You’re Havin a Larf…

A lot of people try to take advantage of others and play games. They may have cunning ploys. They may try to snoop and spy on others, to gather information from insiders and do anything they can to get an upper hand. They may ask multiple opinions. They may overestimate the quality of their source material and imagine that ancient data and accounts are still valid. People who imagine themselves smart, in the know and “clever” can get themselves into all sorts of messes. They may enjoy playing “secret squirrels”. They may imagine an idea to be good when it is not. Because they are, of course, infallible.

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I have never appointed a spokesperson or a port-parole.

Anyone claiming to speak on my behalf is a fraud, a shyster and a downright lying bastard.

Self-perception may differ significantly from that held by others. If people are trying to take advantage of, or use others, they might assume a complete hoodwinking success, that they have fooled another and that their ways are opaque to the deceived. Rarely does it occur that their moves are transparent. They do not imagine that they have been read, seen through and their shenanigans noted. Nor do they note the fall in opinion or respect held of them by the gullible mark.

If someone is taking the piss by their behaviour it may not occur that someone is taking the piss back at them and in spades.

For example if someone asks me a stupid question, I reserve the right to respond in an equally stupid way. I don’t care about being right or winning an argument so I could feed you the opportunity to “win” to see if you take the bait. It is surprising how many do!

Once I have disengaged, I feel free to take the piss back. Depending on where you are coming from you may not notice.

In my book if you are having a laugh or playing silly buggers then so can I. I generally have less “to prove” than most and don’t care if I look like a fool or a pikey yokel. I have no sophisticated image and I for defo am not a big cheese…

If someone is “havin a larf” there are a number of options open. One of these is to confront, another is to ignore. One can let things play to see how deep a shitter people like to dig for themselves. One can do a runner. One can do something completely and utterly unexpected.

People don’t really know what is going on in someone else’s head no matter how clever and cunning they deem themselves to be. There is a tendency to overestimate one’s perspicacity.

Some have world views and world assimilations that are markedly different from from ours, from yours. Yes, yours.

Late night we watched a film “Den osynlige”

The Invisible (Swedish: Den osynlige) is a 2002 Swedish film directed by Joel Bergvall and Simon Sandquist, very loosely based on Mats Wahl’s book of the same name. The film follows Niklas, a young and quiet man who falls short of his mother’s expectations and then finds himself attacked by a neglected young girl Annelie (she too, is metaphorically invisible) and left for dead. The next morning, however, he discovers that no one can see, hear or feel him, and anything he does to try and communicate is reversed; he is in a Limbo-like state between life-and-death, and must find out his ‘murderer’ and save his body before it’s too late. The film stars Gustaf Skarsgård, Tuva Novotny and Thomas Hedengran in the leads.”

In that film Niklas whilst in limbo gets to see his “friends” and classmates talking about him behind his back when he lies dying in the woods. People are generally only loyal to those present, the absent are fair game. It is a good film and shows how the inflicted expectations of others can fuck you up. Most “social” beings do not understand how brutal, nasty and petty the wielding of that societal shoehorn is.

They carry on regardless like clowns repeating the same folly, over and over. They can even think it is funny!!

They can however be badly mistaken… …

Challenges – Genetics – Having to Endure – Lama Dorje

A working hypothesis I have is that because I do not strut about, talk a lot and generally bullshit, people feel that I am need of education by them. Somehow, they are kind enough to bestow the benefit of their grandiose and unsolicited opinion on me so that I, a mere lowly pleb, might learn from their magnificence. So many offer me their opinions. Obviously, I am in dire need of education.

It is a catch 22. Do you let them rabbit on {endlessly} or flash intellect and make them feel more insecure than they already are. I don’t have an answer. Neither works well.

You may infer from the above that I am an arrogant arsehole. Your reflection in the mirror which is me may not reveal my essence.

Given all the tests in a medical sense that I am having its sounds a bit like someone meandering around in search of some kind of elusive diagnosis of sorts. That could be the case. Or it could simply be the generosity of the French healthcare system in action. The tendency for prophylaxis here is higher than in the UK.

The “health” finger continues to point at genetics. There is a non-normal make up, perhaps. Maybe I am special, so fucking special, or a creep, or a weirdo.

In my extensive recapitulations there is a recurring theme, “having to endure”. I have had to endure all sorts of things starting with bullying at school(s) and being gossiped about extensively, especially when my back was turned and I was not there. I am not paranoid; I have anecdotal evidence in support of this tendency. People curry favour by gossiping and in the past, they have claimed power by association to me. Those days are long gone.

I have an inkling that the current health drama belongs to the subset of “having to endure” challenges. There is little I can do; I simply have to endure and remain calm.

Śāntideva in the Bodhicaryāvatāra, has a whole chapter on forbearance. Bodhidharma was rumoured to have sat watching a wall for nine years.

Maybe one day instead of enduring I may give both barrels. I doubt many could handle it if I ramped up to 9/10 face to face with them. It would be very intense. Outside of experience.

The other working hypothesis I have is that I am tangentially involved in the drama, schemes and socio-political shenanigans of others. The thing is they are over “there” and I am only truly involved in their illusions. People make shit up; they make a drama out of it and somehow, I am caught up in their imaginations. I am written into their imaginary scripts.

I used to wear black Levi’s 501 jeans for decades. I now wear army surplus combat trousers. This dress makes me look a bit like a pikey prepper. I do not look for one minute like an ex-intellectual or the co-founder of a high technology high power laser company. So people tend, in the first instance, to talk down to me, even worse I do not speak high quality French, God’s only intellectual language. I must therefore be an idiotic stupid moron. They judge a book by their mis-interpretation of the cover. The French are as, if not more, arrogant than the English.

What can you do? Let them rabbit on {endlessly}. There is no point in trying to change their habits or self-opinion.

The wife and I have a joke. If I wore Buddhist robes people would treat me entirely differently. If they saw me thus attired in their dreams, they would find it weird.

“Alan always wore jeans in life!!”

There is a part of me that might order some robes on line and do a TikTok type experiment. Go in jeans to an estate agent one day and in robes the next…

But that would be fucking about…

Is there some as yet unseen diagnoses?

Or am I simply enduring the Gattling gun fire of multiple medical tests and appointments?

The current bet is towards the latter…

Bumpkins Go to Saint Helier

It is very difficult to get across to most people just how out of touch we are with modern living and specifically people density and noise. Aside from medics, tradesmen and checkout people, I speak with nobody other than the wife. This has been the case for quite a while, over six years. I have spoken in person to/with her brother and friends when they visited. I have had very few zoom type calls in that six year period. Certainly, less than two dozen. I do not speak on the ‘phone. Nor do I chat via email or WhatsApp whatever the hell that is.

In many ways I am a bumpkin, a pikey and a hermit. I am no longer accustomed to “sophistication” nor the high octane pace of somewhere like Saint Helier Jersey. {Population~ 30k}

I am unaccustomed to any social interaction.

Part of the purpose of visiting Jersey was to see how it felt to be surrounded by people and anglophone people at that. It is fair to say that I am still a little shell shocked. We were out of the compound for less than 48 hours and in the Metropolis for 24.

The fist thing I noted was just how frantic and ill at ease people were. The energy they were giving off was edgy and wanting to please, to fit in. The manager at Pizza Express asked us if we wanted the app…Why? I don’t use apps and we have not been to a Pizza Express for more than six years. I did not even have a ‘phone.

The people in Jersey seemed rushed and hassled compared to here. And boy were they loud when bullshitting each other. I noted several chunky “personal trainer” types, keen to exploit the Jersey dollar for fitness and “well-being”. There is money and it attracts.

The only calm experience, outside interaction, I had was when I sat on the bench outside M&S and a well-heeled woman older than me sat next. Neither of us were rushed. We shared silence for a few minutes. She went into Givenchy. The main street was a bit like a cross between high street Guildford and Bond Street London.

Jersey is clean and “posh”. It is also surprisingly multi-national with people there to meet the services sector demand. I used to hang out in posh places, South Kensington and earlier Mayfair / Piccadilly. I lived in Brixton.

The hotel we stayed at was very nice. We ate at the hotel restaurant. They played loud “party” music and people outside on the terrace were necking booze and smoking or vaping. The food was good and the service very, perhaps overly, quick. There was noise and laughter outside. I thought to myself that once I used to do that kind of thing. I would have been content as a Brit on the piss. It all seemed more than a little forced and false. It was hurried. There were ostentatious handshakes and kissy-kissy helloes.

I was the alien from another planet. I was able to order, in English, food from the pygmy African waitress. I was observing, earth.

The rheumatologist suggested we move to Jersey for the “quality of life”. It did not seem that attractive to me. How do you explain quiet tranquillity with no social interaction and a gentle river running through the garden? That has quality and not a constant needy need for social interaction and social affirmation. There is no need for endless consumption, conspicuous or otherwise.

I am still sighing a little, a whole day later.

What is obvious from that visit is that it is probably not wise to live in a “built-up” area and that I do not miss the people in whose country I once lived. I do not need that English vibe.

It might be possible to live in the countryside and visit an urban “metropolis” when there is a need.

Unfortunately, I am like a sponge and can pick up all that emitted jangly nervous energy. It made “in town” sleeping hard.

Theoretically It would be possible to earn money tutoring wealthy kids in physics and chemistry on Jersey. But I don’t think there is anywhere there far enough away from “civilization”.

If I found Jersey difficult to hack, London would cause a complete meltdown.

Did I really get on the Victoria Line every weekday morning during rush hour? Really? And without any medication?

In terms of incarnation that seems like the most surreal incarnation that I have ever had.

Still more than a little shell shocked after only a very brief jaunt…

Raman Spectroscopy – Lost Marbles – Dream 02-08-2024

In no way did I think about any of these individuals during the day. I have not met any of them in person for nearly two decades and in two cases more than that.

I am in some kind of office / seminar room taking with AP. He wants to know why I am there. I say that I am following up on an ex-student of mine and how things are going with the Raman spectroscopy.  Tony says that they have switched him to a rig with a CW laser of lower power which will mean longer acquisition time. I say he will just have to count for longer.

In walks DP, my Ph.D. supervisor. He seems a little anxious. He says that he would like to have a frank conversation with me. I say that I am fine with that. He comments that “they” thought I had completely lost the plot, lost my marbles and gone off the rails. I say that I always note that the collective noun for a group of academics is a gossip of academics.

He reiterates that they thought I was psychologically ill.

 I say, “And you did nothing?”

He says that they were nervous and did not know how to handle the situation.

I say that that was a bit shit and demonstrated a very low level of courage and poor interpersonal skills. It was a bit pathetic and all Basil Fawlty.

He says that they thought I had gone a bit pikey.

I gesture with my right hand at my immaculate suit and shiny black leather shoes. I point at my oxford button down collar shirt and neat tie. I can see that this does not fit his perception.

I walk out of the room and head out of campus onto Exhibition Road. I light up a cigarette whilst at the edge of campus. A security guard admonishes me. I mentally give him the finger.

I walk down towards the tube and after I have finished the cigarette I walk into the foyer of the science museum.

There is a pair of light blue handled aluminium walking sticks available for use and I use these to help with my arthritis. As I walk deeper into the building I bang into RC. He clearly recognises me and searches for a name.

“Martin?”

“No, I was in you tutor group at UCL about 400 years ago.”

“Alan, how are you?”

He shakes my hand effusively and greets me warmly. I say that I am fine.

He thanks me for finding Barony Castle which they have used as a venue ever since. Just as they are renting space from the science museum now.

I move on into a library at the back. Still using the walking sticks only I am carrying one and using the other. As I walk into the library, I see LB hosting a seminar. She recognises me but does not acknowledge. I go to the back and then leave. As I am leaving, I brush past DK who does not recognise me until I am well past the now closed door.

Dream ends.