The D-word

Yes, divorce. I had a life before I moved to this island. In fact, amongst the Holy Order here, I'm seen as somewhat of a contempary, being the most recent human addition to the monastery. I won't bore you too much with the divorce information other than to help you understand I made a wrong choice earlier in my life by choosing matrimony. I remember vividly that before the wedding I wanted to pull out, but I just couldn't find the words. I was weak.

There were good times prior to and during the marriage, but basic differences eroded the relationship very soon on and magnified our incompatibility. I claim an equal share of responsibility as I hardened myself and cut myself off when it became too much. We split amicably (relatively speaking) and we've headed our own ways to new lives. Two years on we are able to process the paperwork and make the separation a legal one. My life has changed a lot since then, not least with my relocation to this community. I have also found new closeness with friends and one particular individual I have to keep secret for the time being. It's no mystery, just caution - the Bishop would react quite wildly if I were to explain my situation!

And that's about it, no song and dance, just acknowledgement.

All-Bran is a fast-acting fibre. I'm touching cassock. Fare thee well.

Religious bent

At the chapel today someone said I had a "religious bent." It's a phrase I had no understanding of and I reacted quite aggressively, twatting the speaker on the nose. In my defence I thought he was calling me a gay monk, but now I understand otherwise and I will apologise when next I see the wounded gentleman.

Also I'm filing for divorce very soon. This is something from the mainland I'll tell you about later if I get the chance.

Adieu.

Soggy

Bloody bastard biscuits. All gone damp.

Vagaries

Ah, sweet mystery of life! Roald Dahl of course. But he's no longer with us and as such I doubt he can hurt me for using that phrase.

Half term has arrived and presents an opportune moment to cover some positive careers development I applied through my part-time role at the school. I am employed to advise fifth-form students on occasions but generally the sixth-form students. However, I've taken the liberty to shoehorn prospective first-form candidates into a direct development path as I see fit. For example:

Little Branwen (so the report reads) likes cartoons and dolls. Her favourite school subjects are Drama and PE. Her Mother is a Dinner-Lady at the school and her Father owns a small but productive IT company on the island. I have advised her to focus on a career that encompasses her likes as well as her family's strengths. I suggested perhaps a fitness advisor or a nutritionist, utilising her Father's penchant for computing to include professional presentations and data-logging. She already has a good base through her Mother's food experience, and with her talent and enjoyment of Drama and PE, she is seemingly strong in the necessary areas. I advised her to keep her finger on the pulse of contempary children's TV so as to appeal to a broader audience in the future. I told her to lose the dolls.

This may be seen as too soon, but my belief is that childhood dreams need to be held onto rather than discarded for cold, hard regular employment. Branwen will take a modicum of pleasure from my advice I'm sure, and any changes in outlook can be discussed at any time. This is quite covert, as the curriculum refuses such tutoring at so young an age. Please, please keep this under your collective chapeau.

Today is the day of St. Valentine. What does this mean? It's a chance to lavish our loved ones with last-minute, thoughtless tat that the conglomerates force us, through mental torture, to purchase without quite understanding why. I for one would see an end to this madness, but people fall into the same trap year after year. Remember, every day is special. Surprise your loved one when he or she least expects it. This is a true outpouring of love.

The rugby yesterday was dire. England v France, two heavyweights of the world, served up a turgid dish indeed. I am so pissed off that I wasted my time to watch such a match. Here's hoping that our new-found (or new-refound) running style will encourage the French to do play properly when we meet in Paris in a fortnight. If France lose the flair that makes them so compelling, rugby would be poorer for it. What's more, England go to Dublin to play Ireland, and unless they can dig themselves out of the hole they've dug, they could well go down quite heavily. Scotland v Italy would seem to be a much closer affair at the moment, and both teams have played some excellent stuff at times. I see the Italian pack doing a job on Scotland though and they may just sneak a win.

I leave you now to immerse myself in study. I must attend several seminars on very holy matters. I will update you again at the soonest convenience.

Vaguely dirty

I have a headache this afternoon, implemented by Reverend James.

http://www.sabrain.com/beer.asp?section=cask+ales&beerid=24

He was with us throughout the excitable perusal of two rugby matches yesterday, foremost of those being our victory over the ever-improving Italians.

I shat through the eye of a needle today as a result of the Reverend's handiwork.