Adorability

I'm in what is becoming my de facto (non-local) local, and I've spent the last hour or so completely entranced by a totally lovely boy. He and his family have just left, after what seems to have been a birthday meal for one of their number, and I have no doubt that I'll never see him again - another 'ghost' - but his beauty, as in the case of so many of his predecessors, has left me happy-sad, happy to have been relatively close to him - twenty feet or so close, at least - but achingly sad that he, or anyone like him, could never be mine. I've written in the past about how my attractions are like a life sentence without hope of parole. Tonight has just reiterated that sentiment.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Surprises

Of a mixture of kinds. The first, last night, was certainly unpleasant - my old 'London local', the Wetherspoons I used most often when I was in 'domicile-ville' before, has closed down, seemingly in just the last few days. There is another branch of the chain nearby, which I'd heard might be going to close, but for my old haunt to have gone was a bit of a downer.
The next surprise, this morning, was a genuine case of bemusement, as I received a social media 'invitation' from someone I'd had several - differences of opinion, shall we say, through the comments section of this blog. I don't do any kind of social media (unless you count Blogger, of course), because I'm as determined as I ever was to keep my 'real' life and my 'cyberlife' as far apart as possible, but, given some of the things the person concerned has said about me in the past, and, indeed, my robust replies, I can only describe the invitation as inexplicable.
The last surprise has been a pleasant one, though - a buckshee early finish to my late shift at work, because of one of my colleagues was staying on for some overtime. Would I rather have done an extra two hours at work, or headed, as I have, for the pub? Guess!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Summer's end, once more

Autumn tomorrow, I can barely restrain my delight - or not, as the case may be. At least yesterday brought a little sunshine, both literal and figurative, as I travelled down to 'uni-town' to spend the afternoon with K. It was as pleasant as I could've wished for, lunch, drinks and conversation, but, as usually seems to be the case, it's been followed by bad news. The 'check-out' report on the flat was even worse than I'd been anticipating, and might well have financial repercussions, beyond the loss of my deposit, which I'd already resigned myself to. Life, just lurch from one disaster to the next, why don't you?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Non-metropolitan

Officially. I went through a rather farcical 'check-out' procedure at the flat this morning - the estate agents' person turned up ridiculously late, due to a screw-up at their end about the appointment, so I pretty much handed her the keys, and left - but it formally marked the end of my three and a half years of living in London. I know K is determined to return to the capital once she's finished at uni, but will I ever find myself living there again? The short answer is that I have no idea, but it's certainly not something I would shy away from, if it could be achieved affordably. There's a big part of me that would love to go back to Cornwall, but the part of me that favours London isn't so far behind. Time, as ever, will tell.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Plus ça change

I'm in 'domicile-ville' Wetherspoons for the first time in three and a half years, and a little more, and, frankly, it's as vile as it always was. As is 'domicile-ville' itself. With hindsight - that most useless of commodities - I'm wishing already that I'd been more proactive and found somewhere affordable in London to move to. The saving grace, I guess, is that I'm not tied to any sort of tenancy contract at my accommodation, so if I do find anything back up in the 'Oystercard zone', I could go at fairly short notice. It might be sooner rather than later.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Working like a dog....

....to achieve a thoroughly suboptimal outcome, certainly from my perspective. Although the 'last rites' won't be played out for another week, when I go through the 'check out' procedure for the flat, for all practical purposes, neither K or I live in London anymore. K worked as hard as I did, to be fair, but she was far more invested in moving to 'uni-town' than I was in my relocation back to 'domicile-ville'. And she didn't have to drive the bloody van, which had definitely not been designed with people with my length of leg in mind. I've pretty much always enjoyed driving, but the past weekend's experience, after my not having driven at all for well over three years, was, frankly, no fun whatsoever. To spoil my mood still further, all the 'humping and dumping' I was doing culminated, yesterday morning as I was two-thirds of the way through moving my stuff from the van to my first floor room, in my suffering very painful, and, in terms of what I was doing, debilitating muscle spasms in my (dominant) right arm. It's still more than a little sore now, the upshot of which is that while I managed to get everything into the room, eventually, the floor looks like a jumble sale, with numerous bags and boxes of my belongings still needing to be unpacked and put away. It will be done, hopefully sooner rather than later, but it's thoroughly frustrating that I wasn't able to finish the job yesterday, as I'd originally planned.
Even if everything had gone totally swimmingly, though, one inescapable heartache would still have been there. The fact, of course, that unless something completely unexpected happens, I'll never live under the same roof as my girl again. I have no doubt that we'll always be close, but phone calls, however frequent, and the occasional meeting are no substitute for sharing a home. I'm going to miss her, more than I can say.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It worked out, in the end

Pretty much by chance, though. After Tuesday's amiable, if not fond, farewell, I didn't really expect to come back to 'regular haunt' Wetherspoons, but my doings today, most notably going down to 'domicile-ville' to pick up the keys to my old new accommodation, didn't take as long as I'd imagined, so I've found myself back in the pub I've used the most since my local closed last year. And, much to my surprise, Daniel is working, even though Thursday isn't usually one of his days. And he has pulled what will be, unless something totally unforeseen happens, my last pint here. Nothing more to add, really. I'm just pleased it was him.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Ends of eras

Although I guess three and a half years is far too short to qualify as an era, but, whatever, the pieces of the North West London endgame are starting to fall into place. The van for this weekend's move is hired, the end of tenancy cleaning service has been booked for early next week, the packing up will begin tomorrow. And other things are coming to an end, too. I'm drinking what will probably be my last ever pint in what has become, by default, my most regular Wetherspoons haunt - I absolutely refuse to call it my local, because, as far as I'm concerned, my local closed in February last year. There is a connection, though, because Daniel, cute Daniel, is working here tonight. There was a moment when I thought he would be the one to serve me that last pint, but he was busy doing something else, and the moment passed. To be honest, he's pretty much the only thing I'll miss about this place - there won't be any meltdowns like the one I had over Cammy on the last night of my old local's existence this time around. I've liked living in London again, and this part of London has been absolutely fine, apart from the ridiculously time-consuming commuting, but my emotional attachment to the area consists of Cammy, who I never really had the least expectation of seeing again after the demise of the old place, and K, who'll be off in 'uni-town'. So, I guess, as 'ends of eras' go, this one shouldn't be too traumatic.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The past

Completely unreachable, unchangeable, but still with the power to reach me, and wring my heart dry. I've spent the past hour or so rereading a handful of stories from the very early days of Nephelokokkygia, stories about, or prompted by, two of the great loves of my life, R, the first boy I ever fell in love with, at school, at 17, and, from the more recent past, the most beautiful boy in the world, DBJ. Not only that, but I dreamed, a couple of nights ago, about the ultimate love of my life, my cousin, my darling boy, who, of course, hates me beyond words now. There are times when I wish I could wipe my memory clean, like reformatting a hard drive. This is one of those times.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

September

Already. Summer is virtually over, the schools go back next week, cutting my eye candy quotient drastically, and although I've got the best part of two weeks off after I finish work on Sunday, I'll be far too busy to enjoy it very much, given that K and I will both be moving to our respective new domiciles during that time.
And there are other melancholy echoes, too - tomorrow is the second anniversary of Jay's untimely death, and, as I've discovered in the past hour or so, David's last blog appears to have been deleted. I wish I could run away from it all, but, of course, the one thing that you can never run away from is yourself.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B