The Westquay Epiphany

Last Monday, I was in Southampton, and with the pull of the Westquay shopping centre impossible to ignore, I found myself “just browsing” in nearly every store it had to offer (much to the disappointment of several sales assistants). When we tell someone that we’re just having a look around, I think a lot of us are saying it just to politely get them off our backs. In my case, though, I’m telling the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth. I might see plenty of items I like and am tempted by, but very rarely do I feel a burning desire to part with any cash – or anything that strong at all.

In these tough times, you could be forgiven for thinking that I’m just being somewhat frugal. Subconsciously, perhaps I am, but I don’t think that explains everything. Of course, my reaction to something can vary depending on what it is. If it’s a meal or a new book, for example, then that’s something I could share with others, something to be fully consumed and savoured (in drastically contrasting ways, obviously). If it’s an item of clothing, on the other hand, my response – or lack thereof – couldn’t be more different. It’s closer to indifference.

I think it’s at its worst with clothes, as a matter of fact. You can point something out to me and I might agree that it looks nice, but that’ll be the end of the discussion. Either that or I’ll just tell you what I think you’re expecting to hear. I’ve been doing a bit of soul-searching to try to find out exactly why that is – why I feel so little towards what I wear – and that’s what led me to force myself to make some purchases in Westquay. When I’d managed to prise myself away, I had a new T-shirt, as well as a short-sleeved, smart casual summer shirt covered in mountains, yachts and palm trees. I’ve got a Spanish holiday coming up at the end of June, so the latter seemed particularly appropriate, I think you’ll agree. But my God, was it difficult to choose! Not because there was a wide range of options, but because I didn’t actually know what I wanted to look like. After so much deep thought, there it was – the grand revelation, hitting me in real time.

You see, for the first 26 years of my life, I haven’t really had much input into my own image. It might sound like I’m complaining about that, but I’m not. Mum, Dad and numerous other friends and relatives have meant well – I’ve just found it all too easy to accept everything I was given on birthdays or at Christmas. Maybe I was equally grateful and relieved, because each gift meant one less wardrobe dilemma, and we all know how people can struggle with those – especially in adolescence. In my twenties, however, I don’t honestly feel that things have gotten any easier. I can’t tell you how many laps I did around the M&S racks before settling on what to buy. With each one, another question would go round and round in my head, and all of them related to what other people would think of what I went for. Whether I liked it or not was the last thing on my mind, because what do I like? It looks like I ought to find out. Trusting myself, backing myself and liking myself a little bit more surely can’t do any harm – my life as a whole will be better for it.

Mason

Awaiting A Feeling

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

It’s such a frequently asked question, but one I’ve never really had an explicit answer to. Sometimes I feel as though I should, especially now I’m closer to 30 than I’d like. It doesn’t always feel good enough to say that I just want to be happy, wherever I end up and whatever I might be doing – but that is the honest truth, at the end of the day. When you strip away all the baggage there is in life, isn’t that what we all want, deep down?

Mum once asked what would make me happy. That was the moment I realised I had no fixed concept of what happiness would look like – that ultimately, it would be a feeling of warmth and security that would come from within. I’d just know. At most, all I have are a few vague impressions of what could bring that. Finding someone special is probably the most pressing one – a relationship feels like one of the few big life things I haven’t had yet. My lack of experience in that department is more and more of an elephant in the room with every passing year, although it’s not easy to make anything happen when you don’t think much of yourself or your ability to make another person happy. Career-wise, it’d be great to put my wordiness to good use as I’ve always intended, but I can’t be certain whether that’ll be as a writer or in another more unexpected way.

I suppose that’s where the fun in having no specific expectations lies, isn’t it? Enjoying the journey and not worrying quite so much about the destination. I recently saw a writing prompt that asked what the biggest challenge in the next six months would be. My answer was similar to what I’ve said here – whatever it is, I’ll keep a cool head and savour all the less testing bits. That definitely applies right now as well, and I’ll have the added excitement of never knowing when or how that wave of happiness will hit.

Mason

Pottery

Every Friday when I’m at work, someone in my office asks me how I’ll be spending the weekend. I usually say I’ve got nothing on, and that that’s just the way I like it, but that’s not always strictly true. I do a lot of pottering – well, as much pottering as one can do on six wheels rather than two legs. Sometimes it leads me to people, places and plans with purpose. Other times, it lives up to its name, and I’m wandering aimlessly.

Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing – I actually spent a lot of today doing it. It clears the mind. It’s a calming, comforting, familiar routine, and one that requires no effort on my part whatsoever. But every so often, when I’m traipsing round the same shop for the hundredth time, I do wonder: is this something other people do, or is it just proof I need to find another hobby?

As is often the case, I can’t help worrying about what other people think. Every year, I get older and older, and now and again I feel like life is passing me by. Have I got enough to show for it? It can be hard to tell sometimes. Do I get myself worked up for no reason? Possibly. Probably. I don’t know. The jury’s still out…

Mason

Awaiting Reply

You know when I found that note last year – the one that told me I owed myself money – and I had no idea when I wrote it or why? I was reminded of that just a couple of weeks ago, when I started yet another new notebook. Not a personal one, like the one I’m scribbling the first draft of this post in, but a work one with its own pen secured at the side. Yes, its own pen! You know what that means – no more frantic searching when you need to jot down an email address or phone number. Let me tell you, an attached pen is very much a luxury in my line of work. We have a whole box of these books in our office, each with the incorrect branding on the front cover – so they’re just sitting there, empty and (as far as I’m concerned) fair game.

I wasted no time in claiming one for myself, and such is the fast pace of the university careers world that I had to rush it into action immediately. No date. No title. No context. Just a list, seven words long:

“Waiting/Awaiting reply/Approved/Not approved/Withdrawn”.

Nope, no idea. I’ll tell you one thing, though – looking at it reminds me of my online dating attempts!

Mason

Leave The Laundry ‘Til Later

Mum excitedly texted me the other day to tell me of one of the brand new joys in her life:

“I’ve discovered podcasts!”

Now, she can be late to the party with certain things. She once famously (or infamously) predicted that Clean Bandit would be big after hearing them on the radio, three years after they’d actually started having hits. Louis and I still haven’t quite let her live that down – it can be all too easy to pull her leg, bless her. This time, though, I resisted the considerable urge to do so, because I absolutely understood her enthusiasm. I could feel the energy in those three small words, the same energy I felt myself a few years back. It sounds like a cheesy cliche, but discovering podcasts was like unlocking a brand new world, such is the sheer volume of content that there is to unearth. In fact, I reckon that if there’s a topic that doesn’t have its own podcast yet, it probably isn’t worth knowing about.

For a long time, I wasn’t getting into them quite as much as others were. Lara has always been fond of audiobooks – most of what she reviews on Instagram is listened to rather than read. I once asked her if she found them difficult to focus on, as she’d invariably play them while doing things around the house, writing an essay or – more recently – working on a lesson plan. She assured me there were never any issues, but I was sceptical, and that scepticism extended to podcasts as well. I was convinced I’d be far too busy sorting out my washing to take in what was being said. I was wrong. If anything, the reverse was true, and my washing tends to take a whole lot longer than it really should. What can I say – Lara always knows best, doesn’t she? I should never have doubted her.

I will say that I often cherry pick what I listen to, so to speak. There’ll be some podcasts I never miss an episode of, and others I just tune into now and then depending on a particular subject or guest. Whatever my approach on any given day, I know that I won’t take my headphones off without first having learned something or laughed out loud (even alone in a quiet flat). Let me leave you with a few of my favourites – don’t just take my suggestions, though. Do your own digging and you’ll definitely find something you love just as much:

The Dave Berry Breakfast Show – Absolute Radio

Help I Sexted My Boss – hosted by Jordan North and William Hanson

Crushed – a podcast about unrequited love, hosted by Margaret Cabourn-Smith

The BBC’s Desert Island Discs – hosted by Lauren Laverne

Bring Back V10s – a Formula One podcast covering stories between 1989 and 2005, hosted by Glenn Freeman

Mason

Blind Dates

I’m often asked what I’m reading at the moment, mostly by people who think I’m far more cultured than I actually am. For a time – particularly during my degree or when I started the book club with Lara and Nora – I could reply at the drop of a hat. These days, not so much. I can’t really explain why I took my eye off the ball when it came to reading. Perhaps it was just a lack of motivation, brought on by what I felt was a general lack of direction in my life. Whatever the reason, I did know deep down that I wanted to get back into books again – so a couple of Sundays ago, on the spur of the moment, I put that plan into action. Browsing the bookshelf in HMV, I couldn’t help noticing that you could get two titles for £7. A spark was ignited, and I set a couple of hard and fast rules in my head.

The first was that I had to pick one novel and one piece of non-fiction. The second was that there could be no deliberating or dawdling – I could choose based on initial impressions and a glance at the blurb only. Under the circumstances, it’d be the closest thing to going in blind. So what did I go for? The novel was Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet On The Western Front, because I wanted to read a renowned classic. The non-fiction choice was Themes For Great Cities, a biography of the band Simple Minds, because I’ve always been a sucker for a bit of music history. That really is all there is to it. I intend to absorb them both without feeling like I have to have any writerly opinions on them – Lara is much better at those anyway. Reading just for pleasure and the joy of discovering something new feels very freeing. At the time of writing, I’ve reached Chapter 10 of All Quiet, and one thing’s for sure – I’m loving connecting with a page again.

Mason

Full Band Setup

In life, we can long for lots of different kinds of company. It can be platonic, physical or romantic, depending on your situation, and there are lots of different far-reaching branches of each type. What I’m looking for right now comes under the ‘platonic’ umbrella – specifically, company of the creative kind. I’m not talking about someone who’s an ‘intellectual equal’ or anything like that. I run a modest blog read by a modest (but loyal) handful of people, so I’m hardly one of the great thinkers of our age. In fact, I’d say that a lot of my attempts to say something profound have fallen a little bit flat, to say the least.

Nevertheless, I can’t deny that it would be nice to have – for want of a better term – a sounding board of sorts. A person, or group of people, who’ll listen to my daft ideas and gently guide me in the right direction without judgment. They might even offer up some of their own, so that I can return the favour. I went to that writers’ group a couple of times, yes, and I was made very welcome on each occasion – but there was something missing. I was surrounded by brilliant minds relating brilliant ideas, but I still didn’t feel completely comfortable for some reason. Perhaps it was difficult to relate to people who were double my age and had spent a life cave diving in Mexico, fascinating though that was. I also wondered if they’d find it tricky to relate to my 26 year old online ramblings, so I ultimately never presented anything to them. Overall, it was a very different experience to one of my Creative Writing workshops during my degree.

Harsh? Maybe, but I can’t help feeling that I need peers in that arena too, just I’d want friends or dates my own age. It might be time to give serious thought to making Third Time Enabled a group project again, and resurrecting the full band setup, as I’d always envisioned. I wonder if Will, Emily or Alex are busy at the moment? Or perhaps I should press on writing the lyrics I’ve promised to show a friend of mine, even though I hate them with a passion in their current draft form. There are a few options to consider, as you can see…

Mason

Pretty Pictures

Believe it or not, a toddler did not bring these pebbles home from playgroup. They were, in fact, painted by me during my lunch break with the team today – if I was being kind to myself, I’d call my approach abstract. There’s a ladybird and a tree in there somewhere if you squint hard enough, you know. Perhaps they serve as irrefutable proof that my talents, if any, lie firmly in words and not in pretty pictures. Needless to say, none of the rest of the team were quite as heavy-handed, and their work was considerably easier on the eye!

Art therapy as a whole, however, is something I’d recommend to anyone, even after just one hour. While the results might have left something to be desired, there’s no question that I felt more relaxed than I had done in some time. Even if you don’t naturally gravitate towards paint or marker pens, don’t be dismissive (as I initially was). Give it a go and you might just be surprised by how much lighter you feel. To be honest, I think we could all do with experiencing that sensation a little more often in this day and age.

Mason

Worth Its Weight In Gold

Another new year is here, and 2024 holds more significance for me than most. It is, after all, the first calendar year I’ll be spending in my own flat, and my flat is a base from which anything is possible. For the first time in my life, I truly believe that. One of the worst things about waiting for the sale to go through was the instability it inflicted on each day – I may have had a job, but its continued existence relied on also having a place to live sharpish. If anything fell through, my life would be thrown into disarray again. I may have alluded to this before, but when you’re freshly out of a long spell of unemployment, there can be nothing worse than the thought of going straight back to square one.

I therefore feel blessed that – at least for the foreseeable future – I don’t have to, and it’s not something I ever intend to take for granted. I’ll really savour not having to give vague answers to questions about where I am or what I’m doing. I’ll be able to respond with total certainty, and that’s worth its weight in gold. Someone told me that life becomes easier when you have a place of your own, as it enables more new connections and more solid plans. One thing is for sure – over the coming year, I can’t wait to find out if they’re right.

Mason

Found In The Archives

It’s almost 20 years since this photo – which Mum unearthed while looking for Scrabble yesterday – was taken (25 August 2004, my seventh birthday). A lot has changed in that time. The wheelchair is now electric, I’ve outgrown the Thunderbirds T-shirt I’m wearing and I don’t need the leg splints anymore. But one thing remains the same – fast cars still put a big smile on my face.

I later graduated from museums to racetracks. A natural progression, I guess you could say…

Mason