Reminders of my failure

I hate songs about fond reminiscence of teenage years, like the one I heard on the radio a few minutes ago, extolling the warm glow engendered by memories of 'first love', 'first kisses', and that kind of thing. Because it twists the long-embedded knife in my psyche, the knowledge that I missed the whole of that area of life, given my inability to be myself as an early teen, then the growing knowledge that the world was never going to allow me to be myself anyway in my later teen years. In a way, I'm still waiting for my first kiss, the kiss of someone my heart desires. And that wait will never end, in any foreseeable circumstances.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Proud of my club

And I say 'my' club advisedly, because I'm a member, and not just a supporter, despite the fact that I've never been to Australia, and probably never will. Especially proud that we're going to host the AFL's first ever 'pride' game later this year. How I Want To Be might be seen as 'just a slogan' by some, but the club embrace it as part of their ethos. And this is an expression of that ethos, as far as I'm concerned. I'm proud to be a 'Sainter'.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Smile danger

A boy moment on the way back from work this morning - a cutie, Eastern European in origin to judge by the conversation he and his parents were having, a couple of rows in front of me on the bus, looked up at me after getting off the vehicle. And smiled at me, rather warmly, actually, dimples and all. Then the bus moved off, and he joined the myriad ranks of the 'ghosts', no different from all of those boys that flit in and out of my life, never to be seen again. Except that this boy stirred a memory, from a long time ago, twenty-five, maybe even thirty years back, I can't remember exactly. Back to the days when I still occasionally rotted my brain by reading the tabloid press. Including the 'problem pages'. And one 'problem' in particular has stuck in my mind, being reawoken by this morning's encounter. A self-described 'young man' had written in, his letter contrasting the situation he found himself in compared to the vast majority of his peers. Because, assuming the letter was authentic, he was a boylover. One phrase in the letter struck me, and still strikes me, particularly deeply. 'What do you do when a boy smiles danger at you?', he asked. And although it might not be the most grammatical question ever, I know exactly what he meant. Obviously, this morning's boy was with his parents, so any temptation he may have posed was minimal. But what might have happened had the circumstances been different, had we somehow been alone somewhere? As I've said before, I like to tell myself I'd never harm anyone, never engage in anything without 'informed consent'. But would those worthy sentiments survive in the face of opportunity, reality? I wish I could answer with a definitive 'yes', but I'd be lying if I did.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

University comes closer

After her first university interview last week, at what is one of her top two preferences, K has received a conditional offer from them today, being understandably pleased. It's dependent on her A-Level grades, of course - she will need an average, as it were, of B grades in the three exams, which she should be capable of, given the requisite degree of application. From my perspective, if she did end up on that particular course, it would have the advantage of her not being too far away - it's less than 40 miles from London - but, needless to say, what's best for her rather than me is the priority. The process continues this Wednesday, with another interview, this time at one of her less favoured establishments, but I'm sure she'll still give it her best shot - it's rather early in the piece to be burning any bridges, after all.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The weekend, and Sammy's Postulate

My doctor certainly wouldn't be impressed. He pursed his lips at my estimate of how many units of alcohol I'd consume this weekend, so the fact that I'd reached that point before I went to bed last night, and that I'm back in my local again this evening, would probably bring on another lecture. (*shrugs*) The cause of my 'irresponsibility' is the usual. Boys. Droves of them. It really has been one of those weekends. On one level, delightful to see, but in terms of my mental equilibrium, torture. I could single out several, ranging from the almost legal to the completely untouchable, who especially piqued my interest, but that would simply be rubbing salt into the proverbial wounds. I might say it's been a bit of a rollercoaster, but, overall, there have been far more downs than ups.
It has led to the postulate, though. Every 'caucasian' or otherwise lighter-skinned boy I've seen wearing an orange coat (orange certainly seems to be the 'colour of the season' for such garments) has been an absolute cutie. So I propose that all such boys in orange coats are cuties. Now that I've put the theory forward, the very next orange-coated boy I see will probably disprove it. Such is the nature of science!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It's like this, doctor

Yet another appointment at the GP's this morning, and it seems that the medication review that's been dragging on since last July has finally been resolved - after five (if I remember correctly) visits to the surgery and a hospital blood test, I've ended up with one extra pill to take, and a slightly increased dose of another medication. Good job it's all covered by the NHS, I'd be skint otherwise! The one outstanding issue, though (which will mean another blood test, probably next week, and yet another doctor's appointment, in about a month) is around an 'irregular' liver function result from the original blood test. Which led to the doctor (fairly gently, I have to admit) lecturing me about my alcohol intake. Could I consider cutting down, for the good of my future health. Well yes, I could consider it, but it isn't going to happen in current circumstances. I alluded to, without going into detail, how dismal my life (or existence, as I blogged recently) is, and, if I'm being honest, the beer is an anodyne for the hurt born of the fundamental dichotomy in my life, what I want but what I know I can never have. If I can keep going long enough to be able to help K get through what remains of her education, what happens to me thereafter, including my 'future health', is of little concern. It would be an exaggeration to say I have a death wish, but I certainly don't have any enormous ambition to drag things out indefinitely.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B 

Assorted good news, but....

....it's never unalloyed for me, seemingly. K had her first university interview yesterday, at her second choice place (the closest to London she's applied to), and she considered it to have gone well - they certainly seemed to like her, the interviewer describing her as 'charming' (a good judge of character, evidently!). But, for all that, I ended the day more than a little worried. Because of something I overheard in the pub, one of the older regulars saying he was 'sad, because of what happened to lovely Cameron'. Given my penchant for letting my imagination run away with itself, I immediately convinced myself that something awful had befallen Cammy. But, half an hour ago, the cutie bounced in here, large as life and saying 'hello' to me straight away. And he's ended up sitting very close by, albeit slightly behind me, close enough for me to hear his sweet voice. But, to sour things somewhat, my 'rival', the staff member who's befriended his family, is sitting right next to him, all over the boy, as usual. Yes, it's jealousy, I can't deny it. But, of course, there's absolutely nothing I can do except grin and bear it.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B