In These Shoes?

Last year, I made three New Year's resolutions.
1) To give up alcohol.
2) To write in my diary every day.
3) To be celibate.

Number one was easy and I congratulate myself on that.
Number two was going great until I spilled tandoori chicken all over the diary rendering it useless and smelly.
Number three was practically sorted with the occasional fumble off the wagon in rare moments of disgraceful behaviour.

This year, I have some new ones.

1) Pay off as many debts as I possibly can.
2) Lose more weight.
3) Try out that old celibacy thing again.

The first one will be hard. I am going to try my hardest to restrain myself from spending when I don't need to (I don't mean I am going to resort to stealing or anything criminal like that! Heavens to Betsy, what a notion!)

The second one will also be hard, but I have had a good start already. I have lost six kilos in the past two months so it shouldn't be too hard to shed a further six.

The third should be easy enough. I just have to stay as I am and I'll continue to repel any interest with my lack of pheromones.

Let's just take a look at the weight-loss malarkey.
As you may know, I do like to walk and I intend to do a hell of a lot more.
There will be a strong attempt to walk to work and back more often than before, but I will also try and take more rambles during the weekends.

Today being the first day of 2010, I made the effort and went out for a long walk.

The walk is 11km (6.84 miles).
It took me 1 hour and 50 minutes (or 28 Beverley Craven Songs on the iPod) and I came home to a nice bowl of vegetable soup.

The following image shows you the route I took.



I will attempt to find other routes to keep things varied and I imagine I will be putting these trainers through some torment. But if it helps me lose weight and keep me fit, then all for the better, I say!

I Am Afraid

I am afraid I may have been mistakenly recognised the other day. I was leaving the city and as I walked towards the train to return home, a man stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me with his mouth gaping slightly and his head turned as I passed him and headed to the carriage. No, this was not a look of 'Phwoar, there's a hottie if ever I have seen one!'. It was more of a 'Fuck! That's the man who killed my brother eight years ago during our trip to Cape Cod!'
So, if I am slaughtered due to a misunderstanding, everyone will know why.

I am afraid for the finale of the Tenth Doctor. I was slightly disappointed with part one of this final adventure (but each Christmas special has been tarnished with a slight sadness as I tend to be more melancholic at this time of year - the first Christmas Special was wonderful, but I was in the UK for that one). I just hope the finale is mind-blowing and spectacular, for I'd hate to see a departure as bad as 'Carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice...'

I am afraid that this forthcoming year is going to be a very tight one. Last year's New Year's Resolution was to give up alcohol; I managed that successfully. This year's is to do what I can to pay off as many debts as possible. So expect me to be a little less social and a little less extravagant with gifts.

I am afraid to say that my heart was broken over Christmas. I have been a massive fan of Victoria Wood's for so long (since the mid Eighties) and I was so utterly disappointed by the tediously unfunny Christmas special. It was like finding out a dear friend has been arrested for rape. I just hope this was a minor and brief glitch. She needs to write for the people she knows well and stop trying to accommodate today's youth culture. The whole show was a crushing embarrassment.

I am afraid for my friend, Gareth, who is back in hospital again post surgery. I don't know all the details as yet, but it does make me sick to the stomach not knowing and I hope to see him soon.

I am afraid of humans, especially in large groups and under the influence of alcohol, drugs and/or religion.

I am afraid of moths.

We'll Never Pass This Way Again

I know it's a terrible cliché, but this year certainly has flown by. I think it is the quickest year I have ever experienced. Is it because I am getting older?
A common notion amongst my friends is that 2009 has been a reasonably rotten year with the scales tipping heavily on the crappy side, despite the occasional highlight desperately jumping up and down on the other side. One may like to blame the global financial crisis or the alignment of the stars or maybe the old man who spits at the pigeons in the park; but whomever you blame, there is no escaping it. 2009 was not the best of years.

There were a handful of good moments. The absolute pinnacle for me was the wedding of my dear friends Adam and Louise. I'm not usually one to go all weak-kneed and teary-eyed over the old matrimonial displays, but to see this wonderful pair declaring their love on the most perfectly beautiful of days was rather magical. I half expected animated woodland creatures to bashfully sneak towards the gazebo as the wedding vows were spoken.
Another couple of friends, Tina and Stuart, also got married but I was unable to attend for a number of unfortunate reasons, but judging by the photographic evidence, the Disney animators weren't kept out of pocket that weekend either.

My mother's visit was another highlight. Although it was an extremely busy few weeks with lots of theatre visits, dining out and socialising, it was still lovely to spend time with her. I was genuinely a tad forlorn when she left.

2009 was also the year without alcohol. I decided on New Year's Eve that I was going to attempt to get through a year completely sober. I am proud to say that I managed perfectly easily. I was expecting cravings but the only thing that happened was the infrequent dream of me gulping down some wine and panicking that I'd ruined my goal.

I also had a few decent work-related incidents to keep me feeling robust in my skin. I was astonished to receive the innovation award at the Summer conference for the extra work I had done. I also won a prize for raising the most money for a conservation charity on a sponsored walk (albeit a team prize - "Go team!" - *shudder*).

Self-improvement is always a plus to be grinning about and with thanks to my (beautiful) doctor, I was able to blitz some of the frustratingly persistent warts on my fingers and also had the astonishingly ugly cyst removed from my back.
I have also managed to shed a few kilos through exercise and being more careful with my diet and I intend to shift some more over the coming months. I was frightened into it by the ludicrous Body Mass Index which pointed a gnarly finger at me and shouting "overweight" at me (a finger with a mouth – intriguing).

The harder, and dare I say 'shittier', things that have happened this year have involved a number of friends. Some friends have treated me somewhat badly. I am not writing this as a vindictive tell-all in the hope of getting sympathy because those who know me well are aware that I am not that sort of person… generally speaking. I won't go into the details here because;
a) you don't want me to bore you and
b) just thinking about it hurts, so heaven knows what writing about it will do.
So, I shall leave it as a mere footnote to the post*.

The absolute worst part was seeing a very close friend of mine go through a rather horrible time when he was diagnosed with a brain tumour. Thankfully, the surgery went well and he came out fighting the other side. He’s rather indomitable and we are all grateful for that.

On a lighter note, let's take a look at a few superfluous and trivial highlights.

My Favourite Albums of the Year:

Close to Home – Beverley Craven
Beautiful Mess – Swing Out Sister
All in One – Bebel Gilberto

My Favourite Movies of the Year:

I Have Loved You So Long
Julie & Julia

My Favourite Books of the Year:

Handling the Undead – John Ajvide Lindqvist
The Enemy – Charlie Higson
The Help – Kathryn Stockett

My Favourite TV Shows in 2009:

Pushing Daisies
Torchwood: Children of Earth

Biggest Disappointment:

The so-called 'gap year' for Doctor Who.

Can we take a year off when we're a bit tired? No.

Bah!

Other Highlights of the Entertainment Variety:

Finally getting the soundtrack to Alexander's Ragtime Band on CD
The double disc set of Fred & Ginger at RKO
Watched loads of I Love Lucy, Buffy, Farscape and Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

Oh, and there was the wonderful "Pie Day" in which a handful of friends and I spent a day watching a marathon of Pushing Daisies and eating pies.

So, that was 2009. Focusing on the better things is a much better thing to do, rather than wallowing on the negative aspects. If 2010 can have more 'happy' moments, I'll be glad.

Have a great Christmas everyone and a splendid New Year.



*The Footnote: Some people are cunts.

One Good Thing

What a madcap week! One of the most intense weeks I have experienced in quite some time.
The epic stadium of theatrics began on the evening of Friday 20th when I received a text message from my ex-boyfriend's partner asking me to call him. When I did, he informed me that our mutual friend had been diagnosed with a brain tumour and he had been admitted to hospital urgently and was awaiting further news.
When a friend is in trouble, I switch into 'Emergency Ben' mode and suddenly become rather efficient and focused. I just wish I could be like that more often without the triggers of other people's incidents.
I visited whenever I could and provided levity for that is what I do in situations of gravity, I simply cannot help it. It lightens everyone's mood and helps me to cope with the nastier side of life, so it’s a win-win situation.
What humbles me the most is how incredibly brave my ex has been whilst facing such danger. His attitude has been indomitable and that sort of strength touches my heart.

It was also a very sad week for a school friend of mine whose brother had gone missing (back in the UK) at the weekend and appallingly, was discovered dead a few days later. I felt so utterly helpless and saddened by this news, but the outpouring of support online via facebook was incredibly touching.

During work hours, I was kept occupied with doing two jobs. For those who aren't in the know, there is a guy at work who deals with all the sales material, proof reading copies and posters etc for the sales department and also handles the mailing out of larger items around the country. Due to his long-service leave, he is able to take time off quite frequently and I am more than happy to cover his job whilst he is away.
This involves me juggling my own job, his and also spinning a few plates all at the same time. Normally, I am quite adept at this sort of thing – the busier I am, the more in control I seem to be, but I think with the other things going on, I became a little bit frazzled this time. Sure, the heavy work load did prove to be a distraction at times, but when I stopped for a breather, I often felt overwhelmed by it all.
I hesitate as I write this for I don’t want it to sound like I'm making it 'all about me'… I don't want to be one of those people who make other people's severe problems into their own personal drama. That's not who I want to be.

On the Thursday night, I attended the book launch of acerbic journalist Catherine Deveny's third book of collected columns. It was a terrific launch and Catherine was her usual brutally hilarious self. Early on in the evening, she announced that she knew a guy whom I should be introduced to, so I waited around for a while as the book signing shenanigans continued and eventually she introduced me to one of her colleagues. "Michael, this is Ben, he works for Penguin Books. Now, off you go…" and she gestured with flapping hands for us to talk as she dashed off to attend to her adoring fan base.

I said to Michael; "I can get up on stage and tell jokes, sing my heart out and perform in front of hundreds, but I am hopeless at introducing myself to guys!" which, ironically, proved it wasn’t true as it seemed perfectly acceptable as an introduction.
We chatted for a while and then Catherine joined us before driving us to the Retreat pub in Brunswick (with a few other people in tow – I could tell a story here about the events of the trip and the discussions involved, but that's a little more private than I think you'd want to know about. Let's just say that conversation revolved around a certain operation I once had and Catherine proved how crippling funny she can be, even whilst driving.

At Retreat we had dinner and had a good old chinwag and lots of laughter. A few of us even played Spin the Bottle (albeit with a knife) which I have never played before and, despite feeling deliriously immature, really enjoyed the thrill of it.
Michael and I got on rather well (Well done, Catherine) but I couldn’t stay out too late as it was a 'school night', so I caught a taxi home.

So, with two jobs, a friend in hospital, a death and an unexpected night of near-debauchery, I had experienced a manic week.
The recent weekend which followed was thankfully a peaceful one. I was unable to visit my ex as he was still in the ICU post-surgery (they were only able to remove half of the tumour as the other half is attached to too many vital parts of the brain) but he is out today, back in the wards.
Chores were done over the weekend and I baked a couple of cakes. The highlight of the weekend was having a sort of 'date' with Michael. He came over and we had an afternoon of DVD watching with some pizza. We had a splendid afternoon and it was nice to finish off a run of heavy days with something so pleasant.

What I find difficult to reconcile is this feeling of guilt. Here I am enjoying this one good thing that has happened to me while other people are suffering. The juxtaposed emotions are conflicting and I am awash with tension as I try to do what's right.

Golden Heart

Heaven knows I am not the easiest person to live with so I am impressed that Mum managed to get through three weeks in the same apartment without throttling me.
Having lived alone for the past six years, I have become a little set in my ways. Not that this is a bad thing, it’s just awkward when people come to stay as it can be a bit of an intrusion, no matter who it is.

It had been three years since mum had last visited and back then it was with other family members. This time, it was just the two of us and I have to admit I am rather grateful about that. Sure, there were occasional moments when I could have done with some personal 'down time' and I did become a little exhausted with the itinerary I had organised for her – I only have myself to blame for that – but having the chance to spend some quality time together was pleasant.

As with many family relationships, there is a bond which transcends the tensions and conflicts which often arise when in close proximity for a long time. We may have had the odd minor snap between us (usually through my own impatience), but each time it was dispelled with a touch of humour. Both of us despise conflict and although this can be a flaw in some regard, it can actually be a blessing between two like-minded people.

We had great enjoyment attending various theatrical events and eating out at numerous restaurants and cafes in and around Melbourne. My wonderful friends were often on hand to assist with invitations to their homes and meals out.

Some of the best times were had when it was just the two of us discussing our own lives and our individual idiosyncrasies. Mum and I share a lot of beliefs and values. We often share opinions with each other that we may not be able to repeat to others for fear of being chastised. It is moments like these where I feel an emotional and spiritual intimacy with my mother and although we do not agree on all things, there is an unquestionable understanding between us.

From my Mum I have inherited a lot of qualities but to itemise them here would reek of egocentricity and I fear I do enough of that already, albeit it self-deprecatory mainly. Oddly enough, we also both share similar insecurities, so we can find solace together when necessary.

Mum has a gentle soul and a golden heart and it has been a pleasure playing host her during her stay

Halloween

Ah, my favourite night of the year (I sound like Tim Curry in that old film version of The Worst Witch! Not a great film, but worth seeing for Tim, Diana Rigg and Fairuza Balk. The Bonnie Langford song could have been dropped though!)

Halloween (or 'hallowe'en' if we want to be pedantic!) has always had a special place in my heart. I love the darkness, the creepiness, the spookiness and the all-round silliness.

It's a day that always reminds me of my dear friend Alison as it felt like it was our day. Alison and I have always had a certain penchant for the occult and the supernatural (without actually being satanists, although we have experienced the occasional worrying look for conservative Christians in our time) and we often hung out together for the big night, be it a large fancy dress party or a small gathering of like-minded folk.

One of my favourite memories was one weekend in Bangor. Alison was there at university and I visited for the weekend. We were in the habit of giving each other gifts for Hallowe'en back then and I gave her a mutilated barbie wrapped in plastic and called it a 'Laura Palmer' doll along with a vacuum packed bag of cow's blood.

Ah, sweet Halloween.

Another year, back in 1992, it was an unusual year because I didn't have anything planned at all. My family were out that evening and I was staying in alone. I had a bath early in the evening and I went into my bedroom and switched on the TV. I sat on my bed, wrapped in just a towel and I began watching the BBC's Ghostwatch, starring Michael Parkinson, Sarah Greene, Mike Smith and Craig Charles.
90 minutes later, I was still in my towel and transfixed!
It was such a scary programme, there were rumours of people committing suicide (well, one rumour...) and many people genuinely thinking it was a live piece of television. It was compared to Orson Welles' War of the Worlds (not Jeff Wayne's - thank god!)
The BBC did get many complaints and got into a bit of trouble for it and so they promised not to air it again. It was finally released on DVD by the British Film Institute in 2002 and I bought it whilst in London visiting my friends Jamie and Kevin. Watching it then, older and wiser, I was still thoroughly spooked and I still get chills now just thinking about 'Pipes'.

Sadly, I have to also mention my dear friend Kirsty Steele who has since passed away. Kirsty was such a wonderful person with a gentle heart. She used to hold parties quite frequently at her home and hallowe'en night was no exception. Of course, they were fancy dress! One year, I went as 'The Dread Pirate Roberts' from The Princess Bride (although everyone thought I was Zorro) and another year, I was dressed as Frank N Furter from Rocky Horror (although people thought I was a whore). I even have a picture somewhere of my beautiful friend Rhian, tied to Kirsty's mother bed, dressed as Regan from The Exorcist ("Your mother's a biology teacher in Cheshire!!")
Kirsty passed away about nine years ago and she is often in my thoughts. So tonight, I shall raise a (non-alcoholic) glass in memory of her, of great nights in my youth and also to Alison, my dark-soul-mate without whom I would not be the same person today.

Dancing in Limbo

Having watched Julie & Julia for a second time, I began reassessing the nature of blogs and what it is that makes one more successful than another. My rather embarrassing need for attention, fame and approval is one of the reasons behind this rather inept display of prose which clamours for some kind of recognition out there in the infinite web.
Julie Powell had a raisin d'etre, a deadline and blogged far more frequently. I seem to embrace the true definition of random and I mill aimlessly from one topic to another.
Granted, I do not curse as much as Julie, but I don't think I am any less verbose or entertaining.

Reading back that last sentence to myself. I see the pretension some have witnessed in my personality before, but I believe in speaking my thoughts and if I do come across as a bit of a pranny at times, then so be it. Those who know me have an understanding of my true nature and welcome it like a jolly yet slightly irritating uncle at family gatherings.

Before I digress further into the psychoanalysis of my own personality types, let me return to my original point. Blogging. What makes it interesting? Over the years of writing my own personal diaries and - in later years - online, I have noticed a pattern in my style. I begin with great enthusiasm and futily attempt (and fail) to emulate some high-brow academic with awkward turns of phrase and misplaced witticisms. Over time, there appear to be days when I become rather lackadaisical and pore out the most tedious drivel stating where I went, what I did and who I met without any depth or colour to the scene. It's like having a TV marathon starting with I, Claudius and ending up with Neighbours.

One also has to be careful about what one writes. I have often deleted sentences, paragraphs and, on occasion, entire blogs for fear of being reprimanded by readers - but there I go again with the rather egotistical notion that people are reading and/or give a crap.
Does one ignore these little fences of security and express oneself to such a degree that followers bristle with vitriol or should one stay safe and post pictures of kittens eating brocolli?

Then I wonder how much of my soul I should convert into written text. I have been criticised before for thinking too much! Seriously? Can one think too much? I believe it simply makes me more interesting that I don't accept things at face value and that I like to plough through the depths of meaning that is layered before me.
It is far more fun to question things, expand the perspective and stand in another person's shoes. Sure, I may come to the most absurd and incomprehensible conclusions at times, but the journey is the most entertaining part.
Although I do tend to wear my heart on my charity-shop-purchased sleeve, I like to imagine it heightens the interest levels to a degree beyond 'tedious'.

So, to conclude, am I dancing in limbo? Is this a mere excercise for my brain and my qwerty-happy fingers? Will there be a satisfying denouement or will it peter out like a long-running TV show which has emptied the barrel of high-concept ideas?
Maybe someone will read this and leap back from their screens in a blissful act of serendipity after a misplaced Google 'I'm Feeling Lucky' search and scream from their luxury apartment that they have discovered the next Oscar Wilde (Well, while I'm being an egotistically-driven megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur, I might as well go whole-hog, right?) and the next thing I know, I'll be a household name, like 'Toilet Duck' or 'Durex'.
Or maybe someone will tap me on the shoulder politely and then, as I look around, punch me in the face for being a pretentious bumhole and subsequently break my fingers for the sake of humanity and literature.
I expect it will be somewhere between these two extremes. Until the day of revelation comes, I shall continue to do my quickstep across the keyboard and hope that this limbo is not for eternity.

Postscript: If, like with Julie Powell, someone wants to make a movie about my life, I quite like the idea of David Tennant playing me. He'd have to eat a few pies first though.