This Is This

I like Halloween. Having missed the boat on organised religion and coming from a disfunctional family, Christmas was a time of mixed emotions. Even now, as a dad, I follow the lead of Wife when it comes to getting into the spirit of things, because I an sceptical and analytical to a fault and of a melancholy disposition. And I use words like disposition.

But Halloween is all about fun. No gifts, no gatherings, no “they had us over last year”s - just creativity and fun. I carved a few pumpkins, and put a knife into my thumb, as is the custom. Wife was listening to me from the other room as I carved the four pumpkins using a variety of implements. Every time there was a grunt of frustration from me, she called out to see if I’d cut myself yet. I called back to reassure her that I was in no hurry and that the pumkin had simply rolled off the baking tray again.

But once the suspense had built up and she couldn’t take it any longer I placed my left thumb on the blade of a grapefruit knife and lined it up on the pumpkin. Grapefruit knives are fairly blunt at the end but have sharp serrated edges, so you need to build up a lot of pressure to push them straigh down through the skin of a ripe pumpkin. Once that’s done, though, the blade and the teeth go through the soft pulp very quickly, taking with it the edge of the thumb steadying the blade.

I announced to Wife what I had finally done and she grabbed the nearest set of plasters with red smiley crocodiles on, just to add insult to injury as I whimpered “but it really hurts” and “now I’ll never be able to finish my pumpkin”. Wife have given birth to two children without a complaint, and I imagine she was thinking what a lucky woman she was as upwards of a dozen drops of blood flowed down my thumb and into the sink.

I say “dysfunctional” with the greatest respect to my parents who tried very hard to make it work, even past the point where they should have stopped trying. We have feuds that would make Wuthering Heights look like the Cosby show. We were ahead of our time with dysfunction. Both grandparents divorced and had more kids, my folks divorced, my aunt and uncle divorced.

None of these make me interesting, but I saw this quiz and started filling it out. It made me feel very lucky and very guilty for ever feeling bad about my life. Bold text means it’s been done.

1. Bought everyone in the pub a drink - but we were the only ones in the pub
2. Swam with wild dolphins - they were some way off, but yes
3. Climbed a mountain
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
5. Been inside the Great Pyramid
6. Held a tarantula
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
8. Said “I love you” and meant it
9. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watched the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten my own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg - No, been among them and touched a glacier
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby’s diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse - Grand National 2000
30. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight - I am the KING of snowball fights
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse
41. Ridden on a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking - like a fool is the only way I know how to dance. Suffice to say, I was very, very drunk.
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states - done 20-ish
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip
59. Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice
61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland (see 46)
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records
70. Pretended to be a superhero
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret it
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn’t have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Rode a gondola in Venice
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
105. Got flowers for no reason
107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone - but got shit kicked out of me - haha!
123. Bounced a check
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour - unintentionally - The Cure kept turning up everywhere I went
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written to your government representative
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
134. …more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge - driven over it a few times
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
138. Had plastic surgery
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived - to be honest the odds were in my favour every time
140. Wrote articles for a large publication
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone’s heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone (see 122) and other occastions
150. Killed a human being
151. Gone on an African photo safari - a very crappy one, more of a road trip in which we saw some monkies
152. Ridden on a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major surgery
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon - only at the top
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime
173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name - well shortened it
178. Petted a cockroach - I hate them with every fibre. I have touched plenty - I CRUSH them!
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad
181. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
183. …and gotten 86′ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions - I am a bit of school reunion geek
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196. Dyed your hair
197. Been a DJ - on radio and at parties
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via Blogger
199. Written your own role playing game
200. Been arrested - only been cautioned

If the numbers don’t add up it’s because I took out some of the very rude ones.

I went to a cafe at lunch. It’s a themed Irish sandwich bar which serves Italian coffee and snacks. You have to admit it’s a marketing dream. They play Enya and U2 while you sip your moccachino and read the marketing leaflets on the tables. It’s kind of like being in a plane in that you have no choice over the piped music and there is free corporate literature. The place is called O’Briens and they are a rapidly expanding company. In fact, according to the leaflet, there are 6 O’Briens in the Central Business District of Singapore. Except that I mis-read it, and thought it said there were 60 Briens in the Filipino CBD, which struck me as a strange statement. I thought about this briefly, and as far as I was concerned good luck to them. I wondered how many Aquinos there were in Killarney.

There’s a line in the film Hi-Fidelity about compatibility and the chemistry between people. John Cusack’s character, in one of his pieces to camera, says about the laws of attraction: it’s not about what you’re like, but what you like. In other words the stuff you’re into IS who you are. I’d go along with this to no small extent.

How many times have you thought you didn’t like someone until you discover that they are a fan of something similar? Then if they like that, they probably like something similar, which led to the discover of something else you which turned you on to this, which they don’t know but they would love to discover. We consume our needs because we like to feeds our very nature and nourishes our soul, and that nature always comes through in our interests.

I watched some tv last weekend and here’s the sum total of what I tuned in to:

The West Wing
Everton v Southampton football match (we won and Chelsea lost and Man United drew, so we are still third)
An E! biography of Kevin Spacey
Later with Jools Holland (very impressed with Estelle) (US readers, this is a live music show which features a handful of live band across a wide range of musical styles)

Reading this back I realise how these programmes sum up my character. From just a few telly shows you can glean more information than I could write in an afternoon of adjectives. I could go into it, but I’d be wasting my breath - you know the shows better than you know me, so once you know the shows, you know me. Crazy when you think about it, but if you get what I dig, you’ll dig, dig?

With new wet wellies we went woodsward at the weekend. At the end of one narrow path through the trees there stood two horses. I have known these woods since before I could walk and I didn’t know they were there. No one I know who lives here has ever mentioned it. But there they were, and we walked up to within 10 feet on them and they came two feet closer still, acknowledging us with steaming snorts in the damp silence of a wet morning.

They didn’t seem to mind and we appreciated their company. The kids just accepted it as two horses, but to me and wife it was something just short of magical. Kids are funny. They see what is there, they accept it, “can I have a cookie”. I guess this is the same open mindedness that lets them accept a 7 foot talking bear playing a trombone in a parade. While dad thinks “wow, that guy must be hot in there” and “so how is he moving his eyes?”, the kid thinks “hey, I’d like a trombone.”

This weblog - what’s the big idea? There isn’t one. For someone who toyed for the last two years about whether or not to have a weblog, I sure seem to have a lot to say. I finally decided to have a weblog for the following reasons:

Information
People ask what I have been up to and I always say the same thing, normally something very generic about work or the kids at school. I don’t go into minute detail, because it seems too trivial when someone asked how you are doing generally. They want a summary, and that’s not how life works for the most part. Life is made up of the details, some of which are recorded here as a point of reference. How am I doing? I am doing fine. That’s that and this is this.

Motivation
I am going back to writing my book, and the weblog is an exercise in how to get back into the discipline of writing. Sure, I could tell myself I will write, but I’d only give up. I’d promised to stop smoking for years, but it’s only when I told everyone I was really giving up that I kicked it. I’ve no problem letting myself down, but I have an aversion to looking like I’m full of shit and that’s a great motivator. More about the book later. I started loads of diaries when I was younger and gave up after a few weeks. I could dig out a decade worth of childhood thoughts from January to mid February. This time I have started in October to kick-start the diary process. This method, combined with the Gobshite Avoidance Technique, should produce the 5.9 gig watts of motivation needed to sustain a weblog the course of a year. Time will tell.

Entertainment
I’ve found myself reading a few weblogs over the last few weeks. Some were dull, some were interesting, some were downright hilarious. I started shifting my perspective from “what’s the point” to, “I could do that”. Once I get a links section done, I’ll share these out.

Ego and the E-go
I tend to talk about myself an awful lot. I’ve have been very lucky in my life (and also very unlucky, but who hasn’t) and it seems that anytime someone is telling a story about something extraordinary, I can relate that to an experience of mine. Trouble is, I almost always have to share that experience. Double trouble, I can sometimes top it and steal the thunder, and that’s not cool. Wife says it’s one of my biggest faults and it’s true. Friends think it’s an interesting strength and it might be. But it makes it look like I’m not listening so I guess the wife is right again (which is also her strength and weakness) So maybe if I write about myself in a weblog, I can shut the hell up and listen in real life. (Which I do by the way, I just move the conversation on a bit and talk about myself). It doesn’t really work to listen in a weblog.

So anyway, what about you? How have you been? Hmmm… really?!? No kidding. A spatula? Wow. Mine was a ladle. Big thing it was, with a wooden handle. Of course these were American ladles which are much bigger than the ones you’ve seen….

I saw this and thought of me. This quiz was online and I took out some of the more personal questions about sex and regret and crap like which historical figure you most admire and the ones which you answer and they make you look like you are showing off.

But you’ll get an idea. Ask yourself these questions sometime. It’s not easy.

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Sitting outside with people I love

2. What is your greatest fear?
Without going into too much detail, feeling helpless while others suffer.

3. Which living person do you most admire and why?
The Dalai Lama for his humility, eloquence and good nature.

4. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
The way I start something with the interntion of finishing it and then too easily get

5. What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Apathy

6. What has been your most embarrassing moment?
1977 -I thought I saw my mother out of the corner of my eye. I tugged her sleeve and called said “Mummy” and when I looked up it was this long haired biker guy.

7. What vehicles do you own?
A four wheel drive thing and a bicycle.

8. What is your greatest extravagance?
Cuban cigars and Peroni beer

9. What objects do you always carry with you?
Keys, phone, wallet containing: organ donor card, picture of kids, note from wife, fortune cookie from a New York Chinese restaurant which says “The day will happen whether or not you get up”

10. Where would you like to live?
Distance and expense being equal, I’d say Seward, Alaska hands down.

11. What makes you depressed?
Lack of sunshine and boredom. Contradicts the above I know. I’m a complex individual.

12. What is your most unappealing habit?
Going off in my own little world or behaving in ways which don’t make me or others happy.

13. What are your favourite smell?
Italian food, fresh bread, chickory coffee

14. What is your favourite word?
Time

15. What is your favourite building?
Goodison Park

16. What is your favourite journey?
Driving from Nice to Italy on the basse corniche

17. What is your favourite book?
The Singing Wilderness by Sigurd F. Olson

18. What is your favourite fantasy?
Complete financial security, perfect health and never having to sleep.

19. How will you vote in the next election?
That is a good question. I don’t know the answer. I think Labour need a good spell in the wilderness, but I don’t want to see my country go to ruin.

20. Should the Royal Family be scrapped?
No, but they should be equal to the rest of us. Until that happens, the whole argument of everyone being born equal is just bullshit.

21. Do you believe in capital punishment?
No

22. For what cause would you die?
I would die to save the lives of others. How many? Depends. A mum and a dad maybe, 25 strangers, a heart surgeon, one child? Tricky to say, but answers like “freedom” are just too glib.

23. Do you believe in monogamy?
Yes, but I think people enter into it lightly or don’t take it seriously

24. What or who is the greatest love of your life?
My family

25. Which living person do you most despise and why?
Bernie Ecclestone for being greedy and cunning

26. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Discipline

27. Have you ever said “I love you” without meaning it?
No

28. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Cheers, fuck, jesus, right

29. How do you relax?
Playing guitar, gardening

30. What single thing would improve the quality of your life?
Not having to work for a living, although I would still work.

31. What would your motto be?
Per ardua ad astra (Through our struggle, the stars)

32. What keeps you awake at night?
Things left undone.

33. How would you like to die?
Suddenly, without pain and with no regret. Also something clean and quiet. I’d like the death itself to be low-key.

34. Do you believe in life after death?
No, not as such, but I believe your spirit continues after you are gone. If it doesn?t then the laws of energy are wrong.

35. How would you like to be remembered?
That Cliff - nice guy.

36. What is the most important lesson life has taught you?
You get one shot - use your time constructively, productively, be strong but remain flexible and always trust your instincts.

Pop Quiz (Introspective) A clunky title, I admit, and it was originally “Introspective Pop Quiz” until I thought it sounded like a questionnaire about The Smiths back catalogue. The quiz is introspective, not the pop. Right? Well then maybe I should scrap it then and not have a quiz at all. Is that what you want? Why do you have to be so difficult? You don’t understand me.

If you have an argument with someone, try walking around in their shoes for a bit. If find you’re still angry, who cares? You’re miles away and you have their shoes.

Kerry fever is reaching epidemic proportions right now in the UK. I’m all for him, if that’s who the United Statesians want to elect. But if people can’t be bothered to vote, how much do they deserve representation? A vote is a voice. Rock the Vote, on principle, is a fundraiser, and it’s all geared up by the Democrats. Ah, but it’s OK, say the liberals because corporate backing is buying votes. I bet Bruce Springsteen has just as much money as anyone working at BP Amoco, and I bet he sways more votes. (I know he’s not buying legislation and that’s not my point). Dixie Chicks, James Taylor, Beastie Boys - you think these people are impartial when it comes to politics?

If Kerry does win, and I hope he does, one question I’d like to ask him is “How does it feel being to be elected by people who really weren’t that bothered to vote in the first place.” Hanging chads, slackers, what’s the difference?

I bought some petrol for the car today. I had a fiver on me, so I wanted to put five pounds in. I overshot it and ended up with £5.09. Bugger.

I went in the shop and handed over my card to a man in his mid 40s, well dressed and of Middle Eastern descent (xenophobe-aphobes bear with me, this is relevant).

“What pump please?”

“I don’t know, that one.” I pointed to my car, the only one in the service station.

“Five oh nine.” He pushed the receipt towards and pen towards me.

Then he started belting out a tune in Arabic rai music style, complete
with wiggle and hand movements, singing “OH NINE OH NINE OH NINE! OH NINE OH NINE OH NINE!”

I chuckled away as I signed and handed back the reciept.

“Have a good day today,” he said.

A little silliness goes a long way.

Footnotes:
A xenophobe-aphobe is a person who is so afraid of themselves or anyone else appearing racist that they any mention of someone’s ethnic origin is a damning indictment of our world and and encitement to riot. Largely wankers, they have too much time on their hands and are noted for worrying about what the words of decent unbiased people infer rather than what they mean. These are just my opinions. If you don’t like them, I have others.

I was going to start this blog out as just being about me. However, in my life that’s difficult, because it isn’t just me. I was going to fill the pages with my observations about life without revealing anything about my family or friends because it’s not fair to include them in something so public and unregulated as a weblog. But my family and friends are my life, so I’ll try to fill you in to a respectable degree without compromising my privacy or theirs.

Cast list: (In order of appearance)
Me (Cliff Jones, your narrator, about which more later)
Wife (without whom, well, anything)
Son (4)
Daughter (2)

It’s almost as if I planned it, but today’s post is to do with all the the previous posts combined. Wife is at the funeral of the person who died futher down this page, so I’m doing the school runs today. I like doing the school runs, it makes me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.

After picking Son up, I have to floor it to get to the other side of town to pick up. I am a young dad and I am always dressed scruffy on my days off when I do the school run and I always think I look suspicious rushing him out of school. Especially as the other parents (99 per cent female) are dressed well and have buggies and time to chat to the other mums they know from PTA meetings and coffee mornings.

As always I parked in the rudest place possible to make a snappy getaway, pushed to the front, smiled stupidy but said nothing to abyone before grabbing Son and running back to the car.

To shave off precious seconds, we cut one the corner to get to the car, and ran across a verge in front of someone’s house (stalker notes: lives in the country). When we got to the car I lifted son up into the car and I saw mud on one shoe. So much for the shortcut. He tucked the shoe under his other leg as I lifted him into the car. I don’t know why he does this. Italways gets crud all over the seat, but kids are wierd sometimes. And then it hit me - it wasn’t mud. His shoe, the seat and the backs of both trouser legs were covered in dog shit.

(shifts up to present tense to convey sense of urgency)

So I’m running late, with an exhausted shitty four year old in tow. I whip off his shoes, thanking Mr Velcro for changing the world in his small way, and put them in the back of the car. “Son, don’t touch anything. Put you hands in your lap and hang on.” It’s already time I was across town. Daughter will be waiting in an empty classroom when I get there. Maybe one kid might have stayed behind to laugh at her. I can’t give Son any of the snack I packed for him, because he might have dog turd on his hands and I don’t have any wet wipes. In fact the only good thing is, he thinks it’s mud. I maintain the illusion by driving at 60 miles an hour with all four windows open, even though it’s raining.

(shifts down to past tense so as not to further labour the grammar)

When I got to Daughter’s school, I had to leave Son in the car because it’s either that or put him back in crappy kickers. I parked in the rudest place again so I could see him the whole way to the school door. I also have to put the windows up and lock the doors, since he’ll be in the car alone. With the windows up, I thought the whole mud myth was going to be exploded. Surely the penny would drop. The penny of poo.

When I reach the school, there is Daughter with two teachers and the picture she drew for me. She looks happy to see me and the world is good again in an instant.

“Uh oh,” says one teacher, “looks like someone forgot her folder.”

It’s true, I forgot to got pack her book bag this morning. “My fault,” I say, “I forgot to pack her bag.”

“Typical man,” she says. I almost couldn’t believe my ears, and I kept my eyes fixed on daughter as she ran towards me. But the teacher went on “a mum would never do that. Leave the man in charge and something gets forgotten. Typical man.”

Political correctness is a good thing, in balance, but it doesn’t extend to groups that society doesn’t see as underpriviledged. It seems like selective fairness to me. Can you imagine if a male mechanic said something similar to a female driver? It would make the papers. If this has happened to you, you’ve every right to feel outraged, but please don’t write in.

The Stupid Fucking Things I am prone to saying welled up inside me. In my head, it went something like this:

“This is my fourth school run today. I’ve taken the day off work because my wife is burying a friend. You can be sexist if you want - it’s a free country and I’ll defend your right to say what you like, but try to keep your views away from my kid. And I think I’m holding the fort pretty well, thanks. There’s a four year old covered in shit in my car, which, after cleaning him up so I can give him something to eat, I will have to disinfect in the rain before I scrape the now drying excrement of his new pair of school shoes. And then when my wife gets home I will cook a meal for us and wonder if there is anything I can do to console her at her time of greaving. So lady, yes, I forgot the folder, and I am a man. I am a man without a folder, OK? Un homme sans cahier, if you will. Perhaps you could further enlighten me with your powers of observation by identifying a mystery substance I have in the back of my car? If you wait one second, I’ll be right back.”

But I say nothing, because like me in the post the other day, she knows very little about my day and she also probably says things without thinking them through. Maybe she’s writing her blog right now about the stupid thing she said to this dad who smelt a bit funny. Thinking of that kind of makes it seem funny. I also think I better give Son a bath.

Footnotes:
I always sound like a pompous arse when I complain about something. Some people become the victim, some become agressive - I become Cary Grant, full off sincere observations and witty retorts. I get tempted to prefix statements with “why -”, as in “Why, I could have you disbarred”, or “…so in fact what you’re saying…” then changing the meaning of their words a little to prove my tangient. Maybe it’s to belittle my opponent, or maybe it’s because I am a pompous arse. “… homme sans cahier” - twat.

I woke up to the sound of the rain and lightening flashing off the ceiling. The walls of the bedroom are deep red so they don’t reflect the light. It’s good to have some real weather for a change, instead of grey English skies and soft drizzle.

So I got up and walked to the bus stop, feeling pretty down, all told. I was tired and getting wet on my way to a bus shelter to join the other commuters for the ride into London. Then someone I know quickly shuffles under the shelter. I don’t know him as such, we mostly nod good morning and that’s about it. But he looked stressed out this morning. “My car,” he said, “I’ve had to leave it in the road.” He pointed behind him and I craned my neck out of the shelter to get a better view. Water poured on the back of my neck and ran down my back.

His car was literally in the middle of the road, blinking wet clouds in the spray around his hazard lights as the rain pelted an abandoned Volkswagon. The bus appeared round the corner. If I were to miss it, it would be an hour until the next one. “You can’t leave it there,” I said.

“I know,” said he.

“OK,” said me.

I turned to another passenger I don’t really know, a lady called Sarah or Sylvia I think. “Can you watch my bag and try to hold the bus,” I said, “Don’t worry if you can’t, just get on if he goes,” and we set off running down the road, cars swerving around us in the dark and rain. I worried that my jacket was dark green and drivers wouldn’t see me running down the road. It amazes me how people don’t turn on their headlights in the morning or when it rains. In France it’s the law.

“I’ll push!” I yelled at him over the traffic and rain. He nodded and opened the door, pushing and steering at the the same time, his suit was getting drenched. He wasn’t wearing a coat even though it had been torrential all morning.

A few other people from the bus stop joined in and we moved the car off the road and parked it on a side street and ran back.

The bus was still there. They waited for us. Sarah/Sylvia was standing in the shelter holding my bag and umbrella, waiting for me before she gots on the bus. The car was parked and the road was safe again. Wet suited driver man was going to work as planned. I took my stuff and got on the bus, drenched, and the driver said “community service today” at me, I smirked and said thanks and squelched past him. Thirty other passengers are looking up smiling at us.

Wet suited driver man sat opposite me and said “thanks” and I said “no problem”. The world is good. I even remembered there was a spare pair of shoes under my desk of work. Of course, the pair under my desk are the waterproof ones, but that’s life and life’s OK.

Footnotes:
I don’t mind them being red. I am told it looks OK. I am colourblind, or to be more accurate, have Colour Perception Disorder. This means that red and green look the same to me and all the hues in between are just baffling. Grey and pink look the same, I can’t tell the difference between blue and purple because I can’t see the red element in it. I can’t read green writing on a red background, I can’t tell if a channel is on or off on a mixing desk, I can’t see a cricket ball in the grass.

I can see in the dark really well which is part of being colourblind. I can also read upside down as fast as I can the right way up. I don’t think this is to do with colourblindness, it’s just wierd. In fact, if you put a book on a record turntable and set it going, I can read that pretty good while it spins round.

I say stupid fucking things all the time. They aren’t what I mean, they don’t represent my nature and I’ve no idea how it happens, but I can say some really stupid things. They tend to be worse if I have more warning that I’m going to need to say things, and of course, those are exactly the times you don’t want to say anything fucking stupid.

Last week a close family friend died. She was old and frail, but she died suddenly and it was still a shock. So one day everything’s fine and the next my friend, her son in law, is cleaning out her flat with his grieving wife.

That evening I go round to see her son in law and wife, and on the drive over there I think about what I will say. I consider the greeting card cliche of “I’m thinking of you at this difficult time”, the formal but standard “my condolences” and the relaxed but glib “sorry about what happened” but none of them seem to fit without sounding forced and insincere.

When I get to their house I still have no idea what to say and I consider walking straight through to the kitchen and making them a cup of tea, because I’m English and that’s what we do in a crisis. He opens the door and I give him that smile. You know, the one which is only with the mouth; like a wolf. His wife makes me a cup of tea and I sit down. I look at him and say “Tough day, huh?”

He looks at me, nods into the distance and looks into his tea. I weigh up the merits of a biscuit, a kit kat or the earth swallowing me up.

My guess - it’s kind of an existentialist statement. I am not an existentialist, but I do think they are kind of cool. The line is from the Deer Hunter. I am not a deer hunter, but I think it’s a great film.

The title This Is This also comes from my inability to describe what it is that this site was when I started it in 2004. It’s just some of … what it is.

It’s a “thing” thing. It’s specifically haphazard and haphazardly specific. It’s a website just like millions of others and the more I try to make it sound unique, the more ordinary it seems. This site is just what it is, hence the title.

Robert de Niro’s character says it to John Cazale’s character as he holds up a bullet: “Stanley, see this? This is this. This ain’t something else. This is this. From now on, you’re on your own. ” The line is put across with purpose but is essentially meaningless, alot like this weblog.

I wrote a song called This is This, so in a way my weblog now has its own theme tune. How cheesy is that? Maybe eons from now this blog could play the song as the page loads.

Footnotes
John Cazale’s character ’s reply, by the way, is “This is this…what kind of faggot bullshit is that?” If anyone wants to create an anti-Cliff Jones weblog, that would be a good title. I should tell you now, I am not gay, and I do not approve of the word “faggot”, but in the context of the film, it sounds OK as a derogatory term in a discussion between two blue-collar Italian-American hunters from Pittsburg. Also, eons these days are about a month and a half.

Right, let’s see - where to start, where to st- ah yes: the album. I am cowriting an album which will probably take years to complete.

I’ve always dabbled in songwriting and grew up listening to jazz and the old traditional songwriters like George Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Irving Berlin and Cole Porter. As I got older I got into more folky stuff like Jackson Brown, James Taylor and Joni Mitchell, and now I finally listen to stuff of my era, like Elvis Costello, Neil Finn, Counting Crows and Dixie Chicks. It only took 30 years, but I’m finally up to date. On the plus side, in five years time I might be listening to music that hasn’t even been created yet.

The album. The working title is Twice As Far Again. We thought about calling it Between the Water and the World. I think that’s a fine title, were it not for the fact that Pete already has two songs called Between the Water and the World, namely Between the Water and the World Part One and Between the Water and the World Part Two, so I think calling the album Between the Water and the World is a bad idea. Pete is the other guitarist.

The band is called Midas Blenny and the work in progress can be found right here.
My own songs, some of which will be on the album, can be found here.

I’ll keep this blog updated with, erm, updates about the album but rest assured that, although I may go on about it, that is not the purpose of this blog.

This blog is just a sample of stuff from my life and while I don’t attempt to sum it up in a few short entries, or try to capture my thoughts for an unsuspecting and largely apethetic world, I hope you get an idea about one person’s life through these entries. Not for my benefit, but for yours and the greater understanding of what other people get up to. If you find that it’s very similar to what you get up to, that might be a sign that that we’re not all that different. If you find that it’s nothing like your life, well, then you just might learn something.

Cheers.
(I say cheers far too much)