I don't do Valentines.
Added to the fact that it is close to my birthday, and I can't get a table in a restaurant that isn't massively overpriced (and if you can eat it is all covered in chocolate because it's "romantic" - yes, including the fish and steak!)... Its just not worth the effort.
Instead, I'm enjoying the Winter Olympics.
There is something great about a sporting event in which the British have no chance of getting a medal in. We haven't even got an "Eddie the Eagle" to amuse us, so we can watch and just enjoy the spectacle. Dutchmen flying on skates as fast as a human can go without a machine or an animal. Scandinavians flying through the air. Central Europeans and Orientals sliding down and over various forms of frozen water - and nowhere is a Brit to threaten to raise the nations hopes, only to have the cup of victory dashed from our lips at the final hurdle while the tabloid hacks sharpen their nibs and begin the recriminations.

Pity, contempt, anger,pride, shame and revulsion.

I popped into my local city centre this afternoon. While I was there I saw something that filled me with all the emotions above. And it was such a petty little thing.

We have several charity shops in the city. Lots of good bargains and things its impossible to believe that people bought in the first place. My favourite is a bookshop that is supporting a hospice.
I was in there, browsing as usual, not really looking for anything but enjoying the shelves and shelves of books.
As I turned I saw a man in his 60s move sharply away from a shelf and into a corner. I didn't think anything of it and carried on. The battered plastic bag he was carrying rustled, then and he turned past me, and headed out of the shop, not stopping at the desk. As he left I looked at the shelf he had moved away from and there was a large space where a book had been, and it dawned on me as to where it was. It was in his bag.
I wanted to say something, but wasn't sure enough. I left the shop and walked in the direction I'd seen him go. He was in the Oxfam shop a few doors down. He was heading for the door, from near a shelf, his hand in his bag, not stopping at the till. Then on to a third shop. I followed him. He went in, and I stopped at the window.
I realised he'd sussed I was watching him as he stood inside the door for about 20 seconds holding it shut. Very odd. I went into the shop a few moment later and kept an eye on him. He kept an eye on me, and didn't do anything.
He left, and so did I. He was outside yet another shop, but turned away quickly when he saw me. I walked up to him and said "I saw you."
"I didn't do anything!" he said, which I thought was a very odd response from someone who hadn't done anything.
"Its pretty low stealing from charity shops, isn't it?" I asked him.
"That's the sort of thing you would do!" he replied - again, not the response I'd expect.
"Should I call the police?" I asked him.
"You want to watch what you accuse people of." He turned and walked away.

I returned to the hospice shop and told them of my suspicions. They were grateful for letting them know, I'd have gone into the other shops too - but I hadn't seen anything for certain, and the time between his visit and my arrival was increasing. They wouldn't have remembered him.

I guess he steals from charity because its easier. Volunteers, not regular staff, probably no cameras, and they'd probably let you pay rather than call the police. Maybe he thinks that he deserves the stuff, and not the ill, poor, disadvantaged people the shop supports so he's justified in stealing. Who knows.
All I know is he knows I saw him.
I feel pity, contempt and revulsion for him and whatever his bitter, nasty little motive is.
I feel proud of myself for confronting him.
I feel ashamed and angry that I didn't act sooner, and that for fear of making myself look silly, I didn't just call the police.

Its another series of nights - so the posts have been delayed. Sorry, Loyal Reader(s?)

I'm 42 today. Other than the Douglas Adams reference, its not really a cause of celebration. I feel a complete failure. Poor job, poor marriage, no money, no prospects.
This came out in a conversation with Wifey, and I think we are finally starting to get to the point of resolution or revolution.
"I don't want to lose you from my life, but I don't want to spend another 20 years being as unhappy as I am." She said "I know."
She doesn't do face to face confrontation very well. I told her to try. If she can't talk, she needs to write it down for me. She's thinking about it.

Another day, another crisis.

Wifey had another day at an internal interview/assessment thing for internal promotions today. We had to be there at 8:45 - and its only about 20 miles. We left over an hour early and were late by a good 20 minutes. So not a good start - she was a cat on white hot bricks before she'd even got through the door.
I picked her up later. And she was in pieces because it had, as I thought it might, gone particularly badly. She's been massively hyper all the way home, telling me how she froze all the time!
Now we are going to go out for dinner in the hope she can get drunk, and sleep.

The Observer Book of Medical People : Number 27, The Neurologist.

We had a short wait. I had barely scanned the paper I'd bought, and I certainly hadn't had time to start the crossword or the Sudoku before her name was called. We were brought into a very small office containing an odd looking man in a casual, short sleeved, grey shirt, worn without a tie and a garish waistcoat. He had the look of Mr Bean about him, which didn't exactly inspire confidence - but he spoke in a manner that gave a little more confidence. It wasn't a long consultation, though. There was a chat, a "touch your nose... hmmm", a spot of scribbling, an "I don't think it serious, but we'll book a scan" and a "goodbye".

It was all over so quickly, we were outside looking at one another and saying "Was that it?" for ages. We debated going back in to see if we were supposed to wait for a scan there and then... but decided that we had been dismissed.

Am not sure what to think at the moment.

Visited The Teacher today. Found she's in a similar situation to me... I guess the big new house, child and starting a business together with her husband made me think they were at least content.
Funny how stuff can slide right past you without it being obvious.

So I spent some time advising her on how to deal with it... Its so easy to tell someone to do something that you can't do yourself.

Had a conversation with Wifey the other day. I'd popped into her work to see her as I'd not seen her at all and had to drive home to help out with a few things... Silly waste of time, petrol and... Everything! (never mind - move on.)
Anyway... I'd gone in and I was sat with her in the rest room having a coffee and a chat. We chatted about nothing much but I could feel a big weight bearing down on my psyche. It was all getting too much to bear as she waffled on about not much at all.
"We need to talk about this relationship" I said rather suddenly. she muttered an "I know", but nothing much more was forthcoming.
"The whole thing is in trouble. Money, sex, marriage - all are in real trouble, we are approaching the very end of the line here, Wifey."
She looked at me blankly. "Lets not talk about it here" She said, not unfairly. I didn't want to talk about it there and then, where her workmates could walk in at any moment.
"Trouble is, you don't want to talk about it here or at home, or anywhere else." She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. "I wont talk about it in a box, I wont talk about it with a fox, I wont talk about it Sam I am!" I said in a moment of, what I modestly considered, comedy genius.
"Ha, ha, ha!" she said slowly, and not unfairly.