Wanders

Typical, really.

I sat down to do some work for university (in this case writing up a presentation on biofilm formation and signalling - I know...) and I haven't got very far. I suppose it's my own fault for putting on some 'folkier' music to listen to while working. For me folk music has this habit of dragging my mind, or my imagination at least, off to pictures of dense forests and stormy skies. It's interesting that simple songs can have such a profound effect. A few bars in and I am all set to pack a bag and venture into the valleys and hills of the North.

And so, because I cannot focus on molecular bacteriology, I feel I should do something constructive with my time. Next Summer I intend on travelling - starting an adventure of sorts. To bring you up to speed I will be heading North, and that's the only decision I have made. I suppose a route or schedule would be beneficial but I haven't got so far yet. I also need to start looking at the clothes and kit a 'would-be adventurer' is going to require. While a lot of people would look at all the organising as laborious, I love it. Every time I research a town to pass through I feel invigorated. Each purchase, be it simply socks or a rucksack, reminds me that my journey is growing ever closer.

Normally I am quite content to wait it out - yet there are always times like this. The clocks have gone back, plunging the North into long nights of thrashing rain and blustering gales. Outside, temperatures struggle to keep above freezing, and all around I can see flora dying back and withering away. But despite the weather and the darkness I sit here comfortable in the knowledge that things will look better soon. If I just ride out the Winter, the environment will become more welcoming. And I feel it is music like this - folk music with fiddles and long, deep chords that takes my attention beyond winter, to the next Summer in the North. These songs make me restless - encouraging that itch to pack up and run.

Tonight will be spent behind the bar. Pulling pints, serving patrons and resisting this itch.

Image Owner: Steve Bruce

The Fall

'This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper'

Ok, so the world is not ending, but the season is. It began earlier this week; shorter days, cooler temperatures and a distinct lack of blue sky. Summer seems to have passed us by in the north of England, as ever.
I had hoped the season would end in a flourish of brilliant sunshine and soaring temperatures. Summer seems to have a better idea. Summer intends to slope off, gradually fading into Autumn before anyone has the chance to ask where it's off to. Summer is the quiet girl at the party who slinks away after an hour or so - going home for the night because the music's too loud and her friends are too drunk.

For a lot of people Summer is the season. Perhaps it's the heat, the green on the trees or the blue up above. Or perhaps these people realise what comes after. The birds migrate, the leaves fall and Summer's bright colours fade into grey. For the majority, Summer is a brief 'warm-up' act - the year's headline performance is six months of icy winds and thrashing rain. It's easy to see why people are so attached to Summer.

Summer, however, is not for me. I find Autumn much more appealing. From the morning's frost-bitten lawns to the evening's inky-black, star-littered skies. I love seeing my own breath (as a child I pretended to be a dragon!), and I love the smell of smoke from chimneys and garden fires. Autumn for me is Halloween. It is treacle toffee and roaring bonfires. Autumn is fireworks, thick clothes and hot chocolate. While it is a little disheartening to see Summer on her deathbed, I am quite content.

...Autumn is coming.

Image Owner: Donna St. Pierre

Entropy

For those who read my blog, you may recall a post I wrote last month entitled 'The eye of the storm'. The post discussed how life can become very loud, busy and difficult on a whim - and that you should appreciate the fleeting moments of calm. Low and behold, last week life got hectic again. My time has been taken by a whole host of events;

• Crises of faith
• Family problems
• Friend problems
• Writing for other publications
• Managing a pub

Trust me, the list goes on. Thankfully I am working through a lot of this and have stolen away enough time to keep posting here.

Recently, a few friends have been having troubles. I'm sure you can relate. One day, out of the blue, a friend comes to you saying 'oh, my life is terrible. Nothing is working out.' We've all been there, and we all know how it feels to have the world against us. Over the years, as friends and family have presented this outlook to me, I have looked for a way to help and put their fears into perspective. This is my method of dealing with things when life gets to be a bit too much. 

Imagine all the good things in life in a pile. Your friends, your family, your passions and successes - these all make up the good pile. Then consider all the bad things. All the debt, health problems, upset and loss - these all make up the bad pile. In times of crisis the bad pile can be enormous; almost too large to bear. Heck, next to the bad pile, your good pile is a speck of dust at times. However, and this is the important part, these two piles do not influence one another. No matter how large the bad pile is, it does not diminish the good things you have. Those good things are no less special, uplifting or life-changing.

Of course this outlook works the other way. Should your problems be few and your 'good pile' be overwhelming - the bad pile is still important. It is still significant, and it should still be addressed. What I stress is this;

Add to the good pile, and chip away at the bad pile.

Image Owner: Donna St. Pierre