When Schedules Don't Matter: Between Flight Times and Body Times

Journey Times and Assumptions

Now that I think of it, these things should not be left to guesswork. The assumption I had, and the reality were different things, even when traversing time zones. How I could have missed that timing escapes me, especially for a journey I have made so many times. This time, I saw it plainly: the flight information stated 11h25, not the 10h30 I always had in my mind and when talking to people about it.

I am looking forward to a long journey watching Africa displayed before me as my kind of long-haul flight entertainment. As aeroplanes do not get given speeding tickets in the air, we did Amsterdam to Cape Town in 10h28. The scheduled duration and actual flight time rarely align, yet I still find myself calculating based on what I think I know rather than what the timetable actually says.

The More Immediate Concern

Before settling into my seat, though, there was a more pressing matter to address. Using the customer assistance service meant I was one of the first to board the aircraft, and I went to the toilets first before returning to my seat to check the journey duration. It was then that I noticed the discrepancy in flight times.

The flow is low and feels constricted. Whilst the urgency is pressing, the initiation starts late and the duration is long, much longer than usual. However, there are times when it suddenly seems to unclog with the greatest ease and relief. I have noticed this in the past couple of days, and it elevates concern.

The trouble with bladder plumbing, a consequence of prostate cancer and radiotherapy treatment, is one I cannot ignore, even if I seem to manage it well. Though on Saturday, as I walked back home, I found neither refuge nor respite, no place to flash my "Just Can't Wait " card. Consequently, I wet myself. The incontinence underwear was no match for the torrential release.

A Saving Grace

The cover of darkness and the length of my winter overcoat became my saving grace, concealing the wet patch on my bright red chinos and sparing me the shame and embarrassment. What a relief when I eventually got home.

The usual dearth of facilities for people with conditions like mine is something I navigate daily, but Saturday reminded me how fragile that management can be. We make assumptions about many things: flight times, the availability of toilets, our own bodies. Sometimes reality has other ideas.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Thought Picnic: Welcome November

A month of strain

Arriving in November with a bit of dogged insomnia, I literally spent the hours of reluctant wakefulness thinking about the month that had just passed. If I did not have a memory or a penchant for dates, seasons, and anniversaries, it probably would not have mattered.

For a long time, October was mainly a month of many celebrations, first of births of at least 10 in family and relations, then a wedding anniversary and four years ago added a death that doubled in the past week.

Not that I want to attach anything to a month, for time is more a structure for the reckoning of humanity that exists in a framework of unfathomable eternal past and future, the present being a sliding indicator on the scale of our limitless universe.

Significance in insignificance

The vastness beyond our world where the light of stars probably extinct long ago still appears to us in expanses of lightyears is just awesome. We are both significant here and almost insignificant as we attempt to chart galaxies we can only imagine exist but can’t reach limited by the knowledge and expertise we deploy in that research.

We lay our footprints in the sands of time and in the memories of how the relationships we forged are remembered for good or for bad. Yet, we only have the present with us as we progress into a future near and far with the hope that whatever becomes our stories are evidenced in having made the telling of them better. Welcome to November 2020 and the wonder it holds.

As I luxuriate in abundance

Knowing abundance is life

Every moment is suffused in abundance, my nostrils drawing in fulness into my lungs and giving life, the abundance of life and the many things that make a story of the life we live.

I wake up in the morning and breathe a prayer like an abundance to my nostrils to bring a blessing on Brian and me, our families, our friends and many more things. That grace may abound towards us, that favour shall come from men and everywhere to shield us, that mercies might be found in every place and that we are bathed in goodness.

In these tough times that have made my voice quaver in conversation with those who seek what they have heretofore not had to ask for to get it, they are unrelenting to upset my peace, but I cannot allow my composure to desert me as I find the abundance to fill the lack and meet the need.

A shepherd guards my soul

In my life, I have the knowledge that this walk through another valley of the shadow of death is on the way to new abundant green pastures and still calm waters. My soul is continually restored with the protection from anxiety and the turbulence of worry. Things will come good, and time is a process in the direction of the things that will make this pass.

I take no thought for the abundance in which I exist to enjoy the beauty of life, for it is a blessing for which thanks and praise can never be sufficient. The completeness is where love and peace abide in the company of those who matter, with my Brian first, he prospering amazingly and with all that are connected to me or can be impacted by me. I am made tough, toughened, and tougher, yet with effortless ease live in abundance. [A vision of Psalm 23]

Thought Picnic: We pursue everything, but the joy of happiness

A time for reflection

The piece below has variously been misattributed and quite more to George Carlin with a believable story that could make its provenance almost indisputable. Being one to always trust, but verify, I took a line from that quote and did a search where Snopes.com, the debunker of note on the Internet cleared the air about who really wrote these words. [Snopes.com]

Dr Bob Moorhead in his book, Words Aptly Spoken (1995), gave this treatise as The Paradox of Our Age. Nothing more can be added to this piece than the acknowledgement of the author, the attribution to the same and courtesy of the GoodReads website.

It calls for meditative reading and reflection.

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbour. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships.

These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete...

Remember, to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever. Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person might not be there again. Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

Bob Moorhead

Essential Snobbery 101: Courtesy is respect

Respectfully concerned

Sometimes, I wonder if I should have lived in my parents’ generation because some of the things I find myself within makes me feel I am not in my time.

Basically, manner, attitude and expression would have some pigeon-hole me as old-fashioned, yet many of these old-fashioned things matter a lot. At least to me.

As I step into the station every morning, the newspaper vendor sees me approaching and readies a newspaper for me. I collect the newspaper first with a greeting and then leave with gratitude. I thank him, always, just because it is the right thing to do.

I wear a hat, but would never keep my hat on when speaking to a lady, and I would most likely take it off when speaking to strangers as a sign of respect, even if it appears our apparent upbringing is quite obviously different.

Not like the banks of yore

Yet, I work in an environment where many of these vicissitudes of comportment and decorum are dispensed with as if they do not matter; this is supposed to be a bank.

Electronic mails, poorly composed without proper greetings and with bad endings, the language is coarse and lacking in any refinement, as if language is no more in need of nuance and the understated, it shocks, and it appals.

Worse still is the absence of courtesy, the courtesy of being informed, the courtesy of being engaged, and the courtesy of being respected. Nothing shows this up as much as when someone should have let you know of something that you suddenly learn of because it dropped into a chance conversation that you should have been fully involved in from the onset.

Together but separate

This could sometimes be forgiven as forgetfulness, but when it involves many more who should have known better, it is treacherous and too odious for words. It belies an utter lack of regard, and dare I say, it is disrespectful.

Something my old-fashioned parents would never have allowed to happen, but in our world of egalitarianism, equality in the workplace does not necessarily mean we all have access to the schooling and the breeding that ensures that we have the best manners in all we do.

It is at that point that you wonder if you are living in a different world or that circumstances and situations have brought you into experiences you would rather not entertain if you had more choices and options about the company you keep or the ones you find yourself unfortunate and blessed to be associated with.

Four years on ...

Times of our lives

I have a mind for dates, times and seasons, a smell can take me back decades, some music relives the past, my mind carried away to a place as if I have turned back time.

Each year, these days come and go as I wonder how things have changed from that event and today the 9^th of October takes me back to 4 years ago.

It was the end of hospital stay that I thought I might leave after four days, but ended up spending 18 days; this however, did not compare to the 4 months that the man in the next bed had spent in hospital.

Memories and thanks

Four years on, I am still recovering and rebuilding, a long journey of hope for radical change as the home and security I longed to return to has long gone and what is left is memories.

I have much to be thankful for, I have done new things, seen new places, embarked on new ventures and made new friends, I am forever grateful to friends, relations, acquaintances and strangers who have blessed me and given me succour in times of need.

The memories that will follow the next few days and months will be tough because October now harbours the births and the deaths of many loved ones. I remember too that as I was admitted to hospital, my condition was such that I was not expected to see the end of October either – I am still standing.

Life is just life

The paragraph below captures how I felt; the day I returned home, the longer story can be found here.

"Before I left, I had one last look at the bed that had been my unexpected, uninvited, sudden world of 18 days. I cried about how my freedom could so easily be taken away; how my vulnerability could be so exposed, how one could be at the mercy of strangers in a positions that demand lots of kindness, compassion and care."

Life happens; live it, enjoy it and make a story.

Thought Picnic: Hard Times

The business

A family having dinner, the banquet set before them as they expressed a unity and a togetherness rarely seen, the tradition of seating together for meals.

Then with determination and purpose, they find commonality and join in a great enterprise, one that we too easily take for granted, they are friends, loyal and true, meeting at the same time in the same place to dream.

There was an opportunity that presented itself each time that I was unable to realise, to invest in their enterprise that could make a whole world of difference to many, but for the means, too meagre to stretch.

The times

All with bags filled to the brim in front of businesses that define the city, they could be taken for you and I, but they are not, they are in sleeping bags, with no shelter and have become the sign of the times.

I can see them because I have been there, when illness struck, I lost everything but friends who ensured that I did not go without shelter, food and sustenance; it was hard.

Then we assume the system is there help such people, but the one-size-fits-all package rarely fits all, it is a net with holes so large it is surprising it holds anything. The exception these people once represented in the images we once had of the homeless has changed to become a new rule - the people are well-dressed, they are families, they are clean and all they have is there in bags and suitcases, on the street.

The rut

They all have their stories that could make a trail of misfortune to the ends of the earth – unemployment, illness, divorce, debt or just pure luck – none would have deliberately charted the course of their lives to what things have become, it is called life and people live it.

I know the decisions I could not take, choices I could not make, places I could not go, ideas I could not have, opportunities that escaped me, responsibilities I could not assume, I was stuck in a rut, and it looked like there was no end to this rampaging storm.

It is never easy, there is no stop button, but if our society must have a heart that feels and the conscience to perceive, then it is duty-bound to rethink the way hard times affects people and puts them out on the streets.

The thought

As our leaders find political capital to assail the poor defining them as lazy and scrounging, we must be careful not to be fed the wrong image of realities that are so readily oblivious to us. Much that we are quick to see but fail to observe is our preoccupation with the things that concern us taking us away from appreciating what the other is going through.

I do not know the solutions to many of these problems that tug at my heartstrings, but it is not beyond the realm of human ingenuity and the extents of our humanity to find ways to ensure that sleeping bags are mainly used on camping sites under tents for leisure – homes matter to all.

Amidst all the wealth and profligacy that surrounds us, much of which we revel in; there must be means to ensure that hard times do not hit people so hard that there seems to be no other option at all.

Thought Picnic: The Times Are Hard

A phone to make you look silly

Veering off the routine of being a hermit I wandered into the city centre to have my mobile phone sorted out. For a while, it was not connecting to Mobile Internet considering it is part of my package, but as I got to the shop, everything seemed to work fine, it left me looking rather silly.

After leaving the shop though, the connection was lost again, it took a complete shut down and restarting of the phone for the service to present any semblance of stability.

Disguises of begging hungry

That however, was not what caught my attention the most but the number of people in all sorts of costumes, fancy dress or masquerade gear looking regal, weird, scary or terrifying.

There must have been 15 of them, some even in pairs, all gesturing to tourist to pose for pictures with them for a token fee. At least 4 were dressed like the Grim Reaper complete with scythe and guttural voices to strike terror in kids and amusement in passers-by.

The competition for curious tourists willing to pose was fierce and keen, what was once an occasional novelty has now become a travesty with tourists literally being jostled, the subtext being, this a sophisticated begging, there are problems out there and it is exemplified in this rather innocuous entertainment.

The times are hard

The once generous safety-nets of social welfare are not as generous and hardly enough to meet daily needs. I would hate to think it is desperate, but the stark reality is only desperation would have driven people to clown around on main streets to eke out a living – God bless their souls.

If the competition was not stiff enough in terms of how bizarre you had to look to be attractive and attract custom, there was this singular lady with an accordion playing tunelessly but expecting a hand-out.

The one that took it to the next level of necessity being the mother of innovation was when I saw a dog posing with sunglasses – for a token amount, you could take a picture. The times are really hard.

Holiday Snaps: The message to kids about the times

A mind on the run

Wandering thoughts as the mayhem and noise around you gets blanked out for the mind to consider, contemplate, ruminate and meditate.

Between the madness of the outrageous to that goodness of the sublime pictures and scenarios are created, analysed and discarded one thought jumping to another without any sense of how they link up.

Cleaning up with English

The sign I saw, “Need? Clean you house, #”, got me thinking about how English can be so forgiving that we almost fully understand what is intended. This was no doubt a collision of Spanish and German aspiring to a global audience.

A little help from an English friend would have cleared out your house not leaving a speck of dust and the malapropisms that accompany describing a mess. “Do you need to clean your house?” or “House Cleaner Needed?” for brevity and directness, but everyone seems to have the notion of being better users of English than they really are.

Just because their command of English is better than your fluency in their language does not automatically mean their command of English is of the quality that allows for publication of good notices, it only means you can both communicate, even if barely so.

From David to everything else

Children; sons and daughters; their parents and the interactions but it never ceases to amaze me the resemblances I notice seeing that visage of the father or the eyes of the mother, evidence without the need for intrusive testing.

Michelangelo’s David is probably the most perfect specimen of how a man should look; the excess of lipid tissue or muscle just does not enhance the appreciation of that bearing.

When a child begins to take on features that prognosticate a future of obesity, there is need to worry why we do not allow kids to work themselves out a bit and keep fit for the sake that it would be good for them as much as it would be good for the parents. However, in the absence of good example the future might be bleak.

At breakfast, it was not the three musketeers but musculars if that word might be permitted, just this once. Walking with arms almost akimbo not because they have taken that pose but the gym has seen too many visits that the muscles have become a deformity. Muscle Marys, they are called and they are – Oh! Not so David, trust me.

Hard times for tough people

The times are tough, hard and difficult, more businesses have closed, bars have notices that have hung there for months and there have been no takers.

The ones that have stayed open to the high season are having brisk business, in the years since I wrote the blog about settling in Gran Canaria things have changed and people have had to adapt to the situation and circumstances.

I braved the carterista (pick-pocket in Spanish) shops for a cable and was pleasantly surprised at being offered the cable at 33% less the price tag without having even seen the price, maybe lessons have been learnt that we would go elsewhere than be fleeced.

As for the chap who has been frazzled by the warmth of Canarian sunshine that he is planning to settle here, if you can survive these times, you will definitely live here a long time.

I must spare a thought for those who gave up everything for the hard life in the sun with the hope that they will retire here and had to make the very difficult decision of closing shop, the brave and courageous fight to avoid failure in which they might have lost homes too, returning to their lands of origin hopefully plotting a return – these have been really hard times and everyone knows that.