For 20 years this poor woman has had to endure me.


It’s hard to define love, isn’t it.

When you live with someone and sleep with them in the same bed for twenty years you get to know the down side of someone.

God knows you could write a blog about my downside (you already have.  Ed.)

Love isn’t about flowers and champagne.  It’s not about sex.  It’s not trivial.  And actually, if the truth be told, I don’t know what it is.

It just is.

I’ve loved my wife for a little over 20 years.  Tomorrow marks the occasion that we have been man and wife for richer and poorer, for better and for worse for a decent amount of time.

I’ve been lucky.

I do believe that we are blessed by our children.  Three teenagers that I actually like (but don’t tell them that or it’ll all go horribly wrong.)  I think I like them because Jeana has enabled that.  Because she has been at home for them for their whole lives in a time when that’s a hard thing to achieve.  Sure I’ve done well in business; but I’ve never been wealthy.  But wealthy enough to protect that most pure and fortunate of instincts, to allow us to create a supportive home for our kids.

I saw a play at the Lyceum recently – ‘The man who had all the luck.” and I thought it reflected my life.  Again, I’ve been lucky.

But that would be to dismiss a lot of things.  Most of all Jeana, who has been a priceless grounding in my life.

She can tell me straight to my face when I’m being a twat.  (Actually that is not an uncommon occurance.  And on fewer occassions I can reciprocate.)

She can say, “OK” when I come home and tell her I’ve resigned from the business I owned.

In fact she can say “OK” when I set it up in the first place, 3 months pregnant with twins and a two year old, and planning a 30% wage cut.

Most of all she just ‘gets’ me.  And I think that might be a bit of what love is about.  Being inside someone’s character (soul?) so much that they know what you are about and accommodate it.

I’ve been nasty many times in our relationship, but never willfully.  And I’ve got shit for it  – like the day she poured a bottle of my favourite aftershave down the sink.  But it’s never been such a big deal really.

An hour from now the clock will chime on our 20th anniversary.  I will have been ill-prepared and ungenerous.  (I made a card though.)  I will certainly be far less eloquent than I have been in the last hour (if this is eloquent.)

But she’ll know.

She’ll know how important she is to me.  And us.

And how much I/we love her.

Because she’s Jeana.

And if you knew Jeana like I know Jeana…

Cheers matey.  Thanks for the last 20.

and you thought you had it hard…


This guy was lonely and so he decided life would be more fun
if he had a pet. So he goes to a pet shop and told the owner that he wanted to
buy an unusual pet. After some discussion he finally bought a
centipede), which came in a little white box to use
for his house.

He took the box home, found a good location for it, and
decided he would start off by taking his new pet to the bar for
a drink. So he asked the centipede in the box, ‘Would you like to go
to Frank’s place with me and have a beer?’

Silence; there was no answer from his new pet. This
bothered him a bit. He waited a few minutes and then asked him again,
‘How about going to the bar and having a beer with me?’
Again there was no answer, nothing but silence came from
his new friend. So he waited a few minutes more,
thinking about the situation. He decided to ask him one
more time.

This time putting his face up against the centipede’s house
and shouting,

‘Hey, in there! Would you like to go to Frank’s
place and have a beer with me?

A little voice came out of the box:  ‘I heard you the first time!
I’m putting my fucking shoes on!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

We went to see the RSA’s annual best of the art colleges event yesterday.  Not just because it’s a really interesting snapshot of what the art colleges are putting out there, but because Amy’s in the process of applying to Duncan of Jordanstone and, not only that, she had won a merit in the Schools competition and was an exhibitor herself.

She looked delighted by the whole experience.

Partly because the RSA spelled her name wrong.

I mean Amy Gorman isn’t that hard to spell,  so how come it turned out as Ravy Hormone?


Well, I was delighted. (At her work of course, not the spelling car crash and the emotional carnage that resulted.  Slowly.)

And so was Jeana. (At her work of course, not the spelling car crash and the emotional carnage that resulted.  Slowly.)

Even Tom looked like it wasn’t actually the worst day of his life. (Although he enjoys a bit of emotional Shadenfreude.)

Needless to say Ria was happy to go with the flow; and pleased for Amy – in fact more pleased for Amy than Amy was. (At her work of course, not the spelling car crash and the emotional carnage that resulted.  Slowly.)

Amy’s pal Alison had a self portrait accepted too.


As for the student show itself.

Well, I loved it and can totally recommend it.  Amy was considerably less enamored and I think that may be because there was a lot of sculpture, video and  installation art.  It made her wonder what the purpose of art college is and that’s a good point.

For me, I thought the show was way better than previous years but this too is controversial because the RSA has adopted a more selective regime.

Fine by me.  There was a lot of shite in it before.

For the record, we were unanimous in our love of Ross Brown’s work.


See more of his excellent work here.

This month’s word

Sorry seems to be the hardest word to say just now, unless you’re a banker whereby a glib apology seems, to them, to be the antidote to their callous disregard to the world at large.

So when I listened to this song on my ipod this morning I was touched by its relevance.

It’s actually a love lament but it could easily have been written for Fred the Shred and co.

It also just happens to be one of my songs of 2008.