Category: art

I have started getting into the habit of waking well before the morning alarm goes off, think ‘oh well, no point in staying put’ and dragging my sorry ass into the shower. When the alarm is set for half five in the morning this can feel like I’m starting my day in the middle of the night.

On Friday I was going through the usual start-up sequence—20 past 5, Storm Darragh thumping at the windows, just about to fall out from under the duvet, when C rolled over, slung her arm around me and pulled me back. It was entirely subconscious. She doesn’t remember doing it. But it gave me the ten minutes I didn’t know were necessary, drifting sweetly in the warm embrace of my very love. When I finally extricated myself, I felt thoroughly rested, utterly content, ready for what would be a challenging morning at the coal face. Those ten minutes of simple contact gave me the strength I needed.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

Pity the December baby. Born in the darkest month, doomed to have their birthday forever superseded by all that Christmas nonsense. It’s impossible to book anywhere for a nice meal out, you end up with a shared birthday/X-Day gift, and there’s the general feel that your special day just isn’t that—well, special. My extended clan of friends and family has many Sagittarians in its ranks, including a Christmas Day and a New Year’s Eve child. Honestly, it sucks. This festive season, spare a thought and a little love for the December babies in your life. They didn’t choose to be born this way.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The day after, either through luck or some sort of divine prescience, TLC and I had booked a couple of days off work. It would have been tempting to spend the time staring bleakly at walls or screaming into pillows. Instead, we’d planned to do a bit of decorating. This turned out to be the best decision we could have made. Two days deep-cleaning and painting the kitchen was a mindful, healing activity, taking a room apart and remaking it as a cleaner, nicer place in which to be. It kept us off social media and news feeds, but above all left us feeling much more positive. Change is inevitable, whether for bad or good, and things happen in cycles. Eventually, the kitchen will always need a good clean-down and a fresh lick of paint, and things will feel all the better for it.

Today, we start on the conservatory. The great work continues.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

I was out being social like a real live boy this week, something I like to do to persuade you humans I am one of you. The pub we gathered in had, of course, oranged itself up in readiness for next week’s Night Of Spooky. So, my pals and I were quietly enjoying ourselves with refreshing beverages, cheap and cheerful food and a board game (returning also a wave to pal Kelly who can provide further evidence that I do go out on occasion) when a great line of students poured in through the front door. All dressed in some manner of Halloween accoutrement, the line seemed endless and the queue carried on for a good twenty minutes before petering out. Everyone seemed cheerful and there was no sign of ill behaviour. But it seemed strange to me they’d choose the Thursday before All Hallow’s Eve to do a pub crawl. Unless this was just stage one of a much larger, more elaborate ritual which will culminate in mass revels on Broad Street on the night itself. It goes to show how big a deal Spooky Season is now, as a first flare in the run-up to the end of the year. By the next Swipe, the evenings will have properly started to close in, and the darkness will begin to rise. I hope you’re all preparing yourselves.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

Plague is in the house. TLC caught a nasty bug on one of her days in Oxford last week which has effectively laid her out flat for a week. As we share everything, it was only natural that she passed it onto me. Subsequently, after a morning at work where the numbers in spreadsheets danced a nimble foxtrot before my uncomprehending eyes and I felt my throat closing into a fist clenching acid-coated razor blades, I figured it was time to pay attention to the bleedin’ obvious and hit the eject.

So, today is Friday and I’m having a rare sick day. I’m wrapped in my cosies and bumbling round the house while C does a half-day of remote work. I plan to make a healing soup from leftovers and freezer finds, slump in front of some Star Trek but, more importantly, get a jump on this week’s Swipe.

See, even at my most vulnerable, my thoughts are of you, lovely Readership. I hope you’re grateful. Send hugs.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.