Saturday, 21 May 2016

Ache and heartache

This time three years ago, I was languishing in a hospital ward in Surrey having comprehensively lost a battle with whichever bugs cause pneumonia. That potentially life-threatening experience certainly raised my awareness as regards my health, but whether it's tipped the balance too far in the opposite direction, towards hypochondria, is something I haven't resolved yet. Today has provided a good example, as I've spent a good deal of time worrying about an ache - it certainly hasn't been serious enough to warrant using the word 'pain' - in my chest, of a pulmonary rather than cardiac nature. The fact that it's on the right hand side, where the bugs did most of their damage, does make me wonder if there's a connection, but, on the other hand, I don't feel ill as such, suggesting that I might be tending towards melodrama. All I can do, I guess, is to carry on as normal while 'monitoring' my condition, and head to the doctor's if there's any evidence of a deterioration.
No doubt, though, about the heartache - as I arrived at 'worktown' station after the end of my shift this evening, I almost literally fell over an exquisitely beautiful boy of 8 or 9, another unattainable 'ghost'. There was another level of piquancy in this case, though, because of his more than passing resemblance to a picture I saw a few days ago of another, slightly older boy, in a decidedly less salubrious place. Life imitating life, or something like that.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Wednesday, 18 May 2016

Ignorance

I've been 'treated', in the 'open till midnight' Wetherspoons I've stopped off at on my way home from a late shift at work, to one of the most egregious displays of ignorance I've had the misfortune to experience in quite some time. A sixty-something bloke has been opining, at inescapable volume, about everything from football to American politics to transgender people - and has been completely wrong in pretty much all of it. Anyone can be mistaken, but don't abuse the the privilege, please.

2355 edit: He's just said something I agree with, namely that none of the English qualifiers for next year's Champions League have a hope of winning the competition. But I still wish he had a volume control.  That I was in charge of!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tuesday, 17 May 2016

90

That's how old my dad would've been today, had he lived. Would he have wanted to be around at that age? I really have no idea. I know I certainly wouldn't want to be, given the inevitable ravages of the aging process - both my hiccuping heart and my terminally screwed-up ankle have been playing up today, and that's before beginning to consider my greatest fear, namely losing my mental faculties to dementia or similar. I would like to live long enough to have a few years of relatively healthy retirement, something Dad was denied, dying, as he did, less than a year after after the end of his working life, but whether that's likely is, frankly, doubtful.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Monday, 16 May 2016

No fun, and close to tears

Little more than four hours after I published the previous post, on Saturday evening, one of the main reasons why my life is so difficult asserted itself. Right at the beginning of my shift at work that night, conversation turned to a 'fly on the wall' TV series, apparently focusing on some UK police force, a recent episode of which featured the activities of a vigilante-ish group who have entrapped a number of 'paedophiles' through online chatrooms. Needless to say, all present but me were resoundingly in favour of such an outcome (I wasn't, of course, remotely stupid enough to voice my views on the subject), but the fact that the two colleagues of the group I most regularly work with who are the closest I have to 'friends' at work were among the most fervent 'antis' was depressing almost to the point of tears. They not only don't understand - no-one who isn't 'on the inside' ever can - they don't want to understand, the kneejerk, unthinking received opinion is vastly simpler, and, of course, keeps them aligned with the overwhelming majority of 'society'.
And more frustration today, on a different but roughly parallel track, a goodly number of touristy and school trip cuties out and about in town, so close and yet so out of reach, as always. The most notable was in Oxford Street, an utterly beautiful boy of 12 or so who 'ghosted' in and out of my life in half a dozen heart-melting seconds. Would that, just once, I could connect with someone like him, if only for a few minutes of passing acquaintance. I'm not holding my breath, though.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Saturday, 14 May 2016

Fun and giggles

I had a short, but memorable dream yesterday, in which I was cuddling with a young boy (not one who bore any resemblance to anyone I know in the 'real world', even by sight). There was a slight sexual frisson, but it wasn't really an 'erotic' dream in a direct sense, the predominant feeling being of fun and happiness, the boy giggling, and me responding in kind. Reflecting on the dream in my waking thoughts made it obvious that one of the things that is conspicuously absent from my life is almost any element of 'fun' - K and I have some jocular exchanges at times, but they're very much the exception, not least because, given our increasingly divergent life paths, I really don't see that much of her on a day to day basis. I guess I've always tended towards being a serious sort of person, even when I was a boy myself, but to maintain that mindset too relentlessly isn't, I think, entirely healthy. Someone to release my pent-up giggles might be distinctly therapeutic.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Tuesday, 10 May 2016

Depressingly predictable....

....and predictably depressing. I've written on several occasions about how trying I find the near-constant flow of bigotry some - indeed many - of my colleagues spout at work, so I guess that when the 'archbigot' and his nearest contender for that title were working adjacent positions, and I was one spot further to the left, as was the case overnight, it was obvious that I wasn't going to enjoy what I heard. They surpassed even those expectations though, with a screed of such hatred aimed at just about every 'outgroup' you could imagine (albeit, amazingly, not gays on this occasion) that it just left me heartsick at the knowledge that I have to share not only a workplace, but a species with their ilk. As ever, it's all the worse because I know beyond question what their opinions and attitude towards 'the real me' would be. The sooner I can escape from all of it, the job, and even the species, the better. But no matter what, escape from myself is, of course, impossible.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Sunday, 8 May 2016

Last dregs of freedom

Well, a little hyperbole there, but the impending 'last orders' call in what was my 'second-string' Wetherspoons for a while, but is now simply an 'after late shift' bolthole, because it's the only pub even vaguely near the flat that's open until midnight, will mark my latest withdrawal from anything resembling a social life for the next week, because I start nights again tomorrow. How five weeks can fly, even when your quota of fun is minimal.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B