write.as/jonbeckett

The sky fell this morning. Cats and dogs. Curtain rods. It fell last night too. I will admit to feeling sorry for the young children “trick or treating” for Halloween – not so sorry for the teenagers trying to blag candy based on little or no effort.

I ended up in charge of answering the door as the first wave of children arrived in the early evening. Two of my daughters prepared pumpkins and lit them – apparently the sign to those wandering past that we were “open for business”. We had a lot of candy.

My favourite visitor of the evening was a little girl – no taller than your knee – dressed as a witch, and tightly holding her big brother's hand while her Mum crouched behind her. She stumbled over her words before informing me that she was a witch. Her mum grinned at me with the biggest shrug and the toothiest smile as we said our goodbyes and she wandered off into the darkness.

Another little boy visited a few minutes later. Before the rainstorm he probably had very impressive facepoint, but half an hour later it looked more like he'd been in either a road traffic accident, or had a very heavy night involving vodka and a hedge. He stammered for quite some time while telling us exactly which character he was.

“I'm... I'm... I'm... umm... I'm... I'm... Huggy Wuggy”.

I thought no more of it until relating the story later in the evening. We looked up “Huggy Wuggy”, and couldn't quite believe our eyes. It turns out the little boy – no older than maybe five – had dressed as a character from an extremely violent adult horror video game that police have issued warnings about.

Let's try not to think about that any more.

Anyway.

Today is another day. The first of November! I always feel like there's something special about crossing from one month into another – and yet all we've really done is float a little bit further around our sun.

It's been raining on-and-off all day. Cold, windy, and grey. In between work I've been washing clothes, tidying up, and doing all the other chores that seem to fall upon me these days. I just realised while writing this that I haven't even looked at my phone all day – I have no idea if anybody has tried to message me (glances at email, and sees a screenfull of unready emails). Oh dear. Do you ever have days when you feel like you're swimming against the tide? I seem to have had several months of that.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with the kettle and the jar of coffee. We're good friends.

Oh – before I go – given that the world seems to be up-in-arms about certain billionaires buying their social media footprint from under them, I'm tinkering with jonbeckett.blog once again. Feel free to visit. Let's call it an insurance policy. It struck over the last few days that while everybody seems to be recoiling in horror at Elon buying Twitter, very few people have actually left.

While tinkering with this and that this morning, I stumbled upon the blog of an old friend. Somebody I really shouldn't have lost touch with, but somehow had. One click led to another, and before I knew it I had spent the better part of an hour reading about her recent days, weeks, and months. Something occurred to me while reading.

She writes the way I used to write. The way I would like to write.

Somehow life has conspired to reduce the occaisional posts I publish to a few mundane words about the most meaningless of events. I rarely share what I think or what I feel any more.

I need to remember who I used to be – what I used to be. I need to become that person again. Reading her blog this morning was a wake-up call. A good wake-up call. A reminder of what a blog can be, and what it might be once again if only I start being a little bit brave, and sharing a little bit more.

I struggled to get up today – but why did I struggle. What am I worried about? What am I avoiding? In my experience the most unlikely friendships are forged in the gaps – when we realise that somebody else, somewhere else is not so different than us – that they have the same thoughts, the same ideas, the same worries, and same fears. The same things might make us laugh, cry, and angry – but we won't know unless we share some of them.

So I guess that's what I'm going to try and do. Remember who I used to be, how open and idealistic I used to be, and try to wear that person's shoes once again.

I wrote her an email – the blogger – and wondered out loud how we managed to drift so far apart. While writing the email I remembered a blog post I wrote many years ago – wondering if we're all like boats – floating along – and sometimes we pass other boats and travel along together for a while. Maybe we don't have to float away. Maybe we don't have to be so far away, when the internet can so swiftly bring us back together.

I spoke to a friend on the internet this morning – the first contact with anybody outside my family for a couple of weeks, and we both found ourselves wondering where each day goes. How is it suddenly Friday already? I suppose in a way I'm glad it's not just me that's feeling it. But still... an the universe not just slow down a BIT?

I've been head down at work all week – which makes every day very similar to the last. I get up, have a shower, make a coffee, eat a piece of toast, fire up the computer, sit in front of it, invariably eat lunch at my desk, then express surprise when it's already dark outside.

I really need to start forcing myself to take proper lunch breaks. Go for a walk. Get out of these four walls.

I'm hoping against hope that this weekend will be quiet – that I get a chance to step away from the computer, read a book, watch a movie, maybe wander to a nearby cafe for a bit. There's also the paper notebook I bought the other week – which still hasn't so much as been opened yet.

Anyway.

Enough waffling on about nothing in particular. It's nearly food o'clock.

I've been watching the “Lord of the Rings” TV series over the last couple of weeks. It says something that I'm still only about four episodes in after several weeks. I was supposed to take part in a group event last night on the internet, but didn't finish clearing up the dinner things until half an hour after it started.

I wonder if the Romans had a god of slow things?

I spoke to a friend on the internet this morning – the first contact with anybody outside my family for a couple of weeks, and we both found ourselves wondering where each day goes. How is it suddenly Friday already? I suppose in a way I'm glad it's not just me that's feeling it. But still... an the universe not just slow down a BIT?

I've been head down at work all week – which makes every day very similar to the last. I get up, have a shower, make a coffee, eat a piece of toast, fire up the computer, sit in front of it, invariably eat lunch at my desk, then express surprise when it's already dark outside.

I really need to start forcing myself to take proper lunch breaks. Go for a walk. Get out of these four walls.

I'm hoping against hope that this weekend will be quiet – that I get a chance to step away from the computer, read a book, watch a movie, maybe wander to a nearby cafe for a bit. There's also the paper notebook I bought the other week – which still hasn't so much as been opened yet.

Anyway.

Enough waffling on about nothing in particular. It's nearly food o'clock.

I've been watching the “Lord of the Rings” TV series over the last couple of weeks. It says something that I'm still only about four episodes in after several weeks. I was supposed to take part in a group event last night on the internet, but didn't finish clearing up the dinner things until half an hour after it started.

I wonder if the Romans had a god of slow things?

How has it been a week since the last time I wrote in the blog? How does this keep happening? In the past I wrote almost every day. How is that possible? What did I find to write about, and how did I find time to write?'

It's about forming habits – and I seem to have fallen out of the habit of writing. Of course whenever I worry about not having written for a while, a torrent of words results. Maybe I just need to stop worrying about it and just get on with putting one foot in front of the other.

If in doubt, always put one foot in front of the other.

A few months ago I wrote about a strange feeling of being 'in-between' everything. I couldn't put my finger on it then, and I can't now. It's a strange sort of feeling – a little lost, a little tired, a little confused – all wrapped up in a strange sort of fog.

I bought a writing pad a couple of weeks ago with ideas of sitting down and using it as a paper journal. Perhaps to clear the fog a little. I still haven't written a single thing in it. I'm still only three episodes into the Lord of the Rings TV series too. The young 'harfoot' character reminds me so much of an old friend – to the point that I lose track of the story while watching. Isn't it funny how we sometimes see elements of those we know in others?

Anyway.

I need to go help sort something out for dinner. I'll try and write again soon. I can't promise I'll have much to share, but I'll try.

You know how sometimes life continues on for months on end, without anything in particular happening? The last few years have been a bit like that. And then yesterday, all sorts of things happened one after another. Which is good, I think?

The universe started to re-arrange it's doorways at lunchtime. I walked down to a nearby caf' to escape the four walls of the house. I had only really intended to go for a walk – but something made me cross the road, and head in the direction of the cafe. I blame my feet. I remember thinking to myself 'do I really need to go to the caf'?' as I crossed a road to head in it's direction.

After eating a sandwich, and sipping a rather lovely cup of coffee for a few minutes, the owner – a friend who's children went to school with ours – stopped by my table to say hello.

'Do any of your children need a job?'

They opened the caf' two weeks ago, and have been run off their feet ever since. They just moved from a much smaller sandwich bar, and are figuring out how to do everything – and figuring out that they need more staff in a hurry.

'I'm not sure. Our eldest might be interested, but I'm not sure if she's ready for something like this – she's just started volunteering at a charity shop in town'.

He shrugged, and asked if I could ask around anyway.

Half an hour later I wandered back into the house, and caught my daughter in the kitchen making a coffee.

'What do you think about working at ?'

I expected a 'NOOOOOOOOOO' response, but that's not what I got at all. Twenty minutes later – after walking back with my daughter listening to a continuous stream of 'my hair isn't washed', and 'I look scruffy', and 'this isn't an interview, is it?', I reassured her – 'they just got through the lunchtime rush – and they look like they just got through the lunchtime rush'.

After buying a coffee, and catching the eye of the owner, a conversation was had in the kitchen. A trial, on Thursday. A few hours to see if she thought she could handle it. The girl that has hardly left the house for months walked home on air – and with the biggest smile we have seen in quite some time.

That wasn't the end of it though.

My middle daughter works in a pub in town. When she works through to closing time I wander down and walk home with her. We've never seen any idiots on the route, but still – better safe than sorry. Last night she finished her shift, and came out with a huge smile on her face.

'What's up with you?'

'You're not going to believe it.'

'What?!'

It transpired that one of the chefs in the pub walked out earlier that day. Resigned and walked – leaving them in a bit of a mess. It just so happens that my daughter – who has been learning the ropes pouring drinks, washing up, taking food orders, and so on – did cooking at college. So she took her chance.

'I could step up to do it.'

Her manager couldn't believe her luck – and went through the paperwork with her immediately. For the next several days she will be trained by the head chef and brought up to speed – then go full time doing breakfasts. Her pay will leap to almost double what she was on.

'You do realise how hard this is going to be?'

'Yes'

'Ok – so while it's brilliant, remember you don't HAVE to do this.'

Nothing I said could take the edge off her. I think she walked on air all the way home – we even called my other half, who had already gone to bed, to make sure she stayed awake until she could share the news.

So yes, anyway' If the last twenty four hours have told me anything, it's that the old maxim is right – the harder you work, the luckier you get – and sometimes the universe tips in your direction too.

A few years ago (actually quite a few years ago now) there was a popular twenty something TV drama in the UK that made stars of it's cast. It's still on now, but nothing like as popular as it once was. The actors involved were splashed across the internet, newspapers, and the various lifestyle and celebrity magazines – no doubt sold to the tabloid media by their agents to milk as much money from them as possible before they became yesterday's news.

Half the reason the programme comes to mind is because a couple of the actors from the show now live in town – you occasionally see them wandering along the street with their kids, looking just as hassled and tired as the rest of us. Because we live in a fairly quiet town just far enough from London to avoid too much of the mayhem, quite a few 'famous' actors live nearby – you sometimes see photos from their instagram accounts with familiar streets, shops, or parks in the background.

Anyway.

One of the girls in the TV show I mentioned ruffled quite a few feathers during the pandemic – she joined OnlyFans, and started selling photos of herself. At first the media couldn't believe their luck – the TV show very quickly fired her, and both she and the show became headline news. Of course the TV show then quietly re-employed her as if nothing had happened. They got their publicity, she got her publicity, and everybody was happy.

The interesting thing to me was people's reaction to her reasons for joining OnlyFans in the first place. After spending most of her career being prostituted by agents onto magazine front pages, lad-mag centrefolds, and endless fake holiday or night-out photos for celebrity lifestyle magazines, she decided enough was enough – and forceably took back control. Her body. Her rules. Her income from selling it.

So how on earth does this relate to the title of this post – 'paying it forward' ?

During the pandemic I started recording and distributing videos on YouTube pursuing what had been a personal interest of my own – aviation. Along the way I slowly picked up followers, and eventually monetised the channel. A steady stream of 'side income' started to roll in, and I had a small amount of disposable money for the first time in years. I decided to start using it for something constructive.

Knowing that a few online acquaintances have started endeavours at Youtube, Substack, Patreon, OnlyFans (cough, yes, THAT OnlyFans), and various other places, I have set about picking one every so often to support. I'm not so much supporting the content they create – I'm supporting them as people, and their contribution to moving the moral compass just a little.

I've always had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about rules, the establishment, and social norms. The whole topic of 'censorship' is loaded – and has tended to be controlled by the morally outraged few, rather than the more sensible and liberal many. I love that the internet has opened the door for so many people to be themselves, to express themselves, to connect directly with others, and to take back control.

I admire the bravery of those that have stood up during the first wave of 'citizen creators' – that have started so many conversations that led to change, acceptance, and empowerment for so many.

Anyway.

If you happen to have a side-project going on, email me. You never know – you may acquire an unexpected supporter one day.

The clock is ticking towards lunchtime, and I'm yet to really get started with any meaningful work. Most of the morning has been spent sitting in the doctor's waiting room with my youngest daughter, who has had a mysteriously swollen finger all week (Dad jokes about pointing at things too much have not gone down well).

Of course her body staged a remarkable fight-back this morning, so by the time we sat in front of a clinician her finger looked absolutely normal. I had to re-assure them that yesterday she had a proper case of 'sausage finger'.

The first doctor we saw took quite some time to manipulate the finger around – bending it, squeezing it, pulling it, and so on. He then frowned for quite some time before looking up at us.

'It might be a splinter'.

I then asked my daughter – 'Did you do wood-work at school this week?'

'Yes, on Monday'.

I looked at the ceiling. I think the doctor might have grinned.

Of course the machinations of the national health system meant we couldn't have the first doctor try to remove the splinter – his time was no doubt far too valuable for that. We returned an hour later for a wonderful nurse with purple hair to go on a search for the splinter. After a few moments frowning she summoned a colleague, and they both prodded, pulled, and pushed said finger around.

'Splinters are sneaky sometimes', she murmured.

Eventually something infinitesimally small was pulled from my daughter's finger, and the nurse sounded hopeful that the cog in the machinery had been removed. It's funny how the human body does that – how even the tiniest of foreign objects can cause tremendous pain. After working on the garden I've pulled numerous splinters from my fingers over the years. Don't even get me started about stepping on LEGO bricks.

Anyway.

It's lunchtime now. Time for something to eat (or rather, time to search the cupboard optimistically for whatever might be left, and then make a rather sad looking cheese and pickle sandwich).

Oh – while I think of it – if you're just discovering my blog after I re-glued Twitter, Medium, Tumblr, Wordpress and Substack together with Zapier, welcome. If you were after a 'slice of life' blog about nothing in particular, you found it – hopefully.

Right. This sandwich isn't going to make itself, is it.

You find me sitting in the dark at 1am again. I'm not entirely sure how this keeps happening. One minute I'm washing up the things from dinner – the next everybody else has gone to bed, and I'm here tinkering with a few different projects and losing track of time.

I worked straight through lunch again today. I'm getting worse at it. While concentrating on something I seem to have an infinite capacity to just 'keep going'. It can't be good for me. By the time I realised it was mid-afternoon. I ended up making a sandwich out of leftovers. It was a good sandwich.

Anyway. I guess this is just 'a few words', rather than none at all. I seem to be making a habit of that at the moment – writing in the cracks of everything else going on – or stealing minutes from the sandman to empty my head into the internet.

I opened the word processor at 8:35 this morning, with every intention of writing a blog post before work started. One thing after another cropped up throughout the day to make sure no writing of any sort happened. Before I knew it, I was up to my ears in source code, meetings, and an endless stream of email.

I really need to take a step back. To slow down.

A good friend messaged me yesterday – that had not heard anything from me for some months – asking if we were still good – if they had done something wrong. I felt awful. While I'm busy tinkering with this and that, I often become consumed with whatever I'm doing, and submerge myself into it – often at the exclusion of anything and everything else. You must have noticed the blog posts becoming less frequent, right? Same reason.

Like I said – I need to take a step back. I need to reach out to those I know, and those I care about – and reassure them that they're not forgotten – that we're good – that I just got... distracted. For months.

An old work colleague emailed me yesterday, and sent some scanned photos of a party that happened many years ago – of myself and the girl I used to share an office with. I had forgotten how striking she was. It's funny – when you know somebody well, you stop seeing them as others do – you see straight past how pretty they might be, and see the person that makes you smile – the person that's shared worries with you – that you've partnered with on so many escapades.

There is a point to this interlude, honest.

The girl in the photos used to roll her eyes at my submergent behaviour (is that a real word?) – and often commented that I disappeared in plain sight when something interested me. I could shut off everybody in a noisy room and focus on whatever I was doing – it drove some people nuts. I always likened it to having music on in the background – when you're concentrating you just kind of tune it out. I tune the world out.

Anyway.

Perhaps I need to start tuning the world back in from time to time.