I’m In Love and Pining and Mad as All Hell and Other Collected Thoughts Which Have Been Recondite To My Consciousness The author and toddler, taken by wife and mother I have 3 hours across the Tasman Sea heading 278°, at Mach 0.89 and 36,000 feet ASL to compile some thoughts. I have this time as I allowed myself to be worried into running for the gate instead of buying a book… Rookie flier. So I intend to put this time to good use (better use would be sleeping). Love: I was shouting out lyrics in the car on the way up to the airport this morning, if you were in the car at 04:14 you’d’ve been treated to the sight of a 34 year old man crying as he sang “I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form “Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm”. I have twined that lyric and Mme. L. Inextricably. And I am oft given reason to pause and consider that I turned up on Mme. L.’s doorstep, suitcase in hand and she invited me in, careless to norms. So it is through Bob that I feel my love this morning. Pining: She’s been abroad for the week with Mlle. F. and I miss them both. Nay, miss is a nothing term. I am a preternaturally shambolic mess, my heart leaps at the sight of toddlers with a fringe pony tail and every noise uttered by my empty house is the wee poppet stirring. The weather is changeable, but southerly systems are starting to sink their chill across the land and the bed is cold and harsh when I venture a foot or hand across the void. I am glad to see them both in a few more hours. Cross: (which I much prefer to mad) There is a malicious and small part of me what wants to see the UK tear itself apart and utterly economically destroy itself, by leaving the EU. Sometimes I think it deserves nothing more.., and with the benefit of time and mature reflection I am glad our own shaky isles move away from the colonial feel. But I remember the good people If those great isles I have met and loved and I wish them hope. Then Nigel Farage appears standing in front of some anti-refugee billboard/truck sign propaganda which is terrifyingly identical to Nazi films and I am genuinely furious and worried about the rise of fascism, world over. David Cameron is an insipid piece of shit who’s been too weak to stop his country machinating itself apart, and his head needs to roll. Nary a weaker man has wielded such a pathetic power. Across the Atlantic the other party of that ‘special relationship’ looks set to elect a demagogue of pure evil and deceit. Trump is as bad as anything ever before him and I’ve actually been lulled into a false sense of complacency by his comedy, his head needs to roll. We’re (as a western hemisphere) on the verge of some proper genocidal shit and I am rather cross about it. Maybe my own utter impotence in making any change fuels my ire evermore so. Summarise Surmises: And I apologise to myself for the flippant flop from political rage to trivial epherma, but these thoughts have been rattling loose for too long now and it’d behove me to bring them out. Coffee as a metaphor for growth: I read a caffeine periodical recently, and an opinion piece on the differences and indeed approach to mass market consumer espresso, or boutique single origin filter, Got. Me. Thinking. Mass espresso = a bunch of bad beans roasted to within a degree of obliteration, giving you uniformly bitter and recognisable Costa, Starbucks, et alia, coffee. Single origin filter = uniquely one plantation’s best beans, roasted delicately to release a whole spectrum of flavour utterly different to any other brew. The article went on to caution that when first experiencing a delicate single origin and sweet brew of, say, blackcurrant, citrus and vanilla notes, you’ll probably find it quite unappetising. That is until your palate learns to adjust to the flavours other than bitter toffee chocolate coffee. I’m sure there’s a metaphor there, probably even a pithy epithet about “all that’s good”… Nevertheless, I find the impact of my recent discovery and love of good coffee, and the people and places it takes me, to be rewarding and enlightening. Building and breaking bikes: I am putting together a preposterous beater, and absolute mash of 5 rubbish tip bikes, I have an idea that I will ride it about Cambridge with Mlle. F. perched on the back rack. The process of simple (I mean the simplest!) mechanical tasks has felt inordinately rusty to me. However, is it the surely atavistic hark of man to engage his hands and mind in making that I feel such comfort within? I am developing and insatiable whim to buy a CNC router and begin making things. The beater is nearly on the road, just some tyres and we’ll be rolling. Perhaps that, maybe, will be just enough. Leaping into the void: I am poised to do just that. I have in my 34 years made a number of minor changes to my lifestyle, habits and enterprises, but I am dangling toes into an unfathomed void of change and it makes me nervous. Excited and charged, but nervous. Photography: The First Officer was kind enough to take me Leica IIIf into the cabin and snap a shot of sunrise out the starboard window, what a gesture.

I’m In Love and Pining and Mad as All Hell and Other Collected Thoughts Which Have Been Recondite To My Consciousness

The author and toddler, taken by wife and mother

I have 3 hours across the Tasman Sea heading 278°, at Mach 0.89 and 36,000 feet ASL to compile some thoughts. I have this time as I allowed myself to be worried into running for the gate instead of buying a book… Rookie flier. So I intend to put this time to good use (better use would be sleeping).

Love: I was shouting out lyrics in the car on the way up to the airport this morning, if you were in the car at 04:14 you’d’ve been treated to the sight of a 34 year old man crying as he sang “I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form “Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm”. I have twined that lyric and Mme. L. Inextricably. And I am oft given reason to pause and consider that I turned up on Mme. L.’s doorstep, suitcase in hand and she invited me in, careless to norms. So it is through Bob that I feel my love this morning.

Pining: She’s been abroad for the week with Mlle. F. and I miss them both. Nay, miss is a nothing term. I am a preternaturally shambolic mess, my heart leaps at the sight of toddlers with a fringe pony tail and every noise uttered by my empty house is the wee poppet stirring. The weather is changeable, but southerly systems are starting to sink their chill across the land and the bed is cold and harsh when I venture a foot or hand across the void. I am glad to see them both in a few more hours.

Cross: (which I much prefer to mad) There is a malicious and small part of me what wants to see the UK tear itself apart and utterly economically destroy itself, by leaving the EU. Sometimes I think it deserves nothing more.., and with the benefit of time and mature reflection I am glad our own shaky isles move away from the colonial feel. But I remember the good people If those great isles I have met and loved and I wish them hope. Then Nigel Farage appears standing in front of some anti-refugee billboard/truck sign propaganda which is terrifyingly identical to Nazi films and I am genuinely furious and worried about the rise of fascism, world over. David Cameron is an insipid piece of shit who’s been too weak to stop his country machinating itself apart, and his head needs to roll. Nary a weaker man has wielded such a pathetic power. Across the Atlantic the other party of that ‘special relationship’ looks set to elect a demagogue of pure evil and deceit. Trump is as bad as anything ever before him and I’ve actually been lulled into a false sense of complacency by his comedy, his head needs to roll. We’re (as a western hemisphere) on the verge of some proper genocidal shit and I am rather cross about it. Maybe my own utter impotence in making any change fuels my ire evermore so.

Summarise Surmises: And I apologise to myself for the flippant flop from political rage to trivial epherma, but these thoughts have been rattling loose for too long now and it’d behove me to bring them out.

Coffee as a metaphor for growth: I read a caffeine periodical recently, and an opinion piece on the differences and indeed approach to mass market consumer espresso, or boutique single origin filter, Got. Me. Thinking. Mass espresso = a bunch of bad beans roasted to within a degree of obliteration, giving you uniformly bitter and recognisable Costa, Starbucks, et alia, coffee. Single origin filter = uniquely one plantation’s best beans, roasted delicately to release a whole spectrum of flavour utterly different to any other brew. The article went on to caution that when first experiencing a delicate single origin and sweet brew of, say, blackcurrant, citrus and vanilla notes, you’ll probably find it quite unappetising. That is until your palate learns to adjust to the flavours other than bitter toffee chocolate coffee. I’m sure there’s a metaphor there, probably even a pithy epithet about “all that’s good”… Nevertheless, I find the impact of my recent discovery and love of good coffee, and the people and places it takes me, to be rewarding and enlightening.

Building and breaking bikes: I am putting together a preposterous beater, and absolute mash of 5 rubbish tip bikes, I have an idea that I will ride it about Cambridge with Mlle. F. perched on the back rack. The process of simple (I mean the simplest!) mechanical tasks has felt inordinately rusty to me. However, is it the surely atavistic hark of man to engage his hands and mind in making that I feel such comfort within? I am developing and insatiable whim to buy a CNC router and begin making things. The beater is nearly on the road, just some tyres and we’ll be rolling. Perhaps that, maybe, will be just enough.

Leaping into the void: I am poised to do just that. I have in my 34 years made a number of minor changes to my lifestyle, habits and enterprises, but I am dangling toes into an unfathomed void of change and it makes me nervous. Excited and charged, but nervous.

Photography: The First Officer was kind enough to take me Leica IIIf into the cabin and snap a shot of sunrise out the starboard window, what a gesture.