This is the age of the train
Well, we’re not even out of the first month of 2002 and here I am on my first trip away. I’m writing this on a Virgin Train from London Euston to Penrith. So far, it’s been a surprisingly pleasant experience. It’s been a little while since I travelled by train regularly, as I used to when my job involved travel all over the UK. I’m not sure why, but the service seems to have improved a touch. For an hour I had the four seats around the table to myself, but I’ve now been joined by three ladies on their way home to Carlise.
It makes a really nice change to not be driving. I’ve spent so much time hammering up and down the A12 and M4 over the last year, the chance to travel with minimal effort to myself is really, really pleasant. I’ve got a good chance of arriving rested and refreshed, instead of fried by the idiots that drive on Britain’s road. The one disadvantage is the rather large rucksack I’m carrying. It’s January, and I’m heading for the lake district: it’s gonna be cold. That’s why I need a lot of bulky, warm clothing.
I’ve brought the iBook as an experiment more than anything. I probably won’t be able to e-mail Mum like I did when I was in Scotland late last year. However, given that there are 10 people on this trip, I should be able to have fun with the digital camera and iPhoto. The chance to edit the pics as I go is really appealing. I can just upload them when I get back on Monday night, and people will be able to see them on Tuesday. Roll on the digital lifestyle!
Oh, and it’s Lorna’s birthday. She’s 23. Again. She’s getting really good at being 23 - she’s had years of experience at it now. I’m meeting her at Penrith station (she’s coming from Bristol). Let’s hope she likes her present.
I’ve lapsed into online silence for a while, I note. Ah, well, real life must get a look in once in a while. Just in case you’ve been feeling a strange hole in your life where my little scribblings used to be, I’ll spend some of today playing catch-up.
However, I’d just like to sort out a misunderstanding that seems to have cropped up. Lorna and I are not married. Like many of our peer group who are in long-term relationships but not married, we count anniversaries from the time we first started going out. We get to reset - or claim two anniversaries - if we ever get hitched. It’s a sign of the times, I think. It’s strange how few of my friends have got married, given that most of us are busting the 30 barrier. My brother and his friends seems to be dashing down the aisle with unseemly haste, while us oldies hang around in our “Long term relationships” with our “partners” much longer.
That said, at the ball we went to on Saturday night, just before the final dance, a young woman rushed over to Lorna & I. “Are you two married?” she gushed, in a slightly drunken way.
We shook our heads.
“You should be,” she said.
Apparently she and her table had been watching us on the dance floor for most of the evening and had decided that we made a prefect couple. I don’t know wether to be pleased or creeped out that they were watching us…
Wisdom
As you go through life, you discover pieces of wisdom that you never suspected you needed to know. The latest piece of wisdom that I’ve discovered is this:
Never go to a party full of people you haven’t seen in five years.
Let me explain. Allie and Simon, friends of mine, have got engaged. After much hassling from Karl & I, they eventually caved in and held a celebratory drinks in a pub in the City. Lorna and I dutifully trooped along last Thursday. Given that I’ve known Allie for 10 years, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that there were mutual friends there that I haven’t seen in half a decade.
Why is this a problem? Well, because a few of them commented that I’d put on weight. Now, from my perspective I’ve lost a lot of weight. When I was in an unhappy relationship a few years back I ballooned. In the three years since I’ve been steadily shedding that weight. Still, from their perspective, I probably am bigger.
Ah well, I’m fitter and stronger than I was back them. If a little bulk comes with it - who cares?
More updates on previous entries:
The mice remain ravenous, eating four trays of poison last night. Mum remains disturbed by them.
The car was fixed, for only £150, and is now a happy means of transport once more. Lorna and I took it for a long run on Sunday, and it performed admirably.
Looks like we’re both finally over this bug, after two weeks fighting it. Hurrah!
Lorna and I’s anniversary celebrations ended up happening on Sunday night, not Thursday. The good side was that we had more time to enjoy them.
Mouse update:
My mum does indeed have mice. The local council’s pest control people are coming to sort them out in the next couple of days.
I think that she should just buy a cat.
I am a wuss. Oxford Street was quiet, the bank was fast and efficient and I have a lovely sandwich for my lunch.
Mmmm..mmmm.
I really should be at the bank about now.
Slept terribly last night. After a quiet, relaxed weekend with Lorna, my brother threw my life into chaos by asking me to participate in a financial transaction of his. Obviously, no detail here, but it’s something I’m not sure I want to do, but which I probably ought to do. I’m meeting him for a drink and a chat about it tomorrow. It was enough to keep my brain buzzing way past my sensible sleepy time last night, though.
I really should be at the bank, paying in a cheque, right now. But it’s Oxford Street and it may be horrible…
Work is quiet. There’s an argument in progress in the art department, but I’m ignoring that. I’m alternating between writing a feature and trying to understand Microsoft’s Passport and MSN Messenger. Heigh ho.
Oh, bugger it, to the bank I go.
An Unusual Situation - with an explanation
Well, as I mentioned in my last entry today - well, yesterday now given that it’s after midnight, marked two years of Lorna and I being together. We spent the evening several hundred miles apart. Did I mind? No, not really.
For one, she didn’t really have much choice but to be in Bristol. I can’t go into details, because it’s not really fair on her family for me to spill their private affairs all over the web, but suffice it to say that there is a situation that needs sorting and she has gone to make sure it gets sorted. The timing was out of her hands.
For another, well, this has been our life for those two years. Between my Dad’s illness and death and the on-going problems affecting Lorna’s family, we’ve had far less time for each other than we might have liked. Yet, despite that, we’ve always been there for each other, tried to have as much fun and we can and generally held back from hissy fits and drama queen moments when things have been rough. I’ve had relationships fragment under much lesser pressure than this. Let’s hope that we’ve proved the strength of what we’ve got in the last year, and that we get more chances to enjoy it in the year ahead.
Celebrations will commence in full on Thursday. I can’t wait.
Monday morning. With a sense of dramatic appropriateness, the world has decided to furnish us with a dull, grey day after a night of rain. London came back to work today, and it’s not happy about it. There’s a palpable sense of grimness and the air, and that fact that my nose is full of cold still isn’t helping.
Anther cheery entry to speed you on your way.
The good news is that tomorrow is my two year anniversary with Lorna. She’s still making me a very happy man. Long may it continue.
I’m such a soppy bastard.
Hurrah! A 17k piece of writing filed comfortably on time. Actually, concentrating on the last section of writing and a general revision of the whole piece kept my mind off this evil little bug that still lurks in my system. Now that I’m done, it seems to be dead set on reminding me of its existence. Bleurgh. Maybe I should push on with my next project to keep my mind off it.
Luckily Lorna is on her way over, so we can concentrate on being ill together in front of the video for the time being.
My Mum is scared. She’s heard sounds coming from the loft, and she thinks that it’s mice. She lives in a rural area and mice, rats and other vermin are pretty damn common, so I suppose it’s a possibility. I do think that birds roosting under the eaves for warmth during the sub zero temperatures we’re getting at night at the moment is a much more likely explanation, though.
It’s funny how you hear so many more sounds at night when you live alone. I’m the only one of my family who has any real experience of it. Mark has never lived alone, and Dad never did. I’ve spent the vast majority of the last three years living alone, and have another 18 months or so of solitary living under my belt during my time in this flat. It takes some getting used to, but you are definitely more alert to the smallest noise when you’re on your own. It’s probably just some survival mechanism, an ear for danger that allowed our ancestors to live. Pity it has to cost us the occasional night’s sleep now.
In other news, London remains disturbingly quiet. It’s obvious that the combination of many people still being on holiday and the train strike has kept the usual numbers of commuters, tourists and shoppers out of the city. You know, if London was like this all the time, I might still enjoy living here. instead, experiences like this just harden my determination to get out of London as soon as I can.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a persistent misery guts, so I’m going to start this entry with something good. I awoke this morning to the delightful aroma of fresh bread. My Mum bought me a bread maker for Christmas, and this was the first opportunity I’d had to use it. I put the ingredients (pre-mixed and shop-bought, I’m afraid. I am ill, you know) before I went to bed and set the timer. The result? Lovely fresh bread for breakfast. I couldn’t be happier.
Also on a happy note, Lorna and I dragged ourselves off our sickbeds and went to pick up Zoe (the car) yesterday. It took us two trips to get the battery out and the new one in, due to a lack of the correct tools. We then had a nail-biting ride through the rush hour, hoping that we got home before the battery gave out. We made it. Zoe is now in John’s tender hands, having a new alternator fitted. It’s handy living next door to a garage sometimes.
I’m back at work today, powered by the might of Lemsip and I might just make it through to the meeting I have this afternoon. Hurrah!
2002 was going to be the year things got better. Admittedly, 2001 was only really bad in one big and very specific way, but 2002 was going to be better. We’re now, what, just over 40 hours into the new year, and it has already been an unmitigated disaster. Let me present my case for this assessment:
- At the stroke of midnight, the start of the New Year, my girlfriend and I were in bed. Separately. At her Mum's place. We should have been at a party not terribly far away, but her cold was now so bad that there wasn't any hope of her being able to go. She and her Mum went to bed early.
On New Year's Day, the car broke down as we were driving up the M4. After an hour and a half shivering by the side of the road, the AA man turned up. An hour later he told us that the car was screwed and that we'd need to be towed. The tow truck would take six hours to arrive. We'd have frozen to death in that time. In the end, we bought a new battery off his as a temporary fix and gambled on getting home. We nearly made it. We had to abandon the car outside a pub and get a taxi home. We're going back for it with a new battery tonight.
Lorna's grandad has just been hospitalized.
What fun!
Christmas is Here!
Just back from Midnight Mass, and what a lovely service it was. Andrew gave a fantastic (and brief) sermon on fear - “The first thing you learn at Angel school is four words: Don’t be afraid” - that was wonderfully appropriate for us as a family this year. We sang, smiled and cried a little, but it was an uplifting experience. Fiona from next door joined us, and was a great source of support to us all.
After the service, we went to Dad’s graveside for a little while, and cried. I think though, that we all came away with a little more hope, happiness and joy that we’ve all felt for a long time. And that’s not just the Communion wine talking, honest.
Merry Christmas to you all.
Christmas is coming
This is going to be a strange old Christmas, for all the obvious reasons. There’s an underlying tension in the air at home, as the void in all our lives makes its presence felt.
Still, we’ve had beautiful snow already, everything is done and we’re all prepared to face the big day. Dinner and Midnight Mass are on the agenda for tonight, although I may try to get some writing done in amongst all of that. In a way, this may turn out to be a better Christmas than we’ve had in a little while. Last year was hard because Mark stayed in London with his then-fiancee and Dad was in a lot of pain. Mum’s expectation for the festive season have rarely been met since we passed through puberty.
Perhaps we’ll find something more to celebrate this year, despite our loss.
Well, the speech is done, and Prince Charles turned out to be witty, thoughtful and not a little controversial. I’ve bashed out a story on the speech and e-mailed it to the news editor, not that he’s answering his phone right now. Bloody reporters.
Ah, I’m really in the middle of an American tourist’s wet dream right now. I’ve just been watching a member of the Royal Family speak, and am now sat in a room with a superb view over London. listening to Big Ben chiming and looking at Westminster Abbey as darkness falls.
I suppose I’d better call the news editor again.
Eavesdropping is fun. The Prince of Wales' press team are giving a pre-conference speech briefing to some pet journalists. I, a random business journalist at the same confernce, am getting a fascinating glimpse into the sown-up work of royal coverage…
I Remember
I remember…
Coming back from a work lunch to see the whole office clustered around the TV watching footage of planes hitting the World Trade Centre. A major tragedy.
Talking to my Mum and then my Dad about it on the phone. He sounded vague, disconnected. Just over a week later, he’d be dead. Why is dealing with that getting harder? Sometimes the small tragedies are harder than the big ones.
For any and all who care, the pictures from my Scotland trip can be found here:
Everything from The Academy to the museum pics is the village where I grew up. Before that is Glasgow, pretty much.
I’m very pleased with this picture:
Good digital camera. Nice digital camera.