In days long gone, I was so desperate for friends — any friend — that I wasn’t very discerning. I’d ascribe the title Best Friend to people completely unsuited to the role. One a serial philanderer, given to spouting nonsense on my behalf. Another an actual alcoholic, incapable of dispensing sound advice. Eventually, I’d see …
When I left college at eighteen, there was a party at a nightclub in town. I don’t know what I was expecting when my mate said we should attend. Not a night of clubbing, that’s for sure. A last opportunity to say bye to old friends, perhaps: to catch up, exchange notes, wish each other …
My downfall in the self-esteem stakes was joining LinkedIn in the midst of the pandemic. I was doing okay until then, quite content in my state of being. Joining caused me a massive wobble. I hibernated several times, and closed my account twice, before finally hitting the kill switch for good. Although, admittedly, that was …
The advice I give our children is different to the advice I received at their age. My parents’ advice was based on their experiences. Mine is based on my own. I was told to get a “proper” degree from a “proper” university. I advise our children to work towards a vocational, professional degree which will …
Yes, it is all implausible. My life, I mean. I wish I could say I was making it all up. But no, that would be a lie. All of it is true, as it has to be, for we are bound by the truth: those of us who claim to be believers. O you who …
Caught in the act. We have a family of these creatures making themselves at home at the bottom of the garden.
This morning, on the way to school, I got into an argument with our daughter about the choices we make. Well, a semi-argument. I was putting my points across calmly and rationally; only she was raging against my nonsense. My contention: that ethical choices apply as much in hard times as in good. It began …
All of a sudden, they’re back with a vengeance: those heavy blues. Is it the change in the weather? The short dark days? The sleepless nights? My distracted unproductivity? My wayward heart? A hyperactive imagination? Waning hormones? Who knows? Probably just need some laughing therapy. Or better, still, a tongue which remembers to be grateful. …
One thing I will always regret: that instead of talking about my feelings, I took up writing. How I wish I had been able to articulate my feelings back then, or had had anyone to talk to, who might have listened, and offered wise counsel. Perhaps I might have made sense of everything then. Perhaps …
Can I turn back time? Apologise for my apologies? Return to oblivion? Wish I’d never wondered? Never listened to the whisperer that whispered into my heart? Unsee what has been seen? Undiscover what has been discovered? If I could, I think I would. But then, if I could, I’d travel a quarter of a century …
Never again — I hope — will I allow myself to wonder what happened to those I passed along the way. It began with me hypothesising that there was no way in the world our paths could ever again cross. It ended with the shocking realisation that just as those clamouring thoughts had been coming …
