Tag: nostalgia

When Will Saturday Come

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

It’s Saturday. Thought I would stumble out of bed a little hung over, not too much, just a enough to create edge. Have my breakfast which is more relaxed than the mid week one but fundamentally the same, I leave the dirty sexy breakfast for a Sunday. While eating plan all the semi-productive things I would like to accomplish for the day before leaving for the supermarket, ticking that off the list but being exhausted enough upon return that the list get scrumpled up and thrown in the fire which I made to sit in front of feeling like a wild man as the football results come in. Secretly I’ve quite enjoyed this lockdown, mainly because I’ve not really been locked down I imagine, but there are certain old habits and routines I miss. I enjoyed those semi-busy Saturdays. I long for the return of the football. And I’m currently not in the same house as the fireplace unfortunately. If that all sounds hard then don’t even get me started on the pleasures of a Sunday morning drinking coffee and reading the newspapers as my dog sits beside me and I’m surrounded by countryside. It’s pointless longing for things we cannot have but it’s good to be able to see the things we really value when they’re not there. I quite fancy a pint as well. Don’t give a shit about much us though. Although a holiday would be nice.

I miss my dog. She lives with may parents these days which is good for her because they live in the countryside and it forces them to go on walks everyday. People don’t appreciate the value of pets I don’t think. I can’t see her at the moment though because while I deliver food to my parents, I don’t let her see me because I won’t be staying and she won’t understand why I’m leaving so quickly after coming back. Poor girl. Poor me too. There are going to be some parties when this is all done. It’ll be a while until the pubs are open I reckon and people will be warned off getting together too much too soon but lets be honest, folk are going to go wild. We’re like school children at the best of times let alone when we’ve been stuck inside, away from everyone, sober and being healthy for what must feel like an eternity. I can’t wait for the outcry from the media, front pages of people having fun. Probably the same papers which will be a week earlier pushing for the end of restrictions. Theres nothing like a short memory.

I’m tired today. I was woken up early and now I need to go to work. I’m attempting to write this early now instead of tonight when I get in. It’s strange, sometimes late at night I get my best ideas. Maybe I should give up on being a morning person and accept life as a night owl. They usually seem happy. A little white and sickly maybe, but happy enough. But not tonight, this is certainly not going to be an old Saturday night. When I’m tucked up in my bed before midnight I guarantee there’ll be no nostalgia from me. I love you all. I’ll see you tomorrow. Fresh, awake, invigorated, just like an awful morning person should be.

A Delivery Of Bread, Harmony and Brexit

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

Today began with an interesting morning of delivering bread. I went along this morning with one of the delivery drivers so I could learn his route in case he ever needs some one to cover him. This driver is an interesting man. Certainly at three o’clock in the morning he was far more chatty than I expected but after I while I managed to warm up and discover the ability to hold conversation. We chatted about a few things but at one point after I told him I had lived in Greece for a few years he asked me what the situation with the immigrants is. Now this kind of question can go one of two ways and it comes from a basis usually of “poor refugees” or “economic migrants we may have to be wary of”. I have found myself in this situation enough times to recognise this and give a general answer about how conditions are terrible there and now I can warn of the dangers of this virus in the camps. If he is inclined to be on the economic migrant side of the debate he doesn’t really get a window into the conversation from that angle and I’m careful not to go full refugee’s need rescuing and help coming to Britain because it opens up the possibilities of pointless arguments I cannot be bothered with.

Inevitably the conversation one way or another led onto politics and down the rabbit hole of nostalgia that Brexit has become. He was confident enough of his beliefs to admit to disliking faceless bureaucrats and being pro-Brexit. I suggested it wasn’t as straightforward as that because unfortunately we have plenty of faceless bureaucrats in the UK, we will soon be the United States’ little bitch and I enjoy living and working in foreign countries. The conversation very quickly got to the point we’ve all recognised before where the next step is basically you saying “No you’re wrong” and him saying “No actually you’re wrong”. For anyone who had one, a Brexit discussion reaches a very quick climax of that exact sort without fail. And you know what, there was something about that moment which I realised I missed.

The chap I was having this debate with was the archetypal northern mid-50s working man, he was even called Dave. That is no word of a lie. I like him he’s a good man and I really enjoyed this conversation about a topic which we’ve all forgotten took over our lives six months ago before we moved onto the killer virus. It was painfully evident that despite society having an enormous hug we’ve still got a long way to go to build bridges and men like Dave are still as determined about their understanding of societies ills as snowflake millennials like me of their opposite.

I still can’t get over how much of the perfect box he fit in and genuinely I’m not saying that as a criticism. I think we all forget in our determination to be right and force our version of right on others that we may just be wrong. It is only in understanding that and that men like Dave are not the enemy but very much on the same team as us that we may actually remove those who have pillaged and offered such little genuine hope to people. Dave hasn’t created this shit show, neither have I although we both continue to allow it’s existence as we wag fingers at each other while having our pockets picked. We talk of this virus bringing us together as a society but if we don’t get over any of the other bullshit we’ll just as quickly become divided down old lines once more. It’ll take us all. If not the old order will have won once again.

The Times They Are A Changing, Or Not

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

I went for some afternoon pints today with my Dad. There’s something enjoyable about a few afternoon beers that has been lost on contemporary society, and me too I guess. We went to a little microbrewery pub in my local town. They have a few interesting little beers but no cider unfortunately, which is exactly what I had been after, apparently people don’t go for still cider this far north. There was one thing I noticed though and it’s something I’ve started noticing more and more often in recent times; the distinct lack of any younger generation in the pub. I am thirty-four years old now and I remember ten years ago the idea of an afternoon drinking session would be met with a solid and positive response. Even more so if you went to the pub in the evening you were guaranteed to find it beaming with youthful energy. I noticed recently when in what I could class as my local if I wanted and today the microbrewery in my local town that there are a distinct lack of people in their twenties. There was an awful lot of regulars in their forties and above but few of a younger generation. To counter that of course I was in an interesting pub in Edinburgh a couple of weekends ago and felt old whereas I never used to so perhaps it’s just the boring old man pubs and towns I’ve started to frequent.

There are many reasons why we are seeing this change though. Society has evolved enormously in the fifteen years since I started university. To begin with there is no doubt I was a student in what I can only describe as the peak binge drinking period…pound a pint nights…trebles for two pounds. I recently found out that those trebles bars I used to frequent were caught a few years ago mixing their spirits with white spirit, which both explains a lot and is slightly worrisome. A night out on tenner…two big bottles of cider before going out and then the remainder on entrance to the club. I could be nostalgic about it and say times have changed but it’s probably the same now I just don’t see it because thankfully I don’t go near that kind of world. I doubt though ten pounds would get you very far now either which is probably why people can’t drink in pubs, saying that we used to drink in the house a lot too, hence the two bottles of cider trick. I feel like I’m disproving myself as I write. Perhaps I should work these things out before I write them up, maybe the writing up is the working them out. Does this just mean I’ve got no idea what twenty year olds get up to these days? That is more likely, I also have no desire at all to know and don’t want that to change.

That is the point though, times may change but we definitely change and probably faster. The cliche may be the old man horrified by modern day society but I doubt the fundamentals are that much different. We see the society we live in, so if I am a little healthier and drink less, I see twenty year olds doing the same and imagine they’re also boring and clean these days. It’s all about perception then. Or not. It could just be that without any type of scientific data or research I can form any argument based upon the limited world I see. The narrative I don’t even know exists has already taken over before I even hit my first key. When did it stop just being a few simple afternoon pints down the pub with you Dad and your dog. Simpler times…said every old man always.