I'm running out of clock and that ain't a shock.

I'm 6 days away from leaving. I'm 6 days away from leaving an island of family, friends, memories, for an island of family, friends, and memories yet to be made. 

I'm sitting on a train carriage and the man across from me is clutching an oversized bottle of Stella Artois. I like Stella, but the smell reminds me of an ex, and his bedsit, and nights in front of the PS2 playing Lego Star Wars. 
And it reminds me that I think I lost one of my PS2 controllers to him. Just like I lost my DVD (or was it VHS, I was 16...) of the Nighmare Before Christmas to another ex. 

And it's trails of memories like that which I savour, and considering my terrible memory, feel precious to me. Granted, it's not pleasant remembering either of those ex's, but remembering the memories themselves is nice. It's comforting.

Someone commented to me recently that they didn't think I was the sentimental type. But I can be. That's why I have several memory boxes of collected items. That's why I have walls covered in postcards and pictures. But you can recognise the pleasure in remembering times gone past without being nostalgic for them, or wishing that in fact the past was the present.

I'm about to leave the country for anything up to a year, and at times I might be lonely, or homesick, and the memories of all the people I've left behind will battle for space in my mind. Some will come equipped with megaphones, others colourful banners; anything to get my attention.

But when I'm not feeling that way, or maybe despite feeling that way, I'll be in a new country, on a new adventure, making new memories. And that is so exciting. We document our lives so much these days - Facebook updates, 140-characters or less tweets, Instagramming our dinner. Even blogging. There's the criticism that we're so busy posting about our lives that we're not actually living them. 

But how can we resist having an instant memory recall?! How can we resist being able to find out how exactly we reacted to England qualifying for the World Cup or the major storm of 2013. Or our comments on the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics, or even as far back as Michael Jackson's death? It's like reading back old diaries and reminding yourself of all the ancient petty squabbles you had with your sister or the time your parents tried to ground you for doing something or other.
I can look back on my Facebook and the multitude of hair colours and clothes I've had in the last 8 years. I can see with a click of the mouse the people I've been sharing my life with up until now. I can see again all the places I've been: America, Belfast, Bologna, Brighton, York. London. Beautiful, miserable, sprawling and crowded London. I barely know London. I want to know it so much better. I still have time. But for now I can make do with getting to know Cairns, Brisbane, Sydney...

I'm going to miss you. All of you. Ok not all of you. In fact, I'm looking forward to putting some memories, some people, behind me. Hey! Hey you! Yes you, the one that acted like a jerkoff to me. I'm looking forward to leaving you behind. The Other Side of the Sea behind. Don't get me wrong, I'll still think about you, because you got under my skin and you're like a scab that I can't resist picking... But when I'm in a country where I'll be in a bikini because it'll be SO DAMN HOT, I won't want to pick that scab.

I'm not stupid in thinking that by going to the other side of the world, I'm leaving all my troubles behind. How many films have we seen when people run away from their troubles or think they've escaped them only to have them catch up with them? I'm taking my issues with me because they are to do with me. But people run away for a new scene, a new culture, a new perspective. So your issues? They might not matter so much an ocean away. 

So when I'm the other side of the sea, missing some of you, and being finally free of the presence of others, you just need to know I'm ok. But you'll know that, cos I'll have posted it on Facebook. You know, that photo of me on the beach in my bikini, in December ;) 

The weather outside is frightful (or: it's being smart that counts)

Why do we get so excited about snow? the BBC asks. I don't why, you tell me Beeb. Because I sure as hell don't get excited about snow. Not one iota. Knowing snow is coming, or waking up to find snow covering my garden makes my heart sink.
I don't know whether this is a symptom of getting old, I can't remember enjoying snow when I was younger. As my mum has pointed out, I've had more snow in my lifetime than she ever did by my age. I pointed out to her this was probably due to the global warming her generation and the generations before her had caused. But for as long as I can remember, I have not liked snow, for the reasons listed below.

1. Snow is hugely inconvenient. For transport, public and private. For businesses. For schools. For people in general. You can't get anywhere, and if you do succeed in finally getting there, you can't get back.
2. It's white. I hate the colour white. Whilst not a universal disadvantage of snow (for example some people might like the colour white), it certainly gets irritating after a while.
3. The end result of snow. Slush, or even ice, tend to be what comes next once the pretty little snowflakes have fallen and covered our houses, cars, roads and pavements. If you're lucky, it becomes slush. Dirty, mucky, slushy slush. At least this only soaks your shoes through faster than the snow did. Slush most often occurs on roads or where grit/salt has been used. But the compacted snow more often becomes ice where people tread repeatedly on it. This makes for more dangerous walking than the thick snow that lay there before, and I'm sure most people find themselves with aching feet from the way you walk on ice.
4. It is cold and wet. This comes into play when you get it in your face or down your clothes, whether because it's drifting down from the heavens, being blown around by wind, or if you have been the target on a snowball.
5. Snow costs money. Much like the inconvenience, businesses will do less trade, people are unable to work, and the cost of getting the area/country back on it's feet is pretty big. Compensation for disrupted travel, most likely flights from closed airports rather than disrupted public transport, will need to be negotiated.
   

Basically, snow is useless. I personally do not think it is even that pretty. There's nothing majorly magical about a blanket of snow, and I don't understand why people like it. With the exception of kids, because they obviously know no better.

***

I recently saw a bus advert for the LG Optimus phone that claimed "It's being smart that counts."
This obviously refers to the fact that if you don't own some sort of smartphone these days, you clearly live in a cave or under a rock. My contract is up in a matter of weeks on my G1 and though I both love & hate my phone, I don't know if I can find an acceptable replacement. I was hoping to go for the HTC Desire Z, but since it's so new I don't think I will get my regular £30 800 minutes-Unlimited Texts-Unlimited Internet contract on such a phone. But now I have had my G1, I have higher expectations of phones. In fact, I get frustrated that my phone cannot do things. I now want a phone with the following abilities:
- Email
- Threaded texts
- Open documents i.e word doc, jpgs, pdf
- in addition to this, I want to be able to EDIT these documents and then send them on
- Navigation & Maps
- Social networking feeds
- Integral calendar that is easy to use
- a QWERTY keyboard
- and probably many more I can't think of right now.
I basically want a laptop in a phone. Which is probably why I want an iPad, for the first time since they were launched, as I have sort of been seduced by the idea of their capabilities. I'll let you know after Friday whether I buy one using a friend's bulk discount.

The other thing that came to mind when I saw the aforementioned LG advert was that it is not being smart that counts. If it was being smart that counts, then I would have had an easier time at school, and so would a lot of kids still in education being ridiculed for their higher intelligence by those with lower intelligence. Telling them that it's "being smart that counts" probably isn't much consolation.


Last but not least, the photo here shows how sentimental I am: this is a collection of scrapbooks and memory boxes I have, and two large photo albums started by other people but finished by me of my childhood and adolescence.
This now all resides in the loft. Teehee.