Folks and me ...

... and the sound of sea.

A moving image, I thought, within the stained glass window above the entrance to the RNLI Cromer Lifeboat house which is located on the end of Cromer Pier, North Norfolk.

Last weekend on a trip to see Mum & Dad, I learned about Henry Blogg, local and national Hero, who volunteered as a lifeboat man for over 50yrs, into his 70s. A life lived, I am sure you'll agree; not only his - but the 837 he had a hand in saving from the seas. A double edged sword really, reading his story .. on the one hand uplifting, a really inspiring example to follow, if only in part, to 'make that difference'; that notion that seems to afflict all of us, who have enough food in our bellies and a roof over our head.

I have both, for now; and neither my family nor I are, as far as I am aware, at any imminent risk of being hacked to pieces. So it is with some perplexion that I battle waves of mild nausea (mostly caused by self-disgust, I imagine) whenever trying to understand why I feel so tired of living (wait, 'life' sounds less dramatic, perhaps that's what I mean). I have been blessed with the kind of fortune that most of the planet's inhabitants - and not only the bipedal - can only dream about. What the hell is my problem? I do berate myself for such self-indulgence, yet seem unable to effect the change in perspective I seek. Apologies father. But I'll keep going at it. chisel chisel away at the self-loathing. I don't know where this shit comes from - will look back and laugh one day, probably with not a little embarrasment I suppose. So be it. Now off to find shovel, to build that bridge to get over.

ps - morose post may be in part due to listening to this excellent, but melancholic track, I just found on the brilliant Hype Machine website, then bought via iTunes for 79p: The Clockwise Witness, by DeVotchka. The Hype Machine allows you to browse new music and listen to whole tracks. If you leave website homepage running in background, its actually like a radio station, as it automatically runs through the track list on the page. A new way to explore music for all the desk monkeys with headphones ...

Well, it's not all doom and gloom, I s'pose


So, my 36th birthday present finally arrived - can you tell what it is yet?? Yes, yes, it's my 7th (or 8th) Norwich City Shirt ... but with a little (lemon & lime) twist .. look closely, real close ... CLOSSSSSSSSER ... about 2 names in from the green splodge bottom left, 5 rows up .. is l'il old me .. on a bona fide genuine Norwich shirt ... a collectors item, llimited only to the number they could sell! Nevertheless, with a maximum print run of 5,000 (yes I know christos, that's more than millwall sell in two seasons!), it's one more green and yella moment to have and to hold and cherish (and there've not been many of those this season). Happy Birthday me! And thanks so much to all of thee. N x

Beware .. the ides of March

well i have failed in one respect; to say what I am really thinking/ feeling on this page. Sure I have come close and probably been a little more intimate than I, and most probably others have felt I should be. But crikey, 23 posts since August '07. Boy, if I'd published here what's really been on my mind the last 7 months, there would be more like 2,300 posts; mostly one-liners and often vitriolic I imagine. No one wants to look ugly, and I've been feeling (and thinking some) pretty ugly (thoughts). Despite stating more than once, the 'revolutionary' idea of brain-dumping my inner thoughts to both clear my head and communicate with my nearest and dearest, I guess I am too intimidated, ashamed, embarrassed to share some of the debris that has been swirling around in there. No one wants to hear that; or perhaps more to the point - no one wants to have to acknowledge hearing 'that' and be put into the uncomfortable position of having to respond/ offer words of support.

I know who reads this (although I am not sure why you do) and for the sake of preserving and not stretching relationships - I voted with my finger tips and decided to 'keep schtumm'. Although .. it has crossed my mind to set up a parallel, anonymous blog where i can unleash a torrent of hell (its cathartic, that's the hope and will ultimtely lead to some good). If I do/ did/ have - I'd really have no idea what it would be saying, because each time I imagine getting started on this venture, I visualise myself sitting in front of the keyboard .. halfway through my second bottle of vodka .. rubbing the mist from tear strewn eyes so i can see the monitor (although seeing the monitor now would not be an issue since I am using a 32" TV screen for this purpose!) and then typing what I am probably shouting ... a drink and rage fuelled monologue against the injustice served out on me. Then the following morning, it would be a revelation to wake up, log-on and find out what on earth I spewed forth in that ugliest of ugly moments the night before. Kind of like seeing a hypnotherapist with a hidden recorder, and pressing playback afterwards. I wonder what I would learn, if anything. At the least I suppose, it might vent some frustration? That would be healthy, although completely off-set by 2L of vodka. Why am I so angry anyway ... there are two sides to every conflict, right? Well maybe and I do entertain the possibility that I am a complete bastard, living in total denial about how my actions drove her away ... but, truthfully? I don't think this is/ was the case and still can't help feeling a little hard done by.

As C put it last year, I really should just build a bridge and get over it. People break up all the time; and after all - surely the opportunity of another shot at happiness, is better than a life perpetuating itself in misery and confusion. I remain confused about it all; and so now - it appears - is J. But does any of it matter now. I don't think so. Some of our friends split, and got back together many months later. Lucky them, I hope (for them). I though, need understanding more than I need a reprieve. I hope one day you are able to look far enough and honestly enough into yourself to provide some J .. for yourself .. and then for me.

So what happens now? Write about the future. There is, of course a future. And it cannot be any worse than that past. I just hope that somewhere .. and soon, along that journey I (re)discover those 'qualities' that made me feel like me - the me that other people describe me to be; vibrant nick, bed-rock nick, positive nick, life-and-soul nick. I accept that 8 weeks of ill health and illness in the last 12 have made me a little stir-crazy - but I just can't remember that person at all, or how he came to be. It's a bloody miracle that M gives me the time of day really but I suppose there is hope going forward if someone can be attracted to this empty shell of a former self.

Or perhaps I am just in cold turkey?... prolonged poor health has led to virtually zero alcohol intake in the last three months and no energy for socialising. But FUCK IT .. don't let me get myself started on my health issues. An issue for the 25th post .. unless Happiness gets in the way. God forbid .. or should it read God forbode.