write.as/jonbeckett

How is it Thursday already? Where do the days go? It feels like my feet haven't touched the ground all week. Take today as an example – somehow I've filled and emptied the dishwasher, thrown three loads of clothes through the washing machine and hung them out to dry, sprayed the bedroom, stairs, and living room with flea spray (never get cats), hoovered all over, picked up after everybody, AND got on with work.

And it's only just after lunchtime.

I'm taking half an hour off from everything to write this, and listen to some music. I use my phone with a bluetooth speaker in the study that my cousin gave me. I have a free spotify subscription, and choose random playlists each day.

I only have one curated playlist of my own – that I compiled with the help of an old friend – filled with 70s, 80s and 90s classics. Whenever I listen to it I think of them now – and wonder how they are.

Anyway.

Time to go grab a glass of water. Now the weather is getting warmer, it doesn't do to stay sitting at the desk for too long – and apparently water intake is the best way to avoid my feet swelling up (it happened last year). I imagine the gallons of coffee I drink can't help either.

I'll writing again when I get a chance.

Early yesterday morning I left the house with my youngest and eldest daughters, and travelled into London for the first time in over a year. A day of wandering, exploring, and lots and lots of walking.

I had pulled off something of a masterstroke in the morning. My eldest daughter is famously terrible at getting up. She knew we were getting an early train, and almost pulled out of the entire day just at the prospect of getting up early (or rather, early for her). While she flapped, running to-and-fro around the house finding shoes, a backpack, and whatever else in the moments before leaving, I stopped her in her tracks.

“You know I said the train is at 8:30am? – it's actually at 9am”.

You should have seen the look on her face.

“Go, sit down, and calm down. I'll make a coffee”.

She begrudgingly admitted afterwards that having an extra half an hour after getting ready was a good idea.

After a quiet journey to Paddington, we arrived in central London to sunny skies, and a gentle breeze – perfect for a walk across Hyde Park. Along the way I remarked to the kids how wonderful London can be – everybody we passed seemed to be from a different country – all mixed together, all going about their day.

The day was kind of wonderful, in an unplanned kind of way. We visited Leicester Square, Covent Garden, Kensington Gardens, Shaftesbury Avenue, and Soho before descending into the underground and finding our way back.

Along the way we passed an American import candy store. I made the mistake of offering to buy something for each of my daughters. Who knew we would be in there for HALF AN HOUR. Granted, they had only heard of many of the brands in movies and TV shows – so it was probably all sorts of exciting – but really?

(it probably wasn't half an hour, but if felt like forever).

I didn't think to start the fitness app on my phone before setting out – so have no idea how far we walked during the day. It must have been in the tens of thousands of steps. Many miles. Like I said though – the weather was good – quite rare in the UK.

Anyway.

I'm supposed to be getting on with some work. Let's call this a coffee break. My feet still ache today.

It's been a strange few days.

We're surrounding our daughter with as much normal as we can muster at the moment – fashioning a bubble of ordinary to cushion her recovery after the pretty terrifying ordeal she put us all through last week.

I'm taking her to London tomorrow, accompanied by her eldest sister. We leave on the early train, and will find breakfast at Paddington station. A day of sightseeing, sushi, and sunshine. A visit to “M&M World” may be on the itinerary too.

It's difficult to watch your children find their way in the world sometimes. Difficult to stand by and watch their mistakes. Of course you are there to catch them, and lift heaven and earth to right their mistakes. You can't steer their journey too closely though – without learning loss, you learn nothing.

We wonder if loss might be at the heart of recent events. School years are finishing. Long time friends are departing. Friendship groups are already fracturing, and new bonds being forged with those that will remain – before events have unfolded.

When your friends are your world, it must be so hard to say goodbye.

I know her pain only too well. As adults we sometimes have to make decisions and live by them. It never gets easier, and we often wonder what might have been.

We are expected to be so brave. It's not easy. Not easy at all.

I'm reminded of Mrs Darling's words about Bravery in Peter Pan:

Mrs. Darling:
There are many different kinds of bravery. There's the bravery of thinking of others before one's self. Now, your father has never brandished a sword nor... nor fired a pistol, thank heavens. But he has made many sacrifices for his family, and put away many dreams.

Michael:
Where did he put them?

Mrs. Darling:
He put them in a drawer. And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them. But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer... and he does. And that is why he is brave.

When we got up yesterday morning, my other half knocked on our youngest daughter's bedroom door and poked her head in to say “wake up”. She wasn't moving under the bedcovers, so she stepped into the room and gave her a nudge. And that's when she discovered the bedclothes arranged to look like a person in the bed.

Within minutes we had started scouting around her friends, and called the police. Next we informed the school, our workplaces, and started posting on social media. Then we hit the detective trail.

It's worth noting – my youngest daughter has special needs. She has never bunked off school. She is perhaps the most compliant of the three sisters, and that's what worried us most – who had talked her into doing this, and more importantly – was she ok? Her conception of risk is markedly less accurate than most.

We found her. We also went and fetched her.

I'm not going to tell the rest of the story on a public platform, because it probably crosses all kinds of privacy lines. The important thing is we found her.

Yesterday morning we realised how well thought of our family is in the local community. Literally everybody we know offered assistance and help – dropping whatever they were doing if they could. A small army was activated in minutes – from friends in the police force, to school staff, friends, and parents of our children's friends. I spent the entire day responding to offers of help, updating people on what was going on, and then reversing everything just as quickly.

The police visited last night. Once you've started the ball rolling, it doesn't just stop. They were brilliant. They spent an hour with us – explaining the procedure, filling out paperwork, and talking at some length with our daughter. I can't thank them enough.

I joked with a friend at the end of the day that I might need a stiff drink. I've still not had it.

Invariably I try to get to a “good place” with programming before finishing for the day – yesterday that didn't happen. Something wasn't working, and it consumed me all evening. At dinner the rest of my family asked what was going on – catching me staring into space, thinking about it.

After watching Stranger Things with my eldest daughter yesterday evening I got the work laptop back out, and started digging. I solved the problem, then realised everybody else had gone to bed. It was 1am. Then I worked straight through lunchtime today. Yes, I am my own worst enemy.

Getting back to Stranger Things – Oh. My. Word. Haven't enjoyed a TV show so much in ages. After watching two episodes of season 4 back-to-back with my eldest daughter last night, we emerged into the kitchen with our thoughts racing from theory to theory about what developments in the story meant, and what might happen next. I can't remember seeing her so enthused by anything for quite some time.

I'm listening to a Stranger Things soundtrack on Spotify right now – the show is now set in “my” era – the mid to late 1980s. I will admit to smiling when I saw Kate Bush racing up the global charts – of course we didn't know until last night just why. After the scene in question I turned to my daughter, wide eyed, and whispered “is it ok to breathe now?”

Anyway.

Enough about TV. I'm wondering about going for a walk to decompress from everything. Perhaps pick up some cookies or something along the way.

The four day weekend for the Queen's jubilee is coming to an end.

We sat out on the green outside our house with a few neighbours last night and had a drink together. There are perhaps a hundred houses in the nearby area that had been invited. Six or seven made any sort of appearance. I wonder if this is the new disinterested world we live in.

While watching the really quite poor concert in London last night (a very obviously lip-synching Diana Ross was an unintentionally hilarious highlight – never mind what the hell she was doing there), I wondered how the various members of the Royal family reconcile their place in the modern world. They really do have no practical function, other than as an ornament to tourism. The press hang off their every word and action – perhaps treating them as a placebo of sorts for those that still buy tabloid newspapers. An easy story.

It's all very odd.

Like I said – back to work tomorrow. Back to yet another project I can't really tell you anything about. I foresee an evening of Stranger Things while trying valiantly to stay awake.

Has anybody seen my blogging horse? Or was it a bicycle? I never was good at idioms and analogies.

It's Saturday morning (just). The UK has been taken over by patriotic fervour as really rather too many people celebrate the stunning achievement of an entitled family to continue to live a charmed life, paid for by all of us.

I'm not quite nailing my colours to the mast in saying that – the royal family make quite a lot for the country in terms of tourism, but really – why on earth does a modern country need a hereditary monarchy?

Anyway.

While writing this my other half and youngest daughter are in town selling hand-crafted bags, pencil cases, and tea-towels as part of a “Wild” weekend of events – promoting nature, conservation, and ecology. The weather is not helping them – while it was warm and sunny yesterday, today it's cold, windy, and spitting with rain.

I feel sorry for our youngest daughter – she has spent several weeks making hand-stamped designs on the various items they are selling – and given the weather, foot traffic in the park is going to be almost non existent.

In other news, work is going well. As per usual, I can't really talk about it. Outside of work, the YouTube channel is getting bigger and bigger – like a snowball rolling down a hillside. After a few months I'll report on the earnings from it – at the moment it's making far more than I had anticipated, but I'm naturally pessimistic the longer term.

Time for a coffee, perhaps.

When my middle daughter was about four years old, she loved talking. She still loves talking. She would often know what she wanted to say, but the exact choice of words would get away from her.

Late on an evening she would ask “is it half past my bedtime?”

It's half past my bedtime now. The clock ticked past midnight some time ago. I'm sitting in the dark of the junk room (my office) tapping away at the keyboard for the first time in several days. I've thought about sitting down to write something several times, but one thing after another side-tracked me.

The term “side-tracked” must have something to do with railroads, I imagine. It's quite a good analogy really – if you think about the universe always moving forwards, no paths ever lead back. Making good decisions would therefore seem to be that much more important – and yet I don't tend to worry too much.

It's that whole “putting one foot in front of the other” thing, isn't it.

That's not to say that I don't wonder about paths not taken. Or paths that might still be taken. During quiet moments I sometimes wonder how the people I have come to know along the way are doing.

We all live busy lives. We lose touch with each other. Friendships that were once close become more distant. They are never forgotten though. In a strange sort of way, I suppose I am the product of everybody I have known – shaped by the crossing of our paths.

Anyway.

It's getting late.

Time for bed.

It's “half past my bedtime”, after all.

I began “Week 5” of the “Couch to 5K” running programme this morning – three five minute runs, with three minute walks in-between. I could really have done with an extra half hour in bed, but (thankfully) I'm pretty good at guilting myself into carrying on with the various idiot escapades I get involved in.

After getting back from the run I started clearing the kitchen around Miss 18, who was making eggy bread (french toast for the food snobs reading this). After finishing with the frying pan she threw it in the sink – which melted the washing up bowl. Genius move. When she asks about the smell of burning plastic the next time she uses the frying pan, I'll remind her.

I just cut my hair. I've been cutting it myself ever since we went into lockdown – or rather, mostly cutting it – my eldest daughter typically tidies up the back for me (it's kind of hard to see the back of your own head).

There's an old saying about idle hands and the devil's work, isn't there – which would probably apply if I believed in any of that nonsense. I always find it interesting that people “of faith” tend to frame anything they would prefer others didn't do in terms that suggest some form of supernatural retribution.

Along with countless others, I've been watching the news this week, and trying to process what's going on. I'm not going to mansplain any of it – I just wanted to express my frustration with the world in general sometimes. We never learn. The same patterns repeat, endlessly.

I went running first thing this morning – back to the “Couch to 5K” programme after a few days off after my right knee started to hurt. Fingers crossed if I just go slow at this whole running thing, my body will stop complaining.

It's funny – for years my natural jogging pace has been about six minutes per kilometre – so about thirty minutes for five kilometres. Even though the sessions at the moment are pretty much “run, walk, run, walk”, the running part of them is coming out at exactly that pace again – and with seconds difference between each run. I seem to have an unexpectedly accurate metronome inside my body.

I do need to lose weight to make it easier though – I could do with losing about twenty five pounds. I've cut out most snacks, but I need to do more. Maybe some cardio on the days I'm not running would help?

Half the reason I'm running is because sitting down all day, every day, has started to cause my ankles to swell up. Being active stops that happening. My other half forgot her lunch today, which provided an unexpected lunchtime walk across town – not very far, but something at least. I suppose running around doing chores throughout the day helps too.

Anyway.

I was just taking a break from work for a few minutes. I better get on.