Hey.

How’s it all going today?

Did you sleep the sleep of the innocent, dream of angels and beauty or did your brain keep you awake with recriminations and worry?

Do you ever wish you could wind back the clock to the point that you allowed your potential soul-mate to leave – or that you left them?

What would you change?

What would you say?

What about that subject at school that you skipped that would have been so useful?

Or the time that you told your boss to fuck off and diverted your career?

Or the words that you wish you could have told someone and that you’d give anything to say now?

You’re not alone.

We’ve all been there.

If only.

If.

She would.

He would.

We would.

What?

Be happy?

How would you define that ?

Anyway, you know the answer really, we can’t go back, we can’t reverse what we did or where we’ve been.

We can’t find that moment when it all…..

She’d still leave for another reason, he’d still be the seething mass of hatreds and insecurities that he was then.

This is it.

This is where we are and this is all we have.

But that just means that you have choices, you have multiple choices every day, you can choose to reach out to that old friend and say hello again.

You can send a message on a Sunday evening to a work colleague who just lost their best friend and tell them to take all the time they need, you have their back.

You can donate to charity, you can help out at a shelter, you can cut your aged neighbours’ lawn or do their shopping for them.

You can study again, this time in a subject that fascinates you, not a random item in a curriculum that you had no choice in.

You can travel.

You can adopt a dog.

Of course, if you adopt a dog, you may have to get another.

And the little bastards may just break the armour that you’ve layered over your emotions and make you care about more than just you.

And you know deep down that one day you’ll lose them.

But the choice to live with unconditional love and companionship without judgment, that’s not a bad trade-off.

It’s one that I’d make again and again..

Whatever your choices, make one today .

And then again tomorrow.

We can’t go back, but we can try to steer which way we’re going as we move forward.

 Or as Marcus Aurelius put it

 ‘Forget everything else. Keep hold of this alone and remember it: Each of us lives only now, this brief instant. The rest has been lived already, or is impossible to see. The span we live is small—small as the corner of the earth in which we live it. Small as even the greatest renown, passed from mouth to mouth by short-lived stick figures, ignorant alike of themselves and those long dead’

Hold tight for this one, I genuinely don’t know where I’m going with this post or what I expect when I finish writing.

I’ve mentioned a few times that I’m back at work for a year to help one of my best friends with her new huge (and hugely important role).

I’m not really giving anything away if I use the word Skynet, it’s one of the most important things I’ve ever worked for.

The learning curve is steep on one side, but on the other is the thing that I’m already very good at.

People.

And I’ve shed the retired version of me completely, I’m back to being all the things I need to be.

Supportive. Warm. Encouraging. Engaging. Understanding. Curious. Kind. Patient. Coldly analytical. Watchful. Scrutinising. Quietly judging. Assessing. Constantly assessing.

I’m doing two days a week onsite, leaving home at 5am so that I’m one of the first people there and spending all day in discussions and face to face meetings rather than Teams calls.

And I watch.

And I listen.

I’m making a number of changes this week, some that I haven’t telegraphed and one that will be seen exactly as it is.

A response to a challenge.

The outcome is inevitable and the new structures will work, with or without casualties, hopefully the latter.

I stay in a hotel in Bath, go out for drinks and dinner, live music and walking around.

And I bought a new, very small, very clever camera just for taking shots as I walk.

It’s been pissing it down for weeks and the streets are quiet in the gloom of the evening, with only the streetlights and traffic signals providing colour on the pavements.

The roads are packed with cars until mid-evening and it’s faster to walk unless you’re deliberately taking streets and turns at whim to see what’s next.

It’s been an interesting experience, I’m mostly looking for something pretty or eye catching as I walk, but I’m watching the shadows and streets more than I normally would so that I can take that half-second to raise and point the camera, click and shoot, then pocket it again.

I see more than I used to.

From the beauty outside the pubs to the movement and conversation of the people inside, from empty streets that open onto huge views and converted chapels that look as if they belong in a cyberpunk film.

And I’ve started to really see the huddled shapes in doorways, squeezed against the wall of a car park that faces the river, that sleep three stories underground in a doorway, their few possessions clutched tight.

They’re mostly young, under 40 or so, mostly men that I’ve seen so far and they’re all white.

So, so many.

I took a colleague to The Raven for drinks on Thursday night and shared the glorious story of Starmer being ejected.

And we went to a lovely pub /restaurant called the Salamander for food.

And I talked to him about taking the pretty photos – taking this one of a screen inside the pub while we sat there.

And we went our separate ways to our hotels.

And on the intersection, a young man was screaming for help, he wanted somebody, anybody to give him money towards a hostel, he was crying genuine tears, had no booze nearby, but did have packed sandwiches, was outwardly fit and didn’t show any real signs of substance addiction.

Although.

What the fuck do I know?

What I do know is that some well heeled tourists were dashing away from him and that he was completely alone.

And I did something out of character.

I was wearing a waterproof coat that’s just…. green.

It’s massively expensive.

So is my little camera.

And I was flush with cash.

And I felt..

Something.

I talked to him and gave him more than he said he needed for the hostel.

And he cried and cried.

And he tried to give me change.

I don’t know what he did next.

But he asked God to bless me and I felt..

Something.

And I walked back to my hotel and I couldn’t go inside for over 15 minutes.

Because I worked out what I felt.

It certainly wasn’t smugness or pride in my little gesture.

It was shame.

I was ashamed.

And still am.

Our brothers and sisters, daughters and sons are living on the streets while our government does nothing.

And I haven’t either.

I’ve started looking at ways I can help.

If I can.

We’ll see.

How was your week?

Mine could have been a lot worse, I travelled to Bath for a couple of days midweek for work and was sat in a bar on Thursday evening watching the progress of the storm that was hitting.

Bath had torrential rain that moved sideways thanks to the gale force winds but was otherwise fine.

Elsewhere and on my journey home, the snowstorm was actually as bad as the dire predictions had warned of.

I went to bed on Thursday night with a plan that diverged at the point of wake -up.

At 5am, I’d check the roads and.

Drive home and try to get back for a call with my friend / boss that couldn’t be cancelled as it was addressing a number of concerns for the wider teams.

Concerns that I’d spent all week trying to resolve.

Or.

I’d go back to bed, do the call at 9am and maybe stay another night.

It was a judgment call and I did a mental coin-flip at 5am and decided to drive home.

The roads were flooded in parts and then.

All was white.

We’d suddenly become Canada.

At times, only one lane was passable on the motorway, a services was closed due to the lorries that couldn’t get up the hill in the snow, leaving them stranded on the entrance slip.

Trees were bent down over with the weight of the snow and there was no way to say where the road began or ended on either side.

And yet.

For maybe the first time that I can remember, everybody but everybody drove as if they were adults and paying attention.

Nobody was trying to be macho or show how fast their car was.

If we were doing 30mph in a single lane, that’s what everyone did.

I got home with time to spare and the day actually went very well.

I took time to walk the doglets, two little bundles of bouncing joy and barking after two days apart and we walked for a while in the deep snow.

Saturday passed very pleasantly and ended with wine and a log fire and Sunday was planned to be much the same.

Except…

I found some dumped medical supplies for two different people on the road near the house.

And a minor miracle happened.

I went to Facebook to see if I could find anyone.

People responded immediately.

And….

Within an hour, the daughter of an older man met me to pick up his vital supplies – she even tried to give me £10, which was lovely but…

And then, an hour ago, the parents of a young boy picked his stuff up.

I don’t know what went wrong and don’t care.

And I don’t feel at all virtuous.

I’m just glad that this week; people helped each other because it’s the right thing to do.

For the thing itself.

Perfect.

So.

How was it for you?

2025 was a good one for me personally, a lot of change, but this time all triggered by me.

I resigned from a job I loved on the 2nd Jan because I could see a tidal wave of toxicity that was just beginning to build at the very top of the company and I knew that if I stayed, I’d be fighting a trench war that I’d ultimately lose.

It was the right thing to do, they managed to go deeper and darker than even I imagined they would and people are leaving in droves right now.

I wrote a silly little management book that I’m going to have to add at least one more chapter to thanks to the way that the senior leadership treated one of my people. It was genuinely the worst behaviour I’ve seen in my career to date.

The book is here. When I update it at some point, the kindle version will update itself.

I gave physical copies to all of my team and friends when I left and the leaving do was a thing of beauty.

Feral Pony Club

And I started retirement.

That actually meant working longer hours doing actual physical labour for no money and fewer breaks.

I loved it.

There’s a copse of a hundred or so trees on the eastern side of my land and I was going to tear down an old shed.

Instead, I rebuilt it, put in new floor and cladding and built a new door from scratch.

That was just the start of it, I tore things down, built new things to replace them, painted and repaired, reclad and added new electrics, sealed roofs and totally revamped an old shed / garage into a proper 10×5 metre workshop.

Every day started with a long dog-walk and the doglets loved it, the combination of summer and open fields giving them an endless playground.

I still got into London to see friends and in August, I finally did the road-trip that I’d promised myself.

I took Cairo ( Milo’s getting on a bit to spend hours and hours in a car) to Portland where we spent a couple of perfect days with some of the best people I know; to Wales to rekindle an old friendship and to Newark where we met new friends for the first time.

And what a time we had.

Walks, conversations and lots of laughter.

And Dottie.

The best thing I did this year.

A pure chance conversation that linked a series of people to give an outcome that was pure magic.

And gave me two new friends that I value very dearly.

Dottie is a tiny, beautiful Jack Russell who looks like an Alsatian but she’s around the same size as Milo.

She’s found a home where she’ll be loved for the rest of her life and she’s brought pleasure to her new family in a way that I couldn’t hope for when I brokered a conversation.

Summer rolled on beautifully and I managed to make around sixty litres of apple juice from my little orchard along with thirty or so of 10% cider.

One of my old team became a dad for the second time and I was honoured to be invited to a Nigerian naming ceremony in September where I met his family and friends and discovered a whole new world of formality, religion and fun.

And so the year went.

I became an RAF Trustee, did physical work for the parish council, opened a school fete with the mayor and made a return visit to meet the High Sheriff of Shropshire.

I did more outside work and planned a trip to Spain to see a band play their first international show at the end of November.

But. You know.

Plans.

They’re only aspirational.

One of my best friends left the company two months after me and she took a huge and incredibly interesting job.

And she needed a bit of help.

So we talked and I agreed to go back to work for a year.

And.

My aunt had a few falls a week or so before I was due to go to Spain and two weeks before I was due to start work again and I couldn’t square the circle of how I was going to fit everything in.

There’s only one answer to that .

I cancelled Spain and took Cairo on a two day trip to North Yorkshire, we stayed at an old inn on the return leg and it was as pleasant as it could be.

And then, a week later, I went back to work.

And it’s fine.

A brand new industry, but the same old problems, I have no fears for this job, it’ll be more than ok.

I rekindled another old friendship with a friend who lives just outside Bath – where I’ll be staying a lot this year.

And Bath is lovely.

Christmas wasn’t a drama and the whole thing starts again on Friday.

What about the bells?

The tradition of the “108 bells” refers to Joya no Kane (除夜の鐘), a Japanese Buddhist ritual. It’s performed on New Year’s Eve, known as Ōmisoka.

In this ceremony, large temple bells, called bonshō, are rung 108 times around midnight to symbolize the cleansing of the 108 earthly desires or worldly passions (bonnō) that afflict humans, such as greed, anger, jealousy, and ignorance

I hope they ring for us all

I’ve just woken up after a short doze on one of the sofas, Cairo is snuggled up against me and Milo has colonised most of another sofa across the room, quite a feat considering how small he really is.

It was back to work this week and I was away for four nights in Bath.

That’s not the worst thing in the world, Bath is quite lovely and the Christmas market was incredibly pretty.

I drank and ate in some nice places, including The Raven – a pub that the owner expelled Starmer from a few years ago.

The town feels safe, particularly compared to London and people are generally polite and chilled, I’ll be staying there a lot, so it’s good that I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the evenings, whether alone or with others.

There was and is a bonus in that one of my few real friends lives in Bath and I managed to catch up with him this week.

He then gave me a bottle of wine from 1982! I’m crossing my fingers that when I decant it on Christmas Eve that it’ll be a suitable treat for Christmas lunch.

Work itself was fine and the office is just a 20 minute drive away from Bath, keeping a nice separation in the evenings, I haven’t regretted it so far and don’t think I will.

It’s only for a year anyway and it’ll mean that a number of things that need doing this year won’t impact on my pension fund or savings.

It wasn’t all sweetness and light though, Cairo got attacked by two German Shepherds on Thursday and was limping quite badly when I got home.

But they’re tough little fuckers, Milo got kicked up in the air by a pony a few years ago and only had a cracked rib, Cairo is now running around happily and only has a couple of cuts.

The owner of the Shepherds was distraught and did all that she could and more, she seems like a nice person and all’s well now.

We’ve had a few walks over the weekend and both dogs have helped me get my office ready for next week when I start working from home in earnest.

The Milo Industries Global HQ is now ready to be a hive of industry and sleeping dogs as of today.

And that’s where things are as of today.

Things are as good as they can be but I know that this is ephemeral, we have to work hard to appreciate what’s good in our lives.

The news from Bondi Beach today is horrifying and somehow more personal than it should be.

I’ve been there for all of 20 minutes once but it was always one of those places where people would talk about having Christmas dinner on the beach.

Families have been ripped apart and nothing for those people will be the same.

Loss when it comes, can be sudden and overwhelming and grudges and hurts can never be fixed from that point onward.

None of us know what’s coming next, so take the time if you can to make sure that your loved ones know that you love them; get in touch with old friends, make definite plans to see them.

Cuddle those closest to you and take the time to appreciate the small moments, enjoy the peace and appreciate the good things while you can.

Greetings from Shropshire!

That wasn’t the plan for this week, but then nothing at the moment was in the plan that I vaguely had at the end of Summer.

More of that shortly.

But today.

Today, I was supposed to be in Spain recovering from an epic drinking session after watching bands in a rock bar all weekend.

I’d booked a suite in a golf club, lounge time at Birmingham airport and was looking forward to a weekend away and that feeling of the unknown.

Nope.

I’ve managed to create my own time pressure by agreeing to go back to work for a year to help a friend out.

I start on the 8th of December and in the normal course of events, four days away wasn’t an issue.

But my aunt in the care home has had a series of falls, so I swapped my flights for a long drive and my suite in a golf club for a room in Old Tebay in a lovely little inn.

And I took my girlie with me.

She’s a wonderful travel companion and she’s one of the things that my aunt really looks forward to when I visit.

So that’s what we did.

A seven hour drive in fucking awful weather, because duty and love can be bound inextricably.

And duty can’t just be turned off.

When I wrote this…

In the end

I genuinely hoped that I’d heard the last of the small ‘e’ evil that is Susan Auckland.

But it’s not to be.

She’s so fucking horrible that wherever she goes, she scares and worries people, they google her and end up with me.

And so it is.

She owns a flat in a small town in Scotland, free and clear.

She also owes a lot of money.

It’s her pattern.

In a twist this time, she’s ALSO a resident in a social housing block that’s owned and run by Hanover Scotland.

Why would that be?

Why would you live among vulnerable people when you have your own property?

Quite the conundrum.

Anyway.

Three separate people have been in touch, so I turned off the instinct to ignore it.

And I wrote to their chief executive.

This is the last paragraph.

So, once again, apologies for the direct approach but I feel it incumbent on me to warn you that you have a predator in your midst and that it may be prudent to check with the other residents to ensure that they have control of their credit and debit cards. 

I haven’t heard back and I don’t care if I do.

If you ignore these things, you’re effectively complicit and it’s another drop of corrosion that eats into your soul and mine really doesn’t need any more darkness to be let in.

So…

Instead of being here… (photo kindly sent to me so that I could see what I was missing)

I’m sat here with Cairo asleep beside me, while I listen to music and drink beer.

It could be an awful lot worse.

At least I don’t have to fly back tomorrow on a fucking Ryanair flight.

Man Plans.

‘Der Mensch Tracht, un Gott Lacht’

And God laughs

Fuck me.

What a week it’s been.

Not for me in particular, but an awful murder of a good man happened earlier in the week and then a mass-stabbing event last night on a train.

No dead so far, I hope that my suspicions about the playbook for these things are wrong and that there won’t be a trickle of reported deaths over the next 24 hours.

It’s not terrorism apparently.

We’ll see.

It’s certainly going to scare a huge number of people – again.

All while our government blatantly lies to us about almost everything.

So fuck that.

I can’t dwell on it.

Let’s talk about just one day.

Halloween.

All Hallows Eve.

Samhain.

The night that the bridge between worlds grows stronger – that the veil grows thinner.

A time for honouring the dead and paying homage to the spirits.

Fuck that too.

I went to my normal farm shop and picked up a load of top quality beef, some of which was destined for a pie.

And prepared the house for a dark guest and her earthly guardians.

Dottie.

The dog of my new friends, who’d stopped over overnight on their way home.

We ate well, we drank good wines and we talked of enough things to fill five blog posts.

The doglets took to her very quickly, she’s Milo’s size and she’s a sweet and loving little dog.

If a bit rapacious- I had to put Milo and Cairo’s food out of her reach – much to her disappointment.

It all went incredibly well and we walked all three dogs before they journeyed home.

The husband is incredibly well connected and knows a lot of what’s behind the curtain right now and I’m still taking some of it in.

Along with his offer to give me a proper briefing that may help me.

With my new (one year) job.

Because I had an interview that day too.

It sounds like a proper challenge, one I thought that I wouldn’t see again given that I stopped working in April.

This is for another friend though, the money will be welcome but uninteresting – it’s the challenge that’s fun.

So.

Once again, I’m not going to write about horror.

There’s still too many good things.

Go and find some if you can.

The clocks have gone back and it’s already getting dark outside.

Not quite 5pm on a Sunday evening and the wind, rain and gloom are encroaching upon the last vestiges of light over the hills.

The darkness will take hold shortly and only the desperate or the creatures of the night will be abroad, hunting or being hunted, playing out their dance of death.

Inside, in the light, I’ll cook, drink some wine and watch a film while the doglets snuggle into me, keeping us all warm; because it’s not quite cold enough to light the fire yet.

I’ve spent the week performing minor fixes to things around the house and painting the workshop floor in sections so that I don’t have to move anything outside into the cold and wet.

The time since I gave up work has flashed by, Spring rolling into a glorious Summer and slowly into Autumn .

Until, as if a switch has been activated, we’re into cold and rain, the trees are changing colour more rapidly and shedding leaves like huge red and brown droplets as you walk through.

But the dark is definitely gathering.

We’re heading into the shortest days, the coldest days and I suspect that this winter may be brutal.

But, I’ll be as prepared as possible, there’s a huge stock of wood, I’ll get the oil tank filled in a few weeks, all the wood outside has been oiled or painted and the gates will be firmly closed against the outside world.

I’ll use the extra hours of enforced quiescence to go back into the gym, read more books and enjoy the fact that I’ve made things as safe as secure as possible.

We can’t worry about everything and for now I’ll take the time to allow myself to enjoy the peace of mind that I’m feeling.

Things will change- probably soon.

I have an ‘interview’ on Friday and it’s very, very likely that I’ll be going back to work for up to a year.

I’ve been asked by one of my best friends to help with a few issues, I’ll be paid as a contractor and that money will mostly go to a fund for things that will need replacing over the next few years – it’ll save me touching my pension too.

So.

Life is still good, the wider issues aren’t going away but for now, I’ll make my peace with the darkness.

The year is just flashing by, the trees are now red and gold, the hedges are all cut back and the farms have harvested all the summer crops, replacing them with grass or winter wheat.

The weather has finally turned and it’s going to be cold enough soon to put the shorts away and wear more layers of varying waterproofness for the walks with the doglets.

Although, bizarrely, the wildflower area is doing fantastically.

It’s dark by 630 here now and it’ll soon be time for the first log fire of the year.

I left work over six months ago now and haven’t missed it for a single second, I’ve stayed in touch with all my people and have helped them where possible – including pointing out the pathway to a new job for more than one of them.

All of my outside jobs for the year are complete and I’m now in the process of painting the workshop floor before it gets too grim, so that furniture can be taken in for winter, cushions put in the loft and space made for things like the barbecue that live outside all spring and summer before going into steel hibernation until next year.

Obviously, you can’t paint floors without help, in this case it was Cairo .

But I’ve decided that I’m going to preserve one of her prints for the life of the floor and I’ll post the finished article at some point, but Milo is determined that he wants to get in on the action.

The doglets like the change in the weather as it gives them even more time to snuggle up and snore softly while they trap me on the sofa for hours at a time.

Sometime next week, I’ll decant 50 litres of cider into barrels and store it for another week or so before it’s ready for drinking.

And I’ll take some of that cider to the farm shop who were grateful for the gift of loads of apples – grateful enough for free apple pies for a while anyway.

They’re keen to see how it tastes as they’ve never considered making it.

I’ve helped a neighbour understand the new internet and phone system that BT have just dumped on him and have his assurances that if I need help with anything practical, he’ll be there.

I have new friends and their dog coming here at the end of the month and an old friend offering to come and cut a load of trees back in return for – well.

Nothing.

Just because he’s a friend.

On Tuesday, I’m meeting the local mayor and the High Sheriff of Shropshire at a local school when she presents to the kids.

And.

On Thursday, I’m meeting a cast of people.

My pensions advisor- now a friend, I’ve got some interesting questions for him as well as some beers.

One of the Feral Ponies ( let’s call him my Nephew, there’s a story there, not least because his parents are Nigerian, but that’s for another time ) – his drama at work is nearly over, he’s been treated worse than I’ve seen for many, many years but he’s come through unscathed, I don’t think his bosses will.

At least one of the other Ponies – as a surprise to my Nephew.

And The Smurf after 4pm.

There’s no plans for the day, I’m staying in the club as usual, my hatred for tourists is undiminished and I’ll be back mid-morning on Friday to walk the doglets.

Who have a new sitter.

She’s fantastic and the doglets have taken to her immediately, which was useful this week as I had to go to a funeral 120 miles away.

But it all worked and I’ve made sure, by the simple expedient of paying her a decent bonus on top of her agreed fee, that she can help again if needed.

So, as usual when I write this drivel, I’m sat in the kitchen with music, one of the dogs and beer. The weather is too grim to see the hills, but I know they’re there and, the view in between is pretty good too.

I don’t know what the next few weeks will bring apart from the things I’ve listed, but for a boy from a council flat in Hackney, I have nothing at all to complain about.

Nothing.