The person who confesses ignorance shows it once; the person who conceals it shows it many times.
Japanese proverb
It appears to me that every good blog must have a list. So, as have been enjoying new-found fitness lately and as the time for my first 10k run approaches I thought a list of films that inspire you to become more active would be appropriate. Here it is:
Rocky
American Beauty
Sorry, that's it. I can't think of any more, but if you can then please feel free to tell me.
Rocky is there because of the stirring theme tune, the one that comes on in all the Rocky films at the point where he suddenly decides to get himself fit and take on the next lethal opponent. I downloaded it on to the MP3 player I take out running with me. I look upon it as being like the new KERS (Kinetic Energy Recovery System) that is being used in Formula 1 cars this season, to give an added boost every now and then. I figure that when I reach a point where I am slowly grinding to halt in my run, too tired to go on, I play the Rocky track. Suddenly, my legs are pumping like pistons and I'm powering my way up the steps of City Hall and punching the air. Rocky! Rocky Rocky!
American Beauty is the story of a middle aged guy called Lester Bangs (Kevin Spacey), who ditches his dull job and embarks on a liberating journey of self-discovery. This includes transforming his old, flabby self into that of the well toned athlete. At one point his neighbours, impressed by seeing him out running, ask Lester what he is aiming for - firmer abs, pumped up biceps etc. Lester replies simply - 'I just want to look good naked'. Me too.
And with this aim in mind I was up at 5.30 this morning and set off on a very rewarding run across the common land that is not too far from my house. The 10k I am running in on 10th May goes over this land and I wanted to see if I could handle the small climb it entails. The run was rewarding because I saw so many things and apart from the odd motorist I was the only one daft enough to be out there at that time of the morning. I saw dozens of bunnies and was pleased to see the cows and sheep back grazing. A sure sign that summer is just around the corner. There was also a very good sighting of a sparrowhawk, who was out hunting for his breakfast. As I ran downhill and headed for home along the footpath I ran towards a very attractive young lady. As we drew level she gave me a huge beaming smile and bade me good morning. I'd like to think that she was somehow impressed or was imaging me naked (come to think of it, she could have been laughing, not smiling). Whatever thoughts were going through her head that single act of human kindness lifted my spirit and made me glad I'd forced myself out of bed. God bless you young lady, whoever you are.
Finally, on the subject of lifting spirits, I am attending a Buddhist retreat this weekend and I am looking forward to it very much. The place I am going is a Buddhist community about 20 miles away. Some of the people who live there are ordained as monks and others just live there. It is one of the happiest, welcoming and peaceful places I know.
I am not particularly religious, but what I like about the Buddhists I have met is they don't just talk the talk, they walk the walk too. By that I mean they live very simple lives and are very accepting of others. They are happy to answer questions but never evangelize.
The centre is called Madhyamaka. Here is the link if you wish to know more:
http://madhyamaka.org/index.htm
The centre dosn't just host weekend retreats, it also has longer courses or you can just call in for a coffee and a slice of cake in the World Peace Cafe. For me, as soon as I begin to pass along the driveway towards the house I feel this deep sense of peace and relaxation descend upon me. It is a very magical place.
I will report on the weekend in my next blog if I'm not too chilled out to type.
Live long and prosper.
Thursday 30 April 2009
Sunday 26 April 2009
London Marathon
To be wronged is nothing unless you continue to remember it.
Confucius
It was the London Marathon this morning and I imagine that most people will have been captivated not by the professional athletes and their super-human abilities, but by the thousands of average people who were taking part in this fantastic event.
I remember when the first London Marathon took place in 1981. Even though I was in my early twenties and reasonably fit then, the thought of running for over 26 miles seemed like an impossible feat of endurance. And yet hundreds of thousands of people have done just that. I bet you know what I'm thinking....
When God made me I'm sure she didn't have long distance running in mind. At school I could hold my own in the 100 metres (or was it still yards then?), but I would do anything to get out of those awful cross country runs in the middle of winter.
But there's something very different about being one of thousands being cheered on by the crowd. Something infinitely more appealing than picking my way across icy puddles in my white plimsoles.
Last year I had a couple of health scares. Nothing serious, thankfully, but enough to make me think and to take a long, hard look at myself. So since the new year I have been steadily losing weight and getting fitter.
I hate gyms. I find them so boring. I know for certain that if I join one I might as well put my money into shares in Kingston Communications as I will never keep up with the visits.
Instead I treated myself to the Wii Fit so I could at least meet with my 'personal trainer' in my front room. It's great and it even includes a jogging programme where you jog through a virtual landscape whilst waving at all the cheery virtual beings you meet on the way. Not any icy puddle anywhere.
All was well until I got this terrible urge - to open my door and run down the street. So that's what I did. And I actually liked it. Then I got really carried away and put my name down for a few 10k races to give me something to aim for.
My first 10k is just 2 weeks away and I am so excited about it. I have been following a training programme and I have been amazed just how easily my fitness has improved. I feel 10 years younger!
Yesterday morning I was up very early and ran to the Beverley racecourse - a round trip of about 4 miles. Fantastic! At that time of day it was just me, one dog walker and the sheep. It was a beautiful day and I felt so honoured to have such a landscape so close to where I live. It felt so good to be alive and running on a day like this.
I can't imagine how it felt for the runners in London today as they put mile after mile behind them and passed so many historic landmarks. What a brilliant achievement.
From tomorrow entries are invited for the 2010 marathon. There is a limit of 150,000 applications and these will go into a ballot for the 35,000 available places.
It's very tempting isn't it?
Live long and prosper.
Confucius
It was the London Marathon this morning and I imagine that most people will have been captivated not by the professional athletes and their super-human abilities, but by the thousands of average people who were taking part in this fantastic event.
I remember when the first London Marathon took place in 1981. Even though I was in my early twenties and reasonably fit then, the thought of running for over 26 miles seemed like an impossible feat of endurance. And yet hundreds of thousands of people have done just that. I bet you know what I'm thinking....
When God made me I'm sure she didn't have long distance running in mind. At school I could hold my own in the 100 metres (or was it still yards then?), but I would do anything to get out of those awful cross country runs in the middle of winter.
But there's something very different about being one of thousands being cheered on by the crowd. Something infinitely more appealing than picking my way across icy puddles in my white plimsoles.
Last year I had a couple of health scares. Nothing serious, thankfully, but enough to make me think and to take a long, hard look at myself. So since the new year I have been steadily losing weight and getting fitter.
I hate gyms. I find them so boring. I know for certain that if I join one I might as well put my money into shares in Kingston Communications as I will never keep up with the visits.
Instead I treated myself to the Wii Fit so I could at least meet with my 'personal trainer' in my front room. It's great and it even includes a jogging programme where you jog through a virtual landscape whilst waving at all the cheery virtual beings you meet on the way. Not any icy puddle anywhere.
All was well until I got this terrible urge - to open my door and run down the street. So that's what I did. And I actually liked it. Then I got really carried away and put my name down for a few 10k races to give me something to aim for.
My first 10k is just 2 weeks away and I am so excited about it. I have been following a training programme and I have been amazed just how easily my fitness has improved. I feel 10 years younger!
Yesterday morning I was up very early and ran to the Beverley racecourse - a round trip of about 4 miles. Fantastic! At that time of day it was just me, one dog walker and the sheep. It was a beautiful day and I felt so honoured to have such a landscape so close to where I live. It felt so good to be alive and running on a day like this.
I can't imagine how it felt for the runners in London today as they put mile after mile behind them and passed so many historic landmarks. What a brilliant achievement.
From tomorrow entries are invited for the 2010 marathon. There is a limit of 150,000 applications and these will go into a ballot for the 35,000 available places.
It's very tempting isn't it?
Live long and prosper.
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Meeting Roger
Here is the poem I mentioned in my previous entry. I regard it as a performance piece. I did give an animated rendition of it at a poetry competition a couple of years ago, but the judges were not impressed.
By way of background - the poem refers to an event that occurred as part of the Hull Literary Festival. At the time he had brought out a collection of poems called 'Sporting Relations' and this featured heavily among his readings. I still have the signed copy. Any offers?
Hull Homage
It lingers in my memory
the day I met with Roger McGough
and
Roger
met
withme
A cold night in Hull
with nothing better to do
Roger came to give a reading
and to flog a book or two
Laughed so much I searched for breath
At Let me Die
a Youngman’s Death
imagine my elation
as Roge wheeled out each
Sporting Relation
a dozen cousins
a score of uncles
and just the one granny
old Roger is very lucky
to have such a big family
In the heady mix of humour and skill
my admiration grew
oh dearest crumpled Roger
how I long to be like you
stuffing this thought in my pocket
I headed for the loo
the interval was upon us
and poets must pee too
Wiping my hands on a bright green frock
I noticed the crowd had formed a flock
in the midst of this merry band
stood my hero
pen in hand
A mere tenner was all it took
to arm myself with Roger’s book
and hurl myself into the fray
so he and I can meet this day
drawn into Roger’s bosom
like one of his dozen cousin
Closer now
almost there
I can nearly touch
his wispy hair
then at once
the crowd subside
and poetic souls
at last collide
Now I’m here
what to say
on this our
very special day
my poetic powers
then grow weaker
and I ask Roge
for a Monika
I say something about
it not being summer
but Roge just stares
what a bummer
A swish of pen
the poet writes
the silence cuts
into the night
‘til still wet ink
breaks the lull
Roger McGough
and one word – Hull
Ten years have passed
since we met
I’ve not made it
as a poet – yet
though I hope to sell
my book one day
- signed by Roger
stuck on e-bay
the man himself
sells by the stack
so I should at least
get my tenner back
By way of background - the poem refers to an event that occurred as part of the Hull Literary Festival. At the time he had brought out a collection of poems called 'Sporting Relations' and this featured heavily among his readings. I still have the signed copy. Any offers?
Hull Homage
It lingers in my memory
the day I met with Roger McGough
and
Roger
met
withme
A cold night in Hull
with nothing better to do
Roger came to give a reading
and to flog a book or two
Laughed so much I searched for breath
At Let me Die
a Youngman’s Death
imagine my elation
as Roge wheeled out each
Sporting Relation
a dozen cousins
a score of uncles
and just the one granny
old Roger is very lucky
to have such a big family
In the heady mix of humour and skill
my admiration grew
oh dearest crumpled Roger
how I long to be like you
stuffing this thought in my pocket
I headed for the loo
the interval was upon us
and poets must pee too
Wiping my hands on a bright green frock
I noticed the crowd had formed a flock
in the midst of this merry band
stood my hero
pen in hand
A mere tenner was all it took
to arm myself with Roger’s book
and hurl myself into the fray
so he and I can meet this day
drawn into Roger’s bosom
like one of his dozen cousin
Closer now
almost there
I can nearly touch
his wispy hair
then at once
the crowd subside
and poetic souls
at last collide
Now I’m here
what to say
on this our
very special day
my poetic powers
then grow weaker
and I ask Roge
for a Monika
I say something about
it not being summer
but Roge just stares
what a bummer
A swish of pen
the poet writes
the silence cuts
into the night
‘til still wet ink
breaks the lull
Roger McGough
and one word – Hull
Ten years have passed
since we met
I’ve not made it
as a poet – yet
though I hope to sell
my book one day
- signed by Roger
stuck on e-bay
the man himself
sells by the stack
so I should at least
get my tenner back
Roger McGough's left ear.
Fall seven times, stand up eight.
- Japanese proverb
Well, hello again.
I had my first blogging disaster yesterday. I was getting to the end of a new blog when the computer did that awful thing where nothing works and it tells you that the programme is not responding. It then teases you by suggesting that waiting for it to respond is really an option, shortly before everything closes down and you realise why there is a Save Now button on the blog creator.
So my loving creation disappeared into the ether and my enthusiasm for writing it all out again is non-existent. You didn't miss much, honest. I was struggling for a meaningful ending when it all went Pete Tong. I doubt that there is one.
The blog was in response to a visit I made on Easter Monday to the 47th Annual York Model Railway Exhibition. The gist of my thread was that all men are boys at heart and in praise of the layouts on display. These were not just boys toys, but genuine works of art requiring immense skill and dedication. A picture paints a thousand words so I'll stick a couple of thousand words on here so you too can share my wonder and amazement. Put your anorak on before you look at them.
On then to Roger McGough. In case you don't know, Roger is a Liverpool poet and in the late 60's he was part of a group called The Scaffold. I'm not into poetry in a big way but I must admit that Roger is hero of mine as I admire his use of words and they way he eschews many of the 'rules' of poetry and does his own thing. He's also very funny and appears to me to be an all round decent chap. If you want to get a flavour of Roger's poetry then I recommend Let Me Die a Youngman's Death - a fantastic, lyrical mix of humour and poignancy.
I have actually met him twice. Well, when I say 'met' I mean that I have seen him live twice and then queued up at the end to get him to sign a book. Isn't it awful actually meeting someone you admire? On the first occasion I stuttered and stammered something unitelligible to him and then later wrote a poem about it (which I may post here as it's never going to be published anywhere else). On the second occasion I stuttered and stammered about how I'd written a poem about the first occasion. Thankfully, Roger didn't ask for a rendition.
According to his biography (Said and Done), Roger was born in 1937, which means that he will be 72 this year. And jolly good he looks on it too. But forgetting Roger's fine figure for a minute I want to focus on one part of his anatomy - his left ear. Or, to be precise, what is in Roger's left ear - a diamond studded ear-ring.
It is very common for men to wear ear-rings and if you can afford it then a diamond one is much better than a simple gold stud. But should there be age limits for such things? At one end of the scale I have seen very young children with ear-rings and felt a bit uneasy because this was clearly a parental choice, not their own. And at the other end of the scale should there be a cut-off point beyond which men are forced to remove any body piercings?
For me the answer is a very clear 'No'. In Roger's case I think the ear-ring reinforces his Bohemian image. It sets the tone for a man who doesn't accept rules blindly. So, should I get one?
The day I left school I began to grow a moustache. It was symbol of my new found freedom (I had begun growing one some months earlier, but the Head of Sixth Form told me to shave it off). And leaving work feels a lot like leaving school, so it seems appropriate that I should symbolise my new freedom in some way.
I suppose, I can try it and if I don't like it the little hole will soon grow over. However, the various tattoos I am also contemplating may prove to be a permanent mistake. Better make them discrete.
I have been musing over a tattoo for a while now. What has stopped me is how apalling I would look. I have put on more than a few pounds over the last few years and I can't see the point of going through the pain of getting a tattoo only to hide it away under loose fitting clothing.
But since the New Year I have steadily lost weight (currently 24 pounds) and I have discovered a hitherto hidden passion for jogging. Consequently I have regained a lot more confidence in my physique and the reward of my first tattoo looms ever closer.
Maybe I just need to lose another 7 pounds or so. Watch this space.
Live long and prosper.
- Japanese proverb
Well, hello again.
I had my first blogging disaster yesterday. I was getting to the end of a new blog when the computer did that awful thing where nothing works and it tells you that the programme is not responding. It then teases you by suggesting that waiting for it to respond is really an option, shortly before everything closes down and you realise why there is a Save Now button on the blog creator.
So my loving creation disappeared into the ether and my enthusiasm for writing it all out again is non-existent. You didn't miss much, honest. I was struggling for a meaningful ending when it all went Pete Tong. I doubt that there is one.
The blog was in response to a visit I made on Easter Monday to the 47th Annual York Model Railway Exhibition. The gist of my thread was that all men are boys at heart and in praise of the layouts on display. These were not just boys toys, but genuine works of art requiring immense skill and dedication. A picture paints a thousand words so I'll stick a couple of thousand words on here so you too can share my wonder and amazement. Put your anorak on before you look at them.
On then to Roger McGough. In case you don't know, Roger is a Liverpool poet and in the late 60's he was part of a group called The Scaffold. I'm not into poetry in a big way but I must admit that Roger is hero of mine as I admire his use of words and they way he eschews many of the 'rules' of poetry and does his own thing. He's also very funny and appears to me to be an all round decent chap. If you want to get a flavour of Roger's poetry then I recommend Let Me Die a Youngman's Death - a fantastic, lyrical mix of humour and poignancy.
I have actually met him twice. Well, when I say 'met' I mean that I have seen him live twice and then queued up at the end to get him to sign a book. Isn't it awful actually meeting someone you admire? On the first occasion I stuttered and stammered something unitelligible to him and then later wrote a poem about it (which I may post here as it's never going to be published anywhere else). On the second occasion I stuttered and stammered about how I'd written a poem about the first occasion. Thankfully, Roger didn't ask for a rendition.
According to his biography (Said and Done), Roger was born in 1937, which means that he will be 72 this year. And jolly good he looks on it too. But forgetting Roger's fine figure for a minute I want to focus on one part of his anatomy - his left ear. Or, to be precise, what is in Roger's left ear - a diamond studded ear-ring.
It is very common for men to wear ear-rings and if you can afford it then a diamond one is much better than a simple gold stud. But should there be age limits for such things? At one end of the scale I have seen very young children with ear-rings and felt a bit uneasy because this was clearly a parental choice, not their own. And at the other end of the scale should there be a cut-off point beyond which men are forced to remove any body piercings?
For me the answer is a very clear 'No'. In Roger's case I think the ear-ring reinforces his Bohemian image. It sets the tone for a man who doesn't accept rules blindly. So, should I get one?
The day I left school I began to grow a moustache. It was symbol of my new found freedom (I had begun growing one some months earlier, but the Head of Sixth Form told me to shave it off). And leaving work feels a lot like leaving school, so it seems appropriate that I should symbolise my new freedom in some way.
I suppose, I can try it and if I don't like it the little hole will soon grow over. However, the various tattoos I am also contemplating may prove to be a permanent mistake. Better make them discrete.
I have been musing over a tattoo for a while now. What has stopped me is how apalling I would look. I have put on more than a few pounds over the last few years and I can't see the point of going through the pain of getting a tattoo only to hide it away under loose fitting clothing.
But since the New Year I have steadily lost weight (currently 24 pounds) and I have discovered a hitherto hidden passion for jogging. Consequently I have regained a lot more confidence in my physique and the reward of my first tattoo looms ever closer.
Maybe I just need to lose another 7 pounds or so. Watch this space.
Live long and prosper.
Sunday 12 April 2009
Easter Sunday - Day 1
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step
Lao-tzu (604-531BC)
Greetings!
Easter Sunday seems like an appropriate time to start a new venture. I'm not a religious person but I am quite spiritual and I love the Easter message. For me it is one of hope and renewal. Of being given the grace to wipe the slate clean and start again.What better day to start my first blog?
About this blog
This blog is about a journey. Let me explain.I am a 50 year old bloke and I find myself in the fortunate and privileged position of being able to leave my job in 3 months (11 weeks and 5 days, not that I'm counting) and to retire. Wow!
My life is not so much at a crossroads as at the world's biggest roundabout. The choice of what to do next is massive.
The choices do have some boundaries though. I have three children at various stages of adolescence/adulthood who still need dear old Dad now and again when life presents its inevitable problems and, in the case of the youngest two, to provide financial support. And long may that be the case.
Taking stock
In the job I am leaving behind it is quite common for people to 'retire' when in their late 40's and early 50's. From careful observation I would say that about 90% do not plan their retirement in advance and simply wait to see what turns up. Most take up a new job, often very similar to or even identical to their old job. And with a pension and an income life goes on much as it has before, albeit sometimes with bigger cars and more exotic holidays.
I, on the other hand, must be a bit odd, because I can see no attraction in that whatsoever. I see the opportunity for a new life. A chance to re-invent myself. In one way or another I have been working towards this point for years.
I think I should point out that although I am blessed with having my two youngest children still living under my roof (although one is at university now), I am divorced so I don't have the obligations that those who have managed to be more successful at marriage than me have. I also live in a very modest house, choosing not to have a huge mortgage but to put money aside into my 'education' fund so that I don't have to work just to keep my kids at university or whatever.
Gap Year
Although you can't tell from this, I do aspire to be a writer and I am studying creative writing at my local university. For a long time my retirement plan was to allow myself some space to give it my best shot at writing. You know the stuff - get up in the morning, write a bit, go for a walk in the afternoon, write a bit more, create a best-seller, sell the film rights and maybe even blag a cameo in the movie. Sorted!
I haven't given up on that dream but I have become suspicious of it. For a start, 85% of all writers make a very modest income. And there's the time - should I invest it in this way? And finally there's mortality. That curious sense of never knowing what is round the corner and deciding to seize the day before it's too late.
If I believe in anything in life it is that if you give it long enough the natural way of things is balance. Ying and Yang. Or, the middle path as Buddha Chakyamuni described it. So, I have decided to grant myself the grace of a gap year. A time to step off the treadmill and learn things, mostly about myself.
The Middle Aged Gapper
Here's the plan:
To travel as extensively as time and money will allow, whilst still meeting my responsibilities to my children (and my dog). And, in the interest of balance I will be doing some writing along the way and seeking out opportunities to earn a few shekels between trips. Maybe even some voluntary work too.
This blog has a start and an end. It starts here and catalogues my last few weeks in a collar and tie. Then it moves off into the unknown and with any luck we will see fantastic things and meet wonderful people. It ends in July 2010 (after England win the World Cup at football (soccer)).
I have no idea how this ends, but my prayer is that it will be exciting and fulfilling for me and interesting for anyone who is gracious enough to follow my journey.
Live long and prosper.
Lao-tzu (604-531BC)
Greetings!
Easter Sunday seems like an appropriate time to start a new venture. I'm not a religious person but I am quite spiritual and I love the Easter message. For me it is one of hope and renewal. Of being given the grace to wipe the slate clean and start again.What better day to start my first blog?
About this blog
This blog is about a journey. Let me explain.I am a 50 year old bloke and I find myself in the fortunate and privileged position of being able to leave my job in 3 months (11 weeks and 5 days, not that I'm counting) and to retire. Wow!
My life is not so much at a crossroads as at the world's biggest roundabout. The choice of what to do next is massive.
The choices do have some boundaries though. I have three children at various stages of adolescence/adulthood who still need dear old Dad now and again when life presents its inevitable problems and, in the case of the youngest two, to provide financial support. And long may that be the case.
Taking stock
In the job I am leaving behind it is quite common for people to 'retire' when in their late 40's and early 50's. From careful observation I would say that about 90% do not plan their retirement in advance and simply wait to see what turns up. Most take up a new job, often very similar to or even identical to their old job. And with a pension and an income life goes on much as it has before, albeit sometimes with bigger cars and more exotic holidays.
I, on the other hand, must be a bit odd, because I can see no attraction in that whatsoever. I see the opportunity for a new life. A chance to re-invent myself. In one way or another I have been working towards this point for years.
I think I should point out that although I am blessed with having my two youngest children still living under my roof (although one is at university now), I am divorced so I don't have the obligations that those who have managed to be more successful at marriage than me have. I also live in a very modest house, choosing not to have a huge mortgage but to put money aside into my 'education' fund so that I don't have to work just to keep my kids at university or whatever.
Gap Year
Although you can't tell from this, I do aspire to be a writer and I am studying creative writing at my local university. For a long time my retirement plan was to allow myself some space to give it my best shot at writing. You know the stuff - get up in the morning, write a bit, go for a walk in the afternoon, write a bit more, create a best-seller, sell the film rights and maybe even blag a cameo in the movie. Sorted!
I haven't given up on that dream but I have become suspicious of it. For a start, 85% of all writers make a very modest income. And there's the time - should I invest it in this way? And finally there's mortality. That curious sense of never knowing what is round the corner and deciding to seize the day before it's too late.
If I believe in anything in life it is that if you give it long enough the natural way of things is balance. Ying and Yang. Or, the middle path as Buddha Chakyamuni described it. So, I have decided to grant myself the grace of a gap year. A time to step off the treadmill and learn things, mostly about myself.
The Middle Aged Gapper
Here's the plan:
To travel as extensively as time and money will allow, whilst still meeting my responsibilities to my children (and my dog). And, in the interest of balance I will be doing some writing along the way and seeking out opportunities to earn a few shekels between trips. Maybe even some voluntary work too.
This blog has a start and an end. It starts here and catalogues my last few weeks in a collar and tie. Then it moves off into the unknown and with any luck we will see fantastic things and meet wonderful people. It ends in July 2010 (after England win the World Cup at football (soccer)).
I have no idea how this ends, but my prayer is that it will be exciting and fulfilling for me and interesting for anyone who is gracious enough to follow my journey.
Live long and prosper.
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