Right in Front of Me

I suppose that I always feel that the longest day of the year is the most important of the milestones that we use to mark the passage of time. Whether it feels like the start of the long descent into a dark and dreary winter or the beginning of a warm an pleasant summer is a metaphor for the passing of another year and the state of one's life.

For 2026, I don't yet feel as if I have a handle on which way I think it's all going. We've been here in Ramsey for about ten months now and I think I can truly say that I am settled into life in the busier surroundings of the town. There is something quite satisfying about being able to walk down to the Co-Op when the sun is shining, even if it's somewhere close to my walkable limit right now, particularly if I'm going to carry shopping.

I mentioned in the last post a little about my enjoyment of the view from my window and this continues to draw my eye far more than it should. It's bordering on a distraction, but I'm only reaching for the camera - actually, usually my phone - when the sun is low in the sky.

The best view is the one you both look at and appreciate. My yardstick for this is now simply the view that I can be bothered to take a picture of. Ramsey, looking north-west is apparently one of these views.

An Office With a View

 

At some point in the last six months, things just began to click into place. I can't say that I ever missed being in Jurby per se, but for a while I did feel truly out-of-place. Slowly, however, that seems to be changing. Now, this little apartment on the edge of town is becoming home. Even more surprising is that my brother seems to feel the same.

For me in particular, a great deal of the reason for this has to be the view. It is, honestly, something we really didn't have in Jurby, despite the possibilities. In many ways, my two office views are similar. Both look out of a bedroom/office over the rooftops.

In Jurby, however, that view was of close bungalow roofs and only the sky beyond. There wasn't much to see out of the window, apart from the odd gull, rook or pigeon.

Here, in Ramsey, that is totally different. I still see the rooftops of the bungalows opposite, but here I'm high enough up that the view is of the whole of town, or so it seems on a bright and clear day. You don't really get to see the movements of people in the town, but you get a real sense of what the day is like. Trees blow in the wind, the mist closes in as the rain falls and the roofs get dusted with snow on those rare days when we actually have some.

The sea is tantalisingly just out of direct view. I need to stand in the lounge window and look out to the right to see a bit of the Pier and the bay, but even that minor detraction doesn't bother me anymore.

It's dynamic and interesting in a way that the view in Jurby just wasn't able to be. Now, if only I can manage to not let it distract me from either work or writing!

Safari 2024 - Trip Report

So, the 2024 safari to Rwanda and Tanzania is now over and we are all safely back home. It is, as usual, time to complete my trip report and start work on the book of the trip. As always, this is a fairly long and involved process, made simpler by my writing more than ten thousand words while away. I'm working on the final layout of the large-format book and, as I am still in the process of working on the whole series as a set of paperbacks, I am working on that version at the same time.

Each report gets longer and more rambling than the last and I should apologise for that in advance. I've broken it into what I hope are logical sections and it is all at the link on the right or by following this link HERE.

Romance and Love. Heartbreak and Heartache.

Romance

I've been reading a lot of romance lately. I don't know what started this change in my reading genre - possibly Heartstopper - but I actually enjoy a good love story now and I'm clearly not ashamed to admit it. Also, rather unsurprisingly, there's a lot of really good gay romance out there to be read. Now, some of it - quite a lot really - gets a bit steamy (well actually really steamy), but I'm okay with that too from time to time. Some of it is a bit to "angsty" for my liking, but you have to take books one at a time - not all will be to your taste. Just like most people though, I do love a happy ending!

The best part is that there's loads of it available for free - or for cheap - on sites such as Tapas.

Aromantic

I do think it's odd though, that I like reading about love and romance, as I don't really relate all that well to the whole romantic attraction thing. Thinking about it, I begin to wonder if I should class myself as "aromantic". That's one of the meanings for the A in LGBTQIA+ - the other being asexual, which I'm definitely not.

Like every term on the queer spectrum, being aromantic can be a matter of degree. Most people, myself included, are not totally one thing or another. I'm most comfortable these days defining my sexual orientation as gay, but for a time I preferred bisexual, as I do have some attraction to the opposite sex - just much more towards men than women. Being aromantic isn't an orientation and can mean different things to different people and isn't an all or nothing state of being. See HERE. 

So, for me, I can and do feel physical - or sexual - attraction, even though I don't feel it strongly and never really had a crush on anyone as a teen. I don't, or at least only very slowly, feel any kind of  emotional attraction or romantic feelings for someone, even if the physical attraction is there.

Coming back to fictional romance, I can now see why some of the protagonists have a hard time with that big declaration of love. Saying "I love you" in a romantic situation is a big deal for many, and possibly an even bigger thing for someone who is - knowingly or not - aromatic.

Love

When I first told someone that I loved him, it was because I though I was losing him. I told him that I loved him as a way to make him understand how I was feeling - of course - but, also, as a way to articulate what I though I was losing. Now, I know he didn't feel the same way, but for me, even thinking about our relationship in terms of love was something of a difficult concept to grasp.

We'd been in our comfortable, fairly casual, mostly uncommitted physical relationship for a couple of years. I really hate the term "friends with benefits", but in some ways that does describe what we had fairly well. When he decided he wanted to step back from the physical side of our relationship - he wanted to be straight (or at least thought he did at the time) and was going to date a girl - I spiralled because I though I would lose my friend as well. It actually took me a while to realize that I was actually in love with him and he was breaking my heart by - in my mind - abandoning me and what I thought we had.

Heartbreak

Alfred, Lord Tennyson may have been genuine in his feelings when he wrote " 'Tis better to have loved and lost" when speaking about the sudden loss of a dear friend, but most scholars accept that he was talking about brotherly love, not romantic love. That's "brotherly love" in the sense of friends and family.

Whatever Tennyson thought, having one's heart broken is a very real and painful thing. I took more than two years to recover to any real degree. I needed therapy and I needed medication, to deal with the associated depression and anxiety. This despite the fact that we soon returned to our normal friendly, beneficial relationship status.

I had taken years to fall in love with him - or at least, years to realize that I loved him - and only moments to have my heart broken by him. There is no blame here. He said and did what he felt was best for himself - and maybe even for me - at the time. I cannot and do not blame him for being him.

Our relationship was never quite the same afterwards. We still sometimes needed each other physically, but we just seemed a little distant. Very slowly, we drifted further apart and finally just stopped even contacting one-another for several years.

When we did, after a long break, finally talk to each other again, it was a very different dynamic and it was clear that much had changed between us. He was gay, out, open and in a long-term relationship. I was still me. It is possible to still be friends after being more, but it really is difficult and almost seems to be too - I want to say tentative, strained, anxious - forced. He did make me realize that it was okay to be gay though and that helped greatly with my own decision to come out and be more comfortable with myself.

Heartache

So, I might be aromantic, but given time - and, of course, the right person - I can feel love and be in love with someone. Sadly, that also means that I can have my heart broken.

Heartbreak turns into heartache in time. For me, just as I was so slow to love, so am I slow to recover and the heartache remains - perhaps for all time - as a dully remembered pain deep inside my chest. Sometimes, the related depression wells back up to the surface and, perhaps for a few days when the nights are long, dark and lonely, I feel the heartache more strongly and struggle to think of the good times rather than the bad.

The worst part is that, having loved, I now miss the feeling. Even if, for me, the feeling can take so long to develop, I sometimes wish I could feel love for someone again. All my other anxieties and fears make this highly unlikely - I'm never going to get out there and socialize, am I - but now I have a few nice romance novels to lose myself in when the need arises.

Tennyson may have been right, but a part of me still thinks that, if I had never fallen in love with someone, I wouldn't now have to live forever with the heartache of losing him. And, sometimes, randomly, it does still hurt - and I hate that!

Therapy is HARD

This is one of the hardest posts I've written in some time. Any that are tagged as self therapy or mental wellbeing are deeply personal and emotionally draining. I'm afraid that that's the point of what makes them therapeutic. The writing process here gets this stuff out of my system and, ultimately, I find this helpful. even if no-one reads them, I still have the knowledge that I bared my soul to some degree.

Writing about this man who played such a big part in my emotional and physical life is also hard. I'm very conscious of not saying too much and have even gone back and forth for several days now, unsure of whether to post or delete this. Wellington may have said "Publish and be Damned!", but I don't seek damnation or notoriety. I don't just write a stream of consciousness and press post. I, hopefully, pick my words carefully.

Very few people even know that there was anything more than a friendship there and no-one knew at the time. There doesn't need to be a name here. It's not my place to say. If he happens to read this, I hope he understands that it's a commentary and not a condemnation.

Tanzania 2023 Trip Report

As always, there is a comprehensive report on my latest Safari trip to Africa. It's been more than three years since the last one and I've worked hard to get this one done quickly.

I found it a very hard trip - I am older every time after all - but much of that was soon overcome by some fantastic mammal and bird sightings. As a big bonus, the camera and lens that I'd worried so much about spending a small fortune on worked wonderfully and helped me capture some of the best pictures I've ever managed.

Follow the link to start reading: Tanzania 2023

(Note: I updated the text on 8/3/23 to bring it in line with my master for the upcoming paperback version and the version available on Blurb.com)

Tests and Trials of Life - Paths and Choices

A Basic Philosophy

It seems to me - and it has taken me a long time to realize this - that life is just a series of trials that you have to pass in order to be happy. Everyone is different and some people cope with these trials better than others. I think I'm one of those who struggles with every one of them, but seems to get there in the end.

Life - a series of endless binary choices.

Learning by Trial and Error

As a child, you have limited scope to manage the changes in your life, as most of them are outside your control and the trials and upheavals you face are mostly only faced by going with the flow. I don't know if I had a difficult childhood or not - looking back now, I think I was happy more than I was sad which can't be too bad.

The trials were there though. Losing Dad was something I've never managed to shake off. I never really got to know him, but remember enough to miss him and think about him often - saddened by the fact that I'm now the only member of my family to remember him at all. Even though I was only four, that day is etched in my memory and fundamentally changed the course of my life forever.

Life does go on, though, and Mum meeting someone who I am now proud to call Dad - he has done the job for almost 50 years after all without complaint - lead to us leaving the Island for a time and having a new life in Salford. This came with a whole set of new trials - trying to make new friends and fit in to a place where I was the odd one out with the strange accent and parochial, country kid outlook.

I don't think I made any friends in my time there really. I was isolated, still grieving, shy, nervous and self-absorbed. I was often drifting through my own fantasy worlds and just let the real world pass me by. I was moody, aggressive and a real handful for my teachers, but they showed a level of patience and understanding that I didn't realize was there at the time. I was bullied for my isolation and lashed out at anyone who tried to help. Was there a hint of my sexuality in all of that, even at that age? Well, with hindsight, perhaps a little.

So, I faced the trials of being "Away" and made many errors in how I faced them. Only by taking these wrong turns can you hope to learn the right path. There's no Satellite Navigation for Life!

Coming Home

One of the big reasons for our return to the Isle of Man when I was eleven was for me to be able to go to a better school than was possible in Salford. But, for me, this was just another set of trials to be faced. I'd been away long enough to have been forgotten by the few friends I had made at school here years before and just had to start all over again. Once more I was the unknown new boy - maybe not as bad when the Grammar School has an intake from so many different junior schools, but there still. Now I once more had a different accent - I never lost my Manx one totally, but it has been softened by those five years away from the Island and is now fairly neutral north-west England. My vowels are shorter than I remember they once were for example.

I never really did make friends - well I don't think so anyway - I hung out with mates, but we've never kept in touch and most of them moved away. I certainly didn't have relationships -  I'm not sure I even ever had a crush on anyone at school, although it was sometimes fun to watch the struggles of others.

Still, you cope and you make mistakes, getting some trials wrong and some trials right, learning to understand the system and how to navigate better. And boy, did I make some big mistakes. I may not have been forgiven for them, but I feel I have paid for them and moved on.

The Fear Factor

I've said before that I didn't want to go to University. Sure, I could have tried hard and worked more and done so if I wanted to, but I would never have coped with the first day and deep down I knew it. It can be really difficult to explain just how powerful this anxiety about new things can be, but I'm going to try and do so here.

Just imagine I've had a phone call from a new customer - out of the blue they've been given my number by someone else and told I'm the "Computer Expert" who can solve their problem. No worries!

Well, actually, there are a whole big bowl of worries right there!

• Where do they live?
• Will I find the house?
• Will I be on time?
• Can I fix the problem?
• And on and on...?

This list bounces around in my head from the moment the call ends until I arrive at their door, building and growing into a cacophony of fear and dread. This fear is real - not quite on the level of the lion roaring in the darkness just metres away - but gut-wrenching, sweat-inducing, adrenaline-pumping fear. The full-on panic attack is only moments away and I have had them a few times over the years.

Now, this is just another trial, one that has to be faced and overcome like any other. And, I do overcome these trials. It isn't easy, but it does get a little easier as each trial passes. It never goes away though and it clouds my life with a thin veil of permanent anxiety. The fear of change forces us onto the path of isolation and the safety of doing the same thing every day.

The Working World

I left school at 18 into a world of massive unemployment, social unrest (more in the UK than here!) and rampant inflation. I struggled for a couple of years and eventually Mum sent me to see the RSM at the army camp because they needed a boilerman urgently. It took me almost ten minutes to step over the threshold of the office block, but I knew that this was just another trial and I had to pass this one.

Five minutes later I was working at my first real job. (Thanks Brian, but I know you were desperate!) Within a few years I was in the Civil Service and learning to drive, but even then I hated the monotony of working for someone and am happier now working for myself and keeping my own timetable. I am lazy - I do the minimum to be content - even if I sometimes have to work 14-hour days to be lazy the next. So, I have that part of my life sorted - apart from the anxiety of every call-out and work visit of course!

Meeting People

This may seem obvious, but in my chosen profession, I get to meet lots of people. I get on with people - I talk too much, but I like to think I'm nice and kind and considerate so that balances out. I do like to have friends, but I also know it is hard for them to get to that position. They have to make the effort to be a friend because I just can't take that step. The few people who are my friends know who they are and I'm grateful for them all.

Meeting Someone

I'm going to be a little vague here - not because I have no memory of events, but rather because what started out as a secret relationship is still mostly a secret, even though we haven't been together for years and we are both now safely and happily out of our closets.

What do you do when a cute guy - much younger, more gregarious and confident than you - wants to hang out with you with a work related pretext. Well, I didn't know what you do, but I think I really wanted to find out.

I was told, when I came out, that it was obvious I was gay. Well, some people could see it was obvious, apparently even when I couldn't see it in my self, and some people were totally surprised by it. This guy could, I think, see this too. I knew him from work, setting up the computer for his family, so, sure we could spend a little time together if he wanted to. I'd be happy to help with his work and college stuff if I could.

Anyway, we spent some time together and then a little more time not really working - you know, watching a movie, going for a drive and a walk with me taking my camera - the social stuff I never normally did. That watching TV would be usually at my place, in my room with a massive projection TV at the foot of the bed. It's just where it was, no hidden agenda. I guess that's how it is though. You're getting on well and - with hindsight - things are a little flirty between you - nervous but flirty!

So, I could tell he was gay and clearly he could tell I was gay. Well, in that case, there's no harm in watching a romance on the TV - is there? And yes, one thing does lead to another - not necessarily right away or in a giant leap of passion, but the path is there to be taken. I was clearly attracted to him, but I'm not sure I understood that at the start - after all, I'd never really been attracted to anyone before.

I think I settled into the role of a gay person much easier than he did - although I still wanted no-one to know. I'm a bit bisexual, but much prefer men to women and prefer the label of gay now. He was young enough to not be sure and I was strangely happy to let him find out in his own way at his own pace. In some ways, he tried his best to break my heart, but for almost ten years we kept coming back to spend time with each other in a kind of comfortable never-quite-close-enough-for-me relationship.

I loved him - and I told him so - but he never really felt quite that deeply about me and we eventually just stopped communicating for about four years. I think, perhaps, that he was ready to accept himself and come out of his closet and feared that I wouldn't be able to do the same or that I would be outed by accident because of him. I hold no grudges and few regrets. This is another trial of life that must be passed or failed. I didn't fight for him because deep down I knew that I wouldn't win. Perhaps I failed this test, but I like to think that I just managed to scrape a pass. We are, I think, still friends and that is perhaps the most important indicator that I did pass this particular test.

Keeping It All Together

If there is a reason for this rambling post, it is a fairly simple one. I find the act of writing this stuff down cathartic. It makes me feel better to get it "off my chest" and out of my head. These days I do that by writing, mostly because I enjoy it, but also because I hope that perhaps one person's experiences can help another person to understand a situation better. Once, in the past, this sort of stuff would be written in a private, secret, journal or diary, but I'm too modern for that and my handwriting is bloody awful after writing thousands of vehicle logbooks before they were computerized.

When I had to see a psychiatrist - yes the depression and heartbreak can get that bad - she was perceptive enough to see that I would be best served by being told how to analyse and help myself. Of course, she listened to me and encouraged me to talk about my feelings as well, but you only get so much of their time and the anti-depressant drugs only help take the edge off. She told me to read some stuff, try some NLP (I never did), recognise your mood and take action to stem the negative thoughts.

So, that's what I do - in my own way.

That's why, when I was feeling so bad about being secretly gay, I knew the only way to fix it was to come out and stop worrying about it. I wasn't seeing anyone and I could keep it to myself, but knew I needed to say it out loud. It was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do - and there have been some very hard things in the last 50+ years - but I did feel instantly better for it. Thank you Enid and Michael for being there to hear it first and not judge!

When I have thoughts that won't go away, I drop them onto a keyboard and they fly out of my head and into the world where they can't harm me any more. There isn't a cure for mental illness. There is only management and control, but that can be enough to leave you happy.

Also, if you can't fix it, don't worry about it!

Out of Lock-down

There are some experiences that, perhaps, one would hope to never have to go through. As an island community, the Isle of Man has come through the COVID-19 pandemic better than many other places. Any island nation has the option - as we did here - to close the border and then tackle the pathogen on our own terms. This is a process that has worked for our island and several other places around the world.

It can be easy to criticise the political and governmental structure with the power of hindsight, but I have to say, not without a little reluctance from force of habit, that our government did as well as one could expect when difficult circumstances were changing and developing rapidly. They didn't get everything right and that's actually okay. No-one can, or should, expect a perfect response during such a crisis and there will always be mistakes made as the information available changes.

So, things are returning to some level of normality. My sister and her family are back on the island after their necessary exile to the UK. Shops are open and businesses are starting to resume normal operations.

I'm back at work and doing more-or-less the same thing as before. I tried - despite the debilitating attack of sciatica that plagued me for almost two months at the start of lock-down - to keep myself busy and productive. I managed some programming, did a few remote assistance calls and tried to not resort to endless TV or YouTube.

I also finally got the time to write the detailed travelogue that I always promised myself would be done one day. In 45,000 words, I've written the story of my eight trips to Africa over the last dozen years. I'm now in the final process of reviewing the proof copies before self-publishing the volume through lulu.com. The plan, at the moment, is to release a paperback version - with over 100 b/w photos - in 320 pages. because of the photos, this will end up being priced at around £25. Because this is a lot for a book, I'm also looking at doing a text-only version that should be able to be much more sensibly priced. This will also make it easier to produce an e-reader compatible version for kindle and ipad in the near future.

If you want to keep up with progress on the publishing of this book, and also about my travels and other book projects, then you can find out more at my publishing site.