The Juggling Kid

I was at the Wigan One World festival this afternoon, once again whoring that wonderful website which I get paid to look after, when I saw a small kid, certainly no older than 10, juggling with about six clubs.

It annoyed the hell out of me.

Not because he was invading my personal space, not because he was especially arrogant or anything about his tallents or anything like that. No, the only reason it annoyed me was that he could actually juggle, and he was bloody good at it too.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this weird fascination with juggling and jugglers, yet no matter how hard I try, I really can’t do anything more than a bit of half-arsed juggling with two apples.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: No matter what I do in life, no matter how successful I am in my career, no matter how beautiful my future kids are or how long I remain happily married to the love of my life, I will always consider myself a complete failure for no other reason than my ability to juggle.

Thinking about it, I suppose my obsession with juggling has something to do with me being such a dyspraxic, clumsy sod. Honestly, I struggle to catch things, keep hold of them and manage not to drop or break whatever’s in my hands.

It pisses me off something rotten, and it’s something I really wish wasn’t a part of me. In a way then, I guess that I see juggling as the polar opposite of clumsiness, and the more I wish that I wasn’t so clumsy, the more I see juggling as the pinacle of, erm, unclumsiness.

I don’t know, maybe I’ll run away and join the circus.

To work or not to work?

OK, here’s the internal crisis I’m currently wrestling with. Do I go to work tomorrow or not?

I’ve sort  of, kinda, somewhat booked the day off tomorrow, though since I can’t have the whole day off due to some meeting, I’m expected to be in for at least half an hour.

So, on Friday I was speaking to my boss and pontificating as to whether or not I should just come in, do the whole day and take the day off at some other point, maybe Tuesday, or the day after.

This seems like a good idea to me, after all, there’s plenty of stuff that needs doing at work and it would be nice to get it all out of the way before I take some time out to relax.

But then again, I’ve been up and about since five o clock this morning, it’s now twenty to ten and I’m so vehemently knackered that it’s giving me a headache. Perhaps I could do with a lie-in and a good old rest.

To be honest, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Perhaps I’ll sleep on it.