It’s that time of the year again where I reflect on my reading over the course of the year. It wasn’t the most productive year of reading proper books (the web has cannibalised that for good for me I’m afraid) but a late spurt in November and December brought some redemption. For a more wide-ranging review of the year in books, check out the coverage at The Millions here. My previous attempts are linked here . ...
On my return to my favourite eating-out place for the first time in just over a month, I find I am served by a face I don’t recognise. The accent is also one I can’t place which is why after I place my order, my curiosity gets the better of me. It turns out he’s from New Zealand - he describes his accent as having the Australian twang and the South African heft. ...
Spent the entire weekend building up to a conversation with L. The arguments and counter arguments were all laid out in my head, in my very worst Ted Mosby imitation. Here on the cusp of the actual meeting, it doesn’t feel so cut and dried in my head anymore, which may or may not be a good thing… I guess I’ll know soon enough how it goes.. #Pensive
Reminded of how much I heart Gungor by a conversation… #EarWorm
I chalk it up to the much vaunted persistence of vendors, when T. insists on coming into the office to drop off documents that require my assent rather than pop them in the mail. Part of me is more than mildly irritated at his insistence, given how much I have got on my plate at the moment - and the hour or so I will have to carve out of my day to attend to him. He comes bearing gifts, two large, sturdy umbrellas with alternating green and white panels; splashed with a large copy of his company logo. That does little to mollify me, but I manage to be courteous enough to make small talk and have a quick whiz through the documents I need to sign off. Just before he leaves, he enquires about the potential for future work, a subject I am unwilling to discuss given the state of the industry. When it is time to go home later that day, I leave the umbrella, that decision my nod to its unwantedness. ...
Image Source: Dionysius Burton, Flickr As far as dubious honours go, being asked what part of The States I am from in Union Square has to come near the top of my list; not least because it is unclear what prompted the fairly ancient gentleman to tap my arm and initiate the conversation in the first place. On reflection, my friend A., or more correctly her hair, must have had some input, if his eyes which never left her face had anything to do with it. ...
My father, very much like me, is not a great talker- the sum of our conversation over the course of the year is little more than fifteen minutes. In the main these - 3 minutes here, 2 there, and 5 there have mainly come about as intermissions, snuck in between typically lengthy conversations with my mother - if her constant probing and interrogating can count as conversations. When I wake up to find a couple of missed calls from him on my phone , a whatsapp message from my kid sister, and a BBM message from my brother - all relating to the fact that my father has been trying to get hold of me- it sets the alarm bells in my head off. After arriving from my weekend trip to the middle of nowhere (link) I ordered the largest, most decadent pizza I could from PapaJohns - with a barbecue chicken side- devoured it and promptly fell into my bed for sleep, which was how I ended up oblivious to the clamour for my attention. ...
Fundamentally, I do like you, but there is a but. My initial elation very quickly vanished, to be replaced with a more pragmatic mix of angst, exasperation and some curiosity. LK and I had been chatting, catching up, and following up after my London trip, the main driver for which was a (second) date with her. After church at Hillsong - always a great bonus on these trips - I made my way towards the Angel Station where we’d planned to meet and then do lunch and talk. ...
In her own words, she is complex in a can of cute. Slouched in my favourite chair by my window, with the sound of passing cars, their occasional horn toots and the odd police siren as the soundtrack to my evening, up until then I had been having a chilled, if lethargic evening natter. I had one eye on the evolving tactical battle on my FM2013 Liverpool save and the other on my phone whilst we talked, before we segued into the subject of personality types and tests. Thanks to books like Quiet and Networking for Those Who Hate Networking, I am increasingly secure in owning up to being introverted - which was probably why without too much thinking I owned up to being INTJ. Her initial response was to ask me to translate that into real English; I promptly emailed her a link to the sixteen personalities INTJ page. That set off a bout of good natured teasing and banter at my expense - not that I minded. LK is delightfully great to talk to; her brand of acerbic, intelligent, thoughtful conversation delivered in a voice so soft one would assume she couldn’t hurt a fly is one that I have taken a great liking to over the past three months. Teasing over, I pressed her to take the test herself, knowing just how much insight into her personality it would provide and looking for canon fodder to retaliate. That was the setting for her declaration, in the aftermath of which I found myself soberly considering just what the potential ramifications of the revelation might be. ...
Seems like you’re having a ball for one, the ginger haired man who had seemingly popped out of nowhere said to me as I attempted to retrieve my cup of tea, and turn around at the same time. Epic fail. I managed to do neither, very nearly tipping my life giving cup of tea over in the process. I had been waiting on our epileptic coffee maker to finish pissing a shot of hot water into my cup, passing the time by whistling to myself and looking out with longing for the clear, sunny day that was out there, just beyond my reach for the next few hours. ...