I had an interesting chat with one of our visitors today. He's the same age as me and he's brought his family down from Burnley, where he runs his own company.
We were chatting about management styles and he said, "the thing I always try to remember is this - you have to be prepared for the fact that, one day, half a million eggs might come rolling across the field to attack you. If you've got a plan in place for that, you can deal with anything else life throws at you. "
RC 27-5-26
Well what a day we had yesterday. An elderly
woman with heatstroke, an unexpected power cut in the restaurant and a broken
down van that blocked the main entrance, and I swear that all happened during
my lunch hour! Throw into that a fourth successive day of high temperatures, a
tired mind after a night of insomnia and an early morning with an irritable
son, and it made for quite the Monday Experience!
But hey, we got through it, and we start again on a fresh day with a fresh set
of hours to contend with.
I have to say that, despite the complications arising from the sudden surge, I
am absolutely loving the warmer weather. Getting to wear thin, short-sleeved
shirts without any fear of a cold back or stiff neck is wonderful, and seeing
the smiles on faces again, rather than the hunched shoulders as people huddle
to hide from the chill, really lightens my mood. There were some tough times
there, mentally, in the 'Spring' months of March and April, but all that is
forgotten now as I wake up in sunshine, walk to my car with sunglasses on, and
get to drive to work with the windows down! Well - most of it is
forgotten now. There are still a few residual cobwebs of darkness, so please
let us have another 5 months of this weather please, and then it will
all be forgotten.
RC 26-5-26
Do you think I created the world so you could
fight over it?
Crazy
to think that the last time we were getting the boys ready for a family day
out, we were packing extra coats and a blanket. Today it's sun cream, hats and
lots of water. And it's only two weeks later!
What annoys me about this lovely little spell of Summer (and I promise this is
the only negative) is that the second it was reported that we would have nice
weather, there had to be an announcement about a Heat Warning. Why can't they
let us just enjoy the rare bit of heat when we get it? Why does there have to
be some patronising, nanny-state infodump about staying in the shade and
keeping hydrated? Honestly, there are times this country makes me want to
staple my foreskin to a tree with embarrassment. Which is exactly why Philippa
and I are actively looking into the idea of moving abroad.
But more on that later.
To compensate for my moaning, here's a few things I am ULTRA happy about right
now:
It's half-term, so my boys have a break from schooling.
My work is hard, but it's FUN. It's about helping other people to have FUN, and
that's FUN.
The new series of SpringWatch starts tomorrow!
It won't be dark at teatime for months yet.
The sea will soon be warm enough to swim in, and for the boys to play in.
I live in a beautiful area that is even more beautiful at this time of year.
I am still hopelessly in love, despite being with my wife for over a decade now.
We are about to have a lovely family day out in the sun, including a picnic!!!
RC 24-5-26
Another
half-term is upon us and I'm already exhausted!
Yesterday I had to spend a day walking around the site with Gavin and an
overweight contractor, as Gavin's latest obsession is the idea of installing
'high ropes' equipment, and obviously the ideal time to be discussing that with
me is on the day that most English schools break up for a week and we're
literally on the cusp of a huge influx of people.
Anyway, let us not dwell on such things.
It's incredibly hot, everything (he says, with fingers firmly crossed and wood
firmly touched) is ready to go, and for the next 7 days we will be at full
capacity, and then some. The atmosphere is one of quiet anticipation, mixed
with a gentle dose of nerves. Part of me has the pre-lockdown pandemic feeling,
where I know something big is about to hit us and I'm not sure how to prepare
myself. But mostly, I think I'm just overwhelmed with the realisation that this
is where the work starts in earnest. From today, until the end of October, it's
pretty much a full-on slog. 'Weekends' will be a thing of the past and I'll be juggling
family time with work commitments and struggling to find the balance.
There you go, I've accidentally stumbled onto a great title for my memoirs - "Juggling
and Struggling (The Rory Story)"
RC 23-5-26
I swear this came to me in a dream - I'm going
to put together an all-girl Beatles tribute act, and their first album of
covers will be called 'REVULVA'.
RC 22-5-26
I
don't know whether this is just a joyous coincidence, or whether Philippa read
yesterday's blog posting and decided to treat me a little, but this morning, my
wife started wearing a new perfume that contains 'a hint of blackcurrant and
elderflower'. As you can imagine, this has driven my brain a little bit crazy.
She brushed past me in the kitchen and my senses exploded with delight and
excitement. When she kissed me goodbye, I almost squirted an entire generation
of potential Chesworth offspring into my undershorts. If you see what I'm
saying...
On a less unpleasant note, I have managed to dissuade Gavin (my boss) from a ridiculous
team-building exercise idea where he wanted to take loads of us out to sea on a
high-speed boat to try and 'learn the Suffolk coastline from the water'. He
seemed to think that our understanding of our local area would be improved if
we took an expensive trip with some fishermen and 'got to view our county as
the Vikings would have'. I honestly wonder sometimes what the Hell is wrong
with him, but at least I'm slowly learning how to talk him out of these things.
In other news, we have a group staying with us this week who are from a specialist
special needs school in Lincolnshire. They've been amazing. We've had to make a
few adjustments to things to accommodate them and to give them the activities
they wanted, but the staff are delighted with our efforts, and all the children
are amazing. I don't need reminders that I am incredibly fortunate to have
children with no disabilities or limitations on their lives, but sometimes it's
nice to get those reminders anyway.
RC 21-5-26
I
have fallen heavily in love with blackcurrant squash. Odd thing to write about,
I know, but it's become my go-to drink of choice, and I just can't get enough
of it. Refreshing, thirst-quenching, and reminiscent of a youth spent living
with a mother who thought Ribena was the answer to all illnesses. It's also a
lot better for me than the Strawberries and Cream Pepsi that I was a bit
obsessed with for a while, and almost certainly mentioned on this very blogsite.
That stuff was all full of artificial flavours, unnatural sweeteners and caffeine,
not to mention being carbonated to the point of causing carnage in my stomach. The
squash that I have become enamoured with is, apparently, made with genuine juice
from genuine blackcurrants, which is probably why one bottle costs the same as
a meal for four at a restaurant. But it's lovely, and right now I cannot
imagine a time in my life when I won't be drinking pints of it every day. Which
is the way my mind works, of course. The chances are that by the end of June
I'll be sick of it and will be lamenting the fact that I've filled three
cupboards with it at home while already composing a posting about my new
favourite drink of choice, which will be some kind of unusual milkshake or a
cocktail.
Right now, though, it's blackcurrant all the way, baby.
RC 20-5-26
This morning I had a bowl of nuts, dried fruit,
seeds and yoghurt. For lunch, I bought myself a mixed salad with grilled
chicken breast, and tonight I am planning a stir fry with lots of asparagus,
kale, mushrooms, peppers and onions. My bowels may react with urgency and intolerance,
but at least I'll have exorcised the demons of the Sunday sausages.
RC 19-5-26
I know I mentioned them earlier this week, but I
can't say enough good things about the Mongolian band 'The Hu'. I must have
played their first album 'The Gereg' twenty times or more in the past week or
so. I have no idea what the Hell they are singing about, but it doesn't matter.
In fact, I think that if I brought up an English translation of the words, it
would ruin the whole effect for me. The lack of understanding of the lyrics
just means I can get swept up in the sound of the voices, and my God, what a
sound it is. It's like listening to Buddhist chants performed by Metallica. And
the production on every song is spectacular. I honestly don't think I'm going
to hear another album this year that comes close to taking the title of my
'Favourite of 2026' so we might as well close the doors on that one right now.
Although... I haven't even listened to their second album yet! So that might be
a contender!
In other news, I have been contacted online by someone to see if I would be
interested in going to a High School Reunion.
I would not.
There's a reason I haven't kept in contact with anyone from my school days, or
tried to seek them out through social media. I literally cannot think of
anything worse than being thrown back together with the people I was educated
with from the ages of 12 to 16. I would rather be subjected to a year-long,
non-stop, full-volume listening of Abba's Greatest Hits. I would rather be forced
to sit on a piss-soaked, sweat-smelling, overcrowded London Underground train
for 48 hours straight. I would rather endure a series of painful visits to an
underqualified and underexperienced dental hygienist. I would rather have to
clean up behind a busload of pensioners with dysentery, who have just been out
for a lamb bhuna, which wasn't cooked properly. I would rather have to sleep
outside all Winter in a sleeping bag full of ice cubes.
In OTHER news, Philippa might be leaving work at the doctors surgery soon, as
she seems to be getting enough massage clients that she may be able to try it
full-time. Which is incredibly exciting, and awe-inspiring, and absolutely
fills me with pride. She's amazing.
RC 15-5-26
I may be a bit late in getting in on this, but
Sir David Attenborough hit his centenary birthday last week, and quite rightly,
the world has gone a bit over-the-top with their praise, gratitude and
platitudes. I'm not even sure how you can begin to say how influential,
important, inspiring and intellectually important he has been. I suppose the simplest
way to put it is this - in most English-speaking countries in the world, if you
play a clip of his voice, people will know who he is. And for anyone who has
ever been interested in the Natural World, or the making of documentaries, or the
best way to broadcast, or how to run a TV station, or effective methods of education,
then he has to be up there as a person to aspire to, and will almost certainly
have helped pushed you in the direction that your life has taken. Has there
been any programme about animals that is worth mentioning that didn't involve
him? Has there been anyone in entertainment who has maintained their position
as the number one exponent of his chosen field for so long? He's ONE HUNDRED
YEARS OLD, for God's sake, and he would still be the voice that 99% of
producers would want to have associated with their show. I remember the BBC
trying to phase him out a bit - whether because he wanted to ease up and retire
or not, I don't know - and the programmes that were narrated by the likes of
David Tennant, Sean Pertwee, or the others that they tried to get the public to
accept as 'The New Voice of Nature' simply didn't land as well. He is, genuinely,
unique. There will never be another person, in any field I suspect, who will
last so long, achieve so much, and maintain such high standards.
I hope he goes on for many more years, and I hope he understands just what a
giant he is.
RC 14-5-26
You may have noticed that I've been wallowing under
the influence of The Dark Bastard in recent weeks. (For any newer readers -
'The Dark Bastard' is the name I give to the depressive/insomniac/self-loathing
part of me that takes control of my thoughts occasionally). I've tried to do
the right things - eat properly, sleep properly, do things I know I enjoy, exercise,
drink lots of water, avoid caffeine, limit alcohol, etc - but it's been a spell
that seemed determined to dig its claws in and hold me to the ground as much as
possible.
The thing that seems to have pushed it away a bit is music! And not terrible,
low-mood, 'let's all feel shit together', written from a point of angst stuff,
but really rocking uplifting happy bouncy silly songs that I might normally shy
away from. Hard rock, thrash, even weird old 60s trippy numbers have been added
to my playlist as I drive along with sounds booming out, or sit in my office
with them playing happily in the background. It all helps. My favourite discovery,
by far, is the music of The Hu. I honestly don't know how to describe them, other
than to say 'a weird fusion of psychedelia, Mongoloan throat singing and heavy
rock'. They have great melodies and a unique sound and are - (forgive me for
dropping into base vernacular English) - f**king amazing. They may have saved
me from a much longer languishing of darkness within myself simply by being so
brilliantly ridiculous, and ridiculously brilliant.
RC 13-5-26
I
actually had a tune in my head for these lyrics, but I can't work out how to
play it on any of the instruments I tinker with. I also can't seem to get back
into the same frame of mind that I had when I first started writing it, so I
can't seem to add to it or improve it. So I thought I'd dump it on here, as it
is, as 'a poem' and see if I can make something more of it later...
The
bluest eyes I've ever seen
Were
nestled in a beauty queen
We
hooked up in a limousine
She
helped to set me free
She
was booked to do a fashion show
So
caught a flight to Tokyo
and
as I watched her turn to go
I
knew we'd never be
On
the plane to sunny Spain
We
found each other yet again
She
pulled me forward out of pain
And
sent me back to us
Somewhere
up Chicago way
She
came and took my breath away
I
feel in deep but couldn't stay
and
left without a fuss
Sometimes
doubts can come on strong
If
it feels right I must be wrong
I
know it won't be very long
Before
I choose to bail
Now
I know I'm past my prime
Everything
that feels sublime
Can
only last a little time
and
then it starts to fail
RC 12-5-26
A
vast expanse of nothing, streaked with clouds
An unseen joy, ignored by most below
The earth beneath, it covers and it shrouds
Reminding us how little yet we know
A haze of blue, a dance of mellow white
An ever changing litany of hues
It has no form, exists of air and light
And yet, so much emotion it imbues
Providing link betwixt the land and space
A home for storms, for butterflies and birds
And though it often hides the lunar face
It germinates ideas; inspires words
So when our time on earth seems dark and tough
Remember we do not look up enough
RC 11-5-26
Ok, well, I'm back.
Instead of making excuses for not posting for a week, I shall just refer you
back to the other times I have missed several days in a row without writing
anything, and ask you to read whatever I produced by way of apology or
explanation. I'm pretty sure the exact same thing will apply here.
To give myself a bit of credit, I haven't been completely lazy. I have actually
got into writing some poetry again, for the first time in ages, so that's been
nice. I might share them with you, over the next few days, just to prove to you
that I've been productive in the time we've been apart.
I wonder, as I'm sure I've wondered before, whether the lack of blog-writing
has helped to fuel the poem production. Maybe I only have a limited number of creative
cells in my body, and if they're being used in one field, there's nothing left
for anything else. So the act of posting something regularly prevents me from
creating something that might be more worthy of being posted.
Or maybe I just overthink things...
RC 10-5-26
For thousands of years you have been in our sky
You would have distracted my ancestor's eye
For travellers weary and troubled at night
You glisten and glow and reflect the sun's light
For all disappointments that fall in our cup
You give us a reason to cast out eyes up
For all of our futures of worries and woe
You make us feel safe and with somewhere to go
RC 4-5-26
Well
a new month has started without any major problems.
Not sure why I wanted to start today's blog posting like that, but I've done it
now.
My
sexy new cards have arrived and they are gorgeous! I'm very impressed with how
quickly they arrived, and I have to say the designs are stunning. So artistic
and so aesthetically pleasing. And the way they move through your hands while
shuffling and dealing are like handling liquid velvet, in card form. (if you
see what I mean).
You would think that one pack of cards would be pretty
much the same as any other, but my God these are like working with a completely
different product. It's like reading a cheap newspaper and then handling a
leather-bound volume of Dickens; or it's like holding a slice of cheap
supermarket burger cheese and then getting your hands on a wheel of roquefort;
or it's like dancing with a clumsy, drunk, overweight madman and then getting
to work with Ginger Rogers; or like licking a stagnant puddle and then licking
a bowl of ice cream; or like licking the top of a 9V battery and then being
hooked directly into the electricity mains; or like laying on a bedsheet made
of polyester and then sleeping in Egyptian cotton.
Well, you get the idea...
(Just don't tell Philippa how much they cost me...)
RC 1-5-26
I
woke up this morning with the sudden realisation that there were several things
I was supposed to have done by the end of the month, which still remain
unfinished. I mean, don't worry, it's not as if I've forgotten to order vital
medication for dying children, or neglected to clean the safety valves on a
nuclear reactor or something, so there will be no serious ramifications from my
lack of actions. But it's a big indicator of how my mind has been working
recently. Which is to say - it hasn't. Things that normally get done
without reminders have failed to pop into my thoughts, and tasks that normally
feel easy and quick have become cumbersome and time-consuming. And that bothers
me. I would like to blame overtiredness and end-of-Summer fatigue, but
unfortunately neither of those things are applying. So it's back to my old
fears of depression, early onset dementia, or a brain tumour. And I think we
know which of those is the most likely explanation...
RC 30-4-26
Before I go any further, I would just like to
add a little afterthought to Monday's blog posting. It strikes me that, were I
ever to be adopted by a Native American tribe in a 'Dances With Wolves' style
storyline, then 'Black Cloud' would be a great name for me to be given.
Having said that, I do feel slightly perkier today. I ate very, very healthily
yesterday, restricted my caffeine intake and avoided sugary stuff as much as
possible. As a result (possibly, assuming it's not just a coincidence) I am
less anxious and less depressed. So maybe my whole 'mental health' issue can be
alleviated by turning my back on indulgent unhealthy food stuffs and giving my
body what it needs nutritionally.
RC 29-4-26
I have been struggling with things over the past
few days, I must confess. There is no particular reason why, I just seem to be
mired in my own thoughts and finding everything ten times more difficult to do
than normal. I'm always going to be honest about this stuff, as too many people
put on masks that hide what they're truly going through, and if me being honest
inspires someone else to be honest when they're having a rough time, then
that's great. So here I am - surrounded by sunshine, bathed in warmth, doing a
job I love, father to two incredible boys, and with a supportive wife who is
somehow with me despite being the most amazing woman I have ever met and far
out of my league - and yet I'm still feeling crap. Mental health is a curious
thing, and I've studied it lots and I've spoken to experts and I've chatted
with lots of long-term sufferers and still I can't even begin to get one per
cent of my head around it. Why do some people feel the same way every day with
barely any change to their mood, whilst others can be extremely up and down as
often as they're feeling stable? Why can some people deal with cancer with
barely a drop in their hopefulness, while others can pick up Covid and sink
into a 3-week despair? Why can I go months on end without finding anything difficult,
and then suddenly have a 3-day spell where putting on a pair of socks takes every
inch of mental effort I can muster? Is it, as suspected, the pace of the modern
world and our inability as cavemen to cope with the onset of technology? Are
there too many people to compare ourselves to and therefore more opportunities
for self-criticism? Are we obsessed with happiness and contentment these days,
and any moment where we don't feel we are 'living our best life' we are going
to feel unfulfilled and worthless?
I don't know. But I do know that trying to work this stuff out is just adding darkness
into an already dark mood. The more I think about it, and the more I try to
think my way out of it, the more my thoughts are stuck in it and the longer it
tends to go on, and the deeper I'm likely to sink. Past experiences of this
kind tell me that I need to accept it and relax into it, and let it pass. Which
it will. And in the meantime, I can be good to myself by drinking lots of
water, eating well, getting on with what's in front of me, keeping it in the
moment, and doing the things I know I enjoy.
So I am now going to put on one of my favourite movie soundtracks and get on
with writing some reports.
RC 27-4-26
I
cast aside a book I see
that centres on philosophy
and read instead a diary
with every page a memory
that links the past to you and me
and our intended prophecy
of endless times of being 'we'
I notice, with each page I turn
that once I've satisfied a yearn
my heart performs a swift U-turn
a kind of hatred starts to churn
I cast aside the love I earn
the things I have, I tend to burn
I wonder if I'll ever learn?
My book of life is filled with days
of failing in a million ways
existing in amongst the strays
ignoring all the work that pays
hating music as it plays
thinking that the world betrays.
I must accept it as it lays...
RC 25-4-26
We have a busy few days ahead at work. Unusually
for us, we have a big, block booking: from a large group of religious fanatics
from Shropshire. Sorry, let me rephrase that - 'religious fanatics' has certain
connotations and might put a certain negative image in your head, so let me say
instead that we have a large group of devotees descending upon us.
Although, to be fair, I do get the impression that this lot might be a touch on
the fanatical side. I can't quite work out which denomination they are
affiliated with; it seems to be more in the realms of astrology, wicca and the
occult. They've asked for exclusive use of one of the ballrooms, they want the
windows covered by dark curtains, and they're bringing their own chefs (and
happily paying us to allow them to use the kitchen). All very odd, but nothing
too worrying. I do have a slight uneasy feeling though that once we get them
here they might be difficult to deal with, and possibly even difficult to get
rid of. There's just something about the guy I've been communicating with that
makes me think he could be the sort to take over everything and tell me how to
do my job.
Oh, Good Lord, I've just realised something! A while ago, I joked about
starting a cult on the site and barricading ourselves in against the outside
world. Is my fantasy becoming reality? Is my foolishness about to be revealed
as a premonition?
Am I a prophet????
RC 24-4-26
As it's the day of our patron saint here in England,
I thought I would help out those of you who are unfamiliar with him by writing
a brief (and fictionalised) account of his life:
Born on 23rd April 1077, he was named George Aristotle Benevolent by his loving
parents, who had been completely surprised by his birth, thinking the pregnancy
was just a weird case of stomach gout. He could read by the age of two, which
is even more impressive bearing in mind there were no printed works within 250
years of him. He had a younger sister, Dorothy, who would grow up to be the
first female Pope, although it was kept quiet at the time and they pretended
she was only at the Vatican to peel bananas. When he was 10, he accidentally
stepped on a grass snake and was convinced it had sunk poisonous fangs into his
ankle. This led to his 'dark years' in which he threw himself into a debauched
lifestyle, believing he would imminently die anyway due to the venom (which he
presumably thought was very slow-acting).
He was married four times - including twice to the same woman, an
abnormally tall seamstress named Dell Twigg, who would go on to be the
inspiration for the character 'Malvolio' in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, and
who appears, in cartoon form, on the cover of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club
Band.
George only worked for three years throughout his life. He was a goat
herder on a meadow in what is now Walthamstow. The rest of his time was spent
'wandering and wondering', much to his parent's dismay, who dismissed his
claims of religious pilgrimage as 'a pile of dung to disguise his constant
laziness'. It is thought that the legend of George slaying a dragon arose from
an incident in Turkey when he accidentally sat on a wasp.
He died in poverty at the age of 47, having achieved little besides bringing
the concept of tattoos back to England from his travels in Mesopotamia.
RC 23-4-26
It
has been pointed out to me that I missed International Haiku Day last week!
So, belatedly...
A day for haiku
Here's seventeen syllables
to celebrate with
RC 22-4-26
I really don't like the pace with which the
Spring months are disappearing. Especially as they haven't been feeling like
Spring recently. It's been weird, right? For every step that you take bathed in
warm sunshine there is a moment where a biting wind cuts through you as you
walk around a corner. And we're now closer to May than March, which depresses
me. Anyway - years ago I promised never to blog about the passing of time
again, so let's move on...
I'm really getting into seeds at the moment. Eating them, I mean. I hate to
sound like I'm jumping on a hipster bandwagon and 'being kind to my gut biome'
but one of the cheaper supermarkets do these lovely packets of 'Meditteranean
Style Nuts and Seeds for Salads' that are just gorgeous. I have them sprinkled on
fruit and yoghurt as a second breakfast most mornings now. I also have them in
a drawer at work to snack on as-and-when during the day. I have also put them
between two store-bought scotch pancakes as a kind of nutty, nutritiony
sandwich, floated them on top of the foam on a luxury hot chocolate, and had
them on rice cakes with a coating of peanut butter. As you may have noticed about
me - when I really like something, I really do it to death, and when I find a
new culinary taste that thrills me, I tend to try it with everything.
RC 21-4-26
I've always been a big fan of Graham Norton as a
presenter. I think he does great interviews and has always been witty, natural
and enthusiastic. I don't watch much telly, but I'd put him in my Top 3 of TV
'personalities'.
His current stream of adverts, however, have turned me right against him. Not
only am I determined to avoid anything he appears on from this day forth, but I
am also trying to invent a way to wipe out all existence of any previous
material he has been involved in. I know celebrities can earn a ridiculous
amount of money for very little work when they sell themselves to companies,
but my God they torpedo their own credibility with me when they do it. How much
money can you really need to earn?
A question I would also ask Dame Judi Dench after her questionable foray into
the world of advertising recently...
RC 20-4-26
I've
been a fan of the band Counting Crows for years, but I've only just got round
to listening to their 2025 album "Butter Miracle - The Complete
Sweets!"
It's
now become my favourite release of last year.
Adam's
voice has never sounded better, and the lyrics are just breathtaking. Throw in
some absolutely killer melodies - in almost every song - and it's a collection that
sounds like a Greatest Hits playlist. And I love the fact that the songs are
all in different styles and are all unique. The stand-out for me is
"Virginia Through The Rain" but that's because I've always tended to
prefer the slower stuff. And the medley at the end deserves a special mention
too. A very special mention. Has anyone blended a sequence of songs
together this well since The Beatles? That might sound high praise, but I would
challenge you to provide me with better examples...
RC 19-4-26
We have a family birthday thing tonight. Not my
family - Philippa's. I've been with her for many years now and I still can't
get my head around the family tree. She seems to have more cousins than blood
cells. Comparing my family to hers is like comparing an isolated village in the
Amazon to Tokyo. She has a LOT of relatives. And most of them are based in the
local area, and most of them will be there tonight, because it's a 50th
birthday, so it's a big one. Why it's on a Friday, I don't know, but I believe
the birthday boy (I think it's a male, it might be Aunty Penelope now I think
about it...) is being taken off on holiday tomorrow, and that's a Saturday to Saturday
affair. So poor old Rory has to schlep up to North Norfolk after a busy day at
work.
I'm sure it'll be fun, and I'm sure I'll enjoy it when I'm there, but I do always
find myself a bit apprehensive before these things. Family dynamics are always
so difficult to keep up with, and I normally manage to ask about the one cousin
who is currently out of favour, or mention something to someone that it turns
out I was never supposed to have knowledge of in the first place.
So tonight my plan may be to keep my mouth shut as much as possible, unless I'm
answering a direct question or ordering a drink.
And I really hope everyone wears name tags, and that I'm given a detailed
diagram highlighting who is whom and how they relate to everyone else.
RC 17-4-26
What a week or so it's been. It's only really
sinking in now just what an inspiring, emotional, joyous few days I had over
the weekend. Artemis II, a cracking final day at the US Masters, lots of time
with my sons and a successful busy spell at work all coming together in a glorious,
awe-filled culmination of loveliness. And it was wonderful weather too.
Today, by comparison, feels almost like a non-entity.
I have no onslaught of tourists about to arrive, no last-minute schedules to
rewrite due to illness, no Moon missions to keep updated on, no major sports
events to keep track of, and both my sons are at their places of education,
being safely looked after by professionals. And I don't have a desk-deep
backlog of work to catch up on. I am in a rare state of relaxed
up-to-dated-ness.
So I'll be sitting in the sun playing 'Balatro' this afternoon. And getting
paid for it. Go me...
RC 16-4-26
I don't think there is quite as marked a
difference at work as the second week of the Easter Holidays, and the week that
follows it. We have ups and downs during the year, and we have long spells where
we're flat out and then it peters out a bit, but with Easter we go from 100%
capacity to a ghost town in the space of two days. It's bizarre. It's like
we've piloted a plane full of passengers halfway round the world, then dropped
them all out of the fuselage at the same time. Except we have many more people
than could fit on any plane in existence. And they don't parachute off
together, they slowly drift away in cars over the course of a few hours. But
hopefully, you get what I mean.
I can walk from my office all the way across the complex and only see about 12
people. Last week at this time, you couldn't take two steps without tripping
over a toddler or being asked for directions by a parent. We now just have a
few pensioners here for a Spring excursion, a couple of families who refuse to
pay the peak time prices and would rather take their kids out of school for a
week, and our permanent residents, who tend to look after themselves, unless
they're having issues.
So I can catch up with a few things and take my time getting to know a few new
members of staff who have joined us this year. I can also crack on with setting
up our Open Mic night, which Gavin is determined to make a success (well - he's
determined that he's going to make me make it a success) and which he hopes will
be established and running in time for the busy Summer months. Probably because
it would mean free entertainment. If we have locals dropping in to play for
free, he's saving himself a few quid on the budget. Tight sod.
RC 15-4-26
April is already half over. I'm not gonna dwell
on that, except to say, "Time, huh?"
Mathew has gone back to school with the enthusiasm of a turkey being asked to
walk itself into the Bernard Matthews factory. I think he enjoyed his time at
home during Easter and he's finding it hard to go back to the normal routine. I
can't blame him. I remember myself how joyous it is to have the whole day long
to do whatever you wanted, then being forced back into the classroom and
realising that by the time you get let out again, you'll be too fatigued to
enjoy the evening at home. You have a catalogue of fun things to do with your
time, but you're not allowed the freedom to indulge in them. And it's worse at
this time of year, in a way, because the day feels so much longer, but you lose
so much of it to your studies.
Is that any different to being at work though?
Most people are still on that conveyor belt of dragging themselves out of bed
to sit in traffic to reach a job that sucks their soul out of their bodies,
returning to a home they can't afford without the job they hate, to waste their
evenings recovering from the horrors of the working day. Then rinse and repeat.
When you're 7, or 10, it's lessons, rules and homework; when you're an adult it's
shifts, rules and exhaustion. The location may be different, but the mental
state is the same.
I guess the whole purpose of the education system is to institutionalise you
into a certain kind of life, and to brainwash you into thinking that that's
your only option.
On a lighter note - I've given up trying to learn card tricks or cardistry in
favour of just admiring the people who can already do it. There are thousands
of clips online, and I've decided that I'd rather spend hours enjoying the
skills of those who have already dedicated years of their time to getting good
at it, than spend years trying to get that good myself.
RC 14-4-26
One day we'll sit and talk of this
to pass the time a while
We'll snuggle up and reminisce
and look back with a smile
These early days of love and lust
are moments to enjoy
and as our bodies turn to dust
they'll blanket us with joy
Every star, each golden ray
each cuddle and caress
will be there on our final day
to ease our aches and stress
So be with me, my love, my friend
and cherish every part
For when we're closer to the end
we'll look back on this start
And every single memory
and very single kiss
Will then remind both you and me
That one day we had this
RC 13-4-26
I
have been disappointingly lax on the poetry front again, and I think it might
be down to this blogsite. Not blaming you for my laziness, you understand, but
I do find that if I commit to a month of poems here, it fires me up and
inspires me and I start noticing things I can write verses about, and getting
on with them. When I'm just churning out 'normal' posts, that inner part of me
that fuels my rhyming gets lazy. So I might just commit to an extensive output
of new poems and see if that gets me going again.
Or
maybe I'm just a 'bursts' kind of guy naturally. I'm never going to be one to
be able to sit down and produce endless streams of creative brilliance, I'm
just going to have little spells every now and then where I'm able to hit a
daily target. Maybe I need the downtimes in between to recharge my poetic
batteries and allow me some processing time within my central hard drive. Maybe
The Way Of The Rory is that I can't be contained within a certain structure or
schedule, I have to let things flow naturally, and therefore fitting this stuff
in around other stuff in my life can be constrictive. Or maybe the commitment is
exactly what is required to push me into a pattern of production.
I have no idea what I'm typing about now, so that's
another reason to concentrate more on poetry, to stifle this waffle...
RC 12-4-26
They're
back. Four explorers safely returned to the Earth after a journey of three
quarters of a million miles. Through a vacuum. The whole thing still blows me
away, but also fills me with a sense of pride that is immeasurable, at a time
when I really feel I needed it.
And
if you get, you get it, and if you don't, you don't; and I decided a long time
ago to stop trying to convert people or to dissuade them from their views. If
you want to doubt the achievement, or call it a waste of money, or believe the
many conspiracy theories, go ahead. I choose to revel in the incredible sense
of wonder that I feel every time I see one of the images, or hear one of the
astronauts voices as they explain the view from their window, or think about
the thousands of people who dedicated years of their lives to the
accomplishments of the past 10 days. It truly has been remarkable. And to be
able to follow it so closely, and in such detail, has given me a sense of
connectivity to something that I haven't felt in years. Maybe since the London
Olympics. And that ability to follow it so closely is down to technology that
only exists in the first place because of the human drive for discovery and exploration.
What a wonderful loop of awe.
And the official NASA flickr page has more than 60,000 images to get through,
so I'm going to make a start on them now. 60k+ images, all in the public
domain, because everything in this is being shared with everyone, and that's
the most amazing part of it all, I think.
I have to say, though, that the first person to speak at the official NASA
post-splashdown press conference this morning (I think his name was Ahmit?)
gave the least inspiring reading of an inspiring speech I've ever heard. Not a
criticism - just a realisation that some people are better at expressing
themselves vocally than others.
RC 11-4-26
Wow.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, the US Masters is back on our TV screens. An event
that I have always felt some kind of weird affinity towards and affection for
has somehow crept up on me unnoticed and here I sit, genuinely taken by
surprise.
I
could go into one of my oft-repeated "Time, huh?" rants here, but I'd
rather not. We all know that, despite the laws of physics, time speeds up as
soon as we hit the first of March and months fly by quicker than a bat flying
by your ear at night when you're looking up at the moon dreaming about the fact
that there are currently human beings closer to IT than to US; but that's not the
point. I think my surprise this year is as a result of me being distracted by
other things of personal importance, whereas in the past these annual landmarks
felt more significant to me. And maybe my lazy style of Buddhism is bearing
fruit a little. If you're keeping life in the current day and focusing on the
present moment, it's hard to notice things getting closer on the calendar,
right?
Or
maybe it's just dementia.
Anyway
- I have no clue on the form or recent success of any players, so I'm just
going to make a blind prediction and say that Jon Rahm will win. And that's my
final decision.
Although Rory McIlroy might retain it...
RC 10-4-26
So,
our visiting act for Bank Holiday Monday was on a bit of a loser from the start
with me, really, because I simply didn't want to be here to watch him. I wanted
to be at home with my sons, enjoying more of the Easter Weekend and trying to
be a 'normal' dad. But I have to say, despite not being a huge fan of the
music, that the guy put on a really good show. His name was Gary, and he was
from the Scottish Highlands somewhere, but he chatted to the audience in an
American accent and, as far as I remember, he really had the voice and
mannerisms down to a very high level. I was going to introduce him as 'Tofu'
(which of course is itself a substitute for a meat product) but thankfully my
inner comedy filters kicked in and persuaded me to bin that line and instead I
let one of our enthusiastic twenty-something hosts do the onstage bit on my
behalf.
It was a good night, I have to say. The place was packed, our sound system
really is a thing of wonder, and Gary did a good job of keeping the music
flowing, but keeping the crowd engaged. He was on his own, too, with everything
being played from backing tracks on a laptop. (that's the only way we could afford
him, really, I can't be booking in big touring bands with 4 or 5 members, with
our budget). What worked really well, I thought, was that he dropped the Meat
Loaf persona a bit as the second half went on, and talked as himself, sharing
stories of why he loved this music so much and why he wants to keep the songs
alive for people. So you started the evening with a full-on, in-character
tribute act but ended it singing along with a fellow fan and a real enthusiast,
who has been very open about his enthusiasm.
And he hung around afterwards to chat to people and have selfies, which is always
a nice touch.
You do meet some absolute w**kers when you're dealing with performers, so it's
a lovely change when you meet someone down-to-Earth, not up their own arseholes
and genuinely nice. So I told him we'd like to have him back again and maybe
make it an annual Easter appearance, which he was thrilled about.
RC 8-4-26