Gout returns

Got to love those Genes!

Day two of bed rest and getting through the reading list! 



Church cove Cornwall

Another day, another sign?  I felt very spiritual here. Thoughts welcome.


It takes a Leap of Faith to get things going…

After nearly 4 months of Unemployment and a fair few knock backs at interviews, I occasionally find myself at a bit of a low ebb. Last night was one such time. “Raised a Catholic always guilty” I remember a cousin saying to me once in Ireland. Although I have not practised since I was 15 when I could no longer make sense of the hypocrisy of the Church, I have always felt indelibly touched by it through my upbringing and feel increasingly drawn to it as I get older.
I have always held a spiritual belief, in nature and that it must have been created by something. I hold this to be true through common sense and rationalisation.  However, I find myself drawn to the idea of Jesus frequently. I fully accept the historical Jesus Christ, but am not sure about the Jesus of the Bible. Clearly this is a leap of faith, but one I am struggling to make.
With this in mind, I challenged God to give me a sign I should make this leap, and what would it look like. I am not sure what I expected, a bolt of lightning maybe, perhaps a burning bush or a swarm of locusts? 
What did happened is I heard these songs in this order whilst my I Pod was on shuffle:
My city of ruins – Bruce Springsteen

Every grain of sand – Emmy Lou Harris

People Get Ready – Curtis Mayfield

Jesus was an only son – Bruce Springsteen

Something in the water – Carrie Underwood

Half of me is furious with myself for being so weak, seeking comfort in difficult times , opiate of the people etc. the other half feels like I’m waiting for something to happen. Was this it? Advice and thoughts welcome…Enjoy the tracks.

For Ron Kovic, on the 4th of July

Just Left Awkward, Suddenly Approaching Old

“I don’t like this,” my mother said as she set the dinner table. “It’s getting to be a bad habit.”

The rest of my family out-voted her. So my brother placed the portable black and white TV on a snack table in the corner of the kitchen.

It was fall, 1967, and I was a senior in high school. Between bites of dinner and sips of milk, my family watched the news unfolding from Vietnam. As a student who thought history was her best subject, I was interested in the logistics of it all, the politics. My ability to watch young men being ripped apart on a 16-inch screen and then say things like, “Please pass the potatoes,” evidently didn’t bother me.

Then Ron Kovic got shot.

Ron Kovic grew up one block over and two blocks up from our house. He and his friends were a staple of my…

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Just like Dylan’s Mr Jones

Interview Thursday, job offer Friday – I can’t express the relief I felt. I took the call on the train to London with a pal as we were off to see The Who, Paul Weller, Kaiser Chiefs and Johnny Marr at Hyde Park. What a joy, a great day of music ( and a few beers if I’m entirely honest!), crappy food after said beers and an uncomfortable night sleep in a mistakenly booked double bed ( my friend hogged the bed and broke wind repeatedly in a Beer soaked, kebab induced snore fest).
Still, I had shared the good news with family who promptly congratulated me, told the neighbours who had been concerned about the amount of time I was spending at home.

All was good, I returned from London with a bit of a swagger, Rock and Roll and an end to unemployment.
Monday came, no call.

Tuesday, they must be re cutting areas to get me in.

Wednesday, start to feel dread.

Thursday – The call – “We offered you the job as we were making an acquisition, we no longer are. We’ll keep your details and be in touch if anything changes.”

This is different to a standard rejection. It is an acceptance followed by a change in circumstance, and four months in, it hurts.

Knocknarae, Or Thoughts on Time and the Irish Sisyphus (A Hitchhiker’s Guide)

Aidan Ryan

IMG_2307 Knocknarae as seen from Sligo.

“UP THE MOUNTAIN ye were?” the woman said to me.  I tried to look at her from the passenger seat, though my glasses were bedazzled with raindrops.

“Picked a day for it, too,” I said, and she laughed, and clicked her tongue.  She was in her mid-seventies, wearing a corded cream wool sweater and speaking to me in that rough thicket of an Irish country accent that I encountered anytime I left the main towns and met a sexa- or septuagenarian.  “My name is Aidan Ryan, by the way,” I said – appropriate, it seemed, now that I’d been soaking her upholstery for a few minutes.  “Oh, not many Ryans here,” she said.  And that was all I got out of her.  I never learned my driver’s name.

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There’s a place

Before  you tell me, I know how lucky I am. Another interview tomorrow in Camarthen brings me back to the Gower for a few hours at Rhossili before some prep and an early night.

I am not sure it is a job that I really want but I am starting to go a little stir crazy and struggle a little with self confidence, worth etc. It is a bad sign that the main driver for accepting the interview was the fact I knew it would bring me to the Gower. I shall give it my best shot!

I know deep down that something will happen job wise eventually, rejection when repeated is however a bit of a bitter pill.  I am quite happy to take a step backwards career wise if need be but the timing is important, I’ll give it another month or so before I start applying for roles heading backward. Besides, we are off to Cornwall at the end of July for a family week, can’t wait! As they all get on with their busy lives now and I am not working, I can see how frustrated they must have been when my head was forever at work. Lesson learnt for next time, must switch off and enjoy…

 “In my mind there’s no sorrow…”