Category Archives: Uncategorized

Doing away with the past

These blog posts are getting father and farther apart, and there’s clearly been no improvement (or reversion) here on WordPress, as I still have to use an awkward workaround to even have the “classic” toolbar visible while I write this… but I’ll be talking today about saying goodbye to old things, something I very likely will do with this blog by the end of this year, as I once vowed to do if I finally found someone (though I can’t find it here, and searching through old posts is difficult anyway with the current interface).

All the years I’ve been clinging on to possessions, or simply leaving them out of sight and out of mind, seem to be coming to an end: I helped my mother dispose of a lot of relics from our flat in Worthing, including my old school and university notes, folders of ancient Transformers comics (hole-punched and thus worthless anyway), and even the Lego I grew up with, which meant a certain cathartic moment when I demolished a large tank I’d built for action figures in the early 1990s.  We’ve disposed of other old furniture (including an exercise bike we’ve had for at least two house moves) and household goods (LPs and Christmas trees), and replaced appliances in the kitchen with newer models (though the size of the new fridge meant destructive work had to be done on the surrounding pannelling).

Hopefully we can clear out enough that selling the place and moving on will be easier when the time comes… when my grandmother finally leaves this world peacefully, and no longer needs care.  However, the sad irony is that she’s been the source of income for our household for the past few years: her pension (and that of her husband), combined with the carer’s allowance paid to my mother — and the former will end with her death, while the latter is already suspended due to her being in hospital as her condition worsens.  My mother can’t officially retire for another couple of years, which means she’ll have to find work of her own — but unless she’s lucky to work from home, who’ll look after the dog during the day?

I’ll be back homeworking again soon (though getting assessed by an occupational therapist took patience), a mere six months after entering surgery, and they’ll be happy for me to be back (they say) — but if possible, I’ll be moving back to Worthing just so I can contribute to the household there, and more importantly, leave this rented place in Finchley behind forever.  I’ve lived here for nearly TEN YEARS, longer than literally any other house in my life (the longest time I spent physically living in the Worthing flat was the three academic years 2000-2003, between my undergrad and postgrad days), and I’ve had enough.

Commuting from our Worthing home to Oxford Circus would be horrendous (worse than the 90-minute each-way commute I had to endure for that unpaid 6-week internship in 2014), so I’d be happy to continue homeworking; however, moving to Haywards Heath would be ideal, as I could commute much more easily if my workplace needed me onsite, and there’s also a local neurology hospital which I’ll almost certainly need in the future (I’m awaiting information about my most recent MRI scan, but hopefully this time no news is good news).  The price we’d get for the flat should certainly cover the deposit for a two-bedroom house there, and assuming all goes well with my IT career (and ageism is overcome), I should be able to pay the rest through a mortgage.

There are two new things in my life which I’ve implied above, and certainly want to keep.  I no longer have to think about Scraps, the dog I grew up with, thanks to Lola, the dog we rescued in late 2019 (and who misses me when I’m not there); and I no longer have to remember the girl I very briefly dated in Michigan in 1998, or any of the other women I got nowhere with over the intervening years, because although we’re currently separated by thousands of miles, I know I’ve found that special someone at university (a mere 20 years after graduating!), and we have every hope of being together here once the lockdown ends.

That’d be lovely if things worked out, wouldn’t it?  The four of us living in a house rather than a flat, closer to London but in an affordable area, leaving behind dismal Worthing forever… my mother and the dog, of course, would be like Frasier’s father and Eddie, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.  I’ll miss my personal trainer, though since he’s been torturing me via Zoom for over a year now, maybe we’ll continue on that basis and not worry about me attending his gym (or the Castle Climbing Centre, which would take longer to get to and from than it does here).

Moving away from this old house would mean I have to sort out household bills, which is an ordeal in itself that I’ll go into another time, but suffice to say, E.ON still suck, and Affinity won’t take old names off our water bills unless we get their written permission — which is also the situation with TV Licensing, unless either our landlady can sort them out, or we can get our late landlord to give his approval via ouija board!

I’m not in a terrified rush like in late 2014, when it looked like my IT career was over before it had even begun, and I was desperately giving away as much as I could to charity to save bringing too much back to Worthing.  I’m still donating these days, but we’re talking more along the lines of collared shirts I haven’t needed to wear since 2015, and DVD movies I’ve replaced with Blu-rays!  I’m also gathering things to take to the dump (such as old electronics, a broken plastic shelf set, and ancient pairs of worn-out slippers), though I’ll need “best mate’s” help for that, when we can book a slot.

But no way am I donating my many music CDs, 24 DVDs or Judge Dredd collected comics to charity — they come with me wherever I go!  As does this ever-upgraded übercomputer, of course…

Confession time

Right, as we enter the second quarter of the year, and indeed a new financial year, I think it’s time for me to be honest with you guys.  You’ve been loyal to me since I started this blog, and you’ve earned my respect, so I’m going to admit the truth:

I don’t actually like Gwar — I’ve just been pretending to be a “bohab” in order to be ironic.

They’re not dogs, they’re just scum!

Come on now, don’t tell me you guys were taken in by my constant prattlings about a fifth-rate thrash metal band who feel the need to dress up in funny costumes and say swearwords on stage while spraying their audiences with fake bodily fluids in order to be famous?  Utter juvenile nonsense, and the fact that they’re still going after more than 25 years proves that American society has utterly lost it.  Ironically, they were right with the title of their second album (or was it the third?  Who cares) — America must be destroyed, it’s the only thing that can save its people from a mind-numbing idiocracy!

 

In fact, I’ve given up all hope of ever going to America to live; Britain, which is far more sensible and mature, is the country where I wish to spend my remaining days.  I’ve done a lot of growing up recently, and it’s time for me to put away childish things and focus on being an adult; this means doing away with all my video games, Doctor Who DVDs, books about science fiction and fantasy (I mean really, fiction is bad enough, but who reads stories that can’t possibly happen?!) and my entire music collection.

Yes, it’s time for me to grow up and stop listening to such puerile nonsense.  Eminem?  He’s not a musician, he just talks with music in the background, and the same goes for all those other “rappers”!  Classical music?  That’s so passé, and harks back to primitive times — and reminds me of Morecambe & Wise, who were so utterly unfunny.  The Bee Gees?  Now really, why would I like a band that other people don’t like?  King Missile?  Why would I like a band that other people haven’t heard of?  Who am I to go against public opinion?!

Music, like fiction, is for stupid, crass quasi-intellectuals; the news report should be enough for truly mature adults!  Never mind mere fancy, all I want is Facts!

Exercise?  That’s for little children playing football in the park — I have no need of getting “buff”, because aside from what’s on the inside being what’s important (and I shall soon be a respectable, mature individual without all the foolish naivety that has held me back all these years), I’m no longer interested in attracting women.  Why should I put som much emphasis on a simple biological function?  A true adult looks beyond ephemeral things like physical appearance and “personality”, whatever that even means.  As long as she cooks sufficiently bland food and keeps the house relatively tidy, it makes no difference what we have in common, or even if we interact beyond the bare minimum — an arranged marriage would suffice!

And, finally, I’ve grown up at work and accepted that I don’t want to move on from children’s social services — in fact, rather than take redundancy and go on some fool’s errand to find a job in IT that might not even exist, I’m willingly accepting a demotion to a lower scale, and focusing on tedious archive work — never mind all those reports I used to do! And I’ve even volunteered to work with that nice lady I used to call “annoying”, and perhaps will even have the chance to sit next to her and bask in her cheerful wisdom every day.

And if I still get made redundant, well, no problem, I’ll go back to live with my mother in Worthing — why should I be socialising in London, or exercising in the hope of attracting women, when I can sit at home collecting stamps, doing the gardening, and wondering how far into this post you got before remembering what the date is…?

(Yes, I was lying from the moment I said I respected you guys!)

Site update

I couldn’t leave you all hanging — I’m still here, don’t worry.  Should have been in bed an hour since, so I’ll be brief.  I’m probably going to change things around on this blog over the coming days, including the look (after seeing my friend Vicky’s blog at Blogspot, I find myself wishing I’d gone there instead), and I may have to delete an old post in order to stop American people coming to this site purely to research “puking pumpkins” (I really wish I hadn’t used that picture now) rather than bipolar disorder or Brit-humour!

At least I’m getting hits from actual people now, though that’s largely due to my final post on Facebook (I’ll also probably be posting something self-criticising about my tendency to grab attention with such silly dramas at some point, possibly with a list and something approaching an apology).  And yes, I’ll post some “videos wot have cheered me up” and “cool stuff” too, and possibly even say why I can’t stand someone at my workplace (don’t anyone say who I work for in the comments or I’m for the chop!), thereby making myself look like a complete grouch with a permanent “case of the Mondays” (ah, Office Space, it should be compulsory viewing for anyone in a managerial position).

Yes, all this and less coming soon on “Dave-ros Lives!”, the blog everyone’s talking about (until I walk into the room, whereupon they stop talking and look guilty)!

Bienvenue, wilkommen, irasshaimase

Inspired by the help I’m lending to a local anti-council corruption campaign’s blog, I’ve decided to set up my own blog (about ten years after everyone else in the entire world) to chronicle my attempts to sort my life out and get my head together, as I approach 35.  However, this post is just a test, so don’t pay it too much heed, and the look and feel will be changing rapidly!