Mid Thirties

A week or so ago, I turned 32.

This is an important moment. I’ve left behind the first couple and I am now officially in my thirties. I am in my thirties. When I was a teenager that phrase would have been more or less on a par with old age pensioner or incontinent geriatric.

Consequently, in my twenties, I made a serious mistake. I held on to my “early twenties” for far too long. 20, 21, 22 – nobody would argue that they are your early twenties. But I carried on thinking of myself as being in my early twenties at 23 and 24 too. That was fine at the time. I clung to my youth.

Then my 25th birthday arrived and with it came a terrible realisation. 25 had to be my mid twenties, there was no denying it. But if 20-24 had all been early twenties, then I had squeezed my mid twenties down to a year, and at 26 I was unwillingly hurled forwards into my late twenties. My late twenties. They were almost over with four years to go. Nightmare.

So with this decade of my life I am determined to get it right. Having turned 32, I am now officially declaring myself to have entered my mid thirties. By taking a hit now, and entering my mid thirties early, I can continue them much longer, and I don’t have to think of myself as reaching my late thirties until I’m 38, at which point I should be able to come to terms with the idea.

So here we are: 32, the beginning of my mid thirties, and an early sign that I might be learning from past mistakes. Sometimes.

Modern Life is Confusing

So… there’s nothing quite like the English language. It can manipulated and distorted in so many ways that what it resembles now is completely different to how it was a hundred, fifty, even twenty years ago.

That said, sometimes innovation does not happen overnight. You have to allow it to simmer for a while. It will bubble to the surface to get your attention when it is ready to do so. Don’t rush it, for the love of Buster Keaton! I was recently scouring the internet to look for a birthday present for my godson and instead stumbled over this.

Ladies and gentleman, let me present you with a link to the Animal Pig:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B013PX3XYI

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Animal Pig you should know two important things:

This pig is an animal
This animal is a pig

Note how the two facts are very similar but also very different at the same time. I had gone looking for a present and alternatively received an education in how to refer to modern animals.

Now when I am on my way to a farm I can look forward to seeing the Animal Cows, the Animal Chickens and the Animal Goats. If I’m heading to a zoo I can feast my eyes upon the Animal Elephants, the Animal Giraffes and possibly, if they’re not too busy, the Animal Tigers.

I’m already working on a FUN leaflet for my nieces to explain that we’ve been doing nature all wrong and that we have to shift with the times otherwise we’ll just look simple.

In one sense, why did no-one tell me this sooner?! In another, awww, pigs.

Turning back the clock

This week I’ve left behind the glamorous world I have occupied for the last year and returned to my old job. Those of you with long memories will recall that it principally involves pushing buttons when foreign people point at me.

There have been several effects as a result of this change.

I find myself catapulted back into a life I last inhabited in January 2015. We all remember that month and everything that happened in it. For me, Uptown Funk is still at the top of the charts and Lithuania has only just adopted the Euro. I won’t actually buy the blue and green striped jumper I’m currently wearing for another ten months. I am living in the past.

I am left with a sense of malaise, which comes from the feeling that my career is moving backwards and not forward, and from the changes that have happened to my old job in my absence. I am also getting re-acquainted with many of my old colleagues which involves talking to people. I don’t like talking to people.

Others have been affected too. My beloved Crab Mug, once the darling of a major broadcaster’s master control room, has returned to my flat, where it feels deflated and redundant, but conversely my white coffee cup (ceramic with silicone lid and grip, in a design that makes it look like a disposable cup from a coffee shop) has been liberated from my locker, which had been shut for the last 14 months, and is enjoying something of a renaissance.

This has been a difficult transition for me, one whose effects will be felt through my life, like aftershocks from some sort of career-based earthquake, for months to come. Some of the results are positive and others are negative.

But one thing is for sure. Everyone I know will have to put up with me complaining about it for the forseeable future, and in that sense, they may be the real losers here.

Prepared

How will you defend yourself in an emergency? It’s all well and good saying you can do hand-to-hand combat, or that you know how to hot-wire a car to make a getaway, but when hordes of neer-do-wells are charging towards your location, can you make yourself safe?

Preparation is the most important thing. Preparation will be the difference between survival and defeat.

This week, I took the opportunity to practice building makeshift barricades and defensive structures.

Here you can see a defensive wall that has been built from packs of kitchen roll. It allows you to hide from potential attackers and will repel missile barrages (providing missiles are relatively light and not thrown very hard).

By preparing myself in this way, I know that I can defend myself from any lethal attack in which the attacker is armed only with paper aeroplanes as long as I have about 50 packs of kitchen roll immediately to hand and a few minutes with which to build a wall out of them.

I am prepared and I will survive. Will you?

Remembering is Fun

I have recently been on a bit of a tidying binge in and around the flat. I took a lot of time out in January to buff to sheen all the jobs I had been procrastinating about during December. And there were tons. It also didn’t help that other people were actively handing me MORE things to do but hey, that’s just me. If I’m me, and I usually am, then I’m always helping.

In sorting out a particularly shifty box in the corner of my room, I re-discovered this interesting artefact from a certain Mr C Marshall:

I’m not very good with dates. I am very certain that this was when he, as in him, as in you, Chris, we’re at university learning how to push buttons for the BBC. Just think of where you would be now were it not for the booze and juice aisles.

My absolute favourite though is the ‘don’t know’ section which contained Lord only knows what kind of middling weirdness and frivolity.

Remembering is Fun.

Dear Beans… My Late Lucid Literary Lamentation

Dear Beans,

For some reason, which clearly escapes me, everyone on this website absolutely, positively hates my books. With a passion. With more than a passion. With big arms and a scowl.

Having sold eight million copies of ‘Running Away: The Me Within Me (Not You)’, I was expecting a certain level of praise and a huge dollop of respect for having conquered the literary world and the New York Bestsellers List for approximately seventeen weeks. What met me, however, was the kind of despair and ridicule best reserved for X Factor contestants who couldn’t get through Boot Camp.

I don’t understand. My book received several 5 star reviews and a glowing report from both Richard and Judy and also, Chris’ favourite, Su Pollard. So where does the venom lie? Is everyone jealous of my success, my fame, my bingo trophy?

I can only hope that my new book ‘Two Pumps and a Squirt – The Kevin Hill Story’ will seek to rectify the problems everyone has with my expressive and hugely successful way of writing.

Yours faithfully

Claim to Fame

Take a seat. Clean up your mess. In fact, you might want to reverse the order of those things. As long as you get them both done.

You should know that you may be within the vicinity of a local celebrity. Not that I like to spoil the surprise but the recent release of Dylan Moran’s newest DVD, ‘Off The Hook’, contains a very special treat for everyone. The main performance was recorded in London. The DVD, however, contains additional material that was recorded at The Stand in Newcastle upon Tyne.

If you listen very carefully you can make out two people laughing very loudly at the ensuing comedy. Audrey ‘Piledriver Transmission Cupcake’ J clocks in with two mighty guffaws and there’s an extended chuckle of chortles from Emma ‘Bat Pan Mants’ M. My laugh, sadly, was not robust enough to make the cut and therefore you will not be able to hear the lovechild of Frank Bruno, Jimmy Carr and Eddie Murphy tittering away in the background.

Brioche: still an afterthought

Last week I bought a big bag of brioche buns for breakfast.

On Thursday and Friday I got some out and had them.

This morning, I was looking for breakfast in a kitchen that was increasingly looking breakfast-free, when inside the white Lego head I found the rest of the brioche rolls.

I didn’t think I was the kind of man who’d buy some tasty French treats and then forget about them, but it seems that all these years on I’ve learned nothing. Brioche is still an afterthought.

Luckily they hadn’t gone off because brioche keeps for ages, so I ate them anyway.

Pouring
Beans

Category: Things that I did