My dearest loved ones,

I’m writing to all of you in the hope that my words will bring some solace and help you adjust to what is about to happen. You all know how excited I was when they announced this project, you’ve all supported me and encouraged me to work hard to make it happen, and you’ve all been there through my darkest days when I thought it was slipping out of my reach.

From the moment I heard about the mission to Mars I knew I had to be on the crew, all those years staring up at the sky, wondering what lay beyond, the holidays to the Moon bases, and my acceptance to Lunar College were all a stepping stone.

I know now that those early days were just the beginning of a longer journey, one I didn’t even realise I wanted. Getting into space was the dream, remember that family trip to the Armstrong memorial? What a happy time that was! The photo of us all pretending to moonwalk still cracks me up and a print of that very photo will be one of my personal items on the Mars trip.

We aren’t allowed too many personal items, it’s a long journey and the less we take the quicker we will get there but along with that photo I’m taking some other things that remind me of you guys, my crazy family.

Dad, that jumper you knitted me got me through Lunar College and whilst it’s a little worse for wear I think the comfort it will bring may be much needed, our pods will be pretty sparse (it’s a military ship after all) so it’ll be good to be able to snuggle up with it. It always reminded me of my childhood, how you used to wrap your arms around me on cold days to keep me warm, how safe and loved I felt.

Mum, the utility knife you gave me when I graduated is already packed. I’m technically not allowed a ‘weapon’ but I’ve managed to smuggle it aboard all my other trips so it’s going on this one too! That knife has been with me through a lot of tough times but even just holding it in my hand has helped me stay focused. It’s weird I know but it’s got a nice heft to it that, when I hold it, reminds of you. Assured, calming, level headed and prepared.

Andy, well of course I’ve brought all those mixed tapes you kept sending me, maybe I’ll finally listen to one all the way through and realise that you do have some musical taste (I’m not holding my breath but I’ve got about 14 months to kill so…). I’ve also brought that baseball. Yeah, I kept it all these years, it’s been with me everyday since the accident, my own little secret that reminds me that if you can rise above that, then I can rise to meet any challenge. You are more inspirational to me than you’ve ever realised. People once told me that having a little brother would be a pain in the ass (they weren’t wrong!) but they never told me that I’d eventually be looking up to my little brother.

Caz, after everything you’ve been through I should confess something. I stole a little thing the last time I visited, knowing that I was on the shortlist for this mission. I wanted something to remind me of you, something that I could hold in my hand and draw comfort from. I hope you don’t mind, and I figured the twins won’t miss their little knitted booties anyway. I never told you, but my adorable niece and nephew are one of the reasons I wanted this mission so so badly. The future of Earth is so unstable it scares me, so if we can find a better place on, or beyond, Mars then I hope that I can play a part in making things safer for them and their children.

It hurts that I won’t see any of you again, that as we fly further and further from Earth the communication delay will start to be measured in hours and then days. Our last interactions earlier today were the last real time conversation we will ever have. The journey I’m about to embark on is weighing heavy and it’s all these little things that suddenly seem to matter more than anything.

I will miss you all terribly, more than I can express using words but this might be the last chance I get.

I love you all so so very much, I know I’ve not always been a good son, and I know I could’ve been a better brother. I know I could’ve done more, tried harder, but I guess I’ve always been wanting this escape. I need to go now, final preparations are under way and in less than an hour we will leave the Moon behind and start our journey into whatever space has to hold for us.

I believe I am doing this for all of us, a chance for a better future, but that doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

Right, enough of this! Next stop Mars!!

Caesar (yes, that one) instigated a war by crossing the river Rubicon, so when I heard that a new venture had opened, and taken its name from this historic act of war, my interest was piqued. Let’s see what Crossing the Rubicon had to offer.

They had invited around 40 bloggers, of various shades of disrepute, and as with most new venues we were all keen to try the wares and see just how provoking the menu and approach was. The short answer, never judge a bar by its name (as you wouldn’t a book by its cover), but do judge it by the quality of its food (and beverages). The very short answer, good food and beer are served here!

The longer answer then…

With strikingly painted walls, and a more spacious and open feeling than it’s Squid & Whale incarnation, first impressions are good and a little more refined than the aforementioned venture. It has a nice laid-back feel, the staff were all friendly and welcoming, and it feels like the kind of place you could drop in on a Saturday afternoon, end up staying for dinner, then roll home after last orders with ease…. or maybe it’s just me that does that? Given the array of beer on offer, it wouldn’t be for the want of trying, mind you.

On to the evening itself, once we were all in and seated we were told we would be given a sample of a variety of dishes; a few starters, a few of their curries, and a dessert. Add in some of the excellent beers available and my palate was excited to get tucked in.

Starters included a fresh, thin onion pakora, black pudding pakora, veggie haggis pakora, and crispy chicken pakora. Each was good, the chicken edging it by remaining succulent and fresh and far removed from the usual stodgy fare we all know, with the onion pakora a close second and more of an spiced onion gratin, subtle changes that made all the difference to these dishes.

With those all swiftly dispatched – amongst lots of ohhhs and ahhhhs of appreciation – we moved on to the main courses. Described as ‘Indian tapas’ you’d probably order 2 or 3 of the main courses, and some breads/rice to accompany them.

We got to try several of the main dishes including a coconut heavy Sweet Potato and Carrot korma (a firm favourite at our table), a Tarka Dhal which had a nice kick, a Crispy Tofu Mutter and Gobi Khali Mirch which both came with a tomato sauce that was a little on the watery side for my liking, a Dhal Makani which was rich and subtley spiced, a wonderfully smokey Tandoori Butter Chicken, and finally, my least favourite dish of the night, the Venison Madras which was a bit too heavy on the Juniper for my tastebuds (but others enjoyed it, such is the joy of a mixed crowd!).

We also got to sample a few of the wonderful beers on offer; I opted for a flight including an XPIPA (Wylam & Yeastie Boys), a Crossing the Rubicon (Drygate) lager, and a Redact (Williams Bros) red ale, and also got to try the Bombay Dazzler (Bundo Bust & Northern Monk) a subtle cloudy ale, and the wonderfully named Disco Forklift Truck (Drygate) a gentle mango ale, and the Strawberry Beer (Timmermans) which was delicious but I think a half pint would be the limit as it’s quite sweet.

I was pretty full by this point but it felt rude to refuse the offer of dessert… and boy was I glad I said yes! Described as a ‘chocolate pot’ on the menu, that is over simplifying a deliciously rich, dark chocolate dessert, with a hint of orange and a tiny tickle of chilli, which we found out was made with tofu (I’d have sworn heavy cream and butter!).

And with that, the evening drew to a close. I wander home along Great Western Road, nicely sated, with a new ‘place to take friends when they are in town’ venue safely tucked away in my pocket.

If you are in the area, it is well worth a try, the joy of tapas style eating – order too much food just to try things – and some excellent beer choices, all for a reasonable price. What’s not to like?

Banged my head again.

I wouldn’t mind so much but it was on the exact same spot on my head that I did it last time, and the time before that. I’m currently taping a wadded up towel round the sharp wooden edge of the entrance so I don’t do it again. Stupid walk-in cupboard.

I should really just empty it out, not that there is much in it but it’s handy, or at least it would be if the entrance was a little bigger.

It’s not that I’m not used to ducking to go through doors, I mean it’s an everyday habit for me. I remember one time visiting a museum, and old building that was no doubt built hundreds of years ago, all stone and wood it was, and I guess there were more people like me around then because the doors were massive! Really tall! I could barely touch the top of them even if I stood on my tippy toes.

Maybe I should buy a house like that, a house built for someone my size, instead of squashing myself into these tiny boxes that everyone else seems to fit in. But if I buy a house that fits me, it only goes to show how much I stand out.

That’s always been my problem, I don’t fit in. I can remember the kids at school teasing me like, somehow, it was my fault I was taller than all of them and the tallest teacher already? I learned back then how to stoop and make myself small, make myself fit. Kids can be so cruel. So brutally heartless. I’d practice making myself small as I lay in bed, sobbing myself to sleep.

Not that things were any different when I went to college. Despite all the supposedly liberal minded people there were still quips about my size, ‘how is the weather up there?’ they ask. Day after day. I didn’t have many friends, and sure, I was popular if they were playing basketball but they soon bored of that – having someone my size who can look down at the basket… well it wasn’t fair on anyone else I guess. So the names and insults would flow, all aimed at making me less than I am, taking me down a peg or two because, somehow, it was perceived that that is what I deserved.

Do they think I choose to be this way? Do they think I want to stand out the way I do? Can’t they tell how much I yearn to fit in?

It’s probably telling that the few friends I have are all women. I learned from them how to make myself insignificant so I didn’t attract attention, learned to be smaller than I am so I don’t rub people the wrong way, watched as they shrunk away from men on the street and in bars. I learned a lot of things from them, things I didn’t want to know, things that they shouldn’t have to do, but I copied them all the same.

These days I’m oblivious to the stares, to the gawkers, the whispered commentary about the ‘freak’ as they walk past me in the street. It still hurts though. People can be so cruel. So heartless. I do my best to ignore them, after all what’s the point of getting angry, that’d only make me more of an outcast, although I’m not sure that’s possible any more.

Sometimes I wonder if there are others out there like me but then, if there were, surely I’d know about them already? Seems weird that I’m the only one like this. But maybe I am. I wish I wasn’t. I was I was smaller.

OK, I’ve finished taping the towel to the door frame, hopefully that’ll stop me banging my damn head on it.

I really should think about emptying it. Or maybe I’ll just moving, leave this tiny place behind… but where would I go?

I mean, I know I’m a giant, but why shouldn’t I be able to live somewhere that fits me properly?

Do you ever get one of those weird compulsions to do something that you would never do? Like wanting to jump in a river fully clothed, or eating an entire raw onion? It’s kinda hard to explain and most of the time I just ignore them but the other day one of them struck me on my walk home from work.

It was a gorgeous day so I left work a little early, thinking to meander my way homeward and enjoy the evening sunshine. Early  spring had delivered the first buds of green and I was quite content, plodding along with no desire to hurry, lost in daydreams and the casual nosiness of the urban wanderer. I took lanes and paths I’d never noticed before, turned into streets that lead me to hidden parks and gardens, and comforted myself that I was  heading in roughly the right direction home, most of the time.

It was near one of these little parks, on an unfamiliar street, that my foot caught on a manhole and I stumbled. It was enough to jolt some adrenalin into my system but not quite enough to send me to the ground, just a few awkard stuttering steps before I  caught myself and got my feet underneath me. I prepared my worst glare and turned round to see what had had the temerity to trip me up and break me from my revelries.

The manhole cover was slightly raised at one edge and clearly hadn’t been properly seated back in place. A long crowbar of dulled iron lay nearby and I looked around, presuming to see a work van or even a worker on tea break somewhere but there wasn’t a soul in sight.

Clearly someone had forgotten to put the manhole cover properly back in place.

I huffed loudly to no-one and was about to turn and walk away, but my conscience got the better of me. I would do a good deed, unseen and unheralded, bonus integrity points for me! I walked over and lifted the crowbar.

It was heavier than it looked, but I raised it up and one end slipped into the required notch in the cover. My brain started searching for whichever Greek polymath introduced the idea of fulcrums, as it would only take a small push with the crowbar to drop the manhole cover back into place.

I paused. My mind shifted from polymath to compulsion.

What is down there under that manhole cover?

No, I mustn’t.

But there’s no-one around, no-one to see, no-one will know.

I looked around again, slowly checking over one shoulder, then the other, then check again to be sure. Not a sound, no dogs barking, no children laughing, no-one in sight. I shifted my grip on the bar and with one smooth motion, eased the manhole cover up and out of the way.

I stood there for a moment, peering down into the darkness beneath my feet. My eyes slowly adjusted until I could make out a tiny spot of light, far far below me. A shimmering sixpence at the bottom of a dark well, an object that had no right in being there, the blackness deeper than I thought possible. Was I just seeing a reflection? The light from above reaching out to touch the edge of nothing? I waved my hand in the air over the opening but the dot of light remained constant. No, not a reflection. How odd.

I looked around, glad that there was no-one else nearby to witness my behaviour. I knelt down beside the opening and, putting a hand on each side, lowered my head and shoulders down until they were inside the entrance and blocking most of the light.

Far below me the dot of light expanded. In it I could see colours and shapes forming and moving, like an out of focus film reel that my brain couldn’t quite make sense of. I leaned in further and the dot grew again, the shapes solidfying, shifting into a semblance of… wait, was that  a dog?

I sat up and sheepishly looked around, the street was deserted still. I glanced back down into the darkness to see that the dot of light had shrunk once more.

Ahhh, it’s an optical illusion! How clever! But how does it work?

Intrigued I leaned in again, moving slowly, watching the circle of light below me grow; the further I leaned, the larger and clearer the image below me became.

I was starting to be able to pick out familiar shapes, there was a bright blue car, and there a pink dog lolloping around a bright orange field. Every now and then a flash of colour and a new shape blossomed into view, colours clashing vividly. Purple bananas hanging from turquoise trees.

I leaned further and further in until I was at my limit, barely clinging on with most of my upper torso disappearing into the ground. It was then I heard a voice above me ask what the hell I thought I was doing?

I pulled myself back out, cracking my head on the wrought iron edge of the manhole on the way. I sat back, rubbing the back of my head, and squinted up at the woman standing over me.

She was older than I and carried the quiet air of school ma’am authority. She was looking at me with a stern  but bemused look, the naughty boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

How could I explain what I’d seen? A strange world at once familiar yet surreal, an reflection wrought in the wrong technicolours?

I clambered to my feet and as dusk fell I told her about tripping on the manhole cover and that I was just checking that nothing or no person had fall in. I lied. It was easier than trying to form the words that held the truth, most because as I was not entirely sure what that trush was, what had I seen?

She listened silently then beckoned me out of her way. I stood and watched in silence as she used the crowbar to slide the cover back over the hole, dropping it in place with a deep heavy thunk.

She turned to face me. With a nod she said that that was done and next time I should cover manholes not peer into them. It was phrased as a statement, a command to be followed. She held my gaze as I murmured and nodded in acquiescence, and after a few seconds she turned on her heel and walked away.

I watched her go, the long iron crowbar swinging lightly in her hand. I looked down at the manhole cover, admiring the intricate patterns and strange words that adorned it. In the distance a dog barked and the birds began their evensong.

The first in a monthly series, largely for my own benefit, of my own highlights from the past month.

Lived

Highlights

• My niece turned one and remains the most adorable, inquisitive little thing.
• Had two ‘Christmas’ nights out with friends (much laughter, good food and boozes)
• Finally got down to Kelvingrove to see the wonderful Alphonse Mucha exhibition.
• Started attending guided Meditation, once a week so far, but enjoying it.

Also
The lease on my current (rented) flat is due up and I’ve decided to move. Cue a massive clear out in preparation (I have entirely too much stuff). And yes, I am reading Marie Kondo’s book.

Stepcount: 279,203.

Read

Highlight – The GraceKeepers by Kirsty Logan
The first book chosen for book club, this is a dystopian novel that doesn’t dwell on the world it exists in but allows you to view it through the eyes of several interconnected characters. It took a while for me to warm to this, but with some wonderful imagery and a carefully crafted world built on mythology and wonder, it’s the characters that bring this to life. As the swell of the ocean carries the ‘damplings’ from island to island, so it brings Callanish and North slowly together before a final storm crashes down and changes their worlds forever.

Also good
The Blue Room by Georges Simenon
Can’t recall where I picked this up (I think I read about how good the translation was?) but this is simple crime story, told in a back and forth style, slowly revealing the truth to us as readers, and to Tony who is accused of murder. As it slowly pulls at the thread of his life, we share his dawning realisation of the difference between what we see in our own minds, and what is seen by those who observe us.

Watched

Highlight – La La Land
Well worth all the nominations and awards in my opinion but I’m aware this is a very Marmite kinda movie. I loved, LOVED, the sense of nostalgia and mid-century stylings. I adored the whimsical approach that only heightens the moments of high emotion all the more. I’m a bit meh on Ryan Gosling but he held his own, but the star for me was Emma Stone. From opening song to the final curtain I was entranced. If you enjoy the old musicals – think Singing in the Rain – then I think you’ll enjoy this.

Also good

• Whiplash (Netflix) –  which I rewatched for the third time, if you liked La La Land go back and watch this. It’s made by the same people, and has a similarly out of time sense of nostalgia. A simple enough story of a drummer and a tyrannical music teacher, not only is the acting and cinematography stunning, the music is fabulous, the story itself builds to a wonderful crashing crescendo and the second best ‘cut to black’ ending after The Usual Suspects.
• 13th (Netflix) – A sobering documentary about racial inequality in the United States, focusing on the fact that the nation’s prisons are disproportionately filled with African-Americans, and how the authorities (at all levels) have stacked the system using media and culture. Sobering stuff, and poignant in the current climate.
• House of Cards (Netflix) – a rewatch from Season 1 in preparation for the new season, interesting viewing given the current Trump administration.

Listened

Highlight – Mammal Hands
If you like Go Go Penguin… said Spotify, so I gave them a whirl and couldn’t agree more. This trio cover piano, drums and saxophone and the music is a little more mainstream friendly, not quite as esoteric as GGP. Well worth a listen for some beautiful music and exemplary playing.