At some point in Ghost in the Shell: Stand-Alone Complex the Major talks about why she has a watch on her wrist, an analogue one at that. I have all sorts of things in this house that help me to remember, things that wrap me up in the people and experiences that I have had. In this instance I am not musing on my romantic or platonic past but I’m thinking about my professional one. In the way that there’s any real distinction between these sections of my life.
I’m packing using one of the Old Guy’s suitcases. I haven’t had a proper suitcase since the pink one with light up wheels that I bought in Chicago broke. This one is realistically too big, or at any rate bigger than I like but I am finding that in packing it (not, this time full of all the beer he left) I am thinking about conversations that he and I had. I need to read Lucky Jim and I am due rereading Chesterton. I miss having the intelligent conversations that he and I used to have when he was still compos mentis at the beginning of my employ. My Boss and I recently had a meet up to I dunno, memorialise, do something, at his local pub. Every so often I buy an indian and have a pale ale and think of him.
I miss him and I miss my Dad, by the end I’m pretty sure he thought I was his daughter which always made things a little difficult but he did have a good line in knowing about poetry and I like that in people. I can thank Great Uncle Arthur via Dad for that. I now know more about beer than I ever expected to, I will probably end up drinking in a bar with people this week which feels very strange indeed. I don’t think I’ve done that in a long while, I’m not completely convinced I remember how.
