Why, for me, there are no “Yes” & “No” solutions …

Not all that I wing into this journal is shite, funny, or a copy of the latest “funny” to be forwarded on from my mum at work; some of it has relevance. To who? Who cares, this is what is on my mind at the time, and when it comes to getting one’s point across; it works becuase you get to say all you want, justification and all, before your “oponent” kicks in with their 50p’s worth.

When I consider what I have to deal with every so often, I do think I do a fantastic job of dealing. These are of course in conjunction with the same challenges that the rest of us have in running our lives; making your salary last all month, paying Council tax every month and trying to get to the gym on a regular pattern such that it will all make a differnce.

In addition to that; I have to ask myself if I am going to see my father this month, if there are going to be any of my “past” that I am going to be reminded of in the mail; who is taking me to court this year (Ok so that is a joke, not an invitation!), and am I going to have work in a month’s time. Additionally, what kind of mood is my younger brother in? Is he OK, and is he going to go to work, or not and then decide not to pay the rent?

The latter are not biggish problems, I have had to make sure I can cope with them; and I have planned to. But the former – perhaps what has sparked this article – is something that in dicsussions with others prompts a very simplisitc answer; purely of the basis of misunderstanding. I only wish the answers could be so easy.

Alas they are not. I have often worried about what happens when I get married (no laughing now!)! Is my future wife’s day going to be ruined by 2 warring factions formally married to each other? In fact; I have already taken steps to ensure that this is not going to happen… I think! But then how will the top table look with the SAS keeping my parents from taring a strip of one another? Who knows, and the answer to that is some time off. However next week I am going to be 30, and my celebrations have now included both mother and father; the risk being that they end up in the same city, the same bar, and the same 20 square feet.

A somewhat test run of any future marital partying, and one that perhaps will lead to me having to decide whom gets an invite and who doesn’t. What a position to have to ponder.

In reading this – whoever you are – may seem that there may be a simple answer – but the thought of this leaves me with a small sewage plant in my undershorts, and one where you might select the parents of one’s best pal just to make things “even”.