Proud Dad...

“Alexa, please show me a picture that makes me massively proud and happy…”

“No problem. Here’s a picture of the first volume of your son’s Viking Western graphic novel series, Sagas of the Shield Maiden, in Gosh, your favourite comic shop in London.”

“Thank you, Alexa.”

54 Not Out: Part II...

It was my birthday recently and the Missus excelled herself on the present front. 

Among a superb booze selection and several other ace gifts was a wall display for my BJJ medals. I've always been a bit ambivalent about winning trophies and medals, particularly as my BJJ haul is mainly silvers and bronzes. 

As my coach reminds me, however, I turned up and fought for these. I wasn't given them. It's OK to be a bit proud of them. So I'll now hang them up in a discreet bit of my office. 

It was a sweet and considered gift. She knows me very well. 

54 Not Out: Part I...

Being 53 was pretty cool. OK, it was a year where I accepted far too much freelance work and did virtually none of my own scriptwriting, and one where I spent far too much time over-delivering at work. But there were better bits...

The holiday to Sicily with the Missus, the Boy and the Boy's Other Half was fabulous. Pottering around with the Missus, and seeing family and friends was also a joy. Training was a constant source of exhausting happiness, too.

But 54 needs to be a more disciplined year. So I'm heading into diary and scheduling overdrive. I have a new job to secure, new plays to write and BJJ events to win, and the only way I'll get it all done is if I am more ruthless with myself. 

I'll report back on how it went in 12 months. Wish me luck...

Them's the Breaks...

Wow! It's April already. Where did the time go? Well, most of it went on work and training. And being a domestic goddess. 

The latter is nothing new. One of the plus points of having a low-level tidiness and things-in-straight-lines mania is that Brooks Towers is generally pretty neat. The Missus, however, fell over and broke her wrist in spectacular fashion a few months ago, and she needed a plate and screws inserted to knit her bones back together. So I've basically been domestic staff for a few months. 

I'm obviously not complaining about this. Needs must and all that. But it's made me realise that either we don't need a house this big or I must get a better-paid job so we can hire a cleaner. 

With people and cats dying, work being pretty grim and the Missus injured, 2023 is so far not living up to expectations. Things seem to be settling down now, though. I hope we have a bit of routine normal for a while.