Wining

This is a blog I never thought Id write for a number of reasons. If it rambles a little then forgive me this isn't an easy one to write.It is though important for me to have closure on the events of the past year and this blog is the end of it all. I didn't think I would ever write again, I had nothing to say and I stopped doing things I enjoyed this blog being one of them.

A year ago today I was diagnosed with depression. To be honest it had been with me for many years but I had never done anything about it. I had time off work and some tablets and 4 weeks later I went back to work. That decision was the worst one I have ever made. I ended up worse than I was before, on a higher dose of tablets, and to be honest if I wasn't so heavy and crap at knots I wouldn't be here. Does that shock you? I know my family my read that and its part of the story they don't know. So why put it in? Because I need to have complete and utter closure and that means writing things that people may find difficult to read. Damn it Ive been through hell, Ive put my family through hell and I'm angry that I made them suffer as much as I was.

I'm not proud of what I put them through, there were times when I was an arsehole, there were times when I didn't deserve them, but I was ill. Does that excuse it? In my mind to a certain degree it does. That sounds incredibly selfish doesn't it? To me it is a way of coping, not excusing, with what I did. Will they ever forget and forgive me? I don't know, they are still here so Ill take that one day at a time for now.

Depression is an awful soul destroying illness, it doesn't just affect you, it affects others but you don't care, all you care about is how you feel. Nothing, and I mean nothing else matters. Ive been to the darkest places in my mind that scared the hell out of me. Ive had thoughts Ill never discuss with other people, there have been times when I have wanted to run away, to leave it all behind but for some reason I never did. I don't know why.

There was always something that held me back, something that would reach into me and tell me it would get better. I had to believe that and thankfully now a year later, a year after being diagnosed, a year of 40mg tablets and three months off work, I am free of it. Free of pills, free of darkness, free of being someone I hated for all the hurt I was causing, and for once, selfishly I'm happy. Happy to be me. God that feels good saying that.

There is still an anger in me at what I have done to people around me and to myself, I fight that most days because the last year has been a total waste. I could have done so much more with my life in these past 12 months and I haven't. To be honest I feel Ive wasted them, Ive hurt people and I cannot take that back. All I can do is beg their forgiveness and hope that we can build bridges again and one day be the way we were. All I can do is ask for their forgiveness.

For the first time in a long time I am making plans on what I want to do with my future. Ive started going to the gym again, finally determined to lose the weight that has burdened me for too many years, Ive rediscovered a love of reading that I thought I had long lost and a pleasure in spending time with the people who mean the most to me.

Ive dabbled with the bible, it is giving me more questions than answers but its also bringing me a comfort and a spiritual awakening that is helping me cope. I'm not saying I'm going to convert calm down, I'm just saying that it is giving me some spiritual comfort and to be honest at the moment its helping. I have trouble believing a lot of it to be honest, to many years being a non believer but it is challenging my take on things and that can only be for the better.

So to the following people I thank you for all you did even when you didn't know what to say or do at times, the fact I KNEW you were there helped me.

Paul the best bro in law a man could ask for you were so pissed at me at times but you never said anything, even when I deserved a bollocking you didn't give it, you listened when I talked so thank you, Nicky my little sister you saved me that day at yours when I really lost it, Gary for being at the end of the phone, Sarah-Jane for asking how Sarah was I will be forever grateful and finally my wife. I cant believe we made it, Its been hard for you as it has for me but we made it. You are the love of my life and the reason I'm still here.

I'm fighting back and for the first time in a long time I'm winning. It feels good to be me.

My Son

Whenever I hear a new IPhone is being released I have mixed emotions. These emotions are of intrigue to see what they are going to do next, but mostly as the years have passed, guilt. Guilt because of a decison I made in October 2007.

I worked for a well known telecoms company, my career had really started to take off and I was going places. For the first time in my life I had a goal that I wanted to achieve, a goal that people were telling me I would achieve. Everything at work was going great and then I made THAT decison.

We were sat in the consultants room at the end of October, my wife heavily pregnant with out fourth child, as we sat looking at a calander and the date when they would perform the Caesarian for the arrival of our son. The doctor lent forward and said " Okay how does the 9th November sound?".

I sat there and said nothing, my blood had just run cold, the moment that my son would be born, my own flesh and blood and all I could think of was "No bloody way, the IPhone is released that day". I didn't say a word I sat there stock still. What could I say? "yeah em unfortunatley doc that date isn't good for me, you see I need to be at work that day". I couldn't do it, my wife would kill me.

Except she didn't she looked at me and said "well he won't be there that day" the doctor, shocked by this didn't know what to say. "The IPhone is out that day so he can't make it" I smiled sheepishly, what else could I do, if at that moment in time the earth could have swallowed me up then I would have gladly dived in.

"Okay then" the doctor a little shocked by this said " Okay we'll how about the week after?, the 16th?"

I nodded yes meekly.

"That is unless Nokia have a new phone out I suppose?" He smiled as he said it but it didn't help stop my guilt.

When work found out the reaction was a mixture of suprise and acknowledgement at the commitment I'd shown. I was mentioned on company wife conference calls, people emailed me joking at what I'd done, to be honest I was embarrassed. I promised myself that from that day forth I would never do that again.

Five years later I don't work for that company anymore, I'm still married to my wonderful wife and our son Reece started school today. He looked so grown up going to school  and yet I still had tears in my eyes when I said goodbye to him, the way I did with all the kids when they started school. He was too interested in what was going on around him to notice his Dad, I caught the eye of another father there and I could see the same thoughts and tears in his eyes. We nodded to each other and quickly looked away. My pang of guilt at how I had delayed brining this beautiful little boy into the world for a phone rose in my throat and I had to leave the room.

Now as Im about to move to a smaller store, I realise I finally have my priorities right. My wife and kids come first. Im working to live not living to work. I'll still carry the guilt that never goes, but I know one day he will know the story and perhaps he will laugh at what I did. Most of all though I'll  make sure he doesnt make the decision I did. No job is more important than family or friends, the people you love and who love you..

 I hope you enjoyed your first day son, love you forever Dad x

Sunday Dinner

Theres a tradition in my family that started when I met my wife. Its nothing fancy or difficult but just something that has happened every Sunday for years. My In-laws and myself along with my wife and her brother would have Sunday dinner togther. Over the years my Brother-in-law would bring his girlfriends to this meal and eventually his wife. Other parts of the family would pop by every now and then but at the root of it all was us.

During the summer months we would progress to a BBQ outside and sit in the sun drinking cold beers enjoying each others company. With time my kids appeared and we would watch them run around the garden. During the winter it was roast potatos and meat huddled in the front room telling stories about how our weeks had been, the good and the bad. It was something too look forward to.

If anyone wanted us they knew where to find us, an open door policy operated, if you wanted to come you could and if there wasnt enough chairs then you ate it on your lap on the settee. I dont know how she did it but she always made sure that there was enough. My mother in law was brilliant at it.

This has carried on now into my new home. It wasnt something I intended to do if Im honest but after cooking everyone Christmas dinner two months ago, which I enjoyed more than I thought I would, I guess its my turn now to carry it on for years to come. Every Sunday since then its been all round mine. I start cooking the meat then its all over to the fields to work up an appetite which allows me to share precious moments with my kids and also allows me to hopefully make memories for them as well. 

This weekend the world and his wifes cousin decided to descend on my humble abode. My daughter invited two of her friends, without telling me, my sister arrived with my nephews and their mate as well. They are good kids, polite, pleasant and fun to be around. There was a dynamic change this weekend though, as I sat in my chair at the top of the table I watched them as they tried to be comfortable around each other. The boys awkward and embarrassed, the girls all giggly and nervous as it was clear that there was perhaps the first flutterings of feelings coming through.

I was never a great one with the girls as a kid, I could make friends with them easily no problem at all but I would have needed to be hit in the face with a shovel to pick up on any 'signals' and I guess I missed a few oppoutunitys with it. I did okay as I got older, although Im convinced that had more to do with dutch courage than any sudden change in my social skills.

I watched the looks the girls gave each other, a look only the female of the species would undertsand that 'I like him' that my duaghter is so good at picking up on. I watched as my nephew not quite old enough to understand what was going on (his mother hopes anyway, as my daughter is a few years older as are her mates) but embarrassed all the same. His friend turning red everytime one of them laughed or said something to him and us, the grown ups, well that would exclude my brother in law and I, making it worse by making kissing noises at them.

I didnt always want to go for dinner to my In-laws truth be told. There were numerous times I could have done without it, but sitting there Sunday I realised why they put so much emphasis on it. Your friends will come and go but the one constant you have in life is your family. My family dynamic has changed massively over the years and it will continue to change further as my kids grow up. Friends for dinner will be replaced by partners, the laughter of my youngest, that high pitched giggle they all seem to have, will hopefully be replaced by grandkids.

The one thing that I hope to create though is a sense of belonging. That no matter what your week has been like, no matter who youve argued with within the family, that come Sunday there is a place waiting for you at my table for dinner. The same way my In-laws did for me for all those years.

A little naive perhaps but something I will cling onto dearly until my last breath or Im not able to do the dinners anymore. Family to me means everything, and Im proud of mine.

A chersihed memory.

The box had sat sealed under the shelf next to the DVD player since the day I had bought it many years before. I had waited for this moment and now finally that day had come. We had walked down the aisles of toy shops for what had seemed like forever and I was the one who always seemed to stop and stare at the array of toys in this particular section. He never showed the slightest flicker of interest, not once, but now that had changed.

I remember as a boy when I had been exceptionally good my Mum would return home from shopping with a treat for me. I would sit there anxiously waiting to see if she had bought the figure that I had requested, the one toy that would make me smile and rush off into another room, another world. I would carefully take the toy out of the plastic bubble, trying to preserve the cardboard backing as there was always a photo of the character on it from the film.

I would play for hours recreating the scenes that had been ingrained in my head from the most recent visit to the pictures. My kids find this funny when I tell them there wasnt any DVD players back then. To be honest we had only just got a video player!. If you wanted to see the latest films you queued at the cinema and went and watched them on the big screen.

Once again I was 8 years old and walking blinking into the light of the foyer. My head filled with more questions than answers and in a state of high excitement at what Id just seen. He was his father? Really? Wow! Wait until I got to school on Monday and told my friends all about it. As I held my Dads hand and chattered ten to the dozen, the sugar rush from popcorn and coke still rushing around inside of me, I saw it. It was and still is one of my greatest memories of being a child.

In the foyer lining one whole wall was a glass cabinet someone had brilliantly recreated a scene from the film, using exactly the same toys that I had at home. Someone had spent hours getting the detail exactly right, the figures placed in the exact right place as they had been on the screen. I stood there and pressed my face up against the glass, remerging myslef back into that world once again and taking in every detail so as I could try and recreate the exact same thing at home.

I can picture it now as clear as day, the colours off the backing paper used to line the glass, the position of the characters, the smell of popcorn wafting through the air. If I close my eyes and think hard enough I can even remember my Dad smiling and telling me it was time to go and me pleading for just one more moment. I close my eyes and I am eight years old once again. 

As I ripped the cellophane from the DVD boxset my hands trembled slighty. This was a moment I had wanted to happen for years. There are certain things fathers wish to share with their sons, kicking a ball over a park, taking them to a football match or whatever sport they are into. More importsntly though is being able to share with their son a lifetimes enjoyment from something they enjoyed as a child and hoping that they get the same pleasure from it that you did.

I watched him and his brother, my sons, during the film more than the film itself. I didnt need to watch it closely I knew it word for word and could tell exactly what the next scene would be. Their faces didnt move the whole time, they sat there for two hours and didnt blink. Enthralled by it they asked to watch the next one straight away. I smiled knowing that what I had been waiting for all these years didnt disappoint me. It had been worth the wait. Myself and my sons now have something we can share for a lifetime as me and my Dad did before them. 

Like it did for me as a child it all started "In a galaxy a long, long time ago......................................"

Valentines Day

As a child I hated Valentines Day. I was never the most popular off kids but that didn't stop me hoping that today I would find a collection of cards waiting for me. I would make my way to school and see the latest romances holding hands and kissing until one of them needed air desperately. Apparently the trick was to breathe through your nose!! I wish someone had told me that one, I tried for years to breathe through my ears.

I would sit patiently at my desk, too nervous to lift the lid hoping that the cards would be hidden inside. The wooden desk would seem larger than ever at this time of year but always smaller and lacking the size needed to hide within when the lack of cards became apparent. I would hide my disappointment and watch as the most popular Girl and Boy of the time would get double figures and wonder if one day I would be that lucky.

It mattered so much back then, to the teenage me, that I wonder how I ever got through it. I had my heart broken more than once, I always chased after the ones who were just a little out of my league. I got lucky a few times and did punch above my weight every now and then. It felt good to hear the comments of "You lucky git" and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. It never lasted long though soon enough I was back chasing dreams I couldn't carry.

Ultimately though I was the one who would be standing outside with their face pressed against the glass looking in. That was until I met you. I knew straight away you were the one, you have always been the one. There will never be another. Four kids and thirty years bind us, we are not always perfect but we work and we make it work, we've done that ever since we met when we were 17.

I loved you from the moment I saw you and I always have. We have been through so much together and yet we have never waived or broken. These past few years have been our toughest, yet somehow we are still here, together, and that's more credit to you than me.

I've made mistakes and done some stupid things, let's be honest the only reason we still have friends is because of you, not me. You were there for me through the loss of my dad, and you were there for me when I had my meltdown and finally sought the help I needed.

We are like chalk and cheese with some of our interests but that is also what binds us as we have so much to talk about. Ive written about you many times on here but it didn't seem enough somehow, as if I could have done more. Ive caused you worry and stress and yet you are still here. Still giving me grief for putting Jean's in the tumble drier or not washing up properly.

So many relationships have gone to the wall, but not us, not yet. I hope never. 24 years ago I proposed to you on Valentines Day. I had it all planned, nice dinner, and then I'd get down on one knee. I didnt though, the moment I saw you that evening I was down on my knee and you said yes. I wouldn't change it for a thing.

I will buy you your rose for Valentines Day like I always do, that will never change. Youll kill it in a few days because you forget to water it, that will also never change.

Im not the greatest writer or the best story teller, but I find it easier to write words than say them. Say thank you for the last 30 years and if I'm lucky enough to get another 30 I hope they are with you.

I love you doris

Tony x

Auntie Janice

When I think of you I see your long hair, a cigarette in your hand and a smile on your face

Some of my happiest childhood memoeries involve you. You like Mum had moved away from Hastings and settled down the road from where we lived. You had left the seaside and all its sounds and smells and moved to the city, something as I got older I couldnt understand.

You taught me to whistle as a kid, laughing as I tried to make the shapes with my mouth, you didnt stop though until I could do it. I used to stay at your flat with my cousins Daniel and Michael, and Uncle Clive used to make us scrambled egg on toast for breakfast. We used to go to the video store next door and chose a film, a great memory I have is of you getting it on Betamax when you had a VHS and blaming Clive for not telling you. He stood there dumbfounded as the rest of us laughed out loud.

Then you moved home, back to Hastings, I knew I would still see you but not as often as I had done. From visiting every week it became every other month. My cousins and I grew apart, they made new friends as did I, but whenever I went to Hastings yours was the house I wanted to stay in. A huge Victorian town house, three different levels I'd never seen anything like it.

The hill that you moved onto was an absolute killer to walk up but what a great time I had riding down it on Daniels bike. I hit 30mph at one stage, no helmet and going so fast I had to take my feet of my pedals, it scared the life out of me, but left me with a huge grin all the same.

Then there was the time Ann caught us with the copy of Mayfair, I was staying over and Daniel had a copy from his mate, we were under his covers with his torch, feeling like men but really just kids, when Ann came in and caught him. I laughed so much I had an asthma attack, something we shared as is the norm in our family both of us having inhalers.

As the years have passed we've not seen as much of each other as we should have done. My fault really I didn't and still don't visit as much as I should. With a family of my own now I use the excuse of not having the time but knowing with a bit more effort I could get there if I wanted.

My love for the seaside comes from Mums side of the family and from you. I understand now as I'm older why you went back, the lifestyle, the property, the sea air, it appeals to me more and more with every passing year. The problem is I married a city girl and I guess I'll never fulfill that dream I have of walking along the beach on a Sunday afternoon after dinner. I can dream though cant I?

You passed away at 3.30am on the 24th Novemeber 2011 surrounded by family and friends. As hard as its been to write this I wanted to put down in words how much I loved you so as I can always have something to look back on and remeber you by. You were my Auntie Janice and you always will be, and though you may no longer be here I will think of you whenever I'm walking along that beach in Hastings. Love Tony xx

Just Older

The wives are in the kitchen chatting away, the kids all 9 of them are somewhere in the house, although we can't see them we can defiantly hear them. The three of us look at each other, smile and make our exit into the warm sunshine that has decided to grace us with it's presence in October. It's seems like us to want to have one last hurrah before the fall of winter.

We sit down on the dark wooded chairs, placing our glasses on the table, for two of us our days of drinking are long behind us, me because I want to, him because he never was able to drink more than a pint without falling over. The other one has never had a problem holding his drink, I remember going too his bedsit once and being very impressed by the pyramid of beer bottles he had managed to build. It stood almost 6 foot tall.

The hair is a little greyer, laughter lines have appeared around the edges of our eyes, our hairstyles haven't changed at all down the years. Mine is still parted on the left, the head is winning the battle of showing through the hair but I don't mind as I've started to show more grey hair now and I tell them it makes me look distinguished. He still has the shaven head from his youth, once he had got over the spiked hair look and realised it was cheaper to shave it himself he kept it. The other one has longish hair again. It's hard too remember a time when he didn't, a ponytail when I got married, it hasn't been anything other than shoulder length since.

We sit and moan about work, our wives and the kids, each showing the other the required amount of sympathy, adding a 'I wouldn't have that' every now and then but knowing far too well that we wouldn't dare say what we are thinking, or agreeing too, to our wives. We know it deep down as well but say it anyway, it's safe here, we can say what we feel knowing that the others won't mention a word to their partners.

We hold each others secrets, discussing them amongst ourselves, we know that none of us would cheat so we don't have to worry about those kind of secrets. We are lucky we all have met 'the one'. The secrets we hold are shared memories from our youth, the things we did and said. We laugh about them now and then, it's hard not too, we did some crazy things. We always were just on the side of legal, the thrill was in how far we could push it, always pulling back just in time. When I first moved into the flat with my wife, they would come around during the hot summer days, we would empty the fridge of all the food and fill it with beer, then spend the day drinking it all until my wife came home and found our weekly shop was inedible due to my lack of care.

We laugh about the girls we loved and left behind, of the fights we had and the friends we made and no longer see. These are memories we cherish and share, we tell others but they don't seem to laugh in the right places like we do, oh they smile politely but that real gut wrenching breath catching laugh only comes from us. We reminisce for hours and yet never feel uncomfortable when a silence falls between us.

We've been friends for 21 years this month and they are the two most important people in my life after my family. One is married to my sister, the other to a girl my wife went to school with. We all seem to fit together like we were meant to be. If ever I need someone to talk too they are there, and me for them. I've never had brothers but these guys are as close as I will ever get.

In our head we are still 18, running around Gants Hill, jumping in cars and eating Stevie's out of a silver carton. The reality is we are nearing 40 quicker than we would like, all married, all with children and wives. Yet we are the same as we were back then, we are just a little older.

Leaving

This place hasn't felt like home for a few weeks now, cardboard boxes are stacked neatly in every room, waiting patiently for the day to come when they will be transported to the new place. My feelings have changed now, once a place I called home it feels anything but now. The memories are still there, they will never fade, but it's just not home anymore, it's not my home.

We've been here 12 years now, it's gone so fast. I stand in the garden and remember the trees that covered the lawn, the concrete path that ran down the middle of the garden, the shed at the end on the right with it's net curtains. It's looks nothing like that now. The trees are gone and replaced with grass, the concrete path dug up and removed. The shed knocked down and replaced with a plastic one, half it's size and souless, the character of the shed unable to be replaced.

I turn and walk through the back door into the kitchen, remembering the winter when we had it built. It was so cold that year, we couldn't afford to have it built in the summer, we had to move out for three months whilst they did it. You pregnant with Grace, Laura a toddler, we moved in with your parents, watching from afar as it took shape. Choosing the paint and the kitchen, the tiled floor, the playroom we had built for the kids with the patio doors that led into the garden.

I run my hands over the smooth plastered walls, remembering the times I spent coming home from work and painting them, the drawn pictures we have stuck on the walls as proud parents whenever the kids have handed us their latest work. I walk into the hallway and see the mirror hanging there, a gift from the people we bought the house from. I run my hands over the White painted banister and remember the time I decided to strip it back to the wood, it didn't last long it looked awful.

I climb the stairs to the bedrooms, stopping at the one that houses the kids first. The holes in the wall show where the shelves have been that carried the cuddly toys we collected when they were young. The bunk beds that used to take up most of the room are gone now and I wonder how the kids will feel being split up into separate rooms in the new home. All they have ever known is sharing and it worries me a little. I touch the bright yellow wallpaper and remember the times I've painted it, the colours it's been, the cartoon characters that have been stuck on the walls and the sides of the room where the cots once stood.

I turn and walk into the bathroom, I can picture it strewn with towels and toys and I smile as I see the goggles on the side, left there from when the boys last had a bath and swam under water. I see the collection of shampoos and shower gels, strawberry cheesecake, lemon sorbet, orange and passion fruit, the girls love the smells of those when they bathe. I see the toilet seat is down and wet, a sure sign the boys have been in here already today. I grab a piece of toilet paper and quietly wipe the seat before walking across the halway.

I enter our room, I remember the freshness of the flowered duvet set cover on the freshly made bed. I stand there for a second and remember the good and the bad times. The tears that were shed when we lost our first baby, the tears of joy and suprise when I heard Michaels heartbeat for the first time. The cuddles from the kids and the sleepless nights when I couldn't fit in our bed because they were all in it. The cot by the side of the bed from when they first came home, the times I spent checking on them, poking them gently to make sure they were still breathing or laying there watching them sleep.

I walk out of the room and down the stairs for a final time. I reach the front room and walk into it one last time. The pictures are down from the walls now, all that's left is the telly on the unit we bought from ikea. We are leaving this behind, a gift to the new owners. I sit on the floor where the settee used to be and I can't help it lump reaches my throat. I realise this will be the last time I will ever walk through this house and it's hitting me hard. I take a deep breath and try and remember some good times, of which there are plenty.

Laura's first steps were in this room, we found out you were pregnant with Grace in this room, Michael said his first words in this room and Reece still cuddles you as he falls asleep on the settee in this room. I've told you hundreds, if not thousands of times I love you in this room, it's been the heart of our home for many years now.

I stand and take a deep breath, these last few steps are the hardest as I reach the door, the lump getting bigger in my throat, I feel the dampness of a tear leaving my eye and rolling down my cheek. I slowly open the door, turn once more too scan the place I called home, and walk through the door into the sunshine outside. I know I shall never return here, this isn't my home anymore. The memories are looked inside of me, they wont ever fade. I wipe my eyes and walk towards the car, the kids inside and you in the driving seat. I get in and you squeeze my hand, you don't have to say a word, there is nothing to say as we pull away and I watch the house get smaller in the distance. Were leaving and we are not coming back, I hear the wind rush past the car and I wonder if it's the house saying goodbye, one last message, a thank you for all the memories we've shared together, or perhaps it's just my imagination.

I hope not as I whisper a final goodbye to the place I called home.

Dear Laura

The skirt, clean and new hung neatly at the end of the bed. The dark blue blazer, with it's embroiled K and S hung on the door still covered in it's plastic, the plain white blouse freshly ironed hang next to that. I stood there last night looking at these items and wondered where the time had gone. Was it really today that you would be starting secondary school?

The years have passed so quickly, from when you were a baby and I nicknamed you the exorcist, your uncle Paul named you chicken legs because you were so skinny. Every time I fed you a bottle you would chug it down, your gums clamping on the teet like a vice. When you had finished I would spend 30 minutes winding you and you would then bring it all back up, hence the nickname 'exorcist' no wonder you had 'chicken legs'.

I remember when you first came home from hospital and I had your name printed on the back of my England shirt, I've still got it hidden away ready for when you turn 18, we had just beaten Germany for the first time in years at the Euro 2000 championships. I was a little worse for wear and sang you football songs for most of the night, your mum didn't mind and you kicked your legs and smiled at me, at least I thought it was a smile, perhaps it was wind, I'm sticking with a smile. You have joined me at Dagenham games and been to Wembley with me as well, memories I hope we both shall cherish.

You have grown so quickly and I know now that as you enter Secondary school the time will go even quicker. You will face new challenges, make new friends, and eventually will decide what career you want to do for the rest of your life. You have some many new and exciting adventures in front of you, and yet I feel I'm losing you a little every day.

The daughter I have loved and nurtured is growing into a beautiful, well adjusted young lady, who still cuddles up to me when we watch Doctor Who, but will eventually spend her Saturday nights out with her friends rather than with me, her old man. It's a good job this isn't paper otherwise it would like like one of your nanny's birthday cards with all tear stains on it.

I just wanted you to know that I'm proud of you, as is your mum and everyone else that knows you. That we will be here for you when you need us, to encourage you to try harder, to make the right decisions and sometimes perhaps to tell you no. To tell you well done, to tidy your room and do your homework, these years that are in front of you I want you to remember them for the right reasons, to look back on them and see what you achieved and never forget that we were always there for you.

This is your time to spread your wings, to dream your dreams and fulfil them, as much as I want you to stay 11 years of age forever I know that I can't and you have to start the path that will lead you into the rest of your life. Whatever happens remember I love you and I will always be there for you whenever you need me. Good luck Laura I hope Secondary school is everything that you hope it is. I love you dad x

It's Time For Us All To Take A Stand

As I walked to work this morning to get the tube there was an atmosphere in the air. The like of which I haven't ever felt around where I live before. It was on of fear and anxiety, palpable in the air flowing around me. Looters and scum came to my town last night. I saw sights I never thought I would see, sights that will stay with me for as long as I live.

Riot police standing in a line outside of The Kenneth Moore theatre in Ilford High Road, ready to face the onslaught of what was coming their way. Looters smashing in the doors of Debenhams in Romford Market, hooded scum getting off the bus and smashing Greggs to pieces in Barkingside high street. These are not inner city streets, these are small towns on the edge of Essex/East London, unfortunately though there was an air of inveatabilty about the whole scenario.

What ever your political want, this has been coming for many years now, the traditional areas around where I live which were once focal points of Jews, Sikhs, and Irish have been over ran with bad parents who don't give a shit about what their kids get up to and do. Does it surprise you I'm not blaming the immigrants, the asylum seekers or the Muslims?. Why should I? It doesn't matter what colour or creed you are if you have children and you don't bring them up to respect the people they live around you could be yellow with pink spots, a bad parent is a bad parent.

People have hidden behind the Human rights act as a reason for not parenting their children. They take from the state and then expect the state to clear up after them. Communities that once bonded together are now split down the middle, fratured beyond repair, because the children who are respectful and work for a living are being targeted by the kids that don't. There is no easy fix to tis situation it will take many years to correct and successive governments have swept the problem under the carpet.

I was on twitter for most of the night and saw the call from numerous people, even myself at one stage, to send the army in. That wouldn't have solved the problem it would have escalated it. The army do a brilliant job, but they are trained to kill, and they have no place on the streets of this country. I have an enormous amount of respect for them and the job they do, but we need a strong police force with the powers to act rather than tanks rolling down the streets.

This government has one chance, and only one chance, to change this country back into the great country it once was. It won't be easy, but they need our help and not our condemnation. I agree they could have returned from holiday earlier, but they can only act on the information they are given. I would bet my house on the fact that David Cameron was being told the police had it under control, by senior policeman who don't have a clue, clearly they didn't, by the way I'm not blaming the police in any way they are exstremley brave men and women and do a job I couldn't so they won't be criticised by me, but it became evident that it was out of control completely.

David Cameron now has to do the following in my opinion if he wants to win back the trust of the country

1. Anyone found to be in procession of items that were looted needs to be sent to prison, they are criminals end of.
2. Anyone who caused damage last night must be sent to clear it up, the cost of repairing the damage be removed from their benefits and then be sent to prison. If they are working for a living then their employers to dock their wages accordingly and sack them for bringing their company into disrepute.
3. Any child found to be under 16 and proven to have taken part last night to be sent to a young offenders institue
4. Any parent of said child to be convicted of willful neglect and their benefits to be docked to repay the damage, if that parent is working then again their employers needs to dock the money from their wages.
5. Rip up and rewrite the human rights act, stop people hiding behind it and let the police do their job without fear of being sued.

If you are old enough to participate in looting, rioting, destruction of property, and putting fear into ordinary citizens then you are old enough to face the full force of the law. It's time this country stopped pussy footing around with group hugs and play stations and made people accountable for their actions before its too late.

It worries me that tonight voilence could once again erupt on our streets, that once again our streets could be a mass of destruction but anyone that is reading this I ask this I ask this of you. Please don't take to the streets and confront these yobs, we don't need groups of vigilantes running a mock, attacking people with bats and other such objects. I fully understand the feeling of wanting to do this I really do, but there are other ways of doing this.

We all have to stop hiding behind our curtains and fearing our neighbours because of the colour of their skin or their religion. We need to get know them, and yes they must be far more open and honest with us as well, the laws of this land need to change, we know that. Immigration is at saturation point and has been for a few years now, we need to be toghter with it, but we also need to be able to deport criminals, fake asylum seekers and unlawful immigrants than we are no matter how much money it costs us in the short term.

The time now though isn't about scoring cheap political points, it's about making sure that laws are changed and that people feel safe where they live. It's about making parents responsible for the children they bring up and educate, it's about politicians being held far more accountable than they have ever been before. Mostly though it's about doing the right thing, making sure that we lead with our heads and not our hearts, as difficult as that might be, because in the end if we lead with our hearts then the scum win and we all lose.

Follow me on twitter @ahodgson72

Annoyed

There are certain things that annoy me, I try not to let them take over my day as that then means I walk around like a bear who has his hand stuck in a honey pot and can't get it out all day. There are however some instances of stupidity that are so bad, so annoying, so damn right infuriating that they need slapping in the face with a huge wet cod. So for your enjoyment and my own sanity I am about to go on a rant of nuclear proportions. You have been warned.

DVLA

How bloody hard can it be? You pay £33.50 to renew your driving license, the lovely people in the post office tell you it will be with you within 10 working days. You explain that you need it to complete your house move and they smile sweetly and say 'you will have it within the required time' you thank them and go home waiting for the postman to drop it through your letter box.......and three weeks later you are still waiting.

So you call the DVLA and get through to a person on the end of the phone ( we shall them Jessie, I have no idea if that's their real name but what the hell I don't care and to be honest he could have been a transvestite who recently buried his mother and is now sitting at work in her clothes for all the use he was). Anyway Jessie tells you that because it isn't on his computer screen he can't tell you where it is. You explain that the post office said it would be 10 days and you paid the exspress delivery for it. Jessie sighs and says that he cannot help you until it has been three weeks exactly as he cannot access the system until then. When he can access the system he won't be able to tell you where it is, just if it's been processed or not. You again explain the need for it but hey Jessis is programmed to read a script and cannot deviate from it as the seems on his mothers ball gown will burst and everyone will see his pink bra doesn't match with the green g-string he's wearing. 'call back in a few day's he says. You enquire how that will help and Jessie now with his five o'clock shadow showing says hat he will then chase it up and get back to you in two weeks. Fearing an anurisam you hang up, feeling like someone has just dumped in your toilet and left the skid marks on the pan for you to clean.

Estate Agents

Oh my old favourite the much abused and downtrodden estate agent. Oh shucks I know some of you are not as bad as the one I'm going to tell you about and you do a great job, so go on then give each other a hug and say well done to each other, yeah go on you deserve it after all your not a service industry or making a shit load of money out of people selling their houses are you? I mean you get such a bad press, well I think we should all have a bank holiday in your honour just so as we can say, oh my god it's sticking in my throat, 'thank you, you bunch of money grabbing manipulative bastards'. The estate agent who I am buying my house from is the lowest, worst kind of estate agent there is. She doesn't listen to anything I tell her, she lies on a regular basis, and rings me EVERY SINGLE DAY to ask me the same bloody question.

She plays a great game as well, are you ready you may want to try it with some of your mates, here are the rules.

1. Ring purchaser and tell them you need some information as their client is getting worried and may pull out

2. This will send you into a panic as you think you are going to lose the house you and your family have set your heart on, the kids are excited and planning bedrooms, the wife's excited about new carpets, curtains and settee's, you are excited about finally getting the 50 inch plasma you've always wanted as well, so you do as they say and ring the mortgage broker/solicitor/DVLA.

3. After spending your lunch break making the necessary calls, after all you don't want to be the reason the house falls through do you? Imagine the sad little faces and tear stained cheeks, you ring back the estate agent armed with the information they so desperately needed only to be told they are on the phone and will call you back shortly.

4. This is the key moment, DON'T call back the person who you've scared the shit out of even when they ring you three, to four times and you say you are on the phone. No make them wait, oh I don't know, let's say 24hrs and then ring them, as if nothing has happened and say you don't need the information anymore.

This estate agant has done this 9 times to me now. Yes 9 times, she has me by the short and curlies, she is cupping me like a tight jockstrap, I know it and she knows it, so being the man that I am what do I do? Do I decide to speak to her boss? Do I storm in there and tell her exactly what I think of her? Do I ignore her calls and see how she likes it? No I do what any right minded married man would do. I send in the wife. That fearsome creature who has you even tighter by the balls than the estate agent and who doesn't like anyone cupping her husband unless it's her. You wind her up, this normally takes a few days of moaning about the estate agent but tell her you'll sort it knowing your getting nowhere, you watch as she sees you trying to keep a lid on it and then only then do you ask for her help.

If you have planned this correctly you will launch a 5ft 2" mother of four ball of fury at the estate agent who will then become a quivering wreck as she is told in no uncertain terms that you will by pass her and deal directly with the home owner, thus losing her, her commission in the process, if she ever calls your husband again.

Some may see this as a sign of weakness, me? Nope I see it as playing to my strengths. You do not what to get on the wrong side of my wife, oh she may look all cute and cuddly but beating deep inside her chest is a block of ice so cold that every now and then I have to turn the penguins away from the door as their ice caps are melting. When she feels someone is playing her, well it ain't pretty and my sons ain't going to know what's hit them when they are older and getting up to what all teenage boys do believe me, but I love her for it even more. She is the go to person and by god my way would have seen me arrested, her way? Well let's just say I got an apology from the estate agent. Brilliant wasn't it.

So ranting over for a while, but go on tell me what's annoying you and I'll put a top ten together for the absolute best ones.

Twitter

Social networking is taking over the world. It allows you to have conversations with people you have never met or are likely to ever meet. You have a small glimpse into their lives for a few moments, you either comment or you move on to the next comment that's been posted. Twitter is a great example of this.

I love twitter, it took some getting used to at first but now I check it all the time, I don't always comment but I do enjoy reading it. It allows me to read what others are thinking, what's annoying them, what's making them happy, or what is making them sad. I don't know these people, well some of them I've actually met, but others well, I wouldn't be able to spot them in the street.

There are people that are funny, there are people who use language you wouldn't see in a bar full of seamen who have been at sea for 6 months. There are people, like me, who write blogs, there are authors, there are the just plain crazy(thank you block button), then there are normal people as well. All of us tweeting about our lives, hopes and dreams. It's is utterly brilliant.

What does annoy me though is the way that people 'follow' celebrities to abuse them, why?. Most of the people that do this are in their late twenties or older. Is their life that shallow?. Take for instance a footballer I follow, he posted something last night that to me seemed to be letting of a bit of steam, yet someone posted it on a forum and then loads of people had their 10 pounds worth commenting on what it meant. There was no hidden message, something had annoyed him, he started to tweet about it then stopped, end of story, yet it has grown into a situation where he feels he has to explain what that tweet was about. Absolutely crazy and unnessaccary.

I know the argument is that 'if you don't want someone to read it don't post it on a public forum' but surely if we wish too interact with these people we should allow them some space sometimes to say what they are thinking. If it had been me that wrote what he did would anyone question it? No of course not, so why just because he plays football do we feel we have the right to know the ins and outs of everything that he says. In all honesty we don't and should mind our own bloody business.

If a celebrity wants to post, oh I don't know, 'I hate it when people talk about me' why do we feel the need to ask them who, what and where?. Why can't we just see that perhaps something has pissed them off and leave it at that. If you want to send a message supporting them then feel free to do so, but to ask for details, well would you go up to the man at the bus stop and ask him if he had sex with a horse last night? No you wouldn't, would you. So why is a famous person any different?

If we want them too continue interacting with us, to retweet us, to perhaps read things we've written, to answer a question, or even wish happy birthday to your mum's third cousin three times removed then sometimes, just sometimes, we have to let them be human and get on with their lives. We need to not dissect everything they say looking for hidden messages in everything they write, to accept that perhaps they need too get it out of their system before they can move on. Perhaps just like we do when we post things on Twitter.

It's more than a home too me now.

I didn't like you when I first saw you, you were old and had been neglected through no fault of the previous owner, but all the same a lot of work needed doing to you. We were expecting our first child when we moved in, you had been replummed and rewired, the old plastic ceiling tiles had been hacked off of the ceiling and plasterboards were put in your place.

The garden, once loved and cared for, a neatly trimmed lawn, flowers of all colours ran along the borders, the neighbours had shown us the photographs from many years ago, had become overgrown and run down. Trees sprouted from the lawn, bushes overgrown and twisting their branches around anything that stood in their way, the lawn overtaken by long grass and weeds.

It took three months before we could use it, hours of toil and sweat, digging here pulling up there, roots that ran deep underground, were pulled and cut. It took it's toll in the most devastating way. We lost our child and I blamed you, the house, I blamed you for the stress it caused us, the work that we needed to do. For a while I dreaded coming home, it wasn't home it was a ruin and it had taken away something precious from us.

It wasn't your fault though was it?, You didn't ask to be let to go to rack and ruin, all you wanted was for someone to take care of you and love you in the way you deserved and had been before. It took time but you finally started to shine, you finally became a place that I looked forward to coming back too. You finally started to feel like home.

A blessing repeated a further three times down the years happened the year after we moved in. I remember coming home and Sarah all excited the white stick in her hand, the line strong and blue, and I finally knew that you were waiting to hear the sound of laughter running through your walls once more. A house that had been neglected through circumstance was once again ready to welcome a family into it. You've seen the joy and the pain, the laughter and the tears, you've heard the words of spoken love and yet you will hold all that you've heard and not repeat a word.

It's time now to say goodbye, it's not your fault we've have just outgrown you, the sorrow I feel as I watch the board being hammered into the lawn in the front garden goes deep inside me. I want to stay, we all do, but we need more room, the kids need more space, but I will promise you this. I will make sure that the right people buy you, people that will love and cherish you and treat you with the respect and love that you so richly deserve. In return you will keep their secrets, as you have done ours. You have been a great home, one I shall always remember, I shall cherish the memories I have here, I just wanted to thank you for the years we've been here and for allowing me to call you my home.

A love that will never die.

This weekend just gone was spent with my family, watching my kids run around and play with my mum and mother in law, it made me realise how much I miss my own Nan. She would have loved the sound of laughter and excited screams as the kids threw water over each other. She would have filled them full of sweets and fussed over them, but most of all she would have smiled at me and patted my hand, telling me how well I had done marrying my wife and the kids I was blessed with. Then she would have taken a drag of her silk cut, a sip of her tea, White two sugars, and told me the latest gossip about the family. This is for her, to my Nan one of the most amazing women Ive ever met.

I dont think of you as much as I used to, but that doesnt mean I dont miss you. You were the head of the family, like a Mafia Don, everyone sought your approval for the slightest thing we did. You didnt do this in a nasty way it was just the way it was, you desereved our love and respect and that is what you got. You never said you were proud of us, not to our faces anyway you showed it in other ways, the sly passing of a £5 pound note when no one was looking, the extra roast potatos placed on my plate with a wink, the bigger slice of cake when my cousins were fighting over a different smaller piece.

I could fill pages with the stories you told, phoning the ships captain when Dad, who was doing his national service at the time, didn't answer your letters, burning his cricket bat because you didnt have enough wood for the fire, walkiing to the bus stop in the pouring rain when I was 5 minutes late picking you up,hiding my older cousins when trouble followed them, giving presents back that you didnt like to other family members for their birthdays and Christmases and brazening it out when you got caught. You did it all with love never wanting to know the ins and outs just that we were safe and happy.

My love of old black and white films comes from you, I remeber coming to see you on Saturday afternoons and watching James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart, Henry Fonda and my own personal favourite James Stewart. You taught me to appreciate the story and the way it was told, my love of reading comes from you as well. I used to love sitting there listening to all the gossip of when Dad and my Uncles were kids. The way you could cut through the crap and get to the point with a turn of phrase. I envied the way you did that, saying what you thought not what people wanted to hear.

I remember as kids we all went on huge family holidays to Warners or Pontins, you encouraged us to enter everything and more often than not we won, except the year when you won Nan. The Babycham Glamourus Granny comeptition of Warners. Dad was convinced you wouldnt win and said he would stand on the table and sing to you if you did, he was never the extrovert like you and the embarrsament nearly killed him when you won and we made him stick to the bet. You laughed and smiled holding your Babycham green glass ornament, sipping the sherry my Uncles bought you as Dad stood there on the table in front of 600 people singing his heart out.

You used to say you would never make it to Christmas every year and this was the running family joke for many years, but then one year you didnt make it too Christmas did you?. You attended my wedding, everyone made a fuss of you, when asked for your name by the Master of Service you said "Their Nan" and walked straight past him changing the seating plan because you didnt like who you were sitting next to. No one said a word they just moved to their new seats

That was in the July and you was gone by the October, in your sleep the way you wanted to go. I didnt get to read the poem I wrote for you at your funeral it was attached to flowers outside, family politics took over once again and I stepped aside. Those that did stop and read it said you would have loved it, Ill guess Ill never now for sure. What I do know though is I missed you massively those first few years, I used to think about you all the time, look at old photos of you sitting watching the family around you. The passing of time is a great healer and although I dont think of you all the time as I said at the start, you are there in my heart and always will be.You truly were a very special lady.

Looking For The Dummy

I was just about to defeat the Daleks and share a kiss with the very delectable Rose when I felt a thud in my shoulder. I fought to ignore it but it got harder and harder until I was awoken just as we were about to lock lips. Annoyed at this interference I rolled over and saw a beautiful blue small pair of eyes staring at me sleepily, the dark brown hair was unkempt but the face was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen.

"Daddy I cant find my dummy" the sad round face said softly on the verge of tears.

This happens about three times a week, my youngest sleeps with a dummy and when he turns his head in his sleep it falls out. Now you would think that he would turn his head to the left or right wouldn't you? No, not him, after all this is the mind of a genius at work and he is three years old. Instead of this he negotiates the darkened bedroom, avoiding the toys strewn across the floor, like the mini ninja he is not waking the others as he escapes the bedroom.

He then bumps into the door as he makes his was along the landing, the only light the dimly lit bathroom that is now behind him. He eases through my bedroom door and finally meets the first obstacle on his journey to success. The wife. Now my wife could sleep through a bomb going off when she gets going, she can also sleep through the calls of Mummy that the intrepid explorer calls two inches from her face. Two inches.

She lifts an arm and shoves me in the back, waking me up so as I can go and look for the dummy, no not her who is closet to the door, me who is sound asleep dreaming of kissing Rose. When that doesn't work she switches to plan B. The ultimate weapon, the weapon that will make me rise and retrace the steps that the intrepid explorer took just moments ago. Get him to ask me.

Sleepily I stumble out of bed, pick him up and place him in my warm bed, I check the alarm, 3.15am, great I think. I turn and they are beginning to cuddle up together him on my still warm pillow, her pretending she hasn't seen or heard anything. I start to walk around the bed stubbing my toe on the corner, cursing I hear a small voice say:

"Daddy said a bad word"

"I know" the other voice replies "Tell him off"

"Daddy don't say bad words" He says pointing his finger at me

I apologise and exit the bedroom, reaching his room in as few as steps as possible. I take a deep breath knowing deep down that the request to tidy the bedroom earlier that evening wouldn't have been met. I slowly walk into the room and fall flat on my face. I lay there holding my breath hoping I haven't woken up the other three children that are sleeping soundly. I look for the architect of my fall and see a small tennis ball on the floor where my feet had once been. 

Deciding to stay on the floor I crawl towards the bottom of the bunk bed where he should be but isn't, he is now occupying my once warm bed and pillow, and lift the Thomas the tank engine duvet. There it lies like the holy grail, green and yellow in colour I grab my prize and head slowly back to the bedroom. I place the dummy in his mouth and get into the bed next to him knowing that he wont go back to bed now. I close my eyes, hoping to lock lips with Rose once again when he touches my face. Thinking he is about to tell me he loves me I smile at the warmth of his tiny fingers.

"Daddy I need a wee" He whispers

Knowing that there is more chance of me winning the Euro Millions Lottery than there is of my wife taking him I rise once again and lift him onto the floor. He runs off into the darkness and I follow him quickly. I remind him to lift his pyjama top and to lower his bottoms properly but am not in time to lift the toilet seat. Never mind I think I will wipe it in a minute.

Sleepily I walk back to the bedroom, the little man in front of me and lay down next to him once again. The wife stirs and gets up, whispering that she needs the toilet now that we have woken her up. Its only as she reaches the toilet that I remember the wee on the seat, I smile to myself and roll over closing my eyes tightly.

That will teach her to wake me up to get his dummy I think as the cry of "Ive just sat in wee" echos loudly from the toilet.

I Met Michael Jackson..........Sort Of.

I was a huge Michael Jackson fan as a kid, his posters adorned every part of my bedroom, I idolised him. I had bought the Bad album with some birthday money and I remember holding onto it for dear life on the way home, not daring to take it out of its sleeve in case it got a scratch before I got home and could listen to it for the first time. I ran upstairs and played it over and over again learning the words of by heart, I had never been happier.

Then the tour was announced for the following summer and my Mum, bless her, spent hour after hour hitting redial trying desperately to get me tickets for the show, but unfortunately to no avail. Disappointed I cried for a week. I poured over the pages of the newspaper reading every word of his first night at Wembley jealous of those lucky enough to have got tickets for the shows. Then a cunning plan was hatched, well it seemed like a good idea at the time. My mate and I decided to go to Wembley ticket less and see if we could buy one on the day. We set of with £30  each and we sat outside of Wembley for eight hours, hoping against hope that we would be able to get a ticket. The touts were way out of our price range so we took a chance and offered the bloke on the turnstile some money to let us in, to our amazement he did and it was the best concert Ive ever seen, Ive never forgot it.

This week Ive been away to a Haven caravan park with my wife and kids. Nothing special just a break to get away from it for a bit, the weather was great and the shows were your typical holiday camp show, all fake smiles and Britain's Got Talent rejects. Then it happened, on the Wednesday the over excited entertainment compare, imagine fake tan, fake grin, dead behind the eyes at the monotony of having to say the same thing again and again and you'll get the idea, said the words that struck fear into me.

"Tomorrow night we have the World Famous Jacksonville for you, yes that's right all the way from America its  Michael Jackson's top impersonator"

Que cheers from the slightly tipsy middle aged mums and the kids looking at them saying who?. Me? I tried to hold back the utter despair that was working its way through my system at those words. I knew that I would have to go and watch this as I had bought my kids up listening to his music and they were getting all excited already.

As a veteran of holiday camps I knew what this would mean. It was going to be Barry the barman in an appalling wig and jacket, thrusting his pelvis and grabbing his crotch whilst signing out of tune as the mums got ever more tipsy and the kids danced down the front of the stage. Lets be honest kids on holiday dance to a talking bear and tiger and do as they tell them to do so some bloke pretending to be Michael Jackson would send them over the edge like the sugar full drinks they had been supping all week.

Ive seen it all down the years, the wrestlers who walked out pretending to be big stars who later served your dinner, the magician with the world famous reputation who was later to be seen doing his lifeguard duty, the beauty queen who cleaned your chalet, there is something very British about a Holiday camp and I love every minute of them.

So I took my seat last night, the kids all hyped up after listening to his music all day down at the front of the stage, me trying not to show my utter contempt for the whole thing and playing along as is my duty as their father. The fake tan over excited compare bounded onto the stage microphone stuck to her gloss red lips and smiling only the way a holiday compare can.

"Are you ready for the one, the only Michael Jackson" She yelled punching the air

"Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh" went the cry

"Noooooooooo" My soul screamed quietly inside, my wife taking my hand and squeezing it knowing how personally I was taking this.

The strains of Bad started and the lights dimmed, women fanned themselves overcome with excitement, well cheap wine mostly but Ill give them the benefit of the doubt, the kids looked at each other excitedly and then there he was Barry the Barman, sorry all the way from America Michael Jackson's top impersonator, and I died inside, a huge lump of my childhood was about to be stripped away and I couldn't get it back. He looked nothing like him, in fact the statue at Fulham Football Club looked more like Michael Jackson than he did.

He bounded across the stage flicking his fingers and yelping, grabbing his crotch and signing out of tune, the women went mad for it, the kids danced around in their seats and me? I burst out laughing, I couldn't help it. It was right up there with the 'its so bad its good catergory'. To be fair to him 90% of the ballroom was going nuts and he was lapping it up, the other 10% had tears rolling down their faces at how bad he was.

It lurched from one bad dance routine, one out of tune song to another, getting worse and worse as it did so until the song that topped the lot for me, Thriller. My eldest daughter became very agitated and excited at this, as this was her all time favourite Michael Jackson song.  Smoke billowed across the stage and his 'dancer' well he didn't do anything else apart from prance around the stage all night, pulled on a zombie mask with a Mohican's hair cut on top. By now my sides were starting to hurt, my jaw ached and my eyes were stung with tears. Smoke billowed across the stage trying to give the affect of a foggy night when joy of joys the fire alarm went off.

I could just about here it at first then all the lights came on and everyone was being evacuated, the true performer that he wasn't though carried on when everyone was walking out the fire exits. I assumed he was used to this reaction, all it needed was three large crosses above his head and it would have been the complete evening. We congregated in the car park laughing and joking at what we had seen with others sat around us. I wandered over to the corner for a ciggie when another door flung open and out he stepped. He had tears in his eyes and his band mates were trying to calm him down. Michael Jackson was devastated at his performance being interrupted and suddenly I felt guilty, very very guilty.

No matter how bad he was, no matter how bad I or others thought he was, this bloke had got up on stage and given it a go and there was I laughing at him. I wandered back to my wife and told her what Id seen and she said I should feel bad, even though he wasn't the real thing what did I expect on a Thursday night in Weymouth. I smiled and hatched a cunning plan, but first I had to go back to the caravan.

When I returned the place was half empty, what had been full of mums and kids dancing wildly before the alarm had gone off was now a selection of people dragged back in by their kids and wife's as the more sensible families made their escape back to the safety of their caravans. The tables around the stage, were sparsely full and there was the wife and kids dancing away at the front, Michael Jackson giving it his all to a now obvious half empty room. I went and sat next to the stage and making sure he could see me I took of my jacket and showed him the t-shirt I was now wearing.

"You ain't Michael Jackson but you ain't that crap either" was written on a white t-shirt with black felt tip pen.

He looked at me for a second then smiled and I knew I had done the right thing. I then carried on the night enjoying the music and remembering the legend and what it went to me as a fan. Whatever the accusations, which I might add were never proven, whatever you thought of him as a man, believe me even I am not sure what I believe even now. Michael Jackson's music has touched us all at some stage or another and that should never be forgotten.

Just don't expect to see him at Weymouth Haven Holiday site and you'll be fine.

Letting Go

My eldest daughter is almost 11 now. Growing up far too fast far my liking. Justin Beiber and talk about boys she likes. I remember her as a baby the first time I saw here, all wrapped up in a white blanket,  white mittens and a white hat, laying in the cot staring up at me with those blue eyes and wondering who the hell I was. The times we would lay cuddling on the settee Bon Jovi playing softly on the CD player and me singing to her making her smile. Her spindly legs as she first tried to walk and her uncle calling her chicken legs a name that still sticks even now.

She has her own ways about her now. A loving child still but who knows what buttons too press and how far to go with them. She starts secondary school in September and she got into the school we wanted her too. She wasn't sure at first but her best friend from school is going there as well so any fears she had soon went away. She has just started to walk to school with her friend, me and my other daughter and son following just far enough behind them to make sure they are okay but not too close to be uncool.

She is great with her sister and her younger brothers, reading to them and playing with them. She has a vivid imagination and always instigates the games that they all play together. Be it hide and seek around the house, which will no doubt involve hiding in cupboards or wardrobes or building houses with the cushions from the settee in the front room. She insists on having picnics every now and then and lays the blanket on the floor in the front room, placing cups and plates for the others, then helping to carry the food as well all sit down on the floor. She can be bossy at times but they listen to her and do as she says, more than they do me the soft touch.

I used to put them all in the bath together, it was easier that way to be honest. She, as the eldest, would insist on washing her brothers hair. They used to sit there and let her do it not making a sound and closing their eyes when she washed the shampoo out of their hair. They would insist on her doing it and not me and would play a game as they did so. They loved it if it was a little cramped, but not so much now as she has started too notice a few changes about herself. The bra's she insists my wife buys her, even though she doesn't need them quite yet. She doesn't share a bath with the other kids anymore, she has become more self conscious around me as well.

The child that used to take her clothes off and run around naked is no longer there anymore. Sticking her bum in the air and wanting me to chase her around the house before her bath, catching her and dropping her into the water as she laughed out loud. Ive known for a while that she was moving away from me and wanting more independence. I deal with it as best I can but what I didn't realise was that she was starting to move away from the others as well.

I take the kids to school three days a week. We don't live far from the school, we are lucky its a good school with a strict but fair headmistress, and we walk there when I take them. The roads are quiet and lined with trees, blossom fills them in the spring, and she say how pretty they are. She would walk with me holding my hand and her brother holding hers, my other daughter on the other side of me holding that hand. We would chat and laugh and talk about school, the things she had learnt, who was talking too who, and what she had eaten for dinner the day before and what she thought would be for dinner today. Then as we got closer she would shout to the others to see who could catch her and they would run the last part to school, and my son and daughter would follow her always a little farther behind.

At the school gate I would get a kiss and off she would go, my other daughter would kiss me as well and I would walk the length of the playground with my son towards where he has too stand in line. Sometimes he makes me follow a path that's etched into the playground, its has markings that tell you that you have to hop this bit, skip the next bit, run after that. I don't mind making myself look a fool, its for him not me.

The other mothers stand there chatting away to each other, others not lifting their heads making sure their children are in the line at the right time, whilst me and my son run around the playground. I notice that the other fathers seem awkward around me and each other. Its as if they feel unsure about doing what I do with my son in the morning. Other children will come over and join us but the parents never do. There is a fence made of pencils that surrounds the entrance. Not real pencils but from wood and standing 6 feet tall. All different colours, reds, yellows, blue, greens and I think back to what it was like before they put this fence there.

The red metal fence that was waist high, with wire mesh linking it all together. I used to stand there watching as the girls went into their classrooms, waving at them until the last minute that they walked through the door. Safe in the knowledge that they would be there, filling their small minds with all the wonders of the things that they would discover that day.

Now as the gates open and the teachers come out, the noise of the bolt that locks the gate scrapping along the ground, my son gets into line and follows the other children single file through the gates to his lessons. I'm one of the lucky ones, I am tall enough to watch him over the tall pencil shaped fence. I watch as he chatters away to his friends and just as he is about to go through the door of his classroom he lifts his head and smiles at me, just to let me know that he is okay.

As I leave to make my way to work I see her, standing there with her prefect badge on taking in the packed lunch trolley and I feel a sense of pride at the child she has become. She doesn't notice me as I stand there for a few seconds watching her doing her job as she calls it and I remember the journey to school this morning and how I finally realised she was going away from not just me but the others as well.

My son saw her leave the house with her friend this morning and he chased after her, they saw him and they started to run. Try as hard as he could he couldn't keep up with them and it broke my heart. To see him want nothing more than to be with his sister and her running away from him. Not in a malicious way, she was with her friend and that was fine, but too see him, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep up with them. He stood and watched as they crossed the road leaving him behind on the pavement waiting for me and my daughter too catch him up. Desperate too get across and see if he could catch them, but he couldn't they were too far in front.  He cried at first, not understanding why she didn't want to walk with him as she does every other day. I knelt down, wiped the tears from his face, kissed his cheek and told him that one day he would be able to do the same as she was.

To be trusted enough to make his own way in life but know that whenever he needed me I would be here. To know that even though she was running away from him she wasn't doing it because she didn't like him, but because she was growing up and needed to have a little bit more freedom than she has now. To be allowed to play with her friends and not depend on playing with us all the time. At least I think I was telling him that, perhaps I was telling myslef the same thing as well.

Thats What Friends Are For.

Ive been reading a few different blogs recently, mainly to get some ideas and mainly because I love reading other peoples thoughts. A good one is 'The Musings Of A Wannabe Star' By a young girl called Jessi Haish www.jhaish.blogspot.com. She is from a small town in America and she pours her heart on her blog. We have been chatting lately about this and that and I suddenly realised something.

Isn't it easier to write down what you feel rather than say it face to face?. Ive written some very personal stuff on my blog, Ive also ranted and raved as well, but mainly I haven't said much of this to people face to face. I just find it easier to write because I don't have to look in their eyes for a reaction. If they don't like it they probably wont say, yet if I say it to their face I will get a reaction. Is that cowardly? I'm not sure to be honest.

The other thing Ive noticed as well is the amount of people on blogs that leave nasty comments that are anonymous. Do I blame them for this? A little yes because its not as if I know you is it?. They can however hide behind this as a way of protecting themselves cant they?. That I guess is what we are all trying to do isn't? Protect ourselves from things that may hurt us. Things that we don't like or want to hear.

There are people out there that say they don't care what other people say or think about them. That may be true for 10% of them but I bet the other 90% deep down do care don't they?. The worst part of my job is giving people negative feedback. Its part of my job, I don't enjoy but it has to be done sometimes. It all depends on the way you deliver it though. Ive heard of the shit sandwich (good news, bad news, good news) it doesn't work. I would rather be told straight and then I can deal with it and that way I can get better at it. This is what I do with the people I work with. They may not want to hear it but its the way they react to it that makes them better at what they do isn't it?.

This year will be tough for a lot of people, no doubt about that. The way you get through it though will depend on your attitude towards what you face. Me? Oh I always have a day or so of why me? Then I pick myself up and try and change the situation for the better. People can be nasty and saw awful things but the trick is to keep those that matter to you as close as possible and cherish them. To lean on them for support when I or you need it, to listen to the words of wisdom they befall on you and I when we cant see an end to the pain, but most of all to be there, just be there whenever we need it the most.

That is what friendship is all about.

New Year Resolutions

Why? Come on someone must know surely? Why do we every year make promises that we know full well we aren't going to keep? We all do it don't we, the diet, the fags, the drink, the job, we all agree that we are going to do things differently in the coming year. How long do they last for, a day, a week? No longer than that I bet. Well this year is going to be different so here are my New Year resolutions and this time I'm sticking to them.

Number 5: Give Up Smoking

If I'm honest I don't enjoy it. They make me feel bad and make my asthma bad. Oh shock horror an asthmatic that smokes. Yes I do. Am I proud of it? No not really. You see I have this thing about me. I start with all good intentions and then after a few days I fall from it very hard. I smoke through addiction and habit. Nothing more. Its my one vice that I have half tried to give up many times and have failed. This time though I will succeed. How? Well this time I actually want to and that my friends is the difference for me. I actually want to do it. This time I will succeed.

Number 4: Pay Off My Debt

I don't have a lot of debt if I'm honest. I have a bit but nothing that I cant handle. However I want it gone as I'm sick of paying things off I bought months ago. I'm lucky in that my house is worth 3 times what I paid for it and its due for a remortgage in the early part of the year. However before that though I will try and get as many bonuses before then so as I don't have to put so much onto my mortgage. This time though as I get older I don't covert things like I used to do. There is nothing I actually want anymore. There are things I would like but wanting them, well I manage to talk myself out of them now. I must be getting old.

Number 3: Become A Better Writer

Wow this one is going to be difficult. There is a huge amount of snobbery about writers. Those that have stuff published look down upon those that haven't been. I didn't realise it was this bad until I started to do this blog. There are people that will batter you for a misplaced word or poor grammar. They wont offer you a way of changing it to make it better they will just criticise you for the way you wrote it. If, and its a big if, I manage to have any success in future years I promise here and now that I will help aspiring writers to improve their work. I'm sure there are people out there that will do this, I just haven't found them yet.

Number 2: Get My Book Published

This could take three months or three years. I loved writing Sammy The Elf and I will work for as long as it takes to make it better so it can be published. That's my aim for this year. So if you are a published writer reading Number 2 and you want to offer some very sought after and kind advice I will gladly accept it. I will do what ever it takes to get this published I believe in it that much. Its a dream of mine that I can earn my salary I get now by writing. This would mean no more tube journeys, no more ignorant people and I could spend all my days doing what I really want to do which is write. A long journey lays ahead, I know that but its one I want to partake in and enjoy where ever it takes me.

Number 1: Lose Weight

I went to the doctors with a chest infection and came out with a death sentence. This was 4 days before Christmas. I reckon its because her online order wasn't going to arrive and she took it out on me. Anyway, if I'm honest my weight has been an issue I have ignored for a number of years. Through embarrassment and laziness I have done nothing about it. I promise myself I'm going to but I never do. Except this year something has clicked in my head and I realise that I cant carry this spare change around with me anymore. Its not about losing weight its about a change of lifestyle. A chance to prolong my life and do some of the things that I haven't done down the years because if my weight. Driving for one thing. I never wanted to drive because I was worried about my weight. Stupid isn't it when you see some of the people that get out of cars. I can no longer pretend that when I look in the mirror I am a slim person. I'm not and I have to accept that. So how am I going to do this weight loss then? I'm going to blog about it. Yep you will all have the chance to laugh with me as I battle the bugle. It starts next week so look out for it.

So there we are then 5 New Year resolutions. Will I keep them? Yes says the optimist in me. Two of them are for health reasons so they have to be done. One is for my peace of mind so that's got to be a good thing. The other two? Well they will accomplish a dream of mine that I have long held. I didn't think it would be possible when I started this blog back in May. Ive been proved wrong so far. It cant hurt to dream a little can it?

New Year, New Blog

Regular readers of my blog (thanks mum) will know that every now and then I like to change whats going on, on here. I like to have a couple of themes that run for a few months whilst throwing in a few random blogs of my own. The coming months will be no different and Ive made those changes already and am now able to tell you about what they are and what you can look forward to over the next few months. As we head into a New Year its time for a new blog.

The Guest Blogger

The beauty of Facebook is that I got in touch with a few old school friends that I hadn't seen or spoken to for many years. One of these was Marc Tierman. He is the most opinionated man I have ever met. He sticks to his principals and he can upset people but he just doesn't care. He will moan about the slightest thing and most of the time I'm nodding away agreeing with him. So I asked him a few months ago if he wanted to do a weekly blog on here and he agreed. Ive told him no swearing but he can write about anything he likes. He will be controversial and he will upset people, but he will also get you arguing and entering into a debate. It will also take some pressure off me as well to keep the content flowing as well. So look out for his first post on here very soon. I'm glad hes agreed and look forward to seeing your reactions. I will still contribute as this will only be for one day a week, just like Sammy or the Big Interviews were so don't worry Ill be around, you haven't got rid of me quite yet.

The Battle Of The Belly

Well I need motivation to lose weight apart from the fact I may die. The doctors words not me. So I'm going to blog about it. Every week I will tell you how much weight I have lost and how I did it. The pain the tears, the joy, I think? Not sure about that last one but hey. This will replace Sammy The Elf on Fridays and the first one will be next week. Now here is where you come in. I want you to sponsor me but with a difference. I don't want your money, I want your pledges. I want to raise as much money as I can for Great Ormond Street Hospital and Help For Heroes. Two charities that are very special to my beliefs and hopes. Here is where you come in. I will tell you how much I weigh next Friday and then I want you to pledge money for every pound, half stone or stone that I lose. I then want you to get your friends involved as well. When I hit my target you then send the money you pledged to either of these charities. You don't send it to me it goes to them. We then do a running monthly total of how much we have earned.; Sound okay? I hope so as I need your guys help and encouragement to pull this off and raise some money for two truly worthwhile causes.

So there you go then two new articles staring next week on this blog. I hope you enjoy them both and continue to let me know what you think. Thanks for the support and advice this past year so lets make sure it continues into the New Year.

Happy New Year

Anthony