Usually when I start writing on this blog, I have some idea of what I wish to write. Some comment I wish to make, something interesting or important I want to share,or some activity that interested or excited me. Quite often I start out with that in mind but find myself pursuing paths I had not planned. A bit like surfing the net, but in my head. Thus a piece on Maillard reactions, for example. Quite pleased with that. All still in my head from my food days, with just a little Googling to check a couple of facts. Sometimes though, I just set out to exercise my brain, and at the start I have no idea what I shall write where I will wander. Today is such a day. I felt a need to share my thoughts, but examining them made me wonder if I really did want to wave them around in public. What to write? How much to write? In the circumstances in which I find myself at present, it is hard to be objective, and harder not to sound like a whining loser. Or worse, a self serving prick. I certainly don’t want to play any he said she said blame games. The fact is that I really don’t know, or understand what the fuck is going on, but I know it is not going well. Coming to Fiji was a big mistake, and it is time I publicly admitted that. It is neither the first or last, worst or least of the many life choice mistakes I have made or that am likely to continue to make. But it is one I have to deal with at the moment, and that is only the start. The job is not going all that well, so there is little comfort to be had from a job well done. My personal life is in worse condition. Being here may be a major factor in that, and being unable to sort it out does not help. What use is a phone or Skype if there is no one listening at the other end? What point rushing home?
I am 58 years old, stable and sensible, adaptable and capable, and certainly able to manage being alone for a spell. I had no problem being temporarily away from my family and the comforts and pleasures of marriage. I have certainly not felt any urge to seek such comfort elsewhere. I am stating this for the record. There is, I believe, a rumour to the contrary. To what extent that rumour has contributed to my present circumstances, or arisen from them, I cannot in honesty judge, but since I have never in 25 years done anything to suggest I may be the sort of man who might be, shall we say… free with his affections, I can only say that such stories are not only unfounded, but particularly unkind. I will also state for the record that in my experience, Melanesian women are among the worst, most vicious and unkind gossips I have ever encountered. And women as a generalisation can be that way anyway. So can men. So now that I am being reasonable, what am I saying? Let’s substitute the word "people". Anyway, I have remonstrated before with my own good lady on that very subject. Ah well… I know that any such stupid speculation will be picked up, embellished and honed to razor sweetness as it it passed along. But I digress once more. The point is that right now, I find that I am in a quandary. Though I could live here quite contently far away from the comforts of home, and was doing OK until a while ago, I now find the possibilities ahead to be completely depressing. Before, I was alone but not lonely.
And having got my zip open, so to speak, I find that is all I have to say about that right now.