clinging to the wreckage

This has been a week of intensities. But, as with many intense experiences that occur outside of the comfort zone, it was a week of great learning for me. Seniors from my organization traveled from France to the USA and then we embarked on a three-city trip in four days for intensive meetings and discussions. Boston on Monday, Portsmouth on Tuesday, and New York on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. It was heavy in terms of travel, stress, and focus… and was ultimately a fantastic learning experience that helped me to grow a little, both personally and professionally. Coming home, my flight was cancelled. I tried to get a train and they were sold out. I eventually found another flight and had to wait seven hours at the airport (the new flight was delayed) but I eventually made it home. I climbed into bed, fell asleep, then some pranksters set off the fire alarm in my building and we had to evacuate… but nothing could remove my happiness and sense of peace to be home af

The photograph shows you lying in a park in Madrid wearing a blue Suicidal Tendencies shirt (that I bought for you at a Madrid skate shop) and beside you is a copy of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre (that I gave to you) lying upon your cardigan, through the collar of which is threaded a flower that you picked in the park that day. The grass is green, the sun is bright, your black hair with a tinge of auburn is shining as you bite your bottom lip to slightly disguise a smile. I took the photo five years ago and I remember the day as if it were today. You said that if you were looking for marriage I’d be perfect… but you were looking to have fun, to meet as many men as you could, to party… experience life to the full. I had to respect this and let you go. It wasn’t easy. We had watched films and laughed at our own comments all the way through. On weekends we cooked breakfast together and watched Sherlock Holmes. We explored Madrid. We travelled to London and Moro

I had been awake since 4 or before. It was Valentines day. I knew I had to end things with one, spend the day longing for others, and then wallow in isolation and solitude. I watched a TV show in which Lucifer, who was British, of course, left hell to take a vacation in Los Angeles. The idea is actually quite intriguing, the execution is less so. Sometimes I feel as if I am living this role. I used to be this sweet boy who always smiled and looked for innocent and long-lasting traditional love. Over the years I saw people having fun all around me whilst I suffered deeply and internally. It happened relatively late in life that my marriage ended and my eyes opened. I felt a deep sense of relief and of freedom. Expecting nothing and living in the moment I had relationships with people who were in relationships and then I moved to Madrid. Life began at 39. I became so happy that I was sometimes scared. For the first time I started to do what I had always seen others do… I

It had been a long and difficult week in Miami. I’d arrived on Saturday night and, after a quick dinner in the hotel, I went to bed. In the morning I woke up, had breakfast at the pool, had a swim, watched some English football, then took an Uber down to South Beach. I wasn’t sure where to head to, so I set my destination as the Art Deco Welcome Centre right in the heart of Ocean Drive. The driver’s name was Jean-Christophe, originally French, but had lived all over the world, and was in Miami for some business reason that I couldn’t quite grasp. As we approached the art deco centre there was a lot of traffic, so I asked JC to drop me off right where we were. I hopped out and immediately found myself staring into a cool, dark, beautiful bar. I wanted to walk in and order a beer, but it was 11am and I was meeting a friend and his wife, so I thought it best to resist for at least one hour. I walked down Ocean Drive and back up through the bright colours and overwhelming s

In the dream we were in a swimming pool, surrounded by friends and strangers. You were naked and it was the most natural and beautiful thing anyone had ever seen. You were laughing and joking with me and our friends, aware of my love, were smiling. Suddenly, it changed, you started to shout at me as you climbed from the pool. You were saying that I had recently been aggressively flirtatious with you and that you never wanted to see or speak to me again. Our friends were sad, shocked, looking at me as if they were uncertain if I deserved pity or scorn. A few moments later I had moved onto the next nightmare in which swans were gathering at the major lakes of the earth in preparation for the end of the world as floods washed cities into ruin and people drowned in their hundreds of thousands. From watching this I was suddenly washed out to sea and the current was pulling me rapidly to an icy and lonely death. As I rushed out in the foamy water and ice I wo

Many Monday nights I would proclaim ‘Monday is the new Friday’ and, delighted to have survived the day, the alcohol would begin to flow. We’d flood into the Spanish streets and sip vast quantities of things as we tasted tapas and tried scruffy little bars in dark alleys. Thinking of those nights tonight I ask myself ‘who is this person?’ as I walk downstairs to our gym and start to jog on the treadmill after having pasta and vegetables for dinner with water. Last week was spent in sickness and it feels so good to be healthy again that I feel inspired. And yet it feels strange to write such light and healthy words, for I am often one with the dark… a lover of literature scribbled by the drunken pen… and music that flows from the bottom of the barrel. My Spanish doctor once proclaimed, ‘I know your life is good but please stop celebrating so much.’ One year later my American doctor told me that I was a high risk and that my lifestyle had to change. And, so, I raise m

So many people asked if I was prepared for the Boston winters when I was moving here from Madrid. I was born in Greater Manchester, England, and the winters in Boston are beautiful compared to what I grew up in. It is cold here but often beautifully sunny and blue. In Manchester we had cold accompanied by driving rain and endless grey skies. There is something of immense beauty in that too. There is nothing that can compare to going to an old pub that is hundreds of years old and has moss and the colour of centuries upon its walls. There is a smell in the air of freshness from a persistent rain wash. But yesterday, as I watched football from around England, I noticed that people were wrapped in thick raincoats and looked as miserable as sin as the rain soaked through to their bones. The inescapable wetness. I took a walk to the post office and was astonished by the brightness and the beauty of Massachusetts even at sub zero temperatures. My Massachusetts ID a