It has been quite some time since I properly wrote here, or anywhere else for that matter. That pause for reflection was the last I really had before a whirlwind couple of months. Between then and now, we made a feast of a trip down south, managed to pack in an extended work trip – traipsing about and driving in the Netherlands for my sins – and finally got a little more clarity around the sword of Damocles hanging over my head in the latest iteration of organisational transformation. From here on out, I am slightly more in control of my schedule, so I am hoping as the year wraps up things ease up a bit.
Our one big thing this summer was packing ourselves into our old, beat up Qashqai and plumbing the depths of the South of England for things to do. It was either that, Wales or a pocket sapping trip abroad. Given the uncertainties around work, and commonsense – a five year old and an eighteen month old do not lend themselves to long car journeys, the neighbour to the south won. We ended up somewhere east of Southampton, the suburb of Woolston across the Itchen river, being the best balance of things to do and cost. The apartment, perched on the top of one of a number of high-rise buildings in central Woolston, was marketed as a river view. It was in fact that, if squinting and head contortions count as a view. As with city-centre apartments, there were the odd cigarette butts left in the lift, as well as spilled liquids in the car park. That notwithstanding, it served well for what it was – somewhere to lay our heads at night before chasing the next thrill. The week passed fairly quickly, with pit stops at Peppa Pig world, the old city walls, the Tudor House and Gardens, King John’s Palace and the SeaCity Museum being highlights.
The Netherlands was equal parts interesting and terrifying, the terrifying bit being mainly driving on the A4/A15/A24 between Den Haag and the Europoort Area. Part of it was it being my first time driving in the Netherlands, and the odd habit of some road users cutting in across three lanes to turn off at an exit. Things were not helped by a crack in one of the bridges along the way, which meant lane closures and a thirty minute drive morphing into an hour on more than a few occasions. The interesting bit was a chap whipping out his ding-dong and peeing against the wall of the Interior Ministry, in broad day light. One would think there would be usable toilets in the building he was peeing against, though perhaps the can he had in hand (he seemed quite tipsy) might have clouded his judgement.
On the weeks when I have not travelled for work, it has been three or four days on the train into the office. The silver lining in that – if there is one to be found in waking up at 5.00am to brave the gauntlet of Southwestern Railway’s neither here nor there reliability – is that I have managed to get a few more books down, and have three on the go. Stephen Fry’s reading of a tweaked Odyssey and Tom Griffiths’ The Laws of Thought have been the picks of a pretty bunch.
I suspect The Laws of Thought hit home particularly because of where L and F are, their language skills evolving quite rapidly from day to day it seems. L is in a phase where she invents words, writed rather than written, knowed rather than knew are a few of her special ones. In Griffiths’ telling, she is applying Bayesian inference towards inventing and working out the rules of language rather than wait to learn them. She is apparently also a keen maths nerd. I secretly hope she follows the path of three fifths of her immediate family who are all in STEM :) F on the other hand is beginning to recognise words and songs. Heads, shoulders, knees and toes, Baa Baa Black sheep and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star are a few of her recurring favourites. Just about every toy in sight is mine, every animal is a duck, and every moving mechanical contraption is an airplane.
As I write this, I have the steady drum of rain against the window as my accompaniment, Austen and Boelo’s tails a far cry from the heat waves and near drought that were the sound track of summer. The clocks have gone back, there is a bite to the air again and in unguarded moments the wind finds its way through any number of jackets. For now at least, the weather brings a sense of quiet, sameness and sanity. All is well with the world again, I suppose.
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