Busy Day In A Busy Week In A Busy Month

It has genuinely been a little… overwhelming since the turn of the year. I knew we were coming back to lots of work. I didn’t quite expect how much.

I write waiting for a train to leave. A baby train with only 2 carriages. But thankfully it hasn’t started in London so it’s not so full. I’m on my way home, on a journey that started two hours ago which has been elongated due to that usual weekend nonsense, the engineering works. Deep joy.

Today I’ve been installing a new computer at the home of one of our business clients. They are hard work at the best of times, but there is enough value In it to justify the day being ruined on a Saturday. I left the house just after 7am and expect to be back at 9pm. Fortunately the client very kindly paid for an evening meal at a pub, such was their gratefulness at me devoting the whole day to them.

Of course, the day didn’t start so well when I arrived to discover I had left behind a vital item. A one hour delay later, I returned with the necessary USB stick. It went smoothly after then, except for the client not knowing passwords, etc. Then the mass of emails to be sorted. All very dull and predictable. We know in our game that when we think we have finished, that’s the point you add on another 2-3 hours, and sure enough if happened today.

i feel fairly ok though. I think the reason is that getting to this point has been my focus for some time. The past three weeks were already pretty full, and then they got even busier. Thank you Windows 7 and Microsoft for generating lots of extra work! But it has been one scheduled day of madness after another, and when days are already scheduled to be full, that’s when the phone rings and catastrophe is guaranteed. I’ve had a few of those of late, feeling utterly harangued by endless interruptions, double calls, voicemails and call backs. It’s brain spinning, and then you look at the Fitbit, realise it’s nearly lunch time (1pm) and you still haven’t had that wee you were thinking about at 11am, let alone made yourself a coffee. It’s horrible.

So knowing this period of madness is all but over is a great relief. It’s going to be busy next week too, but the major obstacle is over, and that gives my poor brain some feeling that recovery is imminent.

Meanwhile, the train plunders on, cutting through our completely signal-bereft countryside, demonstrating how poor our country’s infrastructure still is, 10 years after I realised this on my first train journeys back and forth between Home and Other Home. We like to think of ourselves as a clever and advanced country. We aren’t. And that will never change while we keep voting for muppets.

But keeping busy stops me from thinking about all that shit. And, just like I always say, I don’t have to like people to take their money from them. In fact, the Torier the better. Tory surcharge? Yes please. They can go and fund my very own private infrastructure projects instead.

There’s Never A Good Time

Over the Christmas break, as ties with my family began to grow stronger again, I began to feel like it might soon be a good time to finally be honest with them and do the horrible task of admitting my sexuality/nature of the relationship with J.

In all honesty I’m sure they know… maybe. Mum and Dad seem like they might not know. I reckon my siblings know. They wouldn’t care. I don’t think my mum and dad would either, but it might still be a little surprise to them. Me and J have done what I think is a pretty good job of being very distant at home. In fact, it all comes a bit too easily to me. Worryingly so.

But there is never a good time to come out. There is never a good time to interrupt everyone watching Coronation Street and say, “oh by the way, I’m a screaming bender!”. There’s never a good time to gather everyone together for a family meeting, because a) that’s lame; b) everyone would be suspicious; c) actually, logistically, it is totally impossible.

There is just never a good time. What is one supposed to do? I have no intention of doing this again and again with my family. It’s agonising enough as it is. I want it to be a one off, done, dusted, forgotten about. I don’t want it to be memorable in any way. I don’t want people thinking about it for years. It really isn’t important to them.

So the thought has come to my head that I will do it in writing. It all seems a bit dramatic, but it also removes the emotion. It allows me to structure exactly what I want to say, without interruption, get it all over in one fell swoop, and not be available for questions. Because this isn’t a discussion, or a debate. I feel I owe them all an explanation, so I will give them some detail, but – also – I don’t want them to keep it. I don’t want them to see it as something to put in the memories box. No. It is to be shredded after reading.

Even this plan is difficult. If I post a letter, I will be in utter anxious agony until it arrives and is read. Days of waiting. And what if it arrives at the worst possible moment? What if something stupid happens, like illness, and reading the letter makes things worse? And who does the letter get sent to? Do I send one to everyone? Nightmare, reading all at different times.

So then I thought – how about a special WhatsApp group? Could be. That gets it over with quickly, and even gives a mini forum for people to respond. And as everyone’s together, they can’t be too critical. It’s very modern. But is it treating it right? What if one person reads it, then calls the other, who hasn’t read it yet? My thought was also rescinding the message once it’s been read so people can’t keep it, but I don’t think that’s possible.

Then there’s the complication, I would be outing J as well. So my thought was that we have to do this together. Therefore I have to involve him in writing the letter. Painful.

I am guessing they’re more likely to think J is gay because of the way he is. He’s more… camp isn’t the right word, but he has a very soft personality. He comes across as a bit limp, and I often worry that when we’re in public his behaviour can draw too much attention to two fellas sitting in a McDonalds drinking coffee. I value my physical safety, not something I’ve usually ever been worried about, but since being “gay” I have increasingly become concerned. But I digress.

But then when should I send this message? Evening, weekend, when people have more time? Or should I rush it out during the day so that people will read it and forget about it and get back to work? And should I tailor it? A different one for mum and dad, a different one for the siblings? Do I get mum to tell the rest of the family for me, because, frankly, who can be bothered with that shit? What a palaver.

What a truly horrible moment this is. People talk about how it’s liberating to reveal the truth, and I’m sure that once we have this bollocks over I will feel more comfortable, and will finally be able to allow parents/family to visit (not that there’s much to visit), so logistics and stuff will get better. Things will get easier. I think. I am making the assumption we will be accepted. I’m sure we will. We’re a modern progressive family, right?

But I’m not planning on changing. I don’t intend to, when with mum and dad, sit next to J and cuddle up on the couch, like I would in my own home. No. That’s just lame. I don’t want to shove this in people’s faces. I hate it when anyone does that, of any disposition. Mega kisses in the public, touching each other up, it’s crass. There’ll be none of that. In fact, I don’t think I want to behave any differently with them. It’s not that I’m ashamed, I would be exactly the same with a member of the opposite sex. It’s just not appropriate.

Time to get it over with. Is this what 2020 is for? Is that what I was sort of getting at in the previous post?

But then, disaster struck. I thought, well, we’ve had a good Christmas, and I’ve left, and am safely back home. How about now, when there’s the maximum time before I go back, and J won’t be there either for some time? So yeah. I need to discuss it with J to get the ball rolling.

J then succumbs to a chest infection. A whole week of coughing fits, zero sleep and terrible energy levels.

There’s never a good time to come out.





What a decade. We break life up into chunks as it’s easier to digest as a human, and the quirks of our psychology for liking convenient round numbers. So it feels like a real milestone…

I remember the last major milestone. I don’t remember the one to 2010. I do remember 2000. I was at a party with family and feeling very awkward about the female attention I was receiving. There were family around and it didn’t seem appropriate. With hindsight I do wonder, but I also know I was definitely attracted to girls, and still am to some extent. Anyway…

But here we are. The Millennium now a distant memory. The idea that we were entering into the future was exciting as a 15 year old fascinated by technology. There was something magical about that huge calendar change, and I felt really lucky to be alive at such a time.

In reality, however, each calendar thrown into the bin is no different to the last. And just because I happen to have binned 10 in a row, there’s nothing different going to happen. So I remain entirely cynical about new decades meaning new phases in life for people, the country or the planet. In truth, it’s too late to save the latter, and we’re all quite chuffed about it (see Donald Trump’s stubbornly high poll ratings, or the UK’s election of a clown).

I woke this morning from a minor very small gathering of family. It had someone there who I hadn’t seen since they were 6. They are now 18. What a way to remind you how scarily short life is. My immediate family were there and my Nan too. It was nice to see them all, as always, but I fear for all our futures. I wouldn’t want to be young these days.

So every year, having suddenly got really old, I now make the same hopes and semi-predictions for the year, that we all navigate it safely, and somehow have our lives improved for it. My parents are suffering with health issues, and my Nan very much so. Even the dog, which is now as old as the hills, surely this year is her last?

My nephews, all of them, have their own ways. They are crazy, even the oldest one, at the grand old age of 20, and I have no idea how the younger ones will survive this horrible planet once they come of age. The older one is already showing them how not to do it though, so perhaps they’ll learn quickly…

As for myself, after last year’s spectacular prediction failure I don’t want to say anything. But – with my joining of a certain political party at the last stroke of the year – maybe this year will be a highly charged year. I haven’t really got any interest in attending events, and I am perpetually terrified of campaigning, so I don’t think it’s for me. But I like to think I might chip in somewhere. I’m trying to be optimistic, when in reality I know it will all end in disaster, like all politics.

What else can I say? I hope that somehow me and J can repair the damage done last year. We seem to be often at odds over the slightest things, and I swear I am losing some of my own comprehension abilities. I blame work but I’m sure I could pay more attention at times.

So perhaps that’s a good one to end on. Try to pay more attention when people are speaking to me; try not to drift off and hope it will all work out in the end as recent experience is telling me otherwise. Let’s aim for fewer misunderstandings, and try to communicate more clearly. Don’t assume that just because I know what I want to say that others do. It’s a bad habit I have, and I then get annoyed with them and myself when the inevitable conflict occurs.

Overnight I had a stressful dream. I was back in my secondary school, desperately trying to find a classroom for my next lesson and not being able to do so. I was carrying lots of books and they were all heavy and I just wanted to find it. Eventually I arrived at the Spanish room and found they had doors on them that said they wouldn’t open unless you were having a simple conversation in Spanish. I did so and inside was my old Spanish teacher who did his usual sarcastic wave. I wasn’t looking for that classroom and carried on walking through.

I then woke up. I’m not sure what it was all about, but either way it felt like I was trapped. Wondering aimlessly with a destination in mind but no way of getting there.

Sounds familiar. And that will be the story of the decade.