Tree, sky and field

Not quite breaking the fellowship

This early on a Sunday morning?

Usually I'd perish the thought, but the relatives from Sweden just departed to take an early morning flight, and I figured I may as well make final push on this last round of packing while I'm still relatively bright-eyed & bushy-tailed.

Had an excellent night round at some of my friends' in Beverley, BBQ'd, drank and reminisced until late on. Quite humbled as well when toasts were held aloft in my honour.

Though it feels like I'm breaking the fellowship in a sense, but it's only 1 & 1/2hrs south at the end of the day. Near enough to zip up at short notice, but far enough away to get that clean break I was yearning for.

Why am I moving where I am? Well, I wanted to remain relatively in the north, and in a semi-rural setting. I tried working and leaving in & near the big smoke for a while, but I'll always remain a country bumpkin at heart.

You can take your cultural epicentres, your buzzing social scene and your relentless pace of life.

Give me greenery.

Give me golden summer fields

And give me crisp winter mornings blanketing the hills.

Exit stage left

I always preferred The Littlest Hobo to Lassie. I dunno', Lassie just seemed a little too prim & proper. 'Hobo at least looked like he'd been on the road.

Huh?

Random? Yes, of course, but this bubbled up out of a lunchtime chat today.

Anyway.

So then, I am no longer employed by the bookshop.

Felt a little strange, a little anti-climactic.

It always is.

But I stayed true to myself and my colleagues and worked hard until the end. Could've stopped giving a damn a long while back, but that ain't me.

Definitely the right time to move on.

The grass is greener on the other side, I'm sure of that.

It just happens to taste a little different.

* * * * *

Maybe Tomorrow by Terry Bush & John Crossen.
Performed by Terry Bush as the theme to 'The Littlest Hobo'

There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road is where I'll always be.

Every stop I make, I'll make a new friend
Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

Down this road, that never seems to end,
Where new adventure, lies just around the bend.

So if you want to join me for a while,
Just grab your hat, come travel light - that's hobo style.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want settle down,
Until tomorrow, the whole world is my home.

So if you want to join me for a while,
Just grab your hat, come travel light
That's hobo style.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

[Instrumental Bridge]

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

There's a world, that's waiting to unfold,
A brand new tale, no one has ever told,

We've journey'd far but, you know it won't be long,
We're almost there and we've paid our fare, with the hobo song.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

So if you want to join me for a while
Just grab your hat, come travel light - that's hobo style.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll find what I call home
Until tomorrow, you know I'm free to roam.

Swinglish

Almost there.

Penultimate shift at work tomorrow. Already cleaned my locker out, blagged enough proofs and slightly damaged books to last me well into next year. Had a few goodbyes already from a few staff leaving before Friday. I'm really going to miss a few of the perks that we have (not that they make up for the criminally low pay we get, but still), such as blagging an advance reading copy of the your favourite author's new title several months before it goes on official release.

Relatives flew in from Sweden this evening. T'is really confusing for any visitor to our living room at the moment. My Swedish is a bit rusty still, so I can understand way more than I can speak still. Aunt & uncle speak to me in Swedish, I reply in English, Swedish, or 'Swinglish' depending on how complicated the subject is. Mum flicks between English & Swedish, translating for dad, as do aunt & uncle. Then Dad chimes in in English with occasional smatterings of pigeon-Swedish he's picked up along the way.

It's all very confusing.

I spook the hell out of Swedish backpackers when travelling. The last language they expect a Brit to speak is Swedish, so many a hostel I've been in I've heard them bitching away about someone or something. Suddenly piping-up and throwing some Swedish language at them, whilst they were comfortable in the knowledge that you didn't know a damn thing they were saying, is rather satisfying to say the least - just to see the look on their faces.

Beverley Hillbilly

Already packing my ass off but still I'm surprised by the amount of stuff I seem to have accumulated thus far. I used to be quite the hoarder, but now even with new ruthless tendencies I'm moving a surprising amount of stuff with me. Thank god my dad's got a campervan that I can pack full, as well as the Focus Estate which can also pull a trailer.

Thanks for everyone's best wishes & things regarding my change of career by the way. I'll let those of you know my new address when everything's lined up.

T-minus four days of Waterstone's left. Frantically trying to abuse my HMV-group discount whilst I still have it. Boy am I going to miss the 33% off books and 20% off cd's! My staff leaving-do is already out of the way; passed off quite well. A surprising amount of gratitude and goodwill, considering that many in the group had begun to distance themselves from me a while back, so it felt. Or maybe I was just being paranoid before? Outside of work my long-term friends are organising a barbeque/sending off 'do' at the weekend too which is nice of them. It's a wonderful gesture, but most who know me know that I prefer to attend parties and things rather than be the subject of them. I prefer to be the background, not the focus. But hey, any excuse for drinks huh?

Amongst all of this, more packing, and research for an pre-training assignment the Police has sprung on us, relatives are visiting from Sweden as it's my mother's 60th this Thursday.

I'm just about keeping up with taping up boxes, changing addresses, researching service providers, typing assingments and signing forms. Though family & friends are a welcome respite; feels like there's too much going on, man!

Sinking in

Drove to Force HQ earlier today to get kitted out at the stores. The appointment took the best part of a full hour. Issued with multiples of shirts, trousers, jackets etc. But then a whole load of other stuff including holsters, utility belts and even handcuffs! Wow, no wonder they said bring a suitcase.

I think the real moment when it hit me was why I tried on some body armour for the first time (you don't actually get it straight away, you get your own personalised set manufactured for you). You know how you think all Police Officers are really broad-chested and well-built? Not necessarily the case. I'm 6'3" but when I have the full uniform and body armour on it bulks me up immensely.

In a sentence - excited but apprehensive.

And here's your exclusive first look!

(Click to enlarge)

Fly on the wall

Really interesting story that's doing the rounds on the wires right now.

Fascinating how two of the most powerful men in the world are discussing international crises in such a worrying relaxed manner!

Packing stuff

Weirdest thing; I keep loosing a week.

One moment I've convinced myself it's next week I'm moving, the next I have a Homer moment and complete with head-slap realise that nope it's the-week-after-next.

Having not moved significantly in a few years now (compared to at least a few people I know), it's strange to be packing up the four corners of my nest. Packing for travelling I can do blindfolded - that I will quite happily boast. Give me a destination, or better-still even an aimless journey and I can chuck stuff together in no-time and be off. Ask me to gather together the hoardings of many-a-year back at base however and that's easier said than done. Behind me lie various mounds of detrius, each with a mental labels. Stuff to keep, stuff to throw, stuff to recycle and where the hell did this stuff come from? Every so often I pause to flick through an old book, regard an old photo or wonder why on earth have I kept a six-year old lottery ticket. It's amazing the memories that keep pop in and out of your mind as I come across long-forgotten stuff; like one of those life-before-your eyes montages you get in the movies when a character is close to death.

One wall looks positively naked now that the bookcase is downstairs in the garage along with a surprising six (large) whole boxes of books that have been packed away down there. Next I've turned my attention to the chest of draws (site of the most intriguing finds of the day and source of said piles; that lottery ticket, old calendars, a small flagpole and incredible lengths of string).

Though I'm getting increasingly ruthless in my old age about what to take and what to leave behind, there's a strong instinct at work that speaks:

Take something with you of your youth, what speaks of home and what speaks of you.

An eye for an eye, for an eye...

I've never been the strongest critic of Israel. Like Northern Ireland everyone's got blood on their hands. Anyone who says otherwise really needs to open their eyes.

However the latest escalation in violence is extremely worrying. Over sixty people have lost their lives already for three held hostage?

Where does this lead?

I feel so desperately sorry for the ordinary Palestinians, Lebanese and Israelis just trying to go about their lives, hungry for a lasting peace whilst the deadly spiral of violence intensifies.

Flux

Briefly.

Things are picking up speed, the pieces are falling into place... Choose a metaphor.

But I got me a new place today.

I move August 1st, or thereabouts.

I start training August 7th.

From thereon in it's a blank slate.

Who knows where this is going? Finally I have the career that's eluded me, the income, the stability. I now have the chance to start afresh once more, in a new place, a new situation. As things evolve, as I evolve subtly in nature, I hope to retain the marginally endearing personality and humour many credit me for, for one.

I ponder if any of this will ever attract another into my orbit, but debating past form - this team is fucking hopeless.

I guess I never did play to win, maybe it was just the taking part after all.

But anyway. Shaking up the kaleidoscope is a good thing.

It's not right, but it's ok?

The BBC evening news today got a lip-reader to review the footage of the Zidane/Materazzi incident. Apparently, following some jostling between the two, when Zidane was walking away Materazzi insulted his mother.

Shocking enough, but apparently his mother was recently diagnosed with a terminal disease.

In a seething cauldron of emotion and adrenaline, you almost can't blame him, if that really was what was said.

Hmmm, second time then a Mediterranean team has wound up a Northern European player to get them sent off in the tournamanet.

Anyone spotting a theme here?

There's only a billion people watching

Zidane you idiot!

On the verge of ending a legendary career and with France in the ascendancy... Well you know what happened next.

Such a shame, the French generally outplayed the drama-queens for most of the second half, and if their two best players hadn't have been taken off the field (through substitution and sending-off respectively), could well have gone on to clinch it.

But never mind, it's been fun watching as a neutral.

However Italy can't bask in the glory for too long; with their top league clubs found guilty of match fixing and facing severe punishment, as well as Berlusconi being indicted to face trial fraud charges...

It's a hollow victory.

Imagine...

Drifting in silence above the earth.

Now that's what I call a day at the office.

Beneath; all the scurrying, the cacophony; the swirling mass of love and hate.

Sad to think how much time humanity spends tearing itself apart over boundaries, creed and ideology.

When we really are just one blue orb set against the darkness, if you look at it.

Quite literally.

We are go for launch!

So you feel inexplicably down...

...And then it's amazing how quickly you snap out of it.

A hefty pack arrived in the post this morning containing information, various forms to review and sign and times and dates for my initial training. I've even been informed of my three-digit call number and been asked to make an appointment as soon as possible to be kitted out with my uniform.

In just over a month I'll commence training as a Police Officer.

Who would've thought eh?

Over the last week several different people, unprompted I may add, have said to me a variation on

"Well it's wonderful and reassuring to think that there's going to be Officers like you out there."

On the one hand it's heartening to think of people's confidence in my abilities and character, on the other hand does this betray a certain cynicism and distrust in the force?

Just a thought.

Anyway, I'll keep you all posted in the run-up and I'll post a photo when/if I can.

I know some of you are gagging to see that.

On a unrelated point, being the space-buff that I am...

Go Discovery!

Can't put my finger on it

Something doesn't feel right.

With the changes August brings, I should be excited and generally relieved to be moving forward again.

However, more than anything, I'm feeling generally under whelmed.

Cynical, even.

I can't really put my finger on it. But I'm deeply restless, bored and unsettled right now.

What happened to me?

I'm convinced it's still not the football.

Oh, remind me not to back anyone else. Everytime I watch the game as a neutral and decide to back a team they loose. Unfortunately I gave the Germans the kiss of death this evening.

Sorry guys.

If...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)