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the Biography: a summing upAs I settled in to re-write this passage yet again, it occured to me that, in terms of biographical interest, I wasn't certain that there was much that I could offer. So, for the aforementioned few people who care, here follows something of an open letter: I am now well into my thirty-second year. I say as much without the customary whinging or flailing about that often accompanies the thirty year announcement, for the simple reason that my thirtieth birthday came ten days after the birth of my first child, an event which was followed fifty-two minutes later by the birth of my second child. Things rather fell into perspective after that, and, after all, hungry ten-day-old children do not know that it is your birthday. They simply want to know whether or not you're going to stop mucking about with the bottle and get on with the feeding. So, in a nutshell, thirty flitted by largely unnoticed, aside from the welcome receipt of a VHS copy of 'Planet of the Daleks' from my ever-thoughtful family, who know my tastes all too well. However, there have been some changes - most notably the termination of my marriage. I fought it harder than I can easily communicate to even those four or five of you out there who know me well, who know what I was in days long gone. But in the end, the determination of my now-ex (bad construction, so drag me up before a magistrate again), my quondam femme (again, sue me - two different languages, but it says what I want it to say)...her energy devoted to ending our decade-long partnership overcame my battle to keep it together. There's a point at which fighting any longer would only have done greater harm, and that point was reached. I would have given anything for that not to be the case. Now, however, I must concentrate on the future, and building a proper life and home for my children. If I happen to stumble into happiness along the way, then so much the better. Funny, though, that a certain Anthony remarked, before he realised the enormity of what he had said: 'I thought that something had happened, because you seem happier now.' Mind you - after that brief moment of honesty, he reverted to his usual persona...that of a complete and utter bastard (only kidding, old man - don't set the dogs on me). The twins, however, are wonderful in spite of everything, and I am heartily proud of them, and value every moment that I have with them. Ian Griffin was born at 12.06am on 23 February 2001. His sister, Alexandra Grace, followed him at 12.58am, after some confusion with her directions (clearly the map provided was inadequate, but I can't take any responsibility for that). At this writing, they are now slightly over two years of age, nearly three feet tall, prone to smiling, laughing, rolling chaotically, demanding to watch 'The Wiggles' (have I mentioned that, like Susan in 'Coupling', I have a thing for Australians? - albeit not quite in the way she did) or 'Kipper the Dog' (hurrah - Martin Clunes does dog voices - and they're bloody brilliant). I'm determined to keep them from the evil that is Barney as much as I am able, but I regret to say that so much is not always possible, as I haven't been able to convince their daycare that Barney is really a purple incarnation of the devil. The old gallery of children's photos is here. Really must get some new pictures up... I work for a firm that publishes small, shiny brochures for builders of custom homes - my business card claims that I am the 'Network Administrator / Advertising Coordinator', which is a nice way of saying that I'm underpaid. With the periodic help and welcome advice of some of my more computer-literate colleagues (two spring to mind), I maintain a mixed network of Macintoshes and Wintel PCs, and deal with a huge number of database entries and vast quantities of advertising materials. In my free time, I am still writing, and doing some research, mainly for the web site, which has taken on new life (well, something had to). Most recently, I have started writing in earnest again, and taken up again on what was to have been a new novel, which I may actually finish. It is an exciting tale about a correspondance between two of my favourite composers, but for fear of someone poaching my neat idea, I'm not going to tell you which two. Those who know me well can probably guess, if they actually listen to my interminable ramblings. Trust me - it will be better than that sounds. Additionally, I have decided that it is time to give this ramshackle site a thorough going-over, so those of you devoted readers (four or five at last count) may look for the long-promised updates at some time in the near future. I had reached a point where I wasn't going to bother any longer, for various reasons. However, recently, I have changed my mind once again, so gently forward we go... Goals for the future have also been recently re-evaluated, and I can now state them clearly. I intend to find a job that I enjoy, and which feels like what I am meant to be doing (as well as one that continues to pay the rent), I am not altogether certain that finding such a job is possible, but I am going to have a go once more, and, this time, I will trust my instincts (it was not trusting them that put me amongst the infidels and the imbeciles of the past - I will admit, though, that since I was cast adrift I have found that some of my ill-humour may have derived more from my home life than from my work life). I will, as soon as circumstance permits, be returning to graduate school, for a degree in one of three possible areas: history, English literature, or education. I'm leaning toward English literature, preferrably dealing with 20th century British authors. Eventually, I intend to teach, unless my career in writing takes on a new and lucrative life. We shall see how long those desire remains uppermost in my mind. Additionally, and perhaps most importantly, a novel will be completed and published, followed, or perhaps preceded, by the traditional slim volume of verse. These are the things that I most desire to finish. This last bit isn't really biographical, but I need to say it. Too many good people are gone from the world, and let me here just take note of a few of them: Douglas Adams (I literally cried when I read the news on the Beeb's site, one otherwise perfectly good May morning, which was embarassing as I was at work, but it didn't matter - the world is poorer without him), Paul Eddington (so much for a reunion of 'The Good Life' cast - and it makes me all the sadder), Stephen Jay Gould, Sir Alec Guinness, Richard Harris, Nigel Hawthorne (no 'Yes, Prime Minister' reunion now, either, not to sound petty), Kirsty MacColl (the guy down the chip shop still swears he's Elvis, but he's got a tear in his eye), Ian Messiter, Spike Milligan, Joe Strummer, John Thaw - I know that I've forgotten some, but that's what updates are for. To all family and friends, please accept my heartfelt condolences. Fans of Douglas Adams may even feel a pricking at the back of their eye when they check out the BBC's revised web-cast of the lost 'Doctor Who' story - 'Shada', which, of course, was one of three which Adams penned for the series. Lalla Ward, Paul McGann and John Leeson are featured - so check it out. And that leaves me where I am at this very moment - blasting some lively tune (through headphones, it's late), or reading a book that was recommended to me, by an author I haven't tried before. It's not to late to learn new tricks, after all. Maybe I'll be contrary and move on to something a little bit more bluesy and basic for an encore in the music department...it all depends. So, for now, thanks to everyone, and best wishes to all, with the exception of those who don't merit them (and you know who you are). Drop a line if you wish - I'll be about. Now back to my impression of Rob Hirst. - WGN, 5 july 2003 PS - If you email me, then you might just as well call me. I'm not a really reliable...well, I was going to limit it to 'correspondant', but that might be mistating the truth. I have been phenomenally unreliable in my life, but I'm much better now. I'm still clumsy on first dates, though, and probably second dates, too. Drop me a line for the new numbers. You know who you are, messieurs and mesdames. |