It has occurred to me that I haven't blogged in more than a month, which is woefully reminiscent of my past habits. Usually my life trundles along on an uninspiring monotone of predictability, but in actual fact a lot has happened since I last gave electronic, textual voice to my various musings. I am currently snuggled up in a delightfully comfy double-quilted bed in my auntie and uncle's Oxford home, gleefully finding any excuse to use my brand-bloody-spanking new laptop (link to photos and specs...).
That's one new development. I feel slightly guilty that my parents bought it for me, especially given its high-end price tag, but it's not as though I pleaded them sycophantically to buy it; and even if I had, I wouldn't have asked them to part with anything like as much cash. Thing is, my parents have fewer chances to mollycoddle me now I am not living with them, and dad in particular sees financial and material generosity as a decent substitute for that. No matter, what's done is done and the end result is a gorgeous piece of kit with an illuminated Acer logo on the back. Nice.
So, what else is new? Well, over the summer I'm pleased to say I've had what I term 'meaningful' employment - i.e. work that's above the minimum wage and that you feel is serving a purpose beyond slave labour for opportunistic companies. In short, I switched from student to teacher. First of all I was tasked by my Russian tutor (also the co-founder of a local language school) to assist in the teaching of English to Russian students, who were visiting Devon for a fortnight. The pay wasn't brilliant, but to experience the classroom environment when the shoe's on the other foot was valuable, and it also gave me opportunities to brush up on my Russian, which notoriously dwindles during the summer (I'm not at school, so it doesn't stay fresh).
Secondly, from Tuesday to Friday this week I taught some of my uncle's employees (he runs a security firm) basic Russian. The reason for this is that they have a Russian client, who is, let's say, quite the VIP. I would love to gossip, but I signed a confidentiality agreement, and it's all very hush-hush, which in a way is quite exciting, heh. £50 a day for that, and I may be doing some more in the coming weeks. I'm hoping the client will be at home if/when I return, just so I can shake his hand and reel off a quick conversation in Russian with him. That would suffice as a claim to fame for me. :P
What else? Family springs to mind. My dad's side in particular was rattled by the recent passing of my step-grandfather. I feel sorry for my dad and his three siblings: they had to endure the deaths of both of their biological parents at a young age, and now the closest person they had to a parent is no longer a part of their lives either. My dad and my uncle Ian (who I'm staying with at the moment) were left predominantly responsible for funeral arrangements, solicitors, the will, and the clearance and ongoing sale of the old property. This is partly because they are the two eldest of the next of kin, but also because, gently put, they're the two with the money, responsibility and worldly wisdom to organise everything. The situation was exacerbated by the suddenness of granddad's death and his lack of life insurance.
Still, everything proceeded as smoothly as can be expected. I probably only saw my step-granddad a dozen times, and of course he wasn't a blood relative, so I always had a fairly neutral feeling towards him. My cousin, Allison, however, was close to him, and it was sitting next to her at the funeral that made me tearful. I fully expected to remain dry-eyed, but I learned so much more about Brian Loughborough during the ceremony, and with that clearer perspective on his life, the finality of death dealt a firm emotional blow. I was just so upset for everyone in the family who was close to him. The world is a cruel place sometimes, a fact that was epitomised in the graveyard as I read the epitaphs of a boy aged 9... a girl aged 6... a boy aged 18 months. Tell me, how can anyone say there is a benevolent god watching over us when I can walk past something that makes my heart shrivel like those infant tombstones? Even if those poor children are in heaven, the bereaved are not and have to endure that heartbreak for as long as they live. They can't even commit suicide to be with their loved ones sooner, because suicide is a mortal sin punished by eternal damnation. If that is the moral code of a loving god, then he doesn't deserve to be worshipped.
Sorry for the maudlin nature of that last paragraph. This is a space for me to air my thoughts, and I feel better for having done so. If I have offended anyone of a religious persuasion with my comments here, then I apologise, but please at least see the logic behind what I have said. That is the only negative aspect of my life I can think of right now, so it ought to be more cheerful from here on in.
Later,
Ryan
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