Political shift

I have become the person I hoped I would never be.

At university, I was very left-wing in my views and was outside the mainstream of all major political parties.

Then I because a member of the Labour Party and was generally happy with their political stance on most things.

At the last election, however, I could not bring myself to vote Labour. I cancelled my membership, gritted my teeth, and voted Lib Dem.

I now find myself, not disappointed in their coalition with the Tories, but admiring of their political courage in not being afraid of grasping power and taking tough decisions. Nick Clegg continues to impress me.

So whilst I know that many Lib Dem supporters are horrified, I maintain my support for the Coalition and the Lib Dem role in this. They have helped temper the excesses of the Tories. Of course they have had to compromise but, hey, they hold less than 10% of seats at Westminster. They are punching above their weight, doing it in the national interest and doing it sensibly.

Have I simply become a realist or is self-interest starting to drive my political views? I hope it is not the latter. But I have certainly shifted my political position. And, strangely, I am entirely comfortable with that.

I hope for some form of proportional representation, for gay marriage, for support for a multi-cultural Britain, for assisted suicide, for rehabilitation of prisoners, and for resistance to faith schools. I remain socially progressive. But I am becoming economically prudent.

Maybe it's an age thing.

Spanish therapy

We have just returned from 10 days in Malaga. It was a very relaxing break after months of stress both at work and with the move. I don't think I had realised how stressed and tired I was until I slept for about 12 hours on each on my first couple of nights in Malaga, got up, went to the beach and promptly fell asleep again!

Andrew had suggested that I go into the local travel agent just down from our flat in Malaga and see if we could go somewhere for a few days while we were there. Delphin, the agent, speaks no English, so I was quite proud of myself in explaining what we wanted and understanding what she was proposing. I booked a 5 days cruise out of Malaga stopping at Portimao, Lisbon and Tangier on an all-Spanish vessel with ibero Cruceros.

It was a really good cruise and amazing value. We paid £240 each and this included the cruise, all port taxes, all food and, amazingly, all drink. We certainly took advantage of this latter offer with our champagne cocktails and copious quantities of quality wine with dinner. I had booked the cheapest lower deck inside cabin; we were upgraded to a higher deck superior outside cabin - I know not why! And I loved Lisbon.

We finished with four sunny days in Malaga, mainly relaxing on the beach, though we did go into Torremolinos for a huge gay exhibition of holidays, clothes, furnishings etc etc. I cooked my usual Zarzuela one evening and we had a couple of meals in the superb Vino Mio restaurant. I read some books, watched some DVDs and generally chilled out. Just what I needed.

A stranger in my bedroom

I had asked for a fitted wardrobe to be put into bedroom 2 before I moved. But Weston Homes said that because of the short timescale between exchange and completion, they would have to do this after I had moved in. So I gave them a key and they did it on the first Wednesday after I moved in. A painter was then due to come to cover up the work.

On the Friday at 6 a.m. I was lying in bed when I heard someone come into my flat using a key. He walked down the corridor and came straight into my bedroom. ¨Hello´, I said (sadly I could think of nothing more original to say. ). He immediately jumped back, very startled. I turned out that this was the painter, who had been told the flat was empty and had decided to do the work early.

I have to say it is not often that a complete stranger walks into my bedroom at 6 a.m. uninvited.

Honest.

Tired but content

I am exhausted.

After moving home I had to prepare for our annual conference and then go up to Stratford-upon-Avon to help run it. I was responsible for the quiz at the pre-conference icebreaker event and for the AGM. I also was room monitor for a number of sessions and of course available at all times to answer questions.

But it all went very well and was a successful three days in terms of organisation, content and finances.

I got home last Thursday and was up at 4 am on Friday to get to Luton for the flight to Aberdeen. I am now in Keith to try to look after my Dad and sort out his future. I return to London tomorrow.

We then have a big Executive meeting on Wednesday which needs a lot of preparation.

Then we head for Spain and hopefully some relaxation. Much needed.

Busy busy busy

Last week I wanted to enjoy my new home. Indeed I just wanted to unpack. But I had to go in to work every day. And now I am gearing up for our annual conference this week in Stratford-upon-Avon. And getting stressed about it. Immediately after the conference, I have to go to Scotland to see my Dad whose health is declining. So I have no time to relax. I am finding this very difficult. I'll be glad when we get to next Sunday, though even then I have a work deadline of 6 Oct to meet and no real time to do the work involved. Pressure & stress. It is not much fun.

Moved in

Yep. I am now in my new home.

Yesterday was not without last minute hassles. My solicitor had not received the signed copy of the lease that I sent on Friday same-day recorded delivery. Then they found it. My buyers solicitor sent £100 less than expected; transpired that they want indemnity insurance on garage repairs carried out 10 years ago and expect me to pay for that. Which I have had to do. My solicitors wanted a closure document from my bank. That took time. My removal men took away my vacuum cleaner so that I could not give the old flat a final clean - probably not important as the buyers are ripping up the carpet anyway.

But finally at about 2.30 p.m. we had completion. And the removal guys started to put my furniture into the new place.

So here I am. Now living in Hertford. Surrounded by boxes.

I enjoyed a half-hour in the evening sitting on the balcony, glass of wine in hand, watching the ducks on the river below and the sun setting in the distance. It was wonderful.

Sadly I am at work today - and the first train I tried to catch from Hertford East, the 7.39, was cancelled! And I am really busy. So it will be the weekend before I can get rid of most of the boxes and start to feel really relaxed.

But hey - I have moved. And it feels great.

D-day minus 1

I am surprisingly nervous and apprehensive. I keep thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I am especially concerned that my buyer may not have the money ready with his solicitor for tomorrow morning and hence delay the move. I feel that perhaps my stuff will be in the removal van but not get clearance to start unloading at the other end.

However I need to try to just focus on the last-minute things today. The final clearing and cleaning. Making sure all my stuff for moving is in boxes. And making sure that I am calm.

Okay, time to get on with it.

D-day minus 2

It's all coming together. The money is with my solicitor awaiting completion on Monday. I have done another trip to the Council tip. I have given three wardrobes and two chests of drawers to Ann, the Irish girl who came for my cooker - a random act of kindness which at least means that someone will make use of them. So my bedroom is looking bare. I have cleared most of the stuff from the garage and now most of the stuff from my kitchen. I have done my final washing.

A few more things to do today, then tomorrow I clear up the final few things and give the flat a good clean. Then, I hope, I move on Monday. Please.

D-day minus 3

I have packed most of my stuff in boxes. My money is with the solicitor. I have signed all the documents. And so I am close to moving home. Still some final clearing to be done, but I am ready for the move. Bring it on.

Yes sometimes it has seemed like one step forwards two steps back. I feel I am reinventing the wheel and meeting obstacles that so many others have faced but I am getting there.

I am excited and apprehensive in equal measure.

Getting closer

Today I exchanged contracts on my purchase. So suddenly it is all legal. I have sold and bought a property.

The last few days have been frustrating. At the last minute I found that under the Chancel Repairs Act of 1932, I might be liable for the cost of repairs to the Chancel of the local parish church. Not something I had envisaged when I decided to but a new-build flat. I have taken out indemnity insurance against that possibility.

I would love to go to sleep for a few days and simply wake up in the new flay. But instead, I have a lot of work to do in clearing the old flat, getting rid of furniture, and preparing for the move.

And then the start of a new life.

Moving on

Monday was such an emotional roller-coaster. My sale was off. Then it was on. Then the buyer's solicitor had a major problem. Then he didn't.

Suddenly at 5.30 we exchanged contracts. So now I have sold my flat. Huge relief. Completion date is 20th September.

Mind you I have not exchanged contracts on my purchase. The local authority searches have not been received. So either I exchange without these or I could be homeless on 20th September.

Nothing is easy in property sales/purchases in England.

So I just keep my fingers crossed.

And this weekend I will be busy clearing out the old flat. Charity shop and Council dump, here I come.

Hitting a snag

I am feeling a lot of stress. Partly this is because September is a busy month at work culminating in the annual conference in Stratford-upon-Avon at the end of the month. Partly because AOL is playing up and I am not always able to get an internet connection. Partly because I am having problems topping-up the money on my pay-as-you-go phone. But mainly there are two causes of the stress.

I have just come back from Scotland. My Dad's health is deteriorating and I really do not know whether I should start the process to put him into a care home. His eyesight is failing, his walking is more difficult, his prostate problems are interrupting his sleep and he is generally very lonely. And I live 600 miles away.

The biggest problem, though, is that my flat sale has fallen through. I think. My prospective buyers wanted to knock down a couple of walls and build an en-suite. The lease states that this requires the approval of the other residents. They have witheld that approval. I will find out tomorrow for sure if the buyers are pulling out. If they do, then I will likely lose my purchase. And we will be back where we were over a month ago apart from the fact that I will have incurred around £1,500 in lawyers fees.

And my b/f is currently away in Gran Canaria so I do not have a shoulder to cry on.

So I am stressed.

Moving Home (fingers crossed)

So far so good, but I don't want to tempt fate.

I have told my solicitors, my buyers solicitors and the estate agent that I want to get to exchange of contracts by 31 August. Only then can I really start to look forward to my new home, throw out old furniture, plan the removal etc.

I have answered all of the solicitors queries, signed all the forms, and agreed to make all the payments. My buyer has had my flat surveyed and been round with a builder to ascertain the work he wants to do. And there have been no negative comments from that.

I guess the local authority searches are on-going and a slow local authority (is there any other type?) could slow things down. And, worryingly, I understand that my buyers mortgage is not quite finalised. So things could still go wrong.

And of course I occasionally have second thoughts. I have been twice to the Council tip with stuff I have thrown out. I have twice been to a charity shop to give them staff that is still worth something. I have put some stuff up for sale on Gumtree. However I still have a lot of items that I won't have room for but which I do not want to throw out. Some are old photographs. Some are old papers. Some are pictures and ornaments that I have collected on my travels over the years - plates from Iran, paintings from Siberia, carvings from India etc. I worry about not having a garage.

But generally I am really looking forward to the new home, to swimming in the local pool in the morning before work, having a shorter walk to the station, joining the local tennis club, maybe joining a drama club, cycling along the banks of the River Lea, taking walks to new places, sipping a Pinot Grigio while sitting on the balcony etc.

Scary and stressful. But also exciting.

This photo shows Hertford with my flat shown in the middle of the photo near the top, just past Tesco and Hertford East station. My balcony, facing away from the camera, overlooks the river and the Meadows beyond. Maybe, just maybe, I could be living there by this time next month.

Moving home (2)

So far so good. My prospective purchaser has had a survey done on my current flat and has come round with his builder to ascertain what work he wants to do before moving in. Apparently he wants to put in an en-suite. He remains keen to buy.

The solicitor has sent me a wadge of documents to complete, which I have done.

Weston Homes, the builder of the flat I am hopefully moving to, have agreed to put in a fitted wardrobe into bedroom 2 as well as fit vertical blinds to all windows, all within the purchase price, which is good.

And I have started to try to tidy up. I have made one visit to the municipal waste disposal area with a load of junk, and have also taken some stuff to the local charity shop.

And I have alternated between huge excitement and sheer panic. Which, I guess, is to be expected.

As I said, so far so good.

Moving home (maybe)

A week ago I had not even had my flat valued.

Since then the estate agent has given it a suggested value, I agreed to put it on the market, I received (and accepted) an offer within 24 hours, and finally I agreed to buy another property. Wow. A busy and eventful week.

I don't have to move. I quite like living in New Barnet - it is handy for the station and for my tennis and golf clubs. My flat needs some work doing to it, but I could have arranged for that to have been done.

But I have never really liked my flat or the block I am living in. And I would like to be further out into the country. I also want to live in a property that I could see myself living in for the rest of my life (which I hope will still be a long time).

Initially I had thought I would like to move to Welwyn Garden City. But then I discovered Hertford. Over the past few days, I have viewed a number of properties. Some were bigger than others. Some were older than others. Most were flats; one was a house. A decision had to be made. It came down to two properties - a terraced house in Welwyn Garden City with a garden and loads of storage space or a new-build flat in Hertford in an ideal location with views to die for but almost no storage space. Head or heart?

In the end, Heart won. With a late goal in extra time!

I have plumped for Hertford. I like the idea of new build. This flat has a balcony with views over the River Lea to meadow land beyond. It is a dual aspect flat which would get the morning sum in the lounge and the evening sun in the bedrooms. I will see the sunset from the balcony. It is very close to Hertford East station from where the train goes to Liverpool Street station, which is close to where I work. There is a Tesco beside the station. Hertford is a quaint historical town with unique shops, a theatre, a Saturday market, many places to eat and a good selection of pubs. The River Lea is right outside the flat; there a bicycle and walking trails which go for miles beside the river to Ware and beyond; there is a canoeing base opposite the flat, tennis courts a hundred yards away and a gym and swimming pool also a hundred yards away. And if we end up living in Spain, I can let out the flat for at least £1,000 per month which would be useful ancillary income.

Yes I am going to be challenged in the fact that I will have to seriously cut down on things I currently have because space is limited. I will need to throw out old ornaments, old golf clubs, clothes I haven't worn for ages, etc. etc. But I want an uncluttered life and I think that physical uncluttering can help mental uncluttering. And I love the thought of sipping a crisp Chardonnay sitting on the balcony watching the summer sun set over the fields beyond. Or being able to go for a short walk into the meadows along the riverbank. And if I am fortunate to still have years ahead of me, this flat will still work even if my walking abilities are curtailed.

This is what the block looks like -






I realise that the property moving process is still fraught with uncertainties. I now rely on my buyer to stick with the process. So, with fingers crossed, I am excited and feeling really positive about the next phase of my life.

Funeral

Yesterday I attended Brian's funeral. A very sad occasion. It also gave me the opportunity to give thanks for Brian's friendship and to celebrate his integrity, his goodness and his gentleness.

And of course such sad occasions make me realise that many of the things that I think are problems for me are in reality fairly trivial things. It made me realise my good fortune in having reasonable health, and has given me the impetus to ensure that I use that good fortune to be a kind and supportive person to others.

The service itself was very high church; a full Catholic Mass in the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Farm Street, London. Since that church meant a lot to Brian, it was entirely fitting that it should be there. However for me the service was too far removed from its central purpose. It was about a general affirmation of faith from the congregation and little about the person whose passing we were marking.

I just know that Brian was taken from us too soon and I hope that he Rests in Peace.

Immobile

A couple of weeks ago I played 4 competitive games of tennis in 4 days. As a result of which, I hurt my foot.

Bit sore, but no big deal.

Then on Tuesday, the eve of my 5 day golfing visit to Wales, I was just walking to work when 'Owwww'. A pain shot up my leg. Now I have a severely sprained foot and can hardly walk.

The trip to Wales had to be cancelled and I have spend 5 days immobile in the flat doing little but watching the British Open on TV. And still my foot is sore.

I managed to go to work today, but that was a mistake as the foot is more painful than ever this evening.

It is all deeply frustrating.

The Lottery of Life (2)

A few months ago, I blogged about the random nature of life and luck. I thought about this again this week. At the start of the week, an elderly relative died. In the middle of the week, a good friend, roughly my age, was found dead in his flat. And at the end of the week, another relative was killed by a car.

The first death was of someone who was 89 and had been ill. So was not really a surprise nor could really be said to be a tragedy.

But the second person was my age, was someone I had worked with and had not been ill. He had been made redundant from the SouthBank Centre 5 years ago, as had I. Whereas I was lucky to get another job immediately, and had viewed my redundancy as an opportunity to get out of a job I was increasingly hating, he had difficulties getting suitable work and had grown increasingly bitter about the forced redundancy. I do not yet know the circumstances of his death, but it reminds me that, whenever I get a bit down, I am still very fortunate.

To compound the feeling that life is a lottery, the person who told me of that death, also someone of my age, revealed that he has recently been diagnosed with cancer.

And the third death was very ironic in its circumstances. A relative, living in the USA, who had recently retired after 50 years working in the Salvation Army. Someone who was deeply religious. He died when he was hit by a car - in the church car park! Just when he was looking forward to retirement.

On the other side of the coin, over the weekend I was in Ipswich with a group of friends, again most of around my age, and some of whom have been able to retire early with no real worries about money. Someone I played tennis with last week, has a new expensive car and a huge house.

So what is the lesson of all of this? I suppose it is one of acceptance of the cards which life has dealt, keeping envy at bay when others seem to have been dealt a better hand, but awareness that still others were dealt much worse hands.

Ths breeds a determination to make the best of the hand one has. I want to live the rest of my life as best I can, and as energetically as I can, being friendly and supportive to others, always wanting to learn and experience more of life, being able to give and receive love, planning for the future but not being constrained by the planning process. And trying to help those who need my help, whilst still forging out a unique path for myself.

Wow. That all sounds a bit serious, a bit restrictive, a bit analytical. Let's just get on with life and remember that life is for living and not for just existing; for being open to new experiences; for living 30,000 days and not living one day 30,000 times. Starting today.

Antwerp

I love Antwerp. It is a city of contrasts and variety. A city of art and culture. A city of diamonds and fashion. A city of bars and clubs. Hustle and bustle and lots to do - yet a quiet serenity on the shores of the river Schelde. And all takes place within a very walkable, manageable heart.

Last week, for the third time in three years, we were in Antwerp, this time for the annual convention of the International Gay and Lesbian Travel Association (IGLTA). Andrew, through his company, AMRO Worldwide, has been a member of IGLTA for 8 years. He is committed to working with IGLTA and to hopefully contributing to its success. I enjoyed the convention, though I do find the networking difficult. I not naturally gregarious and as both a Brit and someone who does not run a travel business, I felt that I was a bit of an outsider.

It was good to see IGLTA having a convention in Europe. They do passionately believe that they should be an international organisation and not perceived as purely an American one. We hope we can help them in this aim. However they do make some unfortunate errors in this regard. They instituted a new series of awards at this convention, the IGLTA Honors. I do think they could have chosen a word that did not have a different spelling on each side of the pond. Using the American spelling will reinforce the perception that they are fundamentally an American organisation.

Nonetheless, I wish them well. AMRO remains a huge supported of IGLTA and will continue to work with them and will encourage travel businesses in Europe to join IGLTA..

Another strange aspect of the weekend was that AMRO has a mascot, Amro Bear, with its own facebook page. So we had to take the bear to Antwerp to take some photos of it. And here they are. I did get some strange looks as I walked round Antwerp with a teddy bear taking photos of it!

The body in the garden (2)

This morning's Press and Journal carried the story of the body found at the bottom of my Dad's garden. But without adding much. Yes the body was found by the paper boy at 7.15 a.m. - about an hour before I arrived. The body has still not been identified. And the cause of death is being described as uncertain. Not suspicious, but equally not, so far, as natural causes.

Later in the day, I found out rather more. The deceased is Davy Leighton, a resident of the same sheltered housing complex in which my Dad lives. Indeed I have passed Davy Leighton's room each evening on my way to the guest room. As a further irony, I knew Davy Leighton from the time he was Secretary at Keith Golf Club. And had spoken to him when I was up in Keith at Easter.

The word in Keith is that he had been knocked down by a car on Friday morning but refused medical treatment. On Friday evening he went to the pub. And that is the last that is known until his body was found on Saturday morning. Presumably he collapsed on his way home on Friday evening. I left my Dad's house at about 10.45 pm on Friday. If I had been any later, I might have seen Davy Leighton returning home and might have been able to help.

It is all very sad. And a real example of how tenuous life can be.