books – Page 3 – EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 22

A tweak to my working hours for the foreseeable future means a 5am alarm call, 6am report for duty. Which sounds horrific. But I finish at 2pm, giving a nice fat chunk of the day in daylight, free as a bird to do whatever I choose–or more realistically, chores. Honestly, this is a trade-off I’m very happy with. The commute is easier, I’m able to get in and out of shops more quickly and efficiently. Most importantly, it’s valuable time I can spend with C, in the garden, with a drink.

Postman’s hours ain’t so bad when you look into it.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 21

Rain. Finally. Thank all the heavens. The introduction of a hosepipe ban, one focussed cruelly on a single Caversham postcode—ours—usually heralds wetter weather. But the grumbles of thunder and dramatic skyscapes didn’t seem to give out like they promised. Until Thursday, when over the course of a half hour during drinks-o’clock the lights dimmed and the atmosphere thickened to the texture of a damp sponge. The deluge, when it came, was powerful enough to bounce off the stones.

Now, everything feels fresh and green again. There’s a mackerel sky up there this morning, and the light is limpid and gold. Coming off a week when I deliberately did very little to reset my poor brain, the rain felt like a signal and a kind of blessing. Things can and will be crappy, but nothing lasts forever. Patience and fortitude will finally bring the rain to your garden.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 20

It has been another—entertaining week, with existential fear for the future mangled up with some really rather nice moments. I’d elaborate but to be frank it’s probably best to put the whole thing in my rear-view mirror and move on.

I’m writing this on the train to That London for tomorrow’s Diamond League athletics meet at the London Stadium. I’ve booked next week off (pal Ryan sweetly called it a half-term break, which seems about right) and have fun things planned, including two trips to the cinema, a big family birthday and C and I’s 31st weddiversary. Time doth fly—doesn’t seem like more than a couple of months since the last one. The lesson for this week: look ahead and don’t stress about the things you can’t control.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 19

It feels to me that any period of hot weather lasting more than a couple of days invites comparisons to the summer of 1976—six weeks of unbroken sunshine, leading to drought so bad that domestic water supplies were restricted and, in some places, people were forced to rely on public standpipes. I was nine, and remember little of the obvious problems. It just seemed like a nice time to hang out in trees and eat ice lollies.

The point about 1976 was how unusual it was, especially for us Brits who see any two-day stretch of sunshine as manna from heaven. That’s already changing. Records for dry and wet weather are broken every year. I hope we don’t see another 1976, but I can’t say I’d be surprised by a summer where we have to queue in the streets with buckets for the morning cup of tea.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 18

A week full of drama and astonishing changes in fortune, none of which I can sensibly talk about in a public-facing forum. That sounds like a big fat tease, I know, and I hesitate to even mention it. But at least I’m entering the weekend in a slightly more stable frame of mind than on Monday night. The garden, as ever, remains a place to regain perspective and get grounded. I pulled a handful of gherkins from the plants this week, and the squashes we planted last Saturday are already shouldering up out of the bed. Now those are events I’m happy to celebrate loudly.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 17

We’ve finally hit a point in the garden where most of the heavy work is done and we can relax into the space a little. We’ve spent an awful lot of time, energy and yes, money, to get here. I shudder to think how much we’ve coughed up just for compost. But it’s worth every penny and bead of sweat to sit out at the end of a hard day in the sunshine, watching bees and butterflies hover and swoop, jackdaws and blue tits hop around the feeders while red kites make bombing runs overhead. The garden kept us sane over lockdown. Now, in an ever more lunatic world, it’s a truly safe space.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 16

We’ve been on us holidays. Still unpacking, both mentally and physically. There will be more about the whole experience next week in a diversion from the norm. But today here’s your expected slumgullion of goods and services.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 15

A real Jeckll-and-Hyde week. On Saturday I started feeling unwell—a killer combo of aches, shivers and hot flushes which rendered me horizontal and housebound until Wednesday. Once I was back on my feet, I had to negociate three days of social activity, including a trip to Oxford to see The Waterboys—of which much more next week. It would have been very easy to cry off on the extrovert duties—I had a great excuse, after all. I’m pretty sure I was no longer a carrier for whatever hit me at that point, but folks would have understood. For once, though, I felt I needed to be out and amongst friends. And you know what, I think it really helped in the recovery process. My hermit tendencies are strong. I need to not let them take over.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 14

I think I have to make a deal over Eurovision this year. I love the songs, the manic vibe, the surreal quality of the whole big-tent circus. But once the songs are done and the judging machine grinds into life—well, I lose interest rapidly. I know C feels the same way—she’s talking about giving the whole thing a miss this year. So, we’ll see. I suspect we’ll watch the performances and find out who won the following morning. Rooting for the UK of course (What The Hell Just Happened? has strong musical theatre vibes which may help it out) but I’ll tag my personal choice below.

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

The Swipe Volume 3 Chapter 13

All of a sudden, I’m playing catchup to my salad and spinach from the garden. The good green stuff is constantly in need of cutting and eating. Not a bad thing, of course—C and I are filled with fibre, vitamins and iron. And an armful of spinach melts to a few spoonfuls of concentrated goodness in a hot pan. I just wish the same could be said for my cucumbers and tomatoes, which are taking their own sweet time. Yes, I know it’s only May but still.

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