by After I heard what had happened to my friend in Auckland, I wanted to find out more. He was bipolar and had a horrific time with that before I met him, though he seemed to have it under control. Sometimes during our Skype chats he’d come out with “I don’t know if I can be bothered with life”, but in a surprisingly upbeat way; I didn’t for one minute think he’d actually do it. I emailed the author of that blog, and he quickly got back to me. This guy mentioned my friend’s obsession with the two Malaysian incidents, and his delusions about the book he was writing on the subject. This book, jam-packed with conspiracy theories, was going to be a bombshell to rock the world of civil aviation. He said he had video conferences around the world and around the clock with the real movers and shakers. The reality was that only a handful of other conspiracists might have wanted anything to do with his book which he’d spent years on, and maybe the realisation of that sent him over the edge.
Without a doubt, my friend had a high IQ. He was eloquent, both in speech and in writing. He was also generous, often offering to pick me up or drop me off somewhere or other in his latest big swanky car. (His expensive cars riled the facilitator of the men’s mental health group. No job. Disability benefit. You’re gaming the system, mate.) The no-job thing was a biggie, as it is so often. Even a crappy job forces you to interact with people, it keeps you grounded, it keeps you in touch with the real world to some extent. I suggested that given his interest in aviation he should look for a job at the airport, but he never did. My aunt – Dad’s sister – married young and could afford not to have a real job, so she’s never had one. In fact she often childishly mocked people who had real jobs – “he does data, how boooring” – much to my annoyance. I’m sure her joblessness has come at a huge cost to her wellbeing. Anyway, I sometimes visited his house in a modern estate on the North Shore – not somewhere I’d like to live. His place was well looked after, but he’d put up weird signage everywhere, and he had about eight landline phones. In later years he bought a scooter, and I found a 2017 article about him patrolling the streets on his new vehicle. He was a nosy bugger, that’s for sure. He would come along to the mental health group tuned to police radio.
The author of that blog is a full-time conspiracist too – his posts are chock-full of anti-vax diatribes and lies about the 2020 US election being stolen – so I’ll give his little slice of the web a pass. Still, I appreciated him getting back to me so quickly.
I’d planned to visit the UK in July for my nephew’s christening, but the trip is becoming less doable by the day. I can’t find a flight back to Timișoara for much under £200. Before then I’ll have to get down south, somehow, probably taking a ludicrously expensive train. I’ll have to stay at least one night near the airport in Luton because the plane gets in so late. Then I wanted to get across to Birmingham and back to St Ives … it’s all just too bloody hard. I feel bad because I’d basically promised my sister-in-law that I’d be there, but what can I do? My best bet now is to stay two or three nights in Budapest when I come back from New Zealand in September, then go to the UK for my nephew’s first birthday.
On Wednesday I had my medical check-up for my driving licence. This included standing on one leg with my eyes closed and repeating whispered Romanian numbers with my hand over one ear. In all I had to visit six specialists in clinics on two floors. The whole process took 90 minutes including a fair bit of hanging around in a waiting room. I got the green light, so my next step is to go to Iulius Mall for the conversion. When I eventually get my hands on a Romanian licence I’ll buy a car, and that won’t be an easy task either. Registering a car is such a bureaucratic process, even for Romanians, that there are middlemen all over the city who you pay to do it for you.
The coronation is tomorrow. I’m not a monarchist, I’m not a republican, I have no strong feelings on the matter. For me, the royal family have always just been there. Still, I’m a little disappointed that I have to work and won’t be able to watch all the proceedings. From a pure visual perspective, it would have been great. I’d have enjoyed the talk of ampullas and sceptres and cherubs and tritons. Oh well. I’ll watch the highlights, or just wait until the next one.
The snooker. Yippee, it’s over! That was my first thought; it was enthralling, but such a time sink for me. What a final, though. Luca Brecel thoroughly deserved his victory, which almost nobody was expecting. Before arriving at the Crucible this year, he’d never won a single match in five attempts. Then he cleared up. A crucial moment of the final came in the last frame of Monday afternoon’s session. With the balls in extremely awkward spots, Brecel compiled one of the best breaks I’ve ever seen, and that put him 15-10 up going into the evening session. At that score, an awful lot needed to go right for Mark Selby and it nearly did. He won a tense scrappy frame to close to 16-12, then when he cracked open the reds in the following frame it was clear he meant business. Brecel hardly had a look in until the 32nd frame when Selby missed a black and then a brown, but finally the Belgian player was able to close out the match. I hope his win will help grow the game in continental Europe.
Letters of the alphabet sometimes rise to prominence in my lessons, Sesame Street style. Yesterday was brought to me by F and W. I’d like to do a series of posts on the alphabet because, unlike most normal people for which it’s incidental, letters and words have always been very meaningful to me.
Yesterday the mother of one of my students gave me ten eggs from the countryside, including a duck egg. In return I gave her two slices of pizza that I’d made. When I make pizza I follow Mum’s recipe – she’s always had a knack for making very tasty pizzas. I make the dough rather than buying the base – there’s something therapeutic about kneading it.
After two overcast days, it’s a beautiful day today.
