Updates on my diary, which I have continued rather than starting this month. Sometimes you can’t write because you haven’t done the things you like to write about. Sometimes you can’t write because you don’t feel you can articulate things correctly. I write anyway most of the time.

A post reflecting on the highs and lows of 2023, including travel, books, work, movies etc.

Ingrid and I joined our usual quiz team tonight for the residents’ association pub quiz. As usual we came third. It’s a fairly settled group of attendees and we know our level. We’re also quite used to the quiz master and his questions, though I do wish he’d acknowledge that pop music continued to be a thing long after the sixties! There’s always a pot luck round. On one round we get to play a joker which doubles your points.

I find it hard to get started on projects. This may have always been the case. I definitely remember instances of complex plans for school projects that I’d barely have time to finish. I once got up at 6AM to finish making a calendar in French—I thought it was going to be this outstanding piece of work that would genuinely replace my teacher’s calendar! Reality didn’t quite match the idea though.

Today, we transferred our Christmas tree to a new pot. Being root-bound as the tree was, it took ages to get it out of the crappy pot from the store and into the new, bigger pot. And I’m pretty sure it’s a bit wonky, which might make the baubles a bit lopsided next Christmas. It looks excellent next to the new bird bath. Nonetheless, it was nice to get another plant into a pot with the hope of keeping it around.

I had my first Covid-19 vaccination on Friday. Leading up to it, I was borderline having a panic attack. From about lunchtime I was just all over the shop (the jab was at 7pm). I’m glad that the vaccination centres run with such exactitude, but also with a sense of cheeriness. By the time I’d had the jab, I was feeling much better just from the sheer relief of it.

Writing this post came about from frustration with blogging. Specifically the tools I am using. Often it feels like a new language or paradigm comes along that shifts one or two of the pain points of blogging. The biggest are: How long it takes to get a post on the internet once you’ve written it The reliability of the resulting website How good the resulting website looks Note that none of this really impacts the quality of the writing.

Recently I’ve had cause to dig out some old photos. If I’m honest it’s made me sad. Sadder than I was expecting. There’s a quote from Nan Goldin that once felt like a warning but now just sounds like a sad statement of ongoing affairs: “I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I’ve lost.”

“He keeps biting me on the leg” says Ingrid one day as I mill around her desk during the new water cooler moment that is a comfort break on a Microsoft Teams call. I pat Martok, one of our cats, and he rubs up against me, pretending that he might nibble at me too. I experience this regularly. It used to be at half five, then at five, and these days at half past four.

Not being much of a drinker, I’ve never felt the need to do dry January. Also Ingrid and I sat in a restaurant in Barcelona on January 2nd drinking for the third night in row. We hadn’t got off to that great a start. Well today marks the completion of a dry month: dry January with a two day lag. I also (mostly) managed to keep to my other goal of eliminating sugar from my tea and coffee.

In recent weeks I have worn a suit to work. I bought a new furry woolly suit a few weeks ago and have alternated between it and my old one. I also bought new shoes that gave me blisters and made me cry. Enough time has passed that by now it feels natural rather than silly and those shoes don’t eat my feet as much as they used to. I think I feel calmer before I go to work as a result of wearing the suit.

Three years ago today I moved in to my little flat in Chichester, soon to start a new job. I had no money left but at least, after a character building stint of six months sleeping on the floor, I had a bed. In the intervening three years, my job role has expanded, I’ve done another degree, the flat has become a home, and I’ve met and married Ingrid. Add to that the fact that it’s almost four years since I left for South America and I start to realise that I’ve done a crazy amount of things in that time.

Ingrid and I got married a month ago. It was a lovely day. We had a simple ceremony with two witnesses, our friends Sue and Andrew. We kept it quiet and small, as we just wanted to be married without too much fuss. A month on, we’re happy to report that we are glad we did it. We’d like to thank everyone who nonetheless sent cards and gifts, and to all of those who wished us well on Facebook.

Moving the blog to Jekyll (again, sort of) Et voila, my blog lives! In a new body (Jekyll) and at a new location. The Process I set up Jekyll on my MacBook Air after loads of initial problems with installing the theme and getting assorted Ruby gems installed and working. Stack Overflow is a friend for life now. By way of comparison, getting things up and running on my new Mac was simple.

A little man wearing a bow tie, and possibly a fez, scurries into the middle of the frame clutching a clapboard. Breathing heavily he hoists the clapboard up to chest height. He holds the clapper up then brings down while slurring "This is a blog post about not having a clue, take 43". He exits to the right of the frame. My feet are hot. The bed seems too small. Why are my feet always too hot on nights like these?

Just a brief message to wish everyone a happy new year. Getting my flat connected to the internet continues to be a trial so it’s still not as easy to post as I would like. However, I have some workarounds now and I hope to write (and post) more often from now on. Like everyone I make resolutions at this time of year, though as the years pass I realise that the best resolutions are to apopt a new way of being rather than a new way of doing.

Overlong reflection upon the past is one sure way to make yourself unhappy so I try to avoid it. Nevertheless it becomes unavoidable at this time of year, especially if, like me, you are somewhat prone to reflection. At this time last year I was, as detailed in the most recent report of my South American adventure, in La Paz, Bolivia. I think I felt as lost then as I do now, though back then I had the novelty of new places and good friends to steer me through.

The hat in question is a Wilco baseball cap that I bought at a gig of theirs in 2004, the night that Germany got eliminated from Euro 2004. I’d love to show you a picture of it but I can’t, there isn’t even a picture of it from a Wilco merch site: at least not one that Google or Bing images can see anyway. I did manage to find a side-on picture of it in my bedroom in 2005 and zoom right in on it like they do in CSI.

Previously on… I planned this post as a follow-up to one called The Truth About Work from a couple of months ago, but a few things happened that changed my thinking. It has implications for my future and in particular, it redefines what this break from work and upcoming trip means to me. One of the punchlines to “The Truth About Work” was that, sometimes, the only way to move ahead is to quit.

Motivation and Lies Motivation is a fickle thing. You can see it in action here on this blog, or rather in inaction as there are often “droughts” between posts (and draughts between drafts…). Back in June I tried to write a post each day that had a title of the form “X and Y”. I was overambitious and they petered out after a bit. This was one of those posts and was originally titled “Motivation and Lies” in melodramatic fashion.

The other weekend, beset by insomnia, I decided to follow my own advice and get up to do something instead of wallowing unable to sleep. I pulled my emergency jigsaw out of the cupboard and set to it. I should stress that I mean a jigsaw puzzle and not an actually jigsaw: DIY at 2am is not such a good idea! I’d forgotten how interesting jigsaw puzzles actually are. As I sat there contemplating the 1000 pieces and wondered exactly what I’d let myself in for, I found myself thinking about a number of things.

My earliest memory is waking up in Queen Alexandra hospital in Cosham after an operation on my ears. I must have been about four years old and it was the middle of the night. I was in a room on my own and the door was locked. It had been daylight only seconds before so I got out of the bed and walked to the window to look incredulously out at the amber world that lay beyond.

A question of identity Three letters for Dad in the mail today, three variations on our surname including the aquatic Dory version and the lesser-spotted Dorny. It is perhaps best not to go back to the time he was accidentally listed in the Thompson directory as Mr. Dopey, bringing forth prank calls from all teenagers within a ten mile radius. Fortunately, Dr. Dorey doesn’t have this problem with his mail: he doesn’t get any.

Since the run there has been a bit of a hiatus in this blog. I wrote about how running was making me feel better. In fact, I should have said more. I recently stopped taking the antidepressants that I had been taking for eighteen months. This has been my longest period taking such medication but the running made me feel sufficiently good to decide that I could stop taking them.

So, Saturday. Finally. The big day. Would I a) be able to get to Greenwich in time for the registration? and b) be able to make it all the way around the course without collapsing and crying? Happily the answer to both questions was a resounding “Yes!” and I really enjoyed it. The weather was really good, especially compared to the two days before hand, and Marc came along to take some brilliant photos.