Weird isn't it, how you can't wait till you get somewhere 
and once you're there, you can't wait till you leave. My life is weird at the moment because I am not comfortable anywhere. I once spent two hours in Dubai airport waiting to change planes. It was 25 years ago and I was shocked to see soldiers with guns - waiting for something to happen - expecting it to.. menace was in the air.
There was an unhappy moment where I squatted down at the top of an escalator to see if what was at the bottom was worth the ride. Escalator-peering must be an espionage technique for I caused a bit of a furore. I wonder now whether they were ready to spring into action lest I decommissioned it by piddling on it, thereby inducing an amber alert electrical mishap with a side order of duty free inconvenience, but if not that then I am clueless. If any agents out there know what havoc I might have wreaked in a halterneck , feel free to get in touch as it has been an irritating ponderance my whole adult life.
Anyway, that's where I feel I am..Dubai airport. I am in a slightly menacing holding bay. I am also in my childhood home, which normally induces a mixture of alcoholism and indefatigable fatigue along with bouts of shopping. I had never realised before I wrote it that both sides of my bipolarity can be in play simultaneously. The last time I was here (not long ago) I noticed that the heady mixture of being in the warm bosom of my (male) childhood friends whilst drinking alcohol,
set off a manic phase that I heroically struggled to control for 2 weeks afterwards as well as the inevitable depression for 3 weeks after that. It must have always been thus. So, when I saw them this time, I limited my beer intake, drank lots of water and reminded myself that nothing new will happen unless I do something new.
I feel OK, I feel quite good and I'm not tired. I truly believe that I deserve more than my usual merry-go-round. Will this realisation alone, limit some of my phases? I frikkin' hope so.
Sadly, I came home for a funeral. I seem to be at that age when the older generation are thinning out and we have to step up to take their place. In the ghosts of that crematorium, I was flanked on all sides by friends with greying beards . Where I used to be able to balance my drink on the calm of their abdomens, now middle aged spread fights with waistbands but I felt supported and loved and sad . We have staggered through this life's journey together so far and
it hasn't been an easy one for any of us. It isn't an easy place to begin a journey. But regardless of years and distance, we have made this friendship work- them and me. They visit1 at a time or together; with or without families in tow and I 'come home' to a place that never was home, even when I knew nothing else.
They love to see the grey in my hair emerging, they treasure every change. I treasure them. There's something wonderful in growing old together but I knew then, in that crematorium, that the chances of us being uninterrupted by fate were shrinking.The inevitable would be knocking on our door shortly with it's tales of percentages and one day at a time-ness. But for now, we all stand together for our friend who has lost her dad but not her mates, not yet by any means.
and once you're there, you can't wait till you leave. My life is weird at the moment because I am not comfortable anywhere. I once spent two hours in Dubai airport waiting to change planes. It was 25 years ago and I was shocked to see soldiers with guns - waiting for something to happen - expecting it to.. menace was in the air.There was an unhappy moment where I squatted down at the top of an escalator to see if what was at the bottom was worth the ride. Escalator-peering must be an espionage technique for I caused a bit of a furore. I wonder now whether they were ready to spring into action lest I decommissioned it by piddling on it, thereby inducing an amber alert electrical mishap with a side order of duty free inconvenience, but if not that then I am clueless. If any agents out there know what havoc I might have wreaked in a halterneck , feel free to get in touch as it has been an irritating ponderance my whole adult life.
Anyway, that's where I feel I am..Dubai airport. I am in a slightly menacing holding bay. I am also in my childhood home, which normally induces a mixture of alcoholism and indefatigable fatigue along with bouts of shopping. I had never realised before I wrote it that both sides of my bipolarity can be in play simultaneously. The last time I was here (not long ago) I noticed that the heady mixture of being in the warm bosom of my (male) childhood friends whilst drinking alcohol,
set off a manic phase that I heroically struggled to control for 2 weeks afterwards as well as the inevitable depression for 3 weeks after that. It must have always been thus. So, when I saw them this time, I limited my beer intake, drank lots of water and reminded myself that nothing new will happen unless I do something new. I feel OK, I feel quite good and I'm not tired. I truly believe that I deserve more than my usual merry-go-round. Will this realisation alone, limit some of my phases? I frikkin' hope so.Sadly, I came home for a funeral. I seem to be at that age when the older generation are thinning out and we have to step up to take their place. In the ghosts of that crematorium, I was flanked on all sides by friends with greying beards . Where I used to be able to balance my drink on the calm of their abdomens, now middle aged spread fights with waistbands but I felt supported and loved and sad . We have staggered through this life's journey together so far and
it hasn't been an easy one for any of us. It isn't an easy place to begin a journey. But regardless of years and distance, we have made this friendship work- them and me. They visit1 at a time or together; with or without families in tow and I 'come home' to a place that never was home, even when I knew nothing else.They love to see the grey in my hair emerging, they treasure every change. I treasure them. There's something wonderful in growing old together but I knew then, in that crematorium, that the chances of us being uninterrupted by fate were shrinking.The inevitable would be knocking on our door shortly with it's tales of percentages and one day at a time-ness. But for now, we all stand together for our friend who has lost her dad but not her mates, not yet by any means.
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