Je m'accuse!

Oh dear, gentle reader - I have been neglecting you again. I've just been rather busy recently, completing year-end accounts for two of the companies for which I am financially responsible. So, I've been knee-deep in paperwork, invoices and receipt, and wishing that I could afford a PA or similar - someone who would perform all these tedious tasks for me. I seem to spend most of my time on administrative matters, and there's hardly any time for being creative. There was a time when I would write something every day (I'm not talking about this blog here) because it was almost a need in me to do so - now I meet up with writer friends and they ask me if I'm writing anything at the moment, and I have to answer "No, nothing".

This simply won't do at all. I still have that need to write, and so to frustrate that need by continually becoming submerged in the burden of administrative matters (and other work), is inflicting an unhealthy amount of stress on any sense of well-being that I might otherwise achieve. It's simply not fair - and if I had a dummy in my mouth right now, I would spit it right out. The trouble is, in today's accusatory society where we are always trying to seek redress from some authority or other when things go wrong, in this situation there is nobody to blame but myself. I take on far too much responsibility - I always have - and the result from this is that I am constantly chasing my tail trying to satisfy all the various people and organisations to whom/which I have made some previous commitment.

It's not as if I receive any recognition or thanks for most of what I do. On the contrary. Usually, I can be minding my own business and just trying to get on with things, when all of a sudden I find myself caught up in accusations and recriminations about all manner of things, most of which I was previously not even aware. It's almost as if other people instinctively know that when something goes wrong for them, and they need to cast around for someone else at whom to throw the culpability, they see me as an easy touch. Everything - whether I am responsible for it or not - seems to stick to me.

Take this morning, for example. My landlord had arranged for some of the wooden flooring in my hallway to be replaced. There was a leak from next door's bathroom which had caused some of the flooring in my apartment to become warped. This sounds quite a simple exercise, I'm sure, and nothing (you would think) for me to worry my little head about. Until, that is, the builder had finished his job. The section of flooring that he had ripped up with such hunky, masculine energy was subsequently replaced by wood which clearly doesn't match the original. The result is a complete mess. Well, it's a neat enough job (the builder was very conscientious and very thorough), but the visual outcome is a stylistic disaster. My landlord, of course, blames me for this. He thinks I should have barred entry to the builder chappy, or at least prevented him from despoiling the former clean lines of the hall. The problem was that I had to leave the apartment while he was doing it - I had a committee meeting to attend (another of my many commitments that yesterday, I could have done without) - and by the time I had returned, the evil deed was complete. I could hardly ask him to rip it all up and start again; the poor lad was exhausted, and it wasn't his fault either - he was only working with the equipment with which he had been supplied.

No, this is clearly my fault again. Everything always is. As I write this, I can see from my window that it is snowing heavily outside. Hmm, this will no doubt cause all sorts of problems for the transport and communication infrastructure of this city, and everyone will start complaining and looking around for someone to blame. I wonder who's sorry head their beady eyes will settle upon this time? Yes, you've guessed it - little old me!

It's not fair!

Irritating People

So in my last posting, gentle reader, I said that I would be getting angry with myself. I haven't done that yet - although sadly, I have been getting angry with other people. This is not good - it is neither beneficial to one's health, nor is it useful for attracting good karma. The trouble is, some people can simply be so irritating sometimes, and then it becomes difficult to avoid the red mist descending before one's eyes. I'm not entirely sure why I let other people's silly actions affect me but just occasionally, I do. Oh, I know what you're thinking - you think that a truly good person would overlook the foibles and iniquities of others; he would dismiss other people's shortcomings and failings with an optimistically indulgent approach. And you'd be quite correct in this, dear reader - which means, therefore, that I am not a truly good person. We must aim to correct this unfortunate position as soon as possible.

Right - here's the plan: First, go to sleep every night with a coat hanger in my mouth so that I always wake up with a smile on my face. Next, give up the booze so that I never get my otherwise razor-sharp judgement clouded again (awareness is everything). After that, have my ego surgically removed (can I get that on the NHS?) so that the fragile shell of my so-called dignity never gets cracked again. And finally, move to another city where none of these irritating, toxic people whom I encounter here will presumably be encountered! Hmm, I somehow wonder whether my approach to all of this is actually the right one? On reflection, my cunning, brilliant, amazing four-point plan does seem a tad shaky, to say the least.

So how else can I rectify this position? Well, a dear friend of mine gave me one of those lucky cat things the other day. She said it would 'change my life' (and presumably she means for the better), so perhaps I ought to forget the plan and just rely on my new paw-waving companion to save me? I actually feel a little better already, just thinking about it. In fact, I'm waving at you now, dear reader - can you feel the benign benevolence flowing your way? I hope so. Ooh, this is going to easy.

I wonder what my Great-Aunt Dolores (she who was run over by a lorry but survived, and who later took up playing the xylophone, only to die within two years by throwing herself over Niagara Falls in a barrel) would have made of this? Dolores's motto when faced with irritating people was: "Don't get mad, get murderous" (she once bit the ear off a woman who had stepped off the escalator in front of her and had failed to move out of the way quickly enough), so I doubt if she'd approve of my lucky cat at all. She once gave me a .25 Beretta Revolver as a Christmas present, so she would definitely have viewed my arm-waving lucky cat as rather "cissy".

However, I still think I'll give it a go. I might also stare at a rather beautiful painting of a cat - and I think I know where I can find one - and reflect on the peace and harmony therein.

Rise Up! Rise Up!

Amidst a week of turmoil and despair, there comes some hope. Protestors against the increase in student tuition fees in England rose up last week and caused violence. This is (despite violence being something that one should always condemn) both a good thing, and a bad thing. It is a good thing because it illustrates that the British character is not quite as lily-livered as our French counterparts would have us believe, but it is also a bad thing because by rioting, the students have inadvertently exposed the manipulative nature of our evil government. You might argue that this too is a good thing, but my point is that when such violence erupts, it becomes all too easy to distract attention away from the real cause of the disquiet. I suspect that the attack on Conservative HQ was tolerated (perhaps even encouraged) by the authorities because it meant that any outrage was then directed at the mob, rather than at the government's disgraceful policies. So, it is my view that last week's incident was actually welcomed by the government (who deliberately under-policed the event) because the sure way to silence people who are saying something you don't like, is to put them in the wrong.

But enough of politics. What of other matters that have graced the previous week? I had a delightful visit from my daughter Sophie and her two lovely friends. The city of Nottingham displayed its magnificent charms to the visitors - charms that included a performance from one of our best bands (Long Dead Signal); an exhibition of contemporary art as part of the British Art Show at both the Gallery and at Nottingham Castle; a bizarre tribute to Rolf Harris who popped into the Davenport Shop of Originality to pose for photographs with a group of didgeridoo players; plus shopping, eating and drinking galore. We had a marvellous time - but as ever, it was all over too quickly and my visitors have now returned to their respective countries, leaving me to ponder my dismal future, alone again. I have been looking this morning at my 'list of things to do' and it is as long and as daunting as ever. Priority number one is to find some work because since taking a couple of months off to deal with my late father's estate, I have had no income at all, and unfortunately more than the usual amount of expenditure. As Mr Micawber was always so fond of telling us, this does not create a good balance for remaining solvent.

And what of affairs of the heart? Ha! That's a laugh - I think my days of romance are long over. This is a shame because I do try to take care of myself, and friends tell me that I'm still reasonably well-preserved; that I dress well; and that I'm a lively and interesting person with a caring heart. My friends tell me that I would make quite a good 'catch' for someone. Hmm, be that as it may, I still don't seem to be able to make a connection with the right people. I don't suppose there's anything wrong in being single - in fact, up until very recently I was always declaring that the single status is exactly what I prefer - but I do sometimes miss the easy comfort of always having someone around to share life's pleasures with. I guess I feel a little bit as if I'm being left behind. Most people I know are in relationships; even my ex-wife has moved on and is planning to set up home with her new partner. Also, up until only one year ago I still had two parents - and now I am orphaned. I do feel a certain sense of abandonment about my current life, and wonder what will become of me? Of course, all this leads me to conclude that more than ever before, it is now time for a change. Change is good - apparently, the universe has to move things out to allow the better and more wonderful things to appear. We are told not to resist change because change means that something even better is coming through. This is most encouraging - and most welcome too!

So, maybe I need to launch a riot on my own life? Smash a few of the windows that look into my comfort zone; tear down the trappings and hangings of my current defensive thought? Why yes, as I've already said in this posting - sometimes, violence can be good; sometimes it is necessary to bring about a change. Watch out, gentle reader - I am about to get angry with myself!

Inappropriate Clothing

I actually don't like Hallowe'en, so why I agreed to get dressed up in the most ridiculously undignified costume on Sunday, I don't know. I had an idea that I should attend the party at the Davenport Shop of Originality dressed as a warlock. However, not wishing to spend good money on an appropriate costume (I'm terribly mean like that), I decided to improvise with items to hand. I have a magnificent authentic Chinese kimono which - adorned as it is in shimmering black satin, adorned with a resplendent red and gold dragon across the back - I reckoned would pass for a warlock's magic cloak. I painted my fingernails a malevolent dark purple (quite evil-looking), and the outfit seemed to be coming to shape.

The mistake, I think, was adding a green satin basque and a witch's hat encrusted with pink, glittery spiders. Somehow, these items seemed to steal some of the darkness from the image I was trying to create. The final result (because I couldn't resist going completely over the top by applying copious amounts of eyeliner, thereby totally spoiling the effect), was that I resembled something half-way between a character in La Cage aux Folles, and Dame Edna. Oh sigh, these things just never seem to go right for me. Nevertheless, the party was huge fun and as the alcohol flowed more generously as the afternoon wore on, I gradually began to divest myself of various items until - by the time the shop had closed and we had headed off to the pub - I was dressed in normal weekday clothes, but still had on the eye makeup. This must have puzzled the somewhat sober and perfectly correct barman who served me later, although he didn't bat an eyelid.

I've never been good at getting it right where the correct attire for the occasion is concerned. I remember a particular incident when I once attended a ball many years ago at some Embassy or other in Lisbon. It was when I was working as a cabin-boy on a Swedish container ship. Our regular route was from Stockholm to Cape Town, stopping first at Lisbon and then various ports on the West African coast along the way. For some strange reason, I wasn't allocated my own bunk on the ship, but had to share a cabin with the Lithuanian chef - he told me that it was because I was his 'favourite' and he was always very generous towards me, although I was so naive at the time that I didn't even realize that some of the 'rewards' he gave me were actually illegal sexual practices.

Anyway, there we were in Lisbon one night, and Vitali (for that was his name) said he had procured two tickets for a posh embassy ball to be held ashore. He had managed to bribe one of the officers on board to lend us a couple of dress naval uniforms, so off we set for what I was hoping would be a very grand night of elegance and luxury. I felt so handsome in my crisp white uniform with its glittering gold buttons; I felt sure that all the ladies would want to dance with me. I was very good-looking in those days (if a little boyish) and had naturally blonde hair. We drew up outside the red-carpeted entrance of a very grand colonial-style building and were soon ushered inside by liveried footmen who I noticed were strangely wearing fishnet stockings and high heels.

Imagine my shock however, when we entered the opulent ballroom and were confronted by a scene straight out of Dante's Inferno! There were men hanging from chains in the ceiling, others were shackled in cages or strapped to racks, some were being led around the room on dog-leads, and nearly everyone was barely clothed. What clothes most of them were wearing seemed to comprise of a few pieces of studded leather, or items of very restrictive rubber. I felt very conspicuous indeed, over-dressed as I was in my smart officer's uniform. As far as I could see, there were absolutely no ladies present, and certainly no-one was in a ball gown. What a strange ball this was. I felt rather disappointed.

Then Vitali (who had often told me always to prepare for the unexpected), suddenly ripped off his outfit with surprising ease, to reveal underneath a studded leather harness and a leather posing pouch. A man in a rubber cat-suit (crotchless, of course) then urged me to do the same, but how could I? I wasn't even wearing any normal underwear underneath my outfit, let alone anything adorned with spikes or shackles. I told him that unfortunately, however inappropriate my outfit might appear to be compared with the others, I would have to keep it on. The party was in full swing now, and drinks were pressed into my hand by Vitali, snatched from trays attached to the bare nipples of the semi-naked waiters. That looked terribly painful for them, to me.

As embarrassing as it was, I decided that I would wear my uniform for the remainder of the evening because, even though there were no ladies present, I thought it might be even more embarrassing to remove it and to stand there naked. However, Vitali had other ideas.....

I just never seem to get these things right. I might give up the whole fancy dress idea in future - I should have learned my lesson back then.