Hourglass empties...

Suddenly, somehow, we are sitting at Advent Eve!

Normally I look forward to this day as excitedly as an overworked bird looks forward to the day her offspring fledge, but this year I feel quite indifferent.

It’s crept up on me, that’s the trouble. This year has been a weird conglomeration of parental strife, work woes, Brexit bullcrap and insomnia, and I haven’t been able to register the passing of time as it’s happened. Now we’ve hit the last day of November and I’m wondering where the Hell Spring went.

I know I’ll get into it tomorrow. There’ll be Advent calendars to open (Mathew has one, even though he’s too little for the chocolate. Daddy will be helping him on that front, I’m sure.) There’ll be newspapers that quite clearly have the date DECEMBER 1^st on them, and there’ll be the usual flurry of start-of-the-month e-mails from Head Office, where mid-level management bods will need to be producing more pointless spreadsheets to justify their own overpaid, unnecessary existences.

Everything just seems to happen so quickly, these days. I hate to sound old, but I’m sure I remember a time when life moved on quite steadily, and we could all take odd moments here and there to enjoy the beauty of the world and appreciate what we had around us. Nowadays it seems we’re all just rushing on to the next appointment, or the next hour of work, or the next social media post, or the next celebrity television show, and no-one pauses for breath. No-one pauses for reflection. No-one allows themselves time to regroup, re-evaluate and reset. We’re all just charging full-pelt at a destination we don’t even know, desperately trying to get there before the other people who, like us, have no idea what they’re doing and are just being pulled along by the tide. We’re leaderless, rudderless and clueless; driven on by the cultural obsession with consumerism and instant answers and self.

No wonder the months fly by unattended.

RC 30-11-19

Second Attack

My cold seems to have come back. I don’t know what this virus is, but it’s a weird one. I had three days of sniffles, soreness and lethargy, then I had a day of feeling fantastic, and now I seem to be on Day One of a cold again. Is it the same thing biting back, or a new illness leaping on the immunity dip caused by the first?

I knew I should have studied medicine.

Actually -that would be a terrible idea. I have a deep-seated, well-ingrained tendency towards hypochondria, and every time I learn of a new disease or condition I start convincing myself I have it, so spending years at university being trained in every possible human ailment would probably have caused me a breakdown.

Following on from that, to help pass the time until hometime, I present for you:

A LIST OF DISEASES THAT I HAVE JUST MADE UP. (but I bet that by the time you finish reading them, you’ll be recognising some of the symptoms and wondering whether you have them)

FASTIDIOUS NECROMITIS: An inflammation of a gland you’ve never heard of, causing you to become obsessed with staring at dead bodies.

WOBBLER’S GANGLYON: A strange growth on the scrotum of elderly men, frequently accompanied by an itching sensation and uncontrollable laughter.

CRANIAL ACNE MAJORIS: A rare condition in which a teenager’s lifetime supply of pus is contained in one huge whitehead spot on the forehead.

JASON’S EGO: Psychological disorder making athletic young men trawl the globe in search of wool products.

ORALUS PULPOUS DENTITIS: An unusual swelling of the canine teeth in young adults, leading to an ogre-like appearance. Often seen in children of cameramen.

RC 29-11-19

Parental Superpower?

Both Philippa and I seem to have made a remarkable recovery from our colds. If I believed in miracles, I would call it miraculous. Yesterday we were living in a pit of phlegm and misery, today we seem able to breathe. It’s so weird that I’m starting to wonder whether the whole thing was just a nasty, unpleasant dream. I’ve tried looking up info about colds to see if there’s a 24-hour version you can get that your body is able to repel quite quickly, but the article I started reading led me to a page about ‘Medical Warning Signs No Middle-Aged Man Should Ignore’ and now I’m convinced I have prostatitis, MS and malaria. The internet is a dangerous thing sometimes.

Anyway, it’s nice to know we can look forward to a weekend of relaxation, clear tubes and happiness, rather than the coughing, sneezing and aching I was anticipating.

I shall leave you with this Frightening Thought:

4 weeks ago today was Hallowe’en.

4 weeks from today will be Boxing Day.

RC 28-11-19

Dickensian squalor

Our entire house is full of people wracked with cold. Philippa is almost bed-ridden, Mathew is more snot than baby, and I’m only upright thanks to high-dose cold-and-flu meds and caffeine.

I’d love to take a couple of days off and look after them, but the joyous reality of working for the company I work for is that they’re not very understanding when it comes to family matters. Calling in sick to care for relatives is almost a sin. As a manager, I’m expected to drag myself in through the door even if I’m on the brink of death, which I have to say I don’t feel too far away from right now. I have a suspicion that, were I to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, they would still want me there at my desk, and would even allow a rearrangement of the office so that chemotherapy could be administered while I’m juggling the January rotas. The days of employers that place the wellbeing of their workforce above all other matters are sadly long gone, if they even existed in the first place.

If – and it’s a HUGE if – I ever end up running my own business, I swear to you now I will be a caring, understanding boss who lets you work hours that suit you and who never puts profit before people.

RC 27-11-19

Polling bollocks

This will be, I promise, the one-and-only blog I post that mentions the upcoming General Election. So allow me to make a couple of quick points:

It worries me that lots of people are planning to vote, and yet seem to have no understanding of how elections, parliament and democracy actually work.

Why is such an importance being placed on how the Party leaders are doing in televised debates? The last time I looked, we vote to elect our LOCAL MP, not a national leader. We’re not America.

I’ve never met one person who has had their mind changed about something by reading someone else’s social media posts. So what is the point of flooding your online presence with ‘reasons to vote like me’ or ‘reasons not to vote for the others’? You’re not going to affect anybody.

RC 26-11-19

Sniff

I have a cold.

I hate having colds.

They make me miserable, moody and mentally slower.

Everything seems to take longer to do and everything seems to hurt.

I’ve been quaffing Blackcurrant Lemsip all day and I still feel like a badger that’s run a marathon.

I came home hoping for sympathy, only to be told by my wife “I had an hours sleep last night and Mathew’s teething, so unless you’re dying of typhoid or something I’m really not that interested.”

So now I am cooking a curry. Nothing soothes a sore throat quicker than a steaming hot Madras. And you can use that in your adverts if you wish, curry people.

RC 25-11-19

JFK. Blown away. What else do I have to say?

Mad that it’s now 56 years since the Kennedy assassination. I have no doubt that there will be a thousand and one memes floating around today along the lines of ‘Where’s Lee Harvey Oswald when you need him?’

Very amusing…

Personally, I just see it as a great excuse to watch the extra-long, extended-edition version of Oliver Stone’s 1991 masterpiece “JFK.” Whether you think it’s conspiracy theory gone extreme, or one man’s paranoia writ large on screen, or a scarily true rendition of the events in Dallas and their aftermath, you have to admit it’s a remarkable piece of film-making. Something to be shown to aspiring actors, writers, editors and directors alike as an example of what cinema is capable of if you set your standards high enough. Some of my all-time favourite moments in movies are contained within this one film, and it saddens me to think that cinephiles under the age of 30 will probably rank it a long way down their list, behind most of the Marvel releases and at least one Peter Jackson product. Donald Sutherland’s performance as “X” will win my Best Supporting Actor EVER award if I ever get round to doing my oft-considered “All-Time Oscars”, but it also has exquisite turns from the likes of Walther Matthau, John Candy, Kevin Bacon, Wayne Knight and Jack Lemmon. Cinematography is beautiful, editing is unsurpassed and the tension that builds in some of the ‘reveal’ moments is up there with the best of Hitchcock.  It’s just brilliant.

Award yourself a prize, by the way, if you recognised todays blog title as a lyric from the Billy Joel song ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire.’ (which comes from his excellent 1989 album ‘Storm Front’ which I urge you to give a listen.)

RC 22-11-19

Multicoloured or multi-coloured?

I’m enjoying the gorgeous sunsets we’re having. The view from my office window is awful, but if I find an excuse to wander across the car park to the supermarket (which I do most afternoons around 4ish) I can look across a nearby field and see the end of the day in all its glory. I always moan about Winter but I’m realising that I love it from now until the time of my birthday. For the next couple of months it tends to be fresh, bright and bearable, and if we do have a bad turn of weather it normally involves snow, which I love. It’s after that that it feels like a slog through dark treacle until we change the clocks in March.

So I’m trying to stay as positive as possible about it all and thinking of ways I can get this ‘enjoying it’ mindset to last through January and February. Maybe a nice little family holiday in early Spring would help? A chance to go somewhere warm and get rid of the aches and pains of a British Winter? The knowledge that it was there waiting for me would surely help me on days when I’m struggling with darkness (mental and actual). Yes – I feel a trip to some travel agency websites coming on.

Mind you – we’re likely to have a No-Deal Brexit at the end of January, so God knows what that will do to holiday prices and the chances of going anywhere.

Suddenly I feel pessimistic again.

RC 21-11-19

Reflective

We’re a month away from Mathew’s first birthday.

Wow.

Hard to believe that this time last year I hadn’t even met him. I had no idea what he would look like, or sound like, or smell like, and I was questioning whether we would even like each other, and if I would take to life as a parent. How ridiculous. It’s hard to describe to people who haven’t been through it, but the second that baby gets placed in your arms you become besotted for life. It’s remarkable.

Parenting, I believe, is the only thing we’re really put on this planet to do. All that guff about success and money and academic achievement is just window dressing on top of creating a family, or distractions for people who haven’t been lucky enough to conceive yet. There’s only one driving force that affects every single creature on this Earth and that’s the urge to produce offspring. When you do it, not only do you achieve what nature has designated as your only life goal, but you’re instantly connection to the trillions of other beings on this world who have ticked the same box and passed on their genes. You’re an important part of everything.

And this time last year I didn’t realise any of that.

It’s been the most amazing, scary, life-changing, emotional, enjoyable time of my existence, and it’s only been 11 months!

I’m not crying, by the way, my eyes have just decided that my cheeks need a bit of a wash.

RC 20-11-19

You just never know how you'll feel

I feel quite cheerful today, even though I’ve been back at work, and even though it’s been dark since 4.30, and even though we’re facing a long undying stretch of Winter ahead of us. Not even the fact that we’re trapped in a pre-Election vortex of pathetic political behaviour is bothering me; nor is the ever-looming, never-to-be-resolved issue of Brexit or the arguments over a second referendum. All that shit is still ongoing, but today it’s just bouncing off me.

Maybe I’m concussed.

RC 19-11-19

Mid-November News

Been a week of weird little things that have made me feel like I’ve lived three months in seven days. Car troubles, staffing issues, headaches, son with sniffles, slightly unwell wife. It’s all stuff that builds up and hurts you, drains your energy and exhausts you.

But it’s over now. We made it. The week is done. The weekend can be planned, experienced and enjoyed. Personally I intend to spend as much time as possible at home with my beloveds and as little time as possible outside dealing with other people.

Whatever you decide to do with your weekend, I hope it goes well for you.

RC 15-11-19

Don't Vote (a political poem)

Don’t vote just to get a change

Don’t vote just because you’re angry

Don’t vote just because you’re scared

Don’t vote because you fancy the candidate

Don’t vote because you feel you should

Don’t vote because people are TELLING you ‘you should’

Don’t vote based on Brexit

Don’t vote based on immigration

Don’t vote based on ANY one issue

Only vote if you have analysed all the available information, and if there is one candidate who you agree with and are happy to have as your MP for the next five years.

If not –

DON’T VOTE

RC 12-11-19

11th Month Blues (a poem)

A cool November day

I sit upon an office stool, and sway

Wishing I could visit home, and play

But I’m ok

A dark November night

I sit upon a PS4, and fight

Wishing I could walk outside, in light

But I’m alright

RC 11-11-19

...and...exhale

Another week done.

Bonfire Night passed without anyone throwing a firework at me; I’ve managed to hold off Head Office’s relentless charge to ‘Festify’ the garages, and our family Christmas cottage is booked!

All in all, a fine few days of accomplishments.

Now I can set sail on a ship of weekend relaxation, in which I intend to enjoy a fine bottle of red wine, a walk on the beach, at least two good movies, a nice Sunday lunch out somewhere, a cuddle or two with my beloved, and a lot of daddy/Mathew time.

Marvellous.

RC 8-11-19

No Xmas talk today, I promise

The dark nights are getting on my tits already.

I know there’s nothing I can do about it (short of moving abroad somewhere) but it still hurts. I love the Autumnal colours, I love the cool, crisp air and I love sense of change and adaptation in nature, but the fact that I drive home in the dark now is a killer. Working regular, old-fashioned ‘office’ hours has its perks, but at this time of year it means I spend all of the available daylight from Monday to Friday with my work head on. I guess I have to make the most of the time that I get at weekends, but I’m normally feeling knackered by then, and I want to use all my remaining energy on my wife and child.  

It might not be an accepted thing to say these days, but we’re definitely affected by the seasons internally, right? You can’t tell me that the human body, over tens of thousands of years, didn’t develop ways to heat itself better in Winter and cool itself better in Summer. There must be mechanisms in place that kick in automatically, making us store more fat and crave more sugar, when it starts getting colder and darker. We might not migrate (more’s the pity) but we surely react in other ways? Don’t we all start feeling as tired at 4pm in November as we do at 9pm in June? Doesn’t it make sense for us, as a species that used to exist outside, to be controlled that way?

With that in mind, I am composing a proposal for my employers, in which I am allowed to adjust my working hours in line with my natural body rhythms. Longer hours in Summer; shorter hours in Winter, to allow for the drop in energy. If they go for it, I’ll only come in for three hours a day for the next three months, and then find another job in Spring.

RC 7-11-19

Yuletide update

We think we have a solution to our ‘family together for Christmas’ dilemma. Hannah has found a nice little cottage available to hire for a fairly reasonable price. It’s on a big farm, where they have four of these separate buildings that used to be lived in by staff and have now been converted into holiday homes. Two of the others cost an absolutely fortune to hire for the Christmas week, and the third is being used by the farmer’s family, but luckily for us this other one is being used as digs by visiting actors in a big pantomime. The theatre company have already paid for it to be used throughout December, but obviously the performers will be going home for a couple of days to be with their families, so we can have it from Christmas Eve til Boxing Day afternoon for a few hundred quid.  It’s self-catering, but even allowing for the food bill, it still works out as an inexpensive way to have the whole family under one roof. We were prepared to spend £60 each on a three-course meal out somewhere; this way we get two nights of accommodation for not much more. Sophie has already offered to cook for us all. Nathan has to do some churchy duties in the morning, but it’s not too far away from their home so he can nip off for a couple of hours and be back for lunch. We can all chip in for the grub, I’ll use my 20% staff discount card to get it all a bit cheaper, and we can hold up there for 48 hours and have a merry old time fit for a Dickensian festive feelgood novella!

I’m looking forward to it already.

RC 6-11-19

Leave me alone, I beg you

Head Office are up everyone’s arses to ‘Festify’ all our workplaces. There’s no money available for staffing, obviously, but they can throw countless thousands into a pot to spend on baubles and tinsel. They seem convinced that making our garage look like something vomited up by a tipsy elf will persuade our customers to dip in their pockets for chocolates. I can understand them decorating the stores to death, but why do we humble filling stations have to follow suit and fill every able wall space with glitter? I find it hard to believe that a Volvo driver will see an advent calendar on our counter and go “Oh, shit, yeah – Christmas! Better get my wallet out and spend nine hundred quid on Heroes.”

I love December, but I’m already pining for January.

RC 5-11-19

Bitty Weekend Bits

With 48 hours distance, and a chance to reflect, let us mention England’s World Cup Final defeat by South Africa. I think my feelings can be summed up this way - I’ve never felt so disappointed about a sport I’m not really interested in.

I went off to watch some fireworks Saturday night. Without a wife to accompany me, I decided to be a cheapskate and parked down a side road close to the field where the bonfire was, hoping I could get a nice free show. It worked, a bit, but they were using a playing field enclosed by trees, so I only really got to see the rockets that went up at the end. Not the same, it has to be said, but at least I was only out of the house for an hour.

I arrived at work today to see that the supermarket is installing its Christmas tree in the foyer. The day before Guy Fawkes Night, and they’re sprucing up the spruce already.
I know I work for them, but they are bastards.

RC 4-11-19

Fizzling out

You probably know, if you’ve read any of my past early November postings, that I am a bit of a fan of Bonfire Night. I love the fireworks, I love the open-air food, I love the gatherings of likeminded people all out and about to enjoy a common spectacle. It’s become a bit of a tradition in recent years to venture out with Philippa and cuddle up close near a fire, but this year that streak may be broken by the fact that we are parents.

Philippa thinks it will be too much for Mathew, but she’s happy for me to go out and see a display without them. I’m not sure that sounds like a great deal of fun, really. Mainly because there won’t be anyone there to drive me home after I’ve gotten slowly wasted from my hip flask.

RC 2-11-19

As expected

I sent out all the details of the staff rotas for December and people reacted as if I’d asked them to eat their own spleen for Christmas dinner.

One of the joys of management is having to deal with individuals and their foibles. What seems ultra-important to one of them is just an insignificance to another, and it’s up to me to juggle all that and keep them all happy.  What hasn’t helped is the fact that we’re now committed to this awful money-saving ‘staff sharing’ scheme between the garages and the supermarkets. We have a few ‘floating’ members of staff who are there to plug in any gaps in the schedules. They work 2 or 3 days a week each and get moved around different departments depending on where they’re needed. It’s helpful, but you never know if you’ll get the same person from one day to the next, so you might have to take time out to train them on the tills every time. Jesus, there were a lot of ‘t’s in that sentence.

I think I dealt with it all in my usual calm, professional manner. By which I mean, I huffed, sighed and shrugged a lot and then swore at my office wall for an hour.

RC 1-11-19