can’t be the only person left wondering what the Hell has happened. It’s an AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY for Christ’s sake, and it’s been sunny and almost thirty Celsius. Have we moved nearer the Sun without anyone telling us? Has the plot of the excellent film “The Day The Earth Caught Fire” come to fruition and we need a couple of carefully-placed nuclear bombs to go off at exactly the right time for everything to be put back the way it should be?
I don’t know, but what I do know is that I’m bloody knackered after a great day in the sun and now I’ve given myself the urge to watch the film I’ve just mentioned (if I can find it buried in a box somewhere that I still haven’t unpacked despite having lived here for over two years now) even though I should be heading off to bed in preparation of a return to work tomorrow.
RC 28-8-17
It seems to me that most of my blog postings in August have been quite short. I feel I should reverse that trend somewhat and give you better value for money, so be warned - this could be a long one!
Today has been another wonderful day. Bright sunshine, a long lay-in with my wife, a leisurely morning in the garden, then an afternoon and evening at the seaside being terribly British and having ice creams and playing amusements on an August Bank Holiday. Tomorrow is supposed to be even hotter but we haven’t made any plans. We’re going to see how we feel in the morning. Maybe a barbecue, maybe a bit of lawn mowing, maybe a walk to a pub for some lunch. Who knows? The beauty of being so happy together is knowing that whatever we end up doing, it’ll end up being great.
And with that, I’m going to join her in bed and snuggle up close and comfortable.
Today’s blog title was a bit of Initialoetry by the way.
RC 27-8-17
I’ve had a damn good week, all told. The weather has been glorious, I’ve been able to cycle most evenings, I’ve started my new course of drumming lessons, work has been a doddle and Philippa has been in a fantastic mood. It’s all good. We’ve booked our little trip away for next month, which helps. Nothing grand, just a little romantic city break where we can lose ourselves on Holiday Island and indulge ourselves in each others bodies. Plus it’s now August Bank Holiday weekend and I haven’t got to work until Tuesday. So, even though I worked today as an extra so I’m still only having two days off, it feels like I’m stealing some time back from my employers. And even though I know I’m NOT actually stealing time back from them, it lightens my mood to think that I might be.
Such is the weird, confused psychological logic that I live by.
RC 26-8-17
I think the person responsible for giving names to storms in the UK is just wandering around an old Victorian churchyard and reading the gravestones for inspiration. After Storm Doris earlier this year we now have Hurricane Gert to worry about. Who the Hell would name anything Gert? I wouldn’t give that name to a hamster, much less a destructive force of nature. It sounds like they’re just plucking names from a Swedish furniture catalogue in which reclining chairs are named after relatives of the people who designed them. Unless there’s a meteorologically relevant acronym for Gert that I’m not aware of: Getting Everyone Really Trashed, maybe.
On a more positive note, I’ve said this sort of thing before but I’m happy to say it again - I love clouds and I love sunsets, and August skies are a gift from the gods.
RC 19-8-17
Philippa and I went out for a meal tonight. This is a genuine word-for-word description of something we could have ordered:
Beetroot & Butternut Squash Risotto:
“A mix of giant cous cous & quinoa with beetroot, roasted butternut squash, kale & pumpkin seed in a light creamy crème fraiche, white wine & lemon sauce. Served with rocket & garlic bread.”
That sounds to me like someone took every possible ingredient that might be attractive to a middle-aged health-conscious trend-following couple and threw it all into one dish. Either that or a tosspot gastro-freak chef ingested a book by Heston Blumenthal and then masturbated onto the menu.
I had soup and a curry.
RC 16-8-17
Philippa has given me another reason to be buoyant - I’m going to have some more drumming lessons! She made the suggestion tonight, having looked up a few names of people nearby, after realising that I was a bit down last week and struggling for motivation.
How wonderful is that?
How lucky am I?
If the roles were reversed and it was HER going through a down phase I’d have probably avoided any emotional conversations with her and hidden myself in the garage until she cheered up a bit.
I still have a lot to learn about this marriage lark.
RC 15-8-17
I admit it - I’ve been a right grumpy bastard for the past week or so. I fell into my old trap and did exactly what I’ve repeatedly promised not to do - aired my grievances and vented my spleen and used this blog as a big cauldron of self-pity and thrown myself into it and stirred it around.
No more!
I am cheerier, chirpier and chippier. Red wine helped, as did getting some approaches from people who are happy to work overnight, as did chatting to Philippa and agreeing to book a September weekend away somewhere. We might go local and find a nice B&B, we might buy an online city break abroad, or we might just wake up on the Friday and make a decision on the fly. Holidays are happy times and the act of simply talking about having one has lifted my spirits and refreshed me.
RC 14-8-17
We saw Sophie today and she told me that mum has been in contact with her three times in the past six months. The first time she sent her a message saying she had stopped drinking and was feeling great and was hoping to build bridges and rejoin the family. The second time she was hammered and emotional and saying she was considering suicide. The third time was a vitriolic facebook message calling Sophie every unpleasant name ever used in the English language and saying her life had gone to shit the second she had given birth. So her decades of turmoil and turbulence are all our fault apparently. Nice to have offspring to blame for the shitstorm you’ve created of your own existence.
It got me thinking though - my reluctance to be a parent myself is almost certainly down to my own experiences of parenting. How can I be expected to know how to raise a child when I was basically fending for myself as an infant? My older sister was the closest thing I ever had to a mother, and she was making it up as she went along and trying to deal with her own problems at the same time. Is it any wonder none of us are particularly enthusiastic about bringing children into the world? It would be like someone who’d never seen a guinea pig being given one to raise as a pet, or putting someone in charge of a multinational company whose only experience of business was having a boss who beat the shit out of him and blamed him for everything, or maybe electing someone President who had absolutely no background in politics and was then expected to deal with an increasingly unstable and problematic collection of world leaders.
God help us/me.
RC 12-8-17
What are the chances of us having decent weather this weekend, so I can plan a couple of days of barbecues, beaches and biking? Not very high, would be my guess. I would have a look at the weather report but the last thing I need is another excuse for depression.
11-8-17
The expected Summer rush of customers-heading-for-the-coast and staycationing British families has not materialised. We had a guy in today from a big local tourist attraction and he said it’s been the slowest start to August since he’s worked there. They do charge ridiculous amounts of money to get in (not shy of £90 for a family of four to visit) so I’m not surprised in the slightest, but it does seem to be a worrying trend bearing in mind how much the local area relies on the holiday trade. It started one of those weird conversations that often surfaces at my place of work, where four or five completely different customers, who have naff all in common but have been thrown together by virtue of joining the same queue, all have their little say before heading back to their cars. Some of the theories for this mini downturn in fortunes included “Hidden recession”, “that bitch in No. 10”, “global warming”, “Donald Trump being in bed with the Communists”, and - bizarrely - “the Spanish.”
All I know is that, trend or not, some annoying little graduate in Head Office is going to haul my arse over the coals when I send in my end-of-month reports, as if I’ve been out on the road with a shotgun firing at anyone who might be signalling to turn into our forecourt.
RC 10-8-17
One of our night-shift people has handed in their notice already. Part of me is amazed it has taken this long for someone to bail out, part of me is disappointed as it’s the first member of staff I’ve lost. You can’t blame them, though. I used to hate doing overnight stuff when I was in the supermarket proper. It messes with your mind, your body and your personality. The only people I met who could cope with working through the darkness were people who already had a certain kind of disturbance within them. And at least those who were working in overnight stock replenishment within the store were part of a team and had a few kindred spirits to share the pain with. Our poor saps are sitting on their own in a bullet-proof booth for ten hours; their only contact with others coming via a small intercom system hidden inside the spit shield. They get to spend more than half their waking hours trapped in a tiny area surrounded by chewing gum and a till, with the only view being a dimly-lit forecourt at which 12 separate fuel pumps sit idly awaiting the arrival of petrol-hungry customers who only actually roll up once every three hours. On the rare occasions each night when someone does turn into the garage they tend to be lonely drivers who are desperate for conversation, but so used to being on their own in their world of travelling that they can’t utter much beyond “Pump 7 please. And can I have a Bounty?”
Do let me know if you’re looking for a job….
RC 9-8-17
We had to try out some new drinks at work today that are being considered for addition to the soft drinks collection in our fridges. One of them was a well-known brand of cola that have now released a ‘no sugar’ version that has added ginger flavouring. Three of us had to sample it and tell Head Office what we thought of it. My response was - “It’s like a dozen different artificial flavourings competing for space on my taste buds.”
I have once again been called uncooperative and unprofessional.
But I don’t care - it tasted bloody awful. Give me the full-fat, heavily-sugared version and stop pissing about with ‘healthier’ options that are actually crammed full of chemicals that are far worse for you than sugar and probably give you a tongue tumour.
If nothing else today though, I’ve learnt that the word “uncooperative” doesn’t have a hyphen in it. For the first time in my life, spellchecker has taught me something useful instead of making me want to punch the screen in.
RC 3-8-17
I was up and about quite early this morning, so I took the time to have a decent breakfast for a change and made myself a nice omelette. At lunchtime I went over to the staff canteen and had a “pizza-style toasted sandwich” which was very nice, then for tea tonight I made my legendary spaghetti bolognaise - one of the concoctions I perfected while away at university.
What I’m trying to tell you is that melted cheese was an ingredient of all three meals I’ve eaten today.
RC 2-8-17
