fyi

Three o'clock in the morning, eating cheese on toast and really rather drunk is not the best time in the world to start your eight week course of anti-malarial tablets.

It seemed like a good idea at the time though.

flux

I watched the sunrise yesterday. Old friends and a bottle of whisky and there it was. Erupting from the water, molten gold spilling over the sapphire sea. 

I'm packing again. Well, I should be. My home, job, place in the universe are all in a state of flux. Questions hang overhead while great voyages and adventures lie just around the corner. I need some manner of space. Downtime. Breathing room. Call it what you will.

It's not going to happen though. 

Life doesn't have a pause button. Only fast forward.

Deep breath. 

It's all just going to move faster. 

Before I know it I'll be somewhere else.

Even if I'm still here.

a wedding memory

I was a bit drunk, so I'm not sure I remember her name.

In fact, I don't.

But we had a lovely chat.

She was too lovely to be so upset at such a lovely party, and I told her so.

confined to memory

I remember the night. A flat party of some description. Bell Street - it was the first time I'd ever been there, but not the last. If I wasn't drunk it was because I couldn't afford it. Thirteen years ago. There was a lot of banter. It was mostly a theatre crowd. It may have been a cast party, I'm not sure. If it was then it was only twelve years ago, not thirteen. 

Furniture wasn't necessary. A bunch of us sat on the floor. She lay on her back with her knees up, chatting away. She was conducting. The conversation in our group centred around her, she guided it. She shot down my lame attempt at chatting her up with a smile. 

We flirted anyway. Kind of. Circular banter, that went round for the joy of it. It was almost like a contest. Almost. Maybe it was for her. It might have been for me too. It was fun chat. That sort of vivacious conversation that gets the head and heart going. We introduced ourselves. 

Her name was Fiona. One of maybe a dozen Fionas I knew at that time. She was from New Zealand, so she was Kiwi Fi. 

We both did theatre, but never the same show. Our circles of friends overlapped. We worked together on a committee. She was incredibly bright, witty and fun to be around. When I think of her, I think of that night we met in a flat on Bell Street. 

She took me aback. 

It's so clear, that night. I remembered it again when she dropped me a line a few months ago. A brief electronic chat. She seemed well. 

She died this past weekend. 

The world is poorer for it.

There's a tribute to her here.

a word on pictures

Due to indecisiveness I am now using both flickr and picasa. This is hardly newsworthy I suppose, and certainly not the sort of reflective chronicling I do on this page, but I thought my faithful dozen or so readers should know. I like picasa for its file management and flickr because it's quirky and the photo quality is far superior. Its file management is, sadly, rubbish and unintuitive. 

So I've broken it down like this -

Party, people and events shots are going on picasa. It's easier for people to browse and whatnot.

 

Arty, landscape-y, abstract-y pics will go on flickr. Because they look better there. And context is less of an issue. There may still be people shots, but probably not portraits. Unless they're particularly arty, landscape-y, abstract-y or some combination of the three.

I'm updating both sites today with shots of France and the wedding I attended. Have a look. The flickr page allows you to comment, so please feel free. 

Preferably more frequently than you do here. 

waiting somewhere.

Delayed flights bring all manner of reflection and observation. Humanity drifts by, most of it generally impatient, waiting for a call on the loudspeaker or staring at the departure board. Some catch up on work, or read. Blackberries abound, laptops (like the one I'm typing this on) slowly drain their batteries. The sight and sound of someone shuffling a real deck of cards is pleasant, and has the ring of timelessness and antiquity. 

It's all some manner of escape. Some form of being somewhere else, of building a wall, of avoiding the grubby, anonymous sterility of their surroundings. They're somewhere that's on the way to somewhere else. Occasionally, there's a look of impatient excitement. They're on the way to somewhere special, perhaps for some special reason. It's nice to see. As refreshing as the sound of cards shuffling. 

I've travelled a lot recently. Well, relatively. I've driven thousands of miles round-trip, crossed four countries. Somewhere special, for something special. I haven't quite taken it all in yet;what I've seen, what happened. There's no respite. Reflection happens infrequently or all to often. You see more in it than what was there in the first place. 

And so I sit, waiting for the plane to board. My headphones are in and my fingers tap the keys. I've built my wall and I'm safely not here. 

I stare in the mirror and see more in it.

Too much. 

small note

I am in the South of France. I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't want to leave, but that's the way it goes. 

One of the greatest weddings I've ever attended took place yesterday. The memory already gives that warm feeling - a glow of comfort and fondness. I played my part. 

I want to stay here. 

But I'm looking forward to home.

not much

laugh and the world laughs with you.

bitch & moan?

you bitch & moan alone. 

That's about all the chat I can summon. I'm older since my last post. I've taken a lot of pictures. I've been to London and back. 

improving moods and sea mammals...

The seals seemed happy. I think they might even have been frolicking. 

We sat out on the deck of the beach bar. I had a beer. The others had drinks of more than one ingredient. Mixers, spirits, fruit - that sort of thing. 

I kept it simple. 

I don't always. 

The clouds hung low but the breeze didn't chill. It was mild. The deck heater helped. 

And a little further up the beach, the seals seemed happy. They frolicked. One slid from one pool to the other, slipping into the water with barely a noise. The other posed, flexing on the high wall, aware of us watching. He looked awkward when he changed position, uncomfortable out of water. After he posed he dropped into the water with a belly flop and a tremendous splash. 

We laughed, for a moment, before he shot like a bullet into the other pool, as graceful as his friend. 

Between their escapades we talked in relaxed tones. The banter ranged, but nothing deep. The shallow questions, tame and easy. No urgency, nothing pressing, no weight of the unspoken suspended in the air. No deeper than the seal pools, and just as contained. No need for the wild, just to unwind. We sipped our drinks and decided it would be a quiet one. 

It isn't always. 

They quieted down, their evening play complete. We finished our drinks and wandered out into the still night.  

501...

This is my 501st post on this blog. And it's a link post. I know that's a bit of a cop out, but that's just the way it is. I'm kind of in a bad mood. Kind of grumpy. And this cheered me up for a bit. So I'm sharing it. 

I hope you enjoy. You should. Aquatic mammals are cool. You have to be Norwegian, Inuit or Japanese not to think so. 

St Andrews sits under a cold, grey duvet today. That's not why I'm grumpy. It's just why I'm not wearing shorts and flip-flops.