A Small Milestone

Today I cancelled my US cellphone. I sent out texts to everyone one in my phone-book that I thought would want my new number, shut the phone off, and removed the sim card, never to be used again. It feels a little strange - I had that number for five years, ever since moving to Arizona. It becomes a part of your identity, and so I guess I'm feeling as if I've lost a part of myself. If so, it's a part of myself I won't miss. There is no longer anything 480 319 4096 about me.
Coming back to Scotland has been difficult, both logistically and emotionally, but each passing day makes me more sure it was the right move.

All that's missing is a job.

Sent fae ma HTC PURE™, a Windaes® phone fae AT&T that now bleathers wi' a wee brogue.

This is what inner peace looks like.

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Windows® phone from AT&T that knows no stress or anxiety.

I don't want to save the rainforest, I just want to keep my shirts dry.

It is been raining here for the past week or so, with varying degrees of strength. Last night we had a bit of a mini downpour. In the middle of the night, I heard a strange "thup, thup, thup" coming from the closet. I got up to investigate and found my clothes were soaking wet; the ceiling was leaking quite heavily. Now, this would not be that unusual of occurrence in Scotland during a rainstorm except for one salient fact; my flat is on the ground floor of a two-storey building. What makes it worse is that the closet has a small cupboard above it, which in effect creates another ceiling, and this arrangement is repeated in the flat above. So, for water to enter my closet and soak my shirts, it must first bypass the roof, enter the cupboard in the upstairs flat, drip into the closet below that, flow in to my cupboard, and finally drain into my closet and onto my clothes. Realising this, I went upstairs to investigate the flat, which was surprisingly unlocked, and unsurprisingly unoccupied. I really don't have words to describe it, save to say that it reminded me of the waterpark in San Dimas, California. I emailed my landlord about this, more for the benefit of him and his building than my waterlogged wearables, and I received his reply this morning, which was to the effect that he had been upstairs to view the flat, and amazingly enough, there was a small leak that needed seeing to. My landlord, while nice enough, definitely has a gift for understatement. My first thoughts on viewing the upstairs flat was I had discovered a new rainforest ecosystem and that there might be predators, possibly jaguars or pumas, lurking about.

No matter, I'm not taking any chances; I am building an ark.

Interesting Things

They are everywhere, but always outside.

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Stares out the Windows® phone from AT&T

Why is it...

...when I'm trying to go to bed / fall asleep the cats always think that is a cue for putting on a floor show, complete with a kitty can-can? Right now they are flipping a cat toy at each other as if they were defending a football (soccer for my US friends) goal. While cute, it's annoying.

Little nocturnal jerks.

A secret message for a friend in Finland

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Windows® phone from AT&T

Waiting at the window.

Hobbes

"There is a whole world out there...  and it's fascinating and beautiful!"

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Windows® phone from AT&T that is really glad to be with his cats in Scotland

The Law of Unintended Diner Consequences

I was emailing a friend of mine back in New York who is a waiter at the diner I used to frequent. And I was bemoaning the lack of diners in Scotland, in fact the whole UK. Really, the closest you get to an American-style diner here in the UK is a transport cafe, the kind that you used to see on the roads/motorways. These however, are exceedingly rare these days, having been killed off by motorway services, which are invariably a Burger King, KFC, and or a rather crap self-service cafe. Even the original transport cafes were nowhere near as good, cheap and cool as an upper East coast American diner. When I used to play in rockabilly bands my UK friends in the scene were particularly obsessed with American diner culture (which is somewhat ironic since I was always obsessed with European, particularly French, cafe culture; plus ca change...) and wishing it could be found in Blighty. I think the closest the UK ever came to having an American style diner was the Ace Cafe in North London, but even then that was mostly about atmosphere and not food. Anyway, I was thinking about why that was the case, other than Brits traditionally having no taste for decent food and not caring about not having any taste for food (it should be noted that this has greatly changed over the last 20 years; I blame TV chefs and cheap holidays to Florida – it only takes a trip to one all you can eat buffet to open up your eyes).

Anyway, I was thinking about why this was the case. I think that there are two main reasons; real estate and taxes. Both of these reasons are intertwined with the fact the basic nature of the diner is to sit down to eat. Although Americans have always been very big on eating on the go, they also been very big on quick meals in places where you can sit down – lunch counters and diners. And while shop space in American cities has always been expensive, it is been much more so in towns and cities in the UK. Shops here are small because rent is expensive. A shopkeeper has to make every square foot of his shop pay for itself. That is why you do not tend to see shops in the UK that are laid out with beautiful minimalist designs like an Apple Store in the US. It just doesn't make financial sense. By the same token, restaurants tend to take up lots of space. In a sitdown restaurant the kitchen is actually only a small percentage of the total floor space. In the UK the thinking tends to be on how to minimise business costs – since those costs tend to be so high – rather than how to increase business to cover those costs. So for the would-be UK restauranteur, If you are aiming at the lower end of the market, it makes much more sense to open a takeaway (no dining room which means no waitresses, no dishes and cutlery, and much less washing, etc) than a traditional sitdown restaurant. The other big detriment for a restaurant owner here is VAT, which is the sales tax in the UK. The government does not charge VAT on food, unless it is served in a sitdown restaurant. Oh, and did I mention that the VAT is 17.5%? So for the privilege of sitting down to eat your meal, it will cost you 17.5% more. And most people in the UK do not feel that is good value for money. Most people here wanting a cheap meal would be happy to take it home, or more likely just eat it in the street rather than pay for the privilege of sitting down. Britain is one of the few European countries were eating in the street (other than something like an ice cream cone) is not frowned upon (in fact it is very common). While I'm sure there are other forces at work, I think it's likely that these two economic factors are the main reasons why an American-style diner culture has never taken hold in the UK.

Mushroom, mushoom.

Reunited with two old friends; my antique shaving mug and my snakewood/silver badger hair shaving brush. The type of bristles on a shaving brush makes a huge difference to how well the soap lathers, and hence how close a shave you get. Foam in a can is crap by comparison. Once you've had badger, you can't go back.

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Windows® phone from AT&T that knows how to properly shave old school.

PS Only a very select few will get the meaning of the title. But who cares...

Spinning my wheels.

All day today. It's always the minutia of life that keeps you from getting to the real work.

Jersey

So all my staff arrived today from the US. Unpacking was slightly less problematic than packing was back in New York City. The only problem I ran into was that the storage unit I rented was a bit smaller than the one in Manhattan. And while there wasn't much space left in that one, this one is packed absolutely full top to bottom. In fact, to get everything to fit I actually had to take some clothes and a couple of small boxes back to the flat. The price for storage is roughly the same as it was in Manhattan, the problem is that storage units tend to be smaller over here. I have the biggest one that's available (and the second biggest size that they have on the site) and it's only 7 x 8 x 8 feet tall. And of course the said to be shipped internationally by a 20 foot container that was only half full, because it works out cheaper that way. Crazy. One big difference between here in New York was the guy who delivered the shipping container; the delivery driver here was a couple of hours early, but was happy to wait until my movers came to unload it. Then again, that's not too surprising since he was paid to wait – no skin off his nose. The container truck driver in Manhattan was a real piece of work; a union man from New Jersey who obviously aspired to be a character on the Sopranos. He was three hours late delivering the container and then tried to insist that he should charge over time because he was going to be late for his next delivery! When I tried to point out the absurdity of him charging me for his lateness, he really could not understand the contradiction. He said, and I quote,"I dunno nuttin'' 'bout dat, all I know is somebody's gotta pay fur muh overtime".

And people wonder why Jersey's f@#ked.

Comfortable?

This can't be...

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Windows® phone from AT&T

This don't work

Does it?

Sent from my HTC PURE™, a Windows® phone from AT&T

What I did today...

... I spent five hours trying to set up my American mobile phone to work properly with my new UK number (email, etc.). So far I have failed.

But I fight on!

In which I come clean.

If I have any regular readers left, you will have noticed that I have been not blogging much in the past few days. The official excuse is the much moving and resettling I have been doing. This is not only involved physical relocation, but the disruption and reselling of my connectivity to the world, both online and by phone. Especially difficult has been the transition to a UK phone number, since I no longer have easy access to the web connectivity which allowed me to post blog updates via phone. I still haven't gotten around to setting up my crappy old phone to connect to the Internet here. So all of this together is essentially meant radio silence from me here in Scotland.

Except that's bullshit.

All of the foregoing, whilst true, is not the real reason for my absence.

It's small-minded envy.

For the past few weeks, I have been finding myself incredibly envious of others. Their lives, their relationships, their opportunities, their creature comforts. I have been comparing myself and finding myself wanting (in both senses of the word), and beating myself up about it. The thing is, these kind of thoughts are unusual for me; I have many faults, but being small-minded and jealous has never been my modus operandi before. To put it bluntly, I have been throwing a first-class pity party with myself of the guest of honour. And this has affected my blogging in two ways; talking myself into depression has sapped my will to write, and what little I do want to write is all along the lines of "poor me".

Well, screw that for a game of marbles.

Things are not easy for me right now, in fact I think they are about the toughest I can remember in some ways. However it is still a long ways from the end of the world as we know it. I have some pretty important and amazing things going for me. And while none of these by themselves solve my immediate problems, they definitely put me had the game compared to a lot of people. Here then, for my benefit more than yours, is a list of reasons for me to be cheerful.

First and foremost, my health. Oh, it's not perfect, but it could be a lot worse. And, I am now living in a country where if something does happen to me, I actually have access to health care.

I am for the most part, completely debt free. While I was still living in Arizona and making good money, I managed to pay off my huge student loans from the 1980s and early 1990s. Also, when I left the US I left no debt behind me; car loan, credit cards, et cetera were all paid off. The only money I owe is a small amount on the car I just purchased, which will be easily taking care of once I'm working again.

I am a citizen of the UK, and thus eligible to work anywhere in the European Union. This means that lots of jobs in my field, which would normally be tough for Americans to qualify for, are open to me.

I have a Ph.D., which allows me to jump the queue in the bread line and allows me to sit at the high table at any soup kitchen in the UK.

And finally, I am me. And as imperfect and nonoptimal that is in many ways, my experience has been that I have managed to muddle through in many disparate unusual circumstances and been okay. In fact, it's not exaggerating too much to say that my life has been a series of highly unlikely adventures, one after another. All of which I have coped with and survived. There is no reason to believe that my ability to cope and survive has suddenly evaporated.

Spero meliora, baby.

Radio Silence and more on the Fish Tea

I apologise for the recent lack of bloggy-ness. There has then a break in my online connectivity as I transition from US to UK accounts. Normal service is now resuming.

Oh, and by the way, for my non-UK readers, "fish tea" does not refer to a pescetarian beverage, but rather is the Scottish name for an upgraded fish and chips dinner, typically including a buttered slice of white bread and sometimes peas as well, especially if it's not a takeaway. ("Tea" is used here as a synonym for the evening meal."Supper" is also commonly used. "Dinner", is often used as a name for lunch, especially in an institutional setting.)

Although very simple, when done well there is something magical about the combination of fish, chips and peas..

Somewhat ironically, the best drink to accompany a fish tea is not tea, but Irn Bru.