Love In The Time Of Cholera...

Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s magical realist masterpiece remains one of my favourite books. The story of a teenage love affair in Columbia that is reignited several decades later, it remains one of a handful of books that I go back to every several years and reread and get something new from every time.

When I was a single man I could usually gauge how long any new romance would last by asking if any new partner had read the book and what they thought of it. It wasn't that I was being some sort of intellectual elitist as several former lovers hadn't read the book and they were utterly lovely people, but when you discover you have the same shared literary passion as somebody new in your life then an immediate bond is formed.

When I first got together with the Missus we were discussing favourite books and when I asked her about the Marquez novel her immediate response was 'I've read it and I love it.'

One of the bits in the book we talked about way back then is towards the end of the story when the reunited lovers are travelling on a boat. They are both well into old age and they both have to deal with the practicalities of old age, such as inserting suppositories into one another and masking the smell of their urinary accidents. It sounds disgusting but it beautifully suggests that love is not just the province of the young and that there is also tenderness in caring for your lover in a very intimate way.

Some 15 years after me and the Missus got together, I fear we are now turning into the two ageing lovers from Love In The Time Of Cholera. With her chronically injured shoulder and my occasional martial arts ninja-ries we do seem to be spending lots of time nursing each other at the moment.

I fear suppositories are probably just around the corner, which would be ironic as she often says I'm a pain in the arse. You can probably make your own, better gags...

Black Belt Grading: Black Belt Presentation...

I was officially given my black belt a few weeks ago in a presentation involving the head of our academy and my teacher.

It was a fab day made even better when the Missus turned up with the Boy who came along to support me on a surprise visit from university. But I also felt slightly subdued and overwhelmed by it all.

For me learning a martial art and reaching black belt has been a journey about overcoming my own inadequacies. I'm also not a naturally gifted athlete so it's very much been a journey of perspiration rather than inspiration. I'm quite competitive, too, so it's been pretty tough seeing other people leave you in their slipstream as they pass you by and excell where you struggle.

In the days afterwards it felt like I was mourning the end of something. It felt like something had gone.

In reality, of course, learning a martial art is a continouous journey where the more you learn the less you realise you actually know and getting any new belt is only a signpost on that journey, although getting a black belt is obviously quite a significant one.

In poker it's often said that the really seasoned players have no comprehension of the actual value of the chips they're playing with. The idea of their monetary value is not important. Their chip stack is just a way of seeing where they are in the game. It's still being in the game that is the important thing.

It's an analogy I hope to now adopt with martial arts. The belt is just a symbol of where I am. The only thing that matters is ensuring I'm still in the game and sometimes playing well.

If I've learnt anything through all of this it's probably something along those lines.

Ticket Touts...

My delight at securing tickets to see PJ Harvey at the Royal Albert Hall is only matched by the horror of my credit card feeling like it’s been raped after booking through a major ticket agency.

I am astonished they can charge that much in additional fees.

The robbing bastards should advertise with a mask and a flintlock pistol.

Rioting Jokes...

My favourite two jokes about the riots:

Rioting in Guildford. Three caffe lattes and a three bean salad damaged.

Extensive rioting in Hull. The city centre and several buildings and major landmarks have been destroyed. Officials fear it may cost as much as £7 to repair the damage.