Short breaks and short lives

It’s been another rough week. Both Ka and myself have felt down, depressed and rather grumpy, our thoughts dwelling on our recent loss again, our moods spiralling up and down, like an demented rollercoaster.
Ka is now back at work, full time, and finding it all quite difficult to get back into the routine of things. Ka is strong though, not to mention stubborn and determined. Her boss is being excellent in offering her as much help and support as she needs but Ka is stubbornly getting on with things. As horrible as it is to say, life must go on, something both Ka and myself understand and have to get on with, whilst at the same time, never forgetting.
Arriving home on Friday night cheered us up a little though as waiting for us, on the hall carpet, were our holiday tickets. We booked a week away in May online, last week, with the idea of a beach holiday. A short break. An effort to cheer ourselves up, to some extent. We had not been a quiet beach holiday since back in 2007 when we went to Turkey. Even our honeymoon in 2009 seemed hectic at times, as we toured Rome and Venice. So we wanted a definite break. Somewhere we could go to chill out, get away from work, walk around where no one would know us and just generally get away from it all on a relaxed, calm, restful beach holiday.
We ended up booking a week in Ibiza. Not exactly the first place you think of when you hear the words ‘restful’, ‘calm’ or ‘relaxed’. In fact, I’m sure Ibiza has cropped up on more than a few of those television programmes which show British tourists wobbling around foreign streets, slurring their words, starting fights with their pants round their ankles. Hopefully we’ll be a safe distance from any of that shenanigans though…at least ‘the pants round the ankles’ crowds anyway.
We’re staying in a hotel in San Antonio, a good 20 minutes drive outside Ibiza town, so we do have the option for a clubbing night out if we’re feeling lively enough. It’s still pre-season in May, so it will probably still be pretty calm. Well, calm until Ka and myself get a couple of cocktails down us and then head out to Pacha to get involved, donning our shades, luminous shorts and glow sticks, starting the season off ourselves. Whatever happens, it’ll just be good to get away, even if it is only just for a week.
Something else to look forward to is the return of Doctor Who, back on our screens tonight. My inner geek, and my outer geek for that matter, rejoices. Not that I’ll be in (I’ll be out and about) but hopefully it’ll be on the iPlayer by the time I get round to watching it tomorrow (or late tonight depending on whether I’m allowed!).

It was sad to hear of the death of Lis Sladen, during the week. The Sarah Jane Smith. The Doctor’s greatest companion, whom he mat back in 1973, in his third incarnation, the great Jon Pertwee. Obviously I wasn’t around back in 1973, but on becoming the Doctor Who and sci-fi geek that I became, soon caught up with past events. Even though Sarah Jane hadn’t been in the show continuously when I was a kid, I always remember knowing who she was whenever she cropped up.
Sarah Jane set the benchmark for all female companions to follow, making them all stronger, tougher, more rounded, realistic characters, not to mention the fact she was fairly fanciable in her younger years.
My inner geek waved another accusing fist up at the heavens when I watched the news reports on Tuesday and it has only been a few months since the great Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart, Nicholas Courtney, passed away. Another brilliant companion of the Doc’s from around the same time, and like Sarah Jane Smith, popped up on more than one occasion throughout the show’s history to aid the Doctor in battle against another nasty alien threat.
Sladen was only 63 but had been ill with cancer. I couldn’t believe she was 63, never mind ill.
News today has also broke of John Sullivan’s death. The creator of Only Fools and Horses, another absolute classic and another of my favourites. Sullivan was surely a comedy writing genius of our time? He was only 64?! That’s nothing!
Irreplaceable, both of them. The Doctor’s greatest companion and the man that created Delboy and Rodney.
Another thirty years and I’ll be the same age. Will the next thirty go as quickly as the last thirty? I may not even last that long!
Sorry, getting depressed again…

“The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world, or a relationship… Everything has its time. And everything ends”.
Sarah Jane Smith

Blue lagoons and Bolognese day

A pretty relaxed weekend there except from various painful gymnastic manoeuvres before dinner last night.
After a quick meeting with the Wedding photographer on Saturday morning Ka was out and about again hitting the shops with Beth leaving me to my own devices. My device on this occasion being my iMac with which I was adding more photos to reidnet. Unfortunately I did not get everything finished as various meetings, dinners and movies interfered. Saturday evening we met up with my Mum and Dad as they delivered a bottle of champagne with a wedding gift before they flew off to sunny Turkey. Oludeniz to be precise.
Ka and myself went to Oludeniz for the day when we went to Turkey two years ago. A great little resort on the south coast with beautiful beaches, a fantastic blue lagoon and the whole resort bordered by giant hills and cliffs including the Babadag mountain, popular for cliff jumping opportunities. By that I mean, paragliders of course and not people that want to end it all. The blue lagoon was particularly impressive. A large pool of deep blue circled by the Turkish hills, the nature reserve and the weaving paths through the palm trees running through it. In the Lagoon you could swim a good distance out into the water and still see your feet kicking below you. Far more relaxing than ocean swimming. Especially if, like me, your one of those paranoid swimmers that still grows uneasy after swimming out into the middle of the ocean and realise there's nothing below your feet but the dark, unfathomable ocean life. Your former relaxed self disappearing as you look around urgently for shark fins and blobby jelly fish rising out of the ocean. Images of that severed leg in Jaws drifting down to the rocky sea bed flitting through your mind.
On Sunday we were treated to Dougie's Bolognese special after Morgan put us through some gymnastics in the living room whilst Angela tried on a bridesmaids' dress with Ka upstairs. I certainly would not go to any fitness class run by Morgan after that. Even after a trip to the gym in the morning I was knackered by her maneuvers. Ka's Dad then treated us all to one of his culinary specialities. Bolognese has always been a favourite of mine anyway although my Mum's recipe is better than Dougie's but maybe I'm just biased. Dougie's was great but Mum's is better. Perhaps something to do with her secret ingredient - a glass of red wine (not so secret anymore!). Anyway, I always look forward to a bit of Bolognese. I woke up on the Sunday morning like one of those puppets that advertise pasta sauce on daytime telly:
"It's bolognese day!" I grin as I awake on Sunday.
"It's bolognese day?!" Ka frowns as she opens her eyes.
In Uddingston Dougie shouts excitedly "It's bolognese day!" as he leaps from bed and pulls the bottom tomato from the cupboard of stacked tomatoes.
Grace, in her stookie, shakes her head with a smile as the tomatoes tumble down over Dougie from the cupboard, "Papa always get so excited on Bolognese day!"

Fry and apple tea

Have just sat and watched the second episode of 'Stephen Fry in America' and what a great series it is turning into. Throughout the series he is to visit all 50 states of America, some of them way too briefly but it has proven to be a pretty entertaining watch. Fry is usually pretty honest, witty and interesting in all television projects he has been involved in, so to see him hit the big U. S. of A. has got to be engaging viewing. He's so english he looks quite out of place walking about in some of the situations and surroundings he finds himself in and does not shy away from being blatantly honest infront of the camera. Tonight he was up in a hot air balloon in North Carolina, gliding slowly over the giant tree tops, at first gripping the sides of the basket. No camera work could disguise the guy in a state of absolute fear. He did seem to relax a little as the slow flight continued, however, collecting a few leaves from passing trees. I've always wanted to go up in a hot air balloon. Ka, I'm sure, would say something sarcastic such as 'how fitting' but it's true. I've always fancied it. I'm not great with heights so it's probably not the wisest thing to hanker for but that slow glide through the skies, over a mile above the ground, looks great on tv. In Tenerife I did do some paragliding so it can't be much different can it? Well, it probably is very different and generally much higher but still vaguely similar! The rest of the folk I was on holiday with at the time certainly didn't seem too keen and preferred to sit around the pool side all day. Personally, I hate holidays like that. Why spend a couple of hundred pounds to go abroad, to a different country, only to sit by a pool all day? It's great to walk and soak up the streets, try and experience a bit of the culture, the marketplaces, speak to the people, and just generally learn more about your new surroundings. You just don't get that with an uncomfortable plastic bed and a bottle of sun tan lotion. Don't get me wrong I've ended up in a few dodgy situations before in recent years, the most recent being in Turkey when a 100 year old Shopkeeper trapped in his shop in an effort to make me buy something to gain my release - which of course I did. Ka and myself were walking down from the tombs in Fethiye and in dire need of a drink so we strolled into a small corner shop to see if there was any fanta in the fridge. As we hummed over the contents of the fridge we were aware of a gnarly old man in a white hat, not unlike a very ancient man from Delmonte, getting up from a wooden stool behind the counter and walking round to the front of the shop. Ka and myself turned to see the old man grinning into out faces asking us if we would like a cup of tea. Never one to deny a cup of tea off hand, I considered, as Ka ran out the shop, ducking round another old man that had emerged from the shadows at the back of the shop, who seemed even older than the first, who growled through his tooth. Being a little slow in the uptake, as usual, I sensed danger and doffing my hat made to leave. But the old man sprung forward and almost tripped me with two small plastic crates which he upturned and offered as seats, producing another in between us to act as a table. As Ka and myself hesitantly sat down the second old man offered us some apple tea, which we gingerly accepted. Suddenly the first old man went up to the front of the shop, reached up and flicked a switch. The shop's front shutter shivered into motion and started to close before us. Ka and myself looked at each other in alarm over our apple tea. Grabbing the hat on my head I readied myself for a dive under the descending wall, imagining an Indiana Jones like dive followed by a quick grab of my hat from the ground level of the otherside of my escape. Fortunately the old man stopped the shutter and was only lowering it a little so shield the sun which had been shining in our eyes. How kind. After this Ka and myself drank a few more sips of our, admittedly, rather refreshing apple tea and went on our way, of course, not without a packet of apple tea under our arm, doubled in price thanks to the slightly unsettling table service. Looking back at this as I sip on my apple tea, I'm considering that maybe I'm actually better off just staying at home...