wheresmywoody.com

I awoke with a deep meaningful drool and focused through dry contacts, staring out, eyes shut, with 3 orange dots running in a straight line down my central vision, with a couple of satellites to the left and down, not disimilar to the plough. Mental note to learn my constellations. I was by the pool. I’d been there for several hours in a beautiful heat, i-podded poolside with my books ditched at the bottom of the recliner. A sucker for heat, a battery recharge, slumberland..after 5 minutes or so in the same position a diminutive lasting flick of the finger listening to Ian Dury and the Blockheads’ “Clever Trevor”, and from nowhere Esther was next to me; “Yes, Mr Paul?”
“Nothing Esther, I was just finger dancing…oh err; a coke with ice, and an ashtray please”
“Have you finished with your lunch?”
“Yes thanks, it was great”
“2208?”
“2208″

That was tuesday, “National grave sweepers day” and better still a public holiday. I burnt with factor 8 trowelled on, but it was a beautiful warm burn- I wuz glowing i wuz, given the propensity of mosquitoes that ate my legs pied piper style outside the China Bear- in their droves man, and I didn’t feel a thing.

This is thursday..

When things seem so obvious, when you think you’ve cracked your research, boxed things off, reasoned and rationalised , life and subsequent events appear to turn around and hit you round the chops with a gnarled and fetid piece of emaciated turd. I’ve just had one of those moments. A quick e-mail and i’m reeling, clambering at the base of a gigantic mountain, balancing delicately suddenly at its peak . When the very fabric of belief you were holding on to, hoping that eventually nostalgic logic and memories would turn things around and stuff would work out in the long run, reality deals its hand, and whilst for the last 9 years the cards have been kind, all of a sudden I have jokers in abundance. I’m all crumpled and lost in the vortex, the whirrling pit of ones worst fears- the stark truth of my situation repetetively kicking at my groin, gout-striken, dobey itches my mind, my stomach’s partying and I have nothing to add…nowhere to go, nothing to do, nowt to hide.

Anyway, not wanting to get tied in knots, I experience that lucid sensation for several minutes, store it and move on. For I am strong.

My next chapter is upon me and so reluctantly, but with calm understanding and resilience I turn the page. And it is good.

I have a week and a half left in HK. Playing Rugby against Valley Falcons on Saturday. Confirmed. Jonny B arrives monday I think, for a week. Confirmed. Need to sort him out a pit by the window.Mental note no.2. I look forward to his company and a few nights out. He’s been on the silk road in north west China for a couple of months I believe- I may be wrong. He rattled off a number of places and I gave the impression I may have known where he was talking about. He’ll have to draw me a (them there) map (so he will). I also look forward to seeing his photos- he’s adventurous and disciplined in a manner only seasoned westerners travelling in China get when taking photos of people that are camera shy. Not a hint of awkwardness or invasion. Personally I have 5 shots of me holding the camera at myself, in various stages of insobriety…late in the darkness of the night, hidden, suspect, dancing in the shadows…and in all the time i’ve been here. Pitiful really. Mental note no.3.

I will rebuild, forge alliances, conquer again. For I am strong.

P x