When did you last see your father?

A worrying article, although one with somewhat comic overtones, in the Guardian today shows that in one in five paternity claims handled by the Child Support Agency the mothers misidentified the father. The CSA does not know whether the mothers deliberately or inadvertantly misidentify the fathers. I wonder which is worse? Forgetting who the father is or deliberately deceiving a man about his role as a father? Or is it a combination of the two with the woman guessing who the father (probably) is and tempering this with a bit of calculation about who would make the better provider. Makes you wonder where we all really come from. Is this a specifically British and recent phenomeon or is it more global and long established?

Sex in the cities

Attentive (or even perhaps casual) readers of my blog might have noticed something new going on - a whiff of romantic interest. On one level they would be right - but on another level very wrong. In recent weeks two different women have called me out of the blue to enquire about my availability. They're both intelligent, good conversationalists, have interesting characters and fit bodies. But for me to think that they are in love with me, or me with them would be a delusion. To coin a phrase we are fuck-buddies. We have a meal, a few drinks, take each other's clothes off and find ways to please (and tease) each other. It’s good to spend intimate time with a sparky and spunky woman. It's an ego boost to go home leaving a sated lover wrapped in sweat-stained sheets. The endorphins are perceptible. Strangers try to hit on me.
And in these recession-hit and environmentally-conscious times then what better leisure activity is there than recreational sex? Its free, carbon-neutral, doesn't consume scarce resources and its calorific burn-off value is higher than a session at the gym. Yet while buddy-fucks can bolster my ego and endorphin levels its not the same as being in love. One has to be really careful to neither offer nor ask for more than the other, or I, want to give. It’s sometimes a difficult boundary to read. Yet it’s far better than feeling like an unattractive human being. There lies the vale of depression. Here's to those who can have their cake and eat it too- those who are truly in love and have good sex - may their passion never wane.

My father's house

Back in the UK for four days now. Most of the demons and dragons that I had been anticipating have not emerged. Maybe my practice has driven them back into their liars. I have been to visit R in the Residential Home (RH) three times in 4 days. So far he has not once asked me to take him home, or back to the NL. It’s a sign that he feels settled there. Yesterday evening I went to have dinner with the residents at the home (R included). I had a gut feeling that it would give me some insight into how the place worked, the interactions between staff and residents and between the residents themselves, that it would show me if there were any vipers in the nest. Also it would allow me to spend some time with R without feeling the need to maintain a conversation and to see how he reacted with his new ‘housemates’. On all counts it turned out well. If anyone is thinking about whether or not to commit a close relative to care I would recommend this as a strategy. It gives you a feel about the day-to-day life of the place. (There’s another blog there, but it doesn’t fit with the direction of this one).

Things really have seem to have changed since my grandmother went into care twenty years or so ago – then they were two or three to a room and it really did feel like a dehumanizing experience (or maybe because I was twenty-five years younger then being old felt dehumanizing). She complained about being abused, which always affected R’s opinion of RHs – but that could also just have been a symptom of her dementia.

Right now my mind is at rest. I think a future in a RH is the best option for R Moreover I think he recognizes it too. I think he enjoys having more social contacts. When he had carers in his house he used to follow them around as if they were going to steal the sheets from off his bed. Now he can let go of that distrust that has plagued him all his life. That’s another benefit. A huge one.

I’m feeling protected at the moment, because:
· R accepts the changes in his life and has started treating me in a different way. Instead of treating me like his wastrel son, who he could never stop criticizing for losing or breaking things, he has come to realize that I am his best ally. Often with dementia that equation goes the other way. Gaining some respect from that quarter so late in life makes all this effort have some kind of emotional payoff
· The wonderful support and safety nets offered by Kingston’s social services (SS) team. They have been wonderful. All too often one hears horror stories about SS failing to provide adequate care. All I can say is that they have been wonderful and supportive in communicating, in offering choices and respecting my choices and advocacy for R’s welfare even when these might not have coincided with their own professional judgments. I went to see a counselor for those looking after people with mental health problems this week (anticipating that this week was going to be harder than it has turned out to be). He said I should be grateful that R lives in Kingston, which has good care policies towards care, and also grateful for having TG as a caseworker, because she is especially dedicated. Thank you TG.
· Finally I am grateful because I am self-employed and don’t have to ask anyone for time-off. The last three trips I have made here have been open – ended. I always bought one-way tickets, with an idea of when I want to get back home –recognizing that it might take a few days more or less. Not many employers would buy that three times in six weeks. Moreover I can at least do some (albeit limited) work whilst away. Also being self-employed has given me the organizational skills and attitude to deal with some aspects of these various crises. I am sure I would have keeled over and folded if faced with this situation five years ago.

Friday night - facing the world - I feel I have moved mountains. Tomorrow I will take some of Reg’s pictures, a radio and other home comforts to his new home. Also look for a bike to ease my travels around the area over the coming months and give me an exercise machine to relieve stress. With some luck I should be able to pursue my political interests over the weekend too. As Henry (and most Buddhists) say it’s not just down to luck – it’s about the fortune you create.

Bad moon rising?

This morning's preparations for the day were interrupted by an urgent phone call from the hospital back in England. Last night my father was found wandering around the streets by the police and taken to hospital. He said the next day that it was someone who looked him and that he was at home all the time. He is, what they call, vulnerable. And a danger to himself. Long conversations with social worker, discussing the options. Not good. Much soul searching on my part.

He has clearly indicated that he would like me to live close to (his) home and be able to come and check on him every day (or few days). Part of me would like to do that - but another (and larger) part does not want to give up the home I have just established and relocate the business that I have built up in the past five years to go to live in the most expensive city in Europe, that I left almsot thirty years ago. Heart and head at conflict on ths one. I chill out by taking Bella dog out for a walk and run through the possibilities in my head among nature. Am I selfish or am I legitimately protecting my own interests? I have seen someone give up years of her life to move in with and nurse an elderly surviving parent through her dotage. I have been warned against it by others. Not sure if it is the right decision to make, though it would feel like a noble one.
For the time being R is going to stay in a Residental Home, his needs met and some protection for him. Next week I will be back there anyway as planned and hope to see him feeling settled rather than distraught. When the plan was suggested to him he seemed to welcome it: said he would like the company. When I spoke to the manager and looked at their web site it semed like a nice caring place - and possibly a more supportive environment than being alone in a small flat. If it chews up his savings then so be it. I would rather he had quality care - and I don't thnk I could provide that. The resntement that I would feel about giving up the life I have here would soon undermine any attempt to do the caring thing with any commitment.

Culture shock

The son of a friend of mine has recently switched from working for a British software development company to a Swedish one. He is still in a state of culture shock about his improved quality of life and being treated like a valued human being at work.

High Fidelity

The opening lines of the movie:

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

There is a sort of high fidelity blog on the (e-) Guardian where a writer suggests a musical theme (which can vary from, I don't know - an emotion, to songs with a colour in the title) and invites readers to suggest suitable songs. It's clearly popular - it attracts several hundred responses a week - and every week a list of the most interesting ten songs from the previous week is published (a sort of virtual themed compilation tape). I've only just discovered it.

Last week the theme was songs that make you cry. Turned out this was the most popular theme ever, confirming the importance of Nick Hornby's /John Cusack's question. Man of the World by Fleetwood Mac was the most popular weepie. You can find it on You tube (but I'm not going to link to it because it is so - maudlin - though the great guitar breaks and the shifts from ballad mode to hard rock do give it a lot of edge).

My vote for the greatest ever weepy song goes to In My Life by the Beatles. Its got nothing to do with heartbreak (well ok its not completely about it) - it just catches a sense of memories and nostalgia and feeling for things that have gone before - what a great ending falsetto and what a lovely video.

Walking the Netherlands - Day 7.

Picking up the western leg of my trans-Netherlands walk again after some 15 months. Its the first day of summer time - but to look at the grey sky you wouldn't know it. At least it's not snowing this weekend. But there is a persistent drizzle when I set out on the train from Schiedam to Delft, I'm hoping it's going to clear. If not I figure I can do a few tourist sites in Delft and head back to Rotterdam. And it does. Game on! After a quick trip of the canals and bridges of Delft I take the bus out to Schipluiden - a beautiful little village and reconnect with the Oeverloperapad - the start of one of Europe's long distance footpaths -running from Hoek van Holland to Nice (I think there's a British section too). I'm kind of hoping to do it all - but at the rate I'm going it will be 2014 before I finish the Dutch section.

The skies are grey - I spend all day between 2 and 5.5 metres below sea level -combined that's a pretty accurate emotional barometer. But it's nice to be out in the wind, to talk to myself and take a rain check about what's going on (or not going on) in my life. I'm glad to be out by myself today. I invited a friend but she had other priorities and its good to be alone in the landscape. To deal with existential problems - like do I do turn South before or after that bridge? And why is there is a mismatch between the map - which shows no housing- and the path - where the housing is 100m north of the path I am following? And I chuckle at the metaphor - why does the reality of my life not match the map that I drew a few years ago?

The rain holds off - but the grey and flat landscape doesn't lend itself to photos today - so today's photos (see last blog) are mostly of birds and bridges. The first half of the walk takes me across a polder that separates Delft from Rotterdam. There's a story about how this is still here, at least still unspoilt . I only know half of it. Some years ago there were plans to build a motorway link across the middle of this polder. They built the infrastructure -a bank that it is now a cycle path - but the the environmental argument prevailed and the motorway extension was never completed. As a former anti-roads campaigner that gave me a warm glow in my heart.

The second half is spent skirting around the northern perimeter of Rotterdam. I love these peri-urban environments where almost every step is imbued with history. They are so much more interesting than city centres with their chain stores and malls and public images. (I once met a great guy in Copenhagen - who was offering cycling tours around the lesser known quarters of the city - unfortunately his publicity spoke of visiting the backside of the city and he didn't attract the client base he was looking for).

At the end of the day I've done nearly 20K and am tired so I misread the (Dutch) route instructions and instead of ending at a NS station find myself at the close-by "Melancholy weg" tram and metro stop. Now how appropriate is that? (But why are they not piping Leonard Cohen songs?).

Back to my friend's flat. She makes me a huge mug of tea - with biscuits- and we talk about each others days' - and how our lovers' fucked us up and hurt us - and we play each other our favourite sad love songs and I remember how important friends are. We run around the planet (in however large or small circles) looking for love - (well at least I do). Ultimately it's our friends who guide, shield, protect and inspire us.

Pat's been away

When I started the ex pat files a few months ago it was meant to be a wry and reflective look at the joys and confusions of living and working abroad. Since that time another issue came to the fore and this blog morphed into The Ex-files. Since that time almost everything I have done has been coloured by the struggle to rediscover my own sense of self worth after having been dumped by the woman I loved, redefine my life plan and rebuild a social life. (Hey when you're single you have to work twice as hard at it as your network is only half the size it was before). And it has been a struggle. But many friendships have been made or strengthened along the way, particularly among my Buddhist community who have kept reminding me that I am no less of a valuable person because one person realised she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with me.

We never chose to have difficult periods in our lives. But they are the times when our characters are forged. And I feel myself growing into a stronger, more focused and less needy man as a result of these last few months. And I like that feeling.

And next year we're going to bring Pat back to the ex-pat files

Closing down for 2007

This last week or so my office has turned into a post room with every flat surface cleared and cleaned to accommodate packing and labelling some 400 calendars for 2008.
The timing was a bit fine this year. My contact at the printers was off sick the week before last -so the final adjustments to the proofs ran late, after which the calendars had to be printed and then bound. Finally they arrived on Thursday afternoon (20th). A friend immediately came over to help me pack them and we got more than half done in the afternoon. Friday morning I was able to post out the few going out of Europe and get the ones for the local University into their internal mail system before everything there closes down for two weeks. Christmas Eve the ones to EU countries were ready to be franked and today (26th) I am packing the ones to go into the Dutch mail system ready for tomorrow. The timing should be perfect, with them all arriving on people's desks and bring a little light on their return to work. That should leave me enough time on my birthday to do a little round about town and drop off those to friends, neighbours and local colleagues.

In the course of this mayhem two suprise gifts arrive. One is from the artist whose work I commissioned. He had come to pick up his share of the calendars - and bought me one of his paintings as a gift. What a wonderful and unexpected surprise. Thank You Huub . I hope in forty or so years time when future generations are sorting through my things they will hold it up and say "Is this a genuine Ragas?" Even if not it was wonderful gift and surprise. The second gift was equally a surprise. The Ex also turned up unannounced at my office with a huge christmas box - with coffee, chocolate, alcohol miniatures, CDS, and more. She said "Christmas wouldn't be the same without seeing you" I was almost speechless - too many conflicting emotions to manage being articulate. This was no Hi-fidelity scenario. There was no drive out to any remote lovers' lane. She's not about to suddenly tell me that she realised she made a big mistake. She looks far too happy in her new situation for that to be likely. But there clearly is a message here - although it is not clear to me what it is and is never explicitly stated. Was it Kipling who said "Tis better to have loved and lost than never loved at all"? It's one to remember on those days when I see my glass as half empty, rather than half full. Thanks A.

Shake your money maker

A recent survey - published in the Telegraaf (what do you mean do I read that - it's at a level of Dutch that even I can just about understand- and its free in my works canteen) said that 38% of Dutch people want to have more sex and romance in 2008. This was by far the thing that most people wanted to change in their lives next year. I thought maybe, just maybe, someone should mass produce T-shirts saying just simply one of the 38%. That gives, let's see, a potential market of some 6.5 million people. It would help them us recognise each other more easily. They can't all be Telegraaf readers.

On dating Dutch girls

Sometimes one wants someone to look up to....but other times it gets ridiculous

SMS yourself

With the obvious exception of (good) sex the thing I miss most about being single is the affirmation of being special that comes from receiving a stream of loving e mails, text messages etc.
Wouldn't it be great if there were a computer programme that could send you little random (pre set) messages such as "I love you", 'You're so special", "Don't work too late tonight", "Have you made plans for the weekend yet?" "Any good movies on this weekend?" or "wear your thong today."
It would just help remind people who are single that they are special and also need to care of themselves and respect their lives.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being Single

Apologies to my readers for having been so quiet on the blogging front recently. I have been experiencing a significant dissonance between my external and internal lives and not finding a way to match the two - both personally or in terms of writing.

Externally I have being keeping myself busy: movies, galleries, visits from long-time, no -see friends from Britain, seeing the occasional great band, regular swimming, going to the sauna etc. Yet internally there's a "so what" feeling - is all this activity an attempt to escape from my underlying feelings of anger/ frustration / betrayal / lack of direction and self esteem?

So I could write about van Gogh and Orchestra Baobab and the three great movies I have seen in the past two weeks. But it all feels superficial. Yet writing about my internal life feels indulgent.

On the plus side I no longer spend my weekends in a state of emotional catatonia. Elvis Costello, Neil Young, Bob Dylan and other members of the lonely hearts club band no longer have exclusive access to my stereo and I don't think often about what "she" might be doing with her new man. I have made lots of new friends and strengthened existing friendships. This has helped me understand just how many people share the same sense of pain and loss and the different ways that they deal with it. Sometimes I have been able to support them, other times they have helped me see how to move forward. Building new networks and strengthening existing ones has been a positive aspect of being single.

Yet, on the negative side, when the last encore has been played, the screen credits have rolled or the bar tender has called time one goes home - alone. The Netherlands doesn't have a culture of getting pissed, pulling and asking their name the next morning. So Sunday mornings have as yet always been breakfast for one. How do Dutch people - and particularly women - cope with singleness? For men there is always the red light district option, but while the women there can provide sexual relief they aren't likely to provide the sense of acceptance that makes sex special and meaningful.

Not being single seems attractive, but maybe it is an easy option. If I started a relationship straight away I would not have this opportunity to explore my relationship with myself. As a Buddhist - who chants every day to reveal my innate Buddha nature- I should welcome this opportunity. But jealousy hunger and lack of self respect get in the way of that. Am I alone in simply missing being told I'm special?

Eleanor Rigby (all the lonely people)

Finally put my head above the parapet last week and posted an ad and photo on one of NL's largest dating sites. Within an afternoon my mail box was already indicating a first response.

Hi my new friend. My name is A********. To me of 29 years! I for the first time use the Internet what to get acquainted with the man! Also I wish to tell that when I have seen your structure, I became very interesting to me also would like to learn more you! As to me, I very much love small children, I simply adore them! Unfortunately I till now while do not have children, but in the near future I very much wish them to get with the favourite person! As at me many different hobbies about which I necessarily to you shall tell at correspondence! Unfortunately now I have not enough time and I cannot write more to you, to me it will be more convenient, if you write to me on my electronic address: (deleted). I hope for your prompt reply! bye.......

Seems like there is a wealth of opportunities out there (at least for teaching English) just waiting to be seized. Still its comforting to be told that I have a nice structure! Are there a few more fish in the sea?

High Fidelity

I bought my ex a copy of High Fidelity (amongst other things) for her birthday. I bought myself a copy too. Reading it again it doesn't seem like the most tactful gift to buy an ex who I still have feelings for. The irony in the first chapter about the author's five worst break-ups might not be appreciated. Let's be clear. This break-up certainly warrants a top five ranking in my all time list- not because A. was cruel or thoughtless but perhaps because the very opposite. She didn't want to hurt me and hid her feelings for too long and denied (to me and perhaps herself) that for her the flame had burnt out. And I played along with it and convinced myself that the flame was just subdued by difficult circumstances and was worth trying to breathe life into. I felt she was such a treasure that it was worth trying to weather the storm. What I didn't see was that she felt that I so was vulnerable that she didn't know how to say goodbye with making me cry. In that sense we both made mistakes. I've been crying - but as much about my blindness in not seeing the changes in our relationship as in the loss of the relationship itself. At least now I can see a way forward with both eyes open- for some time I had been wearing the blinkers of a love lost but not acknowledged

Now she has a new love in her life and a radiance that makes me happy and jealous at the same time. Pleased to see the radiance back in her face but upset that its not me that is putting it there. So new man -please respect and honour this woman because she is a treasure.

In the spirit of Nick Hornby here's my current top five songs (in no particular order) for wallowing in and getting through this sad time
1. Better Things - Massive Attack
2. Buckets of Rain - Bob Dylan
3. The Wedding Song - Joni Mitchell
4. Hold back the tears (just around the corner) - Neil Young
5. What a wonderful world - Louis Armstrong

Bubbling under
I'll rise - Ben Harper

Anniversary

This weekend I celebrated the sixth anniversary of receiving my Gohonzon, when I made commitment in my life to practising Nichiren Buddhism and to developing my innate Buddha nature through chanting Nam Myo Ho Renge Kyo. It was also my ex-girl's birthday so I spent much of the day torn between a sense of celebration and one of loss. I spent a lot of time thinking about my life had changed in the past six and the last two and a half years (the later being the time we were together ) - and i felt, well a lot.

The external changes I can catalogue pretty well and are generally positive. The internal changes, which are more important ones as they will determine my life state and future are harder to see right now. I am torn between the need for distractions and the need to focus on what I really want to do next in my life to move it forwards. And my brain - the organ we usually rely on to give us a sense of direction - doesn't have an answer to that - so I know I need to chant to attract the right opportunities and influences in my life and to protect myself from harmful ones.

I saw a great quote on the net last night about our thoughts determining our actions which determine our destiny. But it was more eloquently put than that. Basically it all starts within.

Porn again

Being single again I find myself finding inordinate amounts of time on Internet porn and dating sites and chat rooms (hey do you need some textual healing??). Living in a small town has a real down side when you find yourself back in singles ville again - not necessarily because you want to go out on the pull straight away - but just to go somewhere where you can blend into the crowd and feel part of an anonymous mass of humanity - rather than feeling that your social status is determined by your (lack of ) ability to keep a relationship together. Much though advice about joining a social group is appreciated I find that half an hour's chatting with virtual strangers after a tennis match does not qualify as meaningful social exchange.

I guess I could take photos of the local gang of geese or start my novel. But for the moment I just want to listen to the most self indulgent and self-pitying rock and folk songs that I can find in my collection. Starting with Blood on the Tracks:
Now there's a wall between us - something has been lost
I took too much for granted - I got my signals crossed
Do I understand your question man? Is it hopeless and forlorn?
Come in she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm.

Bitter? Me? Like a lemon! Mix me with some brown sugar and a large splash of vodka, let me chill for a while and I will come out smelling like roses.

Polish holiday

Back from Poland from a twelve day spiritual and nature holiday. The trip home took 28 hours, though we did leave early to get a six hour stopover in Warsaw. We were up in the north eastern corner of the country, a couple of hours drive away from the Lithuanian and Byelorussian borders, not that we had a car. There were storks everywhere, almost every house had a nest close by. We had sighting of cranes, spotted eagles, elk (moose?), beaver (the aquatic variety), and shooting stars. There was a day’s kayaking, an afternoon’s pottery, a dawn walk in which we sacrificed ourselves to mosquitoes to get a sighting of moose (elk?),their droppings and the traces of wild boar. Lots of yoga and massage sessions – what better holiday for a group of stressed out urbanites?
I must confess I don’t take easily to groups or group holidays. It is probably a throwback to being an only child and being bullied at school and in the boy scouts. I find group dynamics particularly difficult to deal with, even in the most “democratic” groups, with sharing sessions, there are complex dynamics going on – dynamics that I find it difficult to deal with. But Arlette was so aglow with the idea of doing this for our holiday that I knew that I would struggle to come up with a better idea and besides I had never been to Poland. For me the dynamics were complicated by the fact that it was (apart from me) a completely native Dutch speaking group which raised issues that I hope to write more about later. It placed me in the position of being an outsider. Dutch peoples’ English ranges from the fluent to the passable. Yet when together around the table and wanting to express themselves comfortably they revert to Dutch. This raises the dilemma for an outsider of not wanting to insist that people speak English (otherwise how am I going to learn Dutch?) but also of missing key elements of a conversation. I can mostly follow a yoga class, or travel instructions in Dutch, but when people start discussing the finer points about how or why something should be done (or not) or how they are feeling today then I tend to lose the plot and – Catch 22- these are precisely the points when Dutch people revert to their native language. So the holiday also turned into a very intensive (and mostly welcome) Dutch course.
But the most significant thing that happened on the holiday was that Arlette, who has been my lover, companion and friend over the past two and half years, and I decided to split up. It was not totally unexpected. We had been aware that the differences between us were becoming harder to reconcile. Yet that didn’t mean that there weren’t a lot of tears. I cried a lot in the privacy of my room, and could not say anything on the final drive home from the railway station. What wanted to say was thank you for a year or so of magic and wonder and for another year or so of being a support for me in getting my feet on the ground in the NL. (Brushing away tears at this point). They say opposites attract and I regarded it as real challenge to overcome superficial differences –like our tastes in music or film or TV- but the deeper differences in how we plan (or not) and approach life were harder to overcome. I’ve learnt a lot from you and you’ve helped me grow - I hope that you feel the same.
For now its back its singlesville. Hope I (we) am (are) strong enough to deal with this positively. Thank you also to all the other group members for being sympathetic to my limited Dutch language skills and our emotional traumas. I hope that neither disturbed your holiday too much. The benefit for me is that I WILL do group holidays again – the experience of getting to meet people and really seeing their barriers break down and getting closer to them, understanding who they are and how they deal with their own lives and realities is enormous: though for a holiday I might choose mixed language (and culture) groups next time!