What's happening, man?

So what's going on? What am I doing? Why the hey-diddle-diddle haven't I written anything more than photographic captions lately? Who shot JFK? Or JR? Or was it the same person or just a dream? Well, gather round, friends, and I shall tell you a tale to strike your hearts and lift your spirits to the heavens! No, not really, but I am sure none of you will report me to the Advertising Standards Authority. If your finger's hovering over that button, then shame on you!

What's going on? Well, it seems that when you're stuck waiting until a certain date passes, you can get a bit drained of energy, listless, stuck in a rut, repetitive, Pete, stop saying the same thing over and over. In short, I have plans, but Christian Aid Week is coming up, and I am really just waiting for it to be over. What is Christian Aid Week? Well, it's a special time in a young man's life when – er, it's a week when people stick a leaflet through your door, then come back the next day and you either give them money, say no or pretend that they never stuck anything through your door. In that last eventuality, I think those people assumed we had a vast cohort of distributors and collectors, rather than it being me and about four other people covering 800 addresses. For those of you not so good at calculation, let me say that 800 divided by me, Mum and no other volunteers this year equals this is the last year we're doing it!

Don't get me wrong. It's a good cause. It is a charitable and good thing to do. But next year I mean to have a job. I'm not making Mum do it! I won't have time to do it: 800 addresses, remember! So it's a mathematical certainty. The long and short of it is that it will eat up this whole coming week. Delivery is a cinch, er, well, it can be done at any time of day. Collection means turning up when people are likely to be in. So that's after 5, through to maybe 8pm. In any case, you will catch people having their dinner, who will a) be thrilled to be interrupted and b) ask you to come back in ten minutes, when you've got a tight schedule so as to complete a crazy workload. I'm not condemning them. But note the incompatibility of doing anything mutually helpful here. We can't turn up at a time good for them because we have so few people. I could write another few paragraphs on that topic, and convince you that it was driving me crazy, because you'd misinterpret it, you foolish child. That's yours truly sliding into playful silliness again, not me having a dig at you. ;-)

The thing is, I can't do anything until that's done. When it's done, I am going to put on full sail and run before the wind, if that's the right expression. It's a while since I last read Patrick O'Brian or C. S. Forester, so do forgive errors of naval terminology by this landlubber. I am writing this because I was chatting earlier to a guy who was feeling down. I think I helped cheer him up a bit, and in geeing him up, I did the same to myself. I have nothing more than a vague plan: get a job to get money to spend on stuff. And get fit and thin again. But right now I've no job, no money and no stuff to do. Horse-riding, for instance, is just about the most fun you can have, but it's not free. So I have the following: read a book, poke the internet, exercise at home, watch a film while painting some models. If you're reading this, you know how distracting t'interwebs can be. You sit down, then you're thinking, “Goldarn it, you rootin', tootin' varmint! Gimme back the last two hours!” Well, if you're a time-travelling nineteenth-century prospector, you do. Probably. Maybe. Shut up.

“So, Pete, what's happening, baby?” Why're you talking like you're Austin Powers? “That's not my bag, baby!” Ohhhhhhhhh-kay. I am waiting on Dan getting back to me about something. I thought Rahul was coming up last weekend, but I think he got sabotaged by co-workers being sick. I saw N&B the other day, and we watched a film (Breakfast at Tiffany's – watch it if you haven't seen it, because it's great.) and had a lovely dinner! Thanks, B! Previously, I saw D at the weekend, and met Aidan, who is a great chap! I left some films there, forgot to go back, and so couldn't watch Predator the other day. D'oh! No time to pick stuff up this week, so I'll just have to mumble “Geeerrt to theee choo-purrr!” to tide myself over. “She said the jungle came alive and took him.” :-D

“What next, Pete, you fascinating man?” I am awesome, I admit. So next I need to talk to Dan about this thing, then to Rahul about Amsterdam – whither we are (I think) going at the end of the month – and then I'm having a barbecue here mid-June. After that, I have no clue what's happening. I do mean to visit Martin and Kat. They're not a couple, but both live down south. Probably scores of miles apart, but South is South! Exeter, London, it's all the same. I did mean to go to Ireland and climb some hills in a few months, but that's money-dependent, and I have none, so that's out the window for now. It's on a bit of string, so if I win a million pounds, I'll go do it. In all likelihood, though . . .

So in the short term I shall put up a banner outside my church, deliver nearly a thousand envelopes and then collect them again. Then count up all the money, itemised by road, and then put it in the bank where it will pay for good causes. Hang on. That's a socially responsible thing to do. I'd better mention that at any interviews I do. Ooh, the Pharisees, they have had their reward. Oh, well, it's really only walking, pushing, clasping and adding up. It doesn't really deserve a reward. So, yeah – as they say. Some light manual labour, a fair whack of walking, and then lots of spare time in the mornings and afternoons. Look forward to more from me now I have got my groove back, you funky people.