So long, SAAB

Last week after owning the beast for eight and a half years, I sold the SAAB. Both Moonface and I were sorry to see it go, but we were just not using it enough to justify keeping it.
It was the best, fastest, most comfortable car that I have owned, with all the comforts that one could wish for, with the possible exception of aircon.

Heated leather seats, CD autochanger, sunroof, etc etc. Plus a 2.3 liter turbocharged engine that just seemed to keep going. It was a wonderful car, which we ran for many, many miles. I sold her at about 169,200, which meant that I was responsible for putting around 140k onto the clock. And in all those miles over all those years, all that went wrong was a worn throttle idle screw and a fuel tank strap snapping. Really, she was faultless.

But we still have the van and the Micra; the latter is so easy around town and I'm happy letting the kids use it: whereas insuring the SAAB for their use would have been prohibitive.

Bye, SAAB. I'm sure that the Hungarian who bought her will enjoy driving as much as I did.


:)

Clover

I've written before that I'm not superstitious, but as man the pattern-matching animal I notice coincidences; the rational part of me ascribes them to just that, but the irrational part of my mind wonders if there could be something more even while knowing that just thinking so is stupid.

I've found a few four-leaf clovers in my life, most of which I have picked and lost. Why did I pick them? It's the irrational part coming out to take temporary control. A few years ago I brought a leaf carefully home, dried it and placed it between two sheets of glass in a small picture frame then lost that somewhere in the boxes and books of my office shelving.

Several days ago, while sifting through some old documents I found the clover-leaf in its frame, and put it out on display. Did it bring luck? I don't know, but since then a couple of good things have happened. Straight away, the French Wench wrote in her blog that she couldn't stand me, and asked for a complete cessation of amities. It was hurtful, but better than the sulks, and after an unpleasant couple of emails and a weekend, we have stopped communicating. Now I know where we stand. God, that's a relief. I guess it's a relief for Moonface, too.

Then, yesterday, we sold the Saab. I felt rather sorry for it recently, if one can feel sorry for an inanimate object. Well, I felt sorry precisely because it was inanimate rather than animate, in that we just weren't using the car at all. I'm not driving long distances much these days, and we have the van for going away. As a two-person family since the kids have left home, there's no justification for keeping three vehicles. So we sold the Saab, and I'm sure that it will be better for the regular use. And as we have to keep the cars on the street, it was just more congestion for the neighbours. We were pleased to get rid of it before it needed too much in the way of repairs to maintain it, and we knew that there was a good bit of spending which should have been done.

Life moves on.

:-)

Gone

I don't think that I lose friends easily. I hope that overall I'm well-liked enough and sensitive enough to avoid offence, with personal skills that keep me supplied with company when I want it.

Yes, sometimes I piss people off. I can be indiscreet and blunt. But it's rare that people I know make a point of cutting me off completely. I can think of a trio of examples, no more; one based upon a misunderstanding that I could see happening but was in no position to correct. Usually, friends fade away through a divergence, a mutual lack of interests in common as we grow older and in different directions. That I can cope with.

But in the last few months I have been dumped as a friend by someone whom I cared for, whom I liked greatly. It hurts. I don't know quite how or why it happened, but it now seems irrideemable and I know that it'll take a while for me to recover completely. I tried to keep in touch, but I guess I screwed up. Damn.

:(

The Falcon

I looked out of my high office window on a grey day, dry but overcast, with a pewtery sky shaded by clouds the colour of old lead roofs which were blown quickly across by a strong blustery wind. Usually I gaze slightly to the left, to see the gardens with their amorphous mess of trees. This day, however, I looked straight ahead to the roofs opposite, where I saw a bird alight upon a television aerial.

It wasn't obvious what it was, as I missed its flight before it perched. About the size of a thrush but with a different stance, its colours difficult to determine because of the dull light, it rocked back and forth as it struggled to keep its balance as it faced the gusting wind.

I watched as it perched there for a good ten minutes. As it stayed, other birds flew across my field of view so that I was able to compare their colours, size and shape. There was a blackbird in the garden, a couple of starlings upon another aerial and the usual odd pigeons and collared doves. No small birds, though.

And then it flew. It dropped down from the aerial, launching itself across the garden opposite, across ours and our neighbours with a rapid strong beat. A sparrowhawk, buff and umber. I looked down upon its crescent pointed wings forcing their way in acrobatic pursuit of whatever it could see. Then it disappeared from view. I treasured the moment.

*********************

The next morning, exiting briefly into our back garden, I spotted a small flock of sparrows in the ivy and a wren hopping through the witch hazel. Neither the cats nor the falcon has reduced their numbers beyond interest.


:-)

Social smoking

It's not always easy to meet new people in pubs, because each small group of drinkers tends to cluster around a table or in a corner, with little interaction between groups except at the bar. However, since the change in laws about public smoking last July, smokers are finding it easier to meet each other. Nipping outside the pub for a crafty fag, yet sheltering from the drizzle pressed against a wall or in a doorway, it's hard not to get drawn into a conversation with the other pariahs in the cold.

As a social smoker, cadging two smokes from friends over the course of an evening in the Hillgrove, it was gratifyingly easy to talk to complete strangers who subsequently would greet me as they picked their way through the crowds to reach either the bar of the toilets. I suppose it would be the easiest way in the world to start a pick-up: but of course they'd be a smoker - ech!


:-)

Alice

We went to see "Alice through the Looking Glass" at the Tobacco Factory theatre last night. For the first time in a year, we went with both children. Children? Later this week, we won't have any teenagers left, and I will be desolate. No matter.

The production was superb, with only five actors playing may parts. The scenery and set was minimal but effective, with a back-projected screen taking the part of the mirror and depth of scenery. Highlights included the scene in which Alice climbs through the mirror at the start of the play, which was so effective that the hairs on the back of my neck started to rise with the spookiness of it all. Tweedledum and Tweedledee were interesting. Usually they are thought of as typical fat boys, objects of derision or humour, but here they were played as frightening idiots, scarily unsocialised. And all the voices were good, more than good, but the Red Queen's singing was wonderful. The costumes played a big part in making this unreal world seem consistent. For the most part, they matched the Tenniel illustrations from the original books, made beautifully but grotesquely appropriate to the chess pieces and flowers which were depicted.

We should go to the theatre more often.


:-)

The Society of Wood Engravers

There's something about wood engravings: the simplicity of the concept contrasts with the complexity and detail of the finished prints. I like the purity of the black and white, the small size and personal nature of woodcuts.

We visited Bath at the weekend, to catch the last weekend of the Society of Wood Engravers exhibition. I coveted practically every small engraving, they were so beautiful. I bought Moonface a little engraving of a hare for Christmas, although I'm not sure that its artwork was quite up to the standard which we saw in Bath. However, it was from a local artist.

Travelling to Bath is almost a pleasure these days, as we can take the local train only ten minutes' walk away, then after a change at Temple Meads we can be walking there in only forty minutes. It's faster and so much easier than driving. After spending our hour or so in the Victoria Gallery we strolled around Bath, regretting the mess made of some of the centre in the '60s, browsing shoe-shops in a desultory manner, half-hoping to find something useful in the sales, and then ate a disappointing couple of sandwiches before another stroll and catching a train home. It made a good day out.


:o)

About resolutions

I determined to re-contact old friends, and I've already called Adam and agreed that we'd meet sometime in February.

However, should we not be trying to meet new people locally rather than trawling the country and beyond for those who have dispersed? Should Moonface and I start to make an effort to go to events where we talk rather than just attend? Dances where we chat in the intervals rather than noisy noisome gigs? Whichever, it's an effort.

But on the music side, I have at last picked up the saxophone after a lapse of more than two years. I appreciate having something to occupy my musical mind again. That's one resolution kept.

Young ?

I heard the epigram of the year early this morning at a party, just after midnight:

You're only young once - but it can last an very long time if you're lucky.


:o)