Sunday, 26 April 2015

Sunday at home.

   The parcel office here is open Sundays 10 till 2. Which is handy as I'm never here when it's open normal hours. I had two parcels to collect. Via a slight detour to pick up some food, I collected my parcels. A second pair of reading glasses and an old brass letter box for my old front door. Once home I posed in front of the mirror for few minutes trying to look smart in my new glasses. Gave that up as a bad job and chopped up the recently purchased vegetables, popped them in the slow cooker along with some beef and switched on. In a few hours the fairies will have finished their magic and supper will be ready.
   I had a pile of books to take to the book shop at the bottom of the road and then planned to go for a walk along the beach as the tide was out (according to the little app on my phone). The pile of books came courtesy of my Mum. She belongs to a book club and ends up reading lots of high brow books she doesn't enjoy. I know, don't ask. Once in a while she asks me whether I would like any of them, which translated from mum speak to normal English is, "can you take these books away please, as I'm old and feeble." The part time book shop at the end of the road is open Tuesdays and Sundays. It's run by a local couple. Laid out in no particular order with chairs dotted around, so you can sit and read. They probably only make enough to pay the rent and the coffee, which you're given soon after you arrive. So they get Mums books and I get to look along the shelves for old penguin paperbacks. With two additions for my collection and buzzing from the strong coffee I crossed the road and through the gap to the sea.
   I've been here almost eighteen mouths now and still haven't lost the childlike thrill of looking out to sea at the boats and picking up shells to take home. I go, prepared with something to put the shells in and boots just in case I decide to search around the rock pools. I've become a beach "bag lady" slowly making my way along the waterline looking for anything interesting. I've seen a seashell path in the town. Lots of shells crushed under foot over many years. I only have a small garden so it's do able. I might have to swap the plastic bag for a bucket though. Amongst the shells and pebbles were a lot of crab bits, legs, claws, shells. It looked like some massive crab fight had gone off. I'm sure there's a natural explanation for it but I like my idea. One crab looking at another crabs girlfriend, followed by a few words and insults. Then bang, massive crab fight. I also found a half buried octopus. Which on closer inspection turned out to be a bicycle tyre. As I mentioned. If you walk along the beach slowly you start to see more and become turned into what you're doing. Which links me into something else I was doing this week. Sometimes blogs I follow stop. The authors moves on or get bored or finds the time commitment to blog difficult to keep up with. So I had a look around to see whats out there. One of the blogs I read, felt really miserable and that things wouldn't change. mistakes where made and people had moved on. Given my experience, I decided to leave a comment. Along the lines of don't give up, look at things differently. Because when you do the nice shells appear as if by magic. Talking of magic I think the fairies of the slow cooker have done their stuff so it's time to eat.

Onwards and upwards. In search of fulfillment :-)))


Thursday, 23 April 2015


   I'd be lying if I didn't say I didn't check on how many views a particular post gets. Lately I'm getting alot of attention from Russia. Why I have little idea. My bank accounts are running on empty so hacking would appear a futile exercise. I doubt I'd make a good spy. Maybe my post titles resemble something popular out there. If you see ads appearing here, for fur hats and snow chains you'll know I'm cashing in. "Privet Rossii."
   I went and picked up a few bits left at mad girls today. The house was empty, so I could collect my stuff and remember in peace. Don't go getting sad on me, things have ended in a good way. my shirts still have their sleeves, my trousers (pants for you Aims) still have legs and we are still friends. I won't miss the journey backwards and forwards though, 52 miles of the most boring parts of Kent. Maybe I should get out a bit and find a nice drive somewhere. Then find some unsuspecting woman at the end. I love you for your smile, your humour and the great drive to your house. Or, this isn't working between us but I'll visit often cos the journey's just wonderful.
   Have I mentioned time before? I must have I've rambled on about most things . Or more specifically, time healing? I've read a few things from people who for a variety of reasons have had things tough but say "time has healed," and they feel better. Time did that? No they did that. They went in search of answers and filled their buckets with things that seemed relevant until the pain and bile spilled out over the top and all that was left was good stuff. I mention this as I appear to be more resilient of late. My bucket must be almost full and the indecision and procrastination are tipping out. I've even caught myself smiling for no apparent reason. That could very well signal madness and you would be hard pressed to see my smile as the shaggy beard hides it well.
   Ok that's me done.

Onwards and upwards. In search of fulfillment :-)))         

Monday, 13 April 2015

Habits and the brain.

It's been a long few days at work and not all has gone to plan. I hadn't really got enough done prior to the plasterer arriving. So two long days trying to catch up and then two long days when he did. We didn't get everything done and he's busy on other work now. So I'm a bit stuck and it's my fault. there's no point in mulling over this (something I would of done in the past) I just have to figure a way round it.
   However before I do this, I thought I'd get this down on the blog and how I'm feeling and thinking. I've been reading about habits from two books I picked up cheaply on my kindle. The first, deals with how to. The second looks at why. The second is far more interesting. The habit department, good and bad (basil ganglia). has it's office at the back of the brain. It isn't the most exiting department at Brain HQ they're not there to come up with new ideas or deal with anything half way interesting. Its cheap to maintain, so staffed by dull little cells who demand little and work 24/7. They just push the ON button for the required habit,  Making a coffee, taking a shower, driving and eating too much cake. You get the picture. Then there's the prefrontal cortex. The decision department. All the interesting stuff goes on here. Long term planning, ambition and what could be. It has it's offices in the front of the brain and is full of smart power hungry cells. Now when things go wrong budgets don't always allow for the decision department to call all those clever cells in. So the habit department comes to the rescue and pushes a button.
   Now you know why, when things don't always go right and you're thinking "Why do I always do that," you do that! Your habits and I'm focusing on the bad ones, are there to comfort and protect you in the short term when things don't go well. They are not designed to help you move on. just survive the moment. I don't know about you but I don't feel so bad about my bad habits now. OK I'd like to rid myself of a few of them but maybe some can just be modified. Take for instance my opening paragraph. My work habit is to start slow, not always deliberately and then end up in a panic working long hours to catch up. What if I just ran that habit backwards?
   I'm off to have a think about my other habits, I may be gone a long lonnnnng time.

Onwards and upwards. In search of fulfillment :-)))        

Thursday, 9 April 2015

Thoughts on faults.

   Things with Mad Girl and I are not looking good. I was told off for not showing I cared enough. Which surprised me a bit as I thought things were fine and dandy We talked about it (more on that in a minute) and whilst I show I care in a number of ways, these don't count and I mean don't count. If instead I laid on the sofa permanently and mumbled "Iluvyou" as she past by, then things would be fine. It's my fault (you see, even without thinking I know as a man, it's my fault) very early on in our relationship whilst out shopping, I was asked my opinion about something she tried on. "Ooh it's nice" I said. Nice??? Nice, I was told is a none word. It means nothing. In fact it's better to say nothing than to use the "N" word. You can't imagine how difficult it's been for a me, over the last three years without "nice" I'm like a rabbit trapped between the head lights. What should I say, I know "wonderful" no I used that word yesterday em em "ooh that's rather special" ok I got away with it for now.
   Back to the talk, I was told off in a pub while we were having a drink, well I was given a list of things I wasn't doing/ not good at. At first I defended myself but then thought, this wasn't the best place to discuss our relationship So said so and as this was important to me as well, we should talk about this more but somewhere where we both felt a little more secure and private. Agreed. We both sat there and finished our drinks in a slightly frosty small talk way.
   Rightly or wrongly, I felt this was something for Mad Girl to decide on the best time to continue but nothing was mentioned again when we had time together. Now I'm not a complete bonehead and knew things would only get worse if left. So I offered to go over and cook one Saturday while she had to work. She joined me and while we sliced and diced a number of vegetables and finger tips, I asked if she would like to talk about what had been touched on in the pub. So we did and it went back a long way. Too long, to the point where small things have become magnified and as happens, other things get conveniently forgotten. I have many faults as does she but I don't think I'm difficult to talk to or lack understanding.
   I don't want another relationship where things get bottled up like this. Sadly it looks like Mad Girl and I are destined to be just good friends (((
   I took the "slow-cooker" down from the high shelf yesterday. Never has a piece of kitchen cook wear been better named. Seeing as it's taken me just over a year to get round to using it. I did a very straight forward beef stew and very nice it was too. I felt extremely pleased with myself. While I swanned around Margate harbour and the old town. Looking at the paintings in the "Turner Contemporary" and all the tat for sale in the junk shops. The "slow-cooker" cooked. I arrived home, busting for a pee (one pint too many at the "Harbour Arm") and as I rushed up the stairs to the bathroom I was struck by the lovely smell of cooked food. It was as if fairies had invaded and made me dinner. An hour or so later. Full of stew and smugness I set about moving bits and pieces here and there in my temporary kitchen. It still looks like a building site but one where you can now get an omelette instead of food poisoning to go with your big mug of builders tea and six sugars.

Onwards and upwards in search of fulfillment :-)))

Saturday, 4 April 2015

Elections and wonderful people

There's going to be an election here on the 7th May. Well in fact three, we'll vote for an MP (Minister of Parliament) who'll represent us in Parliament and local councillors to represent us at County and local council level. It used to be easy. Once upon a time you were either left  (Labour) of centre or right (Tory). There was/is a centre party (Liberal Democrats) and a few fringe parties but you didn't vote for them. You were red or blue and it didn't really matter as neither party did anything other than screw up.
Now however things are different. There are parties of all colours and we expect results. We get rather upset when the bins aren't emptied or an invisible wave of jobless refugees threaten to take our unemployment benefits. How dare they, quick fetch me pen and paper no, hand me a phone. Oooooh I don't know my MP's number. I know, I'll just moan on my FaceBook page, that will get results and while I'm at it, I can check my mate, Gary's page. He usually has something to errrr, nah or laugh at.
Apart from the bins and dog poo (my pet hate) we have a local airport here, closed by dubious means. Which locals are fighting to get reopened. As this will create a few jobs and stop the whole area being turned into one giant housing estate where thousands could live while they wait for jobs to exist that don't.
As much as local Government and Central Government have let people down in this neck of the woods and that will come as no surprise to anyone who has a democratically elected government. However there are good things happening too. We have a lift here which dates back to the 1930's (pic1) it used to carry people down to the beach and back up again at the end of their day. It's been closed for years but recently local people set about repainting it (pic2)and when some little arse wipe adds a piece of graffiti they are there and painting it out within hours. We also have a tidal pool (pic3), an outdoor swimming pool built on the edge of the beach. When the tide comes in, it fills and you can swim there safely. Again the council shows little interest but some bright spark got it listed with National Heritage. So it's protected and a mad bunch of people swim in it daily. You can spot them, they go in pink and come out blue and they're doing it to protect the pools future. Then there are the rubbish collectors. Locals that meet up, target an area and spend a few of their free hours picking up the crap left by other people.
I've never lived in a place where there are people doing so much for the benefit of those who live or visit here and for nothing, just the knowledge they have done something that improves life for everyone. Maybe you have to have a rubbish council for people like this to appear.

Onwards and upwards in search of fulfillment :-)))

Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Finding a direction.

When I first started to blog it was pretty simple. A paragraph or two on how I was feeling. Finding a focus was easy, it was all about me. Not in a narcissistic way, I felt lost and broken and wanted to find ways to repair things. As time has past I've felt a little uncomfortable with that. In the beginning it was simply a diary. Then slowly I became aware that people were reading and that changed things. I started to write with the idea that people would be reading, so edited (not that well) and I kept things back. For a while now I've been thinking about a writing style, as I've began to enjoy a little writing and would like to get a little better at it.
Sticking a brief review of one of Steve's chapter first has been a buffer while I figure out what.  Do I want to be funny or controversial, bookish, crusading etc, etc. Funny would be good. Seeing or finding the funny in life keeps me going and the people I like best are funny. I also really like really really smart people that's because I'm not and they impress me but I think writing funny is going to be difficult enough. Smart would just be too big a step.
There have been a few things I've not mentioned over the last few months because they haven't really fitted. They are quite important to me and I wouldn't want them missed. I did make a promise about listing all of SC's chapters and I'm not going to break a promise. I just might stick him on the end.

Onwards and upwards, in the pursuit of fulfillment :-)))