Frozen solder and pointless plans

Wow its February and this is my first post of the year, I apologise again for slacking!  You would have thought that I would have had a lot of time on my hands during these quiet months but, since I also predicted that, I have filled them with other tasks.

We have now almost completed the ladies toilet upgrade so I don’t have to spend every waking hour working on them. The new toilets have been well received and, more importantly, have enabled us to ‘steal’ the small space that we needed for the garden project.  We are now waiting on the architect so that we can get planning in for the external changes ready to push on in a couple of months.

For me the toilets has been mostly wiring, some plumbing and painting oh and paying invoices. It is great to get the tools out and do a bit of manual labour, just as it is for those of my ex-colleagues who are now consigned to desk roles. Soldering some pipe up, planning cable runs and installing all reminds us of when life was simpler I think. Of course I am not as young as I once was and a frozen shoulder is now a nagging reminder of that fact.

I continue to follow the exploits of Bombardier and am immensely proud to see Crossrail leading the way in securing new, and well deserved, contracts. I see the pride in people when they reach a stage in the contract and I know the blood sweat and tears that gets these things through and into production. I have the same pride now when somebody compliments the Plough and I can assure you there is plenty of blood sweat and tears so we are not so many miles apart.

I set out on this mission with the understanding that the pub could never compete with the complications and stress of my career, I may not be correct. As at least one of my locals will tell you, I only have to open two doors a day and in that lies the secret of this life, making it look easy. My office looks like a bomb zone. The desk is awash with paper, there are two whiteboards full of things that I need to remember but wont be able to remember why when I do. Two screens constantly nag me with spreadsheets and accounts packages and it takes a wall planner and a diary to help me forget what is happening tomorrow! Weeks race by with such an alarming rate that monthly tasks seem an insurmountable challenge and planning seems as likely as a white Christmas (please lets not say the C word again for at least a few months).

I awake every morning with two thoughts now, that thing that I think I forgot to do and that thing that I need to remember to do. That small mental exercise probably controls more in the pub than any of the notes, boards and books do. No matter how much praise the pub gets I feel continually guilty that I have not given enough time and attention to a person, a task or a plan. I can see so much more to come and it frustrates me that we can’t do it yet.  This comes from a person who has always proclaimed that slow and steady progress drives engagement and rapid change alienates, funny how sometimes it is so hard to practice what you preach.

For all the hard work I love what I do. Despite the gruelling shifts with people who you don’t wish to engage with there is a huge pleasure in the shifts when the pub works and becomes that which you are trying to mould. I guess that the true indicator of happiness for me is that I remain amazed that I am here. One night last week when I retired, exhausted, in the early hours of the morning I realised that I had left my cell phone downstairs. Since I use the phone as my alarm I was obliged to return and retrieve it and, as I am as a contrary as can be, I didn’t turn any lights on. When I eventually located the cell I stopped and looked around, in the glow of streetlights and emergency light indicators, and again I couldn’t help but smile at the thought that this is my home. To live in this pub, despite the hardships, is a privilege and one that I wasn’t always sure that I would achieve. To live on the island is an ambition achieved, I haven’t left Shanklin in 14 months and yet still I have no need or desire to.

Boards, crews, loads and folly

Somebody asked today to see the back bar, which I dutifully showed them, before exploring the garden. The response was, whilst not unexpected, not what my exhausted soul needed. “It’s huge” they proclaimed and “so much space” even from their naive perspective this was clearly a big task and they enquired as to whether all of my family are engaged in the Plough. Oh no says I, this is all me every last beer mat and brick, its all me, every drink served, worry considered and decision made……

Before writing this I was sat on a chair in the back bar with my head in my hands trying desperately to plot a path through the mountain of tasks that are whirling through my mind, needless to say I failed. I am supposed to fail at that task because there is simply too much to do, so many tasks that no mere human could chart them let alone complete them. I know that people don’t see the magnitude of this task and it is right that they shouldn’t because that is what I manage as a living, but if you see me smile that is simply insanity there is no other explanation.

To sit in the back bar and stress is not uncommon, to be overwhelmed by the task at hand also happens. It is not that I have any doubt that we can rebuild this wonderful old lady or that she will be loved. The scale of the task and the state of the industry means that she may well be my folly but if she is the legacy that I leave the world then that is not a bad record. Did you know though that it takes me two large whiteboards just to try and keep up with the day to day stuff? and that is before the year planners, diaries, electronic reminders and notes by the bed!

Gradually people are coming to realise the determination that I am built of, many of you already knew this. I am coming up to half a year without a break and breezing through it because, and this is important, I love this pub. She is fundamentally an awesome pub, not a good pub or even a great pub the Plough is the stuff of legends and by god she is recorded in many. That is the thing though with the old lady, she is a responsibility and a heavy one.

I love the pub dearly, I love that my home is invaded by a myriad of strangers and friends on a daily basis and a fair number of them have stories about her. I also love, somewhat strangely, that despite owning the pub I am acutely aware that I am nothing but a custodian.

To those that look upon me and think how lucky I am , yes some still do, take a day in my office or better still a day in my head. 24 hrs a day I worry about the Plough, she is the toughest Mrs a man can have (I speak from experience) and never leaves me alone. I go to sleep worrying and wake up to carry on the same worry, I have always said that Andrew and Helen have done an amazing thing with the Albion but I now look back and realise just how many there are in the Raymond crew and they still had an uphill fight.

This is my way of doing things and there is, and has always been, only that way. I am proud of what we have achieved so far and enjoying building on that but at 2 am I often ponder the couples, families and tribes who have run the Plough over the last 200+ years . I guess that in part this is a seasonal thing but when I think of the flat being full and the staff rotas it reminds me that there is just one of me and, if you happened past, you would see my shoulders sag just a little lower as the weight comes to bear don’t be too worried though its a comfortable load.

Service announcement

I am extremely lucky to have some good friends around me, people who look out for me and support me. I am acutely aware that some of these friends are spending an inordinate amount of time worrying about my wellbeing at the moment, so I thought it pertinent to explain some stuff. I am not seen out and about as much at the moment simply because I am feeling very unsociable, this is not a reflection on my friends or the company that I keep, responsibility for this lies solely with me. I guess that, in part, the season is not one that inspires me to say the least but that is not the whole story.

I am busy at work, not as busy as it may appear from my weekend excuses, but busy nonetheless. This means that I am trying to split packages of work into individual tasks and slot them into gaps in a busy diary. Most of my diary time is, at its least, double booked so there is some juggling to do to say the least. Whilst juggling these priorities and trying to make the most of my time I am ever conscious that the 16:00 phone call could change the next three days. It is incredibly difficult to manage the conflict in your head when you can’t actually guarantee your availability. Then there is the conflict between hoping that the call will bring positive results and knowing the chaos that will inflict 0n the diary.

I know that it has been some time since the accident and that, to all intents and purposes, I appear back on level ground. In short I am not, what you see is a carefully constructed front. My life remains on hold with a seemingly never-ending list of outcomes that I can’t influence, the frustration of this is like nothing that I have ever experienced. It takes an enormous amount of energy to continue stepping through the day-to-day activities of life like this. I am always conscious that my mind could drift from the task in hand and that I could be found wanting in the amount of effort that I put in, every minute is a battle to maintain some quality. This is not just a work thing, I planned a ring main recently and overlooked the easiest route, I knew the answer but somehow didn’t see it. On the Monday morning my oversight hit me, bearing in mind this was just theoretical planning, and added to the frustration and feeling that I am not performing at the level people deserve. If you couple the stress and frustration with gnawing pain that refuses to be ignored then you’ve pretty much got the picture.

This is my every day, every hour and every minute. I have become somewhat detached from the mask that you see, as if I am overlooking a lesser version of me, and I am not impressed by what I see. When you don’t see me it is not because something is wrong it is because I am struggling to maintain all of the characters, I just don’t have the energy. If I pass up a meeting or refuse an invite don’t be surprised, I struggle to get as far as the grocery store at the moment. I didn’t enter this experience from a great place, as a steadfastly single 40-year-old man and ‘absent father’ you really question your purpose in life. The truth, right now, is that I don’t have one, there is no purpose as such it’s just an exercise in killing time.

Rest assured this is not intended to be either melodramatic or some emotional breakdown. I am a firm believer that we all follow a path through life and whilst I am stuck on a roundabout at the moment it won’t last forever, this is just a chapter in my story. This was written only for those friends that are concerned and in particular Helen who, bless her, looks so worried. Don’t worry people, normal service will be resumed, ain’t nothing beaten me yet is there?

Drowning & diaries it’s all in a word

I was reminded this weekend of a good friends take on a word. I salute you Davina for giving us the word relationshit. Simply changing one letter makes the word significantly more accurate. The ability to go home, close the door and be alone is often undervalued but sometimes those around you remind you how lucky you are.

I am sure that there are those that have a happy relationship but there are also people who like swimming! I don’t understand swimming, you enter a pool of water and then expend huge amounts of energy simply to avoid drowning. As a human I have an infinitely more efficient means of avoiding drowning, I stay out of the water. The same is true of relationshits, you spend most of your time and energy avoiding arguments and maintaining the peace. If you don’t have a relationshit this is not a problem unless of course you’re schizophrenic.

I know that those of you engaged in this fruitless exercise will wax lyrical about the happy old couples, please don’t. Relationshits are doomed to failure the only reason that cute elderly couple are still together is time. Relationshit failure is like cancer and smokers. If you have a relationshit it will fail but you may find that you die first, this is not a success of the relationshit it is simply timing. Like a smoker who gets hit by a bus, he hasn’t beaten cancer he just checked out before it got round to him.

This weekend has demonstrated to me that sticking on dry land makes sense. After all I have the luxury that when I argue with somebody I don’t have to take them home with me!

I’m now heading into week 3 of ‘Challenge Diary’. This complex challenge involves trying to maintain a busy diary whilst checking daily to see if I need to cancel a few days. I was going to use the analogy of a duck paddling beneath the water but I don’t think it works. This constant plate spinning is more akin to being out of place. I am an ordered person,, as a single man working away from home it’s essential. I have hotel reservations and travel arrangements booked in advance. I plan my diary and my movements and look to make everything as efficient as I can.

The odd thing is that whilst other people are hoping they win the Euro Lottery this week I would settle for just taking this next step. Once this hurdle is done I can start to move life forward again so my fingers are crossed for ‘the call’ this week.