Last year my World fell apart, as December drew to a close, and after a visit to Morocco, metaphorically speaking the world fell out of my bottom. Food poisoning – sometimes life truly is a sh1t.
It was a crescendo, a finale of epic proportion, I figured in some sort of way this was Nature expelling any last vestige of the old, I wouldn’t recommend it as a practice, but by God it gives new meaning to the phrase out with the old………..
So now, a few Days into January and after “Mustapha’s Revenge” I am finally getting to grips with the new year.
At the weekend I woke at stupid o’clock, I began to do the ironing, 17 shirts to be ironed, 17 of the Fuc*ers, that was just the washed ones, then a large laundry basket more to be washed then ironed. I spend far too much of my time complaining about having to iron, if I spent less time talking about it and more time doing it the problem would go away, that or I take the advice of a friend, “Get a beautiful Brazilian in to do your housework”.
Now that’s an idea, that’s a really good idea, the problem though is I think of my mother, I can hear her voice now, “ That Martin, more money than sense, I will do your ironing if you pay me, I wont charge as much as a cleaner” that’s what she would say, either way I would feel ashamed, oh hell I am still worried what my mother would think of me, she’s been dead for six years………………… But then again a sexy Brazilian, she would understand me going for that option? I am haunted by the sceptre of being middle class, reading the Daily Mail, please don’t let me be middle class, please anything but that.
The last few years I made no resolutions, no promises to myself at New Year, I decided resolutions were ridiculous, only for people with stuff to sort out, the I must lose weight/exercise/stop smoking/get out more people, no, I didn’t need to do that, I was better than that, I was fine.
Now I come to think of it, perhaps that was just a wee little sign that I should have clocked, if I had taken the time to look at myself. Another pointer had I thought about it, a few years ago I was given a rather lovely Smythson notebook, on the front it had in gold lettering “ My Dreams”. That notebook remained in my bedside drawer,I could think of nothing to write in it, I had no idea whatsoever what my dreams were. In retrospect it was a pretty sad state of affairs. Well, dreams are back, hopes are back, thoughts of the future, of possibilities, of potential and of new vistas.
It’s good to have dreams, in fact its bloody necessary, if you don’t dream you have to be a Swami or a Saddo, I am no Swami, so lets face it, I was more the Saddo.
I have dreams, along with a healthy dose of fear, of territories uncharted and a future unceratin, but that’s going to be fine, life needs to be about challenge not certainty.
A Parisiene friend who I seem to have managed to loose touch with over time came to mind recently,her English usage was incredibly creative, making new words from old or re-invigorating old English to create new words from the defunct or archaic. One such word, was Passionated. I’ve looked for it in the Dictionary, it isn’t there, but I think it should be, I would define it thus:-
Passionated: a state where an individual is imbued with passion, emotion without boundary, replete with desire and excitement.
These last six months I have become a man passionated, I have for once indulged myself whole-heartedly in my emotions, soaked myself with them, at times childish, selfish, I have swum in my thoughts, in my fears, in my nightmares, in my fantasies, petulant, self absorbed, and just allowed myself to think with my heart and not at all with my head. You know what? It has been bloody great.
On some level it was just what I needed, an antidote to how I operated for years. I tended to just bottle up, not express, not talk, at least about anything that had meaning for me. I like emotion, I like feeling, above all I like trying to express myself, however nuts my thoughts may be. So that my dears is just what I have done.
A good friend once told me that they would trust me with their life, but not with a secret, this struck home. It was so true, to those I value and I care about I would give anything I could, do anything I was able for, but were they to tell me a secret, I would struggle to keep it. I have a big mouth and I like to use it, I love stories, telling them, hearing them, they are the stuff off life, they are how we learn, how we express, they are windows on our lives and those that have gone before us. And, there’s no getting away from the fact that a darned good gossip is just good fun. Many would disagree with me, but that’s just me. If you have a secret or a confidence, then be warned, I am not, unfortunately the person to confide in.
2013 was my year of Annus Mirabilis, my year of Miracles, of seismic shifts, like some sort of tectonic plate movements, my world has been shaken, moved around and given a darned good shaking. I begin 2014 with a new world to explore, I have always liked exploring, sometimes I like to just wander, no plan, no goal and to see where fate takes me. This year I have a dreams to chase, a half thought out plan and an open mind and an open heart. That’s as good a place as any to start.
In less than a week, so long as my Visa arrives in time I am heading to India, a place which just keeps drawing me back, mad, beautiful, shocking, full of riches, poverty, colour, India has these and much more, a whole mix that endlessly fascinates. Am I escaping London again? Absolutely, as Nina Guilbeau said “Learn to be brave and adventurous because you’ll never discover your place in the world, if you’re too afraid to leave your own backyard.”
Must take some music to listen to, loving one song kicking around at the moment, by some fellow called Pharrell, “Happy Now” I may not be entirely happy, but when I listen to this the world looks like a darned good place…………….