Sorry for the complete lack of blogging action over the Easter period. Not sure what happened. Just didn't want to blog. (Nothing biblical in that is there?) And thanks for your various comments and demands for a return (resurrection?) of househusbandnot. I didn't know you cared, although I do rather like Madame B's post-modern take on blogging whereby the blogger doesn't actually blog and the commenters just carry on commenting.
Anyway, back up and running with..er not much to say really. Had a good Easter weekend with one of my sisters in Kent. Highlights included: getting back in touch with an old friend who was down there too; stroking my sister's pigs; playing catch the bubbles with my sister's dogs; and generally hanging out in the country. (Although Kent is so deeply gentlefied I am not sure it really counts as country anymore. The main street of the village where my sister lives looks more like Marylebone High Street than Marylebone High Street, full or rich urban mothers and their well dressed kids who look more out of place in 'the countryside' as I do.)
Actually I like the countryside, despite the people and having to drive everywhere for everything. The animals thing is a bit much too, as I was reminded when my sister's cat dragged a massive rabbit in under the dining room table just before supper. And there was a really really noisy owl that kept me from my country retreat sleep. But it was a nice weekend.
Back in London, it did all seem quite loud and brash and aggressive. On the way back from the gym, the driver of the bus stopped because there was a gang of kids refusing to pay for their ride. Being England, we all tutted and looked affronted but didn't actually say or do anything to help the driver out. I got off the bus and walked home. I can't be doing with any of that bolloxing around. And one of the kids had a pit bull terrier that was eyeing my leg with interest. All very London, very..well boring really. And then later in the evening mrs househusbandnot got hustled by some woman claiming she was a neighbour and needed a few quid for her electricity meter. (I know it was a hustle because this woman did the same thing to me a few years ago.) So mrs hhn and I ended up having a row about who is hustling who, and whether or not you should answer the door to anyone in the evenings in London.
mrs hhn has trundled off into the London morning back to work, and I am back here working on the website and trying to figure out what I learned last week about work. There was something. but I can't remember what it was. Oh, yeah. Do what you want to do, and what people think you are good at.
Just spoke to mrs hhn who was asking if I had written a blog yet today. I said yes, but that I thought it wasn't very interesting. She says that doesn't matter, as long as I am getting back into the programme, which I will do in the next few days. Thanks for your patience and loyalty.
Apr 10, 2007
Apr 2, 2007
MMMM Onday
Since we spoke last I have - amongst other things - been invited to go and meditate at Stonehenge at six am in the morning. Although I appreciate people need different stuff in their life - or perhaps because I understand that people need different stuff in their life - I will not be taking up this invitation.
Speaking of people needing stuff, I ended up sitting next to a life coach at a wedding on Saturday evening. I'm kind of on the fence about life coaching, but we ended up doing fun stuff like deciding what animals everyone else was at our table and talking about what we would be if we had absolute freedom etc. It was fun, because it was just social and we were having a drink, and it was much better than talking about the congestion charge or reality tv. I have no idea if I was being coached in the conversation, or if this particular coach is writing up her blog as we speak with comments about sitting next to a freak on Saturday night. But it was a good wedding conversation. (I guess anything is fun if it means as much as it needs to, and if the person you are talking to is engaging and interesting.)
The wedding was a heavy duty mid-afternoon to midnight gig, involving three different venues around Chelsea, including a great church where Henry VIII married his third wife. (Insert your own gag about this here. The vicar certainly did.) By about 10 pm, mrs hhn and I were ready for Mr Beddington, having become pretty light weight over the last few years when it comes to socialising. Also, the whole point of weddings - I think anyway - is to enjoy love: whether it is seeking it out, or having it, or watching the bride and groom radiate with it. And all that smiling and feeling good about the world gets quite tiring. (I am also a really bad cryer at the speeches, so was pretty much emotionally wiped out by the time it came to pudding.)
I may have mentioned in the past that one of the real regrets about my wedding is that I did not do much dancing. Actually what happened was the new mrs hhn and I did the first dance, and the second, and the third, and absolutely no-one joined us on the dance floor, so we ended up looking pretty foolish up there on our own. So I always try and join in the dancing at weddings now, so that the bride and groom don't get marooned like we did at ours. But it was Irish dancing at this wedding on Saturday, so I gave it a miss.
My other wedding habit it wandering around thanking people at the end of the evening. Again, I managed to avoid this too on Saturday, which was a relief to mrs hhn, who has - in the past - been seen to be physically prising me from the bar where I am buying the DJ a drink or congratulating the harpist or telling the vicar he did a jolly fine job. (I think I'm being polite and affable. mrs hhn thinks I am being drunk and insane.)
In other news, didn't get that contract I interviewed for the other day, which was annoying. But I got another piece of work...writing a blog. Strange but true. Sadly I can see very little cross over between this blog and that one, but will see what I can do in the coming months. And will let you know how it it going.
I am not sure if it was the conversation with the life coach, or something mrs hhn said to me on the way home in the taxi from the wedding about being who you need to be (it's the sort of thing mrs hhn likes to talk about when she's had a few water melon martinis) , but am currently thinking I need to concentrate more on getting more writing jobs - although, having trudged through that dull para about why I didn't dance at the wedding on Saturday, you may disagree.
What else? No, I'm done for today.
Speaking of people needing stuff, I ended up sitting next to a life coach at a wedding on Saturday evening. I'm kind of on the fence about life coaching, but we ended up doing fun stuff like deciding what animals everyone else was at our table and talking about what we would be if we had absolute freedom etc. It was fun, because it was just social and we were having a drink, and it was much better than talking about the congestion charge or reality tv. I have no idea if I was being coached in the conversation, or if this particular coach is writing up her blog as we speak with comments about sitting next to a freak on Saturday night. But it was a good wedding conversation. (I guess anything is fun if it means as much as it needs to, and if the person you are talking to is engaging and interesting.)
The wedding was a heavy duty mid-afternoon to midnight gig, involving three different venues around Chelsea, including a great church where Henry VIII married his third wife. (Insert your own gag about this here. The vicar certainly did.) By about 10 pm, mrs hhn and I were ready for Mr Beddington, having become pretty light weight over the last few years when it comes to socialising. Also, the whole point of weddings - I think anyway - is to enjoy love: whether it is seeking it out, or having it, or watching the bride and groom radiate with it. And all that smiling and feeling good about the world gets quite tiring. (I am also a really bad cryer at the speeches, so was pretty much emotionally wiped out by the time it came to pudding.)
I may have mentioned in the past that one of the real regrets about my wedding is that I did not do much dancing. Actually what happened was the new mrs hhn and I did the first dance, and the second, and the third, and absolutely no-one joined us on the dance floor, so we ended up looking pretty foolish up there on our own. So I always try and join in the dancing at weddings now, so that the bride and groom don't get marooned like we did at ours. But it was Irish dancing at this wedding on Saturday, so I gave it a miss.
My other wedding habit it wandering around thanking people at the end of the evening. Again, I managed to avoid this too on Saturday, which was a relief to mrs hhn, who has - in the past - been seen to be physically prising me from the bar where I am buying the DJ a drink or congratulating the harpist or telling the vicar he did a jolly fine job. (I think I'm being polite and affable. mrs hhn thinks I am being drunk and insane.)
In other news, didn't get that contract I interviewed for the other day, which was annoying. But I got another piece of work...writing a blog. Strange but true. Sadly I can see very little cross over between this blog and that one, but will see what I can do in the coming months. And will let you know how it it going.
I am not sure if it was the conversation with the life coach, or something mrs hhn said to me on the way home in the taxi from the wedding about being who you need to be (it's the sort of thing mrs hhn likes to talk about when she's had a few water melon martinis) , but am currently thinking I need to concentrate more on getting more writing jobs - although, having trudged through that dull para about why I didn't dance at the wedding on Saturday, you may disagree.
What else? No, I'm done for today.
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