surrealism

Had badminton as usual today. That's not so surreal in itself, but forgetting to actually go to work this morning because I'd convinced myself that I had the day off perhaps was. There were 9 people at badminton. Most of the older players had left by about 11pm so for the last hour or so I played Anushka, a very good player, at singles. At the end of one game, we heard giggling and shrieking coming from down the hallway, and we both stopped and looked at each other in what can only be described as total bewilderment. We took the chance to get some water from the kitchen, and heard the same noises, but closer this time.

Finally, a girl our age appeared from around a blind corner, but I only saw her out the corner of my eye as I turned my back on her, pretending not to notice she was there. Then a bald man with green eyes appeared, and asked if we were staying much longer. We said that we should be done playing by midnight, and he replied, "Oh good, I just have to make the church hall secure, there are some young girls sleeping over here tonight."

As if that passed for a reasonable explanation of why anyone in their right mind would want to sleep in a cold church while it was still freezing outside, he disappeared down the hallway he came from. We began to play our last game, and halfway through, this soft tapping noise came from behind the radiator in the room. We stopped, perplexed, and the noise duly stopped. I shrugged my shoulders and resumed the game. Not ten seconds later, the tapping noise started again. "This is some weird shit," I muttered. We stopped for a second time. The noise stopped yet again. "Right," I said, full of shaky confidence, "let's keep playing." The noise started a third time, but we chose to ignore it.

Finally, we finished that game and packed the badminton equipment away. We put the dry glasses back in the cupboard, locked the door and turned the lights off. On our way out, Anushka cracked a joke about how his car was right by the pavement, so he could just drive off if he wanted. Because of the ice, I had left my car in the church car park. Which wasn't so bad, except that it was immediately next to the dimly lit hallway where the girls and bald man had appeared from. I dismissed these swirling stupid thoughts and marched around the corner to my car. I unlocked it and started scraping the freshly formed frost off the windscreen while the engine ran. But something didn't feel right.

I turned around, and got the shock of my life to find the bald man watching me from behind a curtain. I hastily finished scraping the frost off, threw myself into the car, and slammed and locked all the doors. I flashed my wide beam across the car park. Anushka must have seen it because he pulled up outside the entrance seconds later. I floored it from where the car was parked. He must have got the message, as he turned right and sped away. I followed suit, thinking that the road was gritted, so there would be a reasonable amount of grip. What a totally bizarre and frightening evening...

Bruise. (Oleander)

This might be one of the finest songs in the world... and it's not even on Spotify. Oh, the shame.

She holds her head within her hands
Quietly reeling
If only he could understand
What she's feeling

She moves into me
To kiss my shoulder
With emergency
For me to hold her

It's all I want
When I want
She's all I need
When it's all
It's all I have
When I lose it's just a bruise

He holds his head within his hands
Contemplating
If only she could understand
Without waiting

She moves into me
To kiss my shoulder
With emergency
For me to hold her
Me to hold her

It's all I want
When I want
She's all I need
When it's all
It's all I have
When I lose it's just a bruise

And it's all we've ever known
Every moment
And it's for me I will grow

It's all I want
When I want
She's all I need
When it's all
It's all I have
When I lose it's just a bruise

It's all I want
When I want
She's all I need
She's everything
When it's all
It's all I have
When I lose it's just a bruise

philanthropy

So it's virtually Christmas time again eh? It never ceases to amaze me how quickly time seems to catch me every year. I'm sure it's the same for everyone though. You've packed the decorations and tree away in the loft, thought about clearing off the first round of inevitable bills for the presents everyone wanted, and before you know it, it's February. Then it's time to save up yet again because the MOT and DVLA come a-knocking in March. April is a pleasant month - it gets reasonably warmer, and the new leaves & flowers of the year start growing. From there, it's not long until warm, delightful summer, with the tennis, the Euro/World football, the seemingly endless cool nights, laughter and memories. Autumn is upon you before you're ready to give summer up, then the clocks go back, and then you've got Halloween and Bonfire Night at the start of November. By which time, Christmas is only around the corner again, and you have to start thinking anew of presents. Where does the time go?

It must be one of the biggest ironies of my life thus far that the more I age, the less control I wield (apparently) over my own destiny. It already feels like I have been shoehorned into this soul-destroying, idea-killing, freedom-stomping machine we all call and know as retail. But this wasn't the plan at all, if I remember rightly. Somewhere trapped inside of me is an articulate, intelligent man with two of the highest academic qualifications crying out for a real, meaningful job. And somewhere between 2006 and now it's all gone pear-shaped. Dead-end retail jobs aren't supposed to be the bedfellows of newly-crowned graduates. I would kill to be at a level most of my friends from high school are currently at. They have better jobs, better salaries, girlfriends, their own property. I couldn't even lay claim to possessing one of these four tenets of happiness.

So what, you ask? Why don't you get off your arse and do something about it? Well, it's not quite as easy as that. Admittedly, I haven't helped myself by picking a pig of an industry to operate in, (music) but it would still have been heartening to find at least some vacancies or suitable jobs. A lot of people over the last three years have roundly assumed that my lack of a decent job is somehow synonymous with a lack of effort or determination on my part. You can get it if you really want. Never give up. Try, try and try again. A veritable collection of frequently spouted cliches gets hurled at me from every angle.

It was never my aim or objective in life to become so cynical about life's little ways and means, but my circumstances have rapidly causing me to re-evaluate what life could and should offer me. It's all very well your family and friends consoling you with thoughts that things will get better... but...um, what if they don't? What if there isn't a happy ending? This isn't a Disney film. This is reality. Bad things can, and do, happen to good people. You and I see it every day, in every city, in every country. On the news, in glorious high definition. On the radio, a crackling androgynous voice recanting the death toll from the latest disaster. Again, a lot of people assume that I must be inherently negative. I would prefer to term myself a realist. Why can't reality be negative in itself? It's not that I'm a manic depressive - far from it. I am still capable of responding to generosity and thoughtfulness from others, but I don't experience this very often.

As The Offspring somewhat cheesily sang on Americana, 'I am a product of my environment'. Nothing more, nothing less.

Badminton, ramiya's birthday, recovering from much drinkage

So the last few days have been quite eventful. Lets start with Friday night. I go down to Harrow Leisure Centre around 7.30pm as you do. Play a few games with the uncles and aunties of the B-team. Then I join the more capable A-team around 9. Usually I lose around 60-70% of the A-team games I play. But this was a night and a half. I was in electric form! Imagine Thierry Henry in the form he was in during the Arsenal 03/04 Invincible season. That kind of form. I was unstoppable!I ended up winning 3 out of the 3 doubles matches.

Saturday afternoon, Liverpool lost 2-0 to Porstmouth. Thats my 50p accumulator gone down the drain after just 1 game played. Then Man Utd lose to Fulham, wooohoooo!

Bring on Saturday night for Ramiya's birthday party at Digress Bar, a fantastic venue. I bought a £5 smirnoff vodka bottle (cheaper than a double vodka and coke). Managed to wash that down with a can of coke, and I was buzzing. Got down to Digress, saw Haran, Vinod, Nivan, Shobana, Meera, Sinduja and of course the birthday girl Ramiya. Then the others reeled in. Rajeivan, Vani, Nirupy, Ramesh, brother-in-law Arpan, sister Janani, Nish, Anthony, Sam, Ahilan, Indu, Sindhu, Kajarooban and Suwetha.

It was a party and a half I tell ya! Thanks in part to the vodka and coke I glugged earlier on. (I apologize to everyone for my drunken behavior). I was giving out my business cards left, right and centre. Here's an example of how I met one of Ramiya's King's medic mates.

"Hi, I'm Mark"
"Hi, I'm Janahan, here's my business card." (gives the business card) "I'm a musician"

It was great to see Ahilan, Indu, Sam, Sindhu and Nish. You guys rocked! I ended up dancing the night away, getting a cab home with Nirupy, Ramesh and Rajeivan. I recall drunkenly telling Ramesh about my gambling antics. But I reckon he already knew.

Anyways, a final thank you to Ramiya for the great party. And Meera and Ramesh for the kick-up-the-arse talks.

Black Sheep, sleep, work, sleep, badminton xmas meal, house party, Lizzie

Totally frenetic weekend just gone and I'm absolutely exhausted! Bob was around on Friday night after I finished my shift at work. He came over from Harrow to go to the Black Sheep with me, but the situation was made needlessly complicated by the trains from his end not running to Sutton. By the time he had figured out an alternative way to get to West Croydon from London Bridge, I had got home, showered, changed, had dinner, and got to Sutton. Luckily I had managed to catch the 2nd last train out of Sutton, getting there for about midnight.

It was freezing when we arrived at Sheep, and luckily there was no queue to get in. Disturbingly, I'm starting to think that the Sheep's biometric fingerprinting is actually rather cool, whereas a couple of years ago it seemed like unnecessary prying. Almost immediately after arriving, we'd set ourselves up near a group of three girls, one of whom Bob claims was "looking at me in an interested way several times." This does of course illustrate the level and depth of Bob's judgment, as when I asked her if she wanted to dance, she fobbed me off with "sorry, I've already got a bf."

A while later, something surreal happened. Bob was busy getting himself a snake bite, a smaller (younger?) girl came trotting up to me and introduced herself as Harriet. She then wrapped her arms around me and hugged herself against me in a totally flirtatious way, before murmuring, "you've got a nice hug", after which she vanished back into the crowd. Now if I was any other guy in the world I would have already committed to memory what such a hot, confident girl would look like. But oh no, not Jamie. I was so drunk by this point that I had completely forgotten what she even looked like. No phone number, not zip. Tragic.

We stayed at the Sheep until they closed, about 4.15am. By then, of course, the hot girls had been snapped up, and the place was rapidly turning into a meatfest. So we took the only sensible course of action, which was a cab home. (Thank you TFL for stopping the N213!) Bob had to be back at the train station by 8.30, so we had just under 4 hours sleep. We walked down there in the biting morning cold, and I picked the car up from where I parked it just hours before. Then it was back home for a quick coffee, and off to work...

...which was a total snoozefest. After work came a quick couple of hours' kip, and then it was off to the Badminton Xmas Meal at the Mint, in Banstead. Much hilarity when everyone arrived, as the Mint had apparently lost our orders and had no idea what everyone wanted to eat. Luckily, the club president Neil had kept a photocopy of our options. I had the roasted stuffed mushrooms to start (anyone who knows me in the slightest will testify that this is unbelievable!) followed by a traditional main course of roast turkey, pig in blanket, sage & onion stuffing, veg, and gravy, with Christmas pudding for dessert.

I have to say that I really enjoyed the Christmas meal a lot more than I thought I would. This sort of social occasion has, in the past, gotten a bad image from some of the other players at the club - an old player called Stan mentioned that the last time he went, hardly anyone talked to him, and he felt frozen out. However, everyone I talked to was unfailingly polite. This could be because the Christmas meal is almost entirely attended by Monday night players only. As Stan plays on the other two nights at the club, he wouldn't know anyone in any real depth or have much to talk about with them. For about a year now, I have been playing all three nights in an attempt to improve my game and learn from my mistakes. It seems that this determination has been bearing fruit, as I am no longer losing mixed or mens doubles games with scorelines like 21-4 or 21-5, and feel more confident and capable of holding my own against some of the better players. Quite a lot of the Monday players have been extremely generous in their praise of my improvement too, which is very heartening and pleasing.

After the Christmas meal came the Cranes Park house party in Surbiton! I was in quite a rush to pick up some cheap beer from the supermarket before I made my way over there. In any case, I needed to pick up 'twat nav' and an oversized bottle of Ouzo from home as it had been a while since I was last there. The party seemed quite casual when I arrived, but someone explained that there were a whole load of other musicians coming down after a nearby concert at St John's Church had finished. As it turned out, none of these extra guests showed up, so the party didn't actually get into full swing.

There was a piano and huge guitar amp in the living room, with loads of other musical gear everywhere - as you've probably guessed being the home of four musicians. Fordie was playing New Born when I arrived, but he gave up after awhile. I sat down and began an impromptu rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody which accumulated a massive singalong of some 15 drunk people! This was followed by Don't Stop Me Now and Summer of '69. It was just like one of our band practices at uni, with a slightly sinister undertone as I was in Dee's house this time. Finally, someone produced an iPhone and plugged it into the guitar amp. This allowed us to pick up the Spotify Premium application, which was very innovative! I introduced a few of the others to Sky Larkin, and they seemed quite impressed.

I got talking to a cute girl called Lizzie and somehow miraculously managed to get her phone number off her. Even more miraculously, she asked for mine! She was complimentary on my piano skills and said that she'd only ever learnt one piece, Greensleeves. I think I babbled some inane reply, along the lines of 'well that's a fairly good first piece to learn, most people learn Happy Birthday or something!' She works with Steph at Next, is still at Surbiton High finishing off her A levels, and intends to study history at college/uni. At the moment, I am trying to see if she's up for drinkage sometime in the week. As Danny Devito's character might have said in L.A. Confidential: "When I know more, dear reader, so will you. Off the record, on the QT, and very hush hush!"

The Colour of Tea

Anyone seen 'The colour of money'? The film with Paul Newman and Tom Cruise. Its about an ex hustler who teaches a pool player the tricks and the trade of being a pool hustler.

Well I've come up with a blurb for my story/book/novel. Its called 'The Colour of Tea'. Its about a man named Kuniga Qualer. The name came to me randomly last year.

BLURB:

Kuniga Qualer, an immigrant from Nigeria, has arrived in London. He has finally come to the capital of all capitals. But he is not happy. He is alone, clueless, seemingly afraid of what lies ahead.

His main aim? To find work, gain a life, but most importantly, look for his real family. With the help of an ex-CIA agent Max Caldwell and MI6 operative Francesca Gabriella, we follow him through his mission from the roads of Europe to the deserts of Africa. Can he track down his siblings before it is too late?

Career crisis? What do you think?

I thought I'd write a bit more about my current status.

I'm 24. I have no job, no degree, no money. My highest qualifications are A-levels. I do have the option to restart the 2nd year of a Mathematics and Finance course at City University. Another bright spark: I have plenty of work experience. I've worked in a bank, a few call centres and a hotel. My experience is predominantly telesales and customer service.

My most ideal, realistic role would be a cashier at a bank. And eventually I can work myself up the career ladder. From cashier via customer service advisor, personal banker to manager. Some people tell me to follow my passion. Music. I've been learning/playing Indian classical flute for nearly 17 years. I have experience in performing at several concerts in London, ranging from Beck Theatre, Winston Churchil Hall to Hammersmith Palais and Royal Albert Hall.

I could be a professional flutist if I wanted to. I can be my own boss. Perform at weddings, receptions, parties, you name it. I could teach beginners. I could join a band. I could release an album. I could become one of the top musicians in the world given the chance.

Alas, I'm not going to limit myself to a bank job or being a musician. I'm still exploring the possibilities. Driving instructor, administrator, police officer (my best mate's in the force), IT developer, salesman, estate agent, financial advisor. These are serious career prospects that I'm considering. You notice that I've left out, debatably, four (of what I consider) top jobs. Doctor, lawyer, accountant, engineer. The majority of my friends (as they are Sri Lankan) will stereotypically follow a career path in any of those four roles.

However, I'm not going to follow that traditional route. After much thought and consideration, if I were given the chance, I would have a predominantly full time career in finance during the week, and a part time music career for the weekends. Now what do you think of that?