Life in the middle

Happiness is.

Last night I started smoking. I grabbed a beer in a local public house, and lit up a Camel cigarette. It seems like a great way to not only reduce lung capacity, but also poison anyone who is near enough to inhale some of the smoke. I think you'll acknowledge that it also looks pretty cool. I've decided to hold my 'fag' in the manner demonstrated above. It gives off a powerful, yet thoughtful air, I'm sure you'd agree.

So from now on, if I'm out in public with friends or family, say at a restaurant, a club, a strip joint, or even at work, I intend to light one up and enjoy the remarkable benefits that smoking brings.

Cheers.

The week.

It has been a week since I posted. There are lots of reasons for this, but mostly it's to do with not having very much to say about anything. Now I know this hasn't prevented me from writing this blog for over a year now, but combined with a rather stacked diary...

...this had led to a cessation in blog activity. It's now a bit like the early days when I first started doing it - pretty much writing for myself, knowing there was not that many people reading (beyond the thousand or so hardcore fans), and I quite like that - feels like I'm testing the water again.

Anyway, enough nonsense, here are some clips from the week.

I started the week with a slight eye swelling, which is always useful in securing agreement on a brief.

I watched an account man, enlivened with excitement and fervour for the work, almost burst out of his skin with excitement as he explained all to the client.

I rode the carriages.

Appeared, in all my glory, on CCTV.

Thought a problem through, or doodled, depending which way you look at it.

I saw fashion first hand, and it wasn't pretty.

And I added my signature to a worthy sentiment to a parting colleague.

So that was me. What about you - what were you all (or both of you) up to this week?

Saturday.

The rain and the gloom came, and I watched.

The gloom stayed, so I read.

I interacted.

And finally I deactivated.

These are the bits and pieces of life, slipping along, day after day, always forward.

Cheers Orange.

Gosh! I've just come off what I can only describe as one of the most unexpectedly pleasant telephone calls of my life. I phoned Orange with not a small amount of fear, seeking to try and make a claim on my mobile phone insurance. I was fearful because in my experience these matters tend to be dealt with by habitual misers and dullards. The most laughably stupid and gormless of the cerebrally challenged. But not this time. No this time, I got an extremely nice gentlemen (from one of the regions), who, very professionally, took all my details and processed the claim in about 10mins. He explained everything as we went along, why he was asking the questions he was asking, and how the process worked. Then, rather astonishingly, asked me when was the most convenient time for them to courier (yes I said courier) my new handset to me - today? Tomorrow? Can you believe that.

So well done Orange. I'd buy you a drink, but you're a large corporation that has no mouth, and that takes no joy from alcoholic consumption, so I won't.

(Obviously I reserve the right to change my mind about this whole process when my new phone doesn't turn up. Good morning.)

UPDATE: Phone arrived this morning as promised. Well done Orange.

That was then.

I found some pictures today on Thomas' Facebook page, a few of which were taken just before the avalanche.

It's interesting, and a little freaky, to look at them now, some 3 months (plus) after the event. It's now a story I've told many times, been through in my mind many times, and thought about many times; both when awake and when asleep. And yet there is still something - some little part of my memory that is activated and alerted by seeing these pictures.

I'm happy, content, and relaxed in place that I would now find a little of nerve wracking.

And little things are different. The weather is worse than I remember.

The experience more lonely (I was sure Thomas was always by my side, rather than some way behind, as these pictures suggest).

And it all just looks a lot more dangerous. But I suppose that's what hindsight does to you - it makes you re-evaluate - it re-washes events in the light of later experience.

That was then, but some how not.

Interesting.

(Picture via Bowbrick)

It was Interesting 2007 yesterday. Loads of people are writing about it, so I won't bother with a big description or anything - not really my style.

I only have one brilliantly stupid thing to say, and that is that I found it interesting. Sure some was too long, some too short, some too random, and some not random enough. But it was all interesting, really interesting. I now have head full of stuff, of things, of conversations, of words, of pictures, of sounds, and of tastes, and of ideas. And if I'm not wrong, that was the point. So thanks to Russell for making it happen, and to Arthur for being up for a play fight when everyone else was talking about grown-up stuff.

One of the strange things about the day for me was how nervous I got when friends of mine were about to speak.

I knew Beeker would be good, but still couldn't help but get a little nervous just before she went on. Of course she was great, talking about The Muppets and some Dutch bloke.

(Pictures via RooReynolds)

I also got a little tense before Sophie Dollar went on. During the break, before she was on, we grabbed a coffee together, and I was able to get a little slice of the trepidation she was feeling. Which of course was misplaced - she did a brilliant job - explaining why Cezanne thought fruit such 'fine fellows'.

Well done ladies (and everyone else), and thanks again Russell and Arthur.

Ps. I can't find a picture of Tom, but he was magic too - 100% nuts - but bloody magic.

Dad...

...as a keen golfer you've taught me that it's okay to wear pink, no matter what people say. That it's a fine thing to do to buck the trend, to say "to hell with it - I fancy wearing pink, and a suspiciously female pair of sunglasses".

You've also made me realise that there is rarely better time spent, than that with a cup of tea in one hand, and a newspaper in the other - looking after the mind, but also the soul.

And while I may walk my own path, I walk it like you - head down, bobbling along, always slightly off balance, pondering the world, and getting slightly lost along the way.

Thanks Dad, take it slow, and be careful out there - Happy Father's Day.

Mind how you go.

So for the last 3 days I've had the mysterious 'Walton Fiver'. We've speculated the what, when, where, why, and who. I've folded her, unfolded her, and twiddled her lightly and nervously. But now is the time to send her on her way. The time to give up wondering and pondering. Tomorrow I will take that most splendid of fivers, and exchange for some goods - perhaps a paper, or some gum, or maybe some novelty dog shit.

But just in case someone out there comes across her, and knows Kate Walton, and fancies revealing all, then I've put a little sign-post on the other side - a little trail of bread crumbs if you will.

Lady Godiva.

Finski's come your way, change in a shop, out of a cash machine (though not so much anymore), in that 'cash in hand' plastering job you took on for the friend of friend's sister's mate Joe. They come, and they go. They do their job, no fuss, merely the promise of value.

But then one will come your way and make you stop, and think. Look at the note above. I pulled it out of my wallet this morning as I prepared to go to the shop (for a paper and some milk). As I removed it from my wallet I notice that in large blue capital letters it has the name 'KATE WALTON' written on it. I looked at it, and wondered. Who is this Kate Walton? And why did someone write her name so clearly on a five pound note? The way it's written suggests whoever wrote it felt it was important. I'm was left wondering why.

Maybe it's code. A secret code, words that unlock something very secret and very private. Maybe someone was on their way to an interview, so nervous they couldn't remember who they were meeting, and decided they needed to remember for sure. But then why write it on a fiver? Maybe it's a note to me - someone placed it in wallet. Trying to tell me that the name Kate Walton is one I need to remember. Or maybe someone used to go to school with someone called Kate Walton, who was the exact spit of Queen Elizabeth II, and they just fancied letting the world know.

Either way I'm going to be spending the Walton fiver soon - needs must and all that, but do let me know if she comes your way.

The best by far.

I really like John Candy, his films always make me laugh. This is my favourite clip from any of his films. It's five minutes long, which I know is a long time in this day and age, but go with it. Live a little.

Dim the lights, and all rise for 'old melanoma head'....