Category: Personal Musings

Posts about me

bookmark_borderAlmost 50

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Apparently old age hits when you are 68, or so I read. I’m not sure why that is, and I’m sure smarter people than me have outlined the reasons in great detail but, on the whole, it sounds about right given that I’m soon to turn 50 and I do not think I’m all that old.

Some days I feel old but I’m not really 50, I’m somewhere in my late twenties I think, it’s hard to pin down an exact number but that’s where my head usually lands when someone asks me how old I am. Isn’t that weird.

The truth of the matter is that I am very aware that I’m about to turn 50 but that’s entirely down to the fact I have an almost 2 year old son. He is at once a constant source of delight and wonder, and a reminder of my advancing mortality.

When Becca and I first got together, she shared her desires to have a baby. It was something I’d consider in the past (and obviously decided against) but with Becca it felt right, it felt like where our lives would head naturally and I quickly found myself delightedly agreeing.

With that thought in my head I found myself starting to think what would be required to bring a healthy baby, safely into the world. From conception, through the pregnancy, and the birth itself I admit there were many worries on my mind. As soon as we knew we were pregnant, despite all the checkups going well, it was hard for me not to worry about the baby being healthy, and when it was time to head to the delivery suite my head was full of conflicting thoughts should the worse happen. Thankfully it didn’t, with Jack arriving safe and sound, and Becca handling all of it (and the post-partum issues) with the strength and compassion I knew to expect from her.

There was also one recurring thought that still pings around my brain. It started soon after we agreed that we would be having a baby and continues to this day.

How much of my son’s life will I see?

How old will I be when Jack starts school, how old when he learns to drive, when he turns 21… 30?

Early on I hoped these thoughts would drive me to get healthier and fitter, the longer to live to see him grow up, and whilst that hasn’t really panned out, it’s still a big factor of my thinking.

I know a lot of this train of thought was driven by the (still recent) passing of my Dad. He was only 73 and though my Mum is still going strong in my head I’m always hoping I can at least make it to the same age my Dad was, that’ll make Jack 25 years old and hopefully I’ll grow old with some comfort that he’s turned out ok (I mean, I know he will, but I’m a parent, we worry about these things).

It is a strange thing to have your mortality so clearly outlined. It’s certainly not something I’ve previously considered in great depth largely because I was only really concerned about myself. Turning 40 was seen as a celebration and a chance to mark ‘half a life’ lived, but with the constantly running commentary in my head centred around how many more years of life with Jack I’ll manage, turning 50 seems much more daunting, not to mention so much closer to, well, death.

Wow.

I should pause at this point and remind you, dear reader, that I tend to write these posts with only a rough idea of what I’m going to say in my mind, barely an outline, and usually only a starting point. So forgive this rather morbid turn!

OK, so I’ll be 50 soon but I don’t really FEEL that age… that said can someone tell me how am I supposed to feel? From what I can tell, if my closest friends are anything to go by I don’t really see much difference, and whilst I know these days I’m mostly just a bit tired I think that’s more about living with a toddler than anything to do with how many years I’ve lived on this planet.

I am almost 50. I have zero complaints. I have a great life, have had many great life experiences, and find myself settled, content, and happy, with a beautiful family. I feel loved by many people, and none of that has anything to do with my age.

I’ll admit I do harbour a deep-seated desire to make sure that when I do pop my clogs I’ll leave my beautiful wife and beautiful boy financially sorted but that’s still a work in progress. For now we have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and we laugh more often than we cry… actually we laugh more often than most things, we are a happy little pack of weirdos!

A few years ago, with this number starting to loom, I started a little plan I called Fit for Fifty, and it was going pretty well. I got back into running and completed a few 5KM runs. I got heavily into cycling, and last year I had about 5 different organised ‘sportives’ booked. I was driven. I was focused! Annnnnnd I hadn’t really taken into account the time it takes to train for these things versus the time it takes to nurture a baby…

I didn’t make ANY of those sportives and it’s only really now, since I’ve recently managed to get back out on my bike a couple of times, that I realise just how much of a back seat my plans had taken.

Yes, for the best of reasons (there is literally NOTHING I wouldn’t do for that boy) but it still has an impact on my physical and mental health. I’m slowing getting back into it, but still struggling to find time, and when I do have time I’m exhausted and struggle with motivation, it’s a horrible cycle (no pun intended) to be stuck in!

Perhaps this post is my way of giving myself a kick. Or perhaps that was when I signed up for the 2024 Etape Caledonia cycle sportive (55 miles up some big hills), either way there is a vague sense of being able to get my fitness goals back on track. Like I said I have a much bigger incentive than ever before, and I’m doing my best to use the happiest moments with my wife and son to coax my exercise mojo out from its hiding place.

So I’m turning 50, so what! It’s just a number and as I’ve mentioned here before, with life starting to open up again I can look ahead to the future with hope and love. It’s just a number, and if nothing else matters then I can take a look at how all of my closest friends are ageing and take solace that I’m still not quite as old as them, even if it is only a matter of months…

bookmark_borderUsed

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This may come as a surprise to some of you but, believe it or not, I’m not really that into fashion. I know, you’d never tell from looking at me, right?!!

It’s not that I don’t understand fashion and the part it plays in society but personally I veer more towards practical clothing, even if I do try and incorporate as much colour as I can (high street men’s clothes are so DULL). I know fashion is more than brands and the latest big names, but the whole thing just makes me feel like an outsider and that’s not just because of the exorbitant prices you seem to need to pay to be able to wear the latest trendy clothes. Don’t get me wrong I am happy to pay for good quality items it’s just that I refuse to pay over the odds for something simply because it has the designer/brand name stamped all over it.

As such I’ve never really given all that much thought about how much I spend on clothes; if I’ve needed new trousers or a shirt, I’ve typically found something in one of the bigger chains that works for me. Good enough and all that. However with the last few years of working at home behind me, and with my wardrobe shrunk down to, basically, t-shirts and shorts, I’ve had to delve back into the world of clothes shopping.

I’m in an office a few times a week, it’s a smart casual kinda place so the trousers/jeans I already owned were fine but having donated a lot of my old shirts that I wasn’t wearing to charity I found myself looking at getting a couple of polo shirts to round out my work uniform, as it were.

A quick search online yielded the expected results with some no-brand items from £20 upwards, and of course the brands suddenly make those numbers jump (£85 for one with SuperDry emblazoned over the back!). Ugh, I don’t need anything fancy, just something that fits and that ideally doesn’t cost the earth, surely there are more options out there?!

Then it struck me, charity shops.

I’ll be honest, as I’ve rarely found things in my size and/or to my taste in the past, they’ve fallen out of consideration as somewhere I COULD get clothes and so I don’t visit them often and, because I don’t visit them often, so I don’t find things to buy and… well it’s a vicious circle. Sorry charity shops, I promise it’s not you…

Then I remembered an app I’d tried when I last did some clearing out, Vinted. An online store for second-hand goods. Perfect!

Expect, I have a tiny confession, I might be a little bit addicted. So far I’ve ordered 3 polo shirts for work, a hoodie, and two pairs of shoes. The polo shirts are all ‘labels’ (Fat Face, Adidas, and Slazenger) and were all £5 or less. The shoes include a pair of Nike Presto trainers (I have two other pairs and my feet love them) that retail for £80 and I got them for £30 and… someone needs to stop me!

I mean sure, it’s nice to get a bargain and all that and I don’t mind that these items have been worn once or twice, they are clean and in great condition (and as you may have already noticed, I’m really not that fussy about clothes) but in the back of my mind there is a little voice reminding me that there are other implications that I’m not considering. It’s the same for all clothes that come through the ‘high street’ (whatever that is these days). I’m talking about the working conditions for the people who make these clothes.

I am ashamed.

I’ve been blinded by the low prices and gotten away from being more mindful about my purchases. Not only asking myself ‘do I really need this’ but ‘should I even buy this given where it was made?’. It’s amazing how those two questions quickly stopped me buying clothes in the past, and equally as shaming as how quickly I drop my ethics in face of a bargain.

Which is why I’m writing this, to put it out in public in the vague hope it’ll help shame me back into my ‘less is more/ethically made’ stance in the future.

All of this is easy to say of course and in the face of rising living costs I know that if needs must there are cheap options available to us.

But maybe I can take some inspiration from how we’ve handled things when we’ve been purchasing things for Jack. It baffles me to see kids wearing brand name clothes, they grow so fast and it seems like such a waste. We’ve paid money for one pair of ‘natural’ shoes to help him as he learned to walk (vivobarefoot if yer interested) but for everything else, clothes and toys, we’ve been raiding the secondhand stores. We then re-donate the ones he’s outgrown back to the store as well.

Perhaps Vinted is the modern way of doing this for me, I have sold a couple of things there already and looking at my wardrobe there is more I can shift on, or perhaps I’ll continue to do random clearouts of my wardrobe into black bin bags to take to the local charity store, and MAYBE this time I’ll set foot inside and have a nosey around too. Better to re-use than buy new if I don’t need to.

In my head I have a weird parallel with my vegetarianism or rather, as I read recently, my attempts at being a ‘not so good’ vegan; I still (very very) occasionally eat meat, and occasionally eat fish or seafood, because my vegetarianism is largely about my health but I’m aware of the ecological and environmental impacts of NOT eating red meat as well. It’s a conscious decision I make everytime I eat, I know the impact of my choices and, on the whole, I’m doing good enough for me AND the environment.

With that in mind, I guess my fashion choices are driven along the same lines. I’m doing more than some people but not as much as others. On the whole I think I’m make more good choices than bad and, I guess, I hope that balances things out in the end. It’s a fine line to tread (a fine needle to thread?) but at least now I feel comfortable in second hand clothes.

Anyway, I must go, I’ve just seen an absolute bargain of a new jacket on Vinted…

bookmark_borderEverything changes

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We human beings are a strange and complicated lot in many ways, none more so than when something alters in our worldview. I know that change is viewed by a lot of people as a bad thing yet it seems that, when it is thrust upon us, we adapt to it far more easily than we have anticipated.

I guess fear of the unknown is likely the biggest factor and the higher your natural anxiety levels are the more that can become the focus and start to dominate our thoughts as the upcoming change looms before us. On the other hand change can be seen as an opportunity, something to embrace and be excited about, even if it can be daunting. Like I said, us humans are a complex bunch.

Having recently started a new job for the first time in – checks notes – over 7 years, and I’ll be working in a new location too. It’s what is now being referred to as a hybrid role, with a minimum of 2 days a week in the office so whilst it’s not every single day, it is the first office I’ve stepped into in over 4 years. Quite a change from working at home, and it took me a couple of days to realise quite why I was SO exhausted after only a few days back in an office environment.

When COVID struck, my previous employer sent us all to work from home for a while and there I stayed, with all the perks it entails for almost four years; dress how you want, listen to music if you want, better coffee, ability to do quick chores or help out with your new born son etc. I was more than happy and I don’t really think my work suffered because of it; interactions with my colleagues were limited to online meetings, chats, and the (very) occasional phone call. It made some things more challenging but not impossible.

Fast forward to today and here I am, back in a large open plan office, with all the associated background noise and people (actual people!) that I need to chat with and interact with all day long. From the first friendly ‘morning’, the random chats about latest news topics, and work related queries as people wander up to my desk (or I to theirs), it’s all a lot more people-ing than I’ve done for a long time. And my goodness it’s tiring!

It’s not a complaint, far from it, but it wasn’t something I’d accounted for when I started this new job, the emotional energy required to just talk to numerous different people for any length of time took more out of me than I’d realised. I know it’ll change as I get to know people better and get used to all this talking and interacting again, but heck it’s way harder than I remember it being in the past. That said, with hybrid roles becoming more and more prevalent I’m not anticipating being in an office 5 days a week ever again.

What’s weird is to think about how I used to behave in an office environment, my work persona isn’t all that different from my day to day attitudes so, for those who know me well, you can imagine that I’m just as chatty and cheeky with my work colleagues as I am with my friends. However the first few days in this new role, even taking into account the amount of information I’m ingesting as I try to get up to speed, felt very different, and very draining.

I’m into my third week now and it’s already getting easier so I guess I’m just out of practice?

It’s a big change at home as well, all of a sudden I’m not there for entire days. I’ve got about 10 mins from when I get Jack up at 7am before I need to leave to get the train (if I’m cycling in I’m already gone by the time he gets up), and then I don’t get home until 6pm which is an hour before he goes to bed. His bedtime routine is the same at least, bath with Mummy, then Daddy puts him down to sleep but we no longer get to spend an hour or so hanging out each morning, I don’t see him at either lunch or dinner on the days I’m in the office.

It’s a change for Becca too, nap time was something I helped with during the day but I can’t if I’m not there. Dinner time is the same and whilst Jack is much more independent these day, he’s an inquisitive and active little boy so you still need to have eyes in the back of our head!

And for me I’ve found some old habits returning; I’m getting lost in the overwhelming amount of information I’m trying to absorb, and with all the emotional energy I’m running through when I’m in the office I’ve not quite got the balance right. But I will. I’m keen to do well in this new job – it’s not a contract so the whole career thing is back to being part of my thinking – but the big learning from the COVID years and then the arrival of my precious boy is to keep a good work/life balance. I’ve struggled with this in the past, but it’s clearer to me now, clearer than ever, that having a happy home is all that really matters.

That means making sure Jack is happy and healthy, making sure Becca is happy and healthy, and making sure I’m happy and healthy (don’t worry the dogs are fine too!). As ever it’s about finding the balance, taking a few moments for myself now and then to make sure I’m not losing myself in ‘work mode’ or ‘Dad mode’, making sure Becca and I have time as a couple (we are super excited for brunch together next week), and of course making sure that the most important person in the house is catered for as best we can manage.

We worry sometimes that we could be better, do better, do more, for Jack but I guess that makes us good parents, we worry about that stuff and do our best to keep his mind stimulated and his body moving. I think it’s going pretty well, the last few weeks he’s started to string words and sounds together, so soon there will be one more voice for me to deal with and I cannot wait.

bookmark_borderRabbie

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For many years my Dad performed at Burns Suppers; singing, reciting poems, or delivering various parts of the usual speeches, including the ‘infamous’ Toast to the Lassies. Latterly he became involved with Dumbarton Burns Club holding various positions on the committee, and whenever Burns Night rolls around my thoughts immediately roll back to memories of my Dad rehearsing a song, or writing a poem or speech for the occasion.

Some years he’d attend 6 or 7 different Burns Suppers, with many local clubs keen to harness his talents and as a ‘well kent face’ he was never short of offers. Just as well he liked haggis…

Since his passing, I’ve always paused for a few moments on this day each year and let the memories wash over me. In Scotland, Burns Night is a tradition that we were taught about in primary school, learning some of the songs and poems (with Cutty Sark being the most famous given that the ship of the same name was built in my hometown of Dumbarton). Memories of Braehead Primary music room, Burns competitions, and later as an adult attending my first Burns Supper and realising just how rich a seam of culture and tradition I had grown up in.

It’s no coincidence then that I included a verse from a Burns poem in my Dad’s eulogy, and I find myself reaching for this poem each year, hearing his rich voice and practiced cadence delivering the lines.

To a Mouse

by Robert Burns

On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss ’t!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.
That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

bookmark_borderGood advice

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Stop trying to define yourself with negative labels

“Labeling yourself is not only self-defeating, it is irrational. Your self cannot be equated with any one thing you do. Your life is a complex and ever-changing flow of thoughts, emotions, and actions. To put it another way, you are more like a river than a statue.”

Don’t get hooked on praise

“The price you pay for your addiction to praise will be an extreme vulnerability to the opinions of others. Like any addict, you will find you must continue to feed your habit with approval in order to avoid withdrawal pangs. The moment someone who is important to you expresses disapproval, you will crash painfully, just like the junkie who can no longer get his “stuff.” Others will be able to use this vulnerability to manipulate you. You will have to give in to their demands more often than you want to because you fear they might reject or look down on you. You set yourself up for emotional blackmail.”

Hat tip to the Book Freak newsletter for throwing this at my inbox.

bookmark_borderNOT more to life than this

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At present, I really only have three topics of conversation.

1. The dogs.
2. The baby.
3. Cycling.

And no, they aren’t in a specific order.

Of course, there is more to life than those three things (apparently?) – those on my Instagram can attest that I’m still treating myself well with delicious foodstuffs if nothing else – and yes I read the news, and yes I watch football and F1, and yes I read books (and yes some of those books are ones about bringing up a child).

I even watched a movie the other day! Tenet if you are interested, an interestingly baffling almost good movie.

Outside of that, with the baby due in 4 weeks, I’m trying to do the rounds of seeing my friends and making sure our home is as ready as it can be for when our child arrives. We’ve sensibly ‘retained’ our dog sitter and the dogs will stay with her for a few days so we can have that time, just me and Becca and the wee smush, to adjust to being home before team chaos return to investigate this small smelly noisy thing that will be turning their lives upside down.

We aren’t worried about the dogs and how they will react. Actually, that’s not entirely true, we do worry that Sasha will use her usual sign of affection and sit ON the baby which, I’m sure you will agree, is less than ideal. Dave we think will either be in protector mode and never leave the baby’s side or will be completely disinterested.

We’ve just finished our wonderful NCT course too and, between that and the amazing hypnobirthing classes, we feel as well prepared as we can be, with the full realisation that we will still be learning a lot as we go.

And there I go again, talking about the baby.

On the other hand, I haven’t mentioned my bikes, one of which has two new tyres and a new chain needing to be sorted, and the other is going to be out and about on Sunday for another FLAB Social Ride. I missed not being out on my bike this last week or so – I managed to hurt my back and was laid up for most of last week – so it’ll be good to be out in the fresh air.

I’m also harbouring ideas, now that the weather is turning, to get back out running with a long-standing ‘do a ParkRun’ goal possibly being realised before the year is out. All part of my secret ‘Fit for Fifty’ plan that is slowly (very slowly at times!) having a positive effect on my physical fitness and my mental health. Hopefully, that means I can take Dave out with me on a run now and then too, which will be good for him as well!

So there you have it, try as I might – I did mention I watched a movie, and I’ve been reading some books too, right? – the topics remain the same.

This makes sense, this is my life, after all, I am the one who made the decisions that brought me here. And I have no complaints, just the realisation that my life is beautifully focused and simple now, there is very little in the way of negativity that can creep in, and I spend the vast. majority of my time on things I love.

I guess my life can be seen to be simple and viewed through the lens of this blog and my other social media channels it certainly appears that way, but that is no bad thing. There are many things you don’t see, things I don’t mention, passions that I retain for myself, and my life feels all the richer for it.

I’ve blogged before about ‘minimalism’ and the like, but perhaps that’s not, or should not, best viewed through the lens of commerce and possessions, perhaps the simpler more minimal life is one where your passions and desires align and bring you riches of happiness every day. Perhaps this is what I’ve been striving for all along and the slow reduction of physical clutter (which needs to happen again soon) has maybe let me pause and breathe and relax into who I am, and what my life has become.

The fact I can boil it down to mostly three things, three things that make me happy every single day, is probably the most telling of all. This simple life.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t conclude this without mentioning the glaring omission, the one constant support these past few years, the one who encourages me, listens to me and is going to be the most amazing mother to our child. Without her, my life would be empty. I am very lucky to be part of her life and so so very grateful we found each other.