Revisit – Permanence pt 3

Visiting my home town is always a good way of reminding me of the stuff that really doesn’t enthuse me at all. Every time I go back, I can be guaranteed to meet various people I went to school with, ones who swore they’d leave Thame and never go back. Except it turned out to be “where their mates were” and “the place they knew best” – the massive majority of them have come back there, made homes near their parents and/or friends, and now have children who are going to the same schools their parents went to.

Fair enough – that’s their perogative, at the end of the day. For me it’s just something that appeals about as much as agreeing to receive an hourly kick in the bollocks. Sure, I can think of worse things than going back and living in my home town – but I don’t want to do those either, and given the choice, they’re all pretty much lumped together. Personally I find it virtually soul-destroying to go back, to know that nothing radical will have happened, that the town just shambles along, looking pretty, and slowly becoming a dormitory for commuters.

It’s not just Thame though – the same thing happens everywhere. It’s not just a village thing, or a town thing – even in cities there are whole family dynasties that never leave the area. Maybe it’s just the natural thing to do, that urge to stay close to family, to friends, to the familiar. Are we just really creatures of habit, and the ones who travel, who find new places to live (or at least different ones) are the exceptions, rather than the rule. If so, that’s not something that bothers me – I’m happy to be an exception.

Back when I was at school, so many of my classmates swore they’d leave and never return. Of the ones I know, or know of, there’s about ten who have actually lived up to what they said they’d do. Fair enough, one of them has helped out the average a lot, as he’s now a pilot out of Hong Kong, but the massive majority – probably 90-95% – have returned. What I find even more amazing/ridiculous is that when I see them, they don’t even appear actually to like Thame. “It’s boring, but it’s close to work”, “there’s not much to do, but my mates are here”, “I’d move. but there’s nowhere that’s better”. That’s just three quotes from this weekend – there were several others.

For me, I could never go back on a permanent basis to Thame. It’s not my kind of place at all – plus it would feel somewhat like a backward step, a retrograde maneouvre, a return to a place of history. I’ve never been any good at going backwards, of going back to places I’ve already been to, to things I’ve already done. Perhaps that’s my own character flaw – the need to do new things, rather than returning to the security of the known, the reduced risk of the previously experienced.

Nokia

It’s fascinating – why do SO many people keep that hugely annoying diddle-ee-dee diddle-ee-dee daa Nokia standard ringtone? Do they not know it’s now legally a justification for GBH, Assault, and even Criminal Damage (to whit, flinging the phone out of the nearest window) and that it qualifies under the Geneva Convention as a cruel and unusual punishment? It’s on a par with dum-dum bullets and mental torture.

Even worse – amazing as this concept may seem – is the newer polyphonic Nokia enema ringtone. Diddle-ee-dee diddle-ee-dee daa, only with knobs and bells on. And why is it that on a train, where you’re not really all that likely to miss the bloody call, and surrounded by 80 other people, is it essential to have the phone’s ringtone on maximum possible volume? Already I want to find out who owns that phone on this train carriage, and by the time I’m done with it, they’ll have to clench their arse-cheeks in order to answer the bloody thing.

Stopped in the Street

How to kill a conversation in four words.

Hello Sir, can you stop for 30 seconds to learn how to Help the Aged?

Can I suggest Euthanasia?

And before certain people go up in arms, I’d just like to point out that I don’t actually believe in it, but a) it was pissing down, b) I was in a hurry, and c) I wasn’t in the mood for dealing with bloody on-the-street fundraisers.

This weekend will be quiet

In the name of familial harmony – and the fact I haven’t seen them since December! – this weekend will be low on updates here at d4d™. I’m chez parental units, and doubt I’ll be anywhere near a PC. I’ve got some stuff that needs writing while I’m travelling (and yes, that includes emails to some people I haven’t written to this year in far too long) and so I’ll probably add some content come Sunday or Monday (depending on when I return from the wilds of the Home Counties)

In addition, I’m finally going to be able to take the A3 print down to them that I got done back in January for them. (The A2 print would have been to large to fit in anywhere properly, but I think the A3 will be about right) I just hope they like it – again, I’m sure they will, but that old insecurity bug still kicks in…

And I may even take some photos of the dump town. Woo-hoo, I bet you’re excited now…

Changes – Permanence pt. 2

Over at Naked Blog, Peter was asking about what you would shed if you could. And as part of the general existential funk that I’m in at the moment (see here for slightly more details) I’ve been thinking about some of the changes that I think I’m going to go through in the next few months.

Over the last six months or so, I’ve been feeling more and more drained, generally lacking energy or inclination. In part this has been due to the fact I’ve felt constantly “in demand” with very little self-time. Fair enough, it’s nice to be wanted, but not all the time. I need a break. More importantly, I need to look at some of the people around me, and decide whether I actually want to stay in touch with them.

During the winter the seasonal depression hit me a lot harder than normal, and I think that a fair percentage can be laid at the door of keeping “busy”. For reasons only attributable to my family’s work ethic – and general stupidity – my “busy” equates pretty well with most people’s “Stop the world, I want to get off!”, and in general I’ve now been “busy” (AKA Manic) for about six months. Again, having a hectic social life is good in some ways, but it also needs time off.

Anyway, even though I was hectic as hell, the depression still hit very hard. Throughout 2003 I had people telling me “you’re always there to listen to my problems – you know I’ll be there to do the same for you if you need it” – and towards the end of the year, I did. And of the people I did talk to, and say I was having a hard time of it, not one of them lived up to their promise. Not bloody one. I’m not going to feel sorry for myself about it – mainly because it was still pretty much what I expected – but it doesn’t make it any easier. Perhaps I expect too much from people, just to be treated in the same way I treat them.

The thing is, I still feel drained by these people. I think that the next few months are going to be a bit of a sea-change, as I move away from being always available, perhaps become a bit more obtuse and reclusive. There are some odds and sods that I want to try (Semi-related to yesterday’s question – that should keep you guessing!), and that I need the time for. (And not forgetting that bloody OU course too! Aaargh!) So yes, I think I’ll be spending some time sorting out my own life for a while, and getting headed towards things I want to do. Selfish is a new thing for me, so that might be interesting too. We’ll see.

Detection Fault

Ah, now it’s time to get the readers involved for once. It’s a simple question, but I’ve been racking my brains over it for the last week, and I’m still stumped. So, answers in the comments box to this…

Can anyone think of a UK or US TV series involving detectives/police where the main character has been gay?

I can’t. The closest I’ve really come is the gay cop in Six Feet Under – but that’s not the kind of thing I mean. I’m thinking more of the main character, similar to a Frost, Morse, or whatever, but any detective/policeperson who’s gay. Male/Female doesn’t matter, I’m just stumped…

All responses gratefully received. Bobblehats on, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.

Easy Come, Easy Go

It’s definitely one of those days today. Money comes in, money goes out – this time I’ve had to pay off the finale of my council tax, following a complete cock-up by the local authority. When I moved to the new place, they sent me a notification of what I owed, and I was able to pay the entire thing at once. No worries, I’m sorted ’til April-ish.

Last week I got a letter from them saying I still owed them £100.20. A suspiciously round(ish) figure. So I rang them up, trying to find out why it’d gone up by a hundred quid, and why they hadn’t let me know ’til now.

Well, we sent you out the first bill, which you paid. However, there was a reduction on that because at the time you hadn’t moved in to the house, so once you’d moved in we put the bill up to the correct amount, rather than the discounted rate you got while you weren’t in the house. However, we realised that on that bill we hadn’t given you the single person discount, so we had to send you another notificiation, which was for £whatever, which includes that £100.20.

As for why we didn’t tell you til now, even though you paid us in one lump sum, our system runs monthly, so it’s only this month that that first payment has run out, which is why we’ve now let you know that you owe some more money

Grrrrrrrr, bloody local authorities. I sometimes wonder if their systems aren’t just designed to make life as complicated as possible, and thus justify huge numbers of bean-counters and middle managers.