So...This future milarky?

Sitting in yet another pitifully pointless teleconference meeting yesterday and the weight of my future came crashing down upon me. Could I possibly spend the rest of my life, more importantly the next 6 months living this existence, desk bound and mentally atrophied without the promise of something else?

Not a fucking hope in hell. So with nothing short of choosing the direction in which my life is going to take, I set about formulating a plan in which I could realise everything that I want out of life; nothing too intimidating then. So after much sleep deprivation and in chronological order my results are:

1) Buy a substantial quantity of elwire and fashion it into an impressive portfolio of clothing, jewelry and accessories. Create a website touting my wares. Glow like a motherfucking king.

2) Finish the interior of the boat, employ someone with skills to ensure quality of workmanship that I just cannot attain. Stop living like a DIY guinea pig.

3) Gain secondary income to secure enough funds for traveling, through selling el-wire derived products or more likely working a second job. Kiss goodbye to weekends and evenings.

4) Sell the Youthful Indiscretion, order a new 60ft x 11ft widebeam sail-away canal boat to be ready upon return from traveling. Use money from Youthful Indiscretion to finance. Pray I get a decent price.

5) Travel the world and finally accomplish the goal I set myself 10 years ago. Meet new people, gain fresh perspective, score cheap knock off clothing. Don't die!

6) Return home for rent free living and locate some land in which to park the new boat. Plan carefully and in detail all work that will need to be done. Work on the boat during the day and take night time employment for funds. Spend more time in B&Q than the pub.

7) Complete the boat, ship it to Edinburgh and moor her as near the city centre as possible, having previously put name on appropriate waiting list. Live onboard whilst trying to sell her and fabricate as many el-wire goodies as possible. Lap Edinburgh up with a big metaphorical spoon.

8) Sell boat, pay off debt and purchase a van/bus. Kit vehicle out for living aboard using skills previously acquired. Live in and travel around festivals selling my el-wire wares from my geodesic dome. Become a blinky GOD!

9) Move down south, secure accommodation (use van/ bus in short term) and gain employment. Build a social life that revolves around those I love and take more of an active role in the Euroburning community. Revel in the soft southern clime.

10) Start new list.

Figure that should keep me busy for a couple of years and steering my life in the direction that I would ideally like it to take. No chance in hell fate will be kind enough and let me get away with such rigid planning, but I shall endeavor to adapt and stick to the program.

Thoughts?

Important Points

1) It is possible to enjoy cereal using water instead of milk in an emergency. A small caveat should be attached however to say that this depends solely on what cereal we are talking about and the standard of the water; London water would taste pish on anything. A thick coating of sugar can remedy the situation but this approach tends to be applicable in most situations.

2) I found a sock in my drawer that states "I love my dog" and includes a picture of said dog. This clearly does not belong to me and left me with a sense of serious disquiet imagining socks globally trading places with each other leaving there owners in possession of a medley of odd socks. Now if theses errant socks can swap places through space, what is to stop them conquering another dimension and swapping places through time. Time traveling socks, think about it.

3) Making impregnable forts from a meager collection of pillows and a duvet is a skill that I have perfected. Morning now find me sheltered against the cold in a deluxe fort that has breathing holes, mobile phone alarm mufflers and absolutely 100% no drafts. January will see me taking these skills on the road, workshops coming to a bed near you.

4) Vitamins are acceptable if they are made to taste of orange.

5) I currently have 1 green dust encrusted pith helmet, 1 elwire and gold braid full size sombrero and 1 tank helmet with full comms gear on my desk. On the back of my chair is lieutenant Commanders Royal Navy black jacket. Comments have been made. Obviously not to my face, especially if I am wearing any of the afore mentioned items. I feel I am now suitably insulated against the grey man.

UNEXPECTED NEWS JUST IN!

Fuck me sideways! I think I was the only person on this pesky island of ours that had expectations of a good night and had them fucking well met. Everywhere the cult of the new year rejectees festers and grows and hogmanay is relegated to an overated holiday even worse than valentines day. But I stand surrounded on all sides isolated on a lonely out crop of joy sustained by the firm belief that it can be good if you just give it a chance. Sure we have all been decieved by new years eve but they are not all bad, trust me.

Festivities started with dropping off of supplies at the afterparty venue, a quick stiffner and onto our Thai restraunt. Small diversion via pub. Girls leave in tribe to initiate a new member, a friends friend who had I must confess a small look of apprehension in her eyes as she was escorted out. Another stiffner for the road. Arrival at the restraunt revealed the true motives behind the girls departure, a dastardly seating plan of boy girl boy girl. What were we to do now that our clan had been dispersed, vulnerable to conversations that included hair products and not enough dick jokes by half. It was a trial of will but we persevered through cunning application of the spinning thing in the middle of the table to pass notes and swap alcohol.

Quick exit, cowboy boots clicking off the cobble stones, camoflage kilt swaying in time to my forced stride. Had recieved word that the secondary team was in position at the ceilidh and had made preparations for my arrival. Slight diversion as Wet Wet Wet had correndoned of a doorway to play in at the top of Union Street, but otherwise made good time with relatively few queer jibes. Venue was the Lemon Tree and to maximise the impact of what few lights they had and to hide the high munter quioxent it was darker than the pits of hell in the place. My LED belt was a positive supernova of brightness in that dark realm, people would huddle around what poor light it cast watching HAPPY scroll endless from right to left; I couldn't work out how to programm the damn thing, it had a paltry 3 buttons and I totally failed to understand it.

The count down. People frantically dragging friends onto the dance floor and into groups to kickstart the flagging dancing .

The Bells. People rejoice, hug strangers, try to avoid awkward situations, get in awkward situations, leave hurredly for the bar, hug more starngers, do a strange jig that is usally only seen in old pirate movies.

January 1st 2007 began with momentum in a sedate battle against the wind towards the golden land of music, warmth, disco trousers, alcohol, Isaac, medicince and most importantly more or less everyone who is important to me in Aberdeen. Twas a grand affair with merriement in high levels, a varied group was gathered after suprisingly few casualties on route. Changed and ready to play gifts were given, tunes were badly sung, my shaggy ass spun across the dance floor and a considerable quantity of bullshit was exchanged. Eyeballs that glow and roll are my new favourite blinky, must remember to stock up whilst I am in town. Things started to descend as such things are want to do and the end seemed horribly close. But a change of venue was supplied by a vetenary surgeon/ ex-clubwear stockist/ extremely freindly girflriend of a friend in the arse end of nowhere (or so it seemed at the time). A quick raid for supplies followed with an orderly rounding up of stragglers seen the remaning hogamany refugees strolling through the pre-dawn streets hailing down anything vaguely motorised and taxi looking.

Sunrise found me sitting on an old oak bench, overlooking the north sea in the grounds of Muchalls Castle, as the sun peaked over the horizon, supping a delightful vodka orange (or for some reason sometimes also known as a screwdriver). Walking of a hand signal trained hunting dog through the dew blanketed grass was an unexpected start to a new year. Whats more I was coherent enough to still appreciate the moment, something that would have been inconcieviable a year ago. Getting home proved a challenge. Delivering survivors back to their car was no problem. Getting home again proved a challenge, a car infront of me ploughing through a flock of sheep creating a hideous scene of dismembered sheepy bits, really tested me there. 1.5 hours later after all the carcasses had been bulldozed away and the worse of the gore cleaned I continue onwards to the haven of one duvet, one TV and one sofa.

Given old temptations with old friends to fall into old behaviour, I resisted under duress and managed to do so with sufficient flair as to do myself proud.

All the best for your new year, together we can stop this tide of hatred towards our hogmanay

Dougaldutch