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!

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.

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

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 40^th Anniversary

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?

February 3rd: Thank fish its Fryday

I love fish and chips, and I like my new work hours, here’s why:

Today was my first day in my new role.  My new role means I’ll be working 9-5, Monday to Friday. Today I got a hug from normality. It’s not something I have been chasing. I was happy enough plodding along in my shift work. However when offered the chance to get some balance and regularity back in your life, it’s tough to turn down.

Since I moved out of my parent’s house and moved into ‘the real world’ I have always worked odd hours. I have had no complaints; some of my greatest memories have been late at night or early mornings.  Some of my best friendships have been forged during unsocial hours.

So, with my first regular, normal, standard, ordinary day at work completed. I rush home, in rush hour traffic. I walk through the door, and before I can take my shoes off, the Wife asks me if I fancy fish & chips. Of course I fancy fish & chips, I love fish and chips! There is a brand new Fish and Chip shop within walking distance of the flat. Shoes back on and out the flat with £10 note in hand and the dinner order in my head.

As much as I dislike religion, you have to love the Catholics/Christians (I’m not entirely sure of the difference) and any other faith/ belief structure that doesn’t eat meat on Fridays. Without knowing they have created a breakaway faction with a stronger pull. The fish & chip brigade. The cockneys love this Friday obsession, and I love the cockneys for making this an accepted rule.

So when my wife said ‘Do you fancy fish and chips, I said yes immediately, for two reasons.
1. I have just finished my long, normal, regular 9-5 shift like normal regular people, so was in no mood or mind set to cook, and
2. I love fish and chips! It’s a free pass to fast food!

Fish and chips hold a strong plaice in my heart. My first foray into the grown up world was making chips for a fast food restaurant.  I would start at 7am Saturday morning (unsociable hours) and my first task would be to bring 10 sacks of potatoes from the store room to the restaurant kitchen. The spuds then needed to be emptied in to ‘the rumbler’. I have no idea if this is the correct term for this particular machine, but it was always referred to as ‘the rumbler’. After being spun round a rough cylinder - the rumbler - which was basically an industrial peeler, you would open the latch on the front of ‘the rumbler’ and try and catch as many of the clean slippery potatoes as possible in a big black bin. You would then pour the newly cleaned spuds through ‘the chipper’. The same naming ceremony applies to ‘the chipper’ as it does to ‘the rumbler’. It’s just what it was. It was Z shaped potato slide with big blades awaiting the tumbling spuds. As you poured the potatoes into the top chute the sharp blades would chop them, with structured uniformity, into good old fashioned chips. This process was repeated until all 10 sacks had been chipped and placed in to the big black bins and all this before 10am!

 Happy fry day everyone.

February 2nd: Anyone for Hangman?

I try to keep my work life and social life separate. I don’t know how many people at work knew of my writing adventure in 2011. I had mentioned it to some in passing, and they were very friendly and supportive without any real understanding. I’m not sure why I didn't let them in; whenever TYOTG did come up in conversation the feedback was always full of interest and intrigue and nearly always complimentary. I just wanted to keep something separate for me.

I work for a company that treats its team members well, for the most part. They are a small, private, new business with a great appeal and a product to match. They have people from all over the world working for them, whose backgrounds and skills are wide and diverse.

The company like to put on events to make the team feel welcomed.

They have a summer barbeque with food cooked by the management and entertainment laid on. They celebrate everybody’s anniversaries and birthdays. They lay on a great Christmas spread and good team party in January, giving thanks for the previous year’s efforts and successes.

I have been there for 2 Christmas parties.

 Last year, being the first, we were rewarded with a bottle of champagne/sparkling wine and a huge Panettone (a traditional Italian dessert). The champagne was consumed very quickly but the cake is still knocking about repackaged as a Christmas present. The team members presents are handed out with a firm handshake and warm ‘Thank you’ filled with genuine gratitude. This is appreciated by most, ignored by some and frowned upon by the suspicious and cynical.

It’s much like any other company in that way.

With last year’s present in my mind (and still in my mother in laws kitchen) I plodded along, confidently, to the staff Christmas shindig in late December. After the traditional ceremony and socially accepted pomposity, seats were taken and wine was poured.

A glamorous three course meal was then served by all heads of departments to us, the minions. Then the gifts, a neatly wrapped and pleasantly presented gender specific present.

This year’s Christmas present for everyone was a note book bearing the company logo.

This is my reward for writing everyday for a year! Another blank notebook! What am I going to use that for? I have no idea whether they knew about my terrible, yet fantastic, struggle with the written word over the past three hundred odd days; the irony wasn’t lost on me.

Tomorrow I start my new position within the company that I’ve been with for 2 years. I’m open to what may happen and have my own expectations. I will have my new notebook with me.

The blank note book is like my mind, open, willing and waiting to be filled with new information.

I am looking to fill my note book with more knowledge, answers, ideas and theories.

Failing that, I can always play hangman.

I knew that book would come in handy.

February 1st – This place

I thought I'd take you back to where I spent a lot of my time during The year of the Gav (TYOTG)

After many caffeine and booze filled late afternoons and early evenings and having searched around for the most inspirational place to write.(For inspirational please read cheapest.)

I settled upon, This place.

As I write this, I am still not quite sure what its called.

Not only does this place offer the most economical coffee option £1.65 with a free refill, this place over looks the bus stop. This enabled me to stay in the warm drinking my free coffee whilst also ensuring that I'd never miss my selected work transportation.

This place is similar to most coffee shops within my area and, I would imagine, yours too.

But there was something special about this place. Whether it was the speedy complimentary Wi/fi, the lovely lady behind the counter (who looked as pissed off with her job as I was with mine but still managed to be polite and smile) or the deaf bloke, who comes in everyday, shouts at the top of his voice and nobody seems to mind. I don't know, but this place made writing come easier to me.

It had music and coffee, which I had in the flat, but it had something that I didn't have. It had tables.

I don't own a table, my writing days were and are hampered by uncomfortable afternoons on the sofa, with the ironing board set to its lowest notch and pillows placed behind me in a losing battle with lumbar support.

This place, became part of my routine, a routine I desperately needed.

This place, became the regular setting, somewhere to start from, somewhere that was as easy to concentrate in, as it was to be inspired from. This place was home to my task.

As with all tasks, I needed to set myself a goal, stick to that goal and improve on it. Before TYOTG, I didn't have any goals. Everything else was more important, everything else was one massive distraction and I wasn't achieving anything.

Something had to give:

I will be forever grateful to the way it gave.

I still don't know how or why TYOTG came about, forgive the pun, no rhyme or reason. A lot of people questioned it and even more told me that I couldn't/wouldn't do it. But I did it!

I found the outlet that I'd be longing for, and this place provided me with the perfect base to do that.

In some ways, this place drew many parallels to TYOTG, it was a social place, where I was constantly alone, it was a place I could explore what it was like to do something I loved but always aware that the clock was counting down to take me back to work/the real world.

This place was, and is, a place that picks me up and offers a little sweetener.

Thank you, This place.
p.s This place is called Cafe Americano.

Pinch & a Punch

Hello, my beautiful readers. Thank you for 2011, who's ready to start again?
Welcome to another year and another daily challenge.
As my poetry blog last year, www.gavinellis.blogspot.com received 7000 hits and counting,
I thought I should follow it up with another adventure.
Last year took me from Woking to the Isle of Wight, from weddings to New York and culminated with me openly weeping in Starbucks & it was all worth it.
I thought I'd take January off. Now it's February and it's time to start again
This year will be more simplistic, a simpler task with easy to follow rules
A post/blog a day featuring a single photo summing up that post.
That's it, 1 post, 1 pic, 1 story a day for a year.
I hope/I think/I know, it'll be as eventful as 'The year of the Gav'
The year of the Gav 2 - this time it's less personal!