Doing a David

Attenborough, that is. Walking around this morning talking into my camera for a bit :)

Apologies for low quality and dodgy sound - I'm limited what I can do from here, but it was fun to have got something online so quick after taking it. Had *such* a fab day today, and also hit over 1000 miles in my hire car - and double-checked there's no mileage limit on it ;)

Stories

I had one of those "woah!" moments over the weekend.

I was engaged in a big ol' bout of tidying, organising, and filing. These things often tend to take me a while, as I can often end up getting distracted by whatever it is that I'm trying to tidy/organise/file ;)

I keep a lot of things (read: random old junk) that spark memories. Leaflets collected on holidays, train tickets, pieces of paper with random scribbles, ... Things I keep that I think may later prompt a smile when I rediscover them.

And it's true, many of these things do spark those memories, spark those smiles, as I later come to rediscover them.

But I didn't really specifically think about this until I found something that I couldn't remember the story behind. Certainly, regardless of what that story is or how long its telling would take, it will have a story. But it felt very strange to hold in my hand something I had chosen to keep, yet not to know its context.

This got me thinking about stories. The stories behind all the things around us.

Everything has a story to tell. From the big things everyone knows about - the stars and the sky, the rivers and the hills, the mountains and the trees - to the little things in forgotten places. Some of these things simply pass through our lives, no more than an idle narrative as the page is turned. Others are a part of the story. And there are so many types of stories behind these things. There are the technical stories and sentimental stories. The stories of where things came from, and the stories of what they were. The stories of things seen, and the stories of things cherished.

The tapestry of life is an ever-changing, ever-evolving wonder. I wonder how these things thread through it?

The pound coin down the back of your sofa. How did it get there? How did it come to you? What has it seen?

The flimsy piece of cardboard that was your train ticket for a day. What did it mean to you? What did you do on that day? Where did you buy the ticket and where did it take you? Where did it come from? Was it once a part of a tree in a forest near you? Or did it come from the other side of the world?

The notes you write for yourself. Reminders and things to do. Would you know now what they meant? Did you do them? Did something more exciting come up that you forgot? Or was there so much going on to begin with that you had to write them down?

A hundred million things pass through our lives, and every one has a story to tell.

I like blogs. Blogs capture a fraction of that most personal of stories, the story of ourselves. Why did you start your blog, and where did it take you? Did the very act of telling that story take it to new places?

We are absolutely surrounded by stories. Most sit, tantalisingly out of reach, hovering beyond our awareness.

I wonder where we would go, who we would be, were we to know those stories. How much would they teach us, and how much would we learn?

Everything has a story. Everything has at least a glimmer of true and absolute wonder behind it.

I am glad that we do not immediately know the stories of all these things, or I would not have thought to write about it :)

What fun would it be, without the mystery?

Minds are like parachutes

Just because you've lost yours doens't mean you can borrow mine.


Hehehehe :) Some of these things do crack me up :)

I mean, with things like:

Teamwork

A few harmless flakes working together can unleash an avalanche of destruction.

What's not to love? ;)

On a completely different subject... Last night was a big party night on my salsa calendar :) I always really look forward to and enjoy the big parties. The first one I went to in particular is special to me, because it was where I really realised it wasn't just something I did, but something I felt a part of :)

But they're also a lot harder work than a normal class - at a class, "all" you really have to remember is how to repeat what you've been doing. A lot of people tend to use the main freestyle section between the two sets of classes as a social catch-up, so it's also very easy to get caught up in that and forget to do any dancing ;) (Hey, there's always a lot of gossip ;) )

You see, as a bloke, the really difficult bit is being able to lead the woman. If you don't lead her, you'll just stand there trotting backwards and forwards for a few minutes ;)
The two sides to this are both in knowing how to lead her where you want her to go... and the hard bit... figuring out where you want her to go! :) Because you really can't remember a whole routine from a class very easily, and even if you do... They never last long enough, and you can't just do the same thing again and again for three minutes! ;)

So one of my best dancing nights was when I stayed dancing through several tracks of the freestyle section in a normal class and felt very "in the zone" :) (Being able to drink juuust the right amount helps too ;) )

So, when the big parties come 'round, I always felt semi-positive leading up to it (if also nervous), but then found I never felt I did enough dancing when there.

I was feeling positive about last night because I felt this month that I'd really clicked with my Cuban style. I mean I knew theoretically before that all I had to do was take moves from Casino Rueda (danced as a group) and apply them in a one-on-one basis, but it still wasn't easy.

Until last night ;) Phwaaaaaaar hardly did any On2 (which is what I actually have most lessons in), did a few Merengues and Bachatas... But mostly Cuban style all night :D And I mean pretty much all night :) lol, I really could have kept going after the party came to an end ;) And I danced with so many people! :)

I am so thrilled, I really am :)

I still believe that starting is one of the best decisions I have made in my life :)

Push the Button

Ooh! Exciting!

And here I am ironing my shirt.


Ooh there it goes! Into the chamber, now they're removing the 'cork'!

I mean I'm quite pleased for them that, on the whole, it's going so well so far. I mean it's not the sort of thing you can easily test, I imagine!

This is more exciting than I was expecting, I have to say.

I also realise that, in the very unlikely event that the world ended, I have in my heart always tried to do what I believe to be 'the right thing'. I am pleased to have regrets. If I looked back and saw nothing I regretted, I think that would be wrong. I hope I've learnt from them. You know, if the world did end, I think I'd feel at peace.

Whoohoo! It worked!

And now I can get back on with living :)

A Year On from a Long Week

I have fifteen posts with a Draft status. Some of them are duplicates, some of them are notes, some of them are only for me, and some are simply unfinished.

My Nan died a year ago yesterday (09/08/07), and it is her that this post discusses. Originally dated 23/08/07, I was writing it some two days after her funeral. I can remember starting it. I cannot remember why I did not finish it.

I can also remember that it was a very intense week, that week last year. Perhaps this is why this random day in the middle of August helps to split the year up for me and acts as a time of reflection. Or perhaps there's some great cosmic energy that leads me to reflect in August, as I seemed to spend a lot of that month last year in contemplative reflection.

Let's leave that reflection there for now. This post is not about me. It is about my Nanny.

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So, that's my Nanny in with my Grandad. For the easily confused, the gravestone hasn't been added to yet.

It was slightly strange how just as we arrived at the church (two limos following the hearse) and got out, the rain absolutely began bucketing down. Mum said, "Mum, I thought you'd have been looking down on us and given us nice weather."
Several people said it was a shame. It occurred to me to ponder saying at the time something about that the sky was crying. I later settled on pointing out that a popular expression for such things was that the heavens had opened, so this was also perhaps a good sign.

They are the closest people to me ever to have died, my Nanny and Grandad.

Having lived further away for several years, I think it has lessened the impact somewhat, though.

It hit my sister just before the start of the service. Next-door-but-one neighbour (who had agreed to sort out the teas for the wake) had hopped around to the front to ask, "Are you ok, Monkfish's Mum? Are you ok, Monkfish's sister?" - at which point it hit my sister. Ironically, she'd been the one most telling my Mum that she should try to be strong and not cry too much during the day.

My sister says that her greatest recollection of our Nan is just of her laughing. Not at anything in particular, just in general.

I guess I can see that too, and a few random old tales of having fun.

At 84, my Nan was the oldest of seven. They used to have to sleep two to a bed. She remembers asking her Mum when she was young whether she could have a dolly. "You don't need a dolly, you've got the real thing to look after," she was told.

During the war, against her mother's wishes, she jumped at the chance to sign up and help out. She was stationed around the country as a cook. She loved it.

We used to see Nanny and Grandad every Saturday. We'd get there in the morning, have lunch, then somewhere between just Mum and Dad and all of us would go to Asda to do the shopping.
One of the best bits was after the meal! :) When it came to... running into the cupboard to search out what tasty yummy things were in there today! :)
Hmm, I can remember often a packet of Mr. Kipling Vienese Whirls would be found :)

But but but it was even better when their old friend who used to make cakes had given them something! Cor, some of them were absolutely delicious :)

After my Grandad died, my Nan had a fall once where it took her several hours to be able to make it to the phone. After that, my Mum was able to convince her to move. My Grandad's family had lived there for more than a century - he was born in that house. When it came up for sale, my Nan and Grandad were able to buy it with the help of a loan of a hundred pounds from a well-to-do friend.

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It was a curious place to have left it, but half-way through that paragraph is all I had written. My Nan moved into a bungalow around the corner from my parents, my sister buying a portion at the same time. I don't think they ever told Nanny how much it cost. My sister lives there now. She has the concrete frog that my grandparents used to have in their garden in hers still.

It is bizarre, the memories that make us smile :) I remember sitting on that frog as though I were riding it. I remember walking around the fields out the back of their house; I remember going for bike rides when I got to stay there for a few days on holidays; I remember my Grandad always used the outside toilet, even although they had had one inside since my Mum was a girl; I remember playing upstairs with a box of old jewellery - once worn, a ring gave its wearer magical powers; I remember playing Snakes & Ladders; I remember... so many happy memories, and I am glad that this post helped focus my thoughts to such places :)

Shoe Inflation

You know, I remember that this time last year, I had three shoes.

Well, not three shoes, three pairs of shoes. I can remember this because I remember feeling pretty chuffed when I bought that third pair, because they were in a style I hadn't worn before, and I remember I bought them when I'd gone to buy furniture, and came home with a new coat and a pair of shoes ;) It's a pretty common confusion. Furniture. Shoes. See? I mean, they both... often... involve legs... *cough*

In fact, I even was so excited that I even blogged about it at the time :)

As I looked at the line of shoes under my bed the other day, it kinda struck me that things have moved on a bit since then.

I now have eight pairs of shoes. Eight pairs!! Good grief, what am I doing with all these shoes!? :) I'm pretty sure I still have just the two feet ;) And even more bizarrely, I'm also pretty sure I've worn all of them at some point in the last month.

For the easily confused, I don't mean at the same time ;)

Whatever happened to "work" and "not work" ?

Chuckling Upon Reflection

As I recently reflected upon my last couple of counselling sessions, I really did have to chuckle to myself.

Allow me to summarise two consecutive weeks:
Week A: Ask myself fewer questions. Stop weighing up all of the possibilities and be more spontaneous.

Week B: Ask myself more questions. Stop to fully consider their answers and consequences.

Hmmmmmmmm! :)

Ok, in fairness, that's over-simplified and out of context. It actually does make sense (to me, at least, and that's what counts) when in context. No, really, it does! ;)