Trainspotting

From last night at Reading Station; it made the train being ten minutes late worthwhile.

Bumble Bee

Saw my first bumble bee of the year this morning and it put an enormous smile across my face. Coupled with the happiest bus driver ever known in the existence of man, the glorious sunshine and a decent day at work has resulted in a bloody good mood this evening.

I myself have been and am going to be a busy busy bumble bee. This week's plans (in addition to lovely but hectic week at work) include a visit to the school I work with, a leaving do in Reading on Thursday, a pub quiz in honour of the charity I work for on Friday, a night out with my old work colleagues (also on Friday), Saturday in Henley with my friends and their kids followed by my parent's 30th wedding anniversary celebrations and then the Reading Half Marathon on Sunday followed by a comedy event in Bramley in the evening. And breathe.

Things are moving swiftly with my departure to Reading; hopefully I'll be there by the summer. We're also moving office at work and I am likely to have the joint responsibility of ensuring "staff engagement" (third sector bollocks talk for making sure the staff are happy) is excellent throughout the whole process. To be honest I'm more concerned about the new furniture I want to get for my flat than the bloody colour of the staff room, but hey ho it keeps them happy.

The idea of the music festival was incredibly well received by all and I'm starting on the networking and hobnobbing that goes with this type of event... I'm really not good at that shit, but alas, I shall learn as the reward massively outweighs the burden.

Spring

Spring is in the air and in my step.

Latitude

Whilst undertaking some research; I have just spotted the 2012 Latitude Festival... Which is give or take a few acts, has my dream line up; with the lovely lovely Laura, Elbow, Metronomy, Paul Weller, Tim Minchin and M83 being the highlights. Although I'm only familiar with three or so names; the poetry tent is a mega bonus and is something which I'd like to include in our soiree next year.

Always remember..

A poke in the eye is better than a packet of giblets.*

(*Drunken advice from my friend Swanny. Can't argue with that.)

Reality

Having discussed the idea of a "fantasy festival" (which is a festival of your own creation with your ultimate line up of musicians / comedians / performers) to many friends; I'm going to try to make it partially a reality.

The Forbury Gardens is a wonderful space in the centre of Reading town. It is also; in my humble opinion the perfect venue for a small-scale, one day festival of music, art and comedy next summer. This will be a festival in Reading, created by the people of Reading, for the people of Reading. All the acts will have an affiliation with Reading and the surrounding area. The proceeds of which will go to Reading charities; especially the one which employs me. I have just had this idea, so I've no idea how they'll feel about this. What has to be considered is that we're currently preparing for four days of work on a short film based around a group of Elvis impersonators (the original idea of making a Zombie slasher film didn't sit well with our Trustees)... So, it's a pretty safe bet that this isn't too far fetched.

Being in possession of a cheery and positive disposition can occasionally lead to great disappointment; but  it also invokes a fuck-it-this-can-be-done spirit and high aspirations. This will work.

SARCs

A sobering topic; but one which I feel strongly enough to blog about. Reading, Berkshire, has an estimated population of 232,000 people and it is without the support and co-ordination of a local Sexual Assault Referral Centre - the closest being in Slough. A SARC is a `one stop shop’ co-ordinated by the Police and NHS. The centres provide victims of rape or sexual assault options, immediate crisis support, forensic medical examination, access to emergency contraceptive, sexual health screening, and access to an Independent Sexual Violence Advisor. 

In event of a rape or a sexual assault; it is unlikely that a victim will - a) be aware of the existence of  SARCs, b) be unable to travel to their "closest" SARC (which may be some considerable distance) or c) be confident that they are going to be treated with dignity or empathy by local services (e.g their GP or Police). These influences lead to disgustingly low levels of detection and conviction for perpetrators of these audacious crimes. The psychological trauma (often resulting in PTSD; amongst many other mental health issues) and impact of victim's lives cannot be measured. The early intervention of SARC staff with victims may result in reductions in the after effects of the crimes and increase the likelihood that charges will be made against the perpetrators.

If you have one minute spare (and you do; if you don't - make it spare); sign the following e-petition to join the campaign for legislation to be brought forward compelling the government to provide a SARC to each town or city with a population of 120,000 or more.

I WANT ONE. NOW.

Good citizen

Never under estimate the power of cheeriness. Support your local coffee shop; they provide an incredibly valuable service.

Imperfections

“Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

I am human, therefore I am imperfect.

Alcohol has something to do with the majority of major fuck ups in my existence. Sleeping with people I shouldn't or wouldn't, injuries (usually involving my back), lost/broken/damaged/stolen items (a last count - three wallets, two jackets (although I did get a "replacement" for one), two jumpers, a shoe, headphones and many pairs of sunglasses), vast amounts of memory loss and not to forget woefully inappropriate statements made to impressively inappropriate people. Disregarding of all of these terrible occurrences, the worst thing that I possibly do is to upset or disappoint those who I love.

I'm going to take some time over the next few weeks to write a personal manifesto. Unsurprisingly, after the previous paragraph, within my intended operational procedure document will include a section on how alcohol is allegedly the solution to, and cause of, most of life's problems. (Copyright Homer J. Simpson.)

Why must our social interactions be centred around displaying these imperfections on such a grossly public scale whilst intoxicated beyond our capabilities?

Conspiracy

There's a conspiracy here somewhere. I'm not usually the paranoid type but when nonsense such as The Only Way Is Essex is winning BAFTAs and One Direction (I have no idea who they are or which direction they're heading) are winning Brit Awards; it isn't beyond ridiculous to consider that the dumbing down of the masses isn't part of a huge plot to bring down society. Before long 'they' shall be giving us our daily dose of Soma and we'll all be drowning in a sea of irrelevance.

British Museum

Usually I trundle around museums or art galleries with a gusto that's usually inspired by the feeling that I should enjoy these cultural jaunts, when in fact I'd rather be outside somewhere, running around. My trip to the British Museum today, however, has proven to be an enlightening and enjoyable experience. Wandering around with someone who has an in depth knowledge of some of the objects opens up doors to a different level of appreciation. The Chinese and Japanese ceramics display were incredible.. In particular the deep blue mirrored vase which stood three feet tall (see picture) and a dish titled 'Dawn' which cascaded from yellow to green to blue in such a natural way that it could've been carved from a precious stone. Other highlights include a viscous looking mace shaped as a Wolverine style claw (which isn't a 'Back Scratcher!' (Family Guy reference) as I assumed) and the spectacular roof of the Great Court. The light inside this space is unlike anything I've experienced before; eerily sedating. The rest of the day has been wandering around aimlessly, breathing in the sights, sounds and smells. Back to work tomorrow after an utterly exhausting (1hour 40 minute! Hurrah!) half marathon yesterday.. Early night tonight, perhaps? Nahhhh :)

I used to abhor getting on trains. The control freak inside me thought that there was no possible way that it was a good idea to let three hundred tonnes of heavy machinery hurtle at one hundred miles an hour on two narrow strips of metal.
Now, after getting on the train everyday for work has created a familiarity; it has brought a certain pleasure. This morning, feeling the heat of the sun pour onto my legs through the window whilst we lazily trundle towards our destination; I don't think I could possibly feel any more comfortable or content.

Skirmish

Life update.

It's good.

Finally, I have had the time to get myself on the move to a humble new abode. This time it's in my home town, five minutes from work and I'll have a GARDEN / PATIO! Where I have been living for the past five years has grown around me; my previous career, friends and all the places that I've become involved with. Although it is depressingly dull when it comes to culture and beauty; it has a curious charm. In the Radio 4 series 'Mark Steel's In Town', I learnt that in the 1880's, local brewers frequently fought bloody skirmishes with the Basingstoke Salvation Army Corps.. One got so out of hand that the Mayor had to read the Riot Act and call in troops. In 130 years, not a great deal has changed. Despite the skirmishes and the lack of culture, I shall miss this place.

In further happy news.. A friend of mine has been able to rejoin his family and home after being away for some well needed rest and treatment. Mental health issues have such an unnecessary and unhelpful stigma attached to them. This stigma often prohibits people from seeking treatment, accepting medication and hampers their recovery. The recent TV adverts which try to demystify responding the those who have been suffering from mental health problems are a good start to bringing awareness to the public. No-one can ever truly empathise with another person's issues, but highlighting that most people don't have the psychological equivalent of the plague if they do run into problems will hopefully help those suffering. Thankfully my friend has an incredible partner and wonderful support network; so this mental health minefield hadn't affected him too acutely.

This weekend we'll be running a warm up half marathon around Eton boating lake.. And Sunday will be spent pondering the history of humanity in 100 objects (or thereabouts; as they've taken a number from display) at The British Museum, which I've been looking forward to alllllll week.

I hope you all have a good one.

Happy Valentines

http://instagr.am/p/G_XC0fgDEM/

Broken freight train

You keep me away
from my grey sofa,
Sainsburys risotto,
the smell of weed that
wafts invitingly upwards
from the chav downstairs
and the worn away carpet
smoothed down after
three years of traffic.

Twelve percent of my
battery remains along
with my patience,
counting the liquorice
All Sorts pattern
on the seats,
flicking eye contact with
the heavily made up girl
four rows away.

Ten percent and the
first growls of hunger
strike and I growl
back fiercer
roaring inside
outside the same patch
of gravel and discarded
bottles stare back at me
blankly along with my face
the reflection of the
scorned commuter.

Wokka Wokka

How parents do it day in, day out bewilders me. This afternoon was spent in the sole company of my friend's three (adorable) children who I took to see The Muppets Movie (incredibly twee, occasionally vomit inducing but a thorough rib-tickler). Despite being impeccably behaved before the film, during the film and afterwards in Giraffe (the staff in there are incredible with kids); the feeling of exhaustion is overwhelming. It was incredible spending time with all three of them. Each of them are quick of wit and as sharp as a knife; they had me in stitches all afternoon. Seeing them grow from tiny creatures into little people is mind boggling.

Dream

I see the sweet and innocent twin girl who I found encapsulating as a young man standing in a dark red dress with angelically curled tussled hair. We embrace and I can smell the delicate flowery perfume of her hair; not changed in twelve years. We are standing outside a church (Sonning? Wokingham?) and I am wearing shorts and a tee shirt. I'm told a certain hymn is playing, which tells her I've only got a short time to run back and get changed into my suit. I run back to an unknown location, change in no time at all, then start running back to the church. I can feel myself running in my sleep; the pressure on the balls of my feet reverberating through my spine. Making it through the doors of the church just in time as I awake, before my alarm sounds.

I Was An Eagle

A new song (as yet untitled but has been given the name "I Was An Eagle") from the one and only Laura Marling. It's given me goosebumps each and every time that I've heard it; which is twenty five times in two days at the last count...

Enjoy.

(Skip forward to 2:09 if you want to cut out the (adorable) waffle. Yeah; I'm completely smitten.)