Stopping time

I have few honest passions in my life, the kind where I am happy to just while away a complete day doing nothing at all except it and blissfully happy that I am not actually wasting any time but doing something really challenging, constructive and creative at the same time.

 

Writing is an absolute joy and a much needed release when I am in the muse, but although I rarely have bouts of writers block per-say I would never say that I could easily spend a full dawn to dusk writing without getting pangs for something else to think about.

 

Warhammer model painting I find arduous and finicky at worst, thankfully over at best, but a prerequisite for a good bundle never-the-less.

 

However ... give me plenty of strips of balsa wood, a tub of glue and throw into the mix some cocktail sticks, a scalpel-sharp craft knife and a few suggestions for battlefield terrain, barricades or fortified strongholds, and you have enough ingredients to keep me amused and in truest element until such time as my fingers are caked with glue and I can't physically do anything until the last lot has dried.

 

In fact, despite having a supposedly 'respectable' London nine-to-five job, I have made myself late on many occasions by staying up well past the midnight hour crafting my latest piece, and then getting up extra early next morning to put in a few last minute finishing touches, losing all track of the time and missing my train to work in the process.

 

So when I decided not to cancel my weeks holiday after my ex failed to get her visa, it should be no surprise to anyone what I got up to with the house all to myself, as soon as the light through my open blinds woke me up.

 

That's right, I got right to work on the Dwarven Mile Gate Mountain Fortress construction that I have been modelling for some time, and carefully using the scalpel, some left-over artex plaster and scavenged polyfoam blocks, began to turn a few broken bits of the packaging into the two sides of a mountain.

 

With patience and deliberation I used the artex to cover every inch of the white blocks, and slicing off sections of the foam, I used its bubbled surface to best effect amid the plaster for a natural rough-and-ready textured look.

 

Pausing only for a few hours to play snooker while the base layer was drying, I put in a good eight hours of time and effort into getting the desired effect, and with a daring base coat of blueish grey and black smudges, I was content that my best piece of work thus far was well on its way.

 

Knowing that my friends are coming round for a battle tomorrow, I very sensibly decided to put it all away back down the cellar to harden and dry, well away from prying eyes of touching fingers.

 

Slowly and carefully I picked up the model from close to both ends, avoiding the still wet and unset artex and paint, and carried it to the top of cellar stairs. Having already wedged the door open, and switched on the light, it was still a tight fit getting the meter long wall round and into the doorway. Once through the doorway I then had to navigate down the stairway, both steep and low of ceiling.

 

Realising that the only way I could get down the stairs was to tilt the model I was able to get at least half way down before the inevitable happened.

 

With timing that even a pro on the comedy circuit could not better, I saw in perfectly slow motion the wet artex start to stretch, pull away from the cocktail sticks of the foam blocks that I was holding and arc gracefully down towards the bottom step. Thankfully I have always been an avid followed of Red Dwarf, and similar sci-fi shows and novels, so I instinctively knew exactly what to do.

 

In the split second { that seemed as long as an eternity } before the fallaway part hit the floor, I let go of the other piece and pressed the secret button on my time-stopping wrist watch. It is amazing that this little gadget is not more widely used, as it gave me a clear ten seconds to collect and carry the mischievous piece of work to safety, before returning to where I was and once again take hold of the main bulk of castle wall before the rest of time restarted.

 

And then, with the sudden pang of reality, I remembered Kryten reminding us that 'there are no such things as jet-powered rocket pants outside the fictional series Robbie Rocket Pants' , and also for that matter, neither are there any such things as time stopping watches or hologram six foot blonds that will fulfil your every wildest fantasy.

 

Nope, what else can I say but the truth, which is that I had to watch in slow-motion as almost a full days effort and labour of love hit first my raised foot { the most I could do to prevent a complete disaster } and then the stairs with a splattering thud, with the impact succeeding in launching a multitude of faster moving dark grey globules of wet artex in all directions.

 

There are no words in any language for what really ran through my mind at that precise moment, but if there were, they would all be more obscene and hard hitting than any you have heard from even the worst Tarantino villain or backstreet gutter urchin. At that moment I hated gravity, the architect who designed my house, the guy who invented plaster artex, every scientist that ever lived, every comedian that ever lived, Games Workshop for not providing battle scenery for free, my friends for their planned visit tomorrow and most of all myself.

 

Half an hour later I had cleared up enough of the larger pieces, in the hope that when they finally dry they can be used somehow, and then settled down to compose my emotion and write this entry in the hope of trying to help exorcise the recently created potty-mouth demons inside my head.

Travelling

Just a sudden thought to anyone reading this blog ... some people may think that I go looking for travelling disaster hot spots to write stories about.

 

To challenge and refute any such claims, let me just use my last entry as confirmation that these things not only can, but regularly do, happen to me anywhere and at any time.

 

I managed to get stranded in a town, not even thirty miles away ( as the crow flies ) from where I live, at no later than 8.30pm on a Saturday night and without any uncrossable body of water or mountain as a natural obstacle to getting home.

 

And EVEN WHEN the trains DID start running in my required directions again, it STILL took me over 4 hours to travel the distance back home.

 

QED :- it is not that I am out to find bizarre or unreasonable travel stories, it is just that they are as much a part of my everyday life as eating and sleeping are to yours.

 

... Oh and if anyone is thinking, why didn't I just jump in a cab the whole distance, it's cos Barclaycard in their infinte w*nkeristic wisdom, decided to reduce my credit limit by half ... and did this first thing on Saturday morning after posting me a letter informing me of this, that was sent no earlier than Friday night.

Tunbridge Wells

This should have been a wonderful weekend and an equally uplifting blog entry.

 

Planned were a trip to visit my Romanian friend who currently lives and works in Tunbridge Wells, a trip to the cinema, a warhammer battle and my nephews "turning teenage" birthday party. All in all, a lot to look forward to and only the threat of more strong winds could possibly have dampened my spirits.

 

When I left home just before lunchtime on Saturday I was in fine spirits, and this was in no way diminished by having to change three times to reach my destination.

 

As planned, Dana was there and ready to meet me on the platform and together we went for a spot of shopping and a few drinks in her local, where her Swedish friend works.

 

If I ever start to get a big head believing that I am a true globetrotting adventurer, it only takes a quick chat to her to convince me I've still a long way ahead of me to catch up with her. For she is not only living in a foreign country, but holding down a job in that country, speaks at least three languages fluently ( maybe even more, I can't remember ), goes on REGULAR trips abroad with her other friends, who also happen to be foreign nationals living and working over here, and has come up with a fantastic way of choosing their next holiday destination.

 

While it may not work for everyone, she and her friend hit on the idea of travelling to the winners of the "Eurovision Song Contest". True, it probably won't always work as it could be her home country, here in the UK or be a repeat of a previous year, but it does at least solve one headache and have a fair chance of being random and different each year.

 

The pub where we rested and ate a splendid meal was called the Ragged Trousers, and yet this was only my second favourite T.Wells pub name, as the best name for me by far was the "Spread Eagle". However I saw this pub only briefly from the outside, and did not get a chance to see if it had any such wondrous birds inside! ( Ah-hum, and please no comments on any possible single-entendre references. )

 

After a hearty meal and few drinks we chose to trip over to Tonbridge to catch a movie, however the showing times were far too spread out and without wasting 2 hours nearby we chose to watch Apocalypto - which was a gory, ancient native Indian chase fest, romance, rescue story with a very dodgy ending.

 

Upon leaving there at no later than 8.15pm I was a bit horrified to find out that I had already missed the last train links to get me home, but every the amazing friend she is, Dana let me crash over at hers for the night and catch the train home in the morning. Such kindness I could not turn down and will no doubt leave me in her debt for some time until I can concoct an equally awesome return favour.

 

The morning I left in high spirits with still a party to go to, even though I had missed the chance of playing the warhammer battle.

 

And sadly this is where BR let themselves down big-time, as they were unable to get me the thirty miles home in anything like a sensible time, as I arrived home over four hours after calling the cab from Dana's to take me to the train station. From home I could actually have made it to a London airport and flown to about a good many of mainland European cities in that time.

 

When I finally did get home my lodger pointed out that I had lost four fence panels and a couple of posts to the strong winds of the previous few nights, a pain, but then again it could have been a lot worse.

 

So with the extended stop over in Tunbridge Wells, albeit with a very fun and enjoyable sleepover, and the tediously slow journey home I managed to miss most of the weekend and also felt tired during Sunday daytime, which meant I had a nap and then couldn't sleep Sunday night.

 

 

Guardian Angels

On many occasions I have heard tales of the fact that I must have a guardian angel looking over me, ( either that or I'm destined for a truly terrible end at a much later date, hmmm ) and what happened to me last night is yet one more example to prove this.

 

It's a very simple example, but never-the-less sent a powerful message to me.

 

After babysitting for my sister I came home late last night, after an hiatus of almost three full days, to find my house silent and in total darkness, with me lodger being absent all this week house-sitting his parents place.

 

I opened the door, noticing that there was a newspaper wedged in my letter-slot, and instinctively reached out with my hand to switch on the light.

 

Here is where my entire life balanced on a knife edge, as even as my fingers groped in the darkness I got the feeling that something was not quite right.

 

"Click" went the switch as I suddenly realised what was wrong ... I could not help but smell an almost overpowering reek of gas.

 

How this didn't trigger an explosion I will never know, but I managed to make my way to the kitchen without any further switched being flicked and turned off the gas stove, which I had carelessly left on since lunchtime three days ago.

 

Perhaps it was the bathrooms tiny extractor fan that had released enough gas to prevent a fatal buildup. Or perhaps it was the broken roof hatch cover or my missing letterbox cover, or even a combination of all three.

 

Whatever the truth is, I am happy to be counting my blessing one more time, and when I woke this morning ( having already heavily air-venting the entire downstairs last night ) I could not but do so without a great smile on my face and a spring in my step, even as I headed off to work.

 

You never know what life is going to throw at you, all you can do is live life to the fullest and be truly thankfully if you make it to the end of a day in one piece.

 

To all of you reading this, I wish you a year filled with happiness, fun, adventure and most of all careful safety.

Babysitting

Here is a true story that will leave you in no doubt how Springate's feel towards the importance of romance, family ties and to each other.

 

On Wednesday just gone, it was my eldest sisters wedding anniversary, and this year she wanted to do something a little more special than just a card and flowers.

 

Knowing that they share a passion for historical sites and castles, she decided to treat them both to a luxury trip on the Orient Express up to ye olde citie of York, where in years gone past it held a much more important role than it does now.

 

However knowing that it would just not be the same with their three young daughters tagging along, she requested that I do a spot of babysitting for the day. Once she explained the reason and that they had not shared a single full day alone together in almost six years ( since their eldest was born ) I knew that it was duty I could not easily shirk.

 

And though it meant having to take at least two days of work myself, the fact that they were willing to entrust their three darlings to me for the duration of their trip, meant that it was with a mix of trepidation and pride that I accepted.

 

Note - I just want to interject with that I have never babysat more than one of my nieces or nephews at any one time, never during the day when they are active and need to not only be looked after but also entertained / occupied and also never for more than a few hours in one stretch.

 

So when you throw in that I had to wake them, clean, clothe and feed them, take them all to and fro school having to drop the eldest one off ( in the pouring rain and with no car no less!!! ), more feeding and nappy changing, more entertaining, home educating the middle one, and lets not forget the fact that I was all alone with at least one hundred miles separating me and any other member of my family for additional support, it was a feat that should not easily be dismissed or poo-pooed even by the most experienced of hardened of souls.

 

However, forewarned with a few tips to tackle most situations and a standing rule of "whatever the eldest asks for say no at first, then consider what they are asking for after" I managed to get through the entire day from start-to-finish without a single raised word or having to give even a threat of a slap let alone enacting a physical punishment.

 

Neither did I need to bribe them with sweets to get their cooperation. In fact, I think it was partly due to my not giving them any sweets, or fizzy drink, that enabled me to have three relatively calm children to cope with, instead of a manicly hyper active rabble tearing the walls down screaming for their parents to come home.

 

At bedtime they all went to sleep fairly on time, save the eldest trying various deceits to stay up, and the youngest managing to slide out the end of her cot slightly, and thus when my sister and her husband arrived at after 10.30 the house was quiet, tidy and pretty much as they found it, if not tidier.

 

The best news of all was that my efforts were not in vain, and the happy couple had thoroughly enjoyed the entire day, and allowing them this luxury with the added bonus of coming home to a calm home was the best present I could ever have given them. ( yup, that's right ... I didn't ask a penny for this special one off call-of-duty tour ).

Out of sorts rambling on ... & on ... & on!!!

These first few weeks of 2007 have been a real mind-bender and have left me completely out of sorts.

 

My thoughts have been pulled from pillar to post and as such l feel that I'm sort of stuck in a state of limbo until something truly kick-starts the year for me.

 

For example, I wonder how many people use the phrase "kick-start" without ever realising that it is a biking term used to start turning over the engine on a motor cycle.

 

I'll bet that some think that it is a footballing term, but honestly .. how many times do you see a striker just boot the ball to the opposing keeper right from the centre spot to start off the game???

 

My first attempt to get a remortgage had to be scrapped, due to the low level at which they would lend me. As such I am over a month down the road, and in more in debt than ever, but thankfully with a promising deal from my existing lender to hopefully salvage something from the financial ruins that is my current credit history.

 

I furthermore wonder how many people use the world salvage without realising that it is a old naval term and not quite the same as rescue or recover, which many seem to get it confused with.

 

I decided to do a spot of people watching the other week, and also as a "man of the world" decided that I would no longer fearfully shun London's seedy Soho area. After all, how can I claim to be a widely travelled man if I close my eyes to something that is less than 10 minutes walk away from my very work office.

 

It was an eye opener, not in terms of semi-clothed women, but of how established and deep routed it is. Noone in government can claim that they are seriously trying to clamp down on the illegal sex trade when there are entire streets of neon sign posted shops of every conceivable sexual flavour almost on number 10's doorstep.

 

Rubbing shoulders. in what was clearly a red light district. with ordinary families, tourists and business suited gentry as well as the expected pimps, market sellers and back alley ladies was slightly unsettling, but what was more so was the uniformed policemen at every other road junction.

 

Compounded with the vast number of CCTV cameras there are in london, it's more than likely that the goverment has, and has had for a large number of years, a fairly accurate list of almost every face that has ever passed through that region and could easily have complied and raided more than 10,000 addresses if they so desired.

 

The truth is clearly that they would rather have one of the major hubs of the UK's sex industry right under their nose where they can easily keep an eye on it, than on cracking down and preventing this sort of thing going on at all.

 

Think of that the next time you read in the papers that a brothel or escort ring madam has been 'uncovered' ... they willingly allow a hundred times that number to continue to run their businesses without fear of being raided or prosecution!

 

But this was only one of many unexpected events to happen to me recently.

 

My heating really has been blowing hot and cold, which has meant I have been unable to enjoy some quality bath time and instead ended up hitting the showers instead. This was a big shock the first time round, as I got all ready and stepped into an almost freezing bath, regardless of the piping hot flowing torrent or steam coming from the tap at that very same moment.

 

After knowing him for a few years now, for the very first time my friend Aiden called me up and invited me down the pub for a few games of pool last Sunday. Back in the days of my pool teaming youth it was my very first regular haunt, but that was in its previous reincarnation, as it has since been fully remodelled inside ( gone are the Victorian style open-bay windows and in are a succession of black leather chairs and open planning ) and also under new management.

 

The table was level and good to play on, despite having to wait for a gay-french-poet lookielike and his scottish friend to play the worst of five ( this is similar to 'the best of five', just without the skill or positional planning required to pot more a single object ball consecutively ).

 

So after what felt like an eternity of watching them play a varient of pool based on 'how long can we keep the balls out of the pockets' and despite, or because, of having a side wager of a few bob I managed to play a few games and even pull off a great clearance including ( doubling the black the length of the table to finish ).

 

Finding songs like Jean Genie, Fat Bottomed Girls and Jump on the cd-jukebox made me public enemy number one, and yet if only I didn't drink 'girlie' drinks I might have had the chance of embarrasing myself by propositioning the attractive slim blond Russian barmaid.

 

Thankfully I was saved from any such alcohol influenced blunder as I don't drink 'manly' drinks and thus I didn't even register on her "worth-flirting-for-tips-ometer" :o(

 

What didn't help my cause was a slurred debate with Aiden over why a few cheesy songs like YMCA, Macarena and Barbi-Girl are emotionlly/intellectually devoid of substance but will stand the test of time, while most other more-worthy efforts are relegated to oblivion far before their time.

 

And so in order to recapture my feeling of lost manliness I went home, grabbing a burger and chips on the way, and stayed up watching late night tv and thinking of D.I.Y. and power tools, Hoo-raw :o)

 

In the last few days I have also met for the first time my friend Susan's fiance, who I was happy to say that I was able to find a few things in common with, despite the fact that he is very religious and at least one part of me was thinking "If Susan hasn't even had chance to introduce him to all of her close friends yet then am I wrong in believing that it is still far too early for them to be booking a church?".

 

However my views are my own and although I did touch on the subject of timing a few times, it was never taken up with any real enthusiasm by either of them, so I wisely left it alone and changed subjects each time.

 

To save this post from becoming unreadably long I will leave the others for another time, save a brief mention of how I embarrased myself in my local supermarket.

 

I was aware that I was already over my credit limit on my debit card, but the house is dangerously short of groceries or cleaning agents and so I checked my balance on the only credit card I know the pin of off by heart and then proceeded to my nearest store and filled up a basked.

 

For days I have been saying that I need to do some paperwork, and it would have helped a ot had I done so before, as then I would have realised that the card I was carryings end date had expired and thus I wasted 20 minutes shopping to only be left no alternative but to leave the shop empty handed and very red faced.

 

So many other things have been whizzing through my mind recently that it was take a month of Sundays do type them here with any justice, so I will have to leave them for another time.

A New Year Dawns

As I sit here and look back on the year that's been, I am flooded with a bizarre cocktail of emotions.

The things I have seen and done, the people I have met and befriended, and also for my loses both with old friends and of another failed relationship, if indeed it even reached a level that would justify such a title.

The year started with me visiting Rob and Natalie, together with my friend Susan, after being stranded in London and unable to reach Budapest.

The year ended with me failing to meet up with Maribel and so visiting another old friend, Robert and his wife, while they were working together in a pub seeing the new year in behind a DJ station and pub bar.

Fitting in a way, as I have always thought that I have yet to find a place that suits me down to the ground, but my foolish dreams of a hollywood ending remain deep in my heart.

It was both sad but about time that I learned that most peoples definition of desperation was not only in how what you fight for, but equally as much in how hard you fight and even why you chose to fight at all.

I have been told that I am desperate to find a partner, because I chose to look beyond my own group of friends and my local pubs / clubs. In truth I admit that I have gone to extremes in my search, but now it is time to put aside my misguided beliefs in ever finding a "perfect woman" and better plan the rest of my life and allow my heart to be swayed when it chooses and not when I think it should be swayed.

Yet this has not been a bad year for me, but one of discovery and enlightenment.

I have gained a much better understanding of the universe and my part to play, that being happy is not about searching for happiness, but more in finding it all around you.

I was blessed many times over this festive season, as message after message came in from all the parts of the world, and in all its various forms, wishing me happiness, health and prosperity.

My poetry reached a level of recognition that has encouraged me to write more and with the strength and support of those around me I am now in a position to consider changing jobs or even careers so that I am better positioned to take the next step.

Tomorrow prospects look very promising and after that well the sky's the limit.