In an ideal world, this place would somehow probe the deeper meaning of something somewhere, but instead it continually rattles off the minutia of life; a trip here, a happening there, perhaps a snippet of life previously unreported. Did you know that they sell memory sticks in the shape of a penguin, ones with a cute little blue rubber scarf no less? I got one for Christmas you know.

You see what I mean?

Here is not really place for great revelations or world events. To engage with those might reveal more than I'm comfortable with, give a clue to what's inside, that inner seething mass.

So instead you must piece the puzzle together for yourself, but as yet I've not given you the corners and precious few of the bits of the sides. Do you see a picture at all? I think I lost the lid of the box some time back, the picture was faded and peeling anyway, so I'm not sure it would help you in any event. Maybe some lyrics would help here...

The Chamber Of 32 Doors

Artist: Genesis
Album: Lamb Lies Down on Broadway

At the top of the stairs, there's hundreds of people,
Running around to all the doors.
They try to find themselves an audience;
Their deductions need applause.

The rich man stands in front of me,
The poor man behind my back.
They believe they can control the game,
But the juggler holds another pack.

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.

I'd rather trust a countryman than a townman,
You can judge by his eyes, take a look if you can,
Hell smile through his guard,
Survival trains hard.
I'd rather trust a man who works with his hands,
He looks at you once, you know he understands,
Don't need any shield,
When you're out in the field.

But down here,
I'm so alone with my fear,
With everything that I hear.
And every single door, that I've walked through
Brings me back here again,
I've got to find my own way.

The priest and the magician,
Singing all the chants that they have ever heard;
They're all calling out my name,
Even academics, searching printed word.

My father to the left of me,
My mother to the right,
Like everyone else they're pointing
But nowhere feels quite right.

And I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.
I need someone to believe in, someone to trust.

Id rather trust a man who doesn't shout what he's found,
There's no need to sell if you're homeward bound.
If I chose a side,
He wont take me for a ride.

Back inside
This chamber of so many doors;
I've nowhere to hide.
I'd give you all of my dreams, if you'd help me,
Find a door
That doesn't lead me back again take me away.

PS: For those who liked the cliffhanger at the end of the last post, you'll be pleased to know that the dead PC is now well again. Resurrected, Lazarus like, courtesy of a power supply replacement. Some small pride at having been able to diagnose and rectify the problem, a small part of my world that could be changed to the way I wished to see it, an opportunity to use long ago acquired skills, the sort that are never likely to become surplus to requirements.

Some days after the return to work and there seems to be a return to the position in which we found ourselves before I departed for the festivities. Things look much as they did before providing a sense of ambivalence - on the one hand things are no worse than when I left, on the other, neither have they improved. Hence the stasis.

I even looked the word up and found an slightly unexpected application for the word

Pathology Stoppage of the normal flow of a body substance, as of blood through an artery or of intestinal contents through the bowels.

I feel a desperate urge to share here, but in the interests of decorum, I shall instead just blame the meds...

Sleep since the return has been at a premium. 02:00 alarms for 03:00 taxis off the back of 30 minutes sleep do not make for good travel companions. When combined with 3 hour waits for aircraft that take-off late, barely getting to the connecting flight in time to wait on the tarmac for a further 3 hours whilst the aircraft sits in the anti-icing queue, you begin to understand the rather disjointed feeling AM and I had on finally making it to Riyadh. It was a kind of an odd weekend where sleep fell wherever it came. It's finally coming right, but the tiredness persists, compounded no doubt by the New Year imperative to exercise.

Reality is starting to kick in though, its inbox cleared of its assorted detritus and evidence of carefully laid plans discarded in absentia. Recalibration is being applied and asserted where needed, concerns assuaged and strategies reviewed. This too will come to pass...

Closer to home there are the inevitable piles of newly acquired gifts stacked on the dining table, the sense of not quite being home and the next escape to be planned. Calls to book flights already as strong as the northerly wind outside - OK, so it is in February, before when I need a new visa, a new driving licence and a new iqama (residents permit). Bureaucracy here is such that these things must align with the precision more commonly associated with a Cruise missile strike if I am to escape these parts in a little over 6 weeks time.

Before then there is the music PC to resurrect, whilst away, it died. It has been resuscitated, fitted with a pacemaker, has died again and must now face surgery. What I really need is for a Gregory House like figure to step into the breach and identify the true cause of the emergency before I undertake a wholly unnecessary (and expensive) procedure with limited hope of success. Time I think to contact 'GomezMan' - where are you Eddie?

For anyone now wishing to read such things, my About page now contains something more than a place holder. Thank you for listening, you've been a wonderful audience

Inspired by Ellie over here, as I don't think she quite believed me when I suggested she provides such, I thought I'd [ poach / recycle / adapt / embellish - delete as applicable ] my comments from her latest post and see what if anything it amounted to. I've not put anything up since getting back to the UK for the seasonal merriments and I'm beginning to suspect that small band watching maybe feeling just a tad short-changed of late. As November and December paid testament, I'm not exactly short of words as a rule, but I must confess a general listlessness towards committing thoughts to my database.

Christmas has come, Christmas has gone. The usual events have played out much in the manner that could have been predicted. Too much money spent, too much food eaten, but remarkably well behaved with the demon drink (though I can account for the demolition of 6 bottles of pretty decent champers, though not all by myself I hasten to add). Everything I thought I wanted has duly arrived and more, though how the staggering pile of books that went on my Amazon list are going to make it back to KSA is anyone's guess.

In the interests of remaining on a sound financial footing, I have not dropped into Sounds Great and slapped the Egg Card onto this little beauty though I'm sorely tempted all the same.

Which neatly brings me onto where I started off over at Ellie's place and yet another puritanical demonstration of good behaviour in the face of the temptations of Beelzebub and all his little wizards - should you have a liking for such insanities...

AM and I were exceptionally well behaved last night. The pair of us pretty much chilled in front of our respective laptop and PC for the evening, she looking at houses, me buggering about with the intricacies of jQuery (I live the wild life me...). Our one bottle of wine with our evening meal wasn't going down well at all on my part, its compatibility with my assorted mix of tablets seemingly at an all time low. We watched a few fireworks out of our 2nd storey bedroom looking across Thornton-Cleveleys, Bispham and Blackpool towards The Tower. For the most part they were a rather feeble affair compared with what Sky News offered us from Edinburgh, Sydney, Madrid and other locations

was it me, or should London have come up with something more spectacular; I don't know to be truthful, it could have just been poor coverage on Sky's part, but it didn't look to be as much as a capital city should offer, recession or not - maybe they're saving them for 2012...

There did look to be some sort of show on near where the North Pier should be, but we are too far away to see the very best of it. Bed eventually came after 01:00, but that would have been long before many.

I've never quite been able to get into the spirit of the New Year somehow, it feels to me more of a wake for something passing than it does a celebration of a new birth. I don't know exactly where that came from in my life, but it's so ingrained, I'm not sure I could change it now. The best I can point to is that I'm rarely in the same place at this time of year as I am for the rest of it - it never quite feels like the right place for it. Perhaps it will work itself out when I've settled myself in one location, or alternatively when I've worked out what's so fascinating about getting excessively drunk for no discernible reason...

Of late I've been a little quite, but no mind to that, I've got some time I can spend here safe in the knowledge that everything is prepared and safely dealt with ahead of being relocated temporarily to the other side of Europe - the side I was born on.

I sit waiting until it's time to go and hop on the transport bus across to the airport. Nothing fantastically exciting in that, but the nerves have steadily built throughout a busy day. Have I got everything done I need to do in the office, do my charges know what's expected of them, have I got my tickets, why won't it let me do the on-line check-in (AM had no problem), is everything packed, have I remembered everything AM asked me to bring with me, is the fridge cleared of perishables. It's these things that play on an already hyperactive mind - for once...

It's done though and now I wait, 40 minutes till I have to depart and park up outside the compound supermarket where the bus collects. Waiting inspires the idle mind to wander seemingly directionless.

Directionless is how I feel anyway. It's been an odd year all round...

• Career progression - FAIL
• Health matters - FAIL
• Band - FAIL
• Golf - FAIL, FAIL and thrice FAIL
• Photography?

...not quite fail, but I think the status quo has been maintained. I know what I'm doing, when I do it, but there are distinct overtones of aimless here too.

You'd think it couldn't all be bad and you'd be right, as there are some ups to show for the year

• AM and I visited Hong Kong which was great fun
• I got my Canon 5D MkII and a bunch of 'L' series lenses
• I'm now the tech admin for The Photo Beat
• I completed my 10 years in KSA, which equates to a significant financial enhancement when I finally choose to depart this place
• I can now pay the mortgage off should I wish to do so
• The garden over here finally got planted up
• Last but by no means least, AM got her degree under her belt

On balance, I guess you'd say things evened themselves out across the year. No real reasons to complain as far as I can see, yet it's not sitting comfortably with me at the moment. I know what the problem is, I feel the need for a change of scenery, not geographically or emotionally you understand, but more on the work front. It feels too easy despite the many bear traps and 'IT!' Lets be honest here, I'm absolutely bored shitless of it all...

I'll be back for more next year though, in the meantime, I'd better go get that bus.