Love thyself?

We've all heard this late 20th century cliche - you have to love yourself, possibly before you love anybody else, in order to be happy.

Now how do you do that exactly? I don't want to start on one of my lectures on the meaning of words like "love" and "hate" (TL;DR: they don't have a single coherent meaning). Basically, with many words, you look at the various way the words are being used and figure out what they're referring to in each case. If we look at a  few uses of "love":

- "I love my wife" means  I have  a unique bond that comes from having been in love, years of shared experience & goals, knowing each other better than anyone else does, and lots of sex...and a few other things...this is a different bond from:

 - "I love my friend". Meaning that I enjoy their company, have fun with them, may have known them for years etc, but the feelings involved are significantly different from those for the person I've shared a bed with for 20 years

- "I love Salt and Pepper fish from my favourite Chinese restaurant" - I get intense pleasure from putting that food in my mouth, I get an explosion of endorphins from so doing that.. almost.. rivals the pleasure the person in the first example has given me in many of our nights together. Obviously the dead fish doesn't give me support in the other ways she does. I hope that's obvious

So which of these ways can one be said to "love oneself"? Well you can't give yourself the support, fun & affection that wife and friends do, or you wouldn't need them. And one can't enjoy oneself in the way one enjoys a curry/pasta dish etc - not really. Or at least I don't think that's what the pretty young things on Instagram mean when they repeat this hashtag...

In actual fact I don't think I love myself at all, especially when I'm happy. In those times - fortunately they are frequent - I would rather say that I love my life. Matt Walsh jokingly says* on his show that he hates himself, but he seems happy enough, after a fashion.

So what do people mean by the phrase? I'd hazard a guess that they really mean "look after yourself", maybe? Or "stop internalising other people's criticisms of you, real and imagined". Instead one should internalise the uniformly positive things some people might say about you. Does that sound right? It is at least a little bit more specific & therefore meaningful.

I'd further assert that this is something only women would say - it means very little, emotionally, for a very masculine person (am I allowed to say this any more?). So I can only guess at what they're going on about. It's another indicator of the emotional & intellectual differences between men and women

Though I wonder if actually loving others & loving one's life would indeed be more satisfying to these folks than thinking about themselves at all. Letting go of one's ego & cravings being a good rule of thumb...which I've nicked from the Buddhists. But what do I know?

* if you can find it, among the 2000+ videos he's made

That old "posh" British accent - why did we laugh at it?

When I was at university, I used to laugh with my friends at the Monty Python sketches ridiculing posh English accents and the army officers that used them. This was in the very early 90s. The Monty Python sketches were getting really old themselves, and the accents we were laughing at were fast dying out. 

One of my reasons for joining in this humour was less honourable. Being young I hankered after friendship. When I got to university I found a lot of my fellow students going in a political direction I knew I couldn't follow. Today we'd call it the "progressive" Left. But I found that when I played Graham Chapman's sergeant major character, some of those friends laughed very loud*. I didn't share the political bent that made them laugh at some things rather than others - but social pressure encouraged me to laugh at that parody

How we laughed at the posh-speaking army officers. Except that those officers were the ones that were actually in charge of one of the best militaries in the world, widely respected.

I've been thinking about this again when I watched a documentary about Britain's campaign in the Falklands. It is their sort who ran half the world. They were not much like today's breed of Englishmen: who all seem to hate each other, who are negative about themselves, everyone around them, the future, our past...negative about everything, really, which they seem to think is a badge of honour

* my student friends even seemed political at what they'd laugh at. Maybe that's true of some of the things those of us on the centre-right laugh at. But I do think that "progressives" took the phrase "the personal is the political" excessively seriously. A huge number of them were obsessive about their politics. It was hard to talk to them about any subject without them relating it to the struggle against the Tories. This cultist frame of mind is incredibly inimical to the imaginative life

Many cyclists are aggressive nutcases

Off the top of my head, I've seen:

- a female cyclist going down a hill with her hands in her pockets,
- male teenage cyclists boasting about cycling all the way home from school hands-in-pockets
- cyclists screaming incoherently at pedestrians trying to cross the road.
- cyclists going blind round corners at 20mph where pedestrians are trying to cross
- a male cyclist (with daughter) setting a great example by telling a ped to F... off when remonstrated with over dangerous cycling
- countless examples of cyclists nearly colliding with people who were getting off a bus
- several seriously injured cyclists, one died in front of me, I think
- cyclists going through red lights on ped crossings, over and over and over again
- cyclists wandering off cycle paths onto ped section, nearly hitting pushchairs (several times), on one occasion, the cyclist made a sarcastic remark to the parent who mildly objected to his baby's safety being compromised just so a cyclist could get home quicker
- cyclists trying to collide with pedestrians who they feel shouldn't be on the road
- a lycra-clad cyclist kicking an old man for some reason in London
- a cyclist not stopping at the end of a cycle-path, and nearly hitting my pregnant partner who was getting off a bus
- cyclist after cyclist after cyclist disobeying the law in the city centre forbidding cycling in day-time. Every day I see multiple examples.
- cyclists riding on pavement (including downhill) when they had no right to do so.

Yet how they indignantly moan if you point any of this out!

Cyclists in the UK think they are above the law, they are often aggressive if told how badly they are cycling. They are completely unreasonable. I'm amazed at how readily they blame motorists for accidents, when cyclists so casually take risks with their own lives (and those of anyone around them). They disregard the law, and blame everyone else.

Just as motorbikes (and to some extent cars) do, cycles seem to bring out the low-IQ caveman warrior in people.

Tony and Toni

My town has it's own bus company, that hasn't been subject (yet) to a takeover by one of the bigger operators. That's probably quite something in this day and age. A fellow I know called Tony worked there for most of his life.

I hadn't seen him for a while but he came to chat today as I busked - this is one of the reasons why I so love what I do,  surely one of the most pleasantly sociable jobs in the world. He'd worked with that same company for for 42 years - 42 years - most or maybe all of his working life. People used to do this sort of thing. He perhaps went to work there as a boy of 18 - maybe 16. Was his first job to make people tea, and endure the jokes of the older drivers? He himself was a driver for a while.

He was promoted, a step at a time, and worked in all areas. As a manager he seemed keen to muck in when someone was ill, or something needed doing. Once we phoned the company for news about one service and it was he who answered the phone "Yes" he said "we're running a service, if you can call it that"  Nowadays, we live in an age of cover-my-ass experts, but he was so gloriously tactless - saying things that noone would ever dare to say now. I like to think that the reason he got away with it was because he was what people are pleased to call a 'character'. Whenever I saw him there was always something going on around him - usually laughter.

I was rather pleased today, when he came to chat. "42 years" he said as he turned away, "so many memories" I watched him go, and wondered about this. I've never been able to stand even 10 years in one job. When I did I saw the depths of human small-mindedness. We were all so bored - yet here was a man who made the best of his work with one company for all those years.

As I watched him walk down the street with his wife, I wondered why more people couldn't be like Tony. But then I guess if they were, he wouldn't have been so special.

-----------------------

I tend to have coffee in town several times a week - sometimes as much to warm up as anything else. It's always a small latte and it's always in the same coffee shop, where Toni works. She's occasionally made my coffee for a few years now. She's pretty, of Italian ancestry (but speaks with no accent), and unfailingly friendly and kind.

I don't know about you, but that she stays so polite every day seemed like an achievement worthy of note to me.

Toni is leaving her place of employ tomorrow. I bought her some flowers - something I rarely do - with a note inside. I didn't tell her, in it, how much her kindness has meant to me. It wouldn't do, I think, to tell her how much I love her, and how I'll miss her.

I don't know what sort of love it is. At my age, perhaps one ought to. But there it is, and she's leaving. How I am going to find another person like this, I do not know. It's a feeling I'm accustomed to. Some people leave a big hole when they move on. I hope I see her again. Soon.

Jobspeak. Or "Every day I dream the same dream"

Just reading the online portfolios of what I suppose I should call the competition, ie: other Web-developers.

Ye Gods but they talk some nonsense. If I ever publish anything talking about my "proven track record" in "providing robust solutions" etcetc I think it would be a good idea for somebody to call the cops.

And all this stuff about being a "people person", "a good team player", who is also good at working on their own, just to cover all bases. I am sensitive, but don't take things personally, thoughtful and constructive, but not bossy. I tell good jokes and will be good for office morale, whilst most of the time exuding such . By God, I seem to miraculously fit that professional-shaped hole in your organisation, without quite falling into the cringing-dogsbody category.

There are all these people about, purporting to fit the description above. How can I compete with these tail-wagging, performing poodles?

I'd forgotten how bad this all was. The unimaginative posturing of these morons! Myself I just like to turn up and say "gissa job". Surely that would be simpler?

I shouldn't laugh. If I'm not very careful I'll be doing the same myself one day

Ray Bradbury

I think I was 11 years old when some clever soul sent two books wrapped up as Christmas presents through the post. I can't remember who it was who sent these two books, and I had to wait, as usual, until the evening of December 24th - when my family conducted its annual festive ceremony - before I could see what they were

They were a red book and a yellow book of the same size. The stories of Ray Bradbury volumes 1 and 2. My mother was far from impressed with this present - shaking her head portentously, thinking I'd be frightened by the stories. The present-giver had known better.

Seeing one of my more precocious friends reading things like 1984 had instilled in me the desire to read, and to hopefully somehow become 'cleverer' by doing so. But what was I to read? If I were to write a page of advice to my 12 year old self it would certainly contain, in bold letters, the message "read what you enjoy reading, and don't worry too much about the rest. Give it a chance, but if it consistently fails to arouse your interest then leave it"

Reading through those volumes for the first time was one of the periods of inspiration in my life. As the above piece of advice will tell you, I don't think I always followed my nose faithfully enough - too many other things distracted me, and quite often after a period of being interested in a topic, I will get bored - and we're back to square one. But for a while that year I was enthralled.

And when you are that interested as a child, you learn things. You do so as naturally as going to sleep and waking. The next day you are in some sense a new person because your day is lit up with an important piece of understanding that was not there before, and all that you see and hear are linked to this new important fact, so you will remember it for good. It is incorporated into your life.

What I learned I cannot tell you, really. Except that when you read a good writer you get a strong dose of  their personality. And what a personality his was. The preface to those stories was his passionate defence of his creative side. School friends jeered at his stories and comics, till he realised that those were not his friends, but his enemies.

This was eerily close to my own experience - the boys at school laughing at my imaginative life. I was something of a coward, and desperately wanted to fit in. I never could, of course - children are an intolerant bunch. I didn't have his moral courage, but then I never forgot his message in those pages either. The message, and the mesmerising stories stayed with me all my life. I still go back to them from time to time. There really was no other choice over how to live one's life. I clearly can not have the same personality as Bradbury. No one is the same as any other person exactly. But those books helped me find some of mine.

There's not much I can do about it now he is gone. He would want me to turn it to something positive. So I will make his death a spur to remember that lesson every day. I heard the lesson early, I'm still processing it.

This is supposed to not be about me....

...but I've transgressed that rule already. This blog is an unthemed mess, and noone really reads it :)

I seem to be a different person every few weeks, which makes planning for the future a little difficult. Actually it just goes round in circles between 3 or more personalities. It can be very uncomfortable, especially when I go through days, possibly weeks, feeling as though I am emotionally dead. But I know that it all goes in circles, a sine-curve, and sometimes I play music on stage and there's an audible sigh after I've finished before the applause starts, and I feel the way I do (or used to) when a beautiful woman shows unmistakeable strong interest , or more.

For some reason, Born Slippy seems to express this mood quite well, especially the euphoric slow chords between the manic madness.

I hope to be coming out of the malaise soon...

Thoughts on Frank Abagnale, pt 2

Perhaps this post should more properly be entitled "Thoughts on self-improvement, inspired by Frank Abagnale's story"

In my previous post, written after reading "Catch me if you can", I started to think aloud about how to try and develop the skills that made Abagnale so effective as a con-artist and (what I think of as a) social engineer. He displayed an extraordiary chameleon-like ability, also an ease of conversation and using it to get information he needed without arousing suspicion. He also was very observant, and something of a fantasist (or liar, you might call it)

One of the reasons he was so good at being a con-man, at an age when I wouldn't have been able to do anything of the sort, is because of the way he lived his life. He was hugely social, became good at interacting wittily (but on a shallow level) with almost anyone. He turned the problem-solving part of his brain to how he could employ his people skills and intellect to the problem of making enough money for the lifestyle (read respect, trust, and women) he wanted.

When I was in my teens, I had plenty of problem solving ability - I just confined it to Mathematical problems and study, and reading too much philosophy. I thought about everything in a different way, was a hell of a lot more cautious, and less worldly-wise. The way you approach problems, and the attitude with which you face them, are often rather unique to you. A people person will be good at thinking of people-solutions to everything, a logician will try and work everything out from solid principles. An artist will try to imagine the solution.

We all have our own style of thinking, and when we try to approach, for example, a people problem with mathematical formulae, or a legal problem with emotional thinking, then we're at our weakest. Another reason why it is good to learn different approaches to life, and get inside the head of someone who thinks at a tangent to the way we do. So yes, I'm now trying to think with the same initiative and imagination as the young Mr Abagnale, if for more legal ends and means!

 *              *                  *

I'd like to write a lot more on how Abagnale became the man he did. It is well worth looking into, inasmuch as a teenager making fools of airlines and banks worldwide, hospitals and universities is quite simply amazing

How did he do it? You can't explain his 'achievements' by saying it was his remarkable mix of social skills, intellect, and cheek. You have to look at his story. He lived with his father when his parents divorced, and came into contact with perhaps a rather seedy, bar-room society. This made him cagey, streetwise, and perhaps rather unscrupulous too. He discovered girls - and by the sounds of it went almost temporarily insane in his pursuit of them.

It didn't occur to him that a few dollars cleverly stolen from a big company constituted much of a moral wrongdoing, and with the thrill of success, and more women, his schemes became more daring. He conceived the crazy scheme of pretending to be a pilot - he could cash bad cheques all over America/the world that way and not be caught (so he reasoned) - and began to plan a deception of such cheek that people didn't see it for what it was.

Thoughts on Frank Abagnale, pt 1

So I read "Catch me if you can" recently and was totally hooked. Usually after reading a book of this kind I find my thinking very affected by the book and the personality of the writer (though this book is actually ghost written so it's my interepretation of the ghost writer's interpretation of Abagnale's thought processes)

He was such a sharp observer of people around him, seeing what people might be impressed by, and like any confidence trickster probably telling a lot about people very quickly from their gait/body language/voice etc. He also clearly had quite an imagination - if only to dream up these schemes and ways of getting information from people.

I imagine him formulating a new plan quickly, and thinking "I must start talking to that girl/an airline official/or whoever". Almost immediately, a scenario would come to his mind where someone had a quite legitimate query or occasion to start a conversation - and he would become that role, like an improvising actor. Such adrenaline-rush-fuelled skills may also explain his apparent success-rate with women - I'm sure Neil Strauss and the other pick-up artists would be interested in his approach if the haven't studied that sort of thing already. (He is what they would call a "natural", I believe)

He must also be good at approaching a conversation indirectly, mentioning a topic so the other person starts talking about it, and all of a sudden they are discussing exactly the kind of thing he wants to know about. Sometimes he will tease someone ("no way have you got an A-grade average...I need to see proof!") and that's a pretty well known technique I guess.

These are not skills I've been displaying in abundance in the last year or two of my life ;) Neither is the initiative that all that (in his case misdirected) industry takes. So now I'm setting myself exercises using time on the bus as body-language reading time (there is plenty of raw material, plenty of bodys, all speaking loudly!). It's also worth working on the improvisation-like skills I've mentioned. Anything you could be better at...

This is part of a self-improvement streak that I have to own up to. I've mentioned Neil Strauss above - one thing he has said is to do with working on "inner-game" ( perhaps another word for a kind of confidence), posture, and appearance. He said something in a seminar, along the lines of:

"You guys have no idea how hard I worked on this stuff, drilling it into myself every day"

And I do wonder what the best study/improvement method is, given that time is limited. Really I want to learn new ways of thinking, and 10 minutes of practice every day is really not good enough. And knowing me I'm in danger of my enthusiasm waning after a short while.

Sometimes there's good news

So from time to time we go on holiday to Wales - often to the same place. Why to the same place, given that I'm a restless sort? Simply because the owners of the B&B and cottages are some of the nicest people I have ever met. We first stayed there 4 years ago when I was going through a stressful time at work. In a few days the holiday turned my mood around. One time, I overheard them talking about us. Usually you don't want that to happen, don't want to hear what other people say about you - but these people seemed to like us as much as we liked them. They gave me the best example I've ever seen of how family life should be - just happy and unworried.

They spoke so calmly - the hostess had a lovely smile and I must admit I was very charmed by her - but the husband too is an unusually happy, positive soul, and wonderful company. We talked about the walks round the area and took their dog on her favourite walk. She charged up and down steep, icy hills and we feared we might lose our host's dog for them but she always reappeared, ready for more mad dashes up and down the hills..

We didn't stay with them this time - but we were passing, so paid this family a visit. Their kindness goes far beyond that of someone trying to keep their guests on-side. Children from around the town came to visit and play on the trampoline. S and I drove back through the road with the most beautiful views I know - alone for miles and miles but for a few sheep and some deserted-looking former pubs - with a man in fatigues wondering between them (the area is used by the military). One of Norah Jones' lovelier albums added to the inner calm I felt. The sun shone over that landscape. My self-worth - whatever that really means - had returned, though I hadn't realised its absence.

It was a wonderful day. Every time I see our friends, I'm reminded how things should be, and how I ought to live. Too much of my life my day-to-day moments seem to have been plagued with nagging worry and discontent - I can still feel that old tension in my shoulders now. But happiness seems such an obvious thing in those Welsh hills. I guess I need that fresh air to breathe. I need to always remember that place inside me.

Elisabeth Sladen

I was pretty happy earlier today. A beautiful day all round. Now I'm just watching the Twitter feed as the news of Elisabeth Sladen's death seems to be the main news of the night. I'm listening to Tori Amos' "Winter" ( a video of a live performance on YT) and crying surprising floods of tears.

As well as starring in my favourite boyhood TV show, she appeared to be an utterly delightful, charming person. The perfect companion...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuyeesj-1OA

Inventors

I was going to be rude about Laurie Penny and 98% of all journos, but I want to instead focus on Radio 4 and the hard time I often give them, and say some nice things about them for a change.

I won't go as far as to call the channel a "national treasure" as I believe they recently called themselves rather self-congratulatingly. My problems with the channel stem from the preponderance of the following programs

• "Today"
• PM at bloody 5pm (all the news coverage really: every hour, on the hour, and full of the sweet and smelly stuff)
• Woman's Hour (sorry but I can't listen to any more of Jenni Murray or any of her guests*)
• "Thinking allowed" (ffs)
• one or two others

But I have to sing the praises of some of the drama they present: A superb radio adaptation of I Claudius - rivalling the 1976 TV version starring Derek Jacobi, it really was that good - many of the things that end up on Radio 7, the Professor Challenger stories now being aired, and this wonderful program on unsung Inventors called "Genius Unrecognised"

Beautiful stuff :) have a listen!

* there was a good program a year or two back with the mandolin player Alison Stephens (who has since sadly died). Which was so good I was tempted to start listening a few more times, arrghh.

BBC Radio 7 >> BBC Radio 4 Extra

I'm rather worried about the pending image-change for my favourite radio station in the UK.  BBC Radio 7 is full of the most marvellous drama and readings. The comedy I personally find boring most of the time, but here's just a small sample of the programmes that I've enjoyed, off the top of my head:

The "Falco" stories dramatised with Anton Lesser in the main role, superb!
"The tenderness of Wolves" an adaptation of a recent novel,
"Professor Challenger" stories by Conan Doyle,
A selection of Somerset Maugham's stories,
"Doctor Finlay's black bag",
A life of Colonel Toosey (WW2 general portrayed in Bridge over the river Kwai)
The rather confusing, but very entertaining Paul Temple mysteries
A reading of Ian Fleming's "Casino Royale",
the Father Baldi stories,
A dramatisation of "Fatherland" by Robert Harris.

I could go on and on. These programmes (and others) kept me sane during 2 very stressful stays in hospital. I'm hoping the high quality content will continue but the name change - if it's necessary at all - is rather ominous. BBC Radio 4 comes across as way too opinionated politically and rather too keen on "educating" us.*


* In our time does manage to educate very well, as does More or less. Other programmes suffer from the editorial slant of those in charge of R4

Sad days

One of the dearest friends of my life died a couple of weeks ago. She was 90, she was losing touch with the real world, her "quality of life" was atrocious with the pain of cancer, incontinence, depression, and the possible onset of dementia. In some ways her time had come and it was a relief that she was released. When I heard the news I was absolutely full of a bad head-cold. I'd been expecting the news for a while, and I felt a sort of numb sadness, but at the time (as since) I felt little else, though this counts as a major bereavement.

The lady in question looked after me daytimes from when I was 2 yrs old. I stayed in touch all my life. Her husband died in 1995, and she complained how much she missed him ever since. Our visits to her became more and more to be sad occasions, with her suppressing a tear at our leaving, and a long sad walk for us back home.

I wondered from quite an early age how sad it would be to lose her. Sitting at the top of a double-decker bus after saying goodbyes, I felt the lump in my throat one day as I realised there would one day be a time when she was gone. It was unusual for the 7/8 year old me to be moved by that sort of emotion, but it did happen from time to time. I phoned her on the anniversary of her husbands death one time - I was on a lonely, beautiful hill in the Lakes - and she rang off with "Love you" as she often did, and afterwards I cried on a bench in the middle of nowhere.

These past few years were slightly under the shadow of this inevitability, wondering how I would take it. And here I am taking it with a little sadness, but perhaps not facing up to my grief. I surprised myself - wondering if I'm somehow now completely numb. I suppose it will slowly come out. I want to write down my memories of my friend. (what I'm saying now seems so flat!) So I'll make a brief start in this entry.

Here was someone who loved children all her life, and they loved her back for it. She would "fall in love" with some of the children she looked after. Her house was often full of grandchildren, children she was nannying, or had nannied (?). It became a sort of social gathering place for quite a few of us. She'd want us to keep ourselves occupied quietly and sometimes we managed to, but not always - causing her some little stress. It was a strange set-up. But she and I remained on good terms for life.

She said I was like a "second son" to her. There was a way she had, of letting you know things - as a way of telling you you were one of the people she wanted to hear things - a kind of recognition of the place you had in her thoughts. I believed I had a special bond with her. Now, in a way, I like to imagine that she had such a bond with many others, just so her life would have been that much the richer for it. We hardly ever saw anyone on our later visits to her. How could someone of such experience, love and dignity seem to be so alone in her last years? I suppose I will never know the answer to this.

Weekend awakening old memories

Saw my father this weekend. The way he talks about his (academic) interests makes me wonder why I haven't been spending all my time studying the same things it's just so fascinating. We ate expensively, enjoyed some tea. He put us up for the night as we couldn't get home, then on Sunday morning we walked with him through town - he is rather unsteady with his walking stick and the snow has frozen. Every time I see him I sadly wonder if it's the last time.

When I was young he was a rather different sort of creature. As if every little inconvenience and imagined slight were the last straw in a world of distractions pressing in on his life, tipping him into fury. Al this nonsense happening to me!!! A very difficult, not seemingly happy man, the side his kids saw of him, though by all accounts he led a pretty full life in those days, if you see what I mean.

Yet watch the family together all his (5) children will be competing to try and show off how clever they are in front of him (I mean they do anyway but all the more so if he's there). I try not to do that, but sometimes I probably show off a bit. It happens when your shared preferences in conversation are to do with learning and discovery. Complex people :)

Prelude

Just as the title says - if I descend into self examination then sue me for mis-representation