I think it is time I started blogging properly.
I sold my English House, and put all my furniture in storage, and bought a flat in Brighton but then lost the flat in Brighton due to being Gazumped. Then I left my job and all my colleagues were all very nice about it. Then I went to Germany to celebrate my fiance’s birthday. And I met Dana’s new boyfriend. And Ilka and I went to where we are going to get married to test-drive the experience for everybody. And Cian had a birthday in that time. And Vicky went off to venazuala (or similar) and Mexico. And I was ‘diagnosed with RSI and Tennis Elbow which means it’s painful to type and pick things up with my left hand and do just about anything with it.
So then I found I had to move out of my house and that was all very hectic. Not really as exciting or stressful, or emotional or anything that everybody thought it would be for me. It was just eventful with everything happening exponentially fast towards the end.
So I spend a couple of days with friends and this week I moved to france. It’s the only house I’ve got and that I own rather than a bank.
For the move I did things the Richard way and went for a comprimise between ease & expense versus hassle and budget. I think I did rather well and managed to balance a line between the two. Of course I’m not likely to be too hassled at the moment ‘cos I’ve got no time pressures and that dose help a lot. It meant that I didn’t have to get anywhere at any particulat time and that meant that when I got tired with a van load of stuff half way down to french house I just stopped and booked myslefinto a motel for the night. Van-load of semi-valuables in the notel car park that I didn’t give a shit if anybody nicked because …. well I don’t know … I just don’t care now so long as I’ve got my computer & wallet & passport on me, they are the things that would be awkward to loose.
Of course, the health and sanity and goodwill of me and my girlfriend are the most important things in the world to me at the moment. Without that I wouldn’t be able to cope. She gives me all my strength at the moment. I don’t know if she knows that but she does. I want to write reams and reams of things that I’ve promisd myself I would write about me and about her and about my life and about everything we are doing and all the opportunities that could open up and about all the thousands of options that I’ve got in my life as it stands at moment and about all the things we could do etc etc etc, but there just aren’t the minutes in the day for a decent diary entry. Suffice to say, that we’ve got a thousand things that we want to do together, and I’ve got to get on and do them rather than type into a bloody computer to an unknown and invisible audience.
Today was tiring enough, having arrived at the house and found rat and mouse poo everywhere. And dust and dirt and stale smelling bedding and damage from weather and nature, and woodworm and flies and slugs and stupidly long grass and just about every bloody difficulty you could imagine from making this my home for the next 3 months or more. So I spend 7 hours and 7 minutes cleaning it up and then I could just about bring myself to sleep here for tonight. I’ll have to do more work tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that ad infinitim.
It’s like all my projects that I’ve got at the moment. I haven’t a clue which ones will really move forward and which ones will fail and/or look pathetic in the cold light of a bank manager or whoever doing the scrutenising.
I had a really vivid dream last night. It was one of those dreams that would seem to make a really good book or film, and I was so sleepless that I actually managed to write it down before drifting back off to sleep. Well I haven’t been sleeping very well this last week in any case, what with being in different bed/country/mind-set every night. I’ve been to My mums and Martin’s and Roly’s, and Ilka’s and a camp site in Germany and a Motel in France and my bed in England and then the floor of my bedroom in England…… …. I haven’t slept around so much since I was with Jenny … ha ha! When there’s so much gong on, and I wake-up in the middle of the night I haven’t got a hope in hell of geting back to sleep with so much going on in my brain.
Anyway, today I want to write a book based on the dream I had. It’s a great story, but I don’t know if I can be arsed to write a book. I tried once before remember. That took 6 years and nothing came of it. Perhaps that was just my pratice period! So if I can’t be arsed to write a book … oh yes talent might get in the way, … but couldn’t I farm out the idea to someone instead? If only writing came easily to me then I could knock it off within a couple of months.
But the next couple of months are going to be quite packed enough as it is. I’ve got a van to unload – which is packed to the gunnals (whatever they are), and then a house to make habitable, and then a thousand french things to do and then a few hundred German things and then …. if time permits …. a few English things before retiring for Autumn.
Maybe I’ll find a way of earning a living in the meantime. Oh yeah … lots of idea there as usual. Only now I’ve kind of GOT to go and try them aout ‘cos I haven’t got any other form of income to support me …. other than Ilka of couse .. and savings .. and money from the house ….. and shares …… In fact as I stand at the moment I’m probably the richest I’ve ever been. I’ve got enough money to live humbly for 15 or 20 years. But I know that I would fritter it away in less than 10. And then it would be harderto start again, so I know I’ve got to find a path that is practical and worthwhile and rewarding and .. hopefully … profitable for me in the mid-to-long term. Then I will fell truly fulfiled and happy and a rounded invidvidual. SOunds impossibke doesn’t it? But with an Ilka behind me it all seems a realisble dream. She’s very inspiring .. everybody needs an Ilka you know.
I only wish she were here . . . . . . . . . .
