I
decided to mark the passing of January with an after-work swim and a sauna. It
cleared my head and brought me back to myself and helped me cast off the mental
anguish and heightened nerves of the past few days. It helped me recover fully
from my late night on Sunday and helped me return to my home without the
anticipation of another unpleasant exchange with my wife.
It was lovely.
See you in February, friends.
RC 31-1-24
I
should have known that the whole '3rd Child' conversation wasn't just going to
disappear into the memory banks and never resurface. I had hoped, I guess, that
Philippa's comments on Sunday would be left with me and she'd let me ponder it
and mull it over, but I forgot that my wife just doesn't operate that way. She
gets an idea in her head and it stays at the forefront of everything and she
expects it to be the same for me. So, as soon as I walked in tonight it was
raised as a topic of discussion again.
"Did you get a chance to think much about what we talked about
yesterday?"
"Not really, love. In between staff rotas, stock orders, management
meetings and budgeting conference calls I barely had time to think about
breathing, much less plans for our homelife."
It led to a strange evening, to say the least. Philippa's weekend visit to her
friend seems to have cemented this perfect scenario in her mind in which our
family unit is completed by a daughter at the earliest possible convenience. I
pointed out that we are currently both exhausted by the two offspring we
already have, and that there isn't really available space in this home for
another child, and that we would have to buy a bigger vehicle - again - and
that she is now about to start trying to get clients as a massage practitioner while
also getting used to being back at work, and all manner of other sensible
reasons why not, and she just batted them all back at me like a defensive
cricketer in complete control of the crease.
I feel exhausted.
She is just so good at taking charge of these exchanges and making me feel like
I'm making ridiculous points and generating embarrassing excuses. And yes - I
get the point that I know what it's like to have children the same sex as me,
and she doesn't, and that it might be nice for her to experience that, and I
get the point that it might be good for our sons to have a female sibling so
they can learn what it's like to be around girls and that would lead to them
having better relationships with women in the future (any kind of relationships
I mean, by the way, not just romantic ones) and I get the point that if we did
it sooner rather than later Philippa could still have a career once no.3 is old
enough. I get all that, but still...
Why would we bring another child into this rapidly-dying environment that
already has far too many inhabitants for them all to survive successfully? Why
would we put ourselves through another long spell of pregnancy-related anxiety,
only to have it followed by another long spell of sleeplessness, expense and can-we-keep-this-child-alive
fretting? Why would we add another young 'un into an already complicated mix of
personalities that will undoubtedly cause friction, conflict and awkwardness in
their teenage years and early adulthood? Why?
For the love of God, Philippa, WHY???
RC 30-1-24
I
watched both NFL Championship Games yesterday, including my San Francisco 49ers
ridiculously thrilling comeback win over the Detroit Lions, even though it
didn't finish until just before sun-up. Yes - I have failed to learn from
previous experiences and thrown my sleep patterns sideways for the purposes of
sport. And yes - I did sit on the sofa at 3am thinking "Well, they've
blown it again for the 3rd year running" only to be pleasantly surprised
by the outcome.
But I'm aware that the percentage of readers who follow American Football is
probably rather low, so I shall leave that there and tell you about other
events this weekend.
Philippa took the boys out on Saturday afternoon to visit an old work chum who has
two children of similar age to ours, but with both being girls. I took
advantage of the quiet to watch "The Sting" - one of my all-time
favourite films - which turned up unexpectedly in the ITV4 weekend schedule. Still
as amazing as it ever was, 50 years after its creation. On Philippa's return, I
cooked some macaroni cheese with bacon (a new favourite of Mathew's) and opened
a bottle of Australian wine. Philippa was in a strangely reflective mood and I
made the terrible error that many married men make in that position - I asked her
what was on her mind. She proceeded to tell me how wonderful her friend's house
is, and how wonderfully well she seems to be coping with parenthood, and what a
wonderful mum she is, and generally doing that thing of unfairly comparing
herself to others who are in similar, but also very different, situations. I
pointed out that she is an amazing mum, and has just qualified as a purveyor of
sports massages, but it didn't seem to help. Then it took a stranger turn where
she was saying how much easier it seems to be to have daughters instead of sons,
which I do not agree with and have heard plenty of anecdotal evidence to the
contrary. Then she was saying how well Mathew got on with Angelica, the
horribly named girl in the house who is only two months younger in age, and
kept highlighting how good Mathew was with her, and how much calmer he seemed to
be with a young female presence around while he was playing. So I said,
"Well, it sounds like you're planning ahead and getting ready to marry him
off to Angelica!" and she replied, "No, actually, I was thinking it
might do him good to have a younger sister."
So I'm sure you can understand why I wanted to stay away from the bedroom, and
sat alone watching the NFL all night instead...
RC 29-1-24
God, didn't I go on a
bit yesterday? Sorry about that, I got a bit carried away with myself. I think I
was having a day of heightened emotions - I can't remember a time previously
where I felt tears dripping down my face after writing a blog posting!
Anyway, moving on from that 'New Man' nonsense - I seem to have rediscovered my
love of cooking. I've been going through a spell where food just didn't
interest me, and the thought of spending hours preparing it made me feel like I
was going to have to re-sit my final exams. Then the bug I had at Christmas
made everything taste awful and ripped away my appetite, so that didn't help.
But over the past week or so, I have found myself venturing back into the
kitchen and reacquainting myself with the pots and pans and assorted sundries.
Keeping it simple for now, but I'm determined to get into some more complicated
recipes very, very soon. I shall, of course, share the details with you. I may
not be able to offer you a taste (as technology has not quite advanced that far
yet) but I will certainly offer my thoughts on the results and invite you to
try them out yourselves.
RC 25-1-24
I
really didn't want to do this sort of blog at any point this month, but as
those of you who are now on the dark side of 40 will know, reaching this age does
do some strange things to your psyche, even when you try very, very hard to be
unaffected. So I have found myself being reflective, and contemplative, and
thoughtful, and also projecting ahead to what the next decade, and beyond,
might bring to The World of The Rory.
I
guess my first conclusion would be that I am genuinely, genuinely happy with
how things are for me at the moment. I may have taken myself down some very ill-advised
cul-de-sacs in the past, but I have ended up living somewhere I feel very contented,
married to a woman I love wholeheartedly, and working at a job where I finally
feel worthwhile, appreciated, comfortable and content. How many 'middle-aged'
people can say similar? So I am fully appreciative of the position I am in and
realise that I might be unusually settled compared to some of my peers and
contemporaries. I don't do the whole 'comparison' thing, by the way, this is
just me acknowledging that I have a lot to be thankful for, and others of my
ilk may not be in that same state, which makes me enjoy it all the more.
My
second realisation is that I am SO glad to be a decade removed from my 20s.
There was some weird shit that went down, and some even weirder shit that
happened in my head, while I was 'finding my way' post-University. In my early
30s, looking back would lead to feelings of embarrassment, shudders of shame,
and frequent thoughts of 'WHAT WAS I THINKING?' Now, with the passing of time,
I can recollect these things almost as an older relative, and can be
understanding and forgiving of myself (and others that were involved) instead
of wanting to punish myself for my stupidity, or worrying that I might repeat
the same mistakes and misadventures. I can accept that I was a confused, anxious,
barely-out-of-his-teens, inexperienced wanderer along the pathway of life and I
took a few missteps along the way while learning. And that's okay. The more
people I speak to, the more I realise that very, very few of us have a clue
what we're doing at that age; and that's true whatever your background or
whatever you spend your time doing. University graduates with stellar grades
are just as inept at dealing with adult life as an unemployed 24-year-old with
autism. We all struggle into adulthood, and it's only now that I can realise
that, and to realise that that is ok!
I'm
trying very hard not to say 'I've grown up' but I think there is a level of wisdom
that you
only acquire through certain encounters and experiences and can only realise
you have reached when you can distance yourself emotionally from who you used
to be. I look back at my younger days now, not as a scalding teacher or a
judgemental priest, but as a loving friend and a caring companion. Mentally, I
can place an arm around the shoulder of my younger self, rather than want to
slap them for being who they are. That's a real change, and has made a huge
difference to my self-esteem, and the way I am with others, whatever age they
may be. And I feel I've only reached that point by doing the things I have done
since turning 30 - career choices, living arrangements, marriage, etc - that
took me away from the way I used to be, and used to think. I embraced the
changes within myself that the external changes brought, and have benefitted
from them immensely.
And
the biggest change in there, of course, and the one that REALLY had the effect
on me that changed the way I view things, was Philippa and I becoming parents.
Which brings me to my last big conclusion - if I
achieve nothing else in my life; if I am already past the midway point of my
existence and am now just gradually heading towards inevitable expiration; then
at least I have created two wonderful, amazing humans that will hopefully enjoy
their lives and brighten the lives of others. Parenthood is, simply and
inadequately put, the most important, most rewarding, most exciting, most
emotional, most incredible, most humbling and most satisfying thing I have ever
done in my 40 years of life, and it has made me better, more complete and less
selfish. And I reap the rewards every day. I have an eternal, unbreakable bond
with my wife because we created these beings together, and they have settled my
soul and made me realise my purpose. I exist to raise them in the best way I
can; to protect them, guide them and nurture them. And that is a privilege I
shall never, ever take lightly or take for granted.
RC 24-1-24
So, I'm 40.
Do I feel different?
No.
Maybe slightly more relaxed than I did this time last week, but nothing more
than that. You may not have noticed, but I don't really like being the centre
of attention; I like to drift through life being treated with unrecognition and
indifference. So knowing that a day is
going to be all about me and my advancement in age has never really sat comfortably
with me. And the bigger the effort being made by others, the more that feeling
seems to be magnified. So the last couple of weeks have been a bit Hellish, as
people have been constantly reminding me what was coming and wanting to ask me
questions about it.
In the end, it was a lovely weekend, thank you. I got to see the people I would
want to see, I didn't allow myself to feel pressured into doing something
'huge' and I tried to ignore the silly little voice in my head telling me how
much closer to Death I am now...
Philippa - who is now officially qualified, by the way, although she doesn't
have the documentation through yet - gave me a lovely birthday massage. Mathew
had drawn me a beautiful picture on a home-made card and really seemed to get
that it was my birthday and he was a gem to me all day. A few people dropped
round, a lot of people messaged, and it was just.... nice. That's such a naff
word to use, but it sums it up for me really. It was just NICE. And that's more
than good enough for me, thank you.
RC 22-1-24
Well
that 'posting every day of the month' thing died a sudden death didn't it?
I didn't run out of enthusiasm, I assure you. Life just got in the way. Then -
I must confess - I simply haven't thought about this blogsite at all!
I think (another confession here) that the birthday thing really is weighing on
my mind. I am about to turn 40, which is exciting because it's the start of
another decade and the number actually makes you look younger, in a way, but it
also means I'm probably heading into the downward half of my life; the half
where things get steadily worse. Sorry to be morose and morbid when I've been
away for a week, but this is where my head has been. Stuck within myself and
fighting for optimism. Staring across my office and trying not to imagine
future illnesses. Driving in the dark and wishing we could live somewhere with
permanent Springtime. All that stuff. And it's really rather boring, because
it's such a cliche and such an obvious reaction to imminently hitting 40. And it's
the second week of January, which is when EVERYONE feels a bit down and
pessimistic and poor. But I can't help the way I feel. All I can do is accept
it and embrace it and work my way through it. And while I've been doing that,
I've tried not to bore you with it and bother you with it.
Until today.
So to end on a positive note - once we get through the next few days of cold,
the temperature will be in double figures in Celsius and will stay that way for
a couple of weeks!
RC 18-1-24
Isn't
it lovely when the date number in January rolls into double figures? Nice to
know we're already one-third of the way through the darkest, longest month. Plus,
I noticed that there was still a nice trace of sunset at 4.50pm! It really
won't be that long now until I'm leaving work and driving home and still being
able to see across fields while travelling. That, to me, is always an indicator
that the back of Winter is broken and Springier weather is on the way.
RC 10-1-24
Yesterday
was a good example of why this 'Do It Every Day' blog challenge is a bad idea -
I had nothing of any worth to write about, but I was so determined to keep my
record going that I just put up a shitty little paragraph about nothing. I wrote
about what I was doing, just to do it, and I was only doing it, so I could
write about it.
What a waste of everyone's time.
Strangely enough, I was chatting to someone the other day about 'wasting time'
and what actually fits under that title and what doesn't. For her - whose name
was Sarah - any minute where she isn't rushing around taking life head on is an
example of wasted time. I said I understood that sentiment, but said that in my
experience, racing around trying to do too much is, in itself, a waste of time,
because you're not making the best use of the seconds, minutes and hours before
you, you're too busy spending them chasing achievements and trying to 'do' too
much. Sometimes, I concluded, simply doing nothing is the best use of time that
there is.
She didn't agree, but that's up to her. She's far more likely than I am to end
up with a duodenal ulcer or a breakdown, so good luck to her, she's entitled to
her own opinion and her own way of life, and the consequences will be hers to
deal with.
That was a load of old waffle, but has hopefully been more interesting reading
than my efforts yesterday!
RC 9-1-24
Work was not fun
today. My tiredness came roaring back in a big way. Nothing to do with sitting
up late last night keeping up with the final day of the NFL regular season, I'm
sure...
So I'm having a relaxing bath, then an early night, but I just wanted to pop
online to make sure I keep my little New Year resolution/challenge going...
RC 8-1-24
Philippa
and I settled down with some fizzy pop and a bowl of snacks or two and had a
nice, belated Christmas movie cuddle-up session last night. After my health
buggered most of our Yuletide plans, it was nice to get a chance to just be together
and enjoy each other and watch something while annihilating some chocolates.
The only downside being that the film wasn't as good as either of us had hoped.
We went for "Respect" - the biopic of Aretha Franklin. A well-made
film, indeed, but Philippa's response was "Well, I didn't learn anything
about her that I didn't already know" and my response was "If you
edited out all the clips of Jennifer Hudson singing, it would have been about
12 minutes long."
I know the music has to be represented, but I think they went a bit over the
top with it. Ms Hudson does a fine interpretation of Ms Franklin, but if I
wanted to hear so many of her songs I could have just put on a playlist, or
watched one of Aretha's many live appearances and concerts that are available
on YouTube. Effectively, we were watching someone do karaoke for the best part
of two hours.
It seems to be the trend with these movies about musicians. It was my big
disappointment with 'Bohemian Rhapsody' - everyone said how brilliantly they
recreated Queen's Live Aid performance at the end, and I was just thinking,
"What was the point? We can all see that footage any time we want to, why
not just show the whole clip on screen instead of mimicking it, or better yet fill
that time with more of the band's story?" I'd rather learn more about how
the songs were written and produced than just hear someone doing a cover
version of them.
Anyway, I shan't go on....
RC 6-1-24
I actually feel a bit
more human today. I'm not saying I'm going to start a New Year exercise program
or sing my heart out for hours on end, but I woke up without a pounding
headache for a change and I do seem able to climb a few stairs without ending
up hacking and breathless, so that's progress.
Nathan has requested a postponement anyway, so it's suddenly a free day.
Philippa came up with a grand plan that involved going out to look at furniture,
but I pointed out that I'm still rather under the weather, and maybe exposure
to the damp Suffolk air might risk setting me back a few days in my recovery,
so that idea has been shelved too. So I think we're going to catch up on a
couple of Christmas films that we missed out on, and maybe have our first takeaway
of 2024. First up will be "Abominable" which is on iPlayer. Looks
like a sweet, animated movie that Mathew might be engaged enough with to sit
still for 90 minutes or so. The feature-length Shaun the Sheep special
"Farmageddon" is on there as well, and my boy does love a bit of
Aardman, so maybe that'll pass a bit of time this afternoon. Then, once the evening
meal is devoured and the boys are safely in bed, I'm hoping The Wife and I can
cuddle up and enjoy "Respect" or "The Courier".
Happy times.
RC 6-1-24
So far, so good with
the Blog Challenge! I can't imagine for one second that I'll actually manage to
post something every day in January, but after a week or so of feeling crap and
useless, it's nice to note that I am keeping up with this for the time being. It
gives me a little sense of achievement and a little bit of pride in amongst all
the self-loathing and self-berating. A small tick in the plus column, if you
will, or a little 'W' to hang onto and feel good about.
We're supposed to be seeing Nathan and Hannah tomorrow, so that may limit my
ability to write. I say 'supposed to' because Nathan does a lot of stuff with
vulnerable adults and the elderly these days (a nice thing that his church set
up during the lockdowns that they've kindly kept going for the community) and
he's worried I might pass something onto him that might kill off half his congregation.
I keep telling him I'm on the mend now, and the antibiotics should have seen
off any infection, and you're normally only infectious - if at all - for the
first couple of days with a cold, and there's so much Covid and other shit
about that all his parishioners will have been exposed to whatever this is
already, but he's insisting on being careful. And being quite rude about it.
Why is it that the religious people are sometimes the most un-Christian people
you can encounter? There must be a passage
somewhere in the Bible that says, "Blessed are the Pious, for they shall
be a bit Bastardy to those around them when they feel so inclined." (I
must admit I haven't read the whole thing, so it might have been something I've
missed.)
RC 5-1-24
I am going to try
very hard NOT to moan about my physical condition today. It is what it is, and
I'm in a lot better shape than many millions of other people, so I have no
right to be unhappy and to fill this blogsite with bemoanments.
Did you spot my 'deliberate mistake' by the way? I've managed to do my annual
"Rory Dated His Blog Entry Using The Number Of The Year That's
Passed" silliness. On Tuesday, I believe. I'm pretty sure I've done it all
the way until the end of January before, so I don't think I should beat myself
up for doing it in the first few days of the New Year, especially when I'm not
on top of my game because I'm poorly... (Ah, shit, I wasn't supposed to mention
that!!)
Anyway - I'm back in the office and getting on with stuff, and it's actually
making me feel better than wallowing about at home feeling sorry for myself. It's
quite a quiet time for us, which makes a very nice change, so there isn't a
list on my desk that resembles the passenger list on the world's biggest cruise
ship, there's just a few odd things here and there that need to be taken care
of. Other than that, it's looking ahead to the Spring and coming up with
advertising ideas and possible activities, which is quite nice, in a way,
because it reminds me that the brighter nights and warmer days and nicer
weather are not that far away, even though my naughty brain is determined to
convince me that it's only Day 1 of Winter and we have countless months of
coldness ahead.
RC 4-1-23
Another day, another
mood change. I think my brain is suffering from the lack of oxygen brought
about by the coughing and the lack of sleep.
I'm pretty convinced that I've had Covid. It seems to be everywhere at the
moment, and the way I've been feeling this past week seems very reminiscent of my
previous Covid experiences. I did test at the end of last week, but I'm not
sure the old tests necessarily recognise the newer variants, so it may have
been a false negative. And I definitely had a temperature for a couple of days,
and I've been coughing and lethargic since, so I'm guessing it's more of a
coronavirus than an influenza one. But what do I know?
The main point is, I'm feeling very sorry for myself, and I'm finding it very
hard not to feel even more sorry for myself. I'm sore, I'm tired, I'm
pissed off, I feel victimised and violated and I'm sick of coughing up the
insides of my own lungs. I'm also sick of having no energy and feeling like I'm
not breathing properly. I'm annoyed that I couldn't have the Christmas I wanted
and I feel guilty about stopping Philippa sleeping because I can't seem to stay
healthy enough to have a peaceful night's sleep.
I am not, to be frank, a happy Rory today.
RC 3-1-24
Having
spent yesterday morning wondering whether I could even be bothered to blog
anymore, I am now considering the possibility of posting EVERY DAY in 2024... I
am nothing if not inconsistent in my enthusiasm.
I
don't really mean every day of the year, of course, as I think my efforts would
be watered down and not worth reading. Quality, not quantity, and all that. But
I am aware that one of the challenges that I've considered several times and
never gotten around to achieving is to post something every day in one
particular calendar month. It feels, and sounds, like it should be easily
achievable, and yet somehow I have never got round to doing it. I've come
pretty close a couple of times, but it's still an unfulfilled ambition and a
burning desire. So maybe this is the year? February would seem to be the
obvious month to target, being shorter than its contemporaries, but I might
forget about the idea by then, so why not give it a go in January? I mean -
this is two in the first two days, so I've given myself a good start...
In
other news, I am still coughing like a dying walrus. I do wonder just how much
phlegm one person is able to produce before he simply dehydrates and withers
away to nothingness. I'm not sure that the antibiotics are doing what they are
supposed to, but I'm also worried about what might happen when I stop taking
them tomorrow. I had an occasion once (at uni, I think, when I wasn't exactly living
a life full of vitamins and self-care) where a bad throat infection was being
barely held at arm's length by amoxycillin, and two days after the course
ended, I was back at the doctors with a temperature, and tonsils that were so
swollen they were almost touching.
"Hmmm,
we didn't quite get it all, did we?" spoke the doctor, before prescribing
me another two weeks-worth of drugs that tore exhausted me and tore my digestive
tract to shreds.
Ah,
memories...
RC 2-1-23
Into
another year of blogging then. It's been the annual fight with myself and my
enthusiasm to decide whether I can actually be bothered to keep this thing
going into yet another calendar year.
And
yet, here I am.
I
suppose (good for me, but bad for you) that this does give me an outlet for my
darkest thoughts and weirdest wonderments, and that spilling them here stops me
forcing them upon the wider general public while I'm out and about in my daily
life.
And
it does give me a little thrill when I access The Chesworth Chronicles online
and see YET ANOTHER year on the list of those available to look at.
So,
I suppose what I'm saying is, I'm going to carry on.
My
New Year's Eve was a bit of a non-event, so I hope you weren't expecting to
read tales of drunken debauchery and sexual shenanigans because they just
didn't happen. It was tiredness, a few snacks, lemon and ginger tea and saying
goodnight to Philippa just after 10 because she was exhausted and wanted a
sensible bedtime. She's had to do rather a lot of extra parenting over the past
week because my lovely chest infection thing really did knock me out at times. I'm
determined to have a replacement Christmas later in January, to make up for
this shitshow of a week that I've been inflicting on everyone around me. I
mean, to be fair, it's not as if I completely ruined everything, and I was able
to actively participate throughout, but I couldn't give it my all and I
couldn't enjoy everything that was on offer, so why not give it another go in
another few weeks and help pass the Winter coldness with a rerun?
Exactly....
RC 1-1-24
