Quite proud

Hello all, I am feeling quite proud to be British today. I have just watched Gordon Brown address the Labour party conference. What a man, what a speech!

Other things on my mind... Pesky Israel, not very happy with them at the moment, trying to bomb the rather lovely, but dare I say it, possibly an itsy-bitsy bit deserving Syria.

We are nearly mid-way through Ramadan, and me and the cons have survived well this year. This weekend we are going out proper Bahraini style, iftar, Seef, movies more shopping and eating. Ramadan is actually a little bit cool, sometimes.

I am probably going to sack someone this week. Always nice. I do so much enjoy ruining lives.

I am missing Hackney too much at the moment though guys, only the nice bits obviously. I have longings for The Dove and The Cat and Mutton. I can live without the permanent gloom and stuff, I just want the piggy and the booze.

It is quite lonely being the boss, and I only really have one friend at work at the moment. The other coordinators are largely dickheads. I am also decidedly grumpy that some people at school wander around calling themselves Dr. This and Dr. That. Their bloody Ph.D comes from the University of Goa, not quite a correspondence course, but you get the idea. It really pisses me off.

Cons is working very hard at the moment, tucking his magazine in. Arthur is fat and Kofi is black. Not much else to say really...

Lots of love, muchly looking forward to France you dudes.

Love Ho
XXX

three different ways

The past comes at me like future shock.

The missed and unrealised then, is the same is the not knowable of tomorrow. It is that that hides just out of reach, beyond the horizon. If we had realised then the seeds we were sowing, then we would have farmed a different crop. If could know of what tomorrow would bring, we would aim for a different lot.

Music is the key. Old music, forgotten music; music discovered again.

All life’s wanderings have to have a soundtrack and whilst the memories might be jangled, the sound track to all our past musings is as clear today as it never was. The music means something; today, perhaps, more than it ever did. We are older now, more conscious of the life we have lived - what we have done or not done, the time we have wasted and the time we could sell for a million dollars a million times over if only we could pin it down, distil and bottle it. And we are aware of what time we have left; still aeons, but we all think we should have done things sooner, or at least by now. Like Fall in love and stay there. Like have children, at the very least one. Like seeing more and worrying less. Like living life to its very core instead of just talking and worrying about it.

We don’t ever realise the songs that will bring us back, the rhythms that will bring us home: A curled, looped beat at the end of a track; a guitar riff and cymbal crash; some forgotten lyric, some transient rhyme. Each has the power to transform and transfer us, now, in real time: today’s date becomes a fallacy as we are transported back to a different reality.

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This section has been deleted due to over zealous use of vitriol. My apologies to those that have already read the original post; i was not in a good place when i wrote it.

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She wakes to the sound of a radio in another room. It is quiet but the song is familiar and penetrates her sleep. Her dreams are altered; what was a flying is now falling, what was bliss is now terror. She twists and turns in her sleep; the covers thrash and flail. From a distance, with the early sunlight piercing the shutters like an ill fitted dam, she looks far younger than her actual years; she looks innocent - girl like - her pale blue pyjamas shimmer in the solar glare.

She is wrestling with sleep just as surely as she is being wrested from it. She does not want to wake up.

XxX

the best ad ever??

enjoy

XxX

Where i live

I'm so proud....

The Bahrain hotel that's mad, bad and boring | Middle East - Times Online

XxX

the things that float your boat

Say kids, what time is it?

Quite excited this evening as it goes. I’ve just discovered that the space where the rubbish gym used to be and the pool table - both of which have been moved btw, but we never use - is being converted into a coffee shop. I knew that already, they have been doing the conversion for the past 6 months, but now I know its name. It’s going to be a Dôme no less. Now I have nver had a coffee from said chain before but according to the franchise holders, this news warrants the hanging of the biggest banner I have ever seen across the first two floors of our building. I kid you not, this thing is huge. Bigger, even, than those banners they use to hang.... well, actually, I can’t think of when anyone would have thought about using a banner so large.

I will get pics in daylight on Friday and you will see what I mean.

Anyway, what else? Well, we have been here a year now. Heidi turned a few weeks ago and I moved over on Sunday. Seems strange to write it, somehow; as if in doing so we are a step further out of a closing door. I guess that’s why I wanted to blog, to let you all know that I have a glass to the wall; i can still hear you.

O yes, it is Ramadan in a weeks’ time. Think of us when you walk into a pub next Thursday night ordering your first pint or light a ciggie whilst it’s still daylight. Think of us next time only an AMT latte with an extra shot will get you through your meeting. Think of us and know that we are thinking of you.

Take care ya’ll

XxX