Some Sunday Afternoon Thoughts

It's strange how the mind works. In this past week, I've finally sorted out my business accounts (with the help of a Quickbooks expert), I've attended one interview, have one booked and hope to get a third. And since all that has come to pass, I feel a little more relaxed, a little less anxious. Weekends are always easier but this is a much stronger feeling.  What a pleasant and novel sensation.

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I attended my interview as an London 2012 Olympics Games Maker yesterday afternoon - a volunteer helper in everyman language. My brief and easy interview was undertaken by a lesbian ex-Israeli army sergeant tank instructor who works for McDonalds. Who'd have thought?

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A friend ended their life this week. Whilst it became necessary for them to separate from their partner because of the effects of their troubling condition, their love for each other was, never  has been, in doubt. My friendship developed over a few short weeks, and was curtailed by 2 distinctly separate careers. We met a couple of times over the following 25 years and that friendship seemed to persist. I met the partner but once having tried to help at a troubling time. Since the suicide I see their posts on social media and I wish I could help more.
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I'm edging back into my running again, and it's almost enjoyable! (I have a place in the 2012 Virgin London Marathon). I seem to have got into a habit of running in the dark in the early evening. It seems to make the run shorter but sooner or later, as I up the miles, and as the days get longer, I'm going to have to venture, blinkingly, into the daylight. It just means a change of a barely formed habit. All do-able.
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Friendship's an odd thing. You can meet someone for a short period and then go your separate ways for many years and yet be permanent friends. Other friends come along and the friendship endures over many good years, and you see them intermittently but enjoy the time you spend with them, and wish those opportunities were more frequent. But then there are those people with whom one strikes up a friendship, who are likeable and whose company one enjoys and then you find out they're not quite who they say they are. It's clear it's a pathological thing that makes them fabricate but does that make them any less likeable? Time spent is enjoyable and a break from the routine and provided they don't perpetuate the stories they've spun, it seems churlish to cut the tie, even though one has been misled.