Catching-Up

Based on a photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash ** That doing and not doing are both habits is something that I have come to grudgingly accept over the past month, seeing as the longer I was away from here the harder dragging myself back here seemed. In my defence real life has been manic, the stultifying pressures of time-sensitive deliverables not lending themselves to the pursuit of non-essential, creative pursuits. I have myself to blame for some of that pressure, seeing as I somehow thought fitting a poem a day challenge into everything I had going on would be doable. I made it through fourteen days of that - a minor miracle at least. With some breathing space coming up towards the end of the month, my hope is to go back over the prompts, edit, write some more, and begin the process of pulling some of the pieces together into a chap book for the evaluators in January 2020. ...

Fell behind on the Better Man in 30 days challenge thanks to a quick trip down south to sort out passport issues amongst other things. Methinks I’ve largely caught up now. Day 9 - Take a woman on a date: Caught up with J at at the Rodozio Rico over the weekend. No selfies were allowed, this will have to suffice as proof. Day 14 - Write a letter to your father: A bit of a mixed bag here really given the fact that age and time have mellowed the quite strong views I held to in the past. Doesn’t help that like me he’s not really an emotionally engaged person. Loads to be thankful for but quite a few areas we could have done better at. Fingers crossed going forward I guess ...

TOj and I have maintained extensive conversations over the last couple of weeks or so. But in what must surely count for an oddity, the outcome of the conversations is the sense of being neither here nor there. It might be the fact that we have always known each other in a different context that’s added a layer of awkwardness to it all. The big question, looming large at the back of my mind therefore is if it’s time to cut my losses to ensure we remain just friends, or if it’s worth the gamble of finding out how she feels about me.

Between bites of peri-peri chicken and sips of Coke Zero, my friend Des asked me if I was happy. She - amongst all my long term friends - complains the least about my propensity to wall them off from the reality that is in my head, but from time to time she insists we meet to ‘catch up’. These meetings haven’t happened a lot recently - thanks to her juggling a return to full time employment with an energetic three year old, and travelling. Skipping merrily through town, as she is wont to these days, she asked if I was up for a bite and a drink, which I accepted. We ordered the usual - a platter to share, bottomless drinks and sides of rice and settled in to talk about the minutiae of life, and all the quotidian pleasures we have enjoyed in the year so far. Then - out of the blue - she asked if I was happy. I suspect I managed to side track her question by rolling out my usual spiel about life being what it was - normal and mundane without anything out of the ordinary. ...