Funfare for the Common Man

Editor's note: this is an excerpt from the book the author is currently working on. It is not a book about war or politics or anything necessarily directly related to Ukraine, but it's impossible to ignore what's going on. Therefore, the author has added various Interludes in between chapters, and this is the fourth such Interlude. The book is tentatively titled An Accidental Career. He has decided to share this latest instalment in light of events on the morning of Monday, 10 October. Stadtpark, 14 October, 2022. Defenders Day in Ukraine Monday, 10 October : a crisp, gorgeous autumn morning, as I sat on a bench in Stadtpark, central Vienna, looking at the colourful leaves, contemplating life and what I would do in the day ahead. Rewind to the Introduction, where I found myself in virtually the same exact spot some six months ago in early spring, with the same glorious sunshine, not long after I had arrived in Vienna, wondering what lay in store in the months ahead. It was ...

Kunsthistorisches Museum, August 2022 'They were not true pub-crawlers, who are content to spend hour upon hour in slow tippling and silent reverie in a tavern. No, these two were merely visitors, who went to taverns only for the sake of daily arguments, and once there, cared not a whit about what they ate or drank, minding only what was said. They would have sat around in a tavern forever, if it were a matter of relating some heroic adventure, especially if they were able to weave themselves into the ramifications of the narrative.' Life is a Dream , Gyula Krudy Sucker for nostalgia that I am, I couldn’t help but reflect on the start of the epic adventure that started for me right around 20 years ago, September 2002, as I turned my back on a long-term relationship, an extended stint in the US for university and then work, and embarked on a month-long solo backpacking excursion around central Europe. It was a new chapter in my life, and I wasn’t sure what or where I was heading...

Devil, Thomas Theodor Heine When I look at the joy and delight in my daughter’s face, as she bounds around the living room like a small elephant, galloping around the house, giggling endlessly, calling me ‘daddichka’, my heart simultaneously melts and breaks. A question bounces around in my head: what on earth have I done? Why on earth did we bring a child into this world? Into such a cruel, nasty world?  Confessions, revelations and yet, perhaps, nothing new: This and my previous blog from 2009-present, in no particular order: existentialist crises…fatherhood…fatherhood in an age of anxiety…wistful peregrinations…tales of sordid shenanigans and flirting with barmaids and waitresses…students and their antics…teaching…travelling…love and romance…philosophy…reading…reading…more reading…quotations…bugbears and pet hates…Ways of Escape…the future…optimism v pessimism…sports…gambling…investing…weddings…buying flats…heartbreak…anguish…angst…technology…being a Luddite…medical experiments…...

русский корабль, иди нахуй!  'I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.’  ‘I can’t even imagine what it’s like.’ These sentences, or a variation of them, have featured in most of the emails I’ve sent and received in the past month or so. As clichéd as it is, it has to be said because it’s so true. I truly can’t imagine what some of my friends are going through. I truly can’t imagine the unspeakable horrors happening right now. My grandmother used to tell me stories about Belfast being bombed by the Germans during World War II. She was a teenager at the time, and the tales she told me about fleeing to bomb shelters in the middle of the night and the bombs exploding around her and the house just across the road that got bombed were simultaneously fascinating yet terrifying. I couldn’t even imagine the reality. From afar, with the passage of time, it was so distant that I could barely comprehend how shocking it must have been. It seemed like more of an epic adventure. Spend...

My daughter has reached that magical age where she constantly asks ‘why?’ to just about everything. Why can’t I stick my fingers in that electrical socket? Why do the birds sing every morning? Why does the Gruffalo have a wart on his nose? Why do you read books without pictures, daddy? Kids are insatiably curious. ‘Daddy, why are bad people trying to hurt people in Ukraine?’ How do I explain the concept of pure, unadulterated evil and cruelty and megalomania emanating from the most despicable person in the world and the most reviled, loathsome nation in the world, from inflicting untold misery and devastation on our beloved home?  How do I explain what’s going on right now and how we may not be able to return to our home, and to our new, long-awaited, finally-completed flat that we've only recently moved into, and how do I explain to her that she might not see her kindergarten friends again? Two weeks ago I made one of the most agonising and gut-wrenching decisions of my life. I to...