AndyBlog

17 Sep 2012

Shock horror! Church holds Christian singing service featuring also some talk about God.

Yes, I know this sounds a little ridiculous, but it's true. Woodhorn Church, near our beloved Newbiggin, no longer functions as a working church and it's future is in some doubt. So, it being a truly remarkable building, the "Friends of Woodhorn Church" we're formed as an active group looking to find positive ongoing uses for the grade one listed building that would guarantee its use and safety in the years to come.

These last ten days have featured some of the most successful events yet. The concert a week last Saturday was a triumph, featuring five great singing acts and yesterday's 'Songs of Praise' was, in effect, the closing ceremony for an awesome flower festival.

I had the honour of playing the piano for this sell-out event and I was blown away to see the church packed to the rafters. More literally than you might imagine.

If you're in the Ashington area and are not involved on any level with this project, you really are missing out on a uniquely good thing. I'm so glad I have the health and strength to play my part.

The best woman for the job was a man*

I had become aware, over the last few months, that my flat had succombed to untidiness.**

In a defiant and unbending effort to get it cleaned up, and in acknowledgement that under no circumstances whatsoever was I ever going to get up close and personal with the stuff on the floor (It's just too far away, darnit), I decided my only alternative was to ask for help.

Knowing my financial options were desperately limited, I knew I was going to have to ask someone who may start the job for money, but was destined to finish the other 98% out of some sort of pity for the state the place was in and maybe my own general lack of ability in the mobility department.

I made the call. So, after some further muted discussions today was decided upon as the day of destiny for my filthy abode. The door duly opened at the assigned time of three-past-ten in the morning and, after a few final expletives - breathed out in an awed voice as the full extent of the job made itself known to their eyes and nose, the work began in something approaching silence.

I lay, experiencing a feeling of complete rubbishness, as the silent minister went about his*** work. I dozed, once more awoke in a kind of stupor, and discerned the scream opf a vacuum cleaner at work. More dozing. A female voice. Bathroom fan...light....dark, Fan off. Silence.

More silence.

The flat felt empty.

I risked a chink of door open. No-one around. I risked everything**** and strode out into the hallway. Clean. Handles, clean. Stain on wall, clean. Switches, clean. Kitchen floor CLEAN! Washing up - DONE!!! Kitchen tidied, but not too much. Here was someone who knew how to respect an important mess pile. Lounge, vacuumed, dusted - CLEAN! Important man-piles respected. 

In short, the stuff that needed cleaning and tidying was done, but the important technical stuff had been left alone. I have never seen cleaning done so sensitively to the needs of a man such as me. The place is now a delight to be in, and my heart is full of gratitude. Really full.

I am hopeful that maybe, just maybe, I can tempt this same outfit back to repeat their work before it gets to be so bad again, thus enabling the work to be much more less un-easy.

Now I can look forward to welcoming people to the house group at my flat tonight. Now there's an event I love. :-)

Big thank to person.*****

_{*As far as I can work out, I didn't actually see anyone.}

_{** This, subject to a definition of "untidiness" which includes large piles of assorted stuff strewn pretty much everywhere, filthy carpets, a hay-strewn guinea-pig and a kitchen which would have caused the entire locality to be cleared by the military had they been aware of the molecular and radiation risk involved.}

_{*** Again, as far as I can ascertain. Infact, I will always call them "he", even though I cannot be absolutely sure. Essentially, it's easier this way and if it wasn't a he then my title becomes completely redundant. Wrong, even.}

_{**** Yes, I mean EVERYTHING. :-)}

_{***** You know who you are. (both?)}

The 2012 Olympics get started

After seven years of hype, worry, work, controversy and planning we finally made it to opening night for the Olympics this year in the UK - Ooops, GB as we must now refer to ourselves. 

My overwhelming sentiment is one of pleasure, seeing so many people talking positively about the games. I hear people being excited and thrilled that we are hosting such a mammoth event. I heard a family expressing that the tickets were cheap compared to the cost of taking the family abroad to a games elsewhere and THEN buying expensive tickets as well.

We do cynicism so well in GB, I think it is exactly the right time to lose that, at least for a while, and be proud of what we are achieving, and proud of the huge amount of people who have worked so hard to make it happen.

Well done GB!

18 Jul 2012

It's my birthday! ( and I will cry if I want to )

Here am I at Jason's house enjoying the company of several people, most of whom seem perfectly lovely.

I haven't yet worked out how old I am, but I figure I have a whole year for that sort of thing.

Thanks again to everyone who has wished a happy birthday to me, I really appreciate it.

15 Jul 2012

Andy: 13

Flies: 0

13 Jul 2012

13 Jul 2012

In the rather strangely named "Dr. Syntax" pub, Soul Doubt are preparing to play. The gear is set up and we're all here to celebrate the leaving of Paul, our trumpeter, for China - wherein he is set to teach.

I wish him all good fortune and fulfilment in this amazing endeavour. I am in awe of his bravery and whatever else it takes to utterly uproot oneself to a spectacularly foreign country, as China definitely is.

For tonight, we will converse, play music and eat - trying not to think of missed opportunities, paths not taken and dreams unfulfilled.

Mine's a large Diet Coke please, Paul.

13 Jul 2012

Then, just as all hope had been lost, outside and beyond the woodpile, something stirred.

I Still Love You

I think I'm fairly safe in saying that I am presently going through a very difficult time in my life. This has kinda paralysed me and prevented me from blogging. For those of you who used to like keeping up with my wibblings, I am very sorry.

I do not intend to promise a full return to normal blogging levels as of now, because I'd hate to set myself up to fail. I do have some ideas - quite a lot of ideas that I had hoped to share with you all. I would like to think that I can now start to poke my head over the parapet at a more manageable level of regularity.

Be well blogland. I think I still love you.

The Crying Boy

I remember sitting there at the end of my drive, trying to work out why I could not go on the bike ride with my sister and father. I had a bike, I wanted a ride - why exclude me? It was all so unfair. I cried buckets that night, although I was not really sure what the immense outpouring of grief was about. Deep down I knew the reasons I was excluded. I was only five years old, whereas my sister was eight. I only had a little tricycle - whereas she had a proper two-wheeled bike. So why the sadness? Even as I wondered this, I felt a kind of warmth come over me. I thought it must be God come to comfort me - finally I slept.

All I can say here is that there were reasons. There always are. They were the same reasons when three years later I again cried and cried. We were home after a long trip away and I was unwell. Instead of just going to bed and dealing with it - I sat on the toilet and cried loudly. This was the first time since the last time I spoke of. I didn't cry often in a load and attention grabbing way. I was going full bore - deep guttural screams and cries from a child who was in despair. Once again, finally, the warmth came - like an angel to console me. I crept through to my bedroom and enjoyed the virus more conventionally from then onwards.

On both these occasions it was as if all the sadness of all the years ran right through me. I cried inconsolably, as if the world would end if I stopped crying. I also cried in the hope my parents would see what was wrong and set it right. As it was, well... that was not going to happen. I felt so dirty, like it was all my fault as well - I had wanted to let it all out in one massive sorrowful and regretful cry. Maybe God would hear me and forgive me, at least. I knew I was not fit to be the Christian I was told I had to be.

I think of him often these days - that sad and frightened little boy. It's not difficult, because he still lives deep inside me. Still sad - still scared of what the world might do to him. Scared to truly exercise his power lest he lose those he loves, or who he thinks he loves. Unsure of what love truly means, because those who say they love him the most, do him the worst harm.

Now, all that is gone now. My sick and unstable family unit has been shut down for good, but somehow the damage remains for us all. We try to see each other sometimes and be polite - try to show we care, and we do... It just never really works out. I probably sound like I am all grounded and sorted now - that I have worked through my demons. I tell you the truth, if anyone with big issues truly looks inside themselves and tries to sort things out, all it does for a very long time is make things worse. The lid is taken off the raging furnace and we glance down as our eyebrows are singed clean off. Shut down? As a unit maybe, but the memories remain. The feeling of being misdirected, cheated and interfered with never quite goes away.

I watched Ashes to Ashes today - 3 episodes. All set in the 1980s. My time. The time when I was young and when I had options. A time when I could have prevented the worst things that happened in my life. I could have waited before getting married - avoided my first big life hurdle. Who knows what else might have changed then?

Then I realised how stupid such talk is - and it is as stupid for you as it is for me. We cannot change ourselves by changing events. The cast of characters might have been different, but we would have affected them and they us in similar ways. What really counts is what we do NOW. This is our big chance. It is never all lost - never all bleak. Goodness, the memories hurt and the strains tell, but right now we can actually tinker with history, even if it is just a little bit. As soon as now passes, our chance is gone.

For myself, I can go back in my mind to 1970 and hear myself crying those awful tears. I never realised this before but someone /can/ hear them - echoing through the years. Me. Again in 1973, I can hear them again, just as clearly. I can listen to what my own younger self is trying so desperately to tell me and yes, I can offer him some comfort. In my wildest dreams, I would like to believe that the beautiful warmth I felt back then was me eventually realising my own needs and taking steps to meet them. Caring for myself at last.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, apart from this being a blog, and it's kinda my call how emotionally indulgent I am, there is a more altruistic reason. Is there a message you left yourself in your own memories? What did you do, what happened? What can you do now to meet the needs of your own frightened youngster. They may need your help. Maybe then your memories will subtly change and you, too, with have a memory of a beautiful warmth coming to you at your bleakest moments.

Either that, or you missed the start of your favourite program through reading this. Sorry.

Cold Comfort Shirt

I'm wearing my comfort shirt today - you know the one. It has holes in it, and it's way too big, even for me. Over the years it has gotten thin, and it seems to offer little warmth to me today. Inside it, I can feel myself trembling as I face the reality of the time ahead.

The last three weeks have been a time of heaven - of haven - for me. It has been a time of hope, of healing and of self discovery. An important time on every level I can think of, and probably every level that I can't. It's like the scales have fallen from my eyes and I have finally seen something that I should have seen years ago. Many years ago.

In short, it has been fantastic - I would struggle to conjure up sufficient superlatives to fully satisfy the feeling in my heart - either for the wonderfulness of her being here, or for the devastatingness of her being gone. My spell checker tells me that there is no such word as ”devastatingness“ - well, there should be, and there is now. It's as if my happiness is encased in a massive chunk of ice in front of me. I can see it, and observe it in almost every way - I just can't touch it and properly engage with it again.

I'm wearing my comfort shirt today, but it is not working. Maybe I'm spelling it wrong. Here, let me try again:

”chert“

...well, nearly.

Suddenly... Winter

...and then it snowed.

From empty streets when entering the dentists to these lively flurries moments later.

I never fail to be in awe of the weather, and it's ability to totally change a scene in minutes. Not just the looks, but also the danger level.

I have to return to the dentists at 5pm. Mmmm.... Might leave some time to clear the car.

Maybe all this is special to me because I am rarely out these days.

Happy snow, everyone.

Evaporated Milk and Mandarins

I've just had something to eat that I have not had for years. I wonder if you can guess what it is?

It brought back memories of early childhood tea-time's - Sunday evenings and one very naughty Monday morning. Smashing.

Thank you Carnation - and thank you to hat we used to lovingly call “Evap”. I just /know/ that if I had to explain it to someone who knew not of it, I would gross them out.

Food really does bring back memories...very vividly.

Divorcee

To be fair, I did toy briefly with “Bachelor” and, for an even more briefly'er moment “Gay Divorcee” - but I decided that for overall honesty and to avoid possible misconceptions “Divorcee” was very much the way to go here.

I make this post in order to state the blindingly obvious - so obvious is it that you may well groan - but I say it because the reality of it is what has become true to me over the past few weeks.

It is simply this - when one is on one's own, noting happens unless one, one's-self, does it.

Obvious, yes?

Yet I wonder... how many husbands are used to quietly taking credit for a house presented by their wives. How many spouse's quietly take credit for a meal cooked by their opposite number. It is the “family unit” that takes the plaudits. When that family unit is just one - and the one is a woman, a fairly high standard of cleanliness and tidiness is assumed. When that one is a man - no matter how hard he tries, he is judged by how different it is to how a woman might keep hers. I have even heard it said that this place now lacks “a woman's touch”. Frankly, I resent that - because I'm practically gay, apart from the sexuality thing.

I know exactly what I want to do with the place - I am just too poor and too darned lazy to do it. These are the real facts. Nothing happens unless I make it happen. No washing is done, no pots are cleaned, no surfaces are wiped.

I may never rise to “He keeps his place nice!” - but I am becoming aware that “He hasn't let it slide too bad...” is just about on the cards.

I shall get used to it eventually.

Great Christmas!

...quiet Christmas.

I never made it down to Jac's for Christmas Day festivities. So sad. I just could not drive today - didn't make it down the stairs even. I took extra pain killers to get me through the night and they rendered me unfit in a driving kind of a way.

I had a nice Christmas meal with someone strangely familiar - and then another Christmas meal with my colleagues from the Arts Forum Committee. I feel so guilty going out with these people - they work tirelessly for the AF and I do all but nothing, whilst arguably having the most time on my hands. I guess that is the sad irony of depression.

Today has ended up as strange a Christmas as I have ever had. Spent, in most part, completely on my own. Many thanks to Jason for supplying me with a Christmas dinner fit for a King - or someone very important indeed - maybe Simon Cowel or something.

Here's hoping you had a special time and I wish you every good thing over these Christmas Holidays. Me? Oh, I am interested to see what I'll do in 2009.

Buffet Food...

Here's how to get the great British buffet aftertaste without the expense

...without the party.

We all love the feeling of having been at a wonderful British buffet over the Christmas period. They're wonderful, aren't they? Well, without going to all the expense of either driving to one - or, let's face it, managing to get invited to one.

OK, so here's how.

As pictures - get pickled onions, peanuts and cheese.

1) Take a bite of onion
2) Take a bit of cheese
3) Grab some nuts and “sprinkle” them into your mouth
4) Chew and subsequently swallow

Now then - now, and only now...can you taste it? Close your eyes, imagine it - YES you're at a fairly poor church or youth club organised party, aren't you? Man. Takes me back.

If you don't like onions - try substituting pineapple chunks. Works just as well.

This tip brought to you by Andy®

Christmas Greetings, and stuff...

I awoke today to the smell of autumn, but with the unmistakeable chill of Winter in the air. This evening, it could easily have been bonfire night, but for the crispness. The air was full of moisture and it was almost magical the way the lights in the street were etched out, each with their own misty glow. I started to think about what to give people this year or Christmas. This lead me along the path of thinking about people.

Thinking about it - I do know some great people. I will not be making much of a show of Christmas this year, but I do, nonetheless, wish everyone a great holiday time - and I look forward heartily to the celebrations I shall be enjoying. Seeing as this is my first Christmas away from Liz - it will be a little muted, but that is only right and fitting.

The only thought I would proffer - in terms of advice this Christmas - is “Try to remember that Christmas is far more about people than it is about things.”

You can have what you think of as your best ever Christmas with a can of beans and four slices of bread. Heck, that kind of paucity makes a time like Christmas unbelievably good. How many times have you had such wonderful presents for people that you were convinced they would bring happiness - only to be surprised and somewhat crestfallen when the gifts were received with only moderate approval? Have you ever laid on a tremendous banquet for your visitors - only to be let down that the night was not a success? I have. I often try too hard at entertaining - over-provide food, embarrass people with too much “stuff” of all kinds.

When things truly succeed is when my heart is in the right place - when I am not in a state - when I can welcome people with a real genuine smile.

So - what's your best piece of Christmas advice for us all to relish?

Good Turnout

That's it really... Just loads people here at the gig. :-)

Christmas Party #1

Here we are at Hexham cricket club getting ready to happy the people of Hexham. I'm not on the mood for this gig -but I think I'm going to enjoy it.

Music has a way of lifting my spirits lile nothing else can. I welcome that a lot. Plus it gives me a chance to post something here. Usually, little happens to me these days.

I don't rate my chances of making it to church in the morning...

Tech Support Funnies

Having worked at one time in computer tech support, these funnies have a particular access to my inner thingies. I hope they make the more smug amongst you smile.

[With grateful thanks to "Within the Crainium"]

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Customer: I have problems printing in red.
Tech support: Do you have a color printer?
Customer: Aaaah... thank you.

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Customer: My keyboard is not working anymore.

Tech support: Are you sure it's plugged into the computer?

Customer: No. I can't get behind the computer.

Tech support: Pick up your keyboard and walk 10 paces back.

Customer: OK

Tech support: Did the keyboard come with you?

Customer: Yes

Tech support: That means the keyboard is not plugged in. Is there another keyboard?

Customer: Yes, there's another one here. Ah... this one does work.

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Customer: Can't get on the Internet.
Tech support: Are you sure you used the right password?
Customer: Yes, I'm sure. I saw my colleague do it.
Tech support: Can you tell me what the password was?
Customer: Five stars.

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[OK, this one was the one that made me laugh out loud...for some reason...]

Tech support: What anti-virus program do you use?
Customer: Netscape.
Tech support: That's not an anti-virus program.
Customer: Oh, sorry... Internet Explorer.

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