I’ve been a bit lost recently.
Not the ‘manfully driving around tiny country lanes refusing to ask for directions’ or ‘wandering around the local Lidl licking fridge windows’ kind of lost but the listless, lacklustre, (alliteration ridden) lost of the middle-aged, middle-class man. A man in the middle of his life, struggling between the sweet dreams of ambition and the painfully setting concrete of reality.
Is this ‘The Crossroads’ that they sing about? Am I standing on a dusty intersection in Buttfuck Idaho playing a beat up guitar hoping that a demonic venture capitalist will snap my soul up after they spot it on Instagram? Is this the beginning of the end and therefore the end of the beginning? Am I at a junction with choices or have I arrived? Destination: Middle Of The Road.
Continue reading “Lost in the mist…”
As we all know commuting to work adds a certain drudgery to the day’s proceedings; the stuffy, crowded train carriage where you rattle to work with your head lodged into somebody’s armpit. Continue reading “I’d take the train…”
Last week I watched all of my surf videos. Even Blue Crush.
It started as an attempt to lift my spirits – to whisk me away to foreign shores where perfect waves meet perfectly placed boards in an inspirational aqueous ballet. Continue reading “Day 35 of the mumps saga…”
I have a blog. If you’re reading this and you weren’t aware of this fact then something is wrong…
In fact I have three blogs. And a Twitter stream (again, in reality there are 3). I also have a plethera of facebook pages, mostly lying comatose in the dank and dusty corridors of a virtual hospice. Continue reading “Caught between a rock and a social networking stream”
Papersurfer junior, a few days before his eleventh birthday, was in a reflective mood. He asked myself and Tango (grrr) if we had any thoughts on what happens after death. ‘Did we believe in Heaven?’ or ‘reincarnation?’ or ‘are we just worm food?’
Continue reading “The Butterfly Effect…”
The soothing sounds of Lionel Ritchie and the Commodores melt over you like maple syrup over a hot stack of pancakes. Fresh coffee is poured at a respectably late hour, the woodstove wraps the house in a comforting glow and the sofa beckons for a day of lounging and relaxing. Continue reading “Easy like Sunday morning…”
In a cold flurry of golden leaves, autumn appeared from nowhere, bringing brimming dark clouds, sharp winds and the smell of woodsmoke… Continue reading “Mushrooms and mimosa…”
There is the distinct odour of change in the air – the local train station is to be transformed into a ‘Metro stop’, promising Continue reading “Progress report”