Gang Thegither

Freedom and Whiskey do, said Burns, and yes indeed.  

Listening to the man from Aberdeen at Stravaigin, an 8 quid cab ride from the hostel to an area of Glasgow I never once visited in the 99-00 year.  Session worthwhile even just in hearing here first the news of a Danish hydrogen island, as I devoured the Haggis and quaffed Talisker for dessert.

The North London derby was a dream… Tottenham get battered, everywhere they go.  Right into smashed flower pots and questionable Asian bus riding tactics.  But at least a perfect arrival into Glasgow in the rain and the early checkin and (incredibly) the Krapp’s poster.  What a finish for this Scottish stay that will be.  Just need to get through the Teams call pre-Champions League this eve.  First, more Scotch at the Bon Accord!  

Admiralty

 Quickly, on a Saturday….

Morris, the Japanese, hope to see him again with wife along.

Trafalgar, the magic place.  Just being there a delight.

Almost feel like bypassing the 4 seasons but cannot because prayers have been promised and “no one will come back like Vivaldi”.

So many kids running around, so much life.  I am bringing a strawberry to a church now.  Bears said he defaults in such places betimes, and so shall I.  

Remember earlier - the man on the Thames, you should have chatted with?  Age of Aquarius conspiracy theorist, New World Order, avoided Holocaust, febreeze with two “e”s

Life. Breathe it in.  Stop what you are doing and BREATHE.

Days of Feste and Bukayo

A privilege to watch that kid in action, what a difference when he came on.  The Upper Tier a haven of tourists recording memories on their phones, a surreal state of affairs to be there solo, maskless in a still-COVID threatened world.  And see the work emails on the stadia wifi, too.

Earlier in the day was late to the Globe due to delays at the ill-advised stop at Hillingdon.  But it worked out.  Time to check the messages to see the missed calls and E1-related emails, before dropping bags and settling in nicely at the back of the yard for the best of Twelfth Night, the songs especially.  Time.  Along with As You Like It, surely the favourite of all.

Generator hilarious, the bar main section closed off, and many renovations, but the place is the same, from first visit in 2002 and return in 2007.  Reminders of those slightly missed connections that have all lead to one (divine?) outcome, your mind half in Africa on this trip, a ring firmly on your finger.  Funny to get the chance to scramble out the requested email to Gogan from the room, avoiding the call with DM thanks to a timely email from the Thames.   Stressful and fun to carry out the hide and seek.

So up and away to Stratford, and we’ll see how the last three days of “isolation” go.  Feels odd and yet uncomfortable to shirk a “legal duty” in the age of the plague, but needs must.  I would trade the Ox pilgrimage and Globe/Emirates attendance for a thousand pound, after all.  Didst perceive?

Missed Calls

Preparing to head out from Oxford, with one last stop at Alice’s shop.  A sadly nostalgic turn of a prior life, wondering what might have been, and on how things unfolded.  The trees and bit of Thames still there for the Rioja, and a solid hangover nursed through into the Chairing of D&I that went well but for the sensitive “go after them” moment.  Always something.  

Slept well in this room, the first of the isolation chambers.  Frustrating to miss the NHS call this morning that could have bought some time and relief, but it is a stress that must just be accepted.  What will be will be.  Nil symptoms, except an ache for the past and its complexities, as this trip serves its intent as an overlong goodbye opportunity.  

A joyous day ahead, from Illyria to the Emirates.  Enjoy it.  They are not long, the days of wine and roses…  even so, it feels like there is enough time in it for multiple existences.  This feels like an inflection point.  The exquisite music of a strange procession of the past.  Look on it, the Alexandria you are losing.

Trace Elements

The Wifi on the Oxford Tube, again.  How long has it been?  Over 5 years, and even that was the briefest of visits.  Now a return under the auspices of the NHS monitoring and the responsibility to chair the D&I call…

HOURS LATER, and Luna’s a perfect choice.  Already a minimal amount of work to fit the time and so far no follow-up.  So strange to be back in old footsteps.  Eagle/Child, Royal Oak, 87, Dew Drop, Christ Church chapel and sword (worry not for tomorrow), and the Bear, where a quick call was fielded, because it’s fun.  Random conversation yields up another London pub to visit, the Raven, with maternity connection.  Just because.  

Now awaiting the real nostalgic visit, bottle of wine by the weeping willow on Fisher Row, before back to comforts of bed on this election eve.  Such events hanging in the balance, even as the spoken prayer’s counsel is to foreswear tomorrow…  no one knows.  Bless the wife a continent away. Nourish her and deliver her (and the paperwork!) safely “home”.  

“Most Welcome”

The Evensong, notable especially for that bloke behind who took such offence to the photos and video inside the Chapel.  Surprised he went so far as to bring in the police… tried to avoid his call-back, but in the end had to acknowledge.  First dropping of the “7 week pregnant” and escaped given the coppers’ failure to pursue the deletions into the second level.

Guy spoiled the chance for a candle lighting, but perhaps try that on the Cherry Orchard return, which has now been confirmed, along with Easyhotel temptation, haha.  Still enjoyed as a free way to kill time and reflect on the appreciation of Psalm 37 over 40 and the wondrous surprise of RLS name drop on a gorgeous prayer that I’ll repeat in their stead on future occasions. Also new to me that Christ descended into Hell for the first three days, but suppose that makes sense and is something I ought to have known.

First day a solid one, and Sir Ian to come in one hour.  Humility in realizing that if I saw a guy filming soliloquies tonight it would probably infuriate me.  The juxtapositions continue to entrance.  (Well not entrance, but you know…)

Founders Redux

Back again.  Thames, Tate, Globe all looking as lovely as ever.  The Weekend welcoming you with a song from the Zanz soundtrack.  Fathers wearing matching jumpers with their kids.  Accordion player beneath the Millenium.  The full row of seats overnight not enough with the last few sleepless nights.  Thoughts of the second name in honour of Guinness, Dent, and Drysdale.  The travel's principle of growth, indeed.  Nice to see this place and Daggers surviving the test of time, although 6 quid for the pale ale is steep.

Can't fully enjoy the moment as there is a contract to write, funnily enough.  And hours to input at some point later at the Green Man.  Mirriam is almost on the final leg, Zim before Zam.  Can only trust in faith that her (their?!) transit has been a smooth one.  Awaiting confirmation soon, awaiting the noon bell for Fish and Chips, awaiting sweet rest and the true start of this trip tomorrow.  Savour and Bask in it all.  

Kingdoms may come, Kingdoms may go / Whatever the end may be

Old Father Thames keeps rolling along / Down to the mighty sea

“There’s a Baby in There”

Still one of the great quotes of all time.  No one knows tomorrow.  But can long revel in the triumph of that yesterday.  “Excellent news” indeed as the Art-doc exclaimed.  Positivity.  Now just a few more errands before the return to the skies, and first return to Heathrow in almost two years.  Let’s have it.

We have a Heartbeat

From the sleepless night, to pulling out into blocked traffic that required doubling back to the garage and a sprint to catch the ferry.  From the initial questionnaire with Liz, nurse graduate the year M was born, to the initial Rittenberg ultrasound with the old machine and concern over “non-viability” to the Coburg Social to St Andrew’s Church to the basement level 1 and the Spryfield necklace, Anjelique and the other varieties of combinations by which life - life! - prepares to enter the world…

There’s the baby, said Christine, or something to that effect.  I couldn’t say, my eyes were misting.  6 weeks, 2 days, 6 mm.  An unbelievable moment in time, from doubt over the “secret plans” to full steam ahead with the Doc’s blessing.  Just too much to handle in some ways without some degree of faith.  Now to get the last work needed done and get on the planes.

Time will show, and it has shown, and it incidentally didn’t take long to realize that Rittenberg channels the energy of Art Drysdale of old.  Next appointment is Nov 22, let’s see us through to that, perhaps with CONCACAF and even the World Series as optional TO drop-ins as part of this mix.  

To quote Mr. Charles, God is great…. Whoa indeed.  Whatever the spirit that should be admired in the infinite pantheon of this universe, we give praise and more welcome. Much more from across the pond anon.

Glasgow, EH...

Finalizing the weeks ahead, the nostalgia tour continues with confirmation of cheap accommodation at the Euro Youth Hostel on the Clyde for a few nights.  The right call, with opportunity for work and short travel to Edinburgh, 22 years on from the initial arrival and 12 since KBJ and Eli's win at Dallas.  Appropriate timing for return, as the next 10 years promise other great changes.

Assuming we get across, of course.  So much has been booked, all hinging on the outcome of Monday morning's appointment.  What odds of having it set down prior to the miscarriage, only not to cancel and see it through a day before M's departure for Zambia.  The MSI application has been mailed, we'll see in future so many things...

Have had this post in draft for some time.  Through two trips to the Parker Street SDA, many toilet visits in which the right colour emerged every time, stinking farts, and mood swings over drunken antics and terrible massages and pyjamas that were not on sale.  Unfathomable in ways to think that the first four month visit is ending in about 30 hours, and in less than 48 we'll both have left the continent.

Much in the balance it is hard to put into words.  The church experience in this time has been unique, recognition of just how powerless you are at the hands of fate, in such a time of waiting.  But in this unexpected way, the plan (if there is one) appears to have some shape.  The appreciation, the magic, the wonder, the bonding heightened all the more.  Grand-Pre, Evangeline, and Acadie.  The boat again for another sunset drift.  The detection at Nick's on account of the second hand smoke.  The recent classical records and Bloom purchase leading to G.K. Chesterton's Crazy Tale today before the Nshima.  The Mozart hunch at the back of the mind seems right after all.  Will be fun to start googling those items rather than the PR and early symptom checks.  Tomorrow morning we wait for reassurances and information.  Let's hope the news is good, and the next post drops from the Green Man of olde.

Amen.  

13 minutes

The time remaining in Nashville, as Alfonso Davies and his men look to hold the US and continue on the road to Qatar.  How that plays out over the course of the Octagon will be fascinating to follow, the timeline aligned with the unfolding of the 40 week story to my left in the Lucky t-shirt.  Farts and laughter, walks and too-spicy soups, 10 minute meditation and the finishing up of various new books.  Still waiting impatiently for the portal review, although the NS medical care application poised to be mailed out tomorrow.  Lots to do in the next week as the remainder of the nostalgic UK tour gets planned with the hope of execution, with WhatsApp voice messages and YouTube clips of the day to be played in Zambia.  What a world it is.  Look back on these nights, with hopeful optimism.