Dolphins

More friends are leaving.

Waz’s exit of a few weeks ago was neutralised, if only fleetingly, by his unexpected return to the lunch group last Tuesday – his Japan start date was put back a week enabling him a brief return to the homeland and a chance to exchange some real life smiles. Not to mention another chance to beat him at Pitch and Putt. I have thought about giving him the blog address when he is away; he can be trusted.

To even further away.

Thoughts also echo from the first year after Uni. Everyone was working in jobs they hated wondering why their degrees seemed worthless. My two best friends at the time decided, for different reasons, to move to Hong Kong. It was tough. I’ve kept in touch, of course, but it’s not the same. I see them less often than the seasons. They’ve both married and had kids, our lives seem so different now, but I can’t talk to them to find out if it’s true.

A’s and Jen are emigrating to Tasmania. The final link in their chain to Australia is being forged as I type, but they will leave in September irrespective of their visas stating ‘Skilled Migration’ or ‘Tourist’. Their minds are made up, the legalities will follow. They said they want a change; they’re going to seek out their dream and try it on for size. I joke that they’ll be back but for now at least there is certainty in their eyes. They have come down to Plymouth to consolidate their Uni memories of the place, to tick things off their ‘To do’ list before they leave. We sit up on the Hoe and talk while my head gets an unhealthy dose of April UV. Then Jen sees the dolphins. A pod at least 50 strong, adults and young, are swimming through The Sound. I can’t quite believe my eyes. It’s a beautiful spectacle that gets missed by most of the land dwellers, they’re too busy to notice. Whatever their conversations include, it is not worth missing this moment. Their futures will be starved of this memory, their minds forever oblivious. Silently we gaze in amazement as the dolphins swim through in front of us, the occasional breach betraying their location; individuals seemingly moving faster than the group. They swim to the west, their dorsals soon smaller than flecks of the reflecting sun.

They are gone.

But not forgotten.

To my friends and the dolphins. Good luck.

Spring? (Goodbye)

The final light of the day lingers behind the city. I look back across the water to Plymouth and marvel at the sight, both of the skyline back lit in orange, and of the promise of spring, delivered earlier in the day by the clear blue sky. The shorts and vest tops were out around campus. There was clean, crisp, morning air as I walked into work. Summer songs on my iPod unlocked previous memories of barbeques, sunburn and smiles. It a wonderful time of year; so much promise. So much to look forward to. But first I have to say goodbye.

It is the nature of studying, or working at a university. Friendships are strong; the randoms that you meet on your first day have similar interests to you. Your nerd factors match, you’re destined to get on. You share ideas on life, thoughts and fears of the future. You go on to share similar highs and lows.

But the turnover is great. Contracts are short; a year, possibly two. The overlap is all too often less than this. Waz is off to Japan at the end of the month for two years. He has been down here too long, and while I wish him the best, it is still a huge shame to say goodbye. He has been the main catalyst for me settling so well into Plymouth after a shaky start. Who is going to organise the next bowling league? Who will I beat at pitch and putt? Who will replace him in our office? Time will no doubt deliver a replacement, things will move on and we will all act like its OK. But we’ll all miss you mate.

Sayōnara.

Being friends?

Sorry, its boring I know, but another diary post has to be gotten off ones chest...

The big BDay night went well up until the final hour, which saw another argument between me and AnnE. She and DPSyc had come up to the Stol and we were all gunna stay on the floor around a friends house. D still didn’t know that we had been seeing each other – A had said previously that she didn’t want to tell him to avoid any house awkwardness. This was bothering me a bit as it meant we were still not open in the house- she would, for example, scurry out of my hug if she heard D coming down the stairs. Most of my better friends knew about us and I thought this weekend would be a good time for him to find out. Anyway, AnnE had arrived first. I made an effort to look after her, kept an eye out to make sure someone was with her and went over and talked to her if she was on her own. The drink flowed and eventually everyone seemed to be having a good time. I had gone up to the DJ to ask him to play The Killers' Mr Brightside at midnight as my Birthday came in, but at the last second decided to leave it to fate. 10 minutes later everyone is laughing at me as I do a fucked off dance to Maria Carey's version of All I Want For Christmas Is You. A and I suddenly find ourselves alone – D was off somewhere so I grab her and we have a really good kiss. I hug her and everything feels great.

Much like the young guy in the police drama, who is doing his last drugs bust before heading back to Law School to support his young family, it is all too predictable which way it is going to go.

We dance some more and D comes back. I back off and get my drink. The songs pass and I get bored. I eventually ask her if it’s a good time to tell D about us, but she cant hear me. I grab her hand and take her to a corner, but she still cant hear. I take her outside, where she can hear, but doesn’t listen to me and thinks im being jealous like last week* and having a go at her for dancing with D. I explain I only want to be alone with her so we can kiss, but that I also think its time we told D so we wouldn’t have to be secret. Probably 5 or 10 minutes pass, but we are not progressing. The floor seems to shake a little as she says that its over between us.

I protest but shes sure. I ask for a reason. She says that people always split up. She doesn’t want to fight with me and that if we keep going out we will split up and it will be awful. I was so nice to her last week when she was ill that she realised she doesnt want to lose me. She only wants to be my friend as friends can last forever. I tell her that’s stupid and that people do stay together - that people definitely don’t stay together if they break up before they’ve had a chance of going out properly. Shes asks me to name 5 couples who have stayed together and I give her them without missing a beat, but it does no good.

People start leaving the club, walking past us as I try to talk her round. Toast walks past with some friends and gives me a knowing look as we low five goodbyes. D comes out with Meg and C-Unit. I say to them all that me and A have been going out, but that she has just dumped me. I count at lest 4 tumbleweeds blow past. I turn to D and say 'sorry I didn’t tell you sooner'. They suggest we go back to the flat. I go to get my coat and Anne comes too. She says she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend. This hits a nerve and I tell her to fuck off. We get back to the guys and I check my watch, its 2.35 – ten minutes until the last night bus back to my folks’ house. I say im going to get it, and that D and A should go back to Meg’s as planned. I walk off but A follows me. She doesn’t want to leave it like this. As the kebab queues diminish, and the last few drunks leave the street, it goes on and on. She doesn’t give a better reason than not wanting to lose our friendship when we break up further down the line, even when i suggest a few to her. We soon stop communicating. The layers of arguments become so thick that we are barely touching the cake.

Thinking about it now, she is probably right – we have argued or talked about arguing more than we’ve had fun over the last fortnight, and that isn’t really the foundation for a long term relationship. I can see that logically, but in my heart I still want to make things work out. If she really wants to be friends so much she shouldn’t have kept trying to pull me this year when she was drunk and I was seeing the Twin and LEA. Even when we talked soberly about getting together there was no mention of the friends-being-lost problem. Meg asked me the next day if she thought it might be the case that she was only interested when it was secret and exciting. I hadn’t ever thought that, and don’t really now, but the last paragraph, at least, paints that picture.

What is blindingly obvious is that there are other reasons that she is not saying. I would really like to know them, just so I can take them onboard – they might help me out in the future.

The next morning I wake and feel wholly rubbish. I look around my room and recognise my bedroom as the one at my parents house. The memories of the above flood in and I hope it’s a bad dream. I remember walking A back to the flat and then walking about a park in Clifton wondering where it had all gone wrong. Eventually I got a taxi home and had a good chat with the driver about what had gone on. The texts soon start rolling in from around the country from friends wishing me a happy 30th and hoping that I had a good night out. Among them is A saying shes ‘sorry very very sorry’. I pin some hope to this and over the next day and a half we exchange a few texts- me asking if we had really split, her replying that she was sorry. I eventually phone her to ask her if there is any future for us. I need to know. She says that there isn’t after what I said. I don’t remember what I said but she doesn’t want to go back over it.

So here we are again. Dumped twice in 3 months. I had made a resolution last year to make a greater effort with girls, to take more chances, and it has worked well. But its not a nice feeling to get dumped, especially for a shit reason. Everyone said it was a bad idea to go out with a friend and a housemate, and my current hesitation to head back to the flat serves as fairly conclusive proof that everyone was right again. Despite this, under the same circumstances, I think I’d have to do it again – You’ve got to try these things out for yourself.

There are, however, some positives. I only slept 3 hours on Sat night worrying about this. I managed 5 hours last night, and with the definitive closure gained in conversation today my head feels a lot less like a Spectrum trying to load up Vista, so I might well do the 8. I got over LEA – I certainly dont hate her anymore – and ill get over AnnE. I haven’t even cried this time. Maybe we can even be friends. Don’t get me wrong- I will miss the hugs, and id like a better reason off her when I see her, and I really hope she tries to pull me again at some point so I can tell her to fuck off - but it is obviously for the best if she doesn’t want it, so I will get my shit together and move on. I can plan holidays now, ive got some motivation to train hard and I will not have to worry about her or her problems so much. The biggest positive was realising my friends will be there for me. Meg and C unit took me out the next day even though I barely said a word and C was completely open and philosophical on his previous lost loves as I gave him a lift home. JB and Barbie were on the phone to me straight away and Pman made me laugh out loud for 5 minutes with this text (following on from a ‘cheers for coming, I got dumped at end’ - type effort from me);

We both had a brilliant time! Sorry about AnnE but my brief assessment was nice tits, bad attitude so I think you’re better off without. I hope you don’t somehow get back together and end up married now.

The blogTV show, ‘Living with my ex in the same flat’ will begin in the New Year.

Merry Xmas y’all.

*her dancing and flirting with some cocks last week were The Truth - star of the last post.

Very apt...

I've just had the craziest week,
Like a party bag of lies, booze and then deceit.
And I don't know why I want to voice this out loud,
It's therapeutic somehow.

So I'm moving to New York cos I've got problems with my sleep,
And we're not the same and I will wear that on my sleeve.
So I'm moving to New York cos I've got issues with my sleep,
Looks like Christmas came early, Christmas came early for me.

I put one foot forward and ended up thirty yards back,
Am I losing touch? Or am I just completely off the track?
And I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud,
It’s therapeutic somehow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTEN359V8pI

(...apart from the moving to New York bit)

Oh. (Dumped)

Oh.

Still no news from LEA. No text. No message. I hate myself for doing so, but I check her Facebook. She is definitely back, its full of loads of shit updates. Whats going on?

I email her at lunchtime, ‘Hey! Are you back?’

She replies, ‘Yeah’

Nothing else. One word. Not even a full stop.

Oh.

This is not good.

I don’t reply.

The afternoon passes.

I walk home, and decide to go up round the Hoe. I pass a bench looking out over the sea and sit down to think. I look to my right and see another bench. I suddenly get a memory. That bench, this location, has some history. It’s the bench I sat on about 9 years ago, under what feels like similar circumstances, when I had just split with my Uni girlfriend. At this moment (well, lets not lie, about 1 minute after id set off again) I get the text.

'Blah blah blah are you free for a chat blah blah blah blah I'm finding more than friends weird and holiday made me realise that. Don’t want to loose you as a friend thou blah blah blah blah'

Oh.

So that’s it.

My mind whirrs. I'm gutted, but it’s some sort of relief to know at least. My brain kicks out these thoughts, in this order, over the next 5 minutes:

1. Does that mean she’s shacked up with some cunt on her holiday?
2. What am I going to do with the tickets I bought for us to go and see Tim Minchin on Sunday?
3. I cringe at the thought of sending her a FaceBook message while she was on holiday saying that I missed her loads.
4. What / How has (this) gone wrong in such a short space of time?
5. I don’t think I want to be friends with her. Ive seen a different side and cant go back.

I get home. I decide to run away from the problem. I run for 2 hours. I did 1¾ hours yesterday, so I’ve just set a new record for the most running I’ve ever done in 2 days – about 30 miles.

I feel more angry than distraught.

But I still cry a little bit.

My thoughts sway between two schools. The ageing 3-belt champion idea is to call her up and launch into her; tell her she shouldn’t be so fickle, shouldn’t fuck about with peoples feelings, and should have told me before she went on holiday. But this is not me. The undefeated young challenger idea is to try and rise above it – we were good friends once - we've got lots of mutual friends. Maybe, probably, in a week or two ill be grateful for doing so if I bite my lip now. I decide to not reply and let things set in for a day or two.

Then I get home and change my mind. I think I should send her a text or else she might call me and I don’t really want to speak to her. At first I write:

‘WTF?! Youre so weird. You shouldnt fuck about with peoples feelings’

But during typing it the predictive text only found ‘duck’ instead of ‘fuck’ and as I was trying to solve it the screen suddenly said ‘Sending Message.’

Panic!

I press every button on the phone 34 times in one second and thank fuck it cancelled the sending. Phew. I’m not sure what LEA would have made of ‘you shouldn’t duck’ Maybe she would have taken it as a threat – ‘don’t you fucking duck bitch when I shoot at you!’ - Or maybe not. I think back to when I finished with the Twin and got a blank text through; I guess she wasn’t quite so lucky with the cancelling.

Having read the text back it sounded a bit jovial, a bit matter of fact. I want her to know she has hurt, but I don’t want to write an essay. I change it to;

‘Oh. Understood. I am gutted. You shouldnt be so fickle with peoples hearts’

No Reply.

Good.

Now I'm in my room listening to Damien Rice and Arcade Fire, typing this. I made some freezer bolognaise but cant eat it. I try to phone my mum (she doesn’t know about LEA) as it would be nice to have a chat about nothing in particular, but she is engaged for three tries.

Oh.

Without wanting to sound too fickle myself, I’m looking forward to ‘Amazon’ tonight more than ever. Ive heard that they go to Manaus in one episode, the city I stayed in for 6 weeks last year.

I hope AnnE and DPsyc are not downstairs as Ill have to tell them and it will be rubbish.

Dumped.

Oh.

The Sport and The Girl(s)

Rubbish. Ive left too long between posts again. My boss has come back from Oz so ive been busy catching up with the stuff I should have done while she was away but was watching YouTube for most of the day.

Bristol half marathon was a lovely day out. I ran with my friend J for a few miles, then he pulled away from me and I never saw him again until the end. He finished 1 minute in front of me with little training, which was ever so slightly annoying, but I did do my best time for Bristol by 1 second which cancelled out any disappointment. Another friend was 40 seconds in front of me, and his brother did under 1 hour 20 seconds, which is a ridiculous time. I enjoyed the day, and despite the even shitter than usual goody bag, it is a treat to run around the closed off city streets which have so many childhood memories.

I saw LEA on the Friday night before and had an OK time at the cinema. We watched Rocknrolla which was quite shit, and she was very tired throughout the evening. She then bailed on coming to the race, and then I couldn’t get in contact with her in the evening so had to head back without seeing her. I was, at the time, convinced something was up.

Last weekend I did a posh gym triathlon. It was very funny. DPsyc, my housemate, is a member there and noticed a flyer on the wall advertising a sprint triathlon. It turned out to be a 5k exercise bike, 3k outside run and finally 10 lengths of a 20m pool. I turned up and had a look about the place, which emerged to be incredibly nice. The huge aircon room full of machines and weights, the aircraft hanger of indoor tennis courts, the spa, the pools, the everything. But with hindsight, maybe it was too nice. I don’t think id be able to properly train in such nice surroundings- id be wanting to sit down and have a coffee rather than busting out some running. Anyway, I made my way to the ‘Conservatory’ where 8 exercise bikes were lined up. I’ve never really had a go on a proper exercise bike, so had a quick warm up while I was waiting to start. It doesn’t really bare any resemblance to road cycling but is quite good fun. The distance goes down faster by either increasing your pedalling speed or by increasing the resistance. I just got my cadence to about 100 and then dialled up the resistance to what I felt like I could keep going for 5k. I ended up doing it in 7 minutes something, which was in second place, about a minute behind some old guy who had gone out hard and looked like he was really struggling to stay upright as he negotiated down the steps to start his run. I caught him up on the run and was about 20 seconds behind him as he started his swim. I eventually overtook him on the last length of the swim and so won my heat by 4 seconds. I got an email with the results on the next day and it turned out that I had finished second overall. That’s my best result ever, by miles, which was truly exciting! And just shows that if you want to get fit, and nice comfy gym is not the place to do it.

LEA has been on holiday for the past week or so, which has left me lots of time to both reflect on what is happening between us and avoid kissing other girls when drunk. Two feats which I have achieved with some pride, but, it remains incredible how much more interest I am attracting having told people im now ‘seeing’ someone. Its like you are flagged up as an acceptable catch when you’re seeing someone else, while you get pased over as potentially dodgy when you’re single. I think I might write this up as a post, if I can just find some time to waste at work.

Good weekends to you all.

Wakey Wakey!

Yeah I went Wake boarding last night. Do you see what I’ve done with the title there?

A few of the guys from work go every week and there was a spare place on the boat so they asked me to come along. My only concern about doing it was getting injured as I’ve got the ‘Stol Half Marathon in 2 weeks, and I have seen quite a few of the first timers hobbling about the day after with a whiplash or crooked neck from a wipe out on their first go. I’ve always fancied giving it a try though so it seemed too go a chance to miss, and plenty of time to recover if it did all go wrong.

I’m really glad I decided to go too, it’s Fantastic Contraption-esque in how much fun it delivers and was a great evening. I think it was worth the £10 fee just to have a drive around Plym sound for a few hours, and we even had a hint of sunshine (which has been extremely rare this summer):



I got a lot of advice from the regulars on how to get standing up, which, apparently, is the most difficult part. Waz went first and zoomed around both sides of the wake and even pulled the ‘Michael Jackson’ pose, which as you might imagine involves your right hand grabbing your crotch and shouting something that sounds like ‘Shaaa-mon!’

It was soon my go and I sat in the water, legs bent, touching my arse with my heels as I’d been instructed. The boat pulled away, and as instructed I didn’t fight the rope, and tried to let the boat pull me up. After about 0.5 seconds I was in a desperate fight with the rope and boat didn’t seem to be pulling me anywhere but under the water. After about 1 second I was going head first, doing a quite convincing impression of a basking shark as gallons of water went into and swilled around my mouth, and then with no gills to escape from it all went down into my stomach. Not a good start, I thought, as I coughed it all back up again. My second go achieved a similar fate, and I was probably on about my tenth go before I eventually managed to get standing, then changing direction, and then crossing the wake before taking a dip. Looking back now I think I got too much advice at the start and did the best when I just pulled myself up on instinct rather than doing everything I had been told. On my last go the driver, Tam, gave me a ‘circle of death’ which is a first timers initiation involving him driving in a circle as fast as he can, everyone on the boat shouting ‘C-O-D!’ ‘C-O-D!’ as loud as they can, and me spinning wider and wider on the rope, going faster than I can, right up until doing my second impression of the evening, this time of a skimming stone that had been thrown by a professional stone skimmer, as I bounced over the water crooking my neck and giving myself whiplash.

Today I’m having to do that thing when you have to turn your whole body to look a different way, which is quite annoying, but nothing a nice rest won’t fix. I'm now wondering if I'm cool enough to pull off describing myself as a 'Boarder.

Probably not.

A Tradegy

When I was at Uni up north I used to play 5-a-side football for a staff team. We were generally older, slower and less fit the whipper-snapper undergrad teams, but we partially compensated by having a greater experience of the game and better organisation. The team was quite an interesting mix. We had the local MP in goal who was excellent at debating with referees about their dodgy decisions. I used to play midfield with a chef from Barbados, right behind our striker ‘Fletch’. He was a particularly interesting character – a scouser, an ex-monk, and now a religious studies lecturer. He apparently used to be the monk with the thought of the day on the 90’s breakfast TV show ‘The Big Breakfast’, but I can’t find anything on Google to back this up. We had an average season, but not knowing many people in a new town I really enjoyed playing and having some banter with the guys. Fletch organised a Christmas meal, and everyone, particularly Fletch made me feel part of the team and we laughed and joked our way through that evening and the next season. Eventually work dictated that I move away and I rarely, then never, saw the team.

I got sent a link to a Facebook group I could check the latest season’s results, and I heard that promotion was on the cards and that Fletch had got married and just had a little girl. Then last week I heard that Fletch had been to Australia on a conference, and had died from a heart attack.

Time and distance apart had softened this blow to me, but it’s always a horrible shock when you hear of someone’s death, especially someone who was so young and had just started a family.

'A Tradegy' just doesnt seem to do it justice.

Sardines

We had been driven up river, floated, paddled and swam down to the campsite, and everyone was now making severe dents into their BBQ, beer and wine supplies. Someone suggested a game of ‘Sardines’ which involves one person hiding in a set area and the others trying to find them. The twist is that when you do find the hider, you join them (ideally without anyone else seeing you) and this continues until the last person is walking around on their own. It can get quite scary in the dark on your own, particularly if you play it in a closed fairground, which we did. After the first game it was decided that everyone should pair up, as the dark and ghostly horse faces on the carousel were making everyone jump, giggle and then reach out for some nearby reassurance. In the second game, LEA (with whom there is some history) and I had to hide. We ran off into the dark as 12 other 25-30 year old adults got into a huddle and counted up to 60 out loud. We found a carriage on the carousel that was made to look like a pair of the ghostly horses were pulling it around. We managed to fit under the seats where we faced each other, both giving out prods and tickles in an attempt to make each other laugh out loud and give away our position.

That was when it turned slightly scary.

But funny.

The fairground owner, a gypsy, came over and told some of the hunters that ‘this area is closed’ and ‘you should all leave right away’ The hunters took him seriously, but didn’t want to abandon the game. The Gypsy came over to the carousel and stepped up onto it, about 5 metres from where we lay. The whole metal base lurched over slightly under his weight, then clunked back up to level. We heard his footsteps as he traced a path across the carousel, then it lunged down and bounced up again as he stepped off. We heard the hunters calling out our names and telling us the game was over as everyone had to leave the fairground. We then saw J come over and he spotted us, dived into the carriage and started giggling with us, all in about 5 seconds. We whispered in the dark about what we should do, and were about to get up, when we heard someone else coming over. A couple came and stood right by the edge of the carriage. They began kissing, and for a horrible moment I thought they might come and sit in the carriage, but instead the girl got up on the horse pulling our carriage and the guy took some photos of her. The really strange thing for them, when they have a closer look at the photos, will be the 3 pairs of legs and feet visible in the background of their secret fairground elope.

The Gypsy came over and moved them on, ‘its really not safe for you here’ the really sounding severely intimidating to me, but probably more than it was meant to. I suddenly had visions of him pretending to have not seen us and start the carousel up, turning the speed up more and more until we flew out of the carriage and exploded on the concrete.

But he didn’t. We heard him walk off again and then made our escape back to the tents, laughing like kids all the way.

There is plenty more to this story, particularly parts involving LEA which will be explained later. I need to speak to the Twin tonight and call time on our involvement, the thought of doing which has been occupying my head for 2 days and is making me feel sick. I am a coward.

The week that was

Sunday was the Plymouth Olympic distance Triathlon. I did a new pb of 23 mins for the swim, which A's had bettered by only 4 seconds, though i didn't know this until i got to transition and he was still there, putting on his cycling shoes. Its amazing how much faster a wetsuit makes you swimming; 3, maybe even 4 minutes over 1500m compared to the pool. The bike was one hill after another so felt like I was only ever either flying down, or struggling up a gradient, and didn’t ever really settle onto my tribars and power out some speed. I caught up A’s at 18km and had a brief ‘Hey’ ‘Hows it going’ as I went past. The run was fine for about 3k, but then I began to feel the early onset of cramp in my quads after going up ‘Murder’ hill. This seemed to clear on the flat, then flare up again on any up hill sections, though it never stopped me completely. Mind games I think. I crossed the line in the sunshine some 11 minutes quicker than my time last year. I really feel that I'm making progress and I think if I train hard this year I could make it into the top 20 next year. Great day.

Monday, one day later than Craig David, I chilled.

Tuesday I had my MOT. Everything on the exhaust seems to have become completely knackered. They managed to weld the manifold, but I needed several new hose bits and a new catalytic converter, not because it was knackered itself, but the pipe next it was corroded beyond a weld-repair. With a few other bits and bobs and the labour it was £580. I debated whether or not it was worth paying this out, but my dad convinced me it was. I wasn’t so sure, but went with his judgement. I'm going to save £200 a month this year and buy a new car next year. At least that’s the plan. In the evening I went fishing and finally caught some fish - 4 mackerel to be precise and I eat them for dinner. I caught one on a pink sand eel lure, and then 3 on some feathers.

Wednesday night I went surfing after work with two friends from work. It was predicted as 3-4 stars on Magic Seaweed, but the blue sky and sunshine had larger stakes in my decision to go. We went to Polzeath, which is probably the nearest north coast break, and it was really clean surf, if a little busy. I got out after about 90 minutes and had a look around the rock pools while I waited for the others to get out.

Thursday night the housemates and I discovered yet another reason why the flat by the sea is the best in Plymouth. We have joined the local Tennis club, which cost the mind bogglingly pitiful sum of £15 for the year. The tennis court is grass, but a little bit rubbish, but out behind the court there is a bowling green, another big grass area and a BBQ. It overlooks the sea and is absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t believe there was no one there, and the groundsman later told me that it rarely got used, which seems ridiculous. It’s like having a massive garden for £15 a year.

Friday night (tonight) I'm off back to Bris for a BBQ with friends before we head out on a canoeing trip. We get driven upriver by the canoe company, paddle/float our way down river then camp for the night and then carry on the next day before getting picked up and driven back. Sounds simply wonderful to me.

Bird, Hand, Bush, etc

I sprint through the car park rain and then laugh with the reception girl about how heavy the downpour has been. I scan the room and see the familiar faces are at the bar. On my way over I notice that everyone is wearing a suit and am glad I decided to dust off the Vietnamese silk and do the same. My friends see me coming and wait, expectantly. The recognition of their faces washes a recollection of my previous life over my senses. I get memories of previous laughs and achievements, and think back gratefully for fate giving me the chance to become friends with the faces I see before me now. Its fantastic. There are a few handshakes and a few nods, lots of smiles. The conversation begins a little formally but soon slips through the whats and whens of current work and finds its way into a pile of giggles and previous stories. Over the next 9 hours we have canapés, lunch and dinner, all washed down by drinks supplied by the free bar. I laugh so hard my eyes water, we make promises to arrange more meetings over the summer and take turns to talk our way down the paths our lives have taken since we all lived in that city up north.

At 9.30 its time for me to make my goodbyes. I’m sad to leave prematurely, but the group is beginning to fragment and sleep, alcohol, or both, has a strong grip on the remaining members. I drive off into the rain that has not relented all day, but my mind is not yet preparing for sleep. A random set of texts has made my destination a bar in town where LEA is out with some friends and has invited me to pop in to say hi on my way home. This is the first time I’ve seen her without the presence of our mutual friend, which adds an edge of trepidation as I park the car and run through the rain and shrieks of the city. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here, not sure what I want, or expect from this meeting, but my presence here is undeniable. I fear for a moment that the bouncer has not taken a shine to my overdressed attire, but a slight nod beckons me past a group who are in a vocal dispute with the cashier.

LEA is, as always, exceptionally friendly and seems glad to see me. We talk, flirt a bit, occasionally bordering into quite a lot, but my soberness remains in charge. After 2 drinks I say I’ve got to leave and I hug goodbyes to the group. LEA gets her farewell hug, but before I leave she says she is walking me to the door. Now we are on our own with another hug and a kiss on the cheek but the hug remains in place longer than it might. We have a brief conversation about the coming weekends Easter trip and another kiss. This one lands half on lips, half on cheek, and like the hug before it, also lingers for a moment longer than was originally scheduled. In my head I was going for the cheek again, but may have got drawn slightly off course by some gravity-laden eyes. This is dangerous ground. I pull away and pretend I hadn’t just read anything into what had happened.

Now i’m running in the rain for the third time today. I’ve got to get home and sleep before the Bath Half Marathon tomorrow but my mind runs a blur with what I could Vs should have done earlier on. At half midnightish I get a text that I expect to be from LEA, but turns out to be from the Twin saying shes drunk and is wishing me luck for the race.

Decisions.