Category: Random

On Friday night the perfect storm of work that is presently engulfing me abated for a moment and P and I went to see Cirque De Soleil as guests of a particularly generous client. We followed that with some Italian food and a little wine and staggered home, waxen-faced with tiredness.

I climbed straight into bed and P sat awhile at her PC before creeping up the stairs. “Are you awake?” she whispered. I was, barely, so I lay doggo for fear she might be about to ask me about what colour the curtains in the new house should be or something else I’m ill-equipped to deal with at the best of times.

Cautiously she edged into the darkened  bedroom. My eyes sprang open as I heard a sound that could only really be P crushing my glasses under her heel. “Oh CRAP!” she whispered. She waited to see if I had woken, scooped the bits into her hand and headed for the bathroom with the debris in order to examine the damage. There she was apparently overwhelmed with remorse as I could hear distinctly saying:

“Ha ha I never liked them anyway”.

Where I feel happiest

There are a number of candidates but having forced myself to decide the answer was, until 15 years ago: in bed, at night with a storm rattling the windows. For the last 15 years it’s been much the same but now I am lying spooning with P, one arm draped over her listening to her sleeping breaths as the storm rages.

Things I avoid

(1) Argument By this I mean debate whether it be political, philosophical or ethical. The problem is that I enjoy it way too much. Once we have begun to argue, I simply will not stop until you have accepted my position and renounced the feeble nonsense that you call your own. I am not one for relativism of principle and my overweening sense of self-righteousness is matched with a diabolical relentlessness. Long past 3 am, well past the point you have lost the will to live, I am pursuing you out of the door as you search for a cab, a horse, a bicycle, anything just to get you away. It is not enough to surrender, oh no, I must believe that you believe. I will not be placated. Keep me away from that stuff and we’ll get away fine.

(2) Competitive Games Never break out the Trivial Pursuit when I am in the room. Do not weedle at me until I relent and play Pictionary. When you see me sweating and refusing to play that is the sweat of an alcoholic, 12 years off the bottle, faced with a bottle of cask strength Talisker. It is not that I need to win (though I notice that when I do things run more smoothly for all concerned) it is just that I develop a sense of fairness and propriety that classifies almost any gentle warping of the rules (which I have read and memorised in preparation) as a sin reaching past fratricide in terms of infamy. Indeed fratricide is always a risk when we play games as a family. May the Lord forbid that anyone should have any fun.

(3) Nostalgia There are songs – songs I once loved – that I simply cannot bear to listen to now. They make my heart ache. I feel a welling emptiness into which I gently implode. I become drowsy and confused as if dosed with morphine syrup. C S Lewis thought that powerful longing, induced by music or some other beauty, was the soul longing for God. It overwhelms me so utterly that I have to stay focused on the gravelly future instead; eyes narrowed and walking forward like Lot.

Jobs I wish I done

(1) Cartoonist I was cartoonist for my University newspaper. Not a particularly good one but good enough and reliable when it came to deadlines. As it became more obvious I was heading towards the Law and still more obvious that the I would never be even a scintilla as good as any of those handful of cartoonists that appeared to make a living at it, I put the pens aside. When webcomics took off, I had another look at the situation. I was encouraged to find that most webcomics were appalling bad. Unfunny in a million different ways (900, 000 of them being demonstrated by strips like PvP); either drawn left-handed by right-handed artists or else by people whose artistic talent would not stretch to finger-painting on a good day. Some truly abominable piles of shite seemed to have a baying audience of near-obsessive fans. That’s what I wanted, an army of unthinking moobsophiles ready to buy T-Shirts and to pay for me to fly to Hawaii to be snide to them at conventions. Then I came across Beaver and Steve and snapped the digital artpad in two. James’s strips are amongst the best I have read in any format at any time. I hope he appreciates how good he really is. He is not alone. For a taste of the best have a look at Beardy Rick’s blogroll.

(2) Astronomer I did an Open University course in Astronomy and Planetary Science and haven’t felt so excited by every word I read since R and I found his father’s frankly astonishing collection of pornography when we were 10 (“What is that thing?!!”). However, ultimately I fail to meet the two minimum requirements for the job. First, every time I try to grow a beard it largely congregates under my chin making me look as if I am wearning a ruff woven from red and black pubic hair. Secondly, I am way too stupid at maths (bah).

You may have noticed that I tend not to write about work (but then nor do most of you so stop pointing the finger). However, I would like to share a moment from court today.

I was against a litigant in person. He is a likeable (and skillful) former employee of a Bangladeshi Bank. As a leathery-winged agent of evil, I was representing the bank. We were in the High Court and my opponent commenced his submissions by saying:

“You will see that I am not a lawyer and I ask for your compassion”.

That was a pretty startling opening sentence as very few people have ever suggested that they deserve sympathy for not being a lawyer. However, it got odder still. His next sentence began:

“My Lord* I would like to tell you how we see you …”

At this, his lordship shifted uneasily in his seat. Normally one does not get to tell judges how one feels about them. In fact there is a specific offence – contempt of court – which is designed to ensure you do your best to remain obsequious and to deter your from expressing frankly your feelings about judges. Personally, I yield to no advocate in my willingness to kiss judicial rear. If it will cause the judge to look fondly on my client’s case I am prepared to test the suction-resistance of his lordly posterior to destruction. However, I have never gone quite as far as my opponent went today:

” … we see you as the living embodiment of the Lord God Almighty. Justice is in your hands and we hope his divine compassion will flow through you.”

The judge paused before responding:

“I’ll do my best”

* All High Court Judges get a knighthood but are then referred to, confusingly, as “my Lord” even though they are not peers. This all leads to a story told about F E Smith (a famous advocate) which it is just about possible one or two of you may not have heard. Smith, cross-examining a witness, asks:

“So, the Defendant was as drunk as a judge”

The outraged judge intervenes:

“You are in error, Mr Smith, it is ‘as sober as a judge’, what you mean to say is ‘as drunk as a Lord'”

Smith: “If you say so my Lord”.

It will disturb you to learn that barristers think that is hilarious.