Back to work

Getting stuck back into work after a week away is never easy, especially when one leaves their desk meticulously tidy and returns to discover desktop chaos. I could hardly see my keyboard for files, post its and random red pens - which had run out. To deter any future annoyances I sent a round robin email to outline how I would prefer people to leave my desk when I am absent, it was entitled 'Do not make a mess, when conducting your business on my desk'. It seemed to elicit a few sniggers from the women in accounts but at least I know they read it. Any further untidy hot-desking should hopefully be deterred!

Back home

Got back to Preston late last Monday. The timing was perfect, a cloud burst overhead as we took a slow trudge up the hill and away from the train station. Never has northern weather felt so good, although refreshing those squally coastal winds on the Isle of Wight play havoc with what little hair I have left. At least you know were you are with days of rain and grey skies. Down there it's bright and sunny one minute, brisk and wet the next. I can't cope with such sudden changes in weather and my Bag For Life can only accommodate one set of spare clothes. It's tricky to dress for every meteorological eventuality, no wonder my brother spends his days in the same shorts, t-shirt, welly boots and sou'wester combo. My daughter, upbeat as ever, insisted we walk to the bus stop rather than pay extra for a taxi. I think she too was glad to be back, even when she was splashed by an erratic driver going through a huge puddle on the ring road. To celebrate we decided to have a chippy tea with extra gravy and a buttered barmcake, there's no place like home.

Slime

Have you ever finished a cup of tea and found something unsavoury lurking at the bottom of your cup? I'm not talking about the tea bag, although that has happened to me many times when I've brewed up at work and then been interrupted by an urgent photocopy task. No something a tad more sinister than that. Something like a bug or spider. It knocks you sick doesn't it? Like finding a rogue hair in a cheese spread sandwich or a random fingernail in the grated cheese atop your sarnie shop baked potato. Well last week at my brother's I had a similar quease inducing experience when he revealed the mugs we were drinking from had accidently been cleaned by the scourer usually used to clean the green slime from the inside of his fish's tank. He seemed rather amused by this revelation, telling me not to worry and that I was made of strong stuff. Thank goodness we were leaving the following day.

Morning

After a fitful night's sleep I stumbled down to breakfast with my spritely daughter. Feeling rather groggy I opted for a full English with extra bacon and sausages, with a large mug of milky coffee. My daughter had a small slice of wholemeal toast and some fruit with a glass of juice. I suggested she pocket a few rolls to make sandwiches for later, offering my two spare sausages and a rasher of bacon as a possible filling. She looked disgruntled, so I proposed she make some butties with marmalade instead. You can't go wrong with a sweet filling for lunch once in a while. At which point she glared at me and said I should stop acting like a pauper. After breakfast I felt more woozy than before and went to lie back down in the bedroom. Thankfully the gales outside had died down and I fell into a deep sleep, only to be woken by the maid frantically banging at the door with the edge of the hoover. As she edged away to wake the next poor soul with her over-zealous cleaning my daughter sprang in announcing that we were going out for a walk round the bay with my brother and his dog. I feigned illness but she would not relent. So I donned a thick waterproof and within the hour was trudging around in the drizzle and gloom, taking in the stench of fresh dog pooh whilst being regaled with tales of misdemeanor by my brother. What can I say? What a super start to the holiday.

Bad night

Thankfully my daughter had booked accommodation on the Isle of Wight. It was a tiny bed and breakfast which teetered on a cliff edge, she had paid extra for a twin room with sea view. Money badly spent in my eyes as we were practically hanging over the waves crashing against the rocks below us.
"They should be paying us to stay in here," I said. She told me to stop being daft and settle in. At least we didn't have to stay at my brother's stinking house with his dirty cups. The man had clearly had a hygiene bypass since I last saw him. True he has always been on the odd side but never dirty. My daughter brought me tea from a typhoid free kettle and we made plans for the evening.
It was a wild night and we were tired, so we just stepped, or should that be swept, next door for a pub meal before we turned in for the night.
That night I slept fitfully, I dreamed of absently placing my bulging suitcase by the window causing the whole building to tip over and come tumbling down the cliff edge, like a horrific cartoon without a stretchy armed hero to save us. I woke in a sweat to the sound of a storm pounding the windows. I could hear creaking and rattling all about me. It was too much I pulled the covers over my head and prayed for morning.

My brother

I am live-blogging from the train on my way back from a refreshing Easter break on the Isle of Wight. It was a super idea of my daughter's to cut loose from the day-to-day grind and catch up with my brother down south. I'm not sure whether she wanted to surprise him with our visit but she revealed on the ferry from Southampton that she hadn't called him but she was sure he wouldn't mind us dropping in as he'd suggested it on a social networking site some months earlier. Anyway when we arrived late Good Friday afternoon it was clear he wasn't expecting us as he answered the door in a threadbare dressing down and comedy slippers. True to his northern roots he was eating a pie as he answered the door and gave off a loud belch as he gave me a welcoming hug. I felt a little anxious and apologised for intruding, at which he roared with laughter and said we were welcome to stay. In fact it felt difficult to leave, or move for that matter, so sticky was his carpet. The place was filthy. My daughter busied herself in the kitchen as my brother and I plonked ourselves down to catch up. He said he'd just watched the Preston Passion that afternoon and had thought of me when he saw the Bus Station, said it brought back memories of me being beaten up by a gang of guys on our way home from a festival. I told him that I'd never been to a festival in my life, then he remembered it was his friend Mick and it wasn't in Preston after all but in Chorley, he fell about laughing at the memory and gave a trump of approval. Something is clearly amiss with my brother but then it always was, even as kids he had a somewhat outlandish way about him. I remember when he used to pull apart and reassemble my toys in a rather bizarre fashion. Thankfully my daughter returned with tea, in mugs stained as dark as treacle, and began talking about our journey down. I took one sip, placed it down and prayed that she had booked a hotel.

Chakra dancing

Well what an entertaining weekend it has been! Had a few light ales down at the Dog and Duck with professional windy and posh boy Piers on Friday, then joined him early Saturday morning at Bend and Snap, followed by a light sardine toastie lunch and then preparation for my big date. Yes date!

Last week when the weather was glorious and I took last minute leave from work I just happened to meet a woman on the park. It was syncronicity at work, like everything had aligned to bring someone wonderful into my path. I noticed her quietly meditating on a sunny bench. The park was packed and the only seat free was the one next to her, so I sat and ate my ham butties in silence as she 'ommed' her way through lunch-time. After a short while she began chatting to me about the health and spiritual benefits of a vegan diet. I told her I rarely ate meat, I only buy ham when it's discounted in the supermarket and always pick the bacon out of Quiche Lorraine. She laughed and introduced herself as 'Atosa'. It sounded so exotic, I asked her where it was from and she told me that it's a Persian name and one she chose when she began her spiritual journey to enlightenment. I asked what her real name is but she wouldn't reveal. After a few minutes chatting she said she had to go but I was welcome to come to a chakra dancing session on Saturday evening. She gave me a leaflet and I said I would definitely be there. Then she floated away in a swathe of golden light. It was a truly amazing experience.

So to Saturday's chakra dancing. It was to be held in a community centre at the other side of town. The flyer stated that one must 'dress for comfort' so I made my way over in a pair of loose fit hemp trousers, baggy jumper and my new white holiday trainers. My daughter thought I had got dressed in the dark but I felt comfortable and confident. Due to catching the hem of my trouser in a bus door as it closed I was a little late and the session was already underway. There was no need to worry though as most of the participants had their eyes closed and beatific smiles across there faces. Atosa was swirling about the room so I went to join her as we stimulated our Chi. The session lasted over an hour, by which time my hemp trousers were saturated with sweat and I was ready to drop. Thankfully the last part of the session involved sitting down meditating. When I came to, Atosa was breezing over to the exit. I caught up with her to thank her for inviting me, she asked if I'd like to make a donation. All I had on me was a tenner and she said that would be fine. She gave me a handful of flyers for other events and said I looked radiant. I think this could result in something very special.