So, here I am again trying to give up fags. The main reason is that I am going to become a father and I don’t really want the baby inhaling my cigarettes (sponging bastard).
Haven’t written on here for a while as I couldn’t be bothered and I’ve had other projects I have been occupied with- I don’t have the time or the energy to go into now. Also, I’ve moved a long way from the 43 bus route and, although a brilliant concept, the blog may not follow the earlier template.
I started a three month NHS smoking cessation program yesterday. They have given me patches and an inhaler thing but it’s still hell.
Tokyo Cowboy has nominated me for The Awesome Blogger Award~
“This is an award for the absolutely wonderful writers all across the blogging world. They have beautiful blogs, are kind and lovely, and always find a way to add happiness and laughter to the lives of their readers. That is what truly defines an awesome blogger.” Created by Miss Maggie @ Dreaming of Guatemala.
I can only assume that this is irony on Tokyo Cowboys’s part. I haven’t got around to it yet but I’ll try to in the near future. You really should check out his posts. Most of them will take a proper tea break to read but well worth it. If you are incapable of reading that many words, lack the intellect or cannot sustain concentration for longer then a few seconds, there is a thing called Twitter…
I know that you have been on the edge of your seats waiting to hear the results of the scan (I know you haven’t and I feel that a lot of people I know, in the real world, were pretty nonplussed about the news but just regurgitate the same well-trodden congratulations and mock excitement I have falsified in the past).
Knife crime has grabbed all the headlines recently and SW asked if we were still sure about bringing up a child in London – he may join a gang… I think, as does SW, that it’s good for children to experience different cultures. I wouldn’t want a child of mine (G’N’F’N’R) to grow up in a small-minded community.
The automated voice just announced that the next stop is North Greenwich, my prompt to finish reading the page and eye my escape route from the confined underground pod. The carriage is populated by all races* and every walk of life. Two men are sat in the seats next to me, holding hands.** At the far end there is a black girl sat with her white girlfriend on her lap, they kiss. We have a Muslim mayor and a female premier, it’s not a bad time or place to live (although it seems the prime minister is trying hard to change that.)
*I maybe shouldn’t have noticed that people had different skin colours, I don’t think I do usually, but the idea of raising a child in a multicultural society was fresh in my mind.
**Disappointingly, the couple next to me were both white but I think one was German so that shows some kind of progressiveness ?
I think we do need to ‘tackle knife crime’ but I feel it has been sensationalised by the press for commercial gain. There have always been instances of knife crime in our culture. Two that immediately spring to mind are; the Mods and Rockers who used to carve up each other every weekend at seaside resorts up and down the country and the account of the Brighton gangs in Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock (although fictional, it conveyed the fear of the time (citation needed).
Got an email from a guy with a terminal illness and wants to give his money to charity. I am the first to admit that I’m cynical at times but then you hear from someone like this and realise that not everyone is motivated by greed.
Happy Christmas to you all x
I was bored of the format/template I had adopted (each bus stop on the 43 route, north to south) and I was thinking that I may give up the experiment.
But, tonight, I met up with an old friend at London Bridge (the other end of the route (I will recount tomorrow)) and I thought I could maybe start my posts afresh from the other end of the journey or, perhaps, post from different stops along the way but not in any form of sequence.
Not sure how this will play out but tomorrow I will be posting from the last stop of the journey.
Last week SW did some kind of test in work were you get assigned a colour to show what kind of manager you are. The results came back are she is apparently a yellow/green. I think that it meant that she was keen to make everyone happy, she craved the praise of others and was very supportive to those who she managed. I thought it a load of nonsense. She told me I was a red. Impatient, full steam ahead, get the job done.
She mentioned it again yesterday as we were packing boxes before our move on Friday. I was going through the kitchen appliances and throwing out the ones we didn’t need, cutting of the plugs in case they were needed in future, and quickly packing the wanted appliances in the box. I was telling her that I thought the colour thing was complete nonsense when I snipped of the plug to the fridge.
As you, the few of you that keep looking in on my little blog, will see, I have not posted anything for a little time now. My mind is too busy at the moment and, although I consider this venture both creative and worthwhile, I think I will have to concentrate on other project for a while.
An ex once said to me – ‘your problem is that you have read too much Russian literature and you aspire to be a struggling artist. You will never have any money or nice things’. I dismissed it and carried on leading my life in much the same way. I would starve for days, then come by some work and eat and drink like a lord, then starve again – much the same as the protagonists in many of the books I had read (not all Russian). But, I will argue, I have never been materialistic or emotionally connected to possessions, and never cared for responsibilities.
But times change.
I am now a 41 year old, with my first child on its way and middle class tastes. Needing to cover the deposit for the new place until we were reimbursed the deposit for the present place, little in the flat to eat and Christmas around the corner, it was time to man up and take responsibility. There was only one thing to do. I smoked three cigarettes in quick succession and picked up the phone, ‘Hello Dad, could you loan me some money?’