A strange one to blog; this is more a feeling than a recap of recent adventures. Tonight brings with it the beginning of the end chapter in Cardiff as I told my flatmates I was leaving 'probably within the next 10 days'. I am not seeking another tenancy in Cardiff. This is most likely the end of me living in Wales in this lifetime.
I feel sad. But thankfully it's a positive sorrow brought about by a largely positive experience; a wistful longing for the really great, poignant moments I've had here, and a feeling of loss for my good friends that I will no longer be able to see on a daily basis. Tinged with this is a sorrow born of angst; a niggle in my brain that my friends will forget me once I move on, or more upsetting still, the half-thought that perhaps they never truly knew me in the first place. A worry, either way that I will not have left enough of an impression upon them, for us to ever meet up again - to have accomplished nothing with their friendship more than to be a part of their recent past than their continuing present and future. This is a worry born from no more basis than the fragility of my own character and the value I place on the individuals I know means I insist I keep them close to me inspite of geographic distance. I am wise enough, having 'moved on' many times personally, to know that these feelings will pass and are not to be dwelt upon. They deserve to be acknowledged, and now I have I can look to the future and bring my friends along with me in the adventures soon to unfold.
I have progressed with my hunt for a job in London and Monday saw me train-ride back to Cardiff after a telephone interview with Millward Brown. The strangest rush of nerves hit me during that interview and I am convinced that I did not give a true account of my ability to communicate. Nevertheless, I wait in anticipation of the email today that will tell me if I progress to the final interview. If not, I attended a 6 hour seminar on 'marketing your CV effectively' as a professional yesterday. 4 hours were dull and uniformative but 2 were sensational in that they opened my eyes to the industry rather than service of recruitment. 3/4s of jobs are never advertised. 95% of job searches by recruiters are for CVs posted within the last 7 days. 90% of jobs are filled with an online search only. These sorts of facts, and the techniques I learnt convince me of two things; (i) employing them (pun intended) will stand me in great stead for getting a job (ii) if I can find a way to present this information to the market appealingly, I can definately make some money from the information I have.
Other relevant items in my everyday life are: I met Aled on Monday night after years of not seeing each other. It was brilliant to see how comfortably we sank back into our friendship as though no time had passed since we graduated all those 3 years ago. One pint quickly led to 4 and there were some strong parallels with our recent experiences with Aled having been out of employment for 8 months post his managerial role in PrimeCare last year; largely because he could, and also because a job is tough to get. It's strange that he's ended up taking a backward leap to man phones at Lloyds TSB but the job holds options to work his way up and he likes the prestige of a bank. The strangest aspect of this is how similar he sounded to Lissa in his aim to progress up the financial ladder. Meeting Aled gave me some strength as I always believe people I don't see are sprinting past me in the progress of their lives and this illusion somewhat stallwarts my own progress as I belittle my endeavours. Its was comforting to see Aled as stoical as ever, and I must admit I was a little happy to meet someone who was honest enough to admit to being envious of both my PropBox business and my travels. It made me feel my personal actions were not immature, insignificant detours off the path of grown-up life. Meeting Aled was just like old times, with my conversational flamboyance counteracted by his blunter banter. I'd like our meeting up not to be an annual event or worse and shall try to keep in touch more hereon.
Also:
I have struck up an email-friendship with Sara, my 16 yr old niece as a result of my birthday card to Yvonne. I think I have 'convinced' Dad to come to the Bar Mitzvah now he knows Naomi and I shall attend.
I recieved a beatuifully penned postcard from Lizzie (from Stockholm) from her time in New York - I am very pleased to at least have been on her mind during travels :)
And finally
Today is the day Phil is due to/could become a Dr. I wish him the very best of luck today in his Viver and look forward to seeing him this afternoon to know the result. Good luck Phil. I know you deserve it. :D
Oh, and thank you Cardiff. I may be ready to move on, but by and large you have been good to me. Thank you for being my host for the last 6 years :) x x x
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Sunday, 23 May 2010
A new entry; the New Mr and Mrs Lang.
Dear few people that read this blog, it is time I re-invigorated the dormant beast and wrote a new entry. It is clear that the world judges us all on actions alone, and this is not a blog unless I write.
The best entry I can think of is to recap Sammy and Stu's wedding. Since this wonderful day I have managed a few acts of noteworthy socialising and progress with employment, but nothing is as noteworthy as their fantastic day.
Sammy and Stu's wedding, for me, began with an alarm clock that decided to deny me an alarm and a mad rush to shower, shave and shape up in the 5 minutes we had before all heading off on the open road in a mini bus. Being a master of last-minute dives I had the foresight to put breakfast on before addressing everything else (other than underpants and Tshirt) so at least I had dry toast to fly out the door with.
The journey to Stamford was entertaining enough. Ash, Rhys, Amy, Tristan, Poofincat (of course) and I all made the 3 and a bit hour journey up, with Amy threatening to be sick in the seat in front, the sat nav threatening not to take us to our destination, and I drifting in and out of transport-induced-coma at the back with Tristan and Poofincat.
Arrival in Stamford brought with it a beaming and beautifully dressed hostess-of-the-changing rooms; Xania, - as all 5 of us crammed into her spare bedroom to change into suitable wedding attire before strolling to the church. Stamford is the quintessential English village town - cute cobbled side streets, shop fronts the width of cupboards and a town centre grossly over-populated with churches. 4 churches including St George's on Mary's street, and St. Mary's on St George's street were within a stone's throw of each other and its was trial and error trying to find the right wedding party to attach ourselves to.
Finding the church we found Stu looking incredibly handsome (the first time I had ever seen him dressed smartly) and Chris standing regally to his side keeping him calm. The day beamed with sunshine as the photographer busied herself taking photos of all the smiling faces as the wedding troupe, and one man in particular, waited for the bridal car to bring its passenger to the gates. On getting the signal, we headed in and took our seats, and the rest was a blur. A beautiful, regal Sammy, glided down the aisle on the arm of an emotional father to take her position besides the sweetly nervous Stu, and the 'I dos' and the rings were exchanged flawlessly. In a flash our friends became Mr and Mrs and I, like everyone else, couldn't help but beam back at the smiling (and relieved) couple.
Next followed the sermon, and though I have written in front of me a rather scathing account of some of the allegory the vicar used to convey the need for love and persistence in marriage (namely i didn't agree with his over-analysis of Paul's letter to the Corintheans and his over-stressing of the strife of married life on a day of happiness) his words were all well meaning and well received, being the respected family vicar.
Photographs aside we all journeyed to the barn where the reception was to be held. We all ate hearty honest food, and despite no-one really remembering what they had ordered, were all served large portions of the menu with no dinner-envy in sight. Sat opposite Ash, and next to Rhys, I soon knew the names and stories of those within shouting distance. The star of our table, (which ran the length of the room) in my opinion, was Kate who was determined get the wine in. She was expert in drawing another bottle from the caterers and soon commanded an impressive hoarde for herself. Among my new friends from the day were her, Sarah from Manchester and Roxy from Cardiff but special mention has to go to the definition of Bristol sat to my right. The couple were great company but it hit home I was in Somerset when they leant across mid-meal and informed me conspiratorially should the free-bar start to run dry they 'had a solution' having found where the stash of booze for the evening was kept. They practically jumped for joy once they realised they could replace the wine they had been dutifully drinking with cider for the remainder of the wedding meal.
In a change from traddition speeches preceded food and Chris did a valiant job of making-it-up-as-he-went-along with his best man speech. He was to some extent ill-prepared, having penned bulletpoints with Dave on the train up there the night before instead of having something well rehearsed, but to make matters worse he found himself without a side-kick. Dave, best man #2, had been so intent on making the wedding that, having woken up with agonising backpain, he had taken a whole day's recommended dosage of painkillers only to collapse en route to the church. Only then did those around him realise that what he had taken was half a packet of anti-depressants....it is by no means a surprise that he turned up as a lucid thunderbird later on in the evening.
The best part of the night was by far and away the barn dance. Tables and chairs were pushed to the side, the cider was stacked high on the bar (the bottles which had got away from my Bristol couple), and the band struck up with guitar, fiddle and the best costume of the day - the dance leader's all-in-one fish-print suit. The beauty of the barn dance was evident; no opportunity for shameful grandad shuffles across the floor to 1970s classics or disturbing moves by toddlers to Britney Spears medleys - just an honest drum and fiddle rythym and a few 'simple' (dance-leader speech for hillariously-complicated) dance moves.
Maddi turned up post her exam, and joined me as my most glamorous dance partner. There wasn't too much competition for her to outshine as among others, my notable dance partners for the evening had included Ash. Exactly.
The best movers-and-shakers of the night apart from Sammy and Stu (that IS me being bias) was Chris and Tristan who are somewhat well-versed in Caelith dancing. Tris and I, being similar weights and similar calamity-pursuing mentalities practically threw ourselves off the floor whenever we locked arms to spin around the dancefloor and we all sported some good old-fashioned bruises in the morning. We could have danced for hours, despite the sweat patches on suit shirts, and the smeared makeup on cheeks, and we did. We all danced to the very last chord of the very last song.
Although this wedding didn't have a bridesmaid to chase, and only staged one best-man instead of the planned two, it was a beautiful event. I feel so privileged to have witnessed the ceremony and to see the love between Sammy and Stu on this, the first day of many of their married life together. It was beautiful for me personally, to have spent a whole day having fun with the people I call flatmates this year (that includes Maddi, Amy and Tristan) and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I wish Sammy and Stu every happiness together, and am glad to hear already, that even on her honeymoon, Sammy still remained true enough to her football-core to go and watch the Champions League Final in the bar :) x x x x x
The best entry I can think of is to recap Sammy and Stu's wedding. Since this wonderful day I have managed a few acts of noteworthy socialising and progress with employment, but nothing is as noteworthy as their fantastic day.
Sammy and Stu's wedding, for me, began with an alarm clock that decided to deny me an alarm and a mad rush to shower, shave and shape up in the 5 minutes we had before all heading off on the open road in a mini bus. Being a master of last-minute dives I had the foresight to put breakfast on before addressing everything else (other than underpants and Tshirt) so at least I had dry toast to fly out the door with.
The journey to Stamford was entertaining enough. Ash, Rhys, Amy, Tristan, Poofincat (of course) and I all made the 3 and a bit hour journey up, with Amy threatening to be sick in the seat in front, the sat nav threatening not to take us to our destination, and I drifting in and out of transport-induced-coma at the back with Tristan and Poofincat.
Arrival in Stamford brought with it a beaming and beautifully dressed hostess-of-the-changing rooms; Xania, - as all 5 of us crammed into her spare bedroom to change into suitable wedding attire before strolling to the church. Stamford is the quintessential English village town - cute cobbled side streets, shop fronts the width of cupboards and a town centre grossly over-populated with churches. 4 churches including St George's on Mary's street, and St. Mary's on St George's street were within a stone's throw of each other and its was trial and error trying to find the right wedding party to attach ourselves to.
Finding the church we found Stu looking incredibly handsome (the first time I had ever seen him dressed smartly) and Chris standing regally to his side keeping him calm. The day beamed with sunshine as the photographer busied herself taking photos of all the smiling faces as the wedding troupe, and one man in particular, waited for the bridal car to bring its passenger to the gates. On getting the signal, we headed in and took our seats, and the rest was a blur. A beautiful, regal Sammy, glided down the aisle on the arm of an emotional father to take her position besides the sweetly nervous Stu, and the 'I dos' and the rings were exchanged flawlessly. In a flash our friends became Mr and Mrs and I, like everyone else, couldn't help but beam back at the smiling (and relieved) couple.
Next followed the sermon, and though I have written in front of me a rather scathing account of some of the allegory the vicar used to convey the need for love and persistence in marriage (namely i didn't agree with his over-analysis of Paul's letter to the Corintheans and his over-stressing of the strife of married life on a day of happiness) his words were all well meaning and well received, being the respected family vicar.
Photographs aside we all journeyed to the barn where the reception was to be held. We all ate hearty honest food, and despite no-one really remembering what they had ordered, were all served large portions of the menu with no dinner-envy in sight. Sat opposite Ash, and next to Rhys, I soon knew the names and stories of those within shouting distance. The star of our table, (which ran the length of the room) in my opinion, was Kate who was determined get the wine in. She was expert in drawing another bottle from the caterers and soon commanded an impressive hoarde for herself. Among my new friends from the day were her, Sarah from Manchester and Roxy from Cardiff but special mention has to go to the definition of Bristol sat to my right. The couple were great company but it hit home I was in Somerset when they leant across mid-meal and informed me conspiratorially should the free-bar start to run dry they 'had a solution' having found where the stash of booze for the evening was kept. They practically jumped for joy once they realised they could replace the wine they had been dutifully drinking with cider for the remainder of the wedding meal.
In a change from traddition speeches preceded food and Chris did a valiant job of making-it-up-as-he-went-along with his best man speech. He was to some extent ill-prepared, having penned bulletpoints with Dave on the train up there the night before instead of having something well rehearsed, but to make matters worse he found himself without a side-kick. Dave, best man #2, had been so intent on making the wedding that, having woken up with agonising backpain, he had taken a whole day's recommended dosage of painkillers only to collapse en route to the church. Only then did those around him realise that what he had taken was half a packet of anti-depressants....it is by no means a surprise that he turned up as a lucid thunderbird later on in the evening.
The best part of the night was by far and away the barn dance. Tables and chairs were pushed to the side, the cider was stacked high on the bar (the bottles which had got away from my Bristol couple), and the band struck up with guitar, fiddle and the best costume of the day - the dance leader's all-in-one fish-print suit. The beauty of the barn dance was evident; no opportunity for shameful grandad shuffles across the floor to 1970s classics or disturbing moves by toddlers to Britney Spears medleys - just an honest drum and fiddle rythym and a few 'simple' (dance-leader speech for hillariously-complicated) dance moves.
Maddi turned up post her exam, and joined me as my most glamorous dance partner. There wasn't too much competition for her to outshine as among others, my notable dance partners for the evening had included Ash. Exactly.
The best movers-and-shakers of the night apart from Sammy and Stu (that IS me being bias) was Chris and Tristan who are somewhat well-versed in Caelith dancing. Tris and I, being similar weights and similar calamity-pursuing mentalities practically threw ourselves off the floor whenever we locked arms to spin around the dancefloor and we all sported some good old-fashioned bruises in the morning. We could have danced for hours, despite the sweat patches on suit shirts, and the smeared makeup on cheeks, and we did. We all danced to the very last chord of the very last song.
Although this wedding didn't have a bridesmaid to chase, and only staged one best-man instead of the planned two, it was a beautiful event. I feel so privileged to have witnessed the ceremony and to see the love between Sammy and Stu on this, the first day of many of their married life together. It was beautiful for me personally, to have spent a whole day having fun with the people I call flatmates this year (that includes Maddi, Amy and Tristan) and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I wish Sammy and Stu every happiness together, and am glad to hear already, that even on her honeymoon, Sammy still remained true enough to her football-core to go and watch the Champions League Final in the bar :) x x x x x
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