My Sporting Life and other Bollocks

Sport

I could never throw overarm. I'm better now but if I try to throw with any force it can go anywhere - from straight to my feet as I just don't let go in time, to any possible tangent other than the intended target.

I was always the last to be picked for football at school. Even after the kids who bunked games because their little finger hurt. I was good at cross-country running which I enjoyed. I actually did enjoy football but I was obviously rubbish at it.

It's malcoordination: my brain just doesn't do things automatically that others' do. I can barely dance unless the music really takes me. I've never really enjoyed it or found it a natural thing to do when listening to most music. I can feel the rhythms and dissect the layers of rhythms and beats in my head in a piece of music and totally immerse myself in it all, but it never translates into anything terpsichorean.

The footballers at school wasted no time in telling me I was crap. I don't recall telling them they were crap at Maths or Art. 

Maybe I did. Memories are unreliable.

One time I got huge praise from our games teacher. We were playing 11 a side and I was in defence. I got the ball and saw a good player, called Paul Jepson, in space and hoofed it up the pitch. By chance it landed on his foot and he was able to set up a goal scoring opportunity. 

Mr Roberts (and this is games teachers down to a tee) said "I know you all think he's crap, but Geraint got the ball, he looked up, saw Jepson was in space and passed it up there where he was able to play it. That was the best move of the match."

The footballers all murmured and muttered and looked resentfully at me. I basked in my moment of glory.

Years later when I 27 and living back in Wells, I was playing Sunday league football. I didn't really enjoy it as football to me seems to bring out the worst in some people - toxic masculinity. I turned up early for one match and waited in my car. 

Another car pulled up - it was Martin Lovell who was a terrific footballer and sportsman. And he recognised me, and laughed. 

And he sat there in his car still laughing at me - 11 years after school finished. Time doesn't move on in these small towns.

I wish I'd had his sporting prowess, but I'm equally glad I had none of his charm or interpersonal skills.

Narnia

I do go on about this, but I'll do it again anyway as I have dementia and am approaching grandparent age (or greatgrandparent age if on a council estate). My favourite book when I was 9 was The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe (TLTWATW), and I read it twice as I loved it so much. No one mentioned that it was one book of seven.

So I'm currently going through all 7 books, reading about one a day. I'm really pleased I can still read as I perhaps won't be able to in a few months or years time.

They're my kind of books - edited perfectly so there is little guff, and there is something going on all the time - the pacing is fantastic. 

The Horse and His Boy is the weakest of the first 4 by far, and I'm currently reading Prince Caspian which is in my opinion the second best after TLTWATW.

It's wonderful stuff - the perfect Christmas series of books.

I'll be reviewing all seven of the series in the next instalment.

Not enough Gaming

I've ordered the Elden Ring. This is a huge Fantasy Role Playing Game for my console. I could no longer wait around for other people to join in or organise themselves to play TTRPGs (Table-top Role-playing Games) so I'm going back to the Xbox and I'm going to immerse myself (guilt-free) in someone else's fantasy vision rather than my own.

Saying that, I am Dungeon Mastering 2 back-to-back Drakkenheim sessions on New Year's Day and the Bank Holiday Monday. I just need this level of thrill and excitement and immersion most of the time and I'm not getting it.

 My name is Barbie. I love you very much.

Reading is good. Watching can be good - as  fan of The Witcher TV series I was enormously disappointed by The Witcher: Blood Origin which was a lazy and hackneyed attempt to cash in of the TV franchise. I got midway through the second episode but it was terrible. 

Much better are the Anime series such as Dragon Age: Absolution or DOTA: Dragon's Blood. 

Apart from that I don't watch much TV. Especially lazy panel game shows which all seem to have any 4-6 of the same pool of comedians on.

Never mind the heatwave, here's some bollocks

Culture

Less is going through my mind than ever before. Dungeons and Dragons - mehh. Abba - barely listen to it, and that's despite having spent hundreds more on tickets to see them twice more! I seem to be less into stuff, but on the other hand I'm very much back to exploring my old musical tastes - back to progressive music: Gentle Giant and Frank Zappa especially but lots of other interesting things too.

I love this. But then again who doesn't?

Since watching snippets of Glastonbury while on holiday in The Lakes, I've been revisiting Paul McCartney. Everyone talks about Lennon being a god but a lot of the stuff he released after The Beatles is unlistenable, especially the stuff with Yoko Ono. 

Talking of McCartney I remember when Mull of Kintyre was no 1 for 6 weeks. I was amazed to find out the song was only 4.43 long. Feels like half an hour when you listen to it. Funny how We are Sailing by Rod Stewart which was also a massive hit in the 70s never gets played any more either. 

That's a good thing.

Yes. This really is LIVE.

Plans

So not only do I have no get up and go I have a lot of stuff to do. J is away for work so I walked the dogs before the heat really sets in and now I'm writing this; not so bad so far. 

Got to do some more stuff: write some D&D notes and really get on top of things. Last night was pretty lacklustre (the heat didn't help) but I just couldn't get round to doing much in the way of prep for the session. 

I also have to have a hairdo and moustache and beard trim (which I will do next) and try and keep busy but pace myself in the heat (32' today - v hot for the UK).

Politics

Last week I was glued to the computer, radio, TV and news feeds and papers. I couldn't get enough of it.

 

It was hilarious. 

At last the worst Prime Minister in HISTORY is gone. But actually he hasn't - he's still there squatting in No 10 Downing Street. And now the most venal collection of politicians in history are all fighting for the top job espousing their credentials, integrity, and principals.

Excuse me? 

Fifty of them resigned in 36 hours to save their own necks. They were all complicit in the lies and hypocrisy of Johnson until they knew it was all over.

And the likelihood is one of these will be our next PM. 

Health

As a DEMENTED I'm supposed to crave sugar. I have had stages of eating Tangfastics and also liquorice - that was a big food fad for me. However I now get my sugar in the far more convenient and refreshing form of BEER.

The effect of this is initially pleasure and as an aid to relaxation which leads to conversation. 

According to Thomas Jefferson, "Beer, if drunk with moderation, softens the temper, cheers the spirit, and promotes health." 

However having not drunk in moderation I now have a beergut. Bugger. 

This means I am no longer a SEXY.

And why do alcoholic drinks taste so good the older you get? A cruel joke of nature I'd say.

So anyway, despite the myriad gorgeous flavours waiting to be imbibed and the wonderful feelings and conversations to be experienced, I must curtail my consumption of beer. 

Bollocks.

Holidays in Dementialand

Pubs

I was doing really well. We’d had a funeral, 2 big walks, meals out. I had coped with all the new people, the crowds (the hustle, bustle, noises and so forth) and then after a not very good meal we decided to go to the pub nearest to the restaurant - the best pub in town too.

Suddenly lots of people. I thought it would be relatively quiet on a Tuesday. The people we were with knew a couple at the bar - they went back years. Hugs, bon homie, chitter-chatter, old friends and everything that entails.

Something in me switched. I can’t grasp what exactly but I went very silent, looking everywhere else but the conversation. I went outside for 5 minutes but that didn’t do anything except leave me feeling colder. 

I guess I was hoping the four of us from the restaurant would be on our own having a quiet chat. I just wasn’t expecting there to be new people joining us. I don’t know why this is so difficult. It seems I slip a gear when this happens and can’t get going again. 

I guess I don’t cope well with the unexpected anymore

So I stayed there, in that space.

The old me would have tried to join in the conversation but like a roundabout going too fast I just couldn’t get the timing right to grab a hold and be part of it all. Nor, if I’m honest, did I have the inclination to even want to try.

The people at the bar were friendly enough. It’s just the dementia.

I think our friends felt awkward with my behaviour and I’m sorry about that. It’s not something I can do much about anymore, and some episodes are worse than others.

Oh god, it’s him…

Shopping

I woke up this morning and J and I decided to do some shopping. The feeling from last night was still there, as I entered shops with music playing and people milling about; lots of voices. I was finding the whole thing just slightly overwhelming. 

I put on my Sunflower lanyard.

(I’m never sure if people know what it means.)

Anyway, I tried on some approach shoes and while they fitted my weird feet, I didn’t like the styles. I don’t know about you (and why would I?) but some seasons I buy nothing as I find the styles and colours pretty ghastly. 

I had neglected to pack enough hiking t-shirts due to dimness/dementia, so I did buy 2 hiking t-shirts (cotton T’s can get uncomfortable on a long hike) with Jacqui’s help. I then said that we should abort the shopping sortie as it was just a fruitless exercise.

I’m now writing this. This evening we are going out once more to a restaurant. It will be fine. This sort of thing just happens now and again.

I’m just looking forward for it to pass over so I can return to the new normal. 

It can take days however.

My Neurological Diversity, innit?

Someone I was at school with sent me a friend invite after viewing my profile on Facebook. We didn’t really know each other very well, but she had read my blog and a lot of it had resonated with her. Amongst other things she had been diagnosed with autism. She said if she had not known she would have thought I was writing about autism - especially the need to wear dark glasses and noise-cancelling headphones bit.

We compared notes and have had similar experiences socially all our lives; not really fitting in to any one group, saying the wrong thing/ faux pas, and more. 

Yes, I know everyone does. 

But they really don’t.

It was very interesting anyway, and good to have a new friend to understand/empathise with.

Benjamin Buitoni

Reversal/Nostalgia

So I'm going backwards. I'm obsessional about Dungeons and Dragons - a game I played as a teenager which I recently took up again (as a lot of people have done) when the latest edition came out in 2014.

I've got back in touch with old school-friends as they were happy days for me. Precious memories. 

Well, the sixth-form was at least.

My favourite group is now Abba. As a boy I hated them, though did I secretly like them? I don't know. I remember thinking they were soppy as they sang about love and relationships. I was 12 when they split up, so I guess I was too young and/or the wrong sex. 

For some reason their music completely resonates with 52 year old me. Björn Ulvaeus says there's a happy/sad that that's part of the Swedish character, and that is very prevalent in their music. Lots of other studies show that the verse/chorus patterns and the sing-a-long-ability of their songs also resonates in our brains.

(However, some of the songs are deceptively difficult to sing and the harmonies very, very difficult!)

Jacqui and I are going to see them on Sunday. I'm wearing my sunflower lanyard for the first time as I think I will be an emotional mess. The concert is apparently incredibly immersive and emotional. 

I don't think, I KNOW I will be an emotional mess.

NOT holograms. Okay?

Dining Realisation

Last week J and I went for lunch in a lovely restaurant in Surbiton. We were the only ones when we arrived. Some soft funk/fusion music played in the background. It was really agreeable.

We hadn't been for a meal like this since before lockdown.

I was very much in the moment and realised how much I'd deteriorated. So much visual and aural information bombarding me. My brain foggier than ever. Smiling Jacqui in front of me looking so pretty. I was happy but I realised at that point I have about 5 or 6 years left. 

My grandmother used to say stuff like that at Christmas dinner. Lol. 

This realisation didn't make me sad. Those things don't anymore. It's just the way it is.

I'm DEFINITELY retiring after the bay window in Teddington (scheduled for July 22) and liquidating the business. Time to find something else to do, and enjoy what's left while I still can.

Lazy

One part of the realisation above is that I'm finding it harder and harder to motivate myself.

That feeling you get when you know you should be doing something but you're doing nothing instead. When you think of all the friends you haven't spoken to for ages and you still don't contact them. I know that I should clear the back of the van, but I don't. I know I should vacuum the house, order a skip, chase up the DVLA etc etc.

Nothing happens.

I should read that particular book in preparation for Sunday's session. 

I just about manage to do this, still.

I know, I know. You do that exact same thing too. 

Sure you do.

Executive functions offline

 Sales Prevention Officer

So here we are in BST 2022. It's always a shock to the system for most of us, for the first few days, as our bodies adjust to getting up an hour earlier. I don't know why it's such a big deal but it is. I for one feel no compunction to do anything except ignore people asking me to do stuff. While last week I was all get up and go and task-central this week will be one of reading and quietness.

"I have a large crack in my threshold stone." I couldn't care less.

"We would like you to quote for reinstating a bay window." Where are you? "E17." No.

"We are wishing to purchase a property and were wondering if..." No.

"Can you...?" No.

So this is a small part of running a small business - marketing, managing, logistics, the job itself and ultimately sales prevention. It's ultimately why I'm quitting. 

I can find myriad reasons why I won't be attending to a broken paving stone or cracked paint or to and fro with a customer for weeks while having to justify a fair price for something few people have any idea what's entailed in creating (a bespoke product costing £1,500 in raw materials before we even start carving) yet I'm apparently expensive, while the same customer is prepared to pay 10s of thousands for poorly engineered bifold doors or polluting cruises in the Sargasso sea. 

I don't get it myself.

Zen and the art of bugger all

I guess this is down to the old Executive Function thing of FTD. (Nothing to do with being a miserable sod!) I'm told I have to be kind to myself and not expect too much. So this morning I've bought myself a water filter, a present for my sister's birthday (I asked her and ordered it online so it was no effort at all) read the parts of the paper I wanted to read (decreasing by the week) and am trying to get my head round some statue thing we've got on the go. Can't bring myself to do anything about it though.

This latter is the sort of thing people do in a coffee break at work. On days like today I get nowhere fast - it takes me all day to accomplish almost bugger all. 

I actually feel relatively normal. My head's a little foggy but my typing is okay, it's just that this is all I'm capable of. 

And you're probably thinking, why bother?

The Most Boring Place I ever Worked

People are often surprised when I tell them, but after leaving a company called Chorion (a rights-owning company) I temped for a bit before I did my photography course back in 2006. 

I was a PA (believe it or not) to a very nice guy (the only decent boss I ever had outside of masonry) at the Discovery Channel. He was responsible for something I've completely forgotten about.

Anyway, a lot of people worked doing the networking for the various channels. Their job was scheduling all the programmes for each channel. Some days the networking people would just do 'Fishing Day' and alternate say 2 different series for 24 hours. Or 'Gun Porn Day' where some psychopathic ex-special forces Yank wanks on about the development of bullets designed not to kill but to maim. The schedulers were guided by charts and some fairly sound data, but it wasn't rocket science by any means. And the people working on it weren't the brightest bulbs in the box.

2 women used to sit opposite me. One would always be late and when she arrived the pair of them would discuss yesterday's episode of Home and Away (great programme by the way). It would last longer than the programme itself. Aside from this, on the average day I had about 20 minutes of work to do. 

There was nothing to do, but at least it was a zero-stress environment. 

One time I was so bored we had some flat-packed office furniture arrive. Rather than wait for the men in blue overalls to arrive and assemble it I found a screwdriver and did it myself for something to do. One executive said "Gosh Geraint, you're wasted in TV!" She meant it as well.

Unfortunately I think I drove myself nuts there, along with maybe some other people. 

Definitely some other people.

How did you get on at the office dear?

They asked me to leave on the last day before Xmas! They must have hated me! 🤣🤣🤣

Actually, being fired or sacked or made redundant has been one of the great blessings of my working life. I've always found better work opportunities after those events. I learned that if you don't fit in then don't try to detain yourself in that workplace - it ain't ever gonna happen. 

I came back to masonry to tide myself over (much less awful) and photography, just as the rest of the world decided to do it too.

Masonry it was then!

Maybe with my daily 20 minute attention span I could get a job back on The Discovery Channel? 

You shall not pass!

Help, I'm becoming Toby Young

 One thing about FTD is that you end up with no friends as you piss everybody off and when you die no one comes to your funeral. With my last couple of blog posts this aspect of the disease is coming more to fore. I find it hard to not fixate on certain people and I care less about what others think - not that I care nothing - it's that I don't understand immediately why something is offensive or how it could be hurtful.

So I deleted certain content about one particular person who I'd begun to hate as it's totally counterproductive to this blog and what its original intention was, which was to help people understand my neurological condition.

Jacqui and I originally had a name of the dementia - we called it Piers (as I dislike both Pierses Morgan and Corbyn, it made sense) and it enabled us to laugh about it, making the distinction between 'me' and 'it'.

Recently it appears that Piers is trying to dominate Geraint. This has been pointed out to me in no uncertain terms by J. 

Now I get it. Henceforth I'll make a concerted effort to look for the signs and try and head him off at the pass, Gandalf-style.

Ya Balrog bastard!

This is the reality of FTD. It's the nasty vicious side of the disease; the disappointing sequel without the laughs. 

I'm not looking forward to this or the effect it has on those around me. I have to try my utmost to recognise the signs and develop coping strategies. 

It's getting difficult.

Pick's Disease or Semantic Variant?

When we received the diagnosis back in December 2020 it was FTD Semantic Variant with a little bit of Frontal Lobe degradation. I now believe it's the opposite way round.

Pick's Disease as it used to be known, or Behavioural Variant (FTD BV) is when the Frontal Lobe which controls behaviour shows Pick Bodies and Pick Cells. The long and the short of it is that behaviour-wise it  manifests as apathy but also in impulsiveness and disinhibition.

It's the most common after Alzheimer's, which is a little bit disappointing as I thought I belonged to a more exclusive club...

The SV part is characterised by a loss of semantic understanding. I've mentioned before that if you ask me a point blank question like "What have you been doing this last week?" I stall - I can't think. I also grasp at certain words, but that aspect doesn't seem to have worsened in the last year.

For example yesterday, I ran a 4-hour long D&D session and played the parts of the characters. And then I came home and when I'm no longer in the zone I fire off a blog entry I think is really good and end up naming names and saying outrageous stuff and pissing off people I care about, as well as presumably those I don't.

I just need to retain a level of mindfulness about the here and now. Ask how my words could backfire. I know to others it's obvious, but it's getting less and less obvious to yours truly.

Asshole

My Behaviour

I met an old acquaintance at a party a while back. God it was a difficult night. So many coked/pissed-up people. It was in the West End. Coke is super popular everywhere these days. It’s a total bore. People on coke are the biggest assholes ever. There’s an arsehole-osity about every drug, but coke is the worst. It turns any decent person into the biggest twat ever, full of themselves and bursting with stupidity and obnoxiousness. 

It was a difficult night of bizarre human behaviour and of enforced interaction with said humans. 

I had to leave the place several times due to noise and general busyness of humans. One woman recognising I was mad (as I ran out shouting) kindly asked me if I was okay. That is the first time that's happened.

I met lots of people from my dim and distant past. One was Xxxx. 

Our relationship had been one of falling in and and out with each other all our lives. We’d clearly had enough of each other by this point as we aren’t in touch nor want to be. I told him in some form of confession, that my frontal lobe had probably never been all that and that I’d never really known how to behave, hence the huge drunken faux pas, the devil’s advocate in me, and other non-normal behaviour. He seemed to concer, as though he’d always realised and it seemed like some kind of understanding or nod of acceptance.

Don’t get me wrong. I know him so well and know all his tricks. But I’m assuming he knows mine so that’s fine. It was an interesting culmination of our acquaintance and mutually intimate knowledge of each other.

It was a nice way to part company.

No News

I’m no longer allowed (J says!) to read the news. The Frontal Lobe being what it is I get so wound up with things - things from my dim and distant past, or something I read in the papers, particularly  about the current situation. Stuff just boils over in me and she’s worried it will get me into trouble.

To be honest I care less these days, hence my previous post. Thing is I think these arseholes should be called out. But I take on board what she says too.

It’s a fine line writing a blog while trying to be confessional, warts ‘n all, and also being economical with all the truth. It affects other people that you care about.

As Phillip Roth said, ‘When a family produces a writer, that family is finished.’ It certainly was in his case. I want to be that, but I know I can't be.

I think there's a level of cruelty needed to be truly honest.

Return to Contentment

Yesterday I ran a game at The Willoughby. It was an old easy-to-run vanilla dungeon. I kept the numbers small and was very strict about who the players were. We started at 2 and finished at 6.45pm. I had a good time and so did everyone else. It was a pleasure to DM and it played really well.

I think we were all due a good fun session as we were all in a parlous state in one form or another.

And now the weather…

Today it’s beautiful out there. Frosty and a blue sky. 

I’m really affected by the weather and I love cold frosty mornings. They’re just beautiful and lift my spirits. 

Miserable, wet cold mornings mean working outside and perpetual cold and misery. Work sucks.

Bright mid-summer mornings give me a shiver down the spine as it’s exams and I haven’t revised!

Gloomy dark mornings mean the 1970s (Winter of Discontent power cuts etc) which is also Stoberry Junior School - a pretty happy time for me. Though not the Infants School. No. That was hell. That’s a sunny memory.

I don’t know if anyone else equates weather quite like this.

Ghastly.

Miserable Bastard

Annie get yer gun

My friend Annie is an excellent photographer and great businessperson. We live in close proximity but hadn’t seen each other since lockdown. We met up for a coffee and I cheekily asked her if she would put my blog site on her Facebook feed to her 1700-odd followers/friends.

My intention was quite selfish really. I want to get my blog out and get the numbers up. 

The reaction I got wasn’t what I expected. 

I wanted them to say how hilarious and brilliant it was. No.

People were very caring and kind. And also the numbers were quite small. 

I think part of the problem was the post they first hit on was the one previous to this, and it’s probably one of the least good (crap in other words) posts I’ve written.

I guess the other problem was people (myself included) don’t want to read stuff that will bring them down.

So in answer to the lovely compliments, I can provide the following reality check…

Sensitivity

Brave. No. I’m quite cowardly. Although when it comes down to it, instead of being a dribbling retard on a commode, give me a bullet to the head any day.

Journey Makes it sound like a noble cowboy on horseback wandering towards the sunset, like Alan Ladd at the end of Shane. It’s very romantic but the reality it’s more of piss-up in the wind.

Generous. Well, I buy my rounds and I’ll help people just as I would like to think they would help me. But in this context I think generous is the wrong word. I don’t think I’m being generous  - in fact I think calling me generous is being very generous indeed! 

I’m doing a blog as I’m quite good at writing, I find it easy, and it gives me something to do when I’m not working. Also, I don’t feel after my diagnosis I have anything to lose really, and any adulation is gratefully received. 

Quite selfish really.

Sorry to anybody reading this. But my diagnosis doesn’t make my motives or persona more noble. It’s just a thing I have and I write about it. I’m no better than you. Unless your name is Xxxxxx Xxxxxx..

Go away!

Tired and stressed and I haven't even started

I did loads today. Cleaned the house, laundry, dog-walks, shopping, and now I'm waiting for my D&G buddies to join me for the Monday session.

I'm working tomorrow. It's a job at a church doing set-backs on buttresses. The job was split into 2 parts as they were unsure they've get all the funding in one go.

And then I got this email in the New Year, grandiosely  saying "We have received List B funding". 

So I went and measured up the stones for the B section of the job. I ordered the stones and thought nothing more of it.

I got there on Thursday to meet with the clerk of works and he says I'm doing all of it. No I'm not, I reply, I'm doing section B and I show him the email. 

A or B? Or both?

Ah! 'List B consent' is a type of restoration funding you apply for. It meant they had money for all of it. It was nothing to do with the A and B division of the work.

But the only A and B I was aware of was how the job was divided. It was a case of more information in that email than was needed. It certainly confused me.

Now I'm stressing. I'm not sure how I'm going to get on with this half of the job anyway. I haven't worked for 4 months and I was hoping it would be the last. I'll have to see how this unfit 52 year old body copes with it too. 

I'm going to have to be honest with everyone - especially myself - and take it from there. I can't deal with pressure in the slightest any more. Just as well I'm getting out of the profession.

First day back at work

So it actually went fine. And we got on well. And I'm feeling relatively normal, although I am running round the house quoting cards from Judge Dredd the Boardgame.

"Coddlestocks! Getting frazzled by Judge Death constitutes fair wear and tear!"

"Is not my garbage fine?"

Much better than Marvel. So much better. 

What a prat though, eh?

Anyway, work seemed rather natural and easy. Admittedly it is a straightforward job. J asked me if it would be more regular. I don’t know as yet. Give me 4 -6 days and I’ll be able to tell you. 

The steps in October were like the touch of a wraith. 

But it was good to work again with Fyfe. We got one well, the old stuff came out easily (always a plus) and the new stuff went in easy. 

Let’s see how the week progresses.

Televisual Offal

 Homefront down the Toilet

Many years ago when I was barely a lad, I worked for 2 years at The BBC. It was a funny place. A culture of moaning, appalling pay and even more-appalling hours.

If you've ever seen W1A it's pretty accurate. Well-meaning yet sinisterly insincere types making creative decisions they really weren't qualified to make for programmes that were too awful to watch.

I was there working in 'lifestyle' programming in a pre-internet age. 

As a researcher I used to beg and borrow any product for the show. Product-placement was rarely mentioned but it was rife. After the 'talent' and the cameraman were paid, there was almost nothing left in the budget. My wage in 1999 was £14.5 K/annum. 

This is why the children of the wealthy go into the media: few can afford it or have the connections to go in anywhere other than at the very bottom as a runner. I had saved up money to come to London with and eventually sold my car to keep myself going. It was tough.

At least in the BBC they treated runners better than they did in the private sector. (Shivers...)

The department wanted to expand the 'brand' (which was the latest buzzword) of Home Front. They'd done Home Front in the Garden and now they wanted to do a non-transmittable pilot for a new show.

Our Series Editor, the Cambridge-educated Franny Moyle, had a big meeting with us to impart the great news of the new branch of the brand!

"It's going to be called Home Front in The Kitchen. It's a half hour show, where we design and make a kitchen, then make a meal...in that kitchen!"

Tumbleweed.

Somewhere in the distance a dog howled.

I could just imagine these over-educated Oxbridge types, high on coffee and biscuits, managing to convince themselves the worth of this mediocrity.

I looked around the room, incredulous at such nonsense. Everyone looked resigned and exhausted, albeit partly due to the 80 plus hour weeks some of us were enduring. 

My mate Fergus looked at the floor for the entirety of the speech.

At the end of it, I said to Franny "Can I NOT be involved in Home Front in The Kitchen?" Career-suicide I know, but someone had to say something and that's where yours truly came up trumps.

Makes me laugh to this day.

So the premise is basically welding a design and build show onto a cookery programme. I wonder if a visual metaphor would elucidate further?

Home Front in The Kitchen

So you have the designer doing their bit, then hairy-arsed builders put the cabinets and worktop together, plumb it all in with grease and dirt, then someone cooks a lasagne. 

You could even have one of those wipe cuts or transitions from the plumber's arse to a board full of minced beef to signify the natural blend of the 2 genres. The possibilities are endless.

So they spent £120k of licence fee (possible £160K but here my memory is shaky) on a programme which it was obvious to me and others would never work. They then showed it to a focus group who hated it.

I should be running the country, me.

Time to take the pills...

I'm a plain-speaking man, Mr Herriot

Bored games

A friend was running a complex game Before Covid (BC) and there were up to 6 players at any session. The game was fantastic; everyone loved their characters and the vivid world they inhabited and how both the game and the characters were developing. 

Since coming out of Lockdown there are just 2 of us. The dynamic of the game for us just didn't function; it required more players for it to work and for other players' input. It felt like we were putting more effort  in and getting less out.

I sent an email to the Games Master (GM) to tell him how I/we felt and that it wasn't working for us and why, and that we would still come to the club but do a manageable board game for the evening instead. 

He's a sensitive chap and he's taken it badly. He always wants to be the GM/DM and doesn't really like playing. He often wants us to play games he's invested in, but we don't, and it's difficult. When you play a new system the rulebooks are needed for you to understand the mechanics of the game. Whilst available as PDFs most of us prefer the actual book. Bear in mind each D&D rulebook is around £30. That's a potentially significant investment. And then there's space, which for a lot of gamers is a bit of an issue.

And it takes a long time to learn these systems, which can be incredibly complicated even for experienced gamers.

D&D Manuals

I'm being more truthful to people these days, since my diagnosis. Now I definitely have less time on the planet I've come to the realisation that I should say how I feel.

"I'll get my own as not everyone is buying their rounds"

"I don't enjoy this anymore and I think we should try something else."

Non-emotional, factual expressions. 

When I worked in offices I would have discussions with colleagues and at meetings would express how the group felt, only to find that everyone had taken a step backwards and were staring at their shoes. 

Thanks guys.

Well it's me myself and I and life is very finite, so I am going to tell you what I think. In the past I used to hold onto stuff, being poor at confrontation, and these things would well-up inside of me like a volcano, then burst out like the big bang. I didn't know I was being rude and aggressive, but people told me I was. Nowadays I'm just going to let it out as quickly as appropriate and the results are proving much better for everyone. 

It's taken me 52 years to work this one out.

The Lucid Bit

So I'm feeling really bright and compos mentis at the moment. It's great. I wasn't sure I'd feel this good again. I think it's because I've rested my brain from too much D&D writing! 

Last week I visited my parents. We were having a conversation about wills. We normally have conversations about wills when I visit. They explained everything to me about the money and so forth (I find talking about money so boring) and I understood it. But there was something bugging me. I left the room, just to gather my thoughts. How can I tell them? No. There's no way other than to just tell them straight.

I came back to the table and told them they may outlast me, and there was no point in having this money if I was in a state where I couldn't use or benefit from it. Now this is something no parent ever wants to hear from their child, no matter what their ages. But this is the reality that people in our situation have to acknowledge. This was obviously very difficult for them, but I couldn't see any other way of telling them and it needed to be said. If I hadn't said it it would have been bugging me forever. 

We came to an understanding and everything is fine. I'm so sorry for my parents having to deal with this crap so late in their lives. It sucks. But we all have to accept reality.

FRONTAL-LOBE RANTING

Ukraine 

What brave people. What a great, principled president. 

And to those who have been apologists for enablers of Putin, I hope you feel ashamed. You are crypto fascists at best. 

'Useful Idiots' as Lenin used to call them.

These people are usually on the fringes of politics. On the right, Trump, Farage and Bannon who blame the European Union for antagonising poor Mr Putin, and on the left Diane Abbot, Jeremy Corbyn and Richard Burgon, who blame NATO for doing the same thing.

Liberty. And fuck Putin.

'Oh, he's no worse than our leaders.' I used to hear down the pub.

Well, he does happen to have his dissenters murdered. I'd say that was different for a start.

They don't call him the Demagogue of Democracy for nothing yet I've had Facebook 'friends' who thought he was great.

I de-friended them. Can't be bothered with people like that in my life.

More important is to NOT forget the people who are under his cosh at the moment. Celebrate their bravery and refusal to bow down to his murderous whim. Ordinary people attacked by military-might commanded by an international pariah for reasons of spurious imperial drivel.

Let's do all we can to help the Ukrainians.

Baron Harkonnen

The other day I went to see a George Duke tribute band. They were magnificent, playing Fusion which is one of my favourite forms of music. The keyboardist was really funny - like a little kid. He kept putting both thumbs up after we applauded - so un-rock and roll! What a player too - the feeling he had for his music was incredible.

The quiet parts of the music are not a green-light for drunk people to chat loudly. But that didn't stop the people in the front row.

Annoying person at George Duke tribute concert

I think you can tell this really annoys me - as much as people talking or on their phones at the cinema or people putting their feet up on a train seat. It's so inconsiderate. If you want to goof about loudly go back into the pub; don't spoil the concert for others.

An ex-girlfriend is a huge Stevie Wonder fan. She went to see him in Hyde Park and there were people talking all the way through it. She was incredulous. A living legend is playing live in front of you and you're talking about crap with your mates.

Anyway, the person who really annoyed me was sat in front, looked like the guy in the photo in a wig, ate with her mouth open and couldn't say please or thank you to the staff. 

Entitled witch.

Work sucks

I've got my 2 last jobs starting this Friday. I'm replacing some setbacks on some buttresses on a Church in Barnes - St Michael and All Angels.

Setbacks on a buttress

Set backs are the stones with angled, sloping fronts which allow water to cascade off. Quite a straightforward job and I'm doing it with my old mucker Fyfe, who will be leading the charge.

I won't be sorry to be leaving the profession. Most good tradesmen will tell you that the majority of contractors don't care at all about quality, and the standard of tradesmen these days is patchy. The reason people leave is because of the lack of quality control and the lack of appreciation for their efforts. 

About 3 years ago I worked on a project for a prestigious cemetery in London. The job was split between our contractor (I was subbing for them) and another contractor who had never done a job like this. The architect had never worked on a restoration project either. He was absolutely clueless, and had to be guided by experienced people in my contractors company in order to get through the process.

The other contractor had clearly never handled stone before (they couldn't believe the weight), used a cementitious repair mix on the stone which bled white everywhere and at the end got someone to hand-paint the grey cementitious mortar white to make it look like lime.

Both the architect and the other contractor won awards for their work. 

And that is why people leave.

Mandelbrot Cat Syndrome

Mrs Malaprop, I presume?

Over breakfast, Jacqui said she wasn't sure whether Stanley had pooped or not when she took the dogs out. (Stanley is a dog by the way, not an elderly relative.) It made me think of the cat metaphor, where there is a cat in the box who may be dead but also alive and the 2 can be simultaneous in the quantum world, but what is the threshold where the quantum world is superseded by reality and once you open the box you have either a live or dead cat?

What's it called? I'm trying to think of it, and all I can think of is *MANDELBROT CAT SYNDROME. And I know it's wrong but I can't think of the real name for it.

Come on come on....type in 'cat physics'. Of course it's Schrödinger's Cat.

Reminded me of that scene in The Office where they're doing a pub quiz and the question is 'Who has been president of Cuba since 1959?', and David Brent said Fray Bentos, which has proven to be a massive spanner in the works. No one can think of the answer and people are super annoyed at Brent.

Leader of Cuba 1959-2008

It's true though - the actual answer is much more evasive after a daft but similar-sounding answer is given in its place. 

I'm going start assembling the daft things I say from now on. 'Dimensions' keeps substituting itself for 'dementia'. I'll try and keep a log of these. Another word is 'Initiative', which in RPGs comes up all the time, and I keep forgetting it and all that comes out is 'er, er, er, er, er, um.' I end up having to look at the character sheets as I know where to look for the word.

*DISCLAIMER: not strictly a Malapropism, but almost.

It's Christmas!!!!

Tomorrow I'm going to see my Mum and Dad and my sister and nephew. I haven't seen them for months. Christmas was a disaster for us because -  like many families - one of us got Omicron and it scuppered visiting. That person was yours truly.

Nephew (not sure I'm allowed to say his name online) is a top gamer so I thought I'd take some stuff down with me. He's a great lad and I really enjoy spending time with him. He knows his uncle has this neurological condition and he was really sad when he found out, and that made me sad.

Anyway, I suddenly felt Christmassy at the prospect. I imagined Christmas trees and baubles and presents opened with wrapping everywhere and smiles and laughter. 

That made me feel a lot warmer inside. 

When emoting goes wrong

Many say "Oh I do that!" and words to the effect of  "Join the club!" when I tell them I can't remember words or can't start a job, or get increasingly flustered at starting a seemingly mundane task.

The thing is yes, we all have our foibles that get worse with age - forgetfulness and so forth, and with some of us we go through our lives with that particular bar set quite low - common examples would be poor spelling and absent-mindedness. 

People say I started off quite high in many regards, but I know certain aspects were always low. For example:

1. my propensity to procrastinate for things I wasn't interested in (covers 90% of everything)
2. low- attention span
3. total failure to really embrace modern capitalism
4. intolerance for entitlement (the irony of living in SW London!)
5. intolerance for teenagers
6. intolerance for...(I could go on ad infinitum but will stop here)
7. occasional social faux pas - although I'm keeping the Dalai Lama's advice to say nothing unless it's better than silence (when I remember to...)

These have all gotten (even) worse in the past few years, apart from #3 which has always been a flat-liner.

People say "well, I was always a poor speller" or "I'm forgetful too". 

But when you could previously do things to a certain level and you see those abilities diminish, it's not really much comfort when someone says they were never very good at them either. It's done with good intent, to quell the significance of the problem. 

'It's just a thing.' 

'It's not the end of the world.' 

'I get on okay without it.'

But it is significant to you because it's part of who you are or who you were. And now it's going or gone.

Something you used to find easy or automatic is no longer the case and that can be very frustrating.

So next time someone in a chronic condition says they're having difficulty with something, think before you say something well-meaning as what they hear might be something different to what was intended. 

And this is intended for me more than anyone. I am the biggest hypocrite in this regard as I often say clumsy things to people I would never like to be the recipient of.

And finally...

I didn't want to leave on a sanctimonious note, so changing the subject...

...I hate this time of year as gloomy old Winter stubbornly drags its heels, refusing to hand over to Spring.

By February/ March we've all had enough of the gloomy, short, cold days and are eager for signs of Spring. The days are getting longer now, and the trees will soon be in bud, but like anything you're desperately waiting for it, takes twice as long to arrive...! So it was great to see all the daffodils are out everywhere, bringing colour and joy to our lives. 

Come on Spring, do your thing!

Hope

You won't want to read this

Bob Geldof

There are days I wake up and I think, this is going to be a sunshine day - and then there are days when I wake having dreamt I live in a dreary flat with flatmates I don't know and we pass each other without any interaction, any warmth or connection. Many of my dreams are a version of this scenario. Today I woke up feeling pretty lousy. Hey, It's a Monday after all, and I hate Mondays. But this is different.

Unconscious bias

The recurring themes of these dreams are isolation, detachment, withdrawal, loneliness. It's not the best way to start the day.

But this is the reality of FTD, and maybe other dimensions... I mean dementias. (Keep doing that!)

It's a detachment from those we love, our fondest friends, our nearest and dearest. The invisible chords that bind us just dissipating every few weeks incrementally but significantly enough to notice. This is the worst part of dementia: the fact that we become isolated. Somedays you feel it more than others. 

Mondays are especially bad for it.

Procrastination

So after the storm I'm looking at the garden. The derelict shed we have. The thick polythene I stuck to the roof to keep it going was finally torn off. Now the shed is in all its glory - the rotten boards, the broken window, the torn roofing felt. And the tree. The tree that fell down 3 days ago. 

I just stop myself looking at it as it's depressing, so I come back in here to watch TV. Later I join Jacqui who's having an early lunch and apologise for doing nothing about the shed. She's fine with me being useless, which whilst being a let off, makes me feel worse in a way: the fact that I'm not much use anymore being verified by my wife, who is resigned to it all.

Harmless, really

I thought I would write and prepare more of the campaign for the Monday evening crew (The D&Gers), but it didn't work out that way,. Headache and some knotted muscle under my shoulder blade adding to the feeling of general crapness. 

We did walk the dogs this morning which is always good. It's a nice start to the day and gets the oxygen flowing. It was still really windy, which both the dogs and me really enjoy.

But while I changed a couple of things and did 10 minutes of work admin I'd avoided for the last week, I then watched Louis Theroux docs and a documentary film on WeWork, which was a cultish office rental business for millennials. It's fascinated me for a while, but the documentary was a bit supine really. I was expecting it to be more like the Fyre Festival film.

So I've just been trying to keep out the world's way for a bit. I shall attempt to rejoin as soon as practicable...