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Luck

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“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

Maya Angelou, ‘All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes’

My last post concluded thus:

“There is clearly – as with all such things – some meaning behind all of this emotional upheaval. We await with interest to see what it is.”

Well – we did not have long to wait to discover what it might be.

We have bought a house!!

The Kickass Canada Girl and I are heading to the interior for a short period from tomorrow and communication may be difficult, but we did want to share this news before we left. Full details of one of the fastest house sales of all time will be posted later, but for now let me gently stimulate your envy buds!

This is the unassuming prospect of the property from the road:

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But this is what it looks like from the back:

imageThe building to the right is not the property next door but the outbuilding that will become my studio! The house itself needs a fair bit of updating but we are prepared to take time over that.

The deal maker is what you get if you look out of the back of the house:

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Nuff said!

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"LastSpike Craigellachie BC Canada" by Ross, Alexander, Best & Co., Winnipeg - This image is available from Library and Archives Canada under the reproduction reference number C-003693 and under the MIKAN ID number 3194527This tag does not indicate the copyright status of the attached work. A normal copyright tag is still required. See Commons:Licensing for more information.Library and Archives Canada does not allow free use of its copyrighted works. See Category:Images from Library and Archives Canada.. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LastSpike_Craigellachie_BC_Canada.jpg#/media/File:LastSpike_Craigellachie_BC_Canada.jpgYou must submit to supreme suffering in order to discover the completion of joy.

John Calvin

Wow!

I really am just that little bit too ‘hyper’ to give you the full details right now, though you can be sure that I will have much more to write on the subject in the days to come.

All that need be said right now, however, is that today – after much tension and worry and agonising – our apartment in Buckinghamshire was finally sold!! The monies are in our account and we have already booked the transfer to our Canadian bank at a most advantageous rate.

Our estate agent (realtor) gave us a bottle of chilled champagne from their suspiciously capacious refrigerator when I dropped the keys off this morning and we intend to do it some serious damage!

Joy unbound!……………………..

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VESPERS by E.H. Shepardwhisper who dares
The Kickass Canada Girl and the Imperceptible Immigrant are saying their prayers!

With apologies to A. A. Milne

No sooner had I posted my lament of Sunday evening bemoaning the lack of progress in the sale of our Buckinghamshire apartment…

…than we had an offer!!

I wasted no time in passing this rapidly on to the Kickass Canada Girl who has previous in the field of negotiation – and before we knew it a price had been agreed…

As I have made mention in a long-previous post, buying and selling property in the UK is a very different proposition to so doing in Canada (and indeed in most other places). As a result there will be no chickens counted – and indeed very little said – for fear of offending the fates and invoking bad karma.

Let’s say no more for now – just tiptoe away quietly…

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Image by Andy Dawson Reid“I was pirouette and flourish,
I was filigree and flame.
How could I count my blessings
when I didn’t know their names?”

Rita Dove ‘On the Bus With Rosa Parks’

We who are the fortunate ones should by now know most intimately the names of our blessings and thus meet no such challenges in the area of numeracy. Our blessings are counted daily and grateful thanks are offered to our gods – whatever form they may take.

This week brings yet another such benediction. We have to be at work for only three of its working days!

Yippee!

On Thursday it is the Kickass Canada Girl’s birthday and – as is our wont – we will be celebrating in some style. We escape in the morning to that favourite haunt of ours – the lovely Georgian city of Bath. Owing to a turn of outrageously good fortune I am in grateful possession of a gift voucher for the night at an extremely prestigious spa hotel, to which we will repair forthwith. Spa treatments for the Girl and extended exposure to sauna and steam rooms for me will be followed by a splendid repast at the hotel’s Michelin-starred eatery – and all as a result of a favour that I did for someone. Truly what goes around comes around.

Sadly we could not afford to extend our stay at this pleasure dome to a second night, and Friday thus finds us downgrading to a rather more humble hostelry. We should not complain though, as this one also has a pretty decent restaurant. We will not be able to tarry in any case as we must make our way over to the Recreation Ground – being lucky possessors of tickets for the Bath/Saracens game on the Friday evening. Those who follow such things will know that the top of the table in this year’s rugby premiership is currently fairly tight, and that as a result this particular clash carries great import.

Saturday will – the Girl assures me – be given over to shopping. There is the small matter of a birthday gift to be purchased, in the form – most likely – of a new outfit. I wouldn’t want to give too much away – however – so we will have to see what transpires.

We are very aware that we are extremely lucky souls and we are filled with gratitude for all of the wonderful gifts that are bestowed upon us. It behoves us not to take these things for granted – and we will do our darnedest so not to do.

Blessings, blessings, blessings…

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Sagrada_Familia_01Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

You have to hand it to the Universe!…

On any given evening last week – following our reluctant return from Victoria – the Kickass Canada Girl and I were to be found musing as to the timing and destination of our next expedition.

The first time I experienced this particular phenomenon it came as something of a shock. I am by now – however – well used to the fact that the Girl habitually cures herself of the post-excursion blues by immediately instigating the planning phases of our next trip (or two!) regardless of whether or not the scheme is feasible, practicable or – more importantly – affordable.

In this instance we were attempting to get through the immediate post-Canada low by contemplating the possibility of a little ‘budget’ jaunt to some European (or other!) destination for a couple of days in early spring. A cheap winter break in the Canaries mayhap? Or perhaps a weekend in Bath (The latter usually more expensive than the former!)? Conversation turned idly the fact that the Girl has never been to Barcelona – which is a pretty lovely place to be at that time of year. Hmmm! What to do?

We sighed deeply. If we were honest with ourselves we would have, reluctantly, to admit that in all probability – and in spite of our week of extensive musing – very likely none of these pipe-dreams would come to fruition.

And that might have been that…

…were it not for the fact that on that very Friday afternoon the Head of Drama at the School collared me in the cloisters (!) with an unexpected enquiry. ‘How did I feel about spending a few days in Barcelona over Easter’? Needless to say I practically bit his arm off!

The Theatre Studies boys are visiting Barcelona for a week’s study trip to a performing arts college there. The Head of Drama is in need of additional staff cover for half the week. We get one air fare paid – accommodation for three nights – food for half the week and some additional expenses. The Girl and I rushed to our nearest coffee shop to get onto the InterWebNet (still no broadband at home – grrr!), booked another flight for her and found a hotel in the city itself for a few days after my duty is done.

Hey presto! A spring break in Barcelona at half the cost…

Are we not lucky dogs?!

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Image by Duncan Hull on FlickrA couple of days ago I found myself reading online yet another article intent on delivering a good kicking to the generation of which I am still proud to be a member – the baby boomers! It would seem that there is something of an open season on the boomers, but whereas cross-generational assaults are nothing new – and are indeed normally to be considered healthy – there was something about this particular bushwhacking that finally got my goat… In fact – there were several things – and a whole herd of goats!

It has become highly fashionable to paint a picture in which the boomers – inheriting a veritable garden of Eden from what was arguably the ‘greatest generation’ – proceeded through their self-indulgence and negligence to run amok, scorching their way through the post war decades and leaving in their wake an arid wasteland of debt and desolation for the generations to come.

Well – let’s try to get some perspective here. Whereas I am unstinting in my admiration for those who lived through the depression and fought the last great war for us, we should perhaps ask ourselves why it was that they were obliged so to do at all. The boomers are far from unique in having made mistakes that have impacted on succeeding generations. Let us recall a century of political and religious extremism, of bigotry and repression and of the resultant global conflagrations. Let us remember the experiments with communism and fascism – the equal failures of socialism and of unfettered capitalism. Let us not forget the eagerness with which we rushed to create weapons that could destroy all sentient life on this fragile planet, and let us not doubt for a second that greed and self-interest are as old as civilisation itself and have caused havoc across the millennia.

Certainly we boomers were and are lucky. We are blessed in so many ways. We were not called upon to make the sacrifices that were demanded of the preceding generation. We have doubtless had it better than will those that immediately succeed us, but such generational variation has ever been the case. More to the point is the question of the purpose to which this generation has put its good fortune – of what legacy it will leave. I firmly believe that history will show that – alongside the negativity endemic in its self-absorption – this generation will be remembered for its creativity and for its espousal of good causes – even if sadly also less positively for its failure to contribute to their resolution as properly as it might.

One of the things that annoyed me most about this recent attack was that its author himself qualifies as a boomer! It seems that it has now become ‘de rigueur’ to assail one’s own generation. Now – as it happens, I don’t think that this is particularly healthy. I have no issue with the younger generations so doing… indeed – that is as it should be. When we were young we certainly rebelled against the mores and strictures of our parents’ existence and I don’t think that we expected for a minute that they would meekly cave in and bow to our youthful (lack of) wisdom. It is bad enough that some of my generation seem all too keen to be perceived as ‘cool’ by today’s ‘yoof’ – to be thought to be ‘good guys’… it is quite another thing to be giving our own generation a good kicking to save the young the trouble of having so to do.

Worse yet – the attack was not on the pitiful state in which we may indeed yet leave the world’s economies – but on our cultural hegemony. The suggestion appeared to be that all those writers, poets, musicians, film-makers, designers, thinkers and other creatives whom many of us believe to be the cream of our generation, should do the decent thing and step aside – to retire and leave the stage to the young. That’s not how it works! How are the new generations going to be able to attain the heights of achievement that did the best of us if they don’t have to fight for the right so to do?

Gentlemen – and ladies – this is not helping! The young need us to rebel against. This self-flagellation and expiation helps no-one – least of all the coming generations. If we can’t give the young something to kick against we are no use to them at all…

…and if we can’t be proud of ourselves how can we possibly expect anyone else so to be?

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 Photo on Flickr by aresauburn™I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them but they were only satellites
It’s wrong to wish on space hardware
I wish, I wish, I wish you’d care

New England – Billy Bragg

 

Spent some time outside last night –  looking for Perseids…

Saw three shooting stars – and a bat!…

Made a wish (on the stars – not on the bat!)…

Seemed a reasonable night’s work – so I called it a day – (if you see what I mean)…

 

Got a crick in my neck!…

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We are – it would seem – fascinated by coincidence. When we read of – or better still, experience for ourselves – some remarkable or unexpected occurrence that seems to defy all the odds, a tingle of excitement runs up the spine – the pulse quickens – the cosmos shifts…

Might this be because we are drawn to the unusual – because we like to see patterns or meanings in the very heart of chaos – or just because the idea of beating the odds appeals to those of us who instinctively support the underdog?

In truth many coincidences – happenings that seem to defy the odds – turn out to be far from unlikely after all. The work colleague whom you encounter unexpectedly on holiday in a foreign land probably comes from a similar background and has similar predilections to you. You have both doubtless studied much the same marketing materials from the tour companies and have reached similar conclusions as to where to take your break.

Consider the well know ‘birthday problem’ from probability theory. This states that, though a gathering would need to comprise 367 people to guarantee that 2 of them share a birthday, only 23 need be present for there to be a 50-50 chance of this happening. To put this another way, in a school with many classrooms each of which contains 23 pupils, approximately half of the rooms would incorporate 2 pupils who share a birthday.

Attempts to ascribe meaning to these or other coincidences are futile. There is no meaning. These things just happen. In this 2007 article from Psychology Today, John Allen Paulos (Professor of Mathematics at Temple University in Philadelphia and best-selling author of Innumeracy: Mathematical Illiteracy and Its Consequences) is quoted thus:

“In reality, the most astonishingly incredible coincidence imaginable would be the complete absence of all coincidence. Believing in the significance of oddities is self-aggrandizing. It says, ‘Look how important I am.’ People find it dispiriting to hear, ‘It just happened, and it doesn’t mean anything.'”

 

But of course, you don’t really want to read all of this psychological guff – you just want to hear my coincidence story!

 

The building in which I work includes a good sized atrium which is used on occasion for functions. Just the other day I was returning to my office through the atrium at the first floor level (the second floor if you are Canadian!) and saw that it was being set up for a dinner, with six or seven large round tables each seating 10 diners.

Wondering as to the nature of the event I descended to the floor of the atrium to speak to one of the organisers (whom I know well) who was helping to lay the tables for the dinner. I stopped by the table that she was working on, on the opposite side to where she was. As we chatted she was working her way round the table, putting out place cards at the head of each setting. Reaching the seat immediately in front of me – and without looking at it – she took from her pile and placed on the table a card with my name on it!

As I was definitely not attending the dinner this meant that one of the guests and I share a name – and I don’t just mean a Christian name! The odds on that must be reasonably slim, but those on me standing quite by chance in front of the seat which my namesake would later occupy must be even slimmer.

What might this mean?

I guess it means I should buy a lottery ticket!

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“Smile while you’re makin’ it. Laugh while you’re takin’ it. Even though you’re fakin’ it. Nobody’s gonna know” – Alan Price

One of the reasons that I have not previously considered writing a blog is that I feel somewhat ambivalent about the motivation so to do. Creative writing – which in my case means writing plays – seems quite different. When I finish a project and launch it into the world (however insignificant a part of the world that might be) the piece ceases to be mine and takes on a life of its own. Certainly there is something of me in it, but it is not necessary to know anything about me to engage with the work.

Blogging feels more self-centered – more about me, me, me! Why would anyone want to read my ramblings? Isn’t it somewhat pretentious to imagine that anything I might say could be of any interest or value? Or am I perhaps just being a bit too self-consciously ‘English’ about it all?

The truth is that I am a lucky person. More than that – I have also been very fortunate. Opinion seems to be divided as to whether these are one and the same thing, and indeed as to whether either is simply the outcome of chance occurence or can be influenced by our actions and behaviour. It may be the case, of course, that the nature of our fortune derives simply from the way that we react to chance events.

In an unusual twist we find new age thinking – with its Law of Attraction – almost entirely in ageement with ‘science’. Richard Wiseman, professor of psychology at the University of Hertfordshire, has carried out a 10 year study into the subject. His conclusions are fundamentally that those who believe themselves to be lucky invariably turn out to be so. Being open to opportunity and focussing on positive outcomes tends to lead to better fortune.

I don’t doubt this, but I do believe that my life experience also contains much good fortune that has been entirely outside my influence.

  • I am a boomer – one of the most blessed of generations.
  • I grew up in the sixties. Whatever re-evaluation there might have been of late concerning that golden age most of us are deeply grateful to have lived through it.
  • Despite having no idea what I wanted to do with my life I have had a fascinating career and have had the good fortune to work in some very special places and with some special people.
  • I have met many wonderful, clever and fascinating people, with some of whom I have been married, had relationships or developed friendships.
  • I have always been able to indulge my creative impulses and have met others with whom to do so.
  • I have always been in final salary pension schemes – though that was never something I looked for. I joined my current scheme a month before it closed to new members. This, naturally, is of particular import now.

…but, of course, most of all…

  • I met Kickass Canada Girl. She came eight and a half thousand miles to find me and, but for the most fortuitous of circumstances, we might never have met. As all my fortune and happiness is bound up with her I would say this was spectacularly lucky!

I suppose my fear is that, having been this fortunate, I should just shut up and keep quiet about it. This does raise the question of what is the appropriate reaction to being lucky. Should I feel guilty that there are many in the West worse off than I am? Should I feel even more quilty that many in the rest of the world are far worse off than 99% of us in the West?

Perhaps the best response is to celebrate all good fortune, my own and others, and to do my whatever I can to increase the happiness of those that I know and those that I meet, as well as – wherever possible – those that need it most.

“If I am only happy for myself, many fewer chances for happiness. If I am happy when good things happen to other people, billions more chances to be happy!” – The Dalai Lama.

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