Monet

Hi,

As I wrote, turning 40 is often a big deal. For me it brought into focus some painful realizations, like my life was developing a comfortable inertia that I suddenly find uncomfortable, or that I may have many fewer days ahead of me than are behind me.

Happily Jacqui is far more grounded (even though she is the New Age Goddess in the house) than am I, for Jacqui it was an excuse for a good time. So it was that I booked a suite in a 5 star hotel in Wellington, to see the Monet exhibition at Te Papa.

We drove down the East coast of the North Island and arrived at the suite. Ieuan came too (even though his 'Nana Gail would have looked after him) and he was instantly impressed by the suite. He wanted room service, and I declined. I think he wants to be a cash-rich plutocrat when he is older. I hope he succeeds!

Te Papa is New Zealands national museum. If I were to make a suggestion, I would say it tried to do too much to too little effect. The country should have a Natural History, Cultural and National Gallery. Doing all 3 in one building results in skimmimng, and overcrowding.

We paid our 35 Dollars, and entered the hall, where there were 50 plus works by Monet, Cezanne and Renior (as well as many others). It is hard to put into words the absolute beauty of the works in this hallway. They were far more beautiful in the paint than on even the best photographic representation.

I found myself getting impatient with the dullards looking at the works from 4 feet away, getting in my view. Learn how to view art, before spoiling my view. Up close, you could see the way Monet used the texture of the paint to create depth, At 12 feet the paintings were ethereal and dreamlike, as if this is how I would see the World, if I only had better eyes.

Of course there were other artworks in Te Papa, and some of them were very good (and some absolute tripe), but even the best must have felt like the man who takes his golf GTI to a race, when everyone else has Ferrari F50's. The Impressionists were just in a different class.

I have seen other great artists 'in the paint' (Turner was superb, as was Lucien Freud) but this was certainly the best exhibition of an artistic movement I have ever seen, I feel privileged

Be Good

40 years old, and time is running out!

40 years old.

At this age many things should be happening. I should be settling into the "cruise control" part of life, by now. My career should be settled, my family should be maturing nicely, all the struggles of the last twenty years should have born fruit, and I should be enjoying it all.

What this means to me is that should now be looking towards setting myself up for retirement.

I don't know, it seems to me that there just are not enough years between 20 and 40. The thought that there is about the same amount of time left in my career as I have had so far makes me panic a bit.

It has become one of my late night AAArrrrh moments, like my death and the thought of personal annihilation.

So a couple of weeks ago I had the great news that Jacqui, my lovely wife, was pregnant. I then had the less welcome news that Jacqui had miscarried. Buggerfuck.

This kind of brought a few things into focus. Like I have been stupid in not realizing what actually is important in my life.

I crave a big project, chaos and uncertainty. I used to think I didn't but now all that has been removed I realsize it's what makes me feel alive. And there is no bigger project, nothing so uncertain and no greater chaos that can visited upon you than a baby.

We didn't push trying to find out why Jacqui wasn't getting pregnant because of our 'busy life', Emigrating, buying a house, going back to see the family etc. until it is almost too late. 40 years old is the cut off point for fertility treatment in NZ, so I did what I swore I would never do, and we went private.

I hate the idea of private medicine.

I think in a truly good society, wealth shouldn't mean worth, so the fact I have a good job shouldn't mean that I should get better basic services (I regard Health as a basic service) than a poor person.

Dangerously Socialist in the US, common sense in Wales.

Anyway we met a realy nice Doctor who got us a load of tests (I had to wank in a jar!! horray!!!!) and we now have a clear way forward. So watch this space

On another note, Jacqui turned 40 on the 16th, and to celebrate, we all went ona trip to Wellington, stayed in a 5 star hotel (a suite!!) and saw the Monet exhiubition a Te Papa Museum.

The Impressionist paintings (Monet, Cezanne, Degas etc) were superb, The rest of the museum was a bit of a curates egg, OK in parts (Though we have been slightly spoilt by seeing the London Museums last year). Full blog to follow.

I want to go to the Smithsonian. But that can wait till after I get a baby sorted.

Never say never,

Prince Harry, and killing people

Hi,

I am not a Royalist. I am a Republican Socialist. So you might think I have a certain antipathy towards the Royal Family. Well, I don't. I actually have come to the conclusion as I have aged that the British constitutional Monarchy has many advantages over a Republic, as they are a figurehead, thus allowing a non-political expression of Patriotism.

What is odd is hat we have always expected our Royals to be Military. Which is OK, as long as they don't take it too seriously. Unfortunately, this crop of Royals has brought forth Prince Harry. Harry is a proper soldier. 

He was a noted sportsman at school, and excelled in every sport he took up, the more violent and physical the better. He went into Sandhurst, and was by all accounts a superb student. He then became a Royal Marine, and excelled there, showing leadership skills far beyond the level required by Royalty to become an officer. 

Harry seems to have found his niche, and his niche is killing people for Granny.

Which is why I kind of scratched my head when he was pilloried for calling the Taliban "towel heads" The reason? "Its Racist" What I say is we can't offend them, but killing them is OK? 

Bollocks, fuck the Taliban hard up the ass with a Milan Anti tank weapon. The more of those murdering, cowardly bastards we kill, the better. I don't like war, but murdering Homosexuals and terrorising civilians who don't agree with your 12 century worldview pisses me off more. The fewer Taliban and Al Queda, the better.

They also wring their hand because he called a member of his troop 'Paki', to his face. They all called him Paki. I have been called Taff by every Englishman, Scot and Irishman I have ever met. How is Paki different? 

These guys will fight and die for each other, and the politically correct crew are calling him racist? I assume that Paki carrier a self loading Rifle, so I am also sure that someone calling a man carrying an assault rifle Paki, does so with the Paki's acquiescence, because Paki is carrying a great big fucking machine gun. I have seen full metal jacket, I hope Harry has as well.

Lastly, we expect our soldiers to be saints who murder people because politicians say so. And we worry that they might be racist while carrying out these murders? 

I think we are missing the point

2008.

Hi, 

2009 will have to go some to beat the awesome year I was blessed with. Career wise I couldn't have had it any better, and am now sitting in the job that I always coveted. All I have to do is not screw up, which may be harder than it sounds!

My family is great, I am privelidged to be the Father to a super like soul, and Husband to a wonderful woman, who is loved by all who know her. I just sit around in the reflected glow of her popularity, and get to talk to her friends' husbands. Which is aboult as much sovial interaction as I am comfortable with.

I fulfilled 3 long term ambitions this year, traveling to the USA, Australia and seeing Bruce live. I spent 4 great weeks with my extended family, and all my brilliant mates. I got to bore Ieuan, talking about the frankly brilliant sights on display at the v&a, science and natural history museums.

Things I learned? I was not a good choice to be department manager, having seen Paula (my Boss) do it, I know that I would have been hopeless. 

LA isn't nice, Chicago is (though I did meet a very nice Angelino who talked us through how to use the Metro, stunning job mate!) 

Americans are not as dumb as the rest of the World thinks they are (Hello President Obama), and the old politics are dead (horray).

2009? Well some things don't change (Colts are out of the postseason) and some things do (The Caedinals? Really?) and that a webcam set up in a room full of your family is a surprisingly satisfying 2nd best to actually being there.

So there you go. Resolutions? Stop drinking. (2 days now) and blog more.

So there you are. See ya. 

A Week Off

How are you all?

I have a week off. Nothing planned, nothing to do, no one to see, just chillin'

I have to go into work on Monday to hand in my application form for the job I have been doing for the last year. They hope to have this all sorted by Christmas, and I am hopeful that they will.

Nicky, the previous PACS Administrator came back to work this week, and had her first day in PACS. She has had way more experience that I have had, and was there to set up the service. 

I hope that I can use that level of expertise to the advantage of the service, as I am bound to have made, and continue to make mistakes, in fact she pointed out one or two on Friday, which I will fix, and I am truly grateful for another set of eyes on things. 

It can't be easy for her to come into an area where she has been instrumental in setting up, to find I have moved in and changed the decor and furniture. She told me that she would rather not still be in PACS, but finance preclude her just doing MRI and general work. 

Needless to say when she speaks, I will listen hard, but ultimately I am responsible, and the final decision on anything rests with me.

Otherwise, I will use the week to sort out presents, and get in touch with those that matter to me. 

Being to far away from my family and friends, Christmas isn't a good time. I am by nature forgetful and lazy, and I hate conversing over the telephone. Hense Christmas cards don't get sent, letters don't get written, and I feel like a heel for not making the effort. 

I will try to be better this year. I also don' like the way that Christmas sneaks up on you, and suddenly you have missed the last post to the UK. Bugger

Finally, we should remember what christmas actually is all about..celebrating the birth of a Jewish pacifist who was brutally killed by being nailed to a lump of wood by a bunch of evil Italians while all his mates looked on and did nothing. Which is of course best celebrated with an obscene spending spree, drunkenness and gluttony. 

Dyspeptic? Moi?

My Mad Uncle

My first musical memory is my Dad putting on a new album on his Garrard record deck. The album was called "A Night at the Opera" by a bad called 'Queen'. Click....and that was it. The swelling piano, the angry guitars the noise building then..beautiful, powerful music, like I had never heard. 

It may well be the greatest album of all time, and has no tracks that are less than stellar. 

I wanted curly hair and one of those red guitars (I now own the guitar, but not the hair) I wanted to be as beautiful as Roger, as calm as John, as brilliant and passionate as Brian, and as mercurial as Freddy. 

I loved them all, but most of all, I wanted Freddie Mercury to be my Uncle. 

I would play every single record to death that Queen produced for the next 10 years, and I devoured every single thing Freddie wrote, was interviewed in or appeared in (though he was a very private man, and rarely gave interviews) 

He was so full of life, funny, articulate and just fun. 

My Dad told me that he was 'a poof', and late on I realised that that meant he liked having sex with men (He was actually Bisexual, his great love, Mary, spit with  him over his affairs with women. I guess he became more gay because men are easier, you can talk football after you finish fucking) 

Eventually Queen's brilliance faded, and the last 3 albums, whilst having some great tracks, also had some that were, for want of a better word, shit. Water treaders, fillers. Not  as good. 

Though at the end, they produced some great tracks ,Those Were The Days of our Lives,, 'I'm Going Slightly Mad', 'Its Late' and 'The Show Must Go On', which was number 1 the day they announced that Freddy was dead. 

Died of AIDS, caught of a Russian predatory omnisexual man whose name I forget, but allegedly did for Kenny Everett as well. 

 was devastated, my wife cried openly, and I felt that I had lost a part of what made me, me. 

Its been 17 years, but Freddie is still famous, because he has never left us, he is still a symbol of just how bright a star can be, and how much joie de vivre can be put into one man. 

Every time someone wins something, there will be 'We Are The Champions', every time someone loses 'Another One Bites the Dust' every time there is a need for awesome rock, there will be Queen.

As a ps, Freddie left all of his money, houses and royalties to Mary, who he wrote 'Love of My Life' for, and often said was the only person he ever loved. He may well have loved one person, but he was loved by millions. That surely is the definition of a successful Life.

Be Good