Softly Softly

I share an office with five other people, three of whom are men. I also have lots of other colleagues who visit our office most of whom are men. Why must the men in my office talk so loudly? Maybe it's something to do with the need to sound important. The louder we speak, the more important we are. Women are less guilty of this than men. And my colleague Tom is completely innocent of this.

People should be aware that I am more likely to be annoyed by loud mouthed people than softly spoken ones. And consequently am less likely to want to listen to them.

There's just not enough soft-spoken people in my world.

Unethical Dentistry

I've just come back from the dentist. Another filling to come. This pisses me off, and I told him so. I pay £23 every six months to see him, I also pay £30 for a dental hygenists appointment at the same time. Under their advice I am the owner of an electric toothbrush, and I take good care of my gums and my plate. And Yet... Everytime I see him I have to make another appointment to have a filling. Everytime. I've seen him four times and I have four new fillings. As I said, everytime. I don't trust him anymore. I did forget my appointment earlier in the week (it was rearranged without drama ahead of time) but I think he decided to make me pay for my amnesia. Also his suction machine is broken and I think he is looking for patients to fund a new one.

There should be standards. I'm thinking of changing dentists.

Vulnerability

I have no problem with expressing some of my most intimate thoughts in this medium. Well maybe, I had no problem with that. I am happy in wearing my heart on my sleeve. About the only question I have had is what responses the readers of this have. But seeing as I have no idea who reads this, I have decided to go with the risk and publish what I feel. And if anybody is reading this, then they can respond in their own way. But I understand that there are different approaches to this. nna has some thoughts on this. Hence the past tense above. And I have to admit they require processing. Thoughts on the back of an envelope please.

But to demonstrate my openess to the world, this little puppy needs a whizz. That might have something to do with the previous blog...

I might have been drunk when I wrote this

Once upon a time I wrote an essay for an English paper. Part way through printing it my printer failed and I was forced to write the bulk of it in pen. After railing against the printer I wrote out the rest of the essay, which prompted the marker to write at the bottom "You must have been drunk when you wrote this, Mr Body". This remains my favourite piece of feedback about anything, ever.

I was sober at the time

However I might have been just a little bit tipsy when I wrote this. I certainly feel that way. It's the last hot day of the summer, I have spent the best part of the day teaching a (rather lovely, it has to be said) Australian (and that's not an oxymoron) how to use the software that my company panders and then rest of the lovely day driving back from Shrewsbury where the aforementioned Australian works. As a reward for spending the day working I have consumed two large cans of Red Stripe Jamaican lager in quick succession. What problem??

It is good to be back in Oxford, but it was even better to spend time in Edinburgh. Not that I am sad to be home, but on the way to Shrewsbury I went to Edinburgh. Those of you with any knowledge of UK geography are now screaming "what the hell?", but I did also have to go to Glasgow.

I used to live in Edinburgh. I chose to live there because my friends Craig and Sarah lived there. And I wanted to see them again. They have now gone home. Splitters! When I arrived in Edinburgh they had been there about six months and already made friends with a bunch of people, who promptly became my friends. Anyways, Craig and Sarah went home about a year ago and the last time I went to Edinburgh after they had left it felt a bit weird as they had gone, and it felt like Edinburgh held little for me anymore. Last weekend was the first time I had visited Edinburgh since then. What a fool! I should have gone back a lot earlier. I was only there for twenty-four hours, but in that time I had the joy of catching up with three (ohmygod, how high?) quality individuals, by the name of Wendy, Ruth and Rebekah, and meeting another lovely Australian (see my earlier comment about oxymorons). I was reminded about the value of those around me, and the warmth of feeling I felt and dispensed was altogether overwhelming. It's funny, but as much and as desperately as I miss them, it has left me with the rather soothing feeling of knowing just how is out there, and it makes my world a much better place. To have people you love and who love you in New Zealand, Oxford, Edinburgh, London, Dallas... what more could one ask for?

But then, I might have been drunk when I wrote this...

A Warm Glow

It's over. The Wallingford second eleven will finish 5th in division nine. Last year we finished 16th. Today we put Princes Risborough to the sword, as we whacked 239, and then bowled them out 105. They were rubbish, we were very good.

To round off the evening I had the pleasure of watching the bulk of the club get themselves completely trolleyed, smashed, mashed, mothered, and just plain pissed. It's an interesting occupation being the sole sober person in the room. Next time round, someone else can drive home.

Still, I don't mind. I have the warm glow of smug satisfaction for a job well done.

A song about poo by some kittens

I know I should have grown up by now, but I do like cats and I do like poo jokes. Turn the sound up when you click here

Friends

I have just had the priviledge of having dinner with Mark Pierson. Mark is my friend from Auckland/Melbourne and used to be my pastor at Cityside Baptist Church in Auckland. He is in Oxford to give a course on Alternative Worship. Mark is a Great Guy. He also came along to a hOME meeting with me. It was under the guise of checking out my friends for my parents and to make sure I hadn't joined a cult. So we didn't do any chicken slaying rituals that night.

It is good to have ones friends about. It's a tricky thing living on the Other Side of the World from where one comes from. I worry that I don't have enough contact with my friends and family back home. But I am in that catch 22 situation in that if I go home, I will miss my friends here, so it's nice when they come to you.

(I will go home for a visit if someone's got money for my airfare!!)

The End of A Season

What do you people do on Saturdays?

From next weekend I get my Saturdays Back. Tomorrow is the last day of the Cricket Season. I remember thinking back in April that every Saturday between then and September is now spoken for. Eighteen Saturdays later I am now to be released. Funny that I should think that I am getting my Saturdays back, when really playing cricket is one of those things that makes life good. My observation has been that things become a lot more enjoyable when you can opt out of them. Does that make me lazy? There was a period in the middle of the season when I resented the fact that I had to turn out each and every Saturday, although I think that had something to do with the fact that I was not scoring runs and Wallingford was losing. However, I believe my enthusiasm has since returned. I wonder what this says about my personality. A lot of this has to do with the guys I play cricket with. I love the way they play cricket and I love the fact that they do it for the love of the game. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Great guys, one and all.

The season looks like as follows: Played 17, won 8, lost 7, drew 1 and 1 was abandoned without a ball being bowled. Last year we finished 16th of 18 teams. This year we will finish no lower than 8th. The most satisfying element of those results is that we have only drawn one game. This means that we play cricket to get results . Some teams in the league have drawn as many as nine games.

I think I might spend next Saturday cleaning my room.