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

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

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

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

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

The Vault

The coffee shop – two or three weeks ago, or thereabouts – scribbling away…

Damn. I’ve used this notebook for the one thing I vowed I never would – talking shop. Jotting notes from meetings. In the past, that might have ruined it forever, tainted it to such an extent that I couldn’t use it again. It sounds silly, I know, but it’s always been too easy to feel like I’ve failed in my mission to use it for one purpose and one purpose only. But this time I’m ignoring that, pressing on and using it as a starting point instead. Anything will lend itself to a stream of consciousness if you give it a chance. Besides, as I may or may not have admitted to before, I owe it to Liz to put this book to good use, so that it doesn’t suffer the same fate as so many of its predecessors. And it’s no more useful than it is here, in the coffee shop, accompanying me as I slurp my way through a hot chocolate with plump marshmallows. It gives me precious respite from the screen time that dominates my week. I’ve saved it for precisely this moment, too. It’s approximately 4.30pm, and on a Saturday the place closes at 5pm. When they kick me out, I’ll emerge from warmth and sanctuary into chilly November air – but I’ll still be warmed by the twinkle of those familiar, inspiring lights. I love seeing them framed by steamed-up windows. It makes this feel like the cosiest place on Earth.

Christmas is coming!

Mason

Beyond The Wall Of Smiles

Remember that writing group I referred to recently, in one of Winchester’s coffee shops? I loved it, don’t get me wrong, but I haven’t been in a little while. To tell you the truth, work and other stuff – which you’ll find out about very soon – have been taking it out of me a little bit, and there’s the small matter of an ongoing Grand Prix season to consider too. I’d feel uncomfortable sitting at a table of writers knowing Martin Brundle was on his grid walk at home. Most of my Sunday afternoons between March and November are very antisocial.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about the group, though. More specifically, I’ve been thinking about what I wrote last time I went, in the notebook Liz gave me a couple of months ago. It seems pretty apt to share with you, talking about delaying going back to things. “Describe the scene,” they said, as I reached them that morning. “Describe everything you see, hear and feel in as much detail as possible.” Believe me, that was easy enough:

“The coffee shop is alive with the thrum of conversation, and music blasts throughout, but when I enter I know what’s in store. Beyond the wall of smiles at the counter, a trio of disapproving faces awaits me. My only hope is that when I reach them, they’re distracted by their writing, too immersed to even notice my arrival – but they aren’t, and they do. And they haven’t even started, because they’ve waited for me first. Curse my lateness. Turns out I didn’t know quite how long being ‘on my way’ would take.”

Mason

A Craig David Day

A lot of my posts start with a title, even before I have any idea of how to build what follows. I often have a starting point at the very least – the end of a thread which I can use to find my way through the rest of the labyrinth. Sometimes, though, that thread deserts me, and beyond the title there’s absolutely nothing. Consequently, a lot of the titles stack up in my Drafts section, left there to gather dust with no context whatsoever. I came to this blog today with the intention of writing something completely unrelated from scratch, but that was before I opened my Drafts and saw a trio that was too odd not to share with you. What do you make of these?

“A Craig David Day”

“The Only Escalator In Aberystwyth”

“Even My Computer Is Getting In On The Action”

It’s like they get weirder with each one (I honestly have no idea where I was going with the third). As you can see, I chose the first as the title of this post. Not only is it the snappiest of the three, but it’d also go straight to the top of any alphabetical list, which is always handy for a blog jostling to be noticed among a zillion others.

“7 Days” is an absolute tune too, of course…

Mason

One Sentence

I’ve referred every so often in these posts to writing prompts, or words and phrases that might make good ones. I then ask myself whether I’ll ever use them, but I don’t. If I’m honest, every time I mention one, I know full well it won’t see the light of day again. I don’t know whether that’s because of laziness, a lack of confidence, or the absence of a good idea, but whatever the case I don’t push it. It’s in those situations that I wonder what I’d write if I was put under pressure to come up with something, as I have been on occasion. Two weeks ago, I was tested in exactly that way when I attended a writers’ group at a coffee shop in Winchester.

It’s a place I’ve been a loyal customer of for a number of years now, but until that day I’d had no idea that they met in there. I approached them tentatively, notebook and pen on my lap. Unlike some of the others – including an ex-diver working on a memoir about his time exploring underwater caves in Mexico – I had nothing to share, because this was my first week and I needed to establish the lay of the land. Don’t get me wrong, I was still an active participant, but I kept relatively quiet, only dropping in the odd nugget of feedback here and there. This back-seat approach paid dividends, because it quickly allowed me to feel comfortable around the others and in what I was getting myself into. It wasn’t long before I was scribbling away without a care in the world, which is where the aforementioned prompt comes in.

“What I want you to do,” said the lady leading the session, “is to find the last message you sent on your phone, take it out of its original context, and use it as a starting point for a piece.” All I’m going to do now is present you with the line I found on WhatsApp, and the two-person dialogue that evolved from it. It’s amazing what you can manage when you’re given a little nudge in the right direction. In fact, I think it was enough of a nudge to convince me to go back again soon. Make of this what you will…

“Luckily, I won’t need it today, because I’m busy over lunch.”

“What are you so scared of anyway?”

“What am I scared of? What am I NOT scared of? This is huge!”

“It’s a coffee and a chat, and then you never have to see her again. My mother always said difficult conversations are best had quickly.”

“Or not at all?”

“Oh, come on!”

“It definitely will be difficult as well. She’s hardly the kind of person you can make small talk with. Everything’s either world politics or high culture, and there’s a time and a place for that.”

“Yes…”

(a beat, then the same character speaks again)

“So why did you agree to marry her then?”

Mason