The Last Post

One of the many monikers I have adopted for myself is that of Harry the hyperactive arachnid, in recognition of the many little blogs and other web-based projects that I am involved with. The time I spend working on these projects could or should be spent doing stuff around the house and in the garden. In fact, tending to my blogs and web-sites is very much like being a gardener - tidying up, a bit of weeding, planting new flowers, cross-pollinating and constant nurturing. Sadly, being a virtual gardener does nothing to improve the state of the encroaching jungle at my back door. Previous posts have talked about the giraffes and zebras that are probably grazing at the end of the garden, and I dare not think about what might be lurking in the long grass.

Also, not many people seem to stop by to admire my blooms, so I am often left wondering why I do it. I think an important factor is that it provides an outlet for my creativity, a part of my being and soul which would otherwise wither in the workplace.

With spring just around the corner, it is a good time to engage in a bit of virtual landscape gardening. To this end, I am exporting this blog to my posh blog so as to make maintenance and future growth more manageable and efficient. I had this idea all by myself, without any input from a management consultant. I must be getting quite grown-up now.

So, despite the valedictory tone of this post, you can continue to be amused, enlightened and edified (but not necessarily in that order or in equal measures) by following me to Wistful and Wry with a Twist of Lemon, also known as my posh blog, where I will continue to make mostly daily posts in a range of hues and of variable quality. Sometimes there is not enough rain, sometimes the frost is cruel, and there are some damp and shady places from whence strangeness may come...

And finally, for this blog, a BIG THANK YOU  you to everyone who helped me raise funds for Cancer Research UK by sponsoring my month of abstinence. I raised £52 through contributions and matched this amount with the money I saved by not buying wine.

There and Back

Main task of the day successfully accomplished - bringing my daughter back from Oxford at the end of term. Secondary task of the day also partially accomplished - tinkering with my various blogs and tweaking my websites. In my guise as Harry the hyperactive arachnid, I have been spinning magic.

My usual Saturday task of doing the weekly shop has had a lower profile this weekend, and nothing amusing or insightful happened during my trip to the supermarket. Sometimes Saturdays are like that.

I think a little foto delight is what is called for right now...

Friday Feelings

So, another week draws to a close. Nothing dramatic this week, just tickling over, free-wheeling, looking to get into gear for next week. There is always next week, the best reason for not doing it today.

It has been a horrible day in the Bedfordshire valleys and Northamptonshire steppes, driving to work in heavy mist again, a mist that never lifted, and returning home in even worse visibility.

Oh, just noticed I put "tickling" instead of "ticking" in the first paragraph. Too good to change - I think tickling over is a far better description of the week. It may not be accurate, but it sure sounds like more fun.

Only discovery of the day is that you can buy duvet pegs. You put them at the corners of the duvet cover when you try to shake in the duvet. I don't know how I lived without them. Before their existence, presumably the land was awash with duvets without covers, gazed upon by bemused citizens.

October in March

The promise of spring was quickly broken. My drive to work this morning was through wet mist, redolent of an October morning. Mist curled round trees in a tight embrace, fearful to let go, like an autumn leaf with separation anxiety.

Suddenly, or so it seems, lambs have appeared in the fields. Another sign of the gambolling problem that is causing such havoc in some communities.

By this evening, we were in November. Heavy rain falling from a dark sky before 6.00 pm.

In all other respects, not a bad day. Four days back at work and I'm starting to get the hang of it again. I will probably peak tomorrow, and then it will be downhill to the weekend.

Taking Flight

Another marathon MDT meeting today, from 09.00 through to 12.30. So close to Luton airport, we can hear some of the aircraft on their approach and/or departure. How lovely it would be to be aboard one of those outward flights, to be far from here. Unfortunately, it is only my thoughts that can take flight, giving me temporary relief from tedium.

I enjoyed my lunch of sausage sandwich on the train back from Luton to Bedford, reading Metro. Sometimes we have  to settle for First Capital Connect rather than Wizzair.

Fog Blog

The ice and fog returned to the Northamptonshire steppes this morning, but lovely sunshine made an appearance later in the day. I spent most of the afternoon in another MDT meeting wishing I was elsewhere, looking out at the fading sunshine as the day drifted away, taking some of my soul with it. Apart from that, not too bad a day!

No major insights into the meaning of life today and no humorous events or encounters. I angered one driver by wrongfully taking precedence at a chicane down by the embankment - but hey, why get so worked up by these things? We will all reach our destinations in due course, let's enjoy the drive. Just beware of chicane cheats.

Back to Work

A fairly easy introduction back into the workplace today. Thankfully there were no disasters while I was away and no-one had cleared my desk or office. No nasties in my email inbox either. Good to start in a positive way, although I was not exactly filled with enthusiasm.

I have spent most of this evening processing my photographs from yesterday's expedition to Cambridge, so not much time or energy left for an inspiring post tonight. I share an apposite picture...

Cycles and Punts

A title that needs to be handled with care. Today was the last workshop for the Inspired Light photography course, as we turned up fully loaded and ready to shoot everything that moved or threatened to move in the beautiful city of Cambridge. We were not blessed with sunshine, but it was reasonably mild and we were able to find  pictures in a range of unlikely places as we deployed our newly-found and polished photographers' eyes. For me, the title sums up the main themes of my pictures.

And so back to work tomorrow....

Affinity

It was curious to note that when we were waiting at the baggage reclaim indicator board on our return from Iceland - and please take a look at my holiday snaps! - , four of us were standing in the same order as we were sitting on the plane. This unplanned occurrence suggests that the flight had created a strange affinity between us - notwithstanding that one of the people in this airport tableau was my wife - even though we had not interacted with the other two passengers during the flight. Maybe strange gravitational forces are created due to speed and altitude that persist when we disembark. This needs to be researched further, lest one is prone to follow a fellow passenger through the wrong exit channel at Customs, or even to the wrong car park, bus stop, hotel, town...the consequences could range from the embarrassing to the catastrophic. It could be conceptualised as a form of aviation imprinting.

There was a brief echo of this during my supermarket shopping this morning - a woman apologised for talking to me because she thought I was her friend. Maybe sometime in the past we shared a flight.

Defrosting

I'm sure no-one expected me to resume blogging last night after such an early start for the return journey from Iceland. Everything in its own time. A lovely if rather hectic few days, the holiday equivalent of "Supermarket Dash" for those of you who remember the TV show. In five days of travel, we boarded 4 planes, 4 coaches, 2 buses, 2 mini-buses and 4 taxis. However, we eventually got to see a subtle display of the northern lights despite the cloud cover and the light from a full moon. We brought enough clothes for an Arctic expedition, but in the end the temperature did not drop lower than 2 to 3 degrees Celsius. Ironically, it was colder in Leicester when we were shopping for cold weather clothing.

It was strangely moving, a reminder of our insignificance as individuals, as a species, as a planet in the eternal story of the universe, kindling feelings redolent of those I felt when watching the Hale-Bopp comet in1997 - a sense of cold isolation and desolation, doomed to hurtle through space for eternity unless rescued by a collision with a larger object. Maybe there is a message here about life itself as we follow our respective paths and orbits under the illusion of  having control and choice.

Blog on Ice

This blog will be put on ice for a few days while I am on holiday in Iceland. I look forward to entertaining you further on my return. Keep warm.

And the Winner is...

Here we are on the eve of the Oscars ceremony again. I was expecting a call this time, I thought I might have been short-listed for best supporting psychologist in a foreign film, or as best director for "CBT - The Movie" (strap line - " Just when you thought it was safe to think again..."). As it is, I spent most of the day shopping in Leicester in preparation for our imminent trip to Iceland - which I believe is going to be marginally warmer than it is here in the UK.

It was lovely to have a big bowl of home-made chips in The Globe in Leicester. This was apparently once a jail for women awaiting execution in the nearby Gallowgate. Chips and dips with a history lesson.

Friday at Last

The teaching did not take place today due to an administrative hiccough, but had it gone ahead my voice was in fine shape today. Two drives to the lovely ancient town of Dunstable due to bad planning on my part, and thankful that I was able to do a swerve today and get off the M1 in time to miss a large tail-back due to a vehicle fire. For once, the traffic reports worked in my favour, even if they interrupted my enjoyment of my Motown Anthems.

Some interesting issues have arisen in my work with clients this week. The challenge of hearing voices from two Gods, and the distinction between being "picked on" and "chosen". We live within boundaries of varying degrees of permeability, and I think that understanding this is fundamental to understanding our relationships with others - how the lessons from early life become translated or manifested in our later lives. Are we all doomed to repeat the mistakes of our past? Formulation is like completing a jig-saw puzzle, but we can never be sure that we have all the pieces, and without the picture to guide us, what we think is a sunflower in a vase may turn out to be a dandelion in a cracked tumbler.

Oh, this is too much for a Friday night, especially now that I am on holiday for a week!

Martial Arts for the Partially Artistic

From the excitement of photography class last night to the reality of martial arts training this evening. I may be a Ninja photographer, but my moves in the Do Jang would not merit an exhibition - they lack focus and composure. I am in the remedial class for the differently gifted. Oh well, it is about the journey and a little humility is something to be proud of!

I'm also losing my voice, which bodes well for my teaching tomorrow afternoon. A little red wine for lubrication now is a good use of red wine. Did I tell you I had an alcohol-free January to raise funds for Cancer Research UK? Please donate a little if you have not already done so - I'm keen to post some more embarrassing photos of myself! Time is running out, and like most photographers I need a little exposure.

Photography Class

The class this evening focused on critical feedback on our own work, and it was very pleasing and reassuring to hear favourable comments from professional photographers. It encourages me to pursue my interest further, to learn more and to become even better. I include three of my favourite shots for your enjoyment.

 

Anonymise and Harmonise

This was the phrase that came to me this afternoon when I was preparing teaching materials for Friday. I had cut and pasted sections from various psychological reports I had written to provide examples of how to present concise CBT case conceptualisations. I needed to remove the names of clients and to structure the layout in a consistent style. Hence anonymise and harmonise. I think I will look for other opportunities to use this pleasing phrase.

It was a pleasant drive to Bedford this morning, a light mist insinuating itself across the frosty fields. By this afternoon, we were enjoying bright sunshine and blue skies, against which I saw the large circus tent near the embankment. Unfortunately there was not a convenient place to stop to take a photograph.

Let's be honest, not too many people are following this blog, I think it is an acquired taste, like good bitter. I may need to integrate it with one of my other blogs which have been neglected of late.

Now, this all started to record my month of abstinence from alcohol. Successful abstinence in an attempt to raise funds for Cancer Research UK in their Dryathlon campaign.

Here is the good news - you have until  the end of the month to contribute if you have not already done so! Take a look at some of the earlier posts to remind yourself or acquaint yourself with the quality of this blog - candid pictures, quotes, and facts about alcohol. A few more pounds and I will post a picture of myself looking the worse for wear and almost wearing a shirt.

If you do not want to contribute online, you can do it by mobile for free - just text PSYC99 £x to 70070, where x = 1,2,3,5 or 10.

Thank you. Anonymise and harmonise.

Sacred Light

My mind is a blank this evening, a tabula rasa.

A photo for you to contemplate...

Maxed Out

Well, to be more accurate, T. K. Maxxed out! Over the course of the weekend we visited stores in Kettering, Leicester and Northampton, in our quest for warm outdoor clothing, the reason for which will become clearer as the week progresses.

I have also been busy doing photographic things on my computer this evening in preparation for class this week, and I was to be found on top of the multi-storey car park in Northampton late this afternoon - no, not trying to escape from T.K. Maxx (but that was a fortunate by-product), but taking pictures of the early evening sky and cranes (the construction type, not the birds), sad person that I am. I was practising exposure and manual focusing, but I'm not convinced that will stand up in court.

Four Give Us Our Daily Bread

Jack goes into a supermarket and buys 4 rolls. The total price is £1.20. How much does eack roll cost?
Answer: 30p.
A baker's dozen would cost £3.90.

Jill goes into a supermarket and buys 5 rolls. The total price is £1. How much does each roll cost?
Answer: 20p.
A baker's dozen would cost £2.60.

Wrong.

It would cost £2.90 (i.e. £2 for 10 rolls at 20p each and 3 rolls at 30p each.).

Jill would clearly be better off buying 15 rolls for £3, and selling her two unwanted rolls to Jack at a discounted price.

This was the conundrum I was faced with today when I chose 4 rolls instead of 5. And being faced with a conundrum in the supermarket early on a Saturday morning is not the best start to the day. To circumvent the need for me to pay £1.20 for 4, an assistant was dispatched to fetch me an additional roll so I ended up with 5 for £1. The cashier could not challenge the computer system set up to manage this craziness by quietly agreeing I could leave the store with 4 rolls for a £1, I had to have the additional roll.

And the moral of this tale?

Firstly, Jack and Jill should have contented themselves with fetching a pail of water.

Secondly, more and more our behaviour is being shaped to fit the computer models rather than the models being adapted to suit the vagaries of human behaviour. But then, unlike the rolls, I'm a crusty old fool.

Fizzled Out Friday

The week reaches its predictable end, but it has been a fairly productive one on the work front. I have new locums starting next week and I feel like a general moving my therapeutic troops around on a big map of the mind. An easy drive to Dunstable this morning, helped by it being half-term in Northamptonshire. But by mid-afternoon back in Bedford, I felt my energy and enthusiasm begin to fizzle out. A pile of work needing my attention, I symbolically tickled the surface and in a very determined way made a list of what I need to do next week. Firstly, to add this list to the one I prepared at the end of last week.

With wishes for a lovely weekend to all.

St Trifon Zarazan

No. it is clearly not an anagram of St Valentine. St Trifon is the patron saint of wine growers and is celebrated today in, among other places, Bulgaria. Special ceremonies are enacted in the vineyards, the vines are pruned, and later much wine is consumed. Sounds just like any other day at work for me.

The day has been quite pleasant. Slight creaming accident in the kitchen tonight as I prepared a special St Valentine meal - I shook the tub for a second time having forgotten I had unsealed the lid. I blame St Trifon Zarazan.

We spoke at work today of how in time the organisation will run like clockwork. I suggested that clockwork mice might be a better analogy - running around in circles and/or bumping into the skirting board. It's that St Trifon again.

Evening Shades of Grey

There was a lovely pink and orange sky early this morning, allowing the wind turbines to stretch their arms towards this deliciousness. An orange sun, sliced in half by a streak of grey cloud, completed the picture, looking like the logo for a holiday company selling holidays in sunny places. Yet by 4.30 this afternoon, every shade of grey filled the sky as a gentle flurry of snow fell during my early drive home. So, a day of colours ends in monochromatic dullness. Although we could identify a long meeting this morning as the starting point of colour being drained from the day, like the orange being squeezed of its juice, and not helped by train chaos at Luton due to overhead line problems at Radlett. Where is the Wichita line man when you need him?

Composure and Composition

The day began with clearing the snow from my car which I didn't clear yesterday, but now it was frozen on. At least I didn't have the walk to the station and instead gave my arms some exercise with the scraper.

I was interviewing for locum staff today, so hurriedly had to compose some suitably penetrating questions. I was unable to make any links with the sudden retirement of the Pope, although some might have seen my post in another place yesterday which wondered why I have to give three months notice while the pope gave less than a month's notice. Maybe psychologists are harder to replace. Keep an eye open for my next enpsychlical - sorry to recycle this one!

Composition was the main theme in camera class tonight - how to turn a snapshot into a crackshot. It is about the rule of thirds ("third time lucky"), golden means, lines, curves, corners, echoes, patterns and textures. I begin to get the picture.

Edge Monday

So, here we sit on the edge of the start of another week, wondering what it will bring, whether we will be able to keep our balance and get through to the weekend, the pot of elusive gold at the end of the rainbow.

Not much of note today. I cba to sweep the snow off my car this morning so decided to take the train to work instead. At least the walk to the station gives me a bit of extra exercise. The snow was soon washed away by the rain and slightly increasing temperature. That's how nature works, I guess. Or physics.

Photography class tomorrow, another chance for my wry observations to go unobserved and unremarked.

Severe Weather Forecast

I drove my eldest daughter back to Oxford this afternoon, a horrible drive through ceaseless rain which was interlaced with snow on the way back home. The matrix signs on the M40 said "Severe Weather Forecast Today", so we were in no doubt about the conditions we were driving through. However, I did wonder about the grammatical structure of this very straightforward message. I imagined the weather forecaster shouting and wagging a stern finger at the audience - not sure how one actually wags a stern finger, but I guess it is part of their meteorological training (they strengthen their fingers by lifting isobars) - and telling them that woe betide them if they don't heed the advice to wind-proof and water-proof themselves. That is a severe weather forecast, rather than a forecast of severe weather.

Supermarket Comrades

The weekly trip to the supermarket is a prominent feature of my Saturdays. Today it was marked by meeting two comrades from the local Labour party - we were councillors together a good few years ago. The first encounter was in the fruit and vegetable section, where we exchanged a few comments about entertaining, cooking and the study of philosophy and logic. Logic to a backdrop of cucumbers and mushrooms.  All cucumbers are vegetables. I am a cucumber. Therefore I am a vegetable.

The second encounter was even more surreal. This was outside the store. I was pushing my trolley along the covered walkway towards where my car was parked - it would have been illogical to go in any other direction under the circumstances - and I heard a voice call my name from a little below me. My colleague was descending with her trolley on the de-escalator to the lower car park level - presumably, I deduced with impeccable logic, to where she had parked her car. We had a short and bizarre conversation as the vertical distance between us increased (from x to y in the helpful diagram below).

Memories of Kay

It was more than 10 years ago when Kay came into my life and touched me in ways I still don't understand. She was warm, resilient and had a very idiosyncratic view of the world. She opened my eyes to another way of seeing, to the mystical aspects of life that so often get lost in the humdrum of daily life as we go about our business. We enjoyed trips to Milton Keynes to "bring down the moon", visits to London to re-trace the haunts of her early life, and a very memorable weekend of fire-walking. We said goodbye to her today, but not to the memories and feelings she has left us with.

A Day Without a Motif

It is often the case that a day can be said to have a motif, something distinctive, or a recurring element, but today has not been one of those days. I arrived at work under a blue sky and drove home in quickly descending darkness and rain, dazzled by oncoming headlights and the bright reflections off the surface of the road.

Whilst on a driving theme, it is pertinent to note my youngest daughter's success in passing her driving test first time. I took five attempts - passing on the final one, thankfully, although I was tempted to take another one to get in the half-dozen. And why was this? I think the simplest answer is that I couldn't drive.

At work my thoughts turned to the prospect of retirement. Images of applying WD40 (other lubrucants are available) to my Zimmer frame (probably other walking frames are available), digging out a suitable cardigan, de-coking my pipe, and listening to the Stereophonics - oh, sorry, I meant listening to the stereophonic James Last Orchestra on vinyl.

This evening I subjected myself to the weekly ritualistic humiliation of trying to do martial arts. People do not appreciate the challenges faced by those who are partially dyspraxic with poor proprioception. In karate classes at university I invariably ended up facing in the wrong direction. Maybe there is a motif here for my life as a whole - I was there, but facing the wrong way.

Skies

 The slowly turning arms of the wind turbines tried to push away the dark clouds pressing down on them this morning. These are arms that will never embrace.

Later, thick sunlight smeared like butter on crumpet clouds.

In Luton, a black cape on the edge of town, drawing closer - to protect or suffocate?


Example of Dark Cloud over London (near Luton)



In yoga class tonight we were introduced to "tree". Note to self - in the interests of health and safety, do not do "tree" if neighbour is doing "dog".

No Words Today

For Kay and all who will miss her so.

 

Monday Musings

It was a shock to the system this morning when my alarm sounded, dragging me out of a deep sleep at 07.00. Could it really be Monday morning already? What happened to the weekend?

Once I had absent-mindedly completed my morning rituals, then I started to feel better. In the end, it turned out to be a fairly easy day, dealing with the incoming emails as though they were ducks at a fairground. Except I didn't win a goldfish or plaster ornament.

Typically, after the uniform greyness of a monochromatic Sunday, today would have been a lovely day for photographs - bright sunshine, blue skies and some interesting clouds. At least there is the promise of Spring, even though we have plenty more cold days to get through according to recent weather alerts. And the drive home starts to be mostly in daylight now.

And so to the news of the day, with a skeletal theme. Firstly, the confirmation that the skeleton found under a car park in Leicester is indeed that of King Richard III. Secondly, the truth clatters like a skeleton out of Chris Huhn's cupboard as he admits to perverting the course of justice by persuading his then-wife to take the hit for a speeding fine. It would seem that his political career is also heading to the cemetery. So, one buried under a car park, one buried by a motoring offence. There is poetry everywhere if you look closely.

Exposure

The photography workshop was very educational, but a true artist has to suffer, and being exposed to the elements this morning certainly put us to the test. This hobby can be expensive because of all the photographic equipment one is tempted to buy, but there are additional costs in terms of in(thermal)vesting in some good outdoor clothing. I was pleased I brought my walking/talking boots but missed out on the woolly hat.

We took pictures of reeds blowing in the wind to learn how to freeze movement or to go with the flow, of trees and posts to practise our focusing and depth of field skills, and of a pond with assorted surroundings to experiment with light meter readings. I took over 200 hundred pictures - I think they will be very entertaining to show friends at some point, if they have 2 hours of their lives they don't want back again and can cope with 50 shots of reeds (holiday snapshot nightmare!).

Reed All About It!

New Shoes and a Visit

Life is back to normal in the lovely market town of Kettering, far from the sea and reality. Two events of significance today - I bought a new pair of shoes and my son paid a flying visit on his way to an engagement party in Leicester, and next week he is off to Florida on business. How lovely to live our lives through our children - my work never takes me beyond Luton and Dunstable, although there is the occasional rare trip out to Pitsea or Thurrock in Essex. How about a little picture of seagull boy in Southend...


Birdman of Southend




The commitment to a new pair of shoes is significant in that it shows my determination to stride forward in life, proud, without the risk of twisting my ankle because of worn down heels. I will walk tall both here in Kettering, and further afield in places like Luton - but not necessarily in a field.

I am looking forward to my photography trip tomorrow, but there has been a change of plan - due to rain and snow issues, we will be giving the embankment a miss and instead we will be heading for Marston Vale forest centre (a lovely project to reclaim natural habitats after years of industrialisation by the brick-making industry centred on Stewartby on the outskirts of Bedford). More tomorrow if I remain in focus. And finally, another shot from Southend...

"Don't run off with my shoes"

First Drink Friday

My first sip of wine after a month of abstinence was as wonderful as I imagined. I chose a lovely South African wine from Boschendal, which I think was one of the vineyards I visited in the Cape almost 10 years ago. Mind you, I think I drank it a little too quickly, not allowing for my reduced tolerance. But hey, it's Friday night and I've had a fairly good week at work, so let's go for it!

Thank you to everyone who has given me encouragement over the past month and to those of you who have made a donation to Cancer Research UK. I am quite a bit short of my target so if you have not yet managed to donate, I am pleased to say that contributions are still being accepted! These can be made through Just Giving or by texting PSYC99 £x to 70070 free of charge, where x= 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 or 10. Think of it as buying me a virtual drink at the bar for my efforts over the past month and for my attempts to  inform and entertain through my daily diary.

I was disappointed that yesterday's suspect picture from my suspect collection did not generate much comment, but thank you Ceco for liking it (after all, I think you took the picture - thank you!). How low do I have to set the bar to get a reaction?! It is like limbo dancing, but I wouldn't sink that low.  I pushed the limits with my little collage on Wednesday night - how terrible did I look with the rubber band round my head trying to demonstrate a tension headache? You are so hard to please, but I think I may be able to rustle up some more dodgy pics if I get a few more donations. You won't be surprised to learn that I was expelled from the pole dancing classes for inappropriate use of a light fitting. Some people just don't appreciate creativity.

Last Night of Sobriety

At last, the final day of sobriety, temperance, and abstinence - after a month of amazing self-control, self-denial, selfless dedication to the cause. Now is the time to dig deep and show your admiration and appreciation for this incredible achievement, and support the work of Cancer Research UK! To help you take this step, to offer a little encouragement, I have posted another suspect image from my private collection of suspect images of myself.

What else has been taking my attention today? Well, there are my thoughts about "Mobiles in the Mist", which I may feature at some point on my posh blog. Alpha male gorillas show their power and dominance by beating their chests loudly. The urban equivalent seems to be those who speak loudest on their mobile phones. This morning, there was a guy a good few yards behind me who was doing exactly this. Luckily I was able to keep a low profile in the long grass, although I caused a bit of a splash in the water hole and disturbed a herd of gazelles.

On the work front, I managed to wash a few piglets today and put a few things in order. I uncovered a tickler file with "Monday" written on it. Tickler files are a way of ensuring that things get done on the right day, a tip I picked up many years ago from a book on time management. Somewhere I have files for the other days of the working week, and for the following week and month and so on. However, in reality, everything seems to end up in the Monday file, and most of the stuff ends up not getting done. Who wants to be tickled on a Monday?

This marks the end of an era, but please feel free to stop by anytime. I intend to keep the blog going for the whole year, notwithstanding the times I will be out of the country. You will be treated to mundane details about my daily life, occasional insights, a little humour, maybe some photos, and information/links to my other web-based projects - I am, after all, Harry the hyperactive arachnid.

Penultimate Wednesday

One more day to go after this, and it's looking good! A month of abstinence from alcohol, of temperance, has run its course without any slip-ups. Some trying times, some temptation, but nothing too big to handle. I hope to see my sponsorship for Cancer Research UK froth up a bit after tomorrow, like a head on a slowly poured litre of German lager - here is the link for those of you who want to mark this momentous occasion - it will make you feel good for making me feel good for helping in the fight against cancer. And it will be a long time before you have to buy me another drink!  Remember my promise to post an embarrassing picture if I reach at least half of my target. Well, here is another teaser...

Tonight I have been to my second yoga class. As last week, there was pet-shop chaos as I got to grips with dog, cat and pigeon. Tonight we went a stage further with "boat", so I was all at sea. All I need now is the owl.

Teetotal Tuesday

As we approach the end-game, another day of abstinence under my belt and I'm feeling good. This evening was the second session of my photography course, which is proving to be very interesting and helpful. It is only when you start to study that you realise how much you don't know. We will have a practical session on Sunday along the embankment in Bedford, so that is something to look forward to. Bridges, water, maybe some rowers, a weir, possibly ducks and swans - what more could a keen photographer want?

On the work front it has been a fairly unremarkable day, a few little tasks completed but nothing significant. Uninspired and uninspiring. At least the walk between locations offers a bit of respite.

Data Flow Monday

The day started in a lovely way, meeting my friend Debs on the way to the station this morning. From there, it could only be downhill. I have spent most of the working day engrossed in a data flow mapping exercise, trying to get to grips with the spread-sheet which was spread before me like a bizarre picnic blanket. Inputting the data about the data did not take much time in itself, it was all the preparatory stuff that ate up the hours. Some emails to send, printing things off, reading, thinking about it, deciding to do something different first, making a cup of tea, more thinking, another cup of tea, complete a few lines, brain completely bereft of ideas. I think my employers should provide a USB connector for my head and plug me straight into the system. My thoughts could form part of this great data river. No swimming or fishing allowed without a licence from the information governance team.

Despite all this, I remain abstinent from alcohol. To buy me a virtual drink after such a trying day and to raise some money for Cancer Research UK, you can text PSYC99 £x to 70070 free of charge, where x = 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 or 10. Thank you.

Fourth Sunday in Abstinence



Church on Lundy Island

 The fourth Sunday in Abstinence is traditionally dedicated to hope. We are approaching the end of a month of self-imposed abstinence from alcohol to raise funds for Cancer Research UK, and the prospect of a glass of wine on Friday evening will be enough to carry me through the week.

It has been a fairly easy day, a tedious morning spent completing my tax return and a very enjoyable evening sharing a delicious meal with friends. A glass of wine would have been nice, but there is no way I'm going to fall at the final hurdle, dedicated Dryathlete that I am.

The only sad thing about Sunday evenings is that Monday morning is not far away. The weekend hours seem so precious, but they slip like quicksilver through my fingers. The hours of the working week slither like a slow-worm through the long grass of a hot summer afternoon. In some meetings, it is as though the slow-worm is pulling a heavy weight. Whither hope? Hey Mr Slow Worm, unburden thyself and get a wriggle on!

Blue Skies Return

A lovely walk along the Wellingborough embankment this morning, enjoying the first sunshine and blue skies for a few days. It was a good opportunity to  take a few pictures, some of which I will share with you in this post.

Sign Put out for Derek

I came upon this sign during my walk back from the embankment. It was as though I was being tested. That's personalisation for you.

My abstinence is being strictly enforced, to the extent that I have not been putting wine or brandy in my sauces when cooking. That is the dedication of a true Dryathlete and is surely worth some recognition in the form of a little sponsorship for Cancer Research UK? Or am I just being saucy?

 

Final Friday

The final Friday test for me today, and it so happens to fall on Burns' night! Normally I would mark the occasion with the usual haggis and a wee dram - not forgetting the year I addressed the haggis and with a floursih withdrew a paring knife from my sock! I couldn't face the haggis without the whisky, so it was chicken tonight. Two years living in Edinburgh and I'm an honorary Scot.

I have driven to Dunstable three times this week and I'm beginning to feel tired. I ran one of my CBT mini-workshops this afternoon on the theme of hopelessness. I think I was my usual inspiring self and managed to convey a pervading sense of hopelessness to the participants. My workshops are experiential. We looked at Beck's Hopelessness Scale (BHS) - but in my lexicon BHS was always British Home Stores. Maybe there is a link - abandon hope all ye who shop there! No, that's not really fair - I used to work there.

So, time is running out for you to support my efforts to raise funds for Cancer Research UK as one of their Dryathletes. I am making sacrifices to do this - it may not amount to coping with cravings, but I miss something that is a pleasurable part of my life. If this in itself is not worthy of sponsorship, I hope you will show your appreciation for my daily posts, my wisdom, my wit, my humour, my self-disclosures (and remember the photo I have teased you with and promised to post!) and the educational Alcohol Info Shots that have featured in some posts. The good news is that this blog will continue beyond the end of the month, hopefully until the end of the year, although there may be gaps when I am out of the country (still working on this).  Thank you.

Alcohol Quotes #3
"Strong ale was ablution,
Small beer persecution,
A dram was memento mori,
But a full-flowing bowl
Was the saving his soul,
And port was celestial glory."
[From Epitaph on John Dove, Innkeeper, by Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796]

Penultimate Thursday

One more week of abstinence from alcohol stretches before me like an ice slide, although I am not anticipating any slips. I have metaphorical crampons to help me keep a grip on my alcohol-free lifestyle. These are similar to the crampons that also help me to keep a grip on reality, but some people may think that I should get a refund on them. There are a number of on-line metaphor stores that cater for the metaphorically minded if you want to go down this path, but icy conditions could cause problems.  You might be better off going to the Allegory Gallery, or down-market to the Simile Shop which is as easy as pie, but does not actually sell any pies.


Metaphor I: Life is a bouncy castle



Metaphor II: Life is a river

A slow drive to Dunstable this morning, a couple of cancelled appointments in Bedford, and so the day passed. The usual antics at martial arts this evening, but I did feel a bit more flexible after my yoga class yesterday. I think this will be good for me -  although if I can't remember the differences between cat, dog and pigeon, there could be pet-shop mayhem.

Recurring Dreams

Yesterday's post was concerned with memory, the voluntary recall of events from the past. Today I want to turn my attention to the world of dreams, mostly because of the dreams I had last night. I think the themes of our recurring dreams reflect some of our deeper anxieties and insecurities. The theme of  my dream last night was having to return to my undergraduate studies. The main elements were feeling lost, not knowing where I was supposed to be going, feeling that I am missing out on a whole series of lectures, the sense that I will be asked to do an exam on the topics covered by these lectures, the sense that actually I have already graduated and qualified so it's not really fair that I have to be here at all. I'm not sure what the underlying anxieties are, but I think they are related to the "imposter syndrome" - feeling that I'm not really qualified, that there has been a mistake, that it was all about good luck and it is only a matter of time before I am found out.

An interesting aspect of last night's dream was that it was played out against a soundtrack of "Careful with that axe, Eugene" by Pink Floyd, a track I haven't heard for years. I woke wondering why. And then during my travels today I remembered that yesterday in the car I heard on the radio an item about the dangers of using chainsaws. An intriguing link, I feel, but any meaning escapes me. To borrow from Zen, a psychologist trying to understand his dreams is like a sword trying to cut itself. Apposite.

Oh, I remain abstinent. First yoga class tonight - more details in a future post perhaps. I did cat, dog, warrior and pigeon. Now I have to consult my lecture timetable to find out where I need to be tomorrow - wherever it is, I haven't done the assignment.

Memory Lane or Gin Alley?

So foggy on the way to work this morning, and throughout the day on stretches of the M1. It was minus nine degrees at twenty to nine this morning. One of my intentions for my daily diary throughout January was to reflect on the role of alcohol in my life. A little trip down memory lane, but one has to be aware of the propensity for fog and ice.

Demonstrating Dart Throwing

I remember going to the pub at lunchtimes when I was in the sixth form at school, enjoying a couple of pints of cider and a game of darts. I had the nick-name of Zulu because of the powerfulness of my dart-throwing, but sadly this was not matched by the accuracy. Like many teenagers, I had to progress through the various stages of induction into the mysteries of alcohol. My parents were not drinkers, but I remember my grandfather enjoying a glass of Mackeson at home while playing cards. How much better my A level grades might have been if I had not fallen into bad habits, how different a course my life might have taken! In truth, I echo Edith Piaf - je ne regrette rien.

I think my journey was from sweet cider, to lager and lime, to lager, to bitter (a difficult step that required much practise and persistence) and then to stouts. Somewhere along the way I discovered the screwdriver - in Croydon pubs this was with vodka and neat orange squash rather than orange juice if I remember correctly. In the morning, it more often felt I had been hit with a hammer. In fact, I think my susceptibility to severe hangovers was my saving grace, it tended to put a limit of sorts on my drinking over the years, but it was certainly not an infallible safeguard.

It has not been a struggle to remain abstinent over the past 3 weeks - don't forget the sponsorship for Cancer Research UK and the promise of embarrassing photos! - because there have been other periods in my life when I was drinking at much higher levels, but it feels that I am missing out on one of the pleasures in life. A glass of wine complements my evening meal, it is warm and comforting and lovely on the palette, and  contributes to a sense of communion, in a secular way.

Alcohol Info Shots # 12
Alcohol has in common with other sedatives the ability to induce State Dependent Learning. This is the phenomenon whereby something learnt while under the influence of alcohol will be recalled from emory best when the person is in the same state (i.e. under the influence of alcohol). 

Psycho Trek

As planned, I took the train to work today to avoid the hazards of the road. I wore my lovely walking boots, to keep my feet warm and dry, and to prevent myself from slipping over. Sensible.

Exciting footwear to help me towards a mundane day. A nice juxtaposition. Hardly Tensing approaching the foothills of the Himalayas. Hardly Hillary ascending towards the sky. Hardly Captain Kirk mounting the bridge of the Enterprise. Hardly Hardy mounting....but enough. Your favourite itinerant and errant psychologist was more insipid than intrepid, more coldly going than boldly going,  to eventually arrive at a split infinitive rather than infinity.

Above all, back in the warmth of home, he remains abstinent from alcohol despite all the temptations and good reasons he has to drink this evening. I know you would love to mark this achievement by sponsoring his campaign to raise funds for Cancer Research UK. You know you want to.

It has been a busy day at work...

Third Sunday in Abstinence

It has been a quiet and lazy day, mostly looking out at the gently falling snow, more like white dust than fluffy flakes, but sufficient to cover the ground. I think I will be taking the train to work tomorrow.

No profound thoughts or insights occur to me this evening, the day has been a gentle wave that has washed over me. Abstinence has been maintained, helped by my adjustable wrench which has wrenched me away from temptation. The Third Sunday in Abstinence is traditionally set aside for contemplation on temptation. I will try to find a suitable picture for you to contemplate in place of my usual words of wit and wisdom....

Extra Mature Saturday

Two reportable moments in the supermarket this morning, a lot less crowded than usual because of the weather. Firstly, a little re-enactment of my encounter with the metal post last Sunday, as I hit a plastic warning cone head-on with my trolley. To clarify any ambiguity about the grammar of the last sentence that may lead to a misunderstanding of its meaning, the cone was not warning about plastic. In fact, I'm not sure what it was warning about because I did not see it until I had already hit it. I do think they should think twice about warnings because the process can become very reflexive and sometimes philosophically confusing (such as the motorway signs that say "This sign is not in use"). If you are mildly interested in similar observations on the quirkiness of daily life, you could do worse than visit my other blog. In truth, you could probably do better too.

Oh, despite my mild supermarket distress and embarrassment, I remain abstinent - even successful and dedicated Dryathletes have to shop. To tempt you further towards making a little contribution towards my fund-raising efforts for Cancer Research UK, here is a half-cut picture of me half-cut.

You know what you have to do to see more. OR...I could turn it around and post the whole picture UNLESS I see some more sponsorship money coming in! Now, how's that for a double-bind with an ontological twist?!

The second reportable moment came when I thought I saw a description of myself at the DELicatessen counter:

"Punchy, intense, complex, full bodied and powerful"

Sadly, it was a description of extra mature cheese. I had a little sulk and set off in search of a wedge of puerile cheese.

No Snowballs...

...or glasses of wine, sips of beer, shots of vodka for this dedicated Dryathlete, chalking up another day of abstinence in an attempt to raise funds for Cancer Research UK! You know the score - you can text PSYC99 £2 to 70070 to buy me a virtual drink on this cold night (and no network charges!) or show your support on my Just Giving page.

It was certainly a relief to get home safely this afternoon after a long slow drive back from Bedford, as I'm sure it must have been for many people today. And not noly those returning to Kettering from Bedford - I meant more generally. While a glass of wine would have been immensely enjoyable, a fitting end to the working week, a lovely hot cup of tea comes close to hitting the spot on a night like this.

The Road to Kettering

Dear followers, keep warm and sleep well.

Tang Soo Do Thursday

My life is like a precision time-piece ticking away the seconds one by one through the minutes and hours of  the well-ordered days. Regular followers of my little blog, if indeed such persons exist, will now know that Thursday evenings see me struggling with training in the traditional Korean martial art of Tang Soo Do, Derek-style, a battle between dyspraxia and gracefulness, where the former wins.

However, another day of abstinence has been achieved. So, even if you are not moved by my martial arts moves, maybe you could bring yourself to sponsor my Dryathlon venture in aid of Cancer Research UK? A glass of wine would be lovely right now, but I am denying myself this pleasure.

Woozle-free Wednesday

How lovely to see the snowy fields and the delicate lace-adorned trees coyly trying to hide in the morning mist on my very careful drive to work today. This is in contrast to the foggy conditions heading home on the M1 early this evening. All in a day's work for your favourite itinerant and errant psychologist in his hired psychomobile, less adorned with favours flying from the wing mirrors but still so earnest in his quest to banish negative thinking, the thinking person's cogknightive therapist rides again.  He has had to test a few of his little tricks on himself this week, so he knows they work. PsychoDynamo - the human generator for a generation. {Note to self - work on this a bit}.

I was tempted to stop and take some photographs, but I was running a bit late and I did not want to risk pulling in somewhere and hitting one of those cleverly disguised and cunning metal posts again. So here is one I took earlier....

Snowy Tree from Another Day and Place

Alcohol Info Shots # 11

Awash, boiled, fried, lathered, illuminated, pie-eyed, scrooched, stinko, squiffy and woozled are all terms used by P. G. Wodehouse to describe the state of inebriation.

Cars and Focal Planes

At the risk of being boring, another day of abstinence from alcohol.

I picked up my hire car this morning and they had given me an upgrade to a brand new (6 miles on the clock) Vauxhall Insignia. Push button hand-brake - which took some getting used to - and automatic lights. One nervous driver at first, travellling from Wellingborough to Biggleswade, but now feel at home in it.

That's the car bit.

I began a 6-week evening class  in digital photography today. It is something I have been looking forward to, so I can fill the gaps in my basic knowledge and explore new techniques as I get deeper into my new hobby.

Wine with a View

That's the focal planes bit.

A day of bits.

And so to sleep....

Just One Day

This has been a day of doing very little, apart from trying to sort out stuff arising from my little incident yesterday with the metal post. The garage was unable to collect the car because it had received so many requests over the weekend, so they will come tomorrow. The car hire company called me first thing to say that the car I had booked and confirmed on the internet was in fact not available, and advised me to try elsewhere. How helpful. In the end, I had to take an impromptu annual leave day and spent most of it watching strange TV quizzes I had never hard of, such as "Perfection" and "Tipping Point". I did  not sleep too well last night (hence quote below) and so got up to catch up with "Casualty" at 2.00 a.m. However, I remain abstinent, great Dryathlete that I am!

Surely there can be no doubts about my determination to succeed in this adventure, so why not risk making a donation now?! Remember, once I reach 50% of my target I will post a drunken picture of myself.

Alcohol Info Shots #10
Dom Perignon is famous for inventing the Champagne cork.

Alcohol Quotes # 2
"Basically, I'm for anything that gets you through the night - be it prayers, tranquillisers or a bottle of Jack Daniel's" [Frank Sinatra]

Second Sunday of Abstinence



St Giles, Wadenhoe

So, the second Sunday has arrived and thus far it is looking good. Need to get that sponsorship coming in though, so perhaps today's tale will help.

I have been put seriously to the test today. What started out as a late afternoon jaunt to a nearby country park for a bit of low-light photography - sun setting over the reservoir - followed by a trip to the gym (for the first time in months, so it would have been a significant event) - turned into an expensive and embarrassing encounter between my car and a metal post. Quick retreat home, shaken, in need of a drink, but otherwise unharmed. How lovely it would have been to
have had a shot of vodka, and/or a warming glass of red wine?! But no,dedicated DryAthlete that I am, I turned to a cup of tea and some emergency chocolate. Well done me. To buy me a virtual drink and support Cancer Research UK, just text PSYC99 £2 to 70070 - no network charges either!

Alcohol Info Shots # 9
The corkscrew was first patented in 1795.

And a new occasional feature...

Alcohol Quotes # 1
"During one of my treks through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. We were compelled to live on food and water for several days". [W. C. Fields, 1880 - 1946]

Second Saturday

So, here we are at the second Saturday sans alcohol, and all is well. A day spent in the usual Saturday activities of shopping and general household duties, including new tracksuit bottoms for Yoga classes I hope to start next week - or the week after at a stretch!

Oh dear, I don't think they're called tracksuits anymore. In one shop they came under "Active Wear", although I'm not sure how much activity they are actually witness to in a lot of cases.

I flushed out the bird bath on a whim this afternoon. I did not wear my active wear for this simple task. Must remember to train our garden friends to clean the bath themselves in future.

The weather is starting to get colder...

Alcohol Info Shots # 8
In the seventeenth century, brandy was used instead of mercury in thermometers.