Thursday 22 March 2012

Today is tomorrows yesterday

We start life alone and discover quickly
How to change a solo to a full on symphony
Good friends come and go, but the great ones stay
Today is tomorrows yesterday
As you grow, your patience gets longer
Your mind gets wise and your opinions stronger
You fill your time with more work than play
Today is tomorrows yesterday
You get caught up in life and how best to live it
Which way to turn and how much to give it
The way you choose is the best way
Today is tomorrows yesterday
You start to react and have objection
To grass cut in a particular direction
While the sun shines lets make some hay
Today is tomorrows yesterday
What was said back then was reactionary
Before I became a better me
If offence was caused, it wasn't meant that way
Today is tomorrows yesterday
When the time comes will meet up once more
And we'll argue like we did before
It's not wrong to desire one more replay
Today is tomorrows yesterday

Monday 5 March 2012

Weekender bender

Hello normality, I'm still alive
I've started working a nine to five
No more do I simply survive
Life has found new meaning
Monday's were irregularly obscene
Then,new work, chose to intervene
Now I'm part of a regular routine
To which I was longingly leaning
I've lost the free time I used to have
In which was written The year of the Gav
Drinking coffee served by Slav
Not being able to see my friends
Now I'm part of the regular society
Picking off the tree of weekly variety
Loving life and justifiably
Working mid but off weekends
I'm sure good times are up ahead
Into great things I'm being led
I'll adventurously grab and fearlessly tread
I'm ready, willing and hearty
Just Me the Wife and two days
Endless scenarios,countless ways
We'll merrily drink and graciously graze
Who wants us at their party?

Thursday 9 February 2012

February 8th: Nothing, Zero, Zilch!

Sorry, I've let you down, I've let myself down and I’ve let my family down.
The problem with writing something every day is that it becomes a viscous circle.
In order for me to write these thoughtful, well versed, and morose yet light hearted anecdotes; I need to be out experiencing life and all it flavours. But, if I am out partying as if it were 1999, then I have no time to write or tell you about it. Or maybe I just need better time management.
Either way, I apologise, I set myself a task and in just over a week it flat lined.
I’m sure there will be more failures as we pootle along.
Let’s build a bridge, call it ‘Life’ and get over it.
Tomorrows looking tight too!

Tuesday 7 February 2012

February 7th: René Descartes (desk-art)

I have a desk, I have a job, therefore I have a desk job! Or something like that.
I’ve never before had a regular job, with regular hours and regular benefits.
It’s always been peculiar, unfavourable working hours, but now I’m getting used to my new role and my new life. For the last two years I’ve been up at 6am and starting at 7am or starting at 3pm so kicking my heels for the morning before dragging out work until it was nearly tomorrow.
Not anymore. Now I am in up at 8am and working at 9am.
This has a more structured, balancing effect on my day and on my world.
I now have a more structured week. I have Wednesdays. I have never before felt the true meaning of hump day; I’ve always despised that saying, until now. Now I can empathise and celebrate in the wonder of the middle of the working week.
Weekends: I have been unable to bask in the glory of a fulfilling weekend, drowned in family commitments an overcome with social engagements.
I’ve never had the full excitement of Friday; it used to be ‘thank God it’s Friday’ and I thought why?
It never held the same punctuation for me. Friday for me was all about building up for the busiest time of the week, suffering and listening to the highest of demands from the lowest of payers.
I am thoroughly enjoying my ‘normal’ life. It has somewhat reinvented and reconfigured my attitude and my social calendar
It’s not all as easy as it seems. I now face the same struggles and pressures as everyone else.
A lot more people have the same time off as me. This means that everywhere is busy. Shops, coffee shops, bars, restaurants, cinema, petrol stations and anywhere else you can think of.
This is a good thing of course. This is a good thing of course? This is a ‘good thing’, of course!
I’m not sure how that sentence should read. Please place the emphasis where you think best.
The places I used to visit when working those strange hours are now full. I can’t get my favourite seat in my favourite coffee shop. The discounted rates offered by my hairdresser are not applicable over the weekends. The car parks are all full up.
I haven’t had time to get used to or fed up of these things.
What I can say is that come Saturday and Sunday you know where I am, or rather, where I’m not.
My dinner time is now less erratic. My days are changing, they are becoming, more like yours.
So, no more excuses, it’s time to make the most of my time. Evenings should be spent on open mics or exploring the wider community, we can act out those immortal words from 80’s kids classic ‘Why don't you’. We are switching off our TV sets to doing something less boring instead.
I am already feeling the benefits and reaping the rewards. Perhaps it is just new boy syndrome, we shall have to wait and see.
I think this new rota will work well for me, I think I will excel with my new found freedom and regularity, I think I shall be happier inside and outside of work.
I think I deserve it and I think it’s been a long time coming.

Monday 6 February 2012

February 6th: I heart NY

As I drink my tea, my mind drifts back to late November last year. A lifelong ambition fulfilled. One of my greatest wishes and longest wants realised. On Sunday 27th of November we took off from Heathrow terminal 5 bound for New York. It was all I could have hoped for.
New York was so vast, large, buzzing and constant. Within 5 minutes of leaving the confines of the airport grounds, we were bombarded with familiarity, in a place we'd never been.
You can undersell America with overused clichés and stereotypes and New York can be easily lost amongst the tourists. Either way there is no getting over the fact that everywhere you go in New York, someone is taking a picture of something they recognise. Before the illustrious Manhattan skyline was in even in view, we were noticing the unmistakable World State Fair and Flushing Meadows, our driver continually pointed out famous landmarks and identifiable sights. After a little more driving and pointing from our driver and a lot more smiling from me, we were ready. We rounded the bend on the freeway and there it was, for the first time, my New York skyline. I was staring at the most famous city in the world and it was staring straight back. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, I couldn't quite believe it, I didn't want it to ever end and I knew I'd never forget it.
Our mini bus carried about 10 people, who were being dropped at different locations around the city. We were in that vehicle for the best part of three hours, I didn't mind one bit. The time just flew by. Every street bought a new vision. Walk; don't walk signs, famous hotels on famous avenues. Yellow cabs being directed by New York City cops blowing their whistles and directing the traffic in their suburban ballet. Until finally it was our turn to be dropped off.
Over the next 5 days we ticked off all the tourist hang outs, Statue of Liberty, check, Ellis Island, of course, check, Wall Street, done, Empire State, Grand Central and Central park, check check check.
We even saw NYPD officers buying coffee and doughnuts.
After seeing as much as was possible in the little time we had, we got around to buying some memorabilia. I bought a T-shirt and a mug. A mug that I use every day and as much as I can. My daily reminder of my long awaited and satisfying journey. My mug says that I heart NY, which is true, I do, we got on so well. It was pleasant, polite, warming, welcoming, comfortable and unnerving at the same time.
So yes, I heart NY, but I have a feeling that NY secretly hearts GE

Sunday 5 February 2012

February 5th: 40 years. Who said it wouldn’t last?

My parents have been married for 40 years. 40 funny years!
I have known my parents since I was a young lad and they’ve known me even longer.
My childhood was a very happy one and I believe I was instilled with good morals, good values and most importantly a good sense of humour. I don’t think they would still be together if they didn’t have a laugh with and at each other. You should never underestimate the power of funny.
My Dad laughs at very silly things; he likes the ridiculous, the shocking and the good classic standard joke. I think I got my younger laughs from him. However, having set the rule that nothing and no one was ever beyond being ridiculed, on more than one occasion, Dave has ended up being the butt of the joke. He must realise this. He understands the very rules of comedy, he taught me. Either way he takes it quite well. Nothing fills me with as much pleasure as to see and hear my Dad laugh. He allowed me to watch Billy Connolly, when the British Board of Film Classification suggested otherwise. I would burst out in fits of giggles whenever Dave did, even if I had no idea why I was laughing.
Mum’s sense of humour is much more intellectual and diverse. I would say she has a very classy highbrow sense of the funny. Her problem comes when she starts laughing. This laughter becomes overpowering, this laughter can strike at anytime and is often a long time after whatever she’s laughing at has past. When she does start laughing it’s like a fire at a carpet factory, you try and help but to no avail, it’s best just to sit it out and wait until the end. Mum makes herself laugh even more when she tries to explain why she is laughing.
One of my great joys, as I get older is to be able to make these funny people laugh.
I have known Dave and Anna in many guises over the years; Mother, Father, disciplinarian, teacher, comforter and negotiator. I am currently experiencing the greatest stage of our relationship, friend.
Dave and Anna are great friends of mine, I adore the time we spend together. They were and are great parents and now they are my closest friends.
I cannot imagine the strength and understanding that goes into 40 years of marriage. They are a brilliant example of longevity and I continually strive for their approval.
I wish I could see them more often; I wish I could be more proactive and speak to them on a more regular basis. Whenever I do speak to them they are so positive and enthusiastic about all my endeavours.
I know, when my time comes, I will be a great parent, I can’t fail, I’ve had the greatest teachers
I love you Mum and Dad and I like you even more
Happy 40th Anniversary

Saturday 4 February 2012

February 4th: First time a Fender

The electric guitar that I had propped up in the corner of my living room has gone. It has gone back to the place that I got it from, the loft. I still have my first acoustic guitar in the corner of the room which has itself only been played a few times. My acoustic guitar still has the original strings on, the same strings for 12 years. This can’t be beneficial.
I have mastered three cords A, D and E. I am sometimes able to muster up a G. When it comes to Barre chords, forget it, I have neither the drive nor patience to master this.
In my head, I genuinely believed that the lower, softer, easier action would improve my guitar playing. This was, to me, a nice, positive, reasonable argument with balance and some evidence. The evidence being that, some bloke once told me that it was easier to play and electric guitar than an acoustic. Which is pretty much like saying that it’s easier to drive a brand new car than it is to drive an old banger. It all depends on your starting point. If you can drive, then you’ll be able to drive both the banger and the new motor however ‘ICAN’T PLAY THE GUITAR!’ ergo I could play neither the electric nor acoustic. But I wanted to learn, I wanted to be so cool and Weller-like and, God damn it, I was ruddy well going to teach myself. There was one flaw in me teaching myself guitar. I don’t know how to play. I would often pick up my guitar, dust it down, find it was out of tune, spend so long in retuning it that by the time it was tuned I had lost all interest in actually playing it.
I am sad to see my borrowed guitar head back to a lonely place where it will lay, untouched by human hands, just gathering dust and going out of tune, let’s be honest, it might have well just stay in my living room. I thank you!
The thing is, I wanted to be able to ‘play’ my guitar but I didn’t want to do the learning side of things.
I want to play like Weller. I have this amazing DVD where, Paul Weller is just sat on a stool, knocking out classic tune after classic tune, incredibly simply and seemingly easily. There is a crowd of 200 hundred people glued to his every sound and movement. One man, one guitar, one stage and 400 hundred eyes trained directly on him. That’s where I want to be. I don’t want to be playing repetitious chord changes. So I now just have one guitar that sits all alone, untouched and detuned.
Perhaps that should have been my goal, learn how to play the guitar. Yeah! Learn how to play the guitar then get a band together; tour the UK, then the world! Brilliant that’s next year sorted. Look out world! Here comes rocker Gav! Let’s get that guitar back, dust it off and tune it up and then..... What was I going to do?