Retirement thoughts

Now that we’re all middle-aged, there’s the lingering prospect of all the good stuff that you hear about but don’t get to experience until you reach a certain part of your life. Want some examples? How about pains in parts of your body that don’t make any sense (“I never use my little finger so why does it feel as though a lynx is trying to slash its way out of it?”), confusion when entering a room (“wait, wait… I was here to find the… banana, was it?”) or perhaps feeling out of touch in every possible way (“when did people stop using Netscape?”).

It’s inevitable. Though we may joke about being right on the fashions, it’s been some time since I was anywhere near the fashions; I’m barely in the same postcode let alone being right on them. Sigh. Can’t be helped.

There’s no time to sit and ruminate on how unnatural it feels looking through a Reddit post or ask why everyone dancing on Tiktok is going to destroy the human race, there’s so much to do before then. I’ve got to pay off the mortgage first, which means working until I’m probably in my 70’s given that the retirement age keeps going up. There’s also raising my second child (I’m reliably to blame for that one) which is about to begin any day now. Oh, and I still haven’t finished the garden. I think the gooseberry bush is dead.

When the weight of responsibility gets on top of me, I drive a hundred miles out of my way and stop to look at this view. Why? Because one day, I am going to buy it and build my dream home on it.

Now I know what you’re thinking and, you’re right, it is very small. Too small in fact. You have to think outside the box because otherwise your dreams will never come true. The Japanese have been getting by with very tiny pod or capsule hotels for years now. Here’s how it’s going to look:

The bedroom or, more accurately, the standing bed. I think it’s asking too much for the entire building my house will stacked against to turn 90 degrees to the right so that I can have a flat surface, so I will have to get used to sleeping standing up. I’ll nail the pillow to the wall and utilise a slim sleeping bag for maximum space efficiency.
The toilet or, more accurately, the cereal box in the corner. Nothing else will be able to fit in that space except perhaps an A5 lever arch file, and I can hardly three w’s in that now, can I? It’d go everywhere.
The sitting area or, more accurately, the only space left to do anything. I don’t know where all my video games are going to go. I guess I’ll have to put them in storage unless by the year 2055 I’ll have super cool VR goggles where I can play them all using my brain impulses so I can probably lie in my “bed” and play them there, leaving the sitting area for entertaining guests. A snug flat screen TV in the top left-hand corner, a kettle for hot bevs and a shoebox as a coffee table? It’s all coming together.

I’ve got it all planned out. It’s going to look incredible. The only problem is where Vikki and the baby are going to go. I guess I’ll have to purchase the flat on the other side so they can stay there.

That’ll work. For sure.

County Durham review

Until this summer County Durham was not a place I had ever really been. It sits between Yorkshire, where I have spent literally years of my life, and the rest of the North East, where I have been many times. County Durham was a place I passed through to get between them. Before August, my total experience of County Durham can be summed up like this:

Passing through on the A1 between junctions 59 and 64, multiple times.
Passing through on the A19 between Sheraton and Seaham, multiple times.
Passing through on the train between Darlington and Chester-le-Street, four times.
Going to Burger King at Washington Services, which is no longer part of the administrative county but is within the traditional and ceremonial borders of County Durham, twice.

Earlier this month I arrived for a three-day stay (which I am certain counts as a “sojourn”, a term I reserve the right to use again later in this post) to soak up the County Duhamian atmosphere, basing myself in Barnard Castle. I am now ready to present my second ever county review.

Activities

While in County Durham I visited two waterfalls, walked along an extremely picturesque river, saw a ruined abbey, Roman remains, a big chimney in the middle of some woods and a really good castle. I also witnessed an almost overwhelming quantity of scenery while travelling.

I give County Durham four stars for activities.

****

Accommodation

We stayed in a very nice cottage next to the river, with the sound of running water outside at all times, in a way that was nice rather than annoying. It had more bedrooms than we could use, a spiral staircase, a massive designer fridge and two monsoon showers. I didn’t really want to leave and got into an argument when the owner tried to get their keys back.

I give County Durham five stars for accommodation.

*****

Food and drink

I was able to maintain my usual habit of eating three times a day without difficulty, and the food I ate was almost all very good. I had chips on multiple occasions and Big Frank, travelling with me, had sandwiches with a side of gravy two days running. However, we forgot to buy breakfast one day so the next morning we had to have grapes and coffee.

I give County Durham four stars for food.

****

Conclusion

My sojourn to County Durham has earned it a total of thirteen stars. This is one more than Derbyshire, which has held the title of “best county” for three years, and which now moves into second place. As these are the only two counties that have been rated, County Durham is now officially the best county and Derbyshire is simultaneously the second best and also the worst.

Thank you for your time.

Your new favourite blank

Okay, hear me out.

You want to make a statement. You’ve been living in your house for a while now and it’s getting a bit drab. You’re tired of looking at the same old bits of furniture. What you need is a bit of something something to make the living room sparkle.

You need a focal point, a conversation starter, one of those magical items that nobody else has. You need people to walk into your living room or dining room and be so stunned by what’s there that they are putty in your hands.

You can’t buy the kind of shock value this piece will give you. It’s one-of-a-kind, it’s classy and it’s sassy, and it’s in stock right now. I can give you the deets and you can swing by to pick it up in a few hours. You can’t say fairer than that.

Future prospects

When I was a kid, I was surrounded by computers. My dad and brother were obsessed with them, so much so that the latter’s attic bedroom had about a third of it taken up with a desk where two or three computers would permanently sit. We had the good ole BBC, the Archimedes, and sometimes on special occasions the ZX Spectrum would make an appearance.

All I wanted to do was play games. I would make my brother load up something on the BBC and I would play for five minutes until my character inevitably died, then insist on another game. I was never interested in anything to do with programming. I do remember seeing screens of random numbers and wondering what it all meant. Little baby Ian clearly was more concerned with Frogger crossing the road.

I did, however, teach myself to type. Not proper touch typing, I learned to wing it and give myself enough to get by. It is one of the things I’m glad I did practise so as not to be one of those people who must type each letter individually and it takes them 800 years to write a single email. I gave up on the instrument from primary school music class (might have been a French horn, memory is fuzzy) but not typing.

On occasion I see something that makes me want to take a step further, to better myself in the unsure landscape that is the 21st century. Could I do better? Of course I could, I could be like Kev with all his wireless abbababs, throwing them at fictional servers or whatever it is he does all day. If I could really get into something IT-based then it would need to be something important. It would need to be something that would help to make the world a better place. It would have to be what everyone needs and not enough people have.

Then I saw it. I saw it and I had to have it. A new day is dawning.

Plopping into 2025

It’s a cold and windy night.

A lot of people may be cancelling their plans. A lot of people may double down and go out regardless because when you’re drunk on New Year’s Eve you don’t really care about much except where your next drink is coming from.

I am choosing to have a quiet one. My rowdy days are way behind me and I would much prefer sitting at home to anything outside.

There were several photos that I was considering to upload as my last post of the year but this one stood out the most. It speaks to all of us on some level, offering advice and guidance. It also points to the future like a bright beacon illuminating the darkness.

I don’t think I need to add anything else.

Smell well, boys, smell well.

Le Soulier d’une Vie

(The Shoe of a Lifetime) A French Arthouse film

In a small, forgotten quarter of Paris, an unremarkable alley harbours a peculiar sight: a solitary shoe resting atop a weathered bin. This seemingly mundane object becomes the focal point of a poetic journey in Le Soulier d’une Vie.

As the seasons change, we witness fleeting moments from the lives of the residents who cross paths with the shoe. There’s Élodie, a dancer grappling with the loss of her passion; Pierre, an aging baker reminiscing about his long-lost love; and Léon, a young boy with an unyielding curiosity. The shoe, a silent witness, absorbs their dreams, secrets, and sorrows.

Through a tapestry of vignettes, the film delves into themes of impermanence, connection, and the beauty found in the mundane. Shot with a delicate hand and a lyrical eye, Le Soulier d’une Vie is a melancholic, yet hopeful reflection on the fragments of life that unite us all.

‘Skon På Papperskorgen’

The new film by acclaimed Swedish film director, Sherburt Bergmun.

‘Skon På Papperskorgen’ (‘The Shoe on the Bin’). What begins as a seemingly innocent piece of footwear dangling on top of a waste receptacle soon turns into the calling card of a madman.

Police inspector Kalle Alexander is called to the scene of a crime where the body of a young man lies dead. Nearby a note attached to one singular shoe atop a bin speaks of cataclysmic actions and further deaths in the future. He has very little to go on but after ten years in the job, he’s more than ready and prepared to get started.

He has a drinking problem, he smokes too much, he can’t make connections with anyone and leads a solitary life since his wife ran off with the local chemist. There’s a cat from a neighbouring flat who may well be his only friend.

When you’re faced with life and death though, friends are the last thing that you need. Kalle will find himself both in the firing line and gripping the trigger as he chases leads down in the most disgusting and darkest recesses of the city: he’ll scour every shoe shop, browse every Etsy listing in the surrounding area and he’ll even make his explosive presence known at the shoe factory downtown.

Alfred Binko (the award-winning actor of ‘Get up, Get off’ and ‘The Room around the Curtains’) stars in a career-defining role alongside veteran character actors Klaudia Shinn (‘Carry on, Mr. Scrappenberg’), Veronika Graaten (‘Solitary Mammals’) and Dhillon Ratiz (‘A Man for Many Flowers’). Ably abetted by the deft and kinetic cinematography of Shalein Tracker and a plump orchestral score by Gérard Picko, ‘The Shoe on the Bin’ is a modern Scandinavian classic that will show you the heart of darkness that can lie within the wonderland of everyday menace.

Support of the pink jacket rabbit

Oh, how these thirty days have been punishing upon my legs and upon my brow. I have sought thus the goal of running a mile and a hundred in order to furnish those without with the ability to smite the evil. It has been long and I have sweated more than any man should. I have sweated more than any two men should, and showering every day has been a massive burden.

When my troubles did besmirch me, when my woes did overwhelm me, how did I manage to keep going? Those darker moments whence all the light is sucked away from the day and all you are left with is the end in the distance that leaps further and further away from your grasp. How could I keep going?

I would look to the sky, nay, to the universe above and remember that all things must pass and I, too, would soon reach the finishing line. Who was cheering me on? My girlfriend, my family, my friends, some even that were unbeknownst to me. For when browsing the shops last week did I chance upon a little beacon of hope who has been with me in spirit the entire time.

If you ever find yourself in a similar position, if you ever doubt upon your abilities or capabilities at the job within your hands, think on my friend and he will keep you on track.

Pouring
Beans

Category: Inspiring