'Weather forecast for tonight: dark'

God, I hat all this darkness and rain - depresses the sh7t out of me, so it does.

No real revelation there. I feel like this winter has been darker and more dreary than the last one. I wake up in semi darkness and four days a week make my way into an equally dreary office. Plug myself into a computer and subject myself to the daily stream of management propaganda and obsession with targets. Only cheap coffee and lunchtime exercise get me through the day. It'd be that or gin, if I was honest.

Its good in a way though. I seem to have internalised a three times a week exercise routine. My weights bench (£100 from Argos, a purchase I cannot recommend enough) is now in Ellen's loft. So much more convenient, as I only have to venture up a ladder now - instead of the trudge through the garden I used to do from my living cubicle in Surbiton. Really enjoying the creature comforts now, central heating, a varied diet, a comfortable bed with a warm body to sleep with in it.. my bachelor life seems spartan and soulless in comparison. Nowadays I have a house to roam about, a television to watch and so many pleasures to enjoy. Feel almost like a king compared to my former self.

For the first time I feel like I can plan for the future too. With a young man to look after, and the potential for another on the horizon I want to be able to be my best for those around me. Searching for money making schemes on the Internet a couple of months ago I came across something called 'stoozing' (look it up). After one month of my stoozing project I expected my first interest payment: '100 quid maybe,' I thought.. 'but lets be realistic, say £40...' Logging onto my ING direct account today I discovered the size of my first payout, the princely sum of... £5.14.. Wooohh! Yeah!!

Lets hope month 2 will bring a little more into the coffers..

On a similar note, Ive been following the gold and silver prices in the last 6 months after making a few purchases. If you can afford it. PLEASE.BUY.SOME.PRECIOUS.METALS! Gold has just breached 1,200 dollars per ounce and silver is fast approaching 20. They will go alot higher so pick some up if you can.

Till Next Time, Alex

'Hat? Check! Shades? Check! Harmonica?....'

Time for one of my occasional social trips out and about. It was my friend Simon's 30th birthday. Venue: unimportant. Theme: 80s fancy dress. And what glorious fancy dress it was! Luckily, a fancy dress shop has popped up near to my home, undoubtedly catering to student revellers, but very handy nonetheless.

All the usual choices (Darth Vader/ Scooby Doo/ He-Man) seemed promising, if a little pricy. But it'd need large amounts of alcohol to get me out the door. So, I opted for the cheap and easy ('and conservative' as Ellen intoned) option of being one of the Blues Brothers. Hat, sunnies, skinny tie and harmonica: 10 pounds all in. Nice! And, as an added bonus, I wouldn't feel like a penis riding down to Guildford on the train!

We arrived at the venue 10 minutes before the main partygoers. Will never forget the sight of them marching down the alley to reach the venue entrance below me - it looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland. Here are some of the pictures of the outfits concerned. My friends and I dressed in bright finery like the peacocks we all aspire to be.. ;)

I love how Simon skulks in the back of shot looking like something out of 'Alien'.. oh and yes, Harry bought exactly the same Blues Brothers 'outfit' as I did.. before you ask...

Simon as a Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle with Ellen. Simply the most wondrous fancy dress costume I've ever seen.
Check out my extra long right arm!

Mark as a Ghostbuster, with proton pack. He seemed a little miffed his outfit was not the grey of the movies. Maybe it's their away kit or something. I look like some sort of blind, Mafia jazz musician.

Feelin Blue for a Friend

More vagueness I’m afraid. I’ve written truthful and honest comments in blogs gone by and got in trouble with them so apologies about the lack of clarity. Again.

Working for The Man as I do is a thankless task. It is the people who sit beside me who make it worthwhile. ‘D’ is a case in point. His crude levity is infectious, and he’s the only person who has ever made me cry with laughter at work. A unique occurrence, I’m sure you’d a agree..

‘D’ is the geezer with a heart gold. Behind the chipper manliness lies a surprisingly deep exterior. He’s a guy who takes the lighter approach to life, often floating along on a cloud of bonhomie that people cannot help but warm to. Such a demeanour often gets the attention of the ladies and ‘D’ has had many office successes apparently. Of course, a gentleman never tells so he kept ‘em quiet. Until, that is, the fragrant ‘H’ walked through the door. Bubbly, pretty and with a fine figure, how the men’s heads were turned! Some of the single lads tried their luck and failed miserably before ‘D’ came under the radar and got the girl!

How happy he was. Despite his blokeish bluster it seemed he seemed keen to settle down. The 3am sessions were curtailed and the simmering levels of testosterone abated. ‘H’ moved in, ‘D’ was the Lord of the Manor and regularly getting some action. He had arrived and become the man he seemingly craved to be.

Things got even better! I remember the day he told me ‘H’ was expecting. Sitting at his desk with a broad grin and legs wide open – a statement of macho fertility. They hadn’t really been trying but hadn’t NOT being trying either. Either way ‘D’ was in top form, he had the girl, he had the house and he would soon be having the little one to go with it. So life was looking pretty peachy from where I was sitting.

So the days and weeks went by. ‘H’ had the bump and the glow to go with it whilst ‘D’ was showing off his baby scan pics to interested parties. However things changed, ‘H’ was in less and less, she was signed off work and gradually ‘D’s cheery countenance just wilted. Gone was his banter and cocky strut, replaced by a blank stare and slumped shoulders.. something was obviously up.

Yesterday, a full story of sorts arose. ‘D’ and ‘H’ had gone their separate ways and the former was gutted. Word was that ‘H’ had been a little Machiavellian in her approach but ‘D’ was in pieces. All his dreams were shattered – no more visions of the family sitting round him at Xmas, loving wife and children nearby. He was alone again and I feel terrible for him. He’d escaped from his previous hedonistic lifestyle and seemed to be revelling in making the next step in life. He’s now back to single life, but with an estranged e-partner in the mix and a baby on the way too. I’ve discovered how rewarding a family life (of sorts) can be, to have it the prospect of it waved around in front of you and then cruelly withdrawn must be the most gruelling of blows.

And what follow in its place? Fleeting visits with an indifferent son or daughter every other weekend? A belligerent ex-partner and the inevitable power games that follow? That' ll be even more painful in the long term I reckon…

Huh????!!!

Ever have those moments when the brain will just not function the way you want it? I’m not talking due to tiredness or overindulgence here. Im talking about when things.. just..don’t work properly. Day to day interactions become a chore and the mind shows the equivalent of the TV test card. Used to be a regular problem for me as a kid. My parents would often be required to give me a nudge in polite company to bring my mind back from the rambling mental journeys it would take. Still happens from time to time nowadays, especially after going for a run. Ellen sees the faroff look in my eyes and asks worriedly ‘Are You Alright?’. Must look like I’m stoned or something..

Still, Ive kept most of these senior moments at bay in recent years. Must be a legacy of my laid-back demeanour or something. Stress does not come knocking very often so I guess that my mental spark might take longer to come into being sometimes. At least that’s what I’m thinking. If all that adolescent smoking caused lasting damage I wont be happy.

You know the feeling. During face to face communication the mind starts to wander like a balloon floating on the breeze. For me it can take a tremendous act of will to nail that bugger down and keep focused on the matter at hand. Caffeine has been an ally in many cases, keeping my mind ticking over in an orderly fashion. However, I can’t go walking about trailing an IV on my arm forever and my de-caffineated state doesn’t always win favour. Case in point my evening with our terribly organised and no-nonsense chiropractor in the gym. She rattled through her price structure twice with me and my colleague but the figures just would not stick. Queue much frustration from her and much sheepishness from yours truly. Its interesting, she used to be a Major in the British Army (at the age of 29!) where being the mental equivalent of Fred Astaire is compulsory. I, on the other hand, am more mountain goat than skilled hoofer.

And that’s a problem. My serene mental state sails along unhurriedly whereas it needs to be more punchy at times. I don’t have to mix it with business-like former military sorts the whole of my life, but it’d be nice to thrive in their company if I had to.

Tough Week

More Autumn brightness. Will miss it when its gone.

Dusted off my going out boots for an evening with Jacob. Jeez, just cant take the drink like I used to be able to. Four large house (read 'cheap') red wines later I set off from Waterloo back home to my bed. The welcoming party next morning took the shape of a monumental hangover. The full works, sweats, headaches and turgid, rolling stomach - something had to give. And give it did, after subjecting the toilet to the most horrid pebbledashing my guts finally revolted and relieved me of my breakfast Shreddies. Gotta give up this drinking lark, I reckon...

Lucky Patch was delayed by British Rail on his visit up to see me. By the time we met my demeanour was a little more even. However, Patch was in animated conversation with a close mutual friend on the telephone who sounded in a bad way. So bad, infact, we decided to get on a train to go down to visit him. On the journey down, Patch cheerfully informed me that cheap red wine contains large amounts of ethanol which can magnify a hangover's impact, my digestive system quacked away in merry agreement whilst he spoke..

We arrived in the town where our friend had ended up. And Christ is it a dump. My first thought was 'You're down in the dumps, miles away from your friends and family and stuck here!!??' If there is a town which will leach away your will to live it's this one. Fast food wrappings idly floating down the streets, bands of beady eyed crows on the scrounge and rodent faced young teens - it's enough to make your heart sink. Our friend arrived to meet us soon after, pale faced and with a pained expression. Any composure he had broke as soon as I gave him a hug and the tears came. The story followed: he'd had enough, his life didnt matter and noone would miss him. Despite our best (and increasingly frustrated) persuasion he still would not budge. Between tears and surreal bonhomie he bounced but still held firm. I was at a loss, but Patch phoned up an ambulance which came down. After a brief chat the medics drove the two of them off to hospital, I made my way by train and arrived at A&E about an hour later.

We waited in the observation area for a couple of hours, my friend was rational and calm now but still of the same mindset he'd been before. He requested we sit in with his consultation with the Casualty doctor who listened to his predicament with clinical detachment. By 10.50 it transpired a consultant was on his way for a more detailed chat, our friend seemed to have gained a slightly more positive perspective and he sent us home. I finally got to my own bed at just before 2am feeling tired, but relieved that our friend had made the right move. I'm full of admiration for Patch making the call to summon help, as without that I reckon the news would've been so much darker.

Two days later it was back to Newlands Corner for my monthly visit with Mum. She was distracted with other health issues, one of which was a late night visit to A&E after a bleed. The doctors were a little too candid for my liking, touting words like 'cancer' a little too freely and it had obviously hit her hard. She spoke about 'cheating death' and of her mother and sister who both succumbed to the ilness in the last 15 years. It felt like we parted company without our usual warmth and empathy - she with a forthcoming scan to focus on and me dreading the start of a possible decline. It's funny, you expect your parents to be a tower of strength in the early years of your life but eventually they disabuse you of that notion. She is an incredibly strong woman who seems to have shrugged off adversity in the past - I fear it will become so much harder if she doesnt have the support she deserves.

UPDATE: Not the Big C for Mum. She has something called a polyp in her womb which the hospital will biopsy very soon. Till now I'd believed that polyps grew on coral reefs so I obviously need to educate myself. We are relieved for the moment, a further scan to determine whether it is benign or malignant will follow. Our friend is staying with his family in the West Country, he sent me a couple of texts stating things were getting easier and I'm thrilled. Have known him since the age of sixteen and the prospect of him finding peace reassures me greatly.

Nokia N86 upgrade - 8megs of digital glory...

High tide floods the towpath at Barnes Bridge, early October 2009. Bright blue skies and warm autumnal sunshine continue to suprise. I'm sure the cold and the dark will be on its way though..

Xander. He continues to amuse, bemuse and warm my heart in equal measure.

Moan, moan, moan

Caught between the horns of a particularly insistent dilemma at the moment.

My life over the last couple 18 months has been enriched beyond range and measure. The two people who have come into my life have made it worth living, but at a cost. The dissatisfaction with the rest of my life has come into sharper focus. Not wanting to unload on my blog, Ill try to retain a certain amount of humour here. It’s just that during my office hours I sit in at a desk feeling my will to live dissipate and float out the window sometimes. Humour can be a salve, but it really isn’t soothing like it once did.

Working in the gym still stretches and stimulates me. Gives me happiness and hope. But being stuck in a job where the principle motivation is a free supply of tea and coffee makes me think something needs to be done… my day to day existence is just so inane! Of course the more positive thinker would rightfully tell me to buck my ideas up and be more constructive with my time. Problem is my office time has simply become so banal, I’ve just given up on it. My team mask is slipping and the notion of ‘playing the game’ at work is swiftly becoming an anathema. I sit here, my bonhomie slowly fragmenting and my true apathetic countenance being revealed slowly underneath. I listen to my work colleagues conversation on topics like ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ and the latest entertainment news with apathy verging on despair. How much longer will I submit myself to the mediocrity of this 9-5? Having a 20 minute commute and a comfy paycheck lessens the blow significantly but my achievements and growth here do not amount to much. Frankly the last three years of my work life make me feel pretty inadequate. Before Ellen and Xander turned up, this didn’t really matter, I just muddled through on a combination of good humour and compassion. Today this approach seems risible, I’m 32 years old and working in a job with routine and no responsibility. Feel I owe it to myself and to those I love. As without them in my life, it really doesn’t amount to much.

So what am I doing? Well, Im cramming as much stuff into my life as possible to counter the mediocrity of my daily grind. There are so many aspects of my life that I need to work on to make myself a better person, but there are is just not enough time to squeeze them all in. Once in a while I get my running shoes on and pound the pavement or have a workout. Both of which give me a remarkable sense of tranquility. Other times I hanker after a smoke or a bottle of gin (with mixer, natch) and to indulge in a real ‘sod ‘em all’ moment. Thankfully I don’t gratify those whims, all my pleasures seem to be more on the virtuous side.

Still, I worry. I don’t want to antagonise my nearest and dearest by chasing the dream of being a better man. But at the same time, what do I whilst my joie de vivre slowly dissipates?