Beauty

Begging with Menace

Or............if you don't give me a treat I'll play a trick.

Get the drift of where I am going? Trick or Treat

The name is North American, possibly Canadian from some sources, and only dates from the 1950's. A related custom, called 'Souling' predates this and existed mainly in Scotland and Ireland in the 19th century. That consisted of the poorer people in a Parish being allowed to beg in an official way and where it, I assume, was expected for those approached to give something.

There was no 'Trick'; just straightforward charity linked with tradition.

I like the latter, although it would probably not fit in with modern society where those who are poorer are not expected to go cap in hand. I'm not so keen on the modern version. I can see that in the more restricted and repressed 1950's having an officially sanctioned night where kids could let their 'short back sides' hair down would make sense. Nowadays I'm not so sure.

Modern children do not need any more leeway to be free of adult control and sanction. In fact many would argue that they have too much freedom; freedom born of fear on the part of adults being seen as abusers or worse, paedophiles.

I can see the charm of youngsters being shepherded around by their parents in the dark, all dressed up gathering sweeties.

To a five year old it will be new and exciting. To a ten year old an excuse for free sweeties in abundance...........but those ten year olds become twelve, thirteen...........fifteen.

And they carry on the tradition; unaccompanied by adults and unaccompanied by adult restraint in many cases

Some enjoy the Trick more than the Treat.

Tomorrow I will be working from three in the afternoon until midnight; the witching hour? It will be one of the busiest nights of the year. Youngsters without restraint who have hounded vulnerable people will use tomorrow night to 'up the ante' under the cover of something that is sanctioned by adult society.

My wife will be on her own. We don't live in an area with a lot of families who will wander their local street. Any knocks on our door will be from those further afield...................older........unaccompanied by any restraining adult. She will be wary.

Trick or Treat?.........................as far as I'm concerned you can keep it.

Now the real old tradition of 'Souling'?........................well, maybe. I like to give. I don't mind the Treat.............but if someone carries a Trick in their bag I will not be handing out any Treats.

The message sent by the American thing is wrong. Giving should be done free of any threat however benign.

Four Hours can be a Lifetime

Four hours ago I was at work. In my uniform. Headset on, listening to people worried, frustrated, angry, stressed.........you name it.

Now I am at home. Here at my computer as if you didn't guess. In my dressing gown, wined, dined, kissed, touched, massaged, oiled,.....well OK then....getting well oiled.......... and generally sated in every sense of the word.

Work seems a lifetime ago.

I have experienced and expressed love in all sorts of ways today and I just want to set it down so I can look back and think to myself.

Four hours.

There is never enough love is there.

........and then there are E-Mails

Texts are one challenge. E-mails are another. I have come to the conclusion that the latter are an art form all of their own. I can rattle off a quickie quite neatly but woe betide the recipient of something more complex or a message with passion.

Complexity in e-mails befuddles me. I'll tap away and part way through realise I want to add something else. Simple. Add in a few words and the job's done. Trouble is the meaning of the rest of the thing gets lost so I'll ponder and maybe move a sentence to smooth the flow or rewrite something. This is happening before I finish the bloody thing. Then I'll get to the end and realise I've forgotten something else completely so I'll add another sentence or worse, a whole paragraph that so distorts my original message that I've got to rewrite and move stuff around to make any sense at all and by the time I've done that I've forgotten what I wanted to say in the first place and sometimes have to start all over again...............phew.........confused? I am.

I'll then send the damn thing and as soon as I send it off I realise I've forgotten something else so send a follow on..............and then on rereading and checking my heart sinks at the utter bollocks I've committed to the ether so I'll have to send a clarification or an addition that only serves to confuse the poor receiver even more.............and .........oh dear.

I sometimes wonder when a friend or family member sees one of my missives stumble into their inbox just what goes through their minds...............a sort of...........'oh, no not again' perhaps......or a snigger.

Back in the days of paper letters it was simple. If you forgot to include something you'd either live with it or rip the thing up and start again.

And then there is the message with passion. Passion expressed within an email..............any passion, be it love or just a sincerely held belief, is so vulnerable to being misinterpreted. It is a fragile thing to play with in this medium I think. Love....at least the way I express it comes over as comical and gushing. Mills and Boon comes to mind. A sincerely held belief expressed in my kind of language comes over as patronising and bossy unless carefully rewritten..........something I rarely do.

Yes, I do wonder what the recipients think but the trouble is I cannot resist sending them to people I like and/or love.

Like a moth to a light I am when it comes to e-mails.

Texts

Great for keeping in touch, Mrs AWB and I have found texting a boon for those simple messages like, 'Can you get some milk' or' Where are you?' LOL

That's as far as it goes with us. Well, maybe a 'I love you' or 'Looking foward to seeing you' but little more. Younger people seem to use texting as a substitute for face to face conversation.......to the extent that you'll see them sitting together on a park bench each texting to someone else miles away and oblivious of the physical being next to them. I don't get that at all. What happened to the joys of physical presence where you can observe and translate body language and facial tics and all those other things we do both voluntarily and involuntarily in front of someone else.

I had a spat with my daughter over the weekend. Nothing major; it will get resolved. She flounced off after berating me but, unfortunately for her, didn't have the last word; something she works hard to achieve. So. later, she informed Mrs AWB that I would be getting a text. Oh dear. Arguing via text; that's a new one on me. I hoped she wouldn't and would, instead bring her case to me in person. I saw, and still do, see a text in such circumstances as a cop out.

So it arrived, outlining her anger and finishing with emotion. As the receiver it came over to me as a lecture issued from a distance. You can't argue with them. it's there to be read and to answer would take a little time and......................just how long would that take?

I responded expressing that view; if she had something to say do it to my face. That only got a more heated response. Oh dear. We'll see what happens

Texts have a place but I think some people use them to protect themselves from closeness, to stay in control and avoid any confrontation even when that confrontation is the only way to resolve a difference.

Argument is merely a difference of opinion that involves emotion. The only real way to deal with that is to be face to face, to involve all aspects of communication so that the thing can be resolved quickly and satisfactorily.

Arguing over something via text is, to me, like trying to drive with only one hand.

The Great British Public

We've been watching The X Factor . Mrs AWB has followed it from the beginning. I've only really got into now that they are down to the knock out stages. I find the preliminary stuff a little formulaic especially with the obvious nutters who are televised precisely because they are odd. I get enough people like that in my job. It's a bit cruel too............we used to laugh at people with physical infirmities that made them move peculiarly..............now we laugh at the socially inept because they behave peculiarly and can't see that both are just as cruel. One day it will be seen just as crass as laughing at 'Spakkas'.

I digress.

All the embarrassing acts have gone by the time the finals come one. Well, nearly all. There always seems to be one that gets kept in. And people vote for the act too. Last year it was Jedward ; a freakish double act who couldn't sing. They kept get voted in by the public and now seem to have some kind of career. Most people think they are crap. They do have a boundless enthusiasm and maybe are held on to by a part of us precisely because they are useless; they remind us of what we would be like on stage. And they are 'what you see is what you get'; honest. They represent a rebellion against the manufactured 'talent' that is not so talented when seen live.

This year it is Wagner ; a middle aged Brazillian with hair that is too long for his age, who cannot sing or dance but attempts both with great gusto. Again it is a case of 'what you see is what you get'. You couldn't manufacture a character like him. You wouldn't want to.

Two better acts were put through the mill of the sing off; they had received less votes than Wagner............and one of them got booted off. I was bemused.

But then I thought about it and realised that those two acts weren't that good. They weren't good enough to survive through to the later rounds. So why not have some fun in the meantime and watch Wagner. He'll get ejected when the real talent is being looked at......and there is some this year.

In a strange kind of way I think he represents humility. He is the devil on all our shoulders saying, 'So, do you really want to be famous?..............just look at him'.

Sometimes the crowd, the mob, the society we live in shows a kind of wisdom that we as individuals often fail to see.

A Blog from the Heart

I read another blogger who was expressing self doubt about the emotional content of their blog. It seemed that the blogger felt that the blog was too involved emotionally with whatever it was that was being written about.

The inference seemed to be that this blogger admired a more detached approach in order to present reasoned pieces for the reader.

Hmmmm.

What is a blog for if it cannot speak from the heart.

My blog isn't a debating society. If I want to debate with anyone I'll go on a message board. I sometimes do. My blog is not the dispenser of nuggets of wisdom either. Too many blogs seem to try to do that.

No. My blog is where my heart can creep out without too much fear for I have control of the edit button. It is primarily for me and so I can be self indulgent if I wish.

For the reader it is an insight into the inner workings of one middle aged male. No more. No less. It is one of thousands, millions even.

Whether I show reason or whether I show emotion doesn't really matter.

I show me.

If I feel passionate about something and it is something I can be public about I'll talk about it. With emotion too. Why not?

If I feel more detached I may give a more reasoned view of a subject............but then if I feel so detached I'll probably not be interested.............or interesting! For that is what can let a blog down. Too little passion makes for a boring blog whereas the passion can fire up the reader...........even if we disagree.

An Autumn Romance

Just a sample of some photos I took today. Mrs AWB and I had some 'us' time and part of it was spent wandering around one of our favourite places; Fountains Abbey. We talked about this. Why is it that we are so happy to come back and back to the same places? Some would find it boring. They want the stimulus of the new, whether it be a day out, a holiday.........or a person.

We both strongly believe that the new can be found in the same. In the case of places it is the changing seasons, the weather but perhaps most of all.........the mood we are in when there.

Today was nice. It was slow. It was calm. A day for a sweet smile and maybe even a kiss in the autumn sunshine.

They've refilled the lake after taking out the island. Last time we were here it was a landscape of mud and ditches.

A shot of the view across the little valley to the Temple that I never tire of. I must have dozens of photos taken down the years. All different in their own way. The season, the time of day, the weather, clouds. You name it. The variations are countless.

And then you can look at a scene with the eye of a happy person, a content one or with the worries of some worrying thing lurking in the back of your mind.

My very favourite view I think of anywhere. Always makes my heart sing, whatever the weather, whatever the mood. I'd love to see it in moonlight one day.

It's partly the anticipation. The walk around the curve of the lake teases you with its length as you approach that point where the Abbey is revealed like a temptress glimpsed through an open window.

Same view with the zoom.

Another favourite view? Ha, not really.......I put these of myself in to give me a reminder in future times of what mood I was in, my age and other stuff. I'll remember this because it connects with yesterday. I'm wearing my brand new winter thingy. Snug.

It provides me with another link, another dimension for those times in the future when I look back and think........'Wow, just look how young I looked then'

I love the dimensions that reflections in still waters give. It's almost like having another pair of eyes. Like looking into a parrallel world.

The warmth of the stone is captured here.

Shadows. In autumn the skies are often clear but the sun is low enough to play all sorts of magic.

I love the sharp contrast between light and shade that you don't really get in the warmer seasons.

The warmth of the colours belie the chill in the air although it wasn't too bad today...........well, I was warm in my new winter thingy.

We wandered in amongst the lakes today, something we rarely do so I got a few different viewpoints.

The shadows of the trees give the place an intimacy despite its size. In high summer with the glare of the mid summer sun chasing all those shadows away the whole ambience is much grander.

You aren't supposes to take photos into the sun, at least not with a simple camera like mine. I sometimes think I should get a fancier thing so that I could play with lighting and the rest, however I think I'd get flustered. I can barely work the bloody DVD.

I digress. This works for me.

A nice time. Then back home to snuggle up and...............later we made a late lunch.

Absorbing the Ambience

Mrs AWB and I took Granddaughter to York today, there was an exhibition on at the The Castle Museum. She's not really spent a lot of time in a museum and we thought this, if anything, would interest her and give us a good idea as to whether it would be the kind of place we could take her in the future.

One thing about 'historical places of interest' is this; they usually provide decent activity books for the youngsters to get them involved. They are fantastic. We've used them with Granddaughter in Stately Homes on occasion; never in a museum.

She was enthralled. But I'm not sure it was the historical artifacts and what not that did it for her. No. It was the whole experience. She had her little book and during our tour she would diligently fill it in. While we would be wandering around looking at the exhibits I would look about me to find her sitting on a seat filling her little book or taking in some view of a seventeenth century dining room or some such. She seemed to enter into the whole thing.

Yet she only entered stuff into her book that interested her and if it was beyond her she made it up. She wasn't really interested in the detail. The accuracy of the facts presented mattered not a jot.

She was happy to soak up the atmosphere, to be in a new environment with two people she trusted and loved. As I scanned the information boards with half an eye I realised she was doing exactly as I do, have always done.

I remember as a child of about her age being taken to places like that. I wasn't always interested in the things they had but what those little trips did do for me was this; they allowed me to enter my own secret world. While mum and dad were poring over some bit of old pot I'd be day dreaming about......well, anything really...between looking at something that caught my eye and my fantasies. They were....and still are........the perfect kind of places for me.

I amble through some of them reading this, reading that. Maybe examining something that catches my eye. I'm also daydreaming, Wandering through my mind and imagination. I'll get to the end of a corridor and realise I've only looked at a tenth of what was in it.........and feel a little guilty at being such a Philistine.

But hey, aren't these places meant to trigger thoughts and not be merely a conduit for facts and figures of times gone by? What is the use of statistical information without the imagination to turn it into pictures.

Some things stuck in my mind about our visit. Granddaughter with her head in her book in 'Kirkgate'; the famous street they have in the museum. The presentation by Samuel Adams dressed up as a regency butler (you can see him in the link) giving a lecture on high class dining of the period in the kind of speech they used then; it was funny and fascinating..............and left me with an image that those people must have been pissed out of their minds at the end of these very complex and formal affairs. The shout of 'Grandma' or 'Granda' as Granddaughter found something interesting. Searching a Juke Box to pick and listen to the Animals' 'House of the Rising Sun' in the sixties street.......that was good.

But most of all....................a happy child at the end of a three hour slow trawl through the place; you know, that awful aching back you get when walking at 'that pace'. Many kids would have been bored witless and whinged appropriately.

We went for a lazy meal and then off to a 'Designer Outlet'...............only long enough to get me a winter proof thingy at a huge reduction.

A lovely day.

Finding Sadness

My life is good at the moment. It usually is. Like everyone I have my ups and downs but the ups far outweigh the downs so I must be getting something right.

Once in while though, something will hit me and bring on a feeling of melancholy or even downright sadness. As often as not it is an external thing that is not directly related to me but sets me thinking about my own good fortune.

My job is a source of these moments as I've described at various times.

Today I got that stab in the heart from somewhere else. I was out on a mission; food shopping for tonight and found myself in a Mall; The White Rose shopping centre to be precise. I rarely wander there and when I do it is at a brisk pace. The floors are hard, the shops bland and the crowds irritating.

I caught sight of a young woman. She had a kind, sensitive face. She looked a little self conscious, a little anxious, not very happy. She was quite pink; not a healthy rosy pink but that dark patchy pink that hints at health problems.............as though the fresh rosy hue had had some blue mixed into the pallet.

I saw the reason too. Obese to the point of being repellent. Floppy, wobbly protrusions hung from her. The most noticeable was her lower abdomen. It hung like a wobbly parody of a large breast down to mid thigh.

My heart went out to her...........and then I felt guilty for feeling pity. I wanted to cuddle this pleasant looking person but was repelled by her sheer ugly bulk. For ugly it was. Obesity isn't always so ugly. Some appear comfortable with it and were it not for the health issues involved I don't see it as unattractive.

But this woman, this young woman was unhappy. I could see it in her face. Trapped in a body of her own creation.

What kind of self worth must she have? To live in a body that you find disgusting must be an agony. To create that body yourself doesn't bear thinking about.

As I type this I wonder about her. Her face sits in my mind and I wonder how she will cope. How long she will live carrying so much excess. Can't see her getting to my age. Can't see her having a loving partner. Can't see her having a family. Can't see her being happy. I can only see loneliness.

Yes........................I count my blessings.

Approaching Nirvana?

I've never been a particularly ambitious man in the sense that my ambition has largely been programmed by what society has expected of me and the needs of my family. On its own, climbing the corporate ladder has meant very little and the higher I got the less I liked it. I felt like an observer and was never comfortable with it. Never comfortable amongst those people who seem to be able to focus on ambition.

Now I am at a stage in my life where I don't need to provide for a family I have been able to discard the necessity element of 'ambition' and have realised that it is even less important than I thought before. I used to feel guilty for not feeling driven, for not climbing further up the ladder. I was capable of it but my heart was never there. While many of my colleagues were focused on the road ahead I liked to look out of the side windows too.

My heart is about being. The here and now. Not the then.......be it past or future.

Making any sense?

The being can be virtually nothing too. Yes, I like to plan a nice day. I'm alive. I'm human. I'm a physical entity. I have curiosity and desire to satisfy.

But I also like nothing. Isn't that partly what Nirvana is all about; a kind of supreme nothingness? If I didn't have my body to feed and satisfy just what would I..................want.........or need?

I'll give a practical example of my wandering towards this way of thinking.

Over the years I've bought a Sunday paper. Almost always the Sunday Times. I remember in my thirties laying it out on the dining room table and reading through all the in depth reports with an avid interest and feeling almost a part of the story.

Now? Of late I hardly touch the thing. I buy it and scan the titles to see if anything captures my interest. As often as not the title tells me enough.......and only induces me to move on.

Another; my book. I've written it. The synopsis is sitting with an agent waiting for a reply. Am I driven to push for publication? Not really. It would be nice but the most important thing for me was the fact that I wrote a whole novel from start to finish.

I get satisfaction out of sitting doing nothing apart from looking out of the window and watching the sky, watching the light change as the day moves on.

I wonder where this approach to life may lead. I'm happy to go with it. Does that mean I'm not in control of my life? Control is a kind of mantra for many people isn't it. If you're not in control you must be some kind of wimp; it's almost macho.

But to be in control you have to hold on to something. To hold on to something also allows the possibility that you could lose your grip, lose your control. So, if it's possible to lose that grip then there will be times when you do lose it............when you lose control. Life is like that.

But to abandon all thought of control is maybe the ultimate form of control. What you don't hold you can never lose.

Make any sense?

Hmmmmm.................I'll leave this here as an undeveloped theme and maybe come back to it.

A Chill Wind

The beam of light wasn't apparent when I took this. Like a ghost it appeared in the downloaded version.

Last night I left work and walked into the coldest night of the season....so far. Three degrees according to the car.

I got home, had a glass of wine, checked out emails and then went up and snuggled in with Mrs AWB. My turn for the cold feet. She didn't object.


In the corner of our little back garden we have a Rowan tree. Not the traditional one that gets the red berries. We have one of those in the large side garden. No, this is a little different. Large white berries are its speciality as you can see and the leaves go yellow rather than the usual pink. This year it is heavy with fruit. Never seen so many on it as the birds usually strip a fair few away.

Does that mean the birds are confident that the winter won't be so bad? Or are they biding their time only to swoop on it later? We'll see. In the meantime I'll enjoy its beauty set against that clear crisp sky and record it here.


I'd hate to live in a world with no seasons.

The Blogging Game

When I first started my blog eighteen months ago I spent a lot of time between my own posting reading other blogs and commenting on them. Those that I liked I linked to and found myself building up, for me, quite a list. I then noticed I started to get a few followers and began to wonder what motivated people to blog in the first place but also to wonder why they would 'follow' a blog or spend so much time reading and posting on other people's blogs.

I read a fair few blogs. Not all of them regularly. Some I post on. But not always.

My blog is primarily for me with a weather eye on those who read me regularly. Some of you comment, some don't. Some of you follow me. Some don't. I don't mind in the slightest, although if I got no readers I'd maybe start to feel a little unloved LOL.

For I think that is it. Blogging is essentially selfish. Perhaps even a little narcissistic. We parade an image under the guise of showing our writing skills, our debating talents, intellectual aspirations or some such quality we think we have in the hope that we will be seen for the genius that we are. Don't we? I wonder if, when we follow other blogs it is in the hope that they will return the favour.

A sort of 'you scratch my blog and I'll scratch yours.'

I have noticed that, on occasion, someone has appeared as a follower...................and then disappeared. I've wondered why. My blog doesn't really change in its style and approach so why follow me for a month and then bugger off?

Posting comments can be fun for the wrong reasons. My 'quota' of comments received and certainly of visits tends to rise when I have spent a while 'doing the rounds'.

Why? Do we only bother to read and comment on those who read us?

Maybe some people follow an ever changing menu of blogs, assiduously changing their list as time, and their taste, moves on. Couldn't be arsed with that myself. But then others become followers and then hardly ever visit again; yet stay on as a follower. My links are a bit like that. I add them and then when I realise I very rarely visit one or two still leave them on. It would seem rude to delete.

I read blogs who I never post on, who don't know of my blog. I also read blogs and post on them irrespective of whether they have visited me or not. Some know of my blog. Some don't. I have no pattern.

I read expressions like 'friend' exchanged between bloggers. Can anyone on the web really be a 'friend'? I have my doubts. You don't see these people. You only get to know an edited 'read only' version of them without the facial tics and farting. A blog could even be more misleading than a Burqa. A Burqa conceals but it does not tell a lie. A blog? Mirage?

Words are an immensely powerful medium. They can reveal a truth that is not always apparent to the writer until it is set down for all to see, naked. They can also confuse, mislead in a way that the writer may not have intended.

I wonder sometimes if some bloggers 'collect' followers and comments to prove something to themselves; that they are popular and worth a read. Or even a competitive thing; a kind of 'My blog is bigger than yours'

Me? I don't think I'd want the volumes of comments that some receive...............I would say that wouldn't I. Well, yes I would.

For a blog like mine is a small place. It is intimate.

It is for me............................and maybe for one or two of you.

Talking of Love

I was talking to someone recently, a beautiful woman who I involuntarily flirt with. In her thirties, gorgeous compelling eyes, tall, elegant and a mouth that arouses the kind of fantasies that I shouldn't really indulge in with anyone other than Mrs AWB. More importantly she is bright, we are on a similar wavelength and have pretty well the same sense of humour. We gravitate towards each other and ask each other about family, home and the rest. It is a sweet platonic thing.

I have given her a vague idea of my recent trials and tribulations and of the fact that things have turned full circle with my marriage kind of rising like a Phoenix from what seemed like ashes.

On this occasion she was bursting with something that may have been best kept to herself. She lives with her boyfriend and he had done something that made her wonder if he was going to 'pop the question'.

The evidence sounded compelling.

'Do you want him to ask?'. She said she wasn't sure although I think her face said yes.

'But what if you're wrong?' I asked her. She asked me to promise not to tell. I won't............but, in a way, I wish she hadn't said anything. I hope she's right. I hope it isn't wishful thinking.

I've thought a lot about love recently. It is something I think I've been unable to express properly for much of my life. Something that I have been frightened of as it entails a complete loss of self. A loss of control.

Recently that has changed and I think it is, in part, an age thing.

As you get older you get a little more relaxed with yourself and you reach a stage where you realise that some things in life just have to be grasped. A sort of 'now or never' approach.

I have come to accept that love cannot be controlled except by denial and repression. Been there, not good. However, once unleashed it cannot be directed to where you think it should go.

It will find a home. It is like a limpet. It will stick sometimes to where you don't want it to stick...............but, hey, hang on a minute...........................does that matter?

No. You cannot force it. You cannot push it into a place it doesn't want to go. So relax, let it find it's home...............or homes......................and enjoy its honesty. Trust it.

I think love is perhaps the purest and most honest emotion we can feel. So I will enjoy the love I feel for whoever I feel it for....be it family, friends or Mrs AWB.

Luckily Mrs AWB is a major recipient of that.........................'a major' being a deliberate tease.

The Joys of the Kitchen

I'm in the middle of a Sunday morning ritual..................at least it is a ritual when I'm not at work.

Mrs AWB and Granddaughter go swimming most Sundays and leave me to create. I love it and usually lose myself for a while in the kitchen; maybe coming up to the computer for a pause as I'm doing just now.

So what is it that I love? Well, the whole process, be it the chopping up up of whatever it is I'm using through the initial cooking, searing, whizzing up in a processor or whatever to those finishing touches to get that taste just right.

I even like shopping for it all.

There are some elements that I just love. I've just performed one. Squidging up a mix for meatballs; one of Granddaughter's Favourites. A Mix of Pork and Beef mince is the base for all sorts of ingredients that have been whizzed up and then scooped onto the mince (I don't grind that up) before getting in with my hands and squidging it all up. Gorgeous. Almost sensual.

Then there is that first cooking off of chopped onions. Today it is Italian so I'll have the aroma of garlic to look forward to along with peppers, herbs, tomatoes. It's all there in my mind as to what I'll put in, what order I'll put it in and what aromas will pervade the kitchen.

And all the while I will have some music on...................................and a first glass of wine.

At other times I adore that first whiff of spice as you set them to roast or add them to onions or whatever.

I'll have to go. The kitchen beckons. I can hear the music now. The meatballs are in the oven and I'll soon start to smell their rustic aroma. The wine is down there. Too early? Nah............it's a lovely day and I have something to celebrate.

I'll raise a glass to those I love, my family, a few close friends and count my blessings and enjoy some memories too. Of days gone by........yesterday especially...............and of days to come.

Painting pretty pictures

Last night, the last of seven shifts, was lovely. The last ones always are, a sort of 'end of term' atmosphere pervades as we all talk about what we'll do in our 'rest days'.

'Rest days' can best be compared to a long weekend after a long stretch of work plus overtime so they come as something more of a relief than a standard weekend. We'd done seven shifts in a row.

So, what did we say? Well, I drew a picture of going home to a bottle of wine and a home-made risotto with garlicky spinach. All prepared by Mrs AWB. One colleague was enthralled enough to say..............'Hmmm, I think I'll get some wine on the way home'. Even if she didn't she enjoyed a moment of anticipating something nice in the last couple of hours before we finished.

To someone else I described what I envisaged for today. Cooking an Italian creation for Mrs AWB and Granddaughter. My listener's mind wandered off with an exclamation, 'I think I'll make something nice'. I did what I said I was going to do and it was lovely.

Isn't that what life is about? Enjoying the 'now', getting on with the 'now'....................but anticipating what is to come...............and planning for it.

It amazes me how many people say, when asked about what they'll be doing when they are off, 'Oh, nothing much'

And then they wonder why they are unhappy.

A question of Viagra

I rarely go into too many details about my personal life. I'm not going to here either although I will touch on an issue that lurks in the background for many middle-aged men...........and some not so middle-aged too.

Erectile Dysfunction; ED for short.

Yes, I need a little help at times but I have, over time, learnt to not only to accept but to embrace it. Initially it hit me like a sledge hammer and was about as emasculating as anyone - or at least any man - can imagine. Isn't the fundamental raison d'etre for men their ability to penetrate and impregnate?

And a limp wank is a weird sensation to say the least.

I mean, just what do you do with a droopy dick? Chop it off? Fiddle with it like a 2 year old? Become so obsessed with it's refusal to play that you forget that you have the rest of your body to use...................most importantly your mind?

I missed those involuntary erections that made me feel like a man. That pulsing sensation, that wonderful feeling of 'fullness' that you only really appreciate once it becomes harder - sorry, unfortunate word - to achieve. The Blue Pill, or a little piece of it, has brought it back - mostly. There is a caveat. It takes a little while to crank up and there are side effects. For me, luckily, they are minor; although I have had a 'hot flush' or two which just made me feel like a bloody menopausal woman.

But the delay?

Well, I've learnt to build that into the anticipation of the whole thing. It means our fun isn't just fitted in when we are both in the mood....................a hit and miss affair after 34 years. We have to plan...............that means we have to talk about it. Mrs AWB and I have a 'date' planned for........................well, that would be saying too much ;)

The weirdest thing is this. Because I'm not expected to perform at will it takes the pressure off. Because Mr Willy may not want to play I've learnt to appreciate other means, other ways. OK, spontaneous bonking may have mostly gone out of the window but the stuff that has replaced it more than makes up for it.

I suppose what I am trying to say is this. Never give up. What may seem a failure can be an opportunity to open other doors. A cliche I know but so, so appropriate.

My Job

I try to give an insight into my work sometimes, largely to illuminate any reader as to just how odd it can be. I cannot think of any other kind of work where you can go from tragedy to farce in the space of seconds.

Greater Manchester Police conducted an experiment. They showed all their calls on Twitter. Apparently an eye opener for the public. At work we all giggled. We also applauded the idea.

A news link;Bobbies on the Tweet

Twitter link;GMP Twitter

The silliest of things............

.......stay in your mind.

It's not always the small child who goes missing.

Or the father who, when looking for his suicidal daughter, finds her shoes in the middle of the road leading to a river.

Those do stay with you sometimes and, yes, they do bother you. They stay as unwelcome guests though

The daft things get welcomed and clung onto. Like the call tonight from a young mother wanting to update a crime report.

I could hear a small child in the background. The mother started giggling,

'She's just started eating a lollipop and a pepperoni at the same time'

The Autumn of our Lives

We wandered about our garden a couple of days ago, both in reflective mood. The light was perfect and the garden looked lovely in its Autumn cloak. I took some photos for the sake of posterity; a special day it was. I'm posting the one you see. The colours are perfect, the light almost so and there are no man made structures to distract from what, for me, is something pure and beautiful. In the foreground the colours and shapes but beyond a clear blue sky............isn't that what we all reach for?

Autumn; deceptive beauty? We all love the colours but aren't those colours really harbingers of decay and death?

The older I have got the more important my life has become. I don't want to waste what time I have left. I don't want to waste time, mine or anyone else's in dead end relationships that have become stale because no-one has the courage........or foolhardiness...........to rock the boat and instigate a change.

That can apply to any relationship; friendship.................marriage.

We tend to take the easy way out and the problem with any long term relationship that 'easy' way just gets apparently easier because you get practiced at it.

.............until you realise that you may be heading into a cul de sac....................or an abyss.

Mrs AWB and I have been victims of such a malaise. We have both taken the 'easy' option for fear of hurting the other until something snapped and gave way and sent us both plummeting into what seemed like an abyss.

Only I don't think it's been an abyss. We've found a way out.............we think............and now those Autumn colours do not signify the onset of decay and winter.

They are a last hurrah; for us anyway. They are a thing of unique beauty that is experienced at no other time of the year or, to continue the analogy, no other time of our lives.

And decay? No. All decay does is allow new growth. Without it nothing could grow.

If we work at our lives and work for our loved ones we can leave a legacy of love and warmth that can only bring good to everyone.

Mrs AWB and I owe that to ourselves and everyone we love.

The Abyss

A few days ago I came out with this to a friend;

'Sometimes you've got to climb down to the bottom of the abyss to get to the other side'

Hmmm..........sounds like one of those clever clever, trite statements maybe?

I have been down there for the last few days. Pushed? Jumped? Well, probably a little of both.

I got to the bottom and was able to look at things from a completely different angle. You cannot be complacent when you are down there.

Why so cryptic? My marriage. All marriages get their moments of crisis. Sometimes, as in ours, the crisis is delayed for fear of raising hurtful issues. Neither of us wants to hurt, we are both 'nice' and would suffer a lot to avoid hurting the other. Trouble is, that hurt slumbers somewhere and has eventually to be expressed............in extreme terms if left too long. Those issues have a habit of bursting forth and they did...................with a fucking vengeance.

So now the cards have been thrown in the air. The jury is still out to a degree....................we have to work.

I dashed out of work today and spent all lunch time delivering something to Mrs AWB..................I caught her preparing our evening meal.

I came back tonight.................the garage door was open for me...................a sign.......and a lovely meal.

For that is what a long term relationship is................gestures...................signs..................who knows where it well end.

It will be a different place from where it has been though.

A Different Direction

I went out for a drive earlier to clear my head.....and got caught in a torrential downpour. Driving up a one way street I use quite lot I came upon a car travelling towards me. In the wrong direction.

And guess what. My first reaction was to question the route I was taking, even though I know the road and knew I was the one who was going the right way.

Self doubt. It's a bummer.

Applies to life in general too.

Strong and Silent.

That's what we men are supposed to be.

I'm going through what I can only describe as a nightmare in my personal life at the moment. I won't divulge what it is about but I will talk generally, as much to try to soothe the pain as anything else.

I am at a loss as to what to do and cannot really share it with anyone. One good friend knows a little but to lean too much in that direction would be unfair.

That's where my silence comes in. At least in part.

But strength? Oh my word, I feel anything but strong. A dazed rabbit looking into headlights would describe me at the moment.

So I'll talk to me..............and you the reader, although you will wonder what it is about. That doesn't matter. Any traumatic experience has a commonality. So there may be some interest to you, the casual reader. My question is how do you cope with personal trauma?

My shift tonight helped. I was able to lose myself in work. But what else? Alcohol? Well, a large, super large, whisky is at my side. Temporary at best. Sleep? Oh yes. I can understand why some would want to make that permanent too. Peace. Of course that is not a serious option. Life is too wonderful........even when it is shit............to throw away.

But I think you have to examine every option to help gain some sense of balance. After all, if I want to get through this I must imagine that there is something good beyond. Trouble is.............I don't know what that is.

Sometimes, though, the unknown can be the answer. It's life's way of throwing the cards up in the air and seeing what happens. Being fatalistic.

Yup..............that's what I'll be;a fatalist. What will be will be. Let it pan out. Take whatever opportunities there are and see what comes out at the end. Even better; regard the next few days as a kind of roller coaster ride....................oh fuck; a frightening one.

I, sort of, feel better.

................or is it the whisky LOL

This has been the most important post I have ever made-for me..............so far...........I wonder what I will think when I look at it on this day one year from now.

Today it is rainy

But yesterday it was dry and sunny. A lovely Autumn day in the garden.

So here is a shot to remind me of that day, that month and that year.

I wonder what it will look like this time next year.