Song for someone.

Today marks the 38th anniversary of the day I came out of my mother's womb. It was the early hours of a Sunday, 19 September 1976, and my parents were at a restaurant, where they had been dancing all night. When my mother's water broke, she was rushed to hospital by her cousin, because my father was in a state, and he didn't go see her - or me - until Sunday afternoon.

I had existed - first as a handful of cells, then as a foetus, then as a baby - since mid December 1975, which is about 40 weeks before I naturally came out of my mother's womb. During this time, my mother read The Continent, by Brazilian writer Érico Veríssimo, and, like many people who have also read it, fell in love with the manly and rugged-looking Captain Rodrigo Severo Cambará, a sort of Gaúcho Heathcliff. I was named after him.

The Policy Of Truth.

In 1983, construction workers found a decomposing human head whilst digging in a peat bog in Cheshire. Identified as a middle-aged female, the police soon linked the head to Malika Reyn-Bardt, missing since 1960. Her husband, Peter Reyn-Bardt, in prison on different charges, when faced with the discovery, confessed to murdering her and burying her in the bogs. He was duly convicted and sentenced based on his confession, though shortly after his trial the head was radiocarbon dated to actually be 2,000 years old, and not that of his missing wife.

Family life.

So, I've started blogging again, roughly a year after I deleted every single post here since 2004. Since before I even got married. That was part of the trouble I was going through in my divorce.

So, it's 2014 and I'm divorced. Been divorced for a year now. Had a serious relationship during this time, but this, too, has ended, unfortunately. 'Unfortunately' because I was very fond of her. Still am. But the relationship seems to be dead beyond any sort of recovery. Just like my marriage.

In many ways, I've become a different person in all this time. I've lost 40 kilos, which is almost twice my daughter's weight. I've become much closer to my daughter, who's soon to turn 6. I've lived alone, which is something I'd never really done before. There are still many things to change, to improve, and to learn. But I've been doing the rounds.

I've also been trying to investigate my family history further. I've found that I have distant relatives in the countryside. One of them is actually a successful male model in Milan. He actually looks like one of my cousins on my mother's side, ironically. 'Ironically' because he's from my father's side. Another is a beautiful young girl who seems to be a trader here in São Paulo. Neither of them knows me nor that we're related. I don't think they know each other either.

I've also found I seem to have a lot of family in Spain, especially in the Valencia area. Their last names are spelt 'Escales' rather than 'Oscalis' or 'Eskeles', and many of them seem to be related. I found all this out last January, visiting the Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv with my ex-girlfriend. I did find a wealth of information on both my parents' families, as well as my ex-wife's family.

It will be very interesting to teach my daughter all this and where she came from, and what her ancestry and cultural heritage is.