Head Rambles

Grandad April 14th, 2008

The alarm went this morning, and I got up full of enthusiasm.

“Great!” I think - I am going to make great inroads into that contract that has been gathering dust on the shelf, and I am going to produce one of my best blog posts to date.

Then I will have a little nap, and maybe whack into the book and write another 50,000 words.

I greeted Sandy and made myself a mug of tea.  I sat down at the computer and switched on.

As the power surged into the computer, it drained out of me.

I’m sitting here looking out the window wondering where the fuck all my bright ideas have gone.  The act of powering up a laptop has leeched all my creative juices.  I can’t think.  I’m in a brain-fug.

I had an urgent email from a client saying he had a huge problem.  I was going to reply and say I wasn’t a psychiatrist, but then a portion of the brain [about three cells] kicked in and told me that I could fix the problem.  I fixed it.  I don’t know how, but I did.  and the client was very pleased, so it was worth setting the alarm.

But now I’m back in the brain-fug again.  I know I’m supposed to be doing something but I can’t think what.

I was going to write a steamy article on crime and punishment along the lines of Bock’s post, which I would suggest you read.  I feel strongly about it, but not at the moment, because I don’t feel strongly about anything at the moment.

It’s not a hangover.  It’s not lack of sleep.  It’s hardly the after effects of the gallons of strong coffee I had on Friday morning, when I met a friend in the village for a very pleasant chat.

Is it old age?  Is senility finally kicking in?  Are my batteries running flat?  Is it Global Warming? 

I’m worried.

But I’m too apathetic to give a dog’s bollox. 

• Getting old
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Grandad March 19th, 2008

I watched the news last night, which is a rarity.

One of the big stories of the day was the Heather Mills business.

Here we have a case where a woman is awarded £24.3m in a divorce settlement and is complaining.  She has been given more money than anyone else will see in their entire lifetime.  It’s not enough.  One of her complaints was that the child’s allowance would force the child to travel B class when flying.  The child is only four.

I don’t blame Ms Mills.  I feel sorry for her.  She is a child of our age, where consumerism and celebrity are more important than anything else.

Society now is radically different from the society of a few decades ago.  The ultimate aim now is money and instant gratification, no matter what the cost.  It has reached the stage where people actually feel it is their rite to have such things.

Young people today are running headlong on a path to self destruction.  They want happiness and they want it now.  They go out of a night, not to have a drink but to get smashed out of their skulls as quickly as possible.  In my day, we went out for a few pints, and got merry.  More often than not, we would overdo it slightly and end up a bit pissed.  But it would take an entire evening to reach that state.  Now the first thing they head for is the ’shots’ and the shorts.  Get hammered NOW!  Another item on the news was about the alarming rate of increase in alcohol related problems amongst kids in their teens.  Kids are damaging their livers and kidneys before they have even started life.

The consumer society has also gone haywire.  Manufacturers would have us believe that if we don’t have the latest gizmo, gadget or whatever then we are missing out on a life changing experience.  We have to have the biggest, the best and the latest.  Why?  Why should we all drive SUVs?  Why should we all have phones with GPS, instant TV and gaming facilities?  Why should we all have bigger TVs than anyone else?  Because we are told we need them.

So we have a culture of complete discontent.  Those that don’t have it, want it, and those that have it, want more.  No one is ever happy with what they have.  We have bred a society of jealousy.  People are jealous of other peoples possessions or success.  They can’t handle that because it conflicts with their concept of instant gratification. 

So, do you want instant happiness?  Go out and drink yourself into a coma, or take drugs.

Don’t agree with someone?  Kill them.

Do you want a few bob in your pocket?  Go beat up an old age pensioner for their few quid.

Want a new phone?  Find a kid with a better one and steal it.  If you kill him in the process, then what the heck.

What the hell happened to decency and compassion?  What happened to honesty and morality?  What happened to tolerance and goodwill?

I won’t be watching the news tonight.

I’ll be dreaming about The Good Old Days.

• Getting old , Times past
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Grandad March 15th, 2008

I used to live in Head Rambles Manor when I was a nipper.  But then I moved out.  I flew the nest.

I moved back again nine years ago, on the 15^th of March, 1999.  Nine years ago today.

I was thinking about those nine years this morning.  It has been a very strange time.

In 1999, I was an ordinary employee.  I was doing work that I liked in a place I hated.  Life was dull and routine.

Since I moved here, life has taken so many strange twists and turns that I am utterly bewildered.

It started when I quit work.  I couldn’t take the commuting any more.  I couldn’t take the office politics any more.  I wanted a bit of peace and quiet.  I wanted to relax at home with Herself and enjoy the countryside.  I took early retirement.

I was worried that I might get bored, so I started a little business, to keep me out of mischief, to pass the time, and with a bit of luck, to bring in a few extra bob.

I knew nothing about running businesses.  I did get some crap advice which I promptly ignored.  I just did it.

It got out of hand.  The fucking thing was a roaring success.  Now I’m trying to kill the business, or at least tame it a bit, because it takes up too much of my time.

I was also talked into becoming a teacher.  Me?  A teacher?  It was great fun, and I enjoyed it.  It paid extremely well, but again, it took up too much of my time.  I quit that.

Then I started blogging.  That introduced me to another strange world that I didn’t know existed.

I had no idea on this day in 1999 that I was going to

• Become a teacher.
• Start a very successful business.
• Make friends all over the world.
• Win two major awards.
• Appear on television.
• Do live radio interviews.
• Be interviewed by several newspapers.
• Be commissioned to write for the Irish Times.
• Be commissioned to write a book, for fuck’s sake.

As I said - it has been a very strange nine years.

So much for retirement.

Now I’m a little scared as to what the next nine are going to throw up….

• Getting old , Rambles , Times past , work
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Grandad February 22nd, 2008

I had to go out yesterday, but that’s another story.

As I drove up my lane on the way home, I met an old man.  I slowed the car as he seemed confused.  He eventually stepped to one side and I drove in my gate.

I went over to him then and asked if he was all right.  He had a frightened look in his eyes.  He looked at me and whispered so I could barely hear.

"I’ve lost my dog."

"What colour is he?" I asked.

He didn’t seem too sure.  He looked about him as if expecting a prompt from the wind.

"Black," he murmured.  He then shuffled off down the lane with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

-oOo-

Much later, I called in to visit a neighbour.  We had a grand old chat about this and that.  I got up to go. As I was heading for the door, my neighbour mentioned that they had a strange dog in the back garden.  My neighbour is scared of dogs, so I went out on my own into the dark.

There was a tiny terrier standing on the patio.  He wasn’t looking at me.  He wasn’t looking at anything.  He was very old and obviously blind.  I think he may have been deaf too.  I crept softly up to the dog and put my hand under his nose, to let him get my scent.  He trembled a bit and then relaxed, so I gave him a gentle petting.

I rushed back out to the main road and called into the house where the old man lived.  I banged on the door.  The old lady of the house answered and looked at me suspiciously, until she saw who it was.  She looked tired, drawn and worried.

"You lost a dog?" I asked.  There was a gleam of hope in her eyes as she nodded.

"Is he blind?" I asked gently.  She nodded again, and a tear began to form.

"Wait there," I said, and rushed back to my neighbours.  The dog relaxed when I picked him up.  He knew my scent now, but was still a bit scared.  I carried him as gently as I could back to the old woman.  Her husband had joined her at the front door.  They looked very alone, standing there waiting.

As I walked into the pool of light from the porch, they saw the dog.  The fear and hope gave way to joy.  The old man held out his arms, and I gave him the dog to cuddle.  "Fred," was all he said.  He was crying.

The woman too was crying.  She said they had spent the day looking for Fred.  She had washed him the day before and had forgotten to put his collar back on.  And then that morning, in a moment of absence, her husband had left the gate open.  They had been frantic with worry.  They had searched high and low and had walked the entire neighbourhood.  Fred was their comfort and joy.  They feared he was dead as he couldn’t protect himself from cars, being blind.  They had been heartbroken.

They thanked me as I left.  "You don’t know what this means to us," the woman said.  "I think I do," I replied and left them to their reunion.

As I walked home in the dark, the thought struck me…….

Fuck!  That’ll be us in a few years time!

• Getting old
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Grandad December 8th, 2007

Today is one of those days.

I woke with a hangover, which is very unfair, as I wasn’t drinking last night. It’s like doing a sentence without the benefit of the crime. I have been unjustly convicted of drinking.

So my head is in a fuzz.

It’s one of those days when I wander into a room, and then wonder what the f*ck I went in for.

On top of that, I have just broken my lighter. I had only just filled it with gas, and it dropped on the floor and all those little bits of tinny things went skittering everywhere and I can’t get it back together again. A Humpty Dumpty Lighter.

And one of my prize young trees was leaning precariously in the gales we are having at the moment, so I had to go out in the lashing rain and re-stake it.

And I have just had to do a podcast with America and Australia, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. [Which reminds me - the last one we did has finally been edited and has been put on the Interweb - "Kilos of Craic"]

Being silent can work on television, but it doesn’t go down very well on radio, like miming or juggling.

And now I finally sit down to scribble on my blog, and I can’t think of a single thing to say. I’m not even sure what a blog is, just at the moment.

It’s what I call a Senior Moment. Except that it has lasted all morning and a bit of the afternoon.

I have just remembered why I went into the bathroom ten minutes ago.

I need a pee.

• Getting old
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Grandad December 7th, 2007

Being a celebrity is really hard work.

The hardest part is fighting off all the beautiful young women who insist on crawling all over me.

Elaine [Head of the Grandad Fan Club]

It is difficult at my age.

Here I am chatting up Maura McGrath of Jenerate [who sponsored the Blog bit] and I have a furious Glenda about to thump me for ignoring her. I can’t win.

But that damned smoking law isn’t going to spoil my night.

Of course, as soon as I had a spider in my hand, it was too much for Elaine, and she was back. [The other bloke is Cully by the way, not Liam Neeson's son]

At this stage I was getting really worried.  There was another approaching from behind me with a huge tarantula crawling out of her cleavage.

With three spiders, we got a little rowdy, but that was before the band struck up.  They would have drowned out a Shuttle Launch.  Incidentally, the very sophisticated young lady seated beside me is K8 the GR8.

It was a bit wild, because Elaine was also celebrating getting her Masters exams that day, and also I had just signed the book deal.

Frankly, I was glad to get back to the peace and quiet of the mountains.  I could take off that ridiculous suit, get back into my old jeans and jumper and my wooly hat and try to live the life of an anonymous celebrity in the bogs.

• Getting old , Rambles , The Book
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