Four-Eyes

I develop software and one extremely useful set up is that of dual monitors. This allows me to see my code on one screen and the user interface on the other. However, of late I've observed that this is creeping into other areas of my life and even society in general.

No longer is one thing/view sufficient. When my wife and I watch TV invariably we will both also be on our mobiles or iPad at the same time. Similarly it seems seldom is there a conversation down the pub without one or more participants having a mobile in hand and a thumb beavering away.

With the arrival of Google Project Glass and the likes I can't help but think back to a saying along the lines of "a wealth of information creates a deficit of attention". Why is what we have never enough? Why must we always seek to cram more in? What happened to "less is more"? How can we appreciate the finer details of life if we choose to use a wide-angle/panoramic lens all of the time?

A Year in Provence ... Part I

... or at least a week in Poitou Charante but it's still time in France right? What a breathe of fresh air, quite literally, a family holiday in a rural gîte. 'Rustic' was initially the word of the week as it seemed to cover all manner of accommodation short comings but strangely as the week went on they seemed less relevant and our initial gripes were perhaps just residue of our normal life and expectations.

Like many, I long to escape the rat race and have often said that if I could live anywhere in Europe it would be about half way down France. From there you are but a days drive from Spain, Italy, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Czech Republic, and the UK to name a few which makes it a perfect hub. A hub from which you readily gain access to beaches, lakes, rivers, snow capped mountains, or whatever other landscape takes your fancy. Furthermore, you can pick your climate. Further north for more 'English' weather, further south for more Mediterranean weather.

Waking up, an alfresco coffee and pain au chocolat for breakfast in the early morning sun and no further motivation was required for a run in the glorious and spectacular fields of sunflowers and vines. Admittedly I got a few strange looks from the local farmers (the French don't do exercise as a rule) but this did not deter me.

Upon my return a quick shower then into the swimming pool with the family for more 'exercise' under the guise of play. In fact I have come back browner, slimmer, and fitter. A break for a lunch of a baguette, fromage and jambon whilst escaping the too hot midday sun then a spot of sunbathing before plunging back into the pool to cool off. Come the evening and it's time to fire up the barbeque and start the drinks flowing. After managing to get the kids to settle in bed, some more drinking and socialising with guests from the neighbouring gîtes, and even a bit of impromptu ukulele! 

Finally, rounding the evening off lying on a blanket gazing at the truly magnificent night sky. The rural location being free from light 'pollution' the view was like someone had suddenly upgraded my usual night sky to HD, my eyes now free to see the milky way, satellites, shooting stars and constellations. This soon became part of the pre-bedtime ritual.

I wanted a holiday 'unplugged' and pretty much achieved this bar the quick email check and using an mp3 player for some tunes while chatting or catching up with some reading. The kids scraped through without iPads, pc's, DS's, or tv and thankfully since returning haven't demanded them back into their lives yet either. In fact before the holiday I couldn't get them out of the house, tonight I struggled to get them back in.

Simple pleasures indeed and I guess that's all I really desire. The French have always somehow managed to retain the appreciation of simple pleasures like food, wine, song and socialising. I liked the idea of living in France before, and I like the idea even more now.

The last word

It has to be said, some of the best conversations and some of the best ideas are the ones at the end of an evening on the drink. lol

Billy Nomates

Fed up with living in my box, an unsuccessful day at work, and my unsuccessful attempt to convince my wife by text that I was Mr Grey,  I needed to get out of the house last night. I'd told myself earlier in the day that I would go for a run. Middle age spread has been setting in a bit of late as my metabolism, that had once allowed me to scoff at dieters and exercisers, seemed to have gone into early retirement (probably about the only part of me that will ever experience early retirement) and was now just leaving an advertising hoarding for Pirelli. 


The weather was having one of it's 'special' days. It was twenty degrees, the sun was shining, the rain torrential, and the hail stones were the size of M&M's. Yes, it's British summertime at it's finest. Given all that, my motivation to run was on par with wanting to take a shower in Auschwitz. I was feeling less than inspired and started to toy with a question that has existed since time began. Exercise or pint?

There was a definite lean towards pint and I had pretty much concluded that this was the decisive action to be taken. Prepped to leave it suddenly dawned on me. It was quiz night. Bollocks! This meant the pub would be packed with over enthusiastic semi-retired/professional quiz teams who arrive early for their weekly pre-quiz treat of a meal leaving not a spare seat in the house. Furthermore once the quiz started the pub would be echoing with the voice of the quiz master booming over the tannoy. This is of course made worse by the fact the quiz master, a lad far too young to be having such a task in his social diary, falls under the spell of the microphone and starts thinking he's funny. He's not.

With this mind I sadly and slowly start to dig out my running gear and haul my ass and beer gut out of the door. Fortunately, the rain has now stopped and I start my runny, joggy, walky thing. I decide 5km will be adequate for a night I just don't want to run (which these days is most of them). It's tough and I can't quite work out whether I'm struggling mentally or physically, probably both. Every step of the way I just want to stop.

Whilst plodding on I wonder what happened to the me from last year, the me that ran 10km three times a week in under 45 minutes and that was on the days I wasn't doing weights. Yep, there was a big step between 40 and 41. I keep going knowing that if I stop I won't get started again and that having now run half the distance walking back in the rapidly cooling air was equally unattractive. Eventually I get home.

"Good run?", my wife asks.
"No!", I reply trudging up the stairs to the shower.

Standing in the shower I conclude that quiz night or not I've earned a pint. An earlier Facebook post fishing for pub company had failed and so I wandered up there on my own. On arrival I was pleased to see one bar stool left and stuck myself on it. The barmaid tried her best to be social but it was quiz night and she was busy.

So there I sat, Billy Nomates, at the bar supping at my glass. Of course I needed something to do other than gaze into mid air do I pulled out my mobile, logged on to the free wi-fi and browsed to BBC News. There you have it, I was a modern interpretation of the old guy sat in the pub reading the newspaper and you know what, it wasn't so bad. Head tucked down reading my phone everyone just left me to it and it was in many ways quite meditative. My own little bubble, mentally answering the quiz questions (which is always easier when you're not actually playing), reading the news, and supping my pint. I realise now that when you see these old men sat on their own in the pub, maybe they came there to be alone, together.

Onward Christian soldiers

My wife, like many others, has fallen for the "mommy porn" 50 Shades of Grey trilogy and like many husbands and boyfriends there have been positive side effects. For example, on her first night of reading I had been down the pub with friends. Now under normal circumstances when I creep in from the pub late, with all of the subtleness of a hippopotamus ninja,s he would always be asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep, but no not that night ;o)

But here we are once again with a sense of frustration. One friend was moaning on Facebook how despite his wife reading 50 shades he was yet to reap him any rewards. One female friend responded to the thread that "if you want your wife to act a bit more like Ana, try acting a bit more like Mr Grey". 

Now, despite already benefiting from positive side effects, this sounded like good advice coming straight from the horses mouth. So with this idea in mind I send my wife a text, nothing brash (Mr Grey is too sophisticated for that). Far from a hot lustful reply the response I get was along the lines of  "Lol, so anyway ...".

There you go, dismissed in an instant. It's all very well you ladies rattling on about what you want from us men but first you're going to have to learn to recognise it when your presented with it!

A Life Less Ordinary

So now that my nemesis (time that is, not some baddie wearing pants over his trousers and a mask) has revealed itself to me, how to do battle with this foe?

Most of my thirties had been about being sensible (by my reckoning at least), starting a family, buying a house, starting a business, stopping man sports like crashing motorcycles at race tracks and aspiring to be Bruce Lee, etc. However, as I approached my forties, okay I guess there were some warning signs, I started to desire something else. Not different or instead of, but as well as. Sensible is nice, safe, secure, necessary but I felt an innate desire for what can best be described as 'a life less ordinary'. Okay so nothing ground breaking there, family man hits forty and wants more from life.

I've never been one to seek fame, fortune or wealth beyond my wildest dreams, not that I'm saying no if you're offering. I whole-heartedly believe life is about experiences, and the best are those involving or shared with other people. In my twenties I travelled Europe in a 1972 VW camper. It was great, I just followed my nose until the money ran out some months later. If I liked where I was I stayed a while, other days I'd wake up take out the map and just head some where new.

I travelled through Belgium, Holland, Germany, Czech Republic, Austria, Italy, France, Spain, Portugal and Gibraltar. Not knowing where to start I just hit all of the traditional tourist traps staying in recommended camp sites and following guide books. It was so text book that it wasn't at all uncommon to see other VW campers time and again all touring Europe like sheep and this isn't unique to travelling. I've seen many people go through life like it's a school project and they're just ticking off the boxes of things they believe, or society leads them to believe, they should do. Often without understanding the motive or consequence.

I used to have a friend just like this. It were as though life were a race to him and he was trying to get through it and tick all the boxes as quickly as possible. He finished school, went through college, straight into starting his career, found a girl got married and bought a house, started a family and this was just by the time he started his twenties. I felt if he'd have grown old and died by thirty he'd have declared himself the winner. It's cliché but I believe life is a journey and the key is to make it go as slowly as possible whilst cramming as many happy experiences in as possible.

It was only towards the end of my trip around Europe as the money started getting low that I started to go off the beaten track and really feel I was travelling, living even.  Free camping in some of the most amazing scenic spots, showering on the beach in the morning before the beach crowds arrived, filling up water and grabbing cheap meals where I could. Looking back I have very little recollection of the tourist attractions but yet I have the fondest memories of the people I met along the way and the times, often brief, that we shared.

Brett the amazing Kiwi I spent many a drunken evening with at the running the bulls in Pamplona, hitch hiking with a bunch of South Africans, being bought beers by a Guardia Civil in a shady bar before he took us to a great free camping spot. Hanging out with a bunch of surfers in Lagos. The local people at the various stop off's who were just so friendly. Just a few of the many many highlights when I look back. Perhaps the biggest irony is that it costs me more to sit in the rat race ticking over than it did to travel and have one of the best times of my life.

But we make choices in life, not bad but they have consequences or trade off's if you prefer. Some use the word sacrifice and refer to it as giving things up, but when you sacrifice you give something up for something better. Let's face it, nobody would make a sacrifice if they didn't think for one moment that they would be better off for it.

I love my family dearly and would not change my choices for the world but with the clock ticking, it presents a challenge. How can I live a life less ordinary without sacrificing or diminishing what I have? Please don't think this selfish either as, perhaps more importantly, I want to show my children how to live a life less ordinary so they can learn how to get the best from their lives as they get older. I wonder how many people are in the rat race just because that's what their parents did and they knew no different?