Away From Your Usual

I suppose it’s too late by now to wish you a Happy New Year? In any other post, maybe I’d apologise instead and offer a feeble excuse for why I haven’t had anything to say recently, but this time the truth is simple. There’s nothing to say – at all. Not at the moment, anyway. It’s not a great realisation to come to at the best of times, let alone as we approach Third Time Enabled’s tenth birthday, but I feel I should accept that it’s not necessarily realistic to update it every week or month any more. Recent posts have been shorter, harder to write and – in my eyes – not really worth your time. Perhaps I’ve lost my touch, if I ever had it in the first place. I can only conclude that this blog needs a break, and it’ll be an extended one too.

A friend told me the other day that maybe I should write something that’s “away from my usual” to clear the block. I might take her advice. Failing that, I’ll inspire myself with other people’s writing instead. I want to read as many books as I can in 2025, but at this moment there’s no specific magic number to reach – more the broader desire just to be contented with the reading I’ve done by the end of the year.

I might have come back to you by then, but who knows? Just remember that I’m not saying goodbye, just “see you later”.

Take care of yourselves.

Mason

If Anyone Asks

…Embrace were great. Or they would have been, anyway.

I’d had tickets to see them in Southampton on Monday 25 November for about six months, but a few unfortunate circumstances meant it wasn’t to be. To start with, I ventured out to Southampton far too early in the day. I went at lunchtime, thinking I’d make an afternoon of it (and to be fair, I did squeeze in a visit to Pizza Hut), but I also underestimated the mileage my wheelchair was capable of in doing so. The whole thing was ultimately killed stone dead by my insistence on doing a recce of the route to the venue once I was off the train – what I thought was only a few minutes in a straight line turned out to be a bit more than that. I’d seen the directions on Google Maps, of course, but they doesn’t account for how a wheelchair user might get to a destination, only a pedestrian on two legs. You can never tell where the next dropped kerb is – or how long a detour to find one might be – so the only option was to do a test run and get everything straight in my head.

Who would have thought that Southampton was so bumpy and rugged? Not me, that’s for sure. By the time I actually had to get to the gig, I was down to my last few bars of power. In the end, I got as far as hearing the band soundcheck from the pavement outside. The drums were pounding away within those four walls, muffled but tantalisingly close as I admitted defeat. I went home and felt like an idiot for the rest of the evening. Apart from everything else, £30 had gone down the drain because of my own poor planning! I didn’t really get over it until I’d slept it off. I could see things much more clearly the next day. I thought so, at least. I still felt silly, don’t get me wrong, and frustrated too – but not just for the reason you might expect.

As I’ve said, I only wanted to make sure I knew where I was going and minimise any mishaps in the process. I couldn’t have known I’d be creating them instead when I was leaving my flat, chair fully charged. I have to consider accessibility nearly every day of my life, to some extent, and as far as I was concerned neglecting the recce would have been irresponsible. Simultaneously, though, turned out to be the right and wrong thing to do. Moral of the story, able-bodied folks? Don’t take any of your trouble-free adventures for granted, because some of us can’t win. Being able to move from A to B without getting stuck or making a scene is something we really value, and we learn the hard way that it’s never guaranteed, even when we think every eventuality has been covered.

Mason

The Christmas Quiz

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. At the beginning of last month, anyone watching BBC One whilst having their tea might have seen my cousin Matthew and I win both the coveted Pointless trophy and jackpot, something I still can’t believe even a year after the recording. It’s not every day you sit down with a cup of tea to watch yourself on TV (twice), and it’s even rarer that you get so many people patting you on the back at work for so long afterwards. Not that I’m complaining – it was all good fun and I will always be very proud of how things turned out. But now some people want to know which quiz show I might sign up for next, and I’ve also been approached to write a Christmas quiz for our team. One of my colleagues is keen to collaborate with me, and I am looking forward to the challenge, but the pressure is definitely on. We both want to put on a good show! I think we’re equally intimidated by the sight of a blank page. We’ve already had the same interaction a few times. First, the question: “Have you started yet?” Then the sheepish response: “No, but I will. Soon. Tonight.”

The ball is now rolling, however – very slowly, at least. I don’t want to give too much away, but I’m planning a round inspired by Pointless itself, one I previously used during my Zoom lockdown quizzes in 2020. I’ve no idea if what I’ll rustle up will be any good, but I’m looking forward to getting the quizzing juices flowing once more. It’s just a shame I can’t take part and leave everyone else in the dust…

Mason

Available In All Good Newsagents

New material has once again been hard to come by of late, and you’ll have noticed that there has been an unusually long gap between posts. My brain has failed to come up with the goods, but when that happens I can always rely on entertaining overheard snippets of conversation to help out. Or, in this case, something I’ve glanced at in WHSmith.

I don’t know if any of you are readers of Airliner World magazine – I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure myself – but the latest issue has quite the special offer on the front cover:

“BUMPER ISSUE! FREE AIR CRASH SUPPLEMENT”

Must remember to pick up my copy next time I pop in.

Mason

Showtime

Eleven months ago, I inexplicably posted my student essay analysing Oasis’ Be Here Now on this blog. Complete with its footnotes, too. I can’t imagine many people were very interested in that, but if you were one of those uninspired readers, then fear not. I reckon you might be intrigued by what happened two days later, when I went off to London to do something altogether more exciting. Something that has, until now, been a secret from many – the quiz show Pointless, to be precise, alongside my cousin Matthew.

It was a brief adventure – lasting just over a day in total – but it was still unlike any other I’ve ever embarked upon. Matthew and I are both keen quizzers, but when he first tried to rope me into joining him in January 2023, I wasn’t sure about venturing that far out of my comfort zone. But what’s life without a few risks? All I can say now is that I’m glad I did!

I knew the show would be broadcast eventually, but once we’d filmed it, it just became something that was slowly approaching from a long way away. Life went on. We genuinely didn’t know when to expect it, and we told anyone who asked just that, sometimes on multiple occasions every week. It got old very quickly – so imagine how we felt when we finally got our airdate.

Thursday 3 October 2024, at 5.15pm, on BBC One and BBC iPlayer. Tomorrow night, in other words (at least if you’re in the UK). I am excited and bricking it in equal measure, and I think a few other people might be feeling the same. It’s not every day you get a primetime audience, after all. Maybe you’ll be among them? If you are, I hope that you enjoy it, and that I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself.

I’ll see you on the other side…

Mason

New Year’s Day

As the first day of Freshers’ Week, today – if you work in higher education – almost felt more like New Year’s Day than 1 January itself. There’s a buzz around the campus again, the kind of buzz you miss when everyone’s away over the summer months. Its absence stands out like a sore thumb, but so does the warmth you feel when it returns. As it turns out, that warmth may well be conducive to creativity too. I’ve spent nearly every week since my last post scribbling waffle in my notebook to varying degrees of desperation, but ultimately, nothing I wrote had any life in it. Most of it stopped making sense in the end – I was flogging a dead horse. Happily, I don’t feel that way typing this. It feels like the fire underneath has been reignited, to an extent.

I gave four short appointments to students today, new faces who were each looking for part-time work. I obviously can’t go into detail about who I spoke to or what we discussed, but I can tell you that seeing them become visibly more relaxed about their prospects was immensely satisfying. There can’t be many situations where you can see weights lifted from people’s shoulders in real time. I always say that I’ve felt valued over the last 18 months, but that’s never been truer than it was today. I made a difference, however small, and when that happens you can’t possibly struggle for new material. There are virtues to extol, and not only in my professional life, but my personal life too. My archery beginner’s course looms on Saturday – the first session, at least. I’m looking forward to it, and to hitting more than the woodwork this time. I just need to make sure I build up my upper body strength a bit first, because those bows are tough without a decent pair of biceps. I’m sure I’ll let you know how it goes. Here’s hoping I have another reason to smile by next Monday!

Mason

The Woodwork

There have been times in the years since 2017 when I’ve assumed I’d never pick up a bow and arrow again. Not because I didn’t enjoy it, though – I was making up excuses in my head. After all, my last club, while welcoming, was fraught with obstacles and difficulties. Dad had to drive me there and back, I couldn’t go at all if the field was sodden, and in the winter we retreated to an indoor shooting range only accessible via a seemingly neverending flight of stairs. When I threw in the towel and left after just over a year, I had no reason to think any other club would be any different. Perhaps archery had put up yet another barrier that would be tricky or impossible to overcome. Mind you, that was before I lived in Winchester. There’s a club that meets 15 minutes – if that – from my flat, would you believe. What’s more, they were all too happy to let me have another go, so at 10am on Saturday morning that’s exactly what I did.

I must have been there for little more than half an hour, but it was well worth setting my alarm on a weekend for. I shot six arrows at 20 yards, the same distance I’d previously been used to. Two of those hit the wooden legs – but the woodwork’s still part of the target, isn’t it? It was exciting and I slotted back in very nicely, however rusty I may be. Besides, the beginner’s course they’ve recommended can sort that out. I don’t want to say too much for now in case it all comes to nothing, but I just wanted to bask in how much I enjoyed it, and the fact I pulled my finger out and made it happen. Given how naturally laid back I am, it would have been all too easy not to bother and restrict it to a pipe dream.

What next? The club will be in touch once a date has been agreed for the course, apparently. We’ll have to see what transpires, but I’m sure our paths will cross again before long. Even if I never shoot again, I need to return the wrist guard I forgot to take off!

Mason

Baby, Only You Can Burn Out This Fire

I saw that title as a piece of graffiti on a wall when our train pulled into Barcelona a few weeks ago, during our family holiday (it’s a beautiful city for another blog post). There was a lot scrawled over the crumbling, dusty stonework as we rattled along the tracks. Much of it was either meaningless to me or difficult to understand without a working knowledge of Spanish – but I was still drawn to each explosion of colour as it passed. By the time I spotted those words I was almost in a trance, but they snapped me out of it. I immediately found myself thinking about them.

As far as I could remember, they were the only words I’d seen in English since I’d read the signs at the station we’d left. Where had they come from? What did they refer to? Who – if anyone – were they aimed at? All of those questions would remain mysteries, but in that moment I felt they were speaking to me. I just wasn’t quite sure how to interpret them. Perhaps burnout can be defined as one of two things – either the widely recognised state of having drained oneself completely, having given something your all, or the opposite. Extinguishing what keeps you fired up, just through pure apathy. Admitting defeat and letting it win.

I probably sound like some kind of ridiculous lifestyle guru, but that’s not my intention at all. A couple of weeks ago, I got some news that will be tricky for me to process, but I also know that I can’t let it wash over me and blow that spark out. I have to look at the bigger picture, see what’s good about it and smile – because I’ll only have myself to blame for the consequences if I don’t. Who’d have thought that the view from a train in Spain could have given me such a handy motto as a reminder?

Mason

Blueberry Buttercream

What’s in a picture? Even the most unremarkable images have some kind of story to tell, and I was thinking about that as I panicked about what I’d write here next. This one was taken during a coffee and cake meeting I had with our departing student ambassadors early last week. Admittedly, when I snapped it (and I had to make the most of that blueberry cake, because I’d certainly paid for it), I probably wanted nothing more than social media likes. The most cherished – and most meaningless – form of 21st Century validation. Looking back on it, though, it’s more than that, because it’s attached to memories. Senses. The sight of smiling and friendly faces, the sweet taste of that rich blueberry buttercream. I savoured it all at the time, and by taking the photo, I could continue to do so for a little bit longer.

What’s in a picture? In this case, it’s calmness. Contentment. Gratitude. Friendship. Winchester’s own unique buzz and vibe. That slight dash of smugness you feel when your colleagues are working but you aren’t. Apart from all that, of course, it’s a celebration of all the small things that have made me happy – most of all, my stomach. Other people my age go travelling and plaster it all over the Internet, and that’s great, even though it does make my life look a little dull in comparison. I do this instead, and I might not be at the Grand Canyon or Great Barrier Reef, but I’m still soaking up every aspect of everyday life. Nobody should take that for granted, should they?

Mason

High Speed Thrill Ride

I must apologise for my absence of late. I know I’ve said that on many occasions, but I either couldn’t find anything worth writing, or I wrote forced and uninspired lines in the literary equivalent of pulling teeth. Then Friday came along. At long last, I was able to have the supercar passenger experience Louis had bought me for Christmas at Dunsfold Aerodrome – the former home of Top Gear. In an instant, I had exactly the kind of experience that should rightly be preserved on Third Time Enabled, one that left me grinning from ear to ear (as these photos will attest).

I’m not going to bore the non-petrolheads amongst you with too many details, though. I just want the record to show that it was a lot of fun, even though each of the four laps around the track frightened the life out of me! The first two were in a Lamborghini Gallardo LP560, while the latter two were in a Ferrari F430. I chose both cars from a list of ten, and even though it was a tough choice at first glance, I realised I had to go for the shouty, passionate Italian stallions – needless to say, they didn’t disappoint. My driver was a professional racer, too, so he was giving it the beans to say the least, and what conversation we did have was largely drowned out by the screaming V10 and V8 behind us. Not that he was fazed, flicking both cars smoothly from left to right as though he was moving a PlayStation joystick. He was as cool as a cucumber, directly contrasting with me as I suppressed a number of loud expletives. What a thrill though. What a thrill. There’s one thing I won’t be forgetting in a hurry – casually being told to keep my head against the headrest as he put his foot down, and the force hit me in the chest. For him, it was another day at the office doing what he did best, but I was totally knocked for six. Money well spent, I think you’ll agree. Thank you Louis, it was worth the wait without a doubt!

Mason