The One Where I Finally Finish a Blog Post

Last week was crazy. And I am saying that in the context of a sequence of weeks over (being honest) the last 2 years which have each outdone the last in their level of intensity. Every single time I think that a week cannot get more stressful or fast paced or mentally challenging it just does. At this point I am forced to actually appreciate the week I am in, however batshit, because the likelihood is it will ramp up a further (inconceivable) notch the following week.

I am looking back at things I wrote this time last year or the year before and laughing hard at what I considered to be challenging back then. Because right now I would take those weeks in a heartbeat over the levels of unrelenting chaos we now find ourselves in.

Last week I read a blog post by one of my colleagues (and friends) which summed up well the level of disparity between what normal used to look and feel like and what normal (genuinely) is right now. He spoke (so eloquently) of blog posts started and abandoned, an intent to write as a release being repeatedly thwarted by exhaustion and distraction and reflections on what a standard workday looks like - and man did I relate.

The sad and difficult element in all of this for me - a person who writes specifically to enable release - is that I cannot, at this juncture, write openly about the situation and set of circumstances that have brought us to this period at work where the whole of our time (predominantly mine and that of my management team) is taken up with incomprehensible drama and our attempts to navigate said drama. I am certain that day will come, and I will be able to look back on this period and draw a breath and reflect without it feeling like a gargantuan task of biblical proportions. I will have learned things, I am sure, that will carry me through future periods of disruption and provide me with the reassuring safety net of knowing I have the resilience to power through it. One day. But not now. Right now we must just keep on fighting the good fight and dragging ourselves through each week and remembering to keep making each other laugh while we do it for the sake of all of our sanities.

It is not just me feeling this stress either - everyone across our University (and our sector) is in a holding pattern of coping and doing more with less resource thanks to the pandemic and the economic impact on higher education. 

There has been a lot going on personally in the last 12 months too, and right now I am also trying to just breathe through a grief trigger which I know is just around the corner, that being the first anniversary of the loss of a good friend, which is made all the harder by not actually knowing what the actual (or at least what the Coroner's verdict on) date of death was. But I do know the date he was found and that I took that fateful phone call, and that is all I can mark it by for now. 

I miss Gilo - his daft and sometimes poignant comments on my Facebook posts (which regularly come up in Memories), his messages asking my opinion on things or offering his, just knowing he would be there and reliable as ever when I next went home. At our old house his photo hung in the hallway over my candle shelves, I nodded to him each day as I left the house and it helped somewhat, at our new house he is opposite the open plan kitchen and I often glance up and see him and smile, he was into cooking and our conversations were often about methods or tips or ingredients one of us was trying and so it feels apt. It still helps.

Gilo watching me from his spot at the new house

And yes - we have also moved house, around 6 weeks ago, and it was the usual levels of stress, chaos and (because of the wretched and Landlord skewed rental market in Australia) financially challenging activity that you would expect. The awesome thing was that we were MASSIVELY lucky in securing pretty much the perfect property for us in the location we wanted in a completely insane rental market right now (the new house was only viewed by 6 people, all of whom had already applied and been shortlisted) and also that my ever generous parents in the UK helped us out financially with juggling two leases for around a month and also with insisting on paying for removals on the day of the move (OMG what a game changer that was!).

So now we are moved, the lease on the other house is all paid off and the stress of getting the deposit back was successfully navigated - no mean feat in Australia. Things are starting to calm down and we couldn't be happier with the new house which has all the mod cons our last place didn't have (heating and cooling! a very good shower! a modern and functional kitchen with a dishwasher!) with the trade off being that we are no longer 20 metres from the esplanade - we are all of 250m away instead, which is a very manageable compromise.

On Sunday I finally watched the Friends Reunion (hence the title of this post) and my goodness I had forgotten how connected I was (am) to that show and the dynamic of those six characters, and yes, hindsight is 20/20 and I realise looking back that there were some problematic themes in that show and the cast is hideously non-diverse - but it was a show I leaned on for so many of my formative years through late teens and early twenties. It has underpinned and influenced so many references and weaved it's way into my conscience in such an innate way and it still a show that soothes my soul when I am tired, low or stressed - in fact reading back through the earlier parts of this post, maybe I should prescribe myself some downtime and Friends sessions in a bid to escape the pace of work and amount of general noise right now. 

I genuinely want to take moments out to appreciate the good things, the people who make it all worthwhile, my wonderful boys who keep me sane and make me laugh at home and the opportunities I get to decompress with them, but it is so hard to have the energy to do anything except collapse and rest in the moments outside of work right now. I know this is on me, that self care is in my control and that running a business (yes, I also set up an online business in the last 12 months!) is a difficult thing to do whilst working full time but it is a choice that I made. At the moment the creative release that I get from my candle based endeavours and the satisfaction of the odd sale replenishes my soul enough to make it completely worthwhile but at some point I might have to revisit that.

    A range of my candles and wax melts

The Alternative Candle Company

I feel like things might never go back to 'normal' in the work space - or at least not in the near future, and I am asking myself big questions about what that might mean for me and the remaining years of my career. I still love working in a University and especially on a vibrant campus, I know that Partnership working is where I thrive - and that inter-University partnerships give me the greatest joy. I know that leading creative teams is a skill set I bring and that I don't want to move too far from using it. A Director role will likely be what I go for next, but I don't want to run a team so large that I cease to have an authentic connection with each individual member. 

People matter to me, and I have reached an age where I don't flinch at all from being the 'warrior' leader - running straight into confronting situations to protect the team I have as best I can from strategic noise and high level stress. That behaviour pattern is exhausting though and I am physically and mentally tired from the amount of noise right now but I hope that my team know I will never stop fighting for them while I am able. 

God, I miss my family in the UK so much and have done so since the international borders shut in March 2020 and visiting them was removed as an option. My Covid jabs (Pfizer) are booked in for a couple of weeks time and I finally feel like I am able to do my bit to combat this bloody virus and take an active step back towards a time and a situation where I can board a plane and head off to see them all. I have a feeling there will be tears of appreciation on reuniting now that we have all spent some time without the convenience and freedom of international travel. 

Siblings

This is the longest period I have ever gone without a Mom hug and that alone is horrid. I want to meet my newest niece and congratulate my brother on his recent marriage and have a beer and a chinwag with my Dad and I want to banter with all my siblings and sibling in-laws in the way that only we can and I want to spend time with my precious UK friends who I have always treasured but who I perhaps now treasure with a newfound understanding of loss. 

And I need to grieve for Gilo in the place where we grew up and celebrate his life together with friends in a way that we have been prevented from doing so to date by covid and distance.

If nothing else the craziness of the last 18 months or so has absolutely made me appreciate the wealth of amazing people I have the privilege to know and that I will never take for granted ever again. 

In a few weeks we will (hopefully, state borders permitting) fly up to Brisbane for Christmas in July with some of our Aussie family and that will sustain me through the next few weeks - all we can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and breathing and try to leave work on time.

So there you are, a snapshot of my life right now, a blog post I finally finished and a cathartic release achieved. I really do need to make more time to do reflective writing - it helps so much.

Juice WRLD - Wishing Well

I am being stalked through every moment by this song. It happens from time to time, a song just gets absolutely stuck deep down in my brain, more intense than an 'ear worm' and harder to shake. My mind latches on to certain tunes and lyrics and just will not let go.

I have other blog posts that I could/should be finishing right now including a painful/cathartic review of 2020, but on a tram a few nights back, in the Gold Coast, alone but surrounded by holidaymakers, travelling back to our hotel after a night with friends, this tune played again (whilst shuffling my most played songs from the last year) and sometimes listening on headphones alone when you can really concentrate on a song it just gets you. So I started to write this, while it feels so vivid.

The words are heartbreaking, especially in context of George Floyd's death in March last year, the haunting refrain (and the opening line) 'I can't breathe....I'm waiting for the exhale" made even more pertinent when you learn that Jarad Anthony Higgins, otherwise known as talented rapper, singer/songwriter Juice WRLD, also passed in a traumatic and untimely way (from a drug induced seizure) at the age of 21 late in 2019. He had so much more to give but had battled addiction, anxiety and depression for a big chunk of his short life.

Last year, mid way through 2020, Triple J featured the posthumous album Legends Never Die as an album of the week and I was mesmerised by it - I distinctly remember hearing this particular track for the first time, I was driving to work and this started playing as I parked in the multi-storey car park. There was no way I was leaving the car until the song finished, at which point I searched it out on Spotify and put it on repeat as I walked into work.  

The raw and vivid lyrics in this song seem to come straight from the heart and given what happened to Higgins, how he died, what his life had been like, what his demons were, lines like:

Sometimes I don't know how to feel
Let's be for real
If it wasn't for the pills, I wouldn't be here
But if I keep taking these pills, I won't be here, yeah

...seem especially pertinent. To be so talented and so young and to not be able to win the battle against substances and mental heath issues is tragic but sadly not uncommon, especially in non-white (massively underserved) communities.

To me, Wishing Well is the stand out track on this album and absolutely sounds like a horridly portentous snapshot of a troubled and self aware young mind pondering on where his current demons and lack of help might lead. I wonder how much more music he had created before his death which may see the light of day posthumously, what a shame he didn't get to see the fruits of his labour with this album, which performed exceptionally well on the Billboard charts.

Higgins was particularly interesting as an artist to me because he refused to be categorised as one genre, he was a massive fan of emo, rock and guitar based music as well as rap, hip-hop and soul, he was a massive fan of the Beatles (John Lennon is referenced often in his songs) and was basically, at the heart of it, just a complete music addict - and I can totally relate to that.    

I have voted for this track as my favourite in this year's Hottest 100, I will be interested to see how it fares and if you have never heard it, please, give it a listen, it is one hell of a track.

For You

This morning was starting like any other Monday when the ground fell out from beneath me. 

An old friend was calling me, here in Adelaide, from our home town in the UK. I assumed it was an accidental call, they often are because my name begins with A and is at the top of many contact lists. I declined it and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, getting ready to get out of bed. What time was it in the UK anyway? 11pm? Must be around 11pm. But they called again and slowly my brain registered that there is no good reason for a persistent call like this, there is never a good reason for a late night/early morning unexpected call with this kind of perseverance. Sadly I have known this feeling previously in the last 12 months. It is a distinctly unnerving and baffling and sickening realisation that something is dreadfully wrong, and whilst you do not want to answer this call and surrender to the pain it likely contains, you absolutely must.

I answered it. 

Gilo. John. Stretch. The names you go by. I cannot bring myself to say ‘went’. Not yet.

I know I am in shock. I had to drive 5 minutes down the road this morning, directly after receiving the news, I cannot remember getting in the car, let alone the journey. I can’t keep my mind on anything, you were 41 and you deserved so much better than this. I am forever thankful to our mutual friend in the UK who diligently called those that you were close to and broke the hideous news first hand and listened to me make guttural noises of horror and said comforting things while he was also in shock, having found you, having had to process a scene none of us should have to see. Then I had to break the news to my oldest, bestest friend who is also here in Australia and see the shock and horror register with her too.

I am writing because it is the only way I know to process shock and pain and you understand that, I know you do, because you have a keen appreciation for the written word. You have often talked to me about my blog, my writing, and you took my entire library of classic literature, acquired over many years, off my hands when I moved to Australia, determined to give them a good home - you were delighted to take ownership of a curated and treasured collection and I was equally happy to entrust them to your care. I wonder how many you had read.

It is fair to say I am angry. Angry at the world because the COVID situation right now allowed you to slip away unnoticed for days, angry at you because you clearly were not looking after yourself and so many of us saw that you needed to and tried to encourage that, and failed (which makes me angry at myself). Angry that for the second time in a month the physical distance and global fucking pandemic will prevent me saying a proper goodbye to someone who mattered and had influence on my life. You mattered very much, and I wish I had told you that more often.

I met you when I was a rambunctious teenager, around 1997. You were part of the group I fell in with during sixth form college and you were memorable from the start. Mainly because you are so much taller than me, at least a foot and a half. That is why there is a whole raft of people who know you as Stretch. I have always known you as Gilo, a name you allegedly acquired due to a jacket you wore in primary school which somehow spawned a completely random nickname that stuck, in the way that random childhood nicknames often do with your school friends. I have never called you John.

There was a moment, cemented in the early history of our friendship, which we often laughed about as adults and could never quite forget. I have no idea now what nonsense led to it, but you are literally the only person in my life who has (quasi-accidentally) knocked me clean out with a perfect six inch punch to the jaw. And you were horrified about it, absolutely mortified, though I thought it was hilarious - and I never missed an opportunity to rib you about it in the many years since. It is ironic as you are, in fact, one of the most pacifistic and gentle people I have ever known, a genuine gentle giant. You care far too much about everyone around you and gave tirelessly to coaching kids (who clearly adored you) in trampolining, in your free time, for years. You gave your time and energy willingly and without a second thought to all of your friends. You helped me move house on more than one occasion and have been a shoulder to cry on through all kinds of drama over the years. I know that whatever I asked of you, you would have given - and there are many people in my life and in my various circles for whom I cannot say that with any certainty.

Social media has helped me today to look at photos from across the 23 years that you have been in my life; of parties, weddings, New Years Eve and Christmases, multiple occasions where we have drunk and danced and reminisced and laughed. You never think it will be the last time you say goodbye to someone important until it already was. I am so incredibly thankful that I saw you in February, when you met me for a drink despite the fact you had had two major bereavements in the space of a week, that I got to hug and comfort you for a change. In recent years you had remained part of an increasingly smaller circle of people that we always catch up with when back in the UK and I hope you know that is because you mattered. 

It meant so very much to Stu and I that you attended his Dad, your work colleague’s, funeral in late 2016. On a personal note, your quiet strength and the calm that you brought were incredibly welcome on such a difficult day and it resonated with us that you made the effort, not just to support us but to pay your own respects. I remember you holding me up, physically and emotionally, at the wake, when the gravity of the situation became too much - stepping in without being asked, to provide comfort and reassurance, because that’s what you do. It is simply second nature for you to catch people when they fall and I am so sorry that nobody was there to catch you when you really, really needed it. 

Grief is a heartless and relentless master and one with whom we all dance increasingly often as we get older. I am not sure any of us get better at dealing with it, we just become more resolved to the fact it is unavoidable. I know you were dancing your own tango with her when you left, and if I can take any comfort whatsoever from this deeply sad situation it is that you are released from it. 

Know that you mattered and will never be forgotten, know that people are reeling at your loss and treasuring their memories of you and who you were and all you gave to your friends and family. That in a year of absolutely dreadful events and sustained heartache, globally, you leaving is equally significant and still sending ripples across the fabric of those who loved you, such was the depth of your influence. May you truly rest in the peace you deserve, my friend. 

My Life in Music

**warning - long read**

What can I tell you about the role of music in my life that will do it sufficient justice? Not enough, no matter how much I write. It is cliched to say so, but it matters so very much that it must be in my DNA; it drives, documents and reflects my emotions on a daily basis, I simply cannot imagine not having access to it, always, and any person or event of significance in my life to date has a whole series of specific songs linked to them in my oddly configured brain. 

If you have been important in my life in any way then I can guarantee we have danced together and/or gone to gigs together and if you matter enormously then at some point you can bet I will have expressed my love via a mixtape (or these days, a playlist). If I made you one and you never gave me feedback then I am probably pissed about it on some level (joking, kind of).

I grew up in a house where there was always music on and it was encouraged by my very music-oriented mother to sing, to dance, to indulge in it (thanks Mom). There were music related rituals as standard in our house, like Sunday afternoon top 40 listening sessions which would then segue into Mom listening to (and singing along with) The Carpenters or Madonna, or George Michael while she did the ironing and we had our baths. I remember being utterly fascinated by Rondo Veneziano  - whose albums were played on high rotation in our house and with whom both my parents were infatuated. It was my first exposure to any kind of orchestral music and, to this day, if I need to calm down and zone out it ticks that box perfectly.

Returning to music that my birth parents (I also have step parents) had in common, there was a lot of Motown and Northern Soul in my childhood and it was a bond between them too, a shared appreciation that lasts for both of them to this day (while their marriage, sadly, did not!). I associate this genre of music very strongly with both my parents, who will still jump up and dance to it whenever they get the chance.

Mom sang in a contemporary choir when we were small so she sang a lot round the house, practicing her parts - and she sings beautifully. I wish I sang as well as she can - I can hold a tune but it's nothing special. I had singing lessons for a while in my late teens and navigated them perfectly well, but it is not a gift for me like it is for her. I still sing a LOT, mainly when I am driving or cooking. I have an expensive (but well worth it) bluetooth speaker in the kitchen which is almost continually on when I am pottering around in there (another favourite pastime) and to spend an afternoon prepping food, cooking and baking with music on, sometimes singing along, is a real treat. I have been asked whether I would like to join a choir by people I know that sing in them (and enjoy it enormously) but I personally know this would ruin singing for me - I don't like the formality or confines of being told what/when/how to sing, though I do enjoy seeing other people do it well.

My earliest memories of singing as a small child date back to when I was in the school choir and in a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat in my final year of primary school (Year 6). I also recall singing in various Christmas carol concerts and I used to actually enjoy school assemblies for the singing (until I cottoned on to the overly religious nature of majority of the songs we were confined to). I have a weird encyclopaedic memory for lyrics and still remember the words to lots of ridiculous nonsense songs from school too (about sandwiches and worms and other random things). I can ALWAYS find lyrics that say what I mean, in every situation.

In 1993/94 while at high school I finally stopped obsessing over East 17 (!) and exclusively listening to chart rave (Utah Saints, early Prodigy, The Shaman) when I discovered indie music by dint of Beck's debut smash 'Loser' and Suede's single Stay Together. I distinctly remember the trouble I got into at some point in that year when Mom gave me money to get a new School uniform polo shirt and instead I went straight to Our Price Records at Telford Town Centre and bought a cassette copy of Suede's eponymous debut album. It changed my life. 

To and from school everyday became my listening time (20 mins on the bus, 20 mins walking) on my beloved Sony Walkman. And I started to gravitate towards the other kids who were listening to this kind of music, swapping taped copies of Nevermind, Beck's 'Mellow Gold', PWEI 'Two Fingers My Friend', Rage Against The Machine, Licence to Ill and then further into 1994 becoming quite obsessed with The Offspring (Come Out and Play was almost worn out with overuse for a while), Green Day, Weezer, Rancid, NOFX and also all the Madchester bands from the late 80s and recent early 90s - The Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Charlatans and so on. It was like discovering a bottomless treasure chest of amazing things and my appetite for it was quite insatiable (still is).

My grandad bought me my first pair of Doc Martens at age 15 for passing my GCSEs in English Literature and Language a year ahead of schedule. There was technically no rule against me wearing them to school - but my mom hated them and it caused some enormous rows about how appropriate they were for school, at one point she locked them in the boot of her car to prevent then being worn (I can laugh now, I could not at the time - and I currently, at age 41, own 3 pairs of DMs).

Meanwhile I had grown my hair long, bleached it, and was proudly wearing long sleeve band shirts almost full time when not in actual school uniform. To my families' amusement my favourite was one I had stolen borrowed from my friend Anna (love you Tyler!) which had "IDIOT" emblazoned on it in large letters across the front - a prized piece of Wonder Stuff merch purchased for her by one of her much older and cooler sisters. I think this was the Christmas when I used food colouring to dye my hair 50/50 red and green (festive colours right?) and provoked an absolute showdown with my poor mother (at this point just about dating my future step dad, who I am sure found the histrionics endearing....maybe).

My final year at School (1994/5) was also the year I started being allowed to go to gigs (albeit driven to and from by Grandad) and we (Anna and I) duly attended Suede at Wolverhampton Civic Hall in the November of 94. After this the gigs came thick and fast for about the next 20 years. Somewhere (probably in Mom's loft in a cardboard box marked "Ali") is a scrapbook with all gig tickets in chronological order between 1994 and around 2003. I didn't stop going in 2003, I just got lazy about maintaining the book so from there in it is sporadic and there are multiple (annoying) gaps. 

Festivals became a major hobby/addiction/investment from 1996 onwards. I was now at college pursuing my A levels (English, Tudor History, Theatre) and revelling in the freedom to wear band merch and docs every day and hang out with all the other indie kids for whom music was not just an interest, it was a lifestyle and a religion and defined your tribe. I remember vividly the summer of 1996 when somehow I managed to attend Phoenix Festival (highlights - Cypress Hill, Bjork, Chemical Bros & Prodigy) , Reading Festival (highlight - RATM for my first mosh pit split lip, lowlight - The Stone Roses being completely ruined by Ian Brown being out of tune) and Oasis at Knebworth as well as numerous stand alone gigs. I have no idea where I found the cash for such a jaunt around the scene and country at age 17, let alone the amount of Carlsberg, vodka and other substances fun that was essential for such endeavours.

1996 was the summer where I grew up. I was in my first 'proper' relationship (which introduced me to heavier music; during this time I attended gigs by Korn, Limp Bizkit, Skid Row, Paradise Lost, Shelter and Pantera, among others, and fell totally in love with Faith No More), I had two part time jobs, I was learning to drive and my group of mates was now defined and starting to hang in pubs with jukeboxes, which was an excellent way to learn all the cool stuff I hadn't even discovered yet. A standard Friday night was spent in the Kings Head in Wellington playing pool, drinking Archers and lemonade (?!) and feeding pound coins into the jukebox (or begging boys to give me their pound coins to spend - a surprisingly successful strategy when you have waist length blonde hair).

Most weeks we were at a gig or two, some weeks had gigs most nights, and at some point in 1996 I was at a gig in Wolverhampton with my college mates when they introduced me to a couple of their friends from school, one of whom was a guy called Stuart. I did not realise the significance of this at the time. We cannot agree now on whether this fateful meeting took place at a gig by Ash or Garbage, but it was definitely a UK indie band of some sort and possibly one of those two. 

Between 1996 and 2000 I was also a regular at a brilliant, iconic and now legendary monthly trance/drum n bass night in Birmingham called Atomic Jam, which took place in the Que Club - a converted church which still had the massive stained glass windows. Seeing the sun come up through them at dawn on a Sunday, after an entire night dancing and sweating with your mates was truly the closest I have ever been to a spiritual experience and if you have seen the movie Human Traffic then you would have a great understanding of what these nights (and their aftermaths) looked and felt like.

The main room at Birmingham Que Club during Atomic Jam

Over the years between 1997-2000, while at University, we were socialising a lot, every summer was a series of festivals (almost always Reading and V Festival) and for a while I was living in a shared house with two friends where there was usually music on, my room was adorned with posters and I owned hundreds of CDs. Most Saturdays we would head to Blast Off! - an indie night in Wolverhampton, where we would dance until the lights came on around 2am. Many a short lived relationship was sparked or died (or both) on that dancefloor for all of us and over 20 years later I still have some incredibly strong and bonded friendships with people from that group of mates. 

In 1999 Stu and I had made it official and were now properly together, him at Uni in London and me still in the Midlands. We made each other mixtapes and sent them in the post with actual pen-and-paper letters (remember them?!) I still have a box of them with me in Australia. I have also recreated those playlists in Spotify for nostalgia's sake (Deus - Hotellounge, Gene - London Can You Wait? will always take me straight back to that time).

My best ever non-graduate job was working for Virgin Megastores between 1999 and 2002 which indulged my love of music by providing me with access to Elvis (the store database) and a massive retail sound system for playing whatever you felt like outside of store opening times (though, as you can imagine, surrounded by passionate musos the competition to get your choice played was fierce, think High Fidelity levels of music grandstanding). Here I learned to appreciate The Beta Band, PJ Harvey, Bob Dylan, Bright Eyes and (weirdly) Eva Cassidy as well as lesser known acts like Clem Snide, Elwood and Turin Brakes. I adored that my musical knowledge was actually a massive benefit in this job and that I was surrounded by colleagues who felt the same. If I ever win the lottery I will happily open and run an independent record store, it is literally the happiest I have ever been at work by a mile.

Stu and I lived together in Shifnal, London, Shifnal again...until we got married in 2003 - the week before our wedding we went to see Eminem at Milton Keynes bowl, a spectacular wedding present from our friends the McCreddins. 

Wedding planning was a bit of a ball-ache but I do remember being particularly specific about our DJ needing to be able to accommodate our indie tastes and also play Motown - and our first dance was a little leftfield too, it was U2 - All I Want is You (read the lyrics) - a decision that Stu had completely agreed with, not realising it was over 6 minutes long, an excruciatingly long time for an introvert to spend swaying about on a dancefloor in full gaze of all of his family and friends (oops). One of the glitches* in our wedding day was that our DJ had a car accident and was unable to attend, thankfully our wedding planner found an emergency replacement that fitted our quite specific needs and had the all important first dance in his collection. For our 1 year wedding anniversary, Stu bought tickets to see U2 at City of Manchester Stadium, it was as amazing as it was thoughtful.

When I think about the first house that we bought in the UK I immediately think of Arcade Fire's debut Album 'Funeral' and Interpol's debut 'Turn on the Bright Lights' - both excellent albums that were on high rotation around that time in 2004. I also remember a quite legendary birthday/NYE party that happened on my 26th birthday as 2004 turned into 2005 - dancing to Outkast 'Hey Ya' in our living room with our closest mates, someone having an ipod with them for the first time and controlling the music via that amazing device. The playlist that night was also heavy on The Libertines, The Kooks, The White Stripes and many other bands whose names started with 'The' (it was an early/mid noughties theme).

In August 2006 my brother in law and good friend Graeme and I drove down to London and back in a night to see Madonna on her 'Confessions on a Dancefloor' tour - it was worth the insane amount of driving and tiredness. Graeme and I have probably been to more gigs together than I have been to with anyone else, including multiple Suede fan club gigs and I owe him for introducing me to Bowie in particular. 

In 2007 I went travelling with my best friend Claire and we did a road-trip in the USA, exploring route 66 but mainly staying in the west around Arizona, Nevada and California. It was the second time we had been there together having made our first trip in 1998 and this time around we drove a lot whilst playing music. I distinctly remember what felt like some kind of magical epiphany moment driving on the I-15 from LA towards Vegas, seeing that incredible mirage of a city begin to appear on the horizon at dusk with The Killers 'Hot Fuss' playing in the car. The other albums that remind me so much of that trip are Kanye West's Graduation and RHCP Stadium Arcadium.

Claire & I having breakfast in Hollywood in 2007 (note The Vines t-shirt!)

The following year, she and I would do another road-trip up the east coast of Australia (my first visit) where the most disastrous thing that happened (among MANY incredible things that happened) was that I lost a cd holder containing about 48 (mostly self-burned) discs in Hervey Bay somewhere and we were left with minimal in car music for the rest of our trip. I still wonder which lucky sod found that carefully curated collection of my music library. 

Claire & I at Hervey Bay in 2008, about 10 minutes before I realised I had lost all my CDs

Of course, these days my entire music library is much harder to lose because it is predominantly in the cloud and driven by my phone and mainly consists of curated lists on Spotify and my (hardly used) iTunes library. The days of owning a physical collection of CDs and vinyl seem so archaic and I was personally forced to accept this fully in 2013 when we emigrated and had no choice but to severely downsize our belongings for the ten thousand mile relocation. 

There are a swathe of songs that will always connect me deeply with Adelaide because that first winter we were here they were my high rotation listens while we found our feet, these include Haim's debut album The Bones of What you Believe, and Arcade Fire's fourth album Reflektor and since then my music taste has been massively influenced by the Australian music scene with a whole lot of Violent Soho, Gang of Youths, Amy Shark, Hilltop Hoods, Meg Mac, Alex Lahey, Polish Club etc a frequent presence on my 'most played' list. 

My taste in music is still pretty eclectic, I go through phases listening mostly to emo, or mid-90s grunge, or 80s classics and I am as likely to be listening to Fleetwood Mac as to Funeral for a Friend on a Sunday afternoon (this week it is a passing reminiscence/obsession with 90s Ibiza tunes, thanks to the excellent Netflix produced series White Lines) - just let there always be access to music in my life, thats all I ask. For me, if a person has passion for music in any form then it is usually a safe guess that they are my kind of human being. 

I was inspired to write this blog when I watched Beastie Boys Story a few weeks ago and was so incredibly overwhelmed with love for that band and their history and all the things it meant to me that it made me ponder on why music moves me so much (I still don't know the answer to this). I saw Beastie Boys live 3 times (twice at festivals and once at Birmingham NEC) and feel so privileged to be able to say that about a band no longer in existence but still so relevant. Check Your Head would be on my list of top 10 influential albums in my life for sure. 

This week we finally got notification that the Hella Mega tour date we had tickets for (Seattle, in July) has been postponed - not a surprise really, in 2020 COVID meltdown. I am still processing the sadness about this, because it features 3 of my favourite bands ever on the same bill. I am crossing everything that it just gets moved out by a year and we can reschedule the amazing trip we had planned around this show. These days I may not go to 2 or 3 gigs a week but the gigs we do go to are usually major events like this one. 

It is fair to say that music has defined and soundtracked everything in my life and will likely continue to do so. I have never wanted to go out and dance more than in the last 10 weeks or so while we have been in isolation and I can't wait for that first opportunity. Until then it's just me and my headphones having a silent disco in my kitchen or enjoying the insane bass produced by my Jeep sound system. 

As you were ;)

*other glitches at our wedding included a fistful of confetti being aggressively shoved down my top, a particularly feral relative stealing our photographer at a critical moment and then getting shitfaced before crawling around the dancefloor on all fours and a giant penis being drawn on the door of my new in-laws hotel room by mistake....

Isolation Dedication

This is not the 2020 any of us were expecting, right?

Someone gave our local statue a new look.

I think it's fair to say we have been somewhat hoodwinked by the planet at this point and that Mother Nature is schooling us on who is really in charge around here, having finally reached the end of her tether with humanity pissing all over her back yard. Who can blame her?

Anyway, it is only April and here I sit, isolated (physically), bewildered by the state of the world right now and trying to imagine what 'normal' life will look and feel like when this is all over, because it genuinely seems that we will never truly go back to how things were. We cannot. The game has changed.

We thought 2016 was a fucker of a year, when we lost Bowie, Carrie Fisher, George Michael, Alan Rickman and my wonderful father-in-law and the Brexit referendum shocked everyone and Trump was elected. All. In. The. Same. Year.

But now it seems that 2016 was a dry run for something much, much worse. Who knew?!

Watching any news channel at the moment is an ordeal. None of the news about this disease (I shan't say it's name because I think we have all heard it at least a million times too many by now and it might behave like Voldemort and draw strength from it) is easy to digest. It is terrifying, significant, weighty and simultaneously gripping because none of us alive right now have seen or experienced anything like it. This is a life defining moment for all of us, and those that survive it will never, ever forget what it did to us and how it changed our lives.

My heart goes out to people who have lost someone, or more than one person, to this virus. Especially because at the moment that will often mean having lost a loved one without having been with them when they slipped away. Grieving in isolation, tormented by the ravaging hideousness of that raw emotion without any standard support mechanisms, without human touch and comfort, without the process of closure defined by a funeral and a wake - at least not one like we are accustomed to.

I reflect on losing Nana last year and how much harder that would have been if I was unable to get on a plane and head back to the UK and physically be with my family, to be comforted in their presence and hold them close and celebrate her life together. It was one of the hardest things I have ever been through, and I never thought, less than a year later I would be feeling gratitude and relief that it happened last year and not this year because of the different and highly distressing experience it would have been. 

I feel guilty for this gratitude and relief. We are, of course, programmed to feel guilty when we don't have it as hard as others. Unless you are a sociopath of course.  But I note, on social media, where everyone is living their "social" lives right now, there is even more anger and angst and vitriol than usual, and tragedy everywhere, and fear. And I, personally, just want some of the screens I am limited to interacting with (instead of people) right now to not be full of negativity, but to be radiating hope and finding silver linings, and celebrating how people are supporting each other. 

So, I have had a cull and blocked or unfollowed a lot of people. They were probably people I should have removed a long time ago (some mood hoovers for sure), but in some respects, this crisis is making decisions easier than they ever have been before, in the name of self preservation.

I have been working from home for around 3 weeks solidly at this point and my god I miss my team, our beautiful campus, I miss walking between meetings, I miss being able to wander into town at lunchtime, I miss the general freedom that we have when things are ok and there isn't a bloody pandemic raging. There are things I never knew I took for granted (all the things listed above for a start) and which I will try earnestly to not take for granted ever again.

For me, I realise how incredibly privileged I have been in my career, especially over the last 4 years with University of Adelaide, where I have had many opportunities to connect with global partners and visit them and work with them, some of them (mainly in the USA) multiple times. I should have been preparing right now for a visit to UC Davis in Sacramento. Just saying those words seems like an insane notion at the moment. This is problematic for me, because I know, logically, that it is going to take a long time for business travel and the higher education sector to recover from what is going on right now, and that means a removal of one of the main sources of joy in my role for an unspecified amount of time. 

I am so very proud of my team, who are always a source of joy and support and who continue to make me laugh on a daily basis. We have always, as it happens, engaged with each other fairly socially outside of work hours (on messenger and the like - we have had a team spotify playlist for a couple of years) so adapting to slack as the 'official' channel for this has been pretty smooth, it just feels like we talk 24/7 now because all that happens after business hours is we switch format from slack to messenger and carry on. And the banter is still there, thank god. The last month has been insane in terms of workload, but we are all coping admirably and trying to cut each other some slack (arf) when it is needed. if anything, I would say our productivity has gone up.

And I realise how many hobbies I have neglected over the years and which I am now able to dig out, resurrect and remember why I liked them in the first place. The callouses are back on my fingers from picking up the guitar, I am finding time to play PS4 (and I have awesome friends who have lent us a whole heap of games to play), I am doing zumba a few times a week as exercise (on the Wii), finding time to read and bake and cook more (though I have never stopped those things) and when I get chance there is a blanket to finish crocheting and a scarf to finish knitting. It could be so much worse. 

Who knows what the rest of this year will look like, I am trying to rationalise that nobody can know and that we just need to count our blessings and abide by the guidance to keep isolating and thank our lucky stars for science and all the people doing the incredible research to find a vaccine and keeping the front line of health care going. They will be remembered as the heroes in all this. 

If nothing else, 2020 is the year when we were all forced to stop, adjust our lifestyle, remember that humans are not omniscient and all powerful, appreciate the things we have, slow the pace and try to support one another. It is not easy or enjoyable, but we will come through this at some point and look back and remember that year when we did the impossible and defeated a virus together. Imagine the afterparty. Imagine that.

So stay safe and do the things that help your mental health right now, there really is a light at the end of this tunnel, even if we can't quite see it just yet. 

On Grief

Nana and I (aged 1) circa 1980

Today marks the 3 month anniversary of the death of my wonderful Nana. It is fair to say it has been a very strange and eye opening period of time for me and one which has taught me so much - things that I wish nobody ever had to learn - about grief.

Sure, I have lost people before. I think it would be highly unusual to reach the age of 40 without having had people in your life pass away (if you are in that position then, wow, you are lucky). I lost my Grandad when I was 16 and about to sit my GCSEs, I lost my other grandfather, who I didn’t really know, at 19. I shockingly lost a friend (he was 27) when I was in my early 20s. Other extended relations have passed through my 30s.

Then we lost my lovely father-in-law completely out of the blue 3 years ago. That was hideous and hard and we aren’t out of the woods (or anywhere near) with grieving that loss as a family (or individually) yet.

But nothing has hit me personally with anywhere near the juggernaut level of physical, mental and emotional impact that this loss has.

It has led me to dig through my (thankfully extensive) memories of her, question myself on big decisions and generally reflect on how lucky I was (we all were) to have her in our lives. People throw platitudes and cliches around in general after people die, about how nice the deceased person was, they laud them as a saint of some sort, it usually holds some grains of truth but also glosses over the flaws and imperfections that the person had. Ignores the things they did wrong, the people they angered. It’s ok, it’s one of the ways that we cope with loss. But when I say that nobody ever had a bad word or a snarky thought about my Nana I mean it.

I totally acknowledge that I can only talk about her loss and my grief from the perspective of a grandchild. Her first and eldest. Maybe I have rose tinted glasses. But I actually really need to face this, to write this, to process it. Because right now I am struggling and I need an outlet. These are my thoughts on my loss. I am sat at my kitchen island with a large mug of tea, (ironically) Funeral for a Friend on in the background (‘grieving me’ reverts to Manchester indie and emo very strongly, I have learned) and I am just going to write until something gives and I can feel some release. It might be a long read.

So, despite the vastness of the English language, I have found it hard to find suitable words to convey what my Nana was to us, her grandchildren. It’s actually not about suitability, its about worth. ‘Suitable’ words are ten a penny, but they are quite weightless, at the end of the day, and will never quite frame the importance of her to us, the extreme levels of love and warmth that she imparted, the huge amount of difference she made to our lives, especially when we were children.

For my brother and I in particular, Nana was, for many years, the person who looked after us every single day after school until one of our parents finished work. Her and Grandad’s house really was our second home, every single school holiday we spent most days with her and it wasn’t unusual for us to then stay with them over weekends too. We loved it. She used to put sugar in our tea (she wasn’t meant to - I grew out of that but it’s a legacy my brother never did) and allowed us to raid the biscuit tin (hers was ALWAYS full) freely.

I could tell you many stories about the silly tricks we played on her, the fun we had together, the fact that being sick and off school was actually a huge treat, because it meant a day at Nana’s, watching This Morning and drinking endless cups of tea. But these stories will only scratch the surface of the presence that she was in our lives, all knowing, all seeing, brimming with kindness. Ours.

I know that we (the first three grandkids - me, my brother and my cousin) were supremely fortunate to get two different and influential experiences with Nana, firstly as a continual caregiver when we were small, steady through our childhood, patient through tantrums, taking us on holiday with Grandad and then getting very little rest on what was, in fact, meant to be her break too, while we made memories and ran rings around them. She was a brilliant referee and peacemaker. She hated conflict of any kind.

Me, cousin Lianne and brother Andrew circa 1987

And then, such a valuable gift, Nana as our friend, ally and adult family member that knew us, inside out, our personalities, weaknesses, strengths and preferences, she knew it all, she loved us anyway. It was this version of Nana that I am very conscious I have lost. Someone who deeply knew me and what mattered to me, and what has made me who I am and who I could trust with absolutely anything.

I can say all of these things about my mom too - and it makes me freak out with anxiety on a whole new level when I realise (and type) that because I live 10,000 miles away from her and only get limited physical time with her (in the same way that I did with Nana over the last 6 years) I might be wasting precious time. I have very much battled with the urgent, visceral desire to be in the UK since Nana passed (I did manage to get back for 10 days for the funeral) and it is this angle on it all, the physical distance, that causes that. Knowing she was proud of me and the life I have carved out here, on the other side of the planet, doesn’t make me feel any easier about the distance right now. It is also really, really, hard being this far from my mom in her grief.

The last few times that I did physically see her, on trips back to the UK, Nana and I had some very pragmatic conversations about what would happen when she passed. She didn’t want me to ‘waste’ money coming back for her funeral, I told her (quite truthfully, and accurately, as it turns out) that there was no way I would be able to grieve if I didn’t. She still sought to reassure me that it was ok if I couldn’t for whatever reason. I am so glad we had those conversations, although at the time it was really hard and on the two occasions I specifically recall this happening I also remember that the goodbyes that followed were absolutely heartbreaking because we both knew that there was a chance it would be the last time. On the second occasion we were right.

If I can advise anyone of anything relating to future grief it would be to talk about it in this way - as hard as that was at the time it has provided a highly comforting safety blanket in the aftermath and although I will always feel like I had so much more I wanted to say, to ask her, to consult with her on, I at least know we had stared this in the face together and acknowledged it so that I knew her thoughts and we had a chance to eyeball that fear and know where we both stood on it.

At an outdoor production of Twelfth Night circa 2008

The other thing that has helped me and been a source of good comfort is a podcast that was recommended to me called The Griefcast. I have learned so much about the wide variety of reactions, approaches and impacts of grief from this and it really does make you realise that you are not alone. I have literally had this podcast on in the car nearly every day as I drive to and from work. Far from being upsetting it is a reassuring voice that has, on some days, enabled me to see the bigger (more terrifying) picture that we will all die and that the very human process of death, dying and grief should get more airtime and be less of a taboo subject.

The thing that I never anticipated about this kind of grief is that it can affect you physically. I have slept more since Nana died than I usually do, like a LOT more (and I am already, normally, an excellent sleeper and napper). I feel supremely exhausted all the time, like I never have before. I ache in places I have never ached - some of this is a physiological reaction to stress and anxiety which is affecting my posture and making me clench without realising it. My jaw is perpetually tensed and my teeth ache from grinding. Regular massage and exercise is helping a little with this side of things but I never expected it.

The anxiety and stress are partly driven by other things in my life, like work, where I hold down a fairly high pressured and fast paced job. The difference is that usually I am pretty resilient and able to cope with all of that - but at the moment I feel like I am missing a layer of skin or something, I am exposed and vulnerable and I don’t have the layer of enthusiasm and tenacity that I usually rely on to get me through. Small things, that wouldn’t normally bother me at all, have suddenly become overwhelmingly derailing, upsetting and unmanageable. That feeling is hideous.

A friend and colleague signposted me to this description of grief that seems to nail the whole process very well. The waves are still coming fairly thick and fast at the moment for me, but I can see and take some comfort in the knowledge that while they will still come in the future, I will get to a place where they come less often and are possibly smaller in intensity.

You really do figure out who your people are in this kind of situation and for me that has been something heartwarming to understand. Those that know me well (like she did) will know that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve anyway - it is not hard to tell what mood I am in at the best of times. At the moment the people I spend most of my time with, my family, my team at work, my wider colleagues, are all handling this weirdly fragile version of me with a huge amount of tenderness, consideration and humour (which I need). For that I am enormously thankful and apologetic for the ongoing and erratic bursts of instability and occasional petulance that results.

If nothing else, I now have an idea of what direct, close, deep grief is like - and it really fucking sucks. But it hurts so much because they mattered and therefore we can choose to frame it as a demonstration to ourselves of quite what we have lost. It doesn’t make it hurt any less but it helps with accepting it and riding it out, instead of trying to contain or ignore it (which I am learning just exacerbates it).

And we must unfortunately accept that this will not be the only time we feel this way. In fact there will be more, different and possibly worse versions of this to come. That thought is both quite terrifying and weirdly life affirming.

I think this has helped somewhat. The writing it down, the getting it out of my head. I can take some comfort in believing that Nana knew she was loved very much and that she was not alone when she passed.

She will always be with me in many ways, as a guiding light and an example of how to be a kind person first (always) and as a warm memory of safety from my childhood. As a smart, funny, articulate crossword solver and as a regular confidante in my adulthood. I know she was so very, very proud of me because she told me. Next year I intend to begin the PhD that I have been thinking about for the last 10 years and I know she would have been thrilled to hear that news. She thought I could do anything. I want to prove her right.

Blink, and you'll miss it.

Right then.

Despite best intentions, I did not manage to blog through 2018.

It is now May (MAY?!) 2019 and here I sit, annoyed with myself for not having utilised blogging as much as I should have, as an outlet and a creative release. So what happened?

Well. Firstly, early in 2018, I had an intriguing experience of censorship occur. It challenged my views on a number of levels, made me rather cross at the time and ultimately clarified some relationships in quite a powerful way. I can now view it as a positive experience overall but it made me slam the brakes on in my writing somewhat. 

What I did about it was to create a whole new place where I can write about the challenges of corporate life without the fear of censorship from any direction. Yes, it requires careful editing and a number of VPNs, but the freedom it provides is worth the effort.

And accordingly, this blog will now remain a space for all other musings and any generic, non-contentious views on my working life.

What else has been happening? Well, I turned 40 in Costa Rica which was memorable and pretty enjoyable. I stopped to breathe it all in and tried not to freak out about it too much. It has affected me in a few ways, not really an existential crisis but definitely a thought provoking and strangely liberating experience which has generated a lot of reflection and a sense of inner calm.

The view from horseback in Costa Rica on my 40th

I went for a new job which is a level higher and a pretty meaty role, I am now Associate Director Online Programs for University of Adelaide and I feel pretty damned proud every time I say it out loud. It is fair to say that I was not expecting (or expected) to get this role - but I fought hard and I got it. That in itself has been a baptism of fire. Despite being in the same organisation, in fact I think because of being in the same University it has been harder to get to grips with, partly because I am still carrying a lot of activity relating to my old role and partly because everyone (including senior leaders) is still processing the change and struggling to acknowledge any difference in my role. This could also be subjective and the result of some cognitive bias on my part because I am suffering somewhat with imposter syndrome (that most evil of sensations).

This year also seems to be the year of the public speaking engagement for me. I wanted to do more of this and so while it is a challenge it is a good one. I submitted papers successfully for two major conferences relating to the online/educational technology space and was successful. On top of that I was asked to be a speaker at another event and accepted - however, in some wholly unhelpful timing the three speaking engagements (all of which involve travel and time away from the office) have fallen between the end of March and this coming week - so pretty much overlapping with the start of the new role. Not ideal but it can't be helped.

I have realised I truly enjoy being the face and voice of my team at these events, even though they tend to be emotionally and physically exhausting -long days, continual networking and tons of prep - but it is all worthwhile when someone says at the end of your session (as they did the week before last) "That was inspiring!" or mentions how innovative what we do in this space is (yes it is!). My one wish is that I was at a point where I could truly concentrate on and engage with these events and not be continually answering emails and phone calls from the office - I think that will settle though, once we are fully up and running with the activity relating to Online Programs. 

So, I am looking at the rest of 2019 with something approaching excitement, mixed with a huge dose of apprehension. I and my team have a lot to achieve but life is in a good spot (save for the results of the Australian election that have just come in - sigh). 

In addition, Stu and I became Australian citizens this year and we have various family members planning visits we can look forward to - 2020 is already filling up with exciting things and I feel intellectually stretched and incredibly proud of where I am in my career - and I have to give a shout out to my wonderful other half for being the most supportive spouse (and excellent Dog Dad) and enabling me to do the long hours, the trips away and generally being too tired to do much at home at the moment. It will settle soon, I am sure, but I feel pretty lucky to have the support I need at home while things are intense.

I will try and blog here more than I have been of late, because it helps with the anxiety and the stress. It seems the trick is to carve time out when I am alone, but there are just so many things to think about that it's tough to prioritise this.

This week I am at THETA conference in Wollongong for Monday-Weds and in the next hour, on a Sunday afternoon, I will head out and stroll down the seafront to register and attend the opening reception. The nice thing is, because it's not a week day, I can fully engage with events without checking for emails every 5 minutes. I intend to breathe deeply along that promenade and remind myself that it's ok to just be me today and enjoy these interactions that I get to have with similarly minded people. 

Until next time....