Category: <span>Personal Musings</span>

I think, on the whole, I’ve been pretty good at sticking to my minimal principles (replace or improve!) through lockdown with only one or two impulse buys amongst the variety of things I’ve bought, and only one item I regret although that’s more about the company than said purchase.

I’ve bought somethings that are definitely investments, somethings that were needed, and of course some frivolous purchases were made (and some regretted).

Stand/Sit Desk (base)

Whilst I’ve been even more conscious of NOT buying via Amazon, sometimes it’s the cheapest option so whilst I did check a few direct sources, given I was spending a couple of hundred quid on this, it ended up being the cheapest, the fastest delivery (it arrived the first week of March) and by far the most valued item I’ve purchased.

I’ve been lucky enough to be working from home for most of lockdown and decided now was as good a time as any to invest in a stand/sit desk. I already had a desk in our spare room/office, so I just needed to find an adjustable base, which I did. It’s wonderful.

I also purchased a second monitor, largely for personal use as I am working on a couple of websites in my spare time, and as I was kitting out a little office space of my own it made sense.

Tripod for iPhone

Sounds like an odd one I know but bear with me.

I no longer own a camera, my iPhone (11 Pro) is my only camera and it’s one of the reasons I’m in the upgrade programme as the camera just gets better and better.

Becca and I like being outdoors, but it can be tricky getting good photos of the two of us (dog nonsense aside!) with just the reach of my arm. So I looked for something better. Fully height adjustable from 11″ which is actually a good height for my desk, to almost 40″ this, coupled with a Glif mount (that I already had), and the joys of remote camera operation from my Apple Watch to my iPhone means we can now get photos of the two of us like this:

Dafties at the Butter Bridge
Dafties on the Butter Bridge (Glen Kinglas)


I’ll start with the impulse buy:

Aside from those, I was mostly replacing old/done shoes. First up a 10yr old pair of Salomons for these new Salomons for when we are out somewhere muddy (hello Mugdock!), and to replace a pair of trainers that my big toe ripped through (crap material + solid big toe nail did not work) a new pair of New Balance to be used for the usual round the streets dog walks. And no, the fact that both pairs are in matching colours wasn’t planned…

Other bits and bobs

I may have been influenced to buy some sweets, and we may have bought a snazzy new fruit basket too.

Things I haven’t bought

NEW AIRPODS – I bought a pair of AirPods almost as soon as the first version was released. They were, and remain, a joy to use. Alas they are now a couple of years old and the battery is starting to deteriorate and I’m unable to use them for any calls longer than an hour. I’m working from home so most meetings are by teleconference now so this was an issue. But I have a wired set of headphones which do the job, and the battery for just listening to music still gives me a couple of hours so, until they die completely I don’t see me replacing them any time soon.

Update: I drafted this post a few weeks ago. Since then, the battery life dropped to 30 mins of music listening so I bought a new set. I tried the AirPods Pro but couldn’t get a good fit in my ears, so returned them and went back to the standard AirPods (which has the benefit of returning the ‘double tap to skip’ functionality the Pros lack!).

NEW BIKE – One of the changes I made during lockdown was to get out on my bike more often. It’s worked, I’m out at least once a week (although also started running again so that may change?) and I’ve been loving it. So much so I started eyeing up a new bike. My bike is fine, it’s just a big heavy lump of a hybrid, so something sleeker and faster would be great. Add in Becca getting a shiny new (second hand) triathlon bike which weighs less than my cycling shoes(!)… and bike envy kicked in. But my bike is fine so I’ve made a promise that I won’t get a road bike until I can maintain my mileage through to next year.

Update: I’m wavering on this one. I’ve been out a few more times on longer runs and I’m starting to feel the heft of my current bike. Right now it’s brain over heart but, I think the heart is winning….

Worst Purchase

I succumbed to a persistent Instagram advert for a pair of trainers (since replaced by the New Balance mentioned above). They were from Opp France.

Alas they turned up as a size 9.5, not a size 10, and the customer service has been shocking. At present I can return them by shipping them to the USA as the France depot doesn’t accept returns. Shipping will be about half the cost of the shoes themselves so… anyone want a pair of trainers? Size 9.5, as new!

Stop buying more stuff

I’m aware that I’m in a very privileged position as I’ve worked through most of lockdown; I’ve swithered over posting this at all when some people are struggling just to pay their bills.

I’m also constantly fighting my desire to have fewer things, not more, and more recently we’ve had a clear out of the kitchen, replaced ageing cutlery and crockery with only what we need, got rid of a few gadgets that we had two of, etc etc.

We’ve bartered away most stuff too, well everything that we could – that hand-held food processor we no longer needed left us with some candles in exchange, for example – and overall I think we are being smart enough with our choices.

Yet here I am, and just looking around my ‘office’ there are still many things lying around that we don’t need, many things without a place to put them and that latter fact is always the one that plays on me the most.

When I moved to my last flat, it was a lot smaller than my previous one, both in terms of volume and number of rooms, and so I worked hard to minimise what I owned, and for what I kept I made sure everything had a place so it could be put away.

It’s always going to be something I look towards, but thankfully I’m much more relaxed about it these days. Not that a good clear out doesn’t feel good from time to time, but most of the times our purchases are required, not frivolous, and serve a goal rather than just sating the presumed joy that consumerism feeds on.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to see if that bike I want is in stock….

Home Personal Musings

I know you’ll all excuse these more introspective posts, and hopefully you’ll forgive me as I repeat knowledge that is mostly already known but sometimes, when such things fall newly into your world they take on a new light, and are all the more vivid and vital for it.

I don’t remember my Dad’s parents. His father passed away before I was born, and I was maybe four years old when Nana passed so she lives in fuzzy memories that are mostly about her box of costume jewellery and a particularly colourful necklace. I have few real memories of the woman herself. I don’t remember if I was sad or upset when she passed away.

The next time I was faced with grief was ten years later when my Mum’s father passed. He’d spent most of the time that I knew him declining after a number of strokes so my interactions with him were always from a bit of a distance. As an early teenager I wasn’t really sure how to process what I was feeling when he died, and all I really remember about his funeral was seeing my Aunt Anne there and suddenly sobbing on her shoulder.

Another ten or so years down the line my Grandma was next after a long slow slide into her latter years. It was time for her to go, the grieving was hard but inevitable and that softened the blow. I loved my Grandma dearly, I spent many weekends staying with her and Grandpa, and as the first grandchild I was spoiled rotten. But towards the end she deteriotated to the point where a final peaceful slipping away was a mercy.

My mother-in-law was the next one to leave us. It was sudden and painful. She was a wonderful, cheeky, caring woman who made me feel so welcomed into her family. I really did get on well with my in-laws. They had moved to a small town on the coast of Spain when they had retired a couple of years beforehand, and I’ll always have fond memories of visiting them there. When Grace passed, we all flew out to be there and I busied myself looking after my wife, my nieces and nephews, and generally trying to hold things together so her direct family could grieve.

But I can still remember realising that I needed a little time to process things too and so I took a longer walk back from the shop one evening, wandered down to the beach, left the shopping bag on the shore and waded a little way into the rolling surf. The sun was setting and I stood there and marvelled at the view, the cold water ebbing and flowing round my feet as the day ended. I sobbed, my salt water tears falling to the sea.

I read an article a while back about the stages of grief, it suggested there isn’t really any defined stages that you move to and from, rather it’s a constant flux of emotions that catch you off-guard. You’ll go from denial to acceptance to bargaining and back again in minutes.

Which sounds about right; I’ve gone from laughing at a daft video on Facebook to an ugly crying mess a few seconds later; the other day I just sat on the bed and tears started rolling down my face. Recently I’ve caught myself living a ‘normal’ life and had odd misgivings because I was out in the world, enjoying a good coffee, and laughing and joking, shouldn’t I be home in a dark room somewhere?

It’s weird, is what I’m saying.

I’m coping though, quite simply by letting the emotions happen, accepting that my moods will be what they are and, whenever I feel like crying I’m doing just that.

OK, I’ll confess, this is all apropos of nothing whatsoever except to say that I’ve been crying more than usual.

And that’s ok. Mind you, even if I wasn’t processing my grief it would still be ok because, as I’ve said before, I’m a bit of a cryer at the best of times.

Then so was Dad so I know where I get it from, this tendency to tear up at the slightest, daftest little thing.

I’m a big one for a good greet at the best of times. As friends will attest I’m prone to crying at gigs, and not always because I’m sad. When I saw LCD Soundsystem at the Barrowlands a few years back, I can remember feeling such an elated high that I stood in the middle of the crowd, arms raised to the sky like a preacher, joyful tears streaming down my face, I was elated and happy, it was glorious.

It wasn’t always this way though. For a long time I denied this part of me as I was tried to fit in, to be the model type of man that society suggested I should be; I struggled for a long time with how to make my peace with the simple fact that I am not that type of person. I don’t choke back my tears, I have no stiff upper lip, and yes I’ve told all my friends I love them because I do (luckily they’ve all said it back to me too, phew!).

Back then I did what every young person does and pushed away any thoughts of the traits I’d inherited from my parents, denying them space in my life. I think I was so hell bent on NOT being my parents I forgot I was supposed to be figuring out who I was. It’s so easy to get caught up in defining a negative that, when someone points this out, it’s a little startling.

But now I see the wisdom and benefits of accepting those aspects of my parents personalities that I tried to shy away from and over the past few years I’ve embraced them and enjoyed realising just how much of who I am I owe to them. I am a good man. I am my father’s son.

So yes, I will cry during THOSE episodes of The West Wing, I will cry when we watch THAT scene in E.T., and I will cry when Elbow sing THAT song about my sister buzzing through the room leaving perfume in the air, and when I’m done crying I’ll wipe my tears away and find solace and happiness on the other side.

I will cry whenever I need to, wherever I am, because it’s just another emotion that needs to come out.

As ever part of me is writing all of this for myself as a way to process how I’ve been feeling these past few weeks, but equally there is a part of me is writing for anyone who reads it that is struggling with this too. It’s the same part of me that wants to reach out and shake the toxic masculinity out of some people (well, ALL people) as it serves no good purpose. No man is better because they push their emotions away. Believe me, I’ve tried it, it’s not good for you.

I’m lucky though, I acknowledge that. I have the love of my family, the willing strong arms of my amazing partner who holds me whenever I need it with no question of why, and the support and love of my friends who know the best way to put me at ease is to try and match my sarcasm (I should point out that my use of the word ‘try’ is, well, let’s just say charitable… at best).

My Dad was not one to dwell on things. He was a planner, for sure, but his laidback approach can roughly be translated into more modern terms of ‘living in the moment’ and so I find myself taking each day as it comes and doing my own planning for the future.

Which, given all the uncertainty in the world at the moment, seems as equally pointless as it is desirable; Remember Brexit, well we’ve still got that shitshow to get through, you know, whilst we continue to try and get a grip on the global pandemic, dismantle the current power systems in place, protest (again) about violence and prejudice against the BAME community (this is a white people issue that we need to fix!), and that’s just the currently newsworthy items. The MeToo movement still rolls rightly onwards and any notion of equality across genders remains frustratingly elusive.

Regardless, we are doing our best to cope, paddling hard against the current and, no matter which way we choose to go none of us have any idea what the future will truly hold. It sounds trite but it’s true.

Yet the joyous thing about being human is that as well as our struggles and trials, we also have hopes and dreams and so we act on those as best we can and take whatever life throws at us next. How else should we live?

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

Albert Camus, Intuitions (1932)

As I recently posted, I find myself in a good place on the whole, despite all of the weirdness of the world and the sadness of recent personal events. Putting all that behind me where it belongs helps, and in a strange way it feels good to be moving forward again, to be headed in a definite direction, regardless of how we get there. I’ve no doubt there will be more tears in the future, although I hope there will be more happy ones than sad.

All of this is not to say that the past is forgotten, naturally it still bubbles up on occasion to meet me, and more and more it happens at the oddest of times.

It’s 10pm. I’ve got Dave (the dog) out for a final pee, he’s snuffling about the grass at my feet and I’m standing staring at the night sky. The clouds are scrolling casually, as the last embers of daylight glow out, tiny spots of light are appearing in fluffy gaps and the crescent of a moon is hazily rendered from afar.

I find myself staring up this way more and more often. It’s not a recent thing at all, but it feels more poignant to stare at the universe and contemplate my place in it. A small speck, a fleeting moment of time. I am nothing at all against the mind boggling scale of what’s out there. With that thought it’s easy to put all of this uncertainty, all of this pain, all of this happiness and joy into perspective. It feels almost to much of a cliche at times but it is what it is, we are here for the briefest of moments.

I don’t regret not spending more time with Dad before he passed. I am confident I was a good son, that he loved me as I loved him. But he is gone now, that won’t change and so we look forward at what life will bring us next, whilst standing and staring up into the outer reaches of space.

I feel a solitary tear roll down my face and tilt my head to let it fall to the grass below me. With a smile I turn and haul Dave back inside for the night for tomorrow is a new day and I need to live it.

P.S. For those who recognise the quote, no I’m not a big reader of philosophy, I am reading The Midnight Library by Matt Haig and to say it’s a timely read would be an understatement (it’s very good too!)

Personal Musings

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A long post which could be subtitled – the ever evolving state of Gordon McLean and how he’s finally found his identity – and definitely one that was as cathartic and mind opening to write as it is scary to share. But this is my journey, my blog, and my happiness. Read on if you dare!

If you’ve been paying attention over the last ten years or so of this blog, you’ll have spotted a recurring theme. No, it’s not (only) my obsession with Apple products but rather it’s something reflected in the title of this site, something that people have gently taken me to task over in the past, whenever I mentioned that I was looking to try and improve myself in one way or another; Why can’t you just be happy with who you are? Why are you always striving for more?

When I finally landed on Happily Imperfect as a name for this site, it was a knowing hat-tip to those people who lovingly challenged me to step back from the continual push for perfection and try and find a way to accept who I am. A previous HR manager of mine was among the first to realise the deeper seated tendencies of mine; to constantly look for ways to do things better when they were already good enough, to immediately push away praise and not give myself any credit for the work I’d done, to take all the blame of anything bad that happens on myself whether it’s my fault or not.

I now know these behaviours are ways that my perfectionism is brought to the fore, and I’m even more aware of just how damaging some of those traits can be to my well being (and that of others around me). Part of these realisations came a few years ago during a counselling session when, talking about ways to make new ways of thinking ‘stick’, my counsellor suggested that sometimes saying things out loud, with confidence, would help. ‘Fake it ’til you make it’ I replied with a smile, thinking back to David, the HR manager who first spotted these traits in me.

I once had a conversation with him about that exact thing, it was part of a follow up from some leadership training we’d had, and we were discussing how sometimes, as a manager, you had to fake it until you make it. He confessed that, whilst he always gave the same stock reply to the passing “How are you doing?” question from colleagues, sometimes he didn’t mean it. Anyone who knew him already knows that his response was always “I’m great thanks, how are you?”, and it was always delivered with a warm smile.

I’ll happily admit I’ve stolen this approach, particularly at work when I’m not having a great day. A quick pause is all it takes to realise that I have a chance to adapt my mindset with one simple phrase, and it works, honestly, give it a try.

Except, I guess it’s not as easy as that anymore – what is? – given how many of us are no longer working in an office every day. It’s not quite the same to type the words in response to an instant message (I’ve tried) but I guess on the flipside, if there’s no-one else around why not say it out loud anyway?

Ahh the joys of working at home; comfy clothes (I’ve not worn trousers for months and only the weather will force me to finally abandon my shorts in … a month or so?), your own music, your own coffee, your own space, and no more of those overly loud annoying co-workers, or that guy who walks about on his mobile phone like he owns the place!

I’ve found adapting to working from home pretty straightforward. I’m very thankful that it’s an option at all as I know not everyone is as lucky, I can do the bulk of my job from home and the challenges have been minimal and mostly down to communication issues, that said, it did take some a few weeks to adjust properly and get into a sustainable routine.

The first few weeks of working from home were full-on, 9 to 5, with few breaks to let my mind and body relax. I was finding myself exhausted at the end of each working day and I was baffled; why was this so much harder than my normal working day?

It’s obvious really, without interruptions from colleagues, whether work related or not, my days didn’t have any breaks. I’d sit down at 9am, log in, work until lunch, then work until 5pm. That ‘always on’ aspect was very easy to fall into and without the natural cadence of office life, where an invitation to go for a coffee is always a welcome distraction from whatever task is at hand, so I found myself slavishly attending each and every incoming request immediately.

This is not a new problem, with the ability to access emails and instant messages on your phone it’s far too easy to get into this mindset, and I think everyone in my team probably did the same. As it’s so easy to send an email or ping an instant message, and as everyone else is working from home, the expectation starts to form around swift replies. Also, as there are no meetings to attend in person, it’s even easier to pick up the phone and find yourself annoyed that no-one answers, what on earth are they doing if they aren’t working and answering my call!

Add in the fact that we were in the midst of global pandemic – News Flash: WE STILL ARE! – and it’s no wonder that this new mode of work, plus the stress of lockdown and all the uncertainty we all faced lead to complete exhaustion.

A few weeks in though, and as I headed for yet another Monday (was it even a Monday, the days were all blur) I realised I was dreading having to sit at the same desk, and have another day where I felt trapped in a routine that I didn’t not choose. So, realising that this new set of working habits that had snuck their way into my day was not something I could sustain, I took a step back and started making some changes.

First I looked at my day and started to schedule it to give me some sense of control and also to force me AWAY from my desk more often for both a physical and mental break. I set up recurring appointments in my calendar prompting me to grab a coffee mid-morning, stop for an hour for lunch, take a break mid-afternoon, and a hard stop at 5pm. My wonderful partner also suggested I add a commute, so whilst I was going to and from the same place, I would go for a 10-15 min walk each morning, by myself (no dogs, the novelty!) to adjust my head space.

Fast forward and with that routine well established I deleted most of the calendar entries as I’m much more aware of how I spend my day now, well that and the massive life event that happened last month also forced me to re-evaluate that too.

So now, if possible, I pause for 15 mins at 10:30am for Popmaster (I’ve got a rolling weekly average of 19 don’t ya know and yes I have asked for a meeting to be rescheduled more than once to I can listen live), I log off at lunchtime and if I can I’ll get outside, even just getting the dogs out for a few minutes. More importantly I’ve silenced notifications for emails and only check them at specific times of the day, which has had huge benefits to me and, well I’m pretty sure no-one I work with has even noticed. All in all, I’m much more considered with how I spend my working day.

I’ve even gone so far as to find an app that will force me to take regular screen breaks and I’ve got it set to lock my screen for the last 10 mins of every hour; Apple Watch users will recognise this behaviour as ‘Time to Stand’. For those interested in similar, the app is called Time Out and you can configure it in many different ways, this is just the one that works for me.

My working days are now much more balanced, I have time to meditate each day, I listen to Popmaster, and I feel less pressure to respond the instant an email or instant message arrives. Ohh and thankfully we haven’t really gone in for video calls all that much, we tried at the start, but I think no-one was really enjoying them, so they’ve stopped.

The physical differences of working at home are interesting to observe too.

I bought three things very early into lockdown to improve my physical working space. I already had a desk and office chair at home, but I quickly added a posture cushion to the chair, a second monitor for my laptop, and by far the best purchase was a new stand/sit electric desk base. As an investment I was wary but for a couple of hundred pounds I figured my body would thank me for it and I’ll admit it’s been an absolute revelation.

I now spend most of my mornings standing at my desk and depending on how I feel after lunch I might not sit down until the last couple of working hours of my day.

As a result, I feel much more in-tune with my body as I spend more time standing at my desk than I do passively slumped in my chair these days. I feel more productive and focused when I’m standing, able to context switch, and I’m much less easily distracted (no YOU procrastinate!)

Early on I also started doing some basic stretches to help my body cope with this change and, on the whole, they’ve helped me stay reasonably mobile (supple is not a word that features in my vocabulary) and a recent visit to the wonderful Mz. Bandeen for a massage confirmed that, bar a slightly tight shoulder, I was in pretty good nick.

So far so good, and a few weeks into lockdown I felt reasonably good, I’d made adjustments to both my mental and physical spaces that were working and whilst it was still very strange not to be in the office every day, I felt a level of balance returning to my life.

For the first few weeks of lockdown I also looked on at the ways other people were handling it; the planners and goal makers, the suffering acceptance, the drinkers, the eaters, the home bakers et al. Like many I flitted between grand plans of new regimes and habits, and accepting that if you plonk a big bag of chocolate buttons down in front of me, I’m gonna eat the entire thing. I am not going to say any of these are bad things, they aren’t, they are all just ways to cope with the massive uncertainty COVID-19 brought with it and I have my own coping mechanisms that, with confirmation that I won’t be back in the office this year at all, I find I’m keen to hold on to.

But it’s not just about adapting to working from home, more and more I’m realising that my own mindset has shifted, and the person I self-identify with now is finally feeling settled, strong, content, and happy. Am I finally the me I want to be?

Perhaps I am, and without realising it I’ve been following through on those aims I set out to establish at the start of the year. I’ll happily admit this has been more by happenstance than any specific planning, although I guess there is something about having these things kicking about in your brain for a while before trying to fix them into place, planting the seeds and all that.

Largely though it’s been a change in my attitude towards these things that has made the difference, a casting off of any notion of what others may think of me, and accepting that these are things that make me happy and are now part and parcel of who I am, regardless of how well, or often, I do them.

Ultimately it means I am building a new id (for the Freudians among you), a new identity for myself, structured around a new set of desires which are now just part of who I am. At my core I am the same me, but now I am much happier to identify as someone who meditates regularly, someone who keeps a journal, I am a vegetarian, I cycle, I go to the gym. This is who I am now.

None of this is revelatory, yet there has definitely been a subtle change to my approach to these things. In the past I would shy away from even mentioning that I meditate, and exercise was largely something I forced myself to do because I had to do something to balance out what I was eating. Yet now I look forward to my daily meditation, deliberately carving time out for it, I enjoyed my cycle last weekend so much I actually considered going back out later on that day. Who is this guy?!

It’s me.

It’s taken me a while to figure out how these changes have landed without me fulling noticing. At some point these activities switched from being things in my calendar that I’d sometimes do because, hey it’s in my calendar, to things that I actively want to do, things that I’m trying to figure out how I’ll fit in in the coming days and which I’ll feel bad about NOT doing. I don’t like cycling in the rain but if this weekend is to be a complete washout then I know I’ll still be going out, even just for 30 mins, because I want to do it.

For someone who has lived, unknowingly for a long time, with a set of behaviours that are almost entirely driven by my desire to make other people like me and not have a single reason to think anything negative about me, this is eye opening. For example, I now find myself deciding to go out on my bike when best suits me (within reason, I’m not an asshole) rather than putting it off if I can’t quite make it work around the schedules of other people. I’ve turned up slightly later than planned at a friend’s house a couple of times, and I’ve stopped presuming that causing the smallest annoyance is a big deal when it’s just that, a small annoyance.

It would be trite to say that I’ve gotten to this point purely because of adopting that fake it ’til you make it approach, but perhaps I have. Perhaps I’ve brought that simple phrase to the fore and used it to power a positive mental attitude which, in turn, has fostered an acceptance of these things and the part they now play in my life. Perhaps I’ve been unwilling to vocalise this, to publically offer this new me because, well, I’ve never really been all that proud of who I am. It’s not quite imposter syndrome, but is definitely an odd sensation to step back and consider the person I am today, the things I’m prioritising in my life, and realise that, yes, this is me, and I have every right to shout it from the rooftops (and I don’t care if no-one else hears or responds either).

Fake it ’til you make it doesn’t always work of course, but that’s ok too. Even the experts, the greats, have off-days, and it’s important to recognise those days too, the days when I don’t meditate, or write in my journal, or when going to the gym is a real effort. There is only so many times you can utter “Let’s do this” with forced vigour and have yourself believe it. Yet these moments can be used as a way to check in on whether this new thing, this new me, is still valid and correct. Maybe there is something else I can tweak, a small change of direction that will get me back on course. And that’s all part of it, part of growing and adapting and finding your way to happiness.

So here I am. Shiny in my imperfection, happy in the moment as best I can be, adapting to life as it is forced upon me, and in adapting myself to all of this I, oddly, wonderfully, find myself exactly where I want to be.

These last few months I’ve slowly realised just how happy I am, how easy my life is, and how lucky it is that I have found myself here. It’s a place I’ve been striving to get to all of my life, even if I didn’t realise it, and whilst I’ve come close in the past there are enough indicators, small changes of my daily thoughts and habits, that confirm that I am where I should be.

I’ve also spent the last few months questioning all of this, all of these new ideas, new ways of thinking that seem to have fallen into place in my brain. Switches have been flipped and part of me likes to figure out how that happened. I’ve wondered if I’m simply clutching on to these things to counteract all of the swirling chaos that Coronavirus has wrought on the world, but even if that’s the case, so what? It just happens to have been part of this journey since this year and so I’ll accept things as they stand today.

There have been other tumultuous changes in my life these past few months, not least the death of my Father, and it feels odd to be writing about the benefits of self-care, of meditation and happiness in the wake of his passing. Just over a month ago I was delivering his eulogy, but perhaps that in itself has been the catalyst, the final push on this journey of self-discovering and awakening that I didn’t know I needed. Or perhaps this is all just a natural reaction to the death of a parent, a realisation that time moves ever onwards and, to steal a line, we’ve all only really got one choice in life; Get busy living or get busy dying.

I choose living, I choose a life that is mine, a life that I’m proud of, a life that makes me happy. It is well balanced, considerate of others, but places me in the centre with my own needs catered to, listened to and acted upon. I’m putting aside the thoughts in my head that are saying I don’t deserve this, and that I certainly should not be publishing it to the world, and I do all of this not to seek validation but to confirm to myself that, yes, this is me, this is my identity, this is who I am.

At last.

Personal Musings

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It was my Dad’s funeral this afternoon.

It was a short service at a local crematorium, with only 18 attendees allowed, all of us sitting in socially distanced seats with our masks on. Surreal.

That aside it was, as my Uncle Nigel said, a dignified service. The Rev Ian Miller led the way, and I said a few words myself, words which were easier to write and deliver, than I thought.

My Dad was well liked and we were all very moved to see old neighbours waiting to say goodbye as we left the funeral parlour, members of the Rotary and Burns clubs flanking the road into the Crematorium, and so many people waiting outside as he was piped in ‘up the hill’ by a well kent local figure (thanks again Colin).

It was a sad day, but a wonderful celebration of the amazing life my Dad lived. He touched the lives of so many, and was proof that being a good guy is something to aspire to.

Here’s what I said (and no, I don’t know how I made it through it without crying):

My father was 5’4, on a good day. Being slightly taller than him I occasionally used to tease him about this, yet he always gave the same good natured reply; Good things come in small packages.

Good is a word I’ve seen used to describe my Dad frequently over the last few days as the messages of condolence and support have flooded in. As well as family and friends, we were all heartened to read the hundreds of responses from ex-pupils as well, all of which used a variety of wonderful adjectives; good, thoughtful, kind, considerate, lovely, generous, best, he even got a ‘legend’, a word I know my Dad would’ve baulked at.

I have many more words I could add to that list but, if I had to pick only one it would be “busy”.

Dad always had something on the go; between the numerous home improvements and landscaping of the garden in Barloan Crescent (under Mums close supervision of course), the races to train for, the choirs to sing in, performances to rehearse, poems to write and learn, any number of helpful projects on the computer and, of course, that was all on top of the usual duties involved with being a devoted husband, and a caring and supportive father. He was always busy, but never too busy for us.

When I think of Dad I guess I’ll always come back to that phrase of his, good things come in small packages.

Those thoughts were running through my head as I drove to Dumbarton last week; on the radio they started discussing the Robert Burns poem, Tae a Moose. In it, Burns looks on with envy at the mouse as it only lives in the present, it’s us humans that are cursed with the ability to dwell on the past and fear the future:

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!

I don’t fear a future without Dad but it makes me sad to think ahead to the life events he will miss; the beginning of my own family and the continuing bloom of my sisters, not to mention all the missed coffee, cake and ice cream trips with Mum.

Instead I’ll look to the past, not to dwell but to remember the happy times, for there are many to choose from.

Dad was always laidback about life – so laidback he was horizontal – and he was always ready with a silly comment or a smile, always there to support the family however best he could.

Our family home was one full of love, joy, laughter, and a never ending stash of biscuits and sweets. Those, and many more, are the memories I will look back on, the past that I’ll carry with me fondly, as should we all.

My Dad was no mouse and, whilst he may only have been 5’4 (on a good day), I know I’ll always look up to him, and aspire to be, like he was, a good man.

A sad day, but I know Dad wouldn’t want us to dwell. He helped his family find happiness and we will strive to continue to live our lives in that same kind-hearted way he exemplified.

R.I.P. Dad. x

Life Personal Musings

It was a fairly standard evening. We’d had our dinner and were watching a little TV together, it’s part of our routine to unwind and destress from our working days, we chat over dinner and then spend a few quiet moments sitting together, distracting ourselves with (currently) episodes of Modern Family.

As soon as she is allowed Sasha hops up on the sofa and straight up onto my lap. She likes to sit with her back to me, front paws on my knees, so I can give her a hug and a tummy rub/claim me as hers. We think it might be related to abandonment issues (she’s a wee rescue) and she only really does it with me because I’m a boy. Regardless it’s wonderfully sweet if slightly weird to have this little dog just sitting ON you.

Then as she moves around to make sure she’s the only one getting my attention her front claws start digging in and it’s time to heave her off before she draws blood (again!) don’t worry though, I know it all comes from a place of love…

So, that’s where you’ll find us most evenings, with Sasha happily ensconced between us on the sofa – important to note that she is BETWEEN US to make sure I’m not giving Becca any attention! – and Dave roaming around, chewing a toy here, boofing at the window on occasion at a passing… leaf? we are never sure…

Dave isn’t really one for being patted, but start scritching is lower back and that’ll get his tail wagging. Alas – in Sasha world – that means she isn’t getting all the attention which means she’ll then attempt to plonk herself back on my knee or, worse, jump down and instigate yet another snarling play fight over a toy that neither of them have bothered about all night.

For the record, it’s only worse because they make a bloody racket, it’s all (snarling) play but suffice to say I’ve now just accepted that all TV is watched with subtitles.

Aside: Did you know that when they are playing together, dogs will sneeze every now and then to confirm it’s ‘just play’ and not an attack? Funny wee things these fur babies!

At 8pm the dogs get their dinner and some (most) nights Becca will head up for a bath. With only one ‘grown up’ left in the living room both dogs settle down pretty quickly; Sasha will get nicely sprawled on the sofa, snoring away, Dave lying next to her having spent the last 30 minutes grooming his best pal, vigorously, with his tongue (for the record, that’s Sasha, although he’s not adverse to helping me ‘clean’ my hands at times).

I sit there too, deciding what to watch, or what to read, or whether to fire up the PlayStation.

These small moments in the day are peaceful and quiet (snoring aside), and I feel calm and happy.

Through the early days of lock down, with the outside world more distance and muted, I started to take a little time to just sit and do nothing and revel in the silence. For those that know me, I’m usually busy doing something (I am the son of my father for sure!) so it’s odd to catch myself, more and more often, happily doing nothing.

I didn’t fully realise I needed these moments until they arrived. It’s one thing planning to meditate for 10 mins or so but that in and of itself still requires me to do something – it’s a practice so you need to work at it – whereas these quiet contented evenings have sort of snuck up on me. I guess it’s partly a mix of better understanding my own needs, a further quieting of that nagging voice in my head that, for so so long, was always saying ‘you should do something’, and feeling supported, seen, heard and loved.

Sure I am happy, but more than that, I am content.

It’s a word I’ve found myself using more and more to describe how I feel these days. Even in the midst of a global pandemic there has been a sense of calm, of care, of love in our home; a sense of balance which has been there since we first got together and which I’m much more attuned to these days.

It’s odd to realise such a simple thing, to recognise that your life is in a great place, that your future is exciting and full of possibilities.

Becca and I chat about our future often, we know where we would like it go, and we know that no matter how it pans out we will both be in a place where we are happy as long as we are together.

Oddly it feels like we have MORE opportunities ahead of us, rather than a narrowing of options of our shared circumstance. It’s a bewildering thing to contemplate, given the current state of the world, but with an eye to the future I’m already wondering if there are better things I can be doing with my time.

Part of that, and this is no coincidence, has been the last few months of enforced working from home. I know I’m lucky that that is an option at all but the more I think about working back in an office environment, the more I wonder why I’d put myself through that. I am far more productive, and whilst some of the challenges remain, I am fundamentally happier working this way.

Mind you I’m not sure what else I could do (I still need to earn money after all) but part of me doesn’t really mind not knowing. I feel secure enough that I trust that we will figure things out when we need to and, until then, I’m just enjoying what I’m (officially now) considering the second phase of my life.

I’m 46 years old. That number still baffles me but I can still remember a younger me that had plans built around financial success, that focused on material possessions, and like many people my age I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I know that I have learned from those and in one of those universally truthful cliches it really does feel like all of THAT was simply steps I had to go through to get to where I am now.

Like I said, we have some plans that are already shaping up, and until they come to fruition I’m just going to keep on being grateful for everything I have; the happy home I live in, the wonderful, smart, compassionate, kind and caring (and also beautiful and hot) woman who lets me share her life, for the joy our two little mischievous dogs bring to our life every single day, and for this oddly new state of always feeling happy from the minute I wake up to the moment I fall asleep.

And I know all this to be true as I’ve been keeping a Gratefulness Journal going for the past couple of months and, when you boil it all down, I find myself being happy for the right things and for the right reasons.

Life can seem complicated at times but it’s truly not, it’s very simple if you can learn to focus on the best bits and let all the other noise slide away.

It’s take me a long time to get to this place and the best bit is that there is still so very much left to enjoy, so much more happiness and joy to explore.

Life Personal Musings

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I’m guessing it all started with Sun-Maid Raisins.

If you are of a certain age (shut up at the back!) they were a staple part of your packed lunch, sitting right next to the tuna paste sandwich and, if you were really lucky, a carton of Ribena. Ahh yes that little red cardboard box that contained a small handful of such a sweet delicacy, the raisin.

As I’m sure you know, a raisin is simply a dried grape BUT, ahh yes, it’s not just any grape. Typically the word “raisin” is reserved for the dark-colored dried large grape, with “sultana” being a golden-colored dried grape, and “currant” being a dried small Black Corinth seedless grape. And you thought you weren’t going to learn anything today…

I love raisins, I love how they taste, I love how they feel in your mouth eaten raw, I love how they are just at home in a spicy curry or freshly baked cake.

As I got older I got my own pocket money and the temptation of the previously unknown chocolate coated raisin loomed into my world view. I’m pretty sure I kept the local shop in business the summer I discovered them; rarely was I happier than having a box of raisin Poppets in one hand, a (red) box of toffee Poppets in the other. It was a simple time; One raisin, one toffee, one after another, popped in my gob and chewed and savoured and swallowed. Repeat.

Somewhere along the way the toffee Poppets were replaced by chocolate coated peanuts, and I veered away from the brand names to the stores own-brand, I noticed no difference, plus it’s only £1 for a bag of chocolate raisins, heaven! If I was really well behaved I’d sometimes be able to make them last for a week or so, but most times that sneaky addition to my shopping cart were scoffed quick smart.

In fact it’s why I started buying the chocolate peanuts as well, to bulk things out a bit, to make the pleasure last that little bit longer.

So you can imagine my glee when, on returning from the supermarket the other day, Becca said she’d gotten me some treats.

We have a snack drawer at home, it’s mostly Nakd bars and the like (we do try and eat healthily) but in these current times it’s fair to say that I’m struggling a little more than usual to keep my inner ’emotional eater’ in-check. I knew I had treats waiting, and I’m proud that I lasted a couple of days before heading to the kitchen to raid the snack drawer and see what she’d bought me.

I was watching a movie, and fancied a little something to munch on. I kept the movie playing so I could watch from the kitchen (we have an open-plan layout downstairs), and went through and opened the snack drawer and, to my delight I could see TWO little bags of treats in the drawer, the top one of which read “Milk Chocolate Raisins”, YA BEAUTY!! Raisins and peanuts!

I quickly grabbed a small bowl so I could mix them up and, whilst I negotiated the usual hazards that living with a dog who likes to check what you are doing when you are in the ‘food room’, I grabbed the top bag, snipped it open and tipped a small (ok large!) handful into the bow, I grabbed the second bag and did the same.

I returned to my seat, engrossed in the movie, got comfortable and dipped my hand into the bowl. First item out, a chocolate raisin! Oh yes! I think it smiled a little as the chocolate gave way to the rich sweetness that lay with in.

Now, I’m an adult so I took my time, savouring each chew until it was all gone. I forced myself to wait a few seconds – again I’m an adult, honest – and dipped my hand into the bowl, enjoying the tiny silly suspense of guessing what I’d get next, raisin or peanut, raisin or peanut.


Two in a row.

A few minutes later, I tried again… RAISIN AGAIN! This was wonderful but I gave the bowl a little shoogle to make sure the peanuts and raisins were properly mixed up.

Another try and, another raisin, what the … and then I realised, as I’m sure you already have.

She bought me two bags of raisins, didn’t she.

I’d only gone and opened both bags, tipping a little from one, then a little from the other, into the bowl thinking I was getting a mix of peanuts and raisins.

What. A. Numpty.

Still, I enjoyed the rest of the bowl, safe in the knowledge there were no chocolate peanuts waiting in disguise.

Food Life Personal Musings

My alarm goes off at 7:30am.

I get up and have breakfast.

At 8:00am I log in to my work laptop, check any tasks/calls for the coming day.

I take a break every 50 minutes to stand and stretch.

I write in my journal during a break.

At midday I stop for lunch.

After that I spend 10 minutes meditating.

Then back to work for the afternoon.

I am lucky to have this routine, it’s about to change from next week whilst the project I work on is scaled back to almost zero staff, but it’ll pick back up again in a few weeks, maybe a month.

So I’ll have a new routine from next week.

The routine is helping, having something to do, something to focus on is helping.

Isn’t it funny how quickly we get used to change, how quickly we adapt and accept that this is just how things are for now, how quickly I’ve started scanning the street ahead of me to see if anyone is going to walk past, crossing the road to avoid them. How quickly I’ve learnt to just make do with whatever food we have in the cupboards and fridge.

We are lucky. We are both healthy, able-bodied, and we have each other. Hearing news of friends, isolated, who may have contracted the virus, is heart-breaking. They will be fine, I tell myself, even though I’m not sure.

And to stop myself worrying too much I return to my routine.

My new normal is getting me through.

I hope you are getting through this as best you can.

Personal Musings

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Wrote this a couple of days ago, still processing all this, still adjusting. We are ok. I am ok but my emotions are veering all over the place from ‘it’s horrible but we will get through it’ to utter fury and outrage at the reaction of a government I didn’t vote for, to a quiet calm as I take time to care for myself and my mental health.

I was in the local Co-op yesterday, we didn’t need anything urgent, I was really just seeing if they had any pizzas. The shelves were mostly stocked, plenty of fruit and veg, milk, butter, bread, even a few packets of toilet roll.

They had the pizzas I was after too, so I got those and grabbed a couple of cartons of oat milk because they were there, and some eggs, again because they were there.

As I turned to walk down an aisle and elderly woman with a fully laden basket was walking towards me, I stopped to let her step around one of the end of aisle displays and as she passed she smiled and said,

“Not even really sure what I’m buying!”

She had a twinkle in her eye, and half a laugh in her voice when she said it. I got the sense that she’s been through stuff like this before and isn’t sure what to do but knows she should do something and this is all she can think of.

I’m in the same boat.

I’ve not been through anything like this before, but I know I should be doing something I’m just not sure what.

I’ve had a weird feeling in my stomach a few days ago, roundabout the time the first confirmed patients were recorded in the UK, and it took me a couple of days to figure out that it was anxiety that was bubbling away. Last night, in the midst of eating my feelings from our snack drawer, I paused and thought, no this is not enough. I wasn’t talking about the volume of snacks (although are there ever enough snacks?) more reflecting on my attitude to the current pandemic.

Pandemic is an odd word. The stuff of movies, or zombie-led TV series, it’s not something that actually happens. Yet here we are.

And as world leaders stumble and bumble their way through this, displaying all their worst traits and more – hey if you voted Tory or Trump, some of this is on you you utterly selfish prick – and in the meantime so many people are going to suffer in so many ways, a lot of which we can’t even understand yet.

But enough ENOUGH of this negativity. I’m distancing myself (officially working at home now for… some time) and I’m lucky that is an option. My partner is self-employed and we know the time will come she can no longer go out to work. We will cope, we will get through this.

Meanwhile small businesses we use, small restaurants and cafes we frequent, are closing or closed. And yes, again the government has a hand to play in this – Tories will always look after the rich, if you voted from them, fuck you – and it’s horrifying and scary and oh hello anxiety.

But no, I will not get dragged into this.

I am finding my new normal, working from home, finding a routine, carving more time for self-care, meditate, breathe, write, read.

It’s time to look around and remember the good things in life. There are more people who care and love than those that hate, the news is the worst tip of a small iceberg, the majority of people are not like that. Amplify those messages please, focus on the good, on the small gestures that mean more at times like these.

Go outside, breathe in the air, get soaked in the rain, walk on the grass.

Do not give in to anger. Smile as you pass strangers in the street.

I don’t know what else to write. I have a journal but it’s all that is on my mind right now. There is no fiction, just a reality that seems so improbable that fiction feels false.

Surely this will pass in a couple of weeks. Right? That’s the optimist voice in my head, it’s a small voice, and usually hiding away from change and uncertainty. Everything will be ok, it says.

And it will, logically, scientifically, I know it will. I am relying on that part of my brain to process this, as the emotional part is bunkered down in a duvet fort, eating chocolate buttons and re-watching the West Wing.

But I know it will be ok. We will get through this.

Most of us at least. The fallout is unknown, and that’s the scariest part but we can’t deal with that today, we can plan and hope to stave it off and lessen the impact but today is always about today.

So I sit at home and count my blessings for they are many.

I will not succumb to negativity. I will be kind to myself and to others, I will come out of this changed, as will the wider world. New values will be established, and I hope they hold fast. Maybe this is the radical action that will shift the world away from the right-wing governments that hold power?

But no, enough of that. Enough of this.

I am ok. We are ok.

How are you? Reach out if you need to, together we will prevail.

Life Personal Musings

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