Goodbyeing Groovy Spirits

So it's been more than a week since the sad occasion of saying one's goodbyes to Groovy Spirits.

She of the spirits had shown great spirit in her year long fight and it is a bit of a shock to hear that she - who was so full of life and energy at one's combination farewell and Library Xmas party - had not prevailed.

One made the trip south with Hulk for emotional support to partake in the farewell along with her family and other friends/workmates. Upon arrival we joined those numbering beyond the 20 officially allowed inside during these times of plague, and lurked at the outskirts of the foyer. Luckily there was an external speaker system so we were able to hear both the eulogy and the poignant speech made by Big J - both of which touched on the fun and foibles of life and friendship with Groovy Spirits.

Afterwards - well, after some hours worth of Hulk-led traipsing through the grounds - there was attendance at a further gathering at the library to commemorate further. A sadness-tinged catch up with old workmates occurred before we were homeward bound again.

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Oh Spirits, the distance of first your long leave and then one's disenfranchisement of employment had lead to a distance and lack of news making it easy to assume everything was going okay.

I was already missing our work hours spent talking footy, and our work hours spent talking books, and our work ours spent talking shows - and we never did get to compare opinions on the ending to Game of Thrones - and now I just have the memory of those many, many, many hours.
(Poor Roysgirl had to bear the full load of One's biological need to talk footy for the last season, and has suffered greatly for it as I'm sure you'd understand.)

For those snippets of work we'd fit in between the talking, I missed having your apostrophe hunting skills available for One's project documentation, and I shall kind-of miss those times when we butted heads about things, but most missed will be the exuberant energy that filled the workroom when you were there.

I'm sure I'll slip up and text you during an exciting part of a footy game in the coming years and then wait in vain for one of your "sorry I was too drunk to watch the last quarter" replies.

Vale Ursula.

Far too soon does not describe things nearly well enough.
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Every Boy's Dream

During One's recent-ish ceremonial undertaking, one had the opportunity to live out the dream every boy has cherished since time immemorial.

One lived it out thusly...

It also included a mini-me by Hulk

In the process of living the dream one discovered that the world is composed of two types of people. Those who call one attired in such a display of costumery Napoleon; and those who are now dead to me forever - sea captain indeed!

Winning at this part of the proceedings was Illuminated G, when he proclaimed that the only reason to gather so many people together was to have enough people to perform a re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo. Oh the sadness that evoked as it made one aware of lost opportunities ... oh wait, perhaps Illuminated G was only winning at tormenting me?

In any case, One is now satisfied to have lived every boy's dream.
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The Curse

So, One had a ceremony of significant numbers a few months back.

One's head is only now finally clearing - after having had to sample all the fine liquids one was gifted - and regular posting to The Tales shall recommence forthwith.


It seems that One's ceremony celebrating all things Phill has inadvertently enacted a cursing of the land to come into fruition and that curse is stopping all those very same things:

• performing music for a crowd - stopped
• playing board games - stopped (although it does feel a little like one has hallucinated one's way into one's boardgame Pandemic)
• face to face catch-ups and chatting - stopped
• sharing food and drink with friends - stopped
• One's intentions to catch up with those that couldn't make it to the ceremony - stopped
• supporting One's sportsball team - stopped
• reading comics and books - oh wait that one survived, phew

The tragedy of it all is that One has no idea how to unwind this curse - perhaps it will just fade away on it's own in an "I got better" kind of way. Fingers crossed.

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In any case the celebration day itself was grand and One once again magnanimously thanks everyone who came and for those that didn't make it One completely understands that life happens - and you are now in no way responsible for cursing the land.

A big thank you to the band for the time they put in to help make the performance happen and happen awesomely. We even have recordings so the oft requested album may come out some day.

One had a magnificent time even though I didn't manage to spend the allocated 5 minutes with each attendee.


Many future catch ups will have to happen once the curse is lifted.
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Woa-oh! Half way there!

So the other day one passed the semi-centenarian mark.

Not much felt different -  there were no sudden aches and pains joining the existing ones, there were no sudden urge to tell those damn kids to get off my lawn, and there was no sudden memory loss that I can recall.

So overall I remain a twenty-something year old trapped in a 5-decade body and wondering when it all happened.

So thanks for all the hatching day wishes and all the impacts, big and small, you've had on my half century of life.

I'm looking forward to the big party this weekend and then to the many days of afternoon naps One is entitled to as One cruises gently into retirement.
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