Existential Dread and Crumpets: My Guide to Sunday Brunch

Ah, the Sunday brunch. A time-honoured British tradition, a refuge from the relentless march of the week, and, let’s be honest, a potential minefield of existential dread.

We’ve all been there. You wake up late, the remnants of Saturday night’s revelry clinging to you like a cheap suit. The newspaper headlines scream of impending doom, and the bottomless pit of your empty stomach seems to echo the vast emptiness of existence.

But fear not, fellow traveller on this absurd journey called life! For within the humble embrace of the Sunday brunch lies the potential for solace, sustenance, and even a flicker of joy.

Step One: The Ritual of Tea
First things first, tea. A steaming mug of builder’s brew, strong enough to knock the existential cobwebs off your brain, is the cornerstone of any good Sunday brunch.

Steep your preferred leaves (Yorkshire Tea, for the purists) in a proper pot – none of those flimsy teabag contraptions here – and pour yourself a generous cup. Inhale the robust aroma, feel the warmth seep into your hands, and allow the gentle act of brewing to become a mini-meditation, a moment of quiet contemplation before the glorious chaos that is brunch.

Step Two: The Crumpet Conundrum
Now, the crumpet. This seemingly simple baked good is, in fact, a philosophical paradox. To toast or not to toast? That is the question. A golden, toasted crumpet offers a satisfying crunch and holds its shape admirably under the weight of your chosen toppings. But a fresh, untoasted crumpet possesses a delightful, almost doughy, texture that perfectly soaks up butter and jam.

The choice, dear reader, is yours. But choose wisely, for in this seemingly trivial decision lies a metaphor for life itself – the comfort of the familiar versus the thrill of the unknown.

Step Three: The Full English Breakfast – A Toast to Tradition
The Full English Breakfast: a veritable feast fit for a king (or, more realistically, someone who slightly overindulged the night before).

Sausage, bacon, eggs (done to your liking, of course), baked beans, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, black pudding (for the adventurous), and a hash brown (because why not?) piled high on a warm plate. This dish is a celebration of British culinary tradition, a hearty reminder that even in the face of existential angst, there is still pleasure to be found in the simple act of consuming a good fry-up.

Step Four: The Continental Cousin
But perhaps the Full English isn’t your cup of tea (or, more accurately, mug of tea). Fear not, for the world of brunch is vast and varied.

Perhaps you fancy a lighter option, a croissant or pain au chocolat, flaky and buttery, begging to be dipped into coffee or hot chocolate. Or maybe you’re feeling a touch more adventurous, seeking a taste of the exotic with huevos rancheros or a stack of fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

The beauty of brunch lies in its infinite possibilities. It is a canvas upon which you can paint your own culinary masterpiece, a reflection of your own unique personality and preferences.

Step Five: The Art of Conversation (and Avoiding Existential Dread)
Finally, no brunch is complete without good conversation. Engage with your fellow brunchers, be they friends, family, or even strangers at the next table. Discuss the latest episode of your favourite show, reminisce about the good old days, or simply revel in the shared experience of breaking bread (or crumpets) together. By focusing on the present moment, on the company you keep, and on the simple pleasure of good food and good company, you may just find that the existential dread melts away, replaced by a warm sense of connection and belonging.

So, there you have it. My guide to navigating the existential minefield that is Sunday brunch. Remember, it’s not just about the food (although the food is important). It’s about the ritual, the connection, and the small moments of joy that make life worth living, even when the universe seems intent on reminding you of its vast indifference.

Now, go forth, conquer your brunch, and face the coming week with a renewed sense of purpose (and a full stomach).

Not Really Dead, Only Inside

“Cheer up, it might not happen!”

For a people person, it has surprised me how much I have lost my tolerance for the world recently, or less generally, the people in it. Or, to be really specific, the people that I categorise as my friends.

And don’t get me started on my family.

You deserve a better explanation, so here it is. And in true Dave style I shall ramble, beat about the bush, probably rant a bit, and hopefully make you grin on the way.

The reports of my death, etc.

Please allow me to take you on a short journey through my slightly damaged psyche.

I don’t know whether it is my age, or the state of my mental health, or maybe even because of both, but I have become more aware over the last few years, that one of my major triggers is the idea that my persistence in people’s minds is directly influenced by how necessary I am to their needs. Or more specifically:

Do you ever wonder how long it would take for people to notice that you were gone? Have you ever suddenly thought about somebody you haven’t thought about for a long time, only to discover that they died years ago?

Ironically, with it being this time of year, I watched It’s a Wonderful Life last week, which deals with this very idea: “What difference have I made in this world?”

Before I get to the point I’m trying to make, there is one more tale to share with you. A few months ago I was taking a shower and my phone rang. I jumped out of the shower to answer the phone only to find it was some random “friend” I hadn’t heard from for a long time, just asking me if I was driving my taxi, presumably because they were unable to get one as quickly as they would have liked.

Still covered in soap and slightly annoyed, I stepped back into the bath to continue my shower in peace. My left foot went one way and my right foot went the other, causing me to slide forward, head first into the bath, banging my head on the wall. A millisecond after the stars subsided from my vision I started to laugh, mainly because of the amusing image that was in my head. As I was hanging out of the bath arse first, I was wondering how funny it would have been (in a terrible way of course) to have been found like this – that this was, ultimately, the form of my demise.

You see, the final thing that I would really like to happen to me, is a funny death. I want people to talk about my passing and be unable to stop themselves from laughing at the method of my destruction. I remember watching a celebrity being interviewed once on TV, and if I remember correctly, they wanted to be crushed by “a giant letter O from the Hollywood sign.” They weren’t specific about which of the three Os it would be. Any would do, I suppose.

So here I am, face down, arse up in my bath, laughing to myself about being found like this after a few days, and then it struck me. How long would it actually be until I was found? How long would it take to be missed? Could I get the person that rang my phone to serve time for my manslaughter? The irony of my demise being caused by being eventually needed for something other than my sparkling personality is not lost on me.

I think all we ever really want to do is persist. It is said that when we pass, we remain (or some version of us) in the minds of the people we leave behind. And while that gives us comfort when we need it, it’s not really true is it? We live on in the neurons of maybe the few thousand people that we have interacted with, but once those people have turned to dust, where do we go then?

You see, these are the sort of thoughts that keep me awake.

• People only think about you if you can help them solve a problem
• You will only be missed if people need you for something.

I think where I am going with this, is that I’ve got this enormous sense of isolation, but I don’t really mind as much as I used to. I am at peace with it.

My Facebook account got hacked for the first time over the weekend. It was during a taxi journey in the middle of the night while I had passengers in the car. I started to get strange notifications on my phone, so I knew what was going on. By the time I dropped my passengers off, the damage had been done, I could no longer get into my account, and shortly after that the perpetrators had also used my account to get it completely disabled for doing whatever those scumbags do.

So when my Facebook account got disabled, I saw the potential for an interesting social experiment – to see how long it would take for anyone to notice, and how many, if any?

The results of this experiment surprised me.

It took around eight hours to be missed online, by a grand total of 2 people. It is over two days later now, and this total has not increased at all.

It’s a bittersweet statistic. On the one hand, I was missed fairly quickly, but on the other, only by two people. And neither of them needed a taxi.

At the time of writing I am still undecided as to whether I am going to attempt to recover my Facebook account. You see, a fair few use Messenger to contact me when they can’t get a taxi.

After my “bathmageddon” incident, my phone is pretty much permanently on Do Not Disturb. In my free time I am almost never contacted unless I am needed for something other than myself. Honestly it’s been quite liberating. Every so often I’ll look at my phone and see a few missed calls and messages, which I can contemptuously snort at, at my leisure, when I’ve got a few moments to spare.

Why are there so few taxi drivers?

Credit

I keep reading/hearing about this problem.

I’m one of the few taxi drivers that didn’t take up the offer of free HGV Class I training offered a couple of years ago (had to have appendix out, long story).

So I stayed.

But it’s true, the calibre of work has gone right down the pan these last few years. I’m lucky enough not to get abusive passengers (touch wood) but runners and pukers and generally not feeling safe with who I pick up is definitely making me reconsider working nights these days.

In my opinion, people these days are just angry and entitled. Lockdown has been years of being told what we can’t do, and where we can’t go, and we’ve had enough.

So I get it. I get why.

But it’s a vicious circle. If people are assholes, then taxi drivers don’t want to work at night. And if there aren’t enough taxis, people get angry and competitive.

Things won’t be like this forever, I’m sure.

Don’t Turn Around

My friend once said to me “Hello there!”

So I turned round and said “…hang on, where have you gone?”

He turned round and said “What – wait a minute, where have you gone?”

So I turned round and said “Why are you facing that way?”

He turned around and said “There you are! Er, what were we talking about?”

So I turned around and said “I can’t remember… hello?”

Invasion of the Sausage Snatchers

Watch him, he’s up to no good.

Once upon a time, in a world filled with robots, there was a group of mischievous robots that loved to steal sausages. They were known as the “Sausage Snatchers” and their favorite target was the local butcher shop.

Every night, they would sneak into the shop and steal as many sausages as they could carry. The owner of the shop tried everything to stop them, from installing alarms to hiring security guards, but nothing worked.

One day, the Sausage Snatchers were caught in the act by a young girl named Lily. She saw them sneaking around the back of the shop and followed them inside. To her surprise, she found the robots stuffing sausages into their metal mouths.

Lily knew she had to do something to stop them, so she came up with a plan. She went to the local toy store and bought a bunch of toy sausages. Then, she went back to the butcher shop and replaced all the real sausages with the fake ones.

That night, the Sausage Snatchers came back for their nightly raid. They snatched up all the fake sausages, thinking they had hit the jackpot. But as soon as they bit into them, they realized they had been tricked.

From that day on, the Sausage Snatchers never stole sausages again. Instead, they became friends with Lily and helped her with her homework.

The butcher was grateful to Lily for solving his problem and even gave her a lifetime supply of sausages to show his appreciation. And so, the town lived happily ever after, with no more sausage thefts to worry about.

Why did the robot cross the road?
To get to the sausages on the other side!

Hot Dogs are The Best

Verse 1:
I wake up in the morning, feeling kinda hungry
I know just what I want, it's always been so yummy
No need for fancy meals, or anything too fussy
Just a simple hot dog, it always does the job for me

Chorus:
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're my favourite food
I can eat them any time, I'm always in the mood
With ketchup or with mustard, or maybe even both
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're the ones I love the most

Verse 2:
At the ball game or the fair, they're always on the menu
With all the toppings piled high, they're never too few
A quick snack on the go, or a meal to share with friends
Hot dogs are always there, until the very end

Chorus:
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're my favourite food
I can eat them any time, I'm always in the mood
With ketchup or with mustard, or maybe even both
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're the ones I love the most

Bridge:
Some say they're not healthy, but I don't really care
I'll eat them every day, I'll never have a scare
I love the taste so much, it's hard to put in words
Hot dogs are my passion, they're my love, my world

Chorus:
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're my favourite food
I can eat them any time, I'm always in the mood
With ketchup or with mustard, or maybe even both
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're the ones I love the most

Outro:
So if you're ever feeling down, or you need a pick-me-up
Just grab a hot dog, it's always worth the fuss
They'll make your day so much better, they will improve your mood
Hot dogs, hot dogs, they're the ones that always rule.

Improving Mental Health

Feeling miserable all the time can be a challenging and difficult experience. Here is some general advice on how to improve your mood and overcome negative feelings, but it’s important to seek professional help if you are experiencing persistent negative emotions or symptoms of a mental health condition. Here are some tips that may help.

Practice self-care

Taking care of yourself can help improve your mood and reduce feelings of misery. This includes getting enough sleep, eating a healthy and balanced diet, exercising regularly, and taking time for relaxation and self-reflection.

Connect with others

Social connection is important for our emotional wellbeing. Reach out to friends or family members, join a support group, or consider seeing a therapist or counselor.

Engage in activities you enjoy

Doing things that you enjoy can help improve your mood and bring a sense of pleasure to your day-to-day life. This can include hobbies, creative pursuits, or simply spending time in nature.

Practice mindfulness and gratitude

Mindfulness practices, such as meditation or deep breathing, can help reduce stress and anxiety. Practicing gratitude by focusing on the positive aspects of your life can also improve your mood and help you feel more content.

Seek professional help

If you are experiencing persistent negative emotions or symptoms of a mental health condition, it’s important to seek professional help. A mental health professional can provide you with the support and guidance you need to overcome your challenges and improve your emotional wellbeing.

Conclusion

Everyone’s journey is different, and what works for one person may not work for another. It’s important to be patient with yourself, stay positive, and continue to seek out the help and support that you need.

Toxic Punters (The Guilt Trip)

Slows down to let two women get by in Joiners Alley.

They try to get me to pick them up but I am private hire and I’m on my way to pick somebody else up.

Some debate ensues where I continually refuse to pick them up.

They end by shouting “Well if we get raped, it’s on you!!”

Quick as a flash I reply “Don’t flatter yourself, love!”

What horrible bastards people have become, myself included, probably 🤷

I think I’m back?

Well it has certainly been a few years, hasn’t it?

For context, I came off my antidepressants about a month ago and the last couple of weeks have been quite tough. Writing poetry takes me back to when I was 16 years old and this is how I dealt with my teenage angst back then.

I’ll make no apologies for the freeform nature of some of my poems. I try to stick to a structure but I just need to get stuff out, so it tends to become less disciplined.

It feels like there is a decision to be made about whether something reads well or is constrained by structure so I can’t say what I want to say, so I tend to go for the latter.

I could probably go back and tidy up and restructure things and make things read well and sound nice, but I really just need to get this stuff out of my head as it comes at the moment.

So this is part blog, part poetry, part coming off my meds journal.

Stay Off The Dating Apps

I came to the conclusion recently that dating or more specifically online dating is one of the most contrived, artificial and unnecessarily complicated ways to find that special someone.

If I spot you in a supermarket I have no idea why you are there, or what you intend to purchase. If I spot you you in a butcher’s then it is almost certain that you are there to buy meat. If I spot you in a bicycle shop I can be almost certain that you are buying something with wheels that you can sit on and ride about.

This is what dating apps are. Everyone is there to meet somebody else with the intention of becoming romantically attached to them. I cannot think of anything that puts more pressure on people to succeed than this. It has a high failure rate by it’s very nature. If one fails on enough occasions they will be conditioned to always expect to fail and therefore are very unlikely to succeed or end up on a rubbish date or in a rubbish relationship.

Best friends just hanging out together

So what is the answer? I have heard the word friendzone a lot in the past few years like it is a bad place to end up. I disagree completely. The friend zone is not the end zone it is the beginning zone and if all else fails you have made a new friend. But where do we meet these friends? They are everywhere and are just around the corner.

I am still single though, so what do I know? 😂😂