Success vs failure

Success or failure is relative. It all depends on your vantage point, and what your measure of success is. For most of my childhood, I lived in a large five-bedroom house in one of the most affluent suburbs of our city. Our house had two large living rooms, a kitchen large enough to comfortably seat all six of us for dinner, a conservatory and gardens front, side and rear.

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I don’t know why I suddenly feel so blue. I don’t know why this melancholy descends. I don’t know why I can’t seem to shake it. It hits me unexpectedly, knocking me back without warning. I have no reason to feel blue, but I do. Where did this come from this time?

Humble folk

I will take my transnational community over narrow nationalism any time. I will take this brotherhood of man over petty hatreds based on the quantity of melanin in a person’s epidermis. I choose to break bread with the humble of all the world.


Now property developers want to do to our little market town what they have done to Ealing. Just as my old neighbourhood there has lost all of its charm and character, now the town masterplan hopes to plant high-rise apartment blocks right in the centre of our quaint town. I don’t suppose there is much we little folk can do to oppose it. Money talks. We will just have to get used to this brave new world. Such is the cost of progress.

Don’t worry

Whatever you’re going through, there’s a reason for it. In the moment it can be difficult to deal with the hurt and anguish. Rest assured, in the fullness of time, you will come to understand and appreciate all that has happened. Patience.


Where could ambition have carried me? What could I have achieved, had I had vision, or encouragement, or guidance? I have recently encountered quite a few people I once knew in the distant past with humble beginnings who have achieved so much in their lives. In all honesty, I’m in awe of each of them.

All gone

So Manor Road parade in West Ealing is no more. I suppose it was inevitable, ever since they replaced the old cozy Waitrose with that silver box and block of flats. The area lost all character then. It is painful returning to our old neighbourhood today. But that is the cost of progress. Nothing stays the same. So we are gone too.

Claiming credit

Should I be annoyed when others take credit for my work? Should I be irritated that others gain promotions on the basis of my efforts? Should I be upset that others undermine my work and then bring it back as if it is something new?

Perhaps I should, but I’m not really. I’m bored of these machinations. I don’t have their ambitions. Let whoever wills take credit for whatever they please.

One day we will be dead and buried, and completely forgotten. In another generation, nobody will remember our headstone, let alone anything we did. We will just be dust then, awaiting our accounting.

Time travelling

For a moment, it all seemed to make sense. Now I wonder, returning from a bizarre time-travelling adventure: what on earth was I thinking? Have I truly lost my mind?

The answer to that is yes, of course, because my social anxiety has shot through the roof. Last year messed with my psychology so completely. Half the time I feel like I have lost my marbles, forgetting that there is a world out there.

Somehow, I have lost two decades. I am altogether confused.