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.
Showing posts with label My Most Personnal Blogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Most Personnal Blogs. Show all posts
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
Thursday, 13 September 2012
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
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
Thursday, 23 February 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Oi Fatty!!
What do you think when you see someone who is overweight? Do you think what a fat git? Do you think glad thats not me? Or do you think I wonder how that happened? If you're honest I bet most of us think what a fat git right? Is that assumption fair though? I read an article yesterday by a journalist on Fleet Street who in my view decided to absolutley destroy someone who is overweight because she needs care. I dont know this persons history or the reason for their weight gain but its important to remeber that I guarantee that this journalist doesn't either. Yet they took the moral high ground and destroyed this person to the readers of their blog. It was bordering on bullying and it really annoyed me, hence this blog.
There are reasons people are obese. Its rammed down thier throats every single day about how gorgeous this product tastes and how they will be cool and happy if they eat it. We bang on about how schools are losing thier fields and how kids dont do enough exercise yet we allow Macdonalds to sponsor kids football in this country. We encourage kids to get their parents to go to certain supermarkets to purchase goods for vouchers, yet these same supermarkest place chocolate in front of the tills and make queing times longer than they should be so as kids will pick up the chocolate.
We allow Fast Food chains to run promotions that allow kids to eat free there when an adult buys a meal and then reward them with free ice cream and a toy. We allow Cereal compaines to cover our kids breakfasts in chocolate knowing that its marketed as the most important meal of the day. We allow our kids to buy soft drinks full of sugar because they are giving away free music or an ipod on the can.
Yet we still wonder why we have an obesity problem in this country? Its there in front of your eyes. We are all different, we all have different will powers and weaknesses. We all have different metabolism as well. My brother in law can eat three Big Macs and has never gained an ounce, I look at one and I gain four pounds. Its what makes us all different. There are a few reasons why people are obese in my opinion and they are as follows:
Firstly through bad eating habits and laziness with regards to exercise. These people can only help themsleves and until they choose to do so then there isn't a lot that can be done for them. I put them in the same bracket as Smokers. They know what they are putting into their bodies will kill them and eventually they will die. Its thier choice.
Secondly you have kids who are overwieght, these are fed fatty foods by thier parents and its mainly because their parents know no better that they end up obese. Is it fair to blame the kids? No you blame the parents but you educate them and help them to lose weight and this way they start to see a change in their well being.
Finally you have the less obvious group. These people eat because they have low self esteem, are unhappy or are being bullied in some way. The thing that binds them all together is that they eat because they get comfort from it.
They get a sugar rush that makes them feel better about themselves for a while, they are trying to change the way they look so perhaps the bully will not pick them out from the crowd. They carry scars inside of them that cant be healed because they wont let someone in to help them heel it, so they carry on eating, getting bigger and bigger.
They eat more and more of the wrong foods, the foods the advertisers tell them to eat to be cool and sexy, telling themselevs that they dont care what they look like but secretly falling deeper and deeper into a depression that only gets worse the more they eat. They see the looks of disgust from people in the street and they feel ashamed but they bury it deeper because they know when they eat that next cake, that next burger, that next chocolate bar the rush they get off of it will make them feel better. Except they dont, not really, becuase that feeling fades away and the pain returns harder and deeper than it did before.
They become the happy go lucky funny person. Always seeming to be cheerful and laughing and joking yet inside no one seems to care enough to ask them how they feel. They play along with the way their friends see them because its easier that way. Its easier to be the person they have become rather than be the person they want to be.
Next time you see someone who is overweight don't judge them because you don't know them. We all have our issues, some carry them with the help of drink, others with drugs, obese people do it with food. The first group can only help themsleves but wont, the second group need educating. The third group? Well they need your love and support. They may stumble they may fall but THEY WILL thank you in the end you just need to be patient with them.
There are reasons they are overwieght, deep underlying reasons why they have allowed themselves to become what they have and they and only they can change that. You can offer them support and be friendly to them but you must not judge them because it isnt your place to do so.
How do I know so much about the third group of people? Because I was one of them.
I now have a facebook page called A Teller Of Tales. I'll be adding some exclusive content on their as well so please feel free to like the page, thanks in advance.
There are reasons people are obese. Its rammed down thier throats every single day about how gorgeous this product tastes and how they will be cool and happy if they eat it. We bang on about how schools are losing thier fields and how kids dont do enough exercise yet we allow Macdonalds to sponsor kids football in this country. We encourage kids to get their parents to go to certain supermarkets to purchase goods for vouchers, yet these same supermarkest place chocolate in front of the tills and make queing times longer than they should be so as kids will pick up the chocolate.
We allow Fast Food chains to run promotions that allow kids to eat free there when an adult buys a meal and then reward them with free ice cream and a toy. We allow Cereal compaines to cover our kids breakfasts in chocolate knowing that its marketed as the most important meal of the day. We allow our kids to buy soft drinks full of sugar because they are giving away free music or an ipod on the can.
Yet we still wonder why we have an obesity problem in this country? Its there in front of your eyes. We are all different, we all have different will powers and weaknesses. We all have different metabolism as well. My brother in law can eat three Big Macs and has never gained an ounce, I look at one and I gain four pounds. Its what makes us all different. There are a few reasons why people are obese in my opinion and they are as follows:
Firstly through bad eating habits and laziness with regards to exercise. These people can only help themsleves and until they choose to do so then there isn't a lot that can be done for them. I put them in the same bracket as Smokers. They know what they are putting into their bodies will kill them and eventually they will die. Its thier choice.
Secondly you have kids who are overwieght, these are fed fatty foods by thier parents and its mainly because their parents know no better that they end up obese. Is it fair to blame the kids? No you blame the parents but you educate them and help them to lose weight and this way they start to see a change in their well being.
Finally you have the less obvious group. These people eat because they have low self esteem, are unhappy or are being bullied in some way. The thing that binds them all together is that they eat because they get comfort from it.
They get a sugar rush that makes them feel better about themselves for a while, they are trying to change the way they look so perhaps the bully will not pick them out from the crowd. They carry scars inside of them that cant be healed because they wont let someone in to help them heel it, so they carry on eating, getting bigger and bigger.
They eat more and more of the wrong foods, the foods the advertisers tell them to eat to be cool and sexy, telling themselevs that they dont care what they look like but secretly falling deeper and deeper into a depression that only gets worse the more they eat. They see the looks of disgust from people in the street and they feel ashamed but they bury it deeper because they know when they eat that next cake, that next burger, that next chocolate bar the rush they get off of it will make them feel better. Except they dont, not really, becuase that feeling fades away and the pain returns harder and deeper than it did before.
They become the happy go lucky funny person. Always seeming to be cheerful and laughing and joking yet inside no one seems to care enough to ask them how they feel. They play along with the way their friends see them because its easier that way. Its easier to be the person they have become rather than be the person they want to be.
Next time you see someone who is overweight don't judge them because you don't know them. We all have our issues, some carry them with the help of drink, others with drugs, obese people do it with food. The first group can only help themsleves but wont, the second group need educating. The third group? Well they need your love and support. They may stumble they may fall but THEY WILL thank you in the end you just need to be patient with them.
There are reasons they are overwieght, deep underlying reasons why they have allowed themselves to become what they have and they and only they can change that. You can offer them support and be friendly to them but you must not judge them because it isnt your place to do so.
How do I know so much about the third group of people? Because I was one of them.
I now have a facebook page called A Teller Of Tales. I'll be adding some exclusive content on their as well so please feel free to like the page, thanks in advance.
Monday, 6 February 2012
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
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
Thursday, 24 November 2011
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
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
Friday, 2 September 2011
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
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
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
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
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
Thursday, 21 July 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, 10 July 2011
Who I am
Hello, been a while hasn't it?, I'm glad you are still here reading this so I guess I owe you all an explanation really as to where Ive been. I love writing, I love this blog, I'm very humbled by the fact that people have took the time to let me know they follow it and that they read what I have to say, for that I thank you.
Over the past few months I slowly started to fall out of love with writing, it didn't happen over night, it gradually crept up on me over a period of time. At first it was the lack of ideas, then it was starting a post and not finishing it, something I have never done before. I wasn't sure what the problem was, whether it was pressure from work, or perhaps a case of writers block, something I have been lucky enough not to suffer with.
A few weeks ago I posted something on my Facebook page, an argument between 'friends' erupted and one of those 'friends' blocked me and unfriended me. This person has voiced strong opinions on things I had written in the past and I would always apologise for it. Except this time I didn't, I felt a sense of relief that they had taken the step to break the link between us.
At first I was little upset about it if I'm honest, Id met this person a few times, and so I sent them a message once again apologising to them if I had upset them. It wasn't until the next day, and no response I might add, that it dawned on me why I had stopped blogging. I had become something I wasn't and never wanted to be, I had become so caught up in what other people thought of me and what I wrote or said that I was in fact becoming submissive to what they thought I should be like.
I wasn't being 'me' anymore, I was writing the way people thought I should write, I was writing about things that they thought I should write about, I didn't start this blog to write for other people, I started this blog to write for me and I had got caught up in pleasing other people and had lost the total enjoyment in what I did. The blogs had become fewer and fewer, the content had changed, I wasn't speaking my mind on what really mattered to me anymore. I was so busy trying not to upset people that in the course of doing that I had changed from a confident person into someone who always sought approval of others, my cyber friends.
There are some great bloggers out there, people I really respect, their blogs are listed on the right hand side of my blog and I encourage you to read them. I'm not that talented a writer if I'm honest, hell I'm not even the most talented writer in my family ( my dads a published author), but what I am is an honest writer. I pour my heart into what I do and over the last few months I wasn't that writer anymore, I knew something was wrong I just couldn't see it.
One of my favourite bloggers gave me some advice when I said I was going to stop blogging and I would like to thank him for that. He told me to take a break and think about what I wanted to write, to really think about it for the first time. 'Make sure you don't delete the blog, you will regret it if you do'. There were so many times my finger hovered over the delete button and yet I couldn't do it, so thank you Mr London Street for some very kind and generous advice.
So to all those people who I may have offend with my arrogant attitude over the past 6 months, to all those people who I befriend and perhaps haven't taken the care to make sure we talk as much as we should do, I apologise and hope you can forgive me. I know now that what I was becoming was an arsehole, trying to please people who didn't matter to me and looking down on you as if I was better than you, because I got more views and comments on my work than you did. I thought I was going about it the right way, I thought I was doing it the right way, that I was attracting people who were more important than the people that took the time to visit my blog at the very beginning. The advice I was taking was the wrong advice and it took someone blocking me to make me wake up and realise that they aren't important anymore.
I am 38 years of age, a father of 4, a husband, a Dagenham and Redridge supporter, and finally after all these years comfortable with who I am. Comfortable enough within my own skin to know that trying to be someone you are not only upsets you, that its okay to voice an opinion and if they value what you have written they will engage in adult conversation and you can come out the other-side (Yes Philip I mean you, thank you I mean it).
Comfortable enough to know that the people that really matter are the people that perhaps you haven't seen for years, family and friends, work colleagues who give you the benefit of the doubt when your being an arsehole, or people you've never met, but who take time out of their day to give you advice, to talk to you, that expect nothing more from you than the person that you actually are. Most importantly though I am a writer, there I said it, I write because I want to, I write about what I want to write about, that someday you may stumble across my blog and either follow me, or even one day leave a comment, to you I say Hi, lets have some fun. Mostly though I've come out of this a better person and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Thank You
Anthony
Over the past few months I slowly started to fall out of love with writing, it didn't happen over night, it gradually crept up on me over a period of time. At first it was the lack of ideas, then it was starting a post and not finishing it, something I have never done before. I wasn't sure what the problem was, whether it was pressure from work, or perhaps a case of writers block, something I have been lucky enough not to suffer with.
A few weeks ago I posted something on my Facebook page, an argument between 'friends' erupted and one of those 'friends' blocked me and unfriended me. This person has voiced strong opinions on things I had written in the past and I would always apologise for it. Except this time I didn't, I felt a sense of relief that they had taken the step to break the link between us.
At first I was little upset about it if I'm honest, Id met this person a few times, and so I sent them a message once again apologising to them if I had upset them. It wasn't until the next day, and no response I might add, that it dawned on me why I had stopped blogging. I had become something I wasn't and never wanted to be, I had become so caught up in what other people thought of me and what I wrote or said that I was in fact becoming submissive to what they thought I should be like.
I wasn't being 'me' anymore, I was writing the way people thought I should write, I was writing about things that they thought I should write about, I didn't start this blog to write for other people, I started this blog to write for me and I had got caught up in pleasing other people and had lost the total enjoyment in what I did. The blogs had become fewer and fewer, the content had changed, I wasn't speaking my mind on what really mattered to me anymore. I was so busy trying not to upset people that in the course of doing that I had changed from a confident person into someone who always sought approval of others, my cyber friends.
There are some great bloggers out there, people I really respect, their blogs are listed on the right hand side of my blog and I encourage you to read them. I'm not that talented a writer if I'm honest, hell I'm not even the most talented writer in my family ( my dads a published author), but what I am is an honest writer. I pour my heart into what I do and over the last few months I wasn't that writer anymore, I knew something was wrong I just couldn't see it.
One of my favourite bloggers gave me some advice when I said I was going to stop blogging and I would like to thank him for that. He told me to take a break and think about what I wanted to write, to really think about it for the first time. 'Make sure you don't delete the blog, you will regret it if you do'. There were so many times my finger hovered over the delete button and yet I couldn't do it, so thank you Mr London Street for some very kind and generous advice.
So to all those people who I may have offend with my arrogant attitude over the past 6 months, to all those people who I befriend and perhaps haven't taken the care to make sure we talk as much as we should do, I apologise and hope you can forgive me. I know now that what I was becoming was an arsehole, trying to please people who didn't matter to me and looking down on you as if I was better than you, because I got more views and comments on my work than you did. I thought I was going about it the right way, I thought I was doing it the right way, that I was attracting people who were more important than the people that took the time to visit my blog at the very beginning. The advice I was taking was the wrong advice and it took someone blocking me to make me wake up and realise that they aren't important anymore.
I am 38 years of age, a father of 4, a husband, a Dagenham and Redridge supporter, and finally after all these years comfortable with who I am. Comfortable enough within my own skin to know that trying to be someone you are not only upsets you, that its okay to voice an opinion and if they value what you have written they will engage in adult conversation and you can come out the other-side (Yes Philip I mean you, thank you I mean it).
Comfortable enough to know that the people that really matter are the people that perhaps you haven't seen for years, family and friends, work colleagues who give you the benefit of the doubt when your being an arsehole, or people you've never met, but who take time out of their day to give you advice, to talk to you, that expect nothing more from you than the person that you actually are. Most importantly though I am a writer, there I said it, I write because I want to, I write about what I want to write about, that someday you may stumble across my blog and either follow me, or even one day leave a comment, to you I say Hi, lets have some fun. Mostly though I've come out of this a better person and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Thank You
Anthony
Sunday, 5 June 2011
The Two Day Meeting
There are 42 people crammed into a room. The tables are adorned with bottles of water, some glasses half full others empty. Notepads spread across the table with the name of the hotel embezzled across them, some have notes written on them, some are blank, others like mine have doodles on them. The chairs are placed neatly around the tables and my peers are in attendance.
Some of us are listening intently to the speaker, some are trying not to fall asleep, I am quietly arguing with Khurram about who is going to get the last sherbet dip that has been left on the table to give us a sugar rush to help us concentrate. Out of the 42 people in this room I like 8 of them, the others I tolerate because I have to. I see them once every two months at the two day meetings we have and to be honest that's enough.
Its not that they have done anything to annoy me or they have done anything to make me like them either further than a cordial hello, as in most places where I have worked in the past there is an air of indifference between us. We have nothing in common apart from the fact that we all work for the same company. We share stories about staff, the good and the bad ones, as we drink the luke warm tea and coffee in our breaks, knowing that we will not talk until the next time we are all summoned to the next two day meeting.
We are brought together because we have to be here, we are all different ages with different goals in life, some of them want to be the next Area manager, others are clinging to their jobs for dear life, the pressure of an under performing team makes them withdraw into themselves and they cluster together with people in similar predicaments. I watch them thankful for the team I have making sure I am not in their shoes.
The meeting ends for the day and plans are made to socialise that evening, this is something I dread. Most of them are young and want to spend the night drinking, Ive been there before and make sure that I am not the one who will have too much to drink and say or do something that I will regret in the morning. Khurram also doesn't intend to spend the night getting drunk so he and Abu decide to go for a walk and ask me to go with them. Grateful for the invitation I accept and happily tag along.
We wander towards the Trocadero in central London, the evening is warm as we talk about the events of the day and share gossip about people that we know. The streets are bustling with tourists, black cabs dart in and out of the traffic rushing to get the occupants to their destination in the shortest time possible. We wander through Soho, stopped a few times by women hanging out of doorways asking us if we want to go inside. We laugh amongst ourselves knowing that our wife's would kill us if we did. We pass the theatres, I point out Jersey Boys and comment how much I liked it, the streets are now narrower and filled with tourists wandering around taking pictures of each other for their albums when they get home.
We reach the Trocadero and are disappointed to find it not as we remembered it as kids full of arcade machines, there are some, racing machines linked together inviting us to sit and play them, flashing lights and noise surrounding us, but now its only on one floor not full like it was many years ago. We are eyed suspiciously by the bouncers in their black t-shirts watching us as if to say to what are you doing here?. Almost middle aged men, feeling out of place we leave and make our way back to the hotel. Khurram asks us to slow down as we are walking too quickly for him and we happily oblige.
It isn't because he is unfit, its because he has just returned to work after an event that would have changed my life forever and I quietly think to myself how happy I am that he is still here. On his way home a few months ago he was mugged and stabbed three times for his mobile phone. A senseless attack that will probably never be solved. He is in a lot of pain and still on pain killers.
He is my mentor, the person who trained me for the job when I first started with the company, a colleague who became a friend, someone who is always there at the end of phone when I need advice. Its perhaps selfish of me to be so grateful that he is here with me at this meeting, making wise cracks about the people around us and sharing in private jokes. He is a father, a husband and a friend, I nearly lost that friendship but more importantly his family nearly lost him.
He takes it in good spirit when ever anyone asks him what happened and I joke that he is telling the story once again. I cant imagine what it felt like when it happened and I hope I never do. If anything it has taught me one thing, I have realized how life is too short to not chase a dream, that in an instant it can be all taken away. Through what happened to him I will now work harder to pursue my dream. My guilt at using what happened to him to drive my own dream onwards is something I will have to carry, but I know he wont mind, hes that kind of person. A mentor, a colleague but more importantly a friend.
Some of us are listening intently to the speaker, some are trying not to fall asleep, I am quietly arguing with Khurram about who is going to get the last sherbet dip that has been left on the table to give us a sugar rush to help us concentrate. Out of the 42 people in this room I like 8 of them, the others I tolerate because I have to. I see them once every two months at the two day meetings we have and to be honest that's enough.
Its not that they have done anything to annoy me or they have done anything to make me like them either further than a cordial hello, as in most places where I have worked in the past there is an air of indifference between us. We have nothing in common apart from the fact that we all work for the same company. We share stories about staff, the good and the bad ones, as we drink the luke warm tea and coffee in our breaks, knowing that we will not talk until the next time we are all summoned to the next two day meeting.
We are brought together because we have to be here, we are all different ages with different goals in life, some of them want to be the next Area manager, others are clinging to their jobs for dear life, the pressure of an under performing team makes them withdraw into themselves and they cluster together with people in similar predicaments. I watch them thankful for the team I have making sure I am not in their shoes.
The meeting ends for the day and plans are made to socialise that evening, this is something I dread. Most of them are young and want to spend the night drinking, Ive been there before and make sure that I am not the one who will have too much to drink and say or do something that I will regret in the morning. Khurram also doesn't intend to spend the night getting drunk so he and Abu decide to go for a walk and ask me to go with them. Grateful for the invitation I accept and happily tag along.
We wander towards the Trocadero in central London, the evening is warm as we talk about the events of the day and share gossip about people that we know. The streets are bustling with tourists, black cabs dart in and out of the traffic rushing to get the occupants to their destination in the shortest time possible. We wander through Soho, stopped a few times by women hanging out of doorways asking us if we want to go inside. We laugh amongst ourselves knowing that our wife's would kill us if we did. We pass the theatres, I point out Jersey Boys and comment how much I liked it, the streets are now narrower and filled with tourists wandering around taking pictures of each other for their albums when they get home.
We reach the Trocadero and are disappointed to find it not as we remembered it as kids full of arcade machines, there are some, racing machines linked together inviting us to sit and play them, flashing lights and noise surrounding us, but now its only on one floor not full like it was many years ago. We are eyed suspiciously by the bouncers in their black t-shirts watching us as if to say to what are you doing here?. Almost middle aged men, feeling out of place we leave and make our way back to the hotel. Khurram asks us to slow down as we are walking too quickly for him and we happily oblige.
It isn't because he is unfit, its because he has just returned to work after an event that would have changed my life forever and I quietly think to myself how happy I am that he is still here. On his way home a few months ago he was mugged and stabbed three times for his mobile phone. A senseless attack that will probably never be solved. He is in a lot of pain and still on pain killers.
He is my mentor, the person who trained me for the job when I first started with the company, a colleague who became a friend, someone who is always there at the end of phone when I need advice. Its perhaps selfish of me to be so grateful that he is here with me at this meeting, making wise cracks about the people around us and sharing in private jokes. He is a father, a husband and a friend, I nearly lost that friendship but more importantly his family nearly lost him.
He takes it in good spirit when ever anyone asks him what happened and I joke that he is telling the story once again. I cant imagine what it felt like when it happened and I hope I never do. If anything it has taught me one thing, I have realized how life is too short to not chase a dream, that in an instant it can be all taken away. Through what happened to him I will now work harder to pursue my dream. My guilt at using what happened to him to drive my own dream onwards is something I will have to carry, but I know he wont mind, hes that kind of person. A mentor, a colleague but more importantly a friend.
Friday, 8 April 2011
My Carrier Bag
I have always collected things, comics, books, Cd's, DVDs, baseball caps, concert tickets, football programmes, the cupboards in my house are filled with them. It drives my wife nuts most of the time and she keeps telling me to throw them away but I just cant. Each one of them holds a memory of the time I bought them.
The moment and mood I was in can be instantly recaptured for example the moment I listen to a piece of music or flick through a programme. I can remember being there and what the atmosphere felt like, whether it was a good or bad day, unleashing memories that I have kept locked up in side my head. Most of the the time they make me smile and I cherish them, other times perhaps not so much, but they are memories all the same.
I have a carrier bag, its nothing special to be honest it was given to me by one of the main supermarket chains and I'm very fond of it. Ive had it for nearly two years now and I use it every day for the journey too and from work. Ive tried satchels and briefcases but they just aren't for me, I don't like the bulkiness of them to be honest and I feel a fraud when I get to where I'm going and open them and remove my lunch box as its the only item in there.
My carrier bag has a true legend status in my job, when ever I have a meeting other managers ask if I have it and I smile and show them as they poke fun at me about it. At times they have offered to get me a new one and I always decline, attached as I am to this bag of mine. People don't often mention my name now when they see me at work, they ask to see the bag first and then ask how I am, their laughter sometimes hurting but to me its more than an old carrier bag.
It carries my hopes and dreams in it, a pen a notepad and whatever book I am reading at the time. It was there when I first decided to start this blog, it is there when I need to quickly jot an idea down for a short story and it carries the keys to the place I am at most happiest, the keys to my home.
So you see its more than just a carrier bag from a big supermarket chain, its a keeper of hopes and of dreams, a place that I know whenever I need something it will be in there, it doesn't poke fun at me when it sees me it just lies there almost expectant at what dreams and hopes it may carry in the day ahead. It is after all a carrier bag but a very special one that has been on this journey with me and I hope will continue to do so for many years to come, wherever that may lead or end. A new one wouldn't quite be the same.
The moment and mood I was in can be instantly recaptured for example the moment I listen to a piece of music or flick through a programme. I can remember being there and what the atmosphere felt like, whether it was a good or bad day, unleashing memories that I have kept locked up in side my head. Most of the the time they make me smile and I cherish them, other times perhaps not so much, but they are memories all the same.
I have a carrier bag, its nothing special to be honest it was given to me by one of the main supermarket chains and I'm very fond of it. Ive had it for nearly two years now and I use it every day for the journey too and from work. Ive tried satchels and briefcases but they just aren't for me, I don't like the bulkiness of them to be honest and I feel a fraud when I get to where I'm going and open them and remove my lunch box as its the only item in there.
My carrier bag has a true legend status in my job, when ever I have a meeting other managers ask if I have it and I smile and show them as they poke fun at me about it. At times they have offered to get me a new one and I always decline, attached as I am to this bag of mine. People don't often mention my name now when they see me at work, they ask to see the bag first and then ask how I am, their laughter sometimes hurting but to me its more than an old carrier bag.
It carries my hopes and dreams in it, a pen a notepad and whatever book I am reading at the time. It was there when I first decided to start this blog, it is there when I need to quickly jot an idea down for a short story and it carries the keys to the place I am at most happiest, the keys to my home.
So you see its more than just a carrier bag from a big supermarket chain, its a keeper of hopes and of dreams, a place that I know whenever I need something it will be in there, it doesn't poke fun at me when it sees me it just lies there almost expectant at what dreams and hopes it may carry in the day ahead. It is after all a carrier bag but a very special one that has been on this journey with me and I hope will continue to do so for many years to come, wherever that may lead or end. A new one wouldn't quite be the same.
Sunday, 3 April 2011
An Open Letter To My Mum
Well its that time of year again ma, not its not my birthday or yours (it isn't is it? Just thought Id check) good then it must be Mothers Day. Looking back through my blogs over what has been nearly a years worth now of ranting, reminiscing, writing short stories and open letters, I realised one thing. I have written open letters to Laura, Sarah, Paul and Dad but I haven't ever written anything for you. I'm sorry, I guess I was waiting for the right time to do it but never found it, so to put that right today on Mothers Day this is for you, I hope you like it. Oh and make sure you have some tissues ready wont you? Haven't got any? Okay Ill wait why you go and get them..........yes over there by the telly as always...................got them?..........Okay then I shall begin.
My earliest memory of you is you picking me up from Nursery one afternoon. Do you remember it? It was the church hall opposite where your friend used to live. It had white painted walls and a gravel driveway and was part of a church. Down the side of it was the chapel and I used too stand there looking through the glass, wondering what went on in there.
I remember one occasion standing at the back of the hall, the easel next to me with its clean white crisp paper untouched, covered in paint and the woman explaining to you that I had got bored with painting the paper and decided too paint myself. You didn't get angry you just took me home too clean me up, made me a sandwich put on Trumpton and never said a word. That was and still is how you are, you know when to say something and when not too, but you also look a little awkward if what you are about too say is difficult for that person too hear, something I do just like you.
I never remember you getting angry with me that often as a child, even when I managed to get my finger caught in the lock on the freezer in the butchers when you and him had told me not too touch it I still did, screaming with pain and shock at the realisation that my finger was wedged tight. Do you remember my first day at school? Sitting in Mr Ken Aston's office at Newbury Park? You know the bloke who invented the Red and Yellow card for football? No that's right you didn't recognise him did you, and when he asked me what my favourite sport was you told him horse racing and I loved Red Rum. Mum I was 5 and he must have thought I was the youngest gambler he had ever met. That still makes me laugh even now.
I have great memories of growing up us a child and that's all down to you and Dad, but this one isn't about Dad its about you and me. I'm like you in so many ways, I have blond hair and blue eyes like you, where as Nicky has brown hair and brown eyes like Dad. I'm sensitive like you, I take things far too personally but I'm also stronger than you think I am, even though I don't always show it in the right way. I get that from you as well, that inner belief that what I'm doing is right even when others don't agree or see it.
I wasn't the easiest teenager growing up, I know that and I'm sorry for all the pain and hurt I caused even if I'm only saying it now. You are still the person I talk too first if I have an issue or a problem and you always give me the right advice even if its not what I want too hear at the time. I watch you with my kids and see the joy that they get from being around you, the sweets you fill them up with, the secret shopping trips for the girls and I'm proud to call you my Mum.
I tease you about the cards that you buy and the sentimental writing that is inside them, checking too see if there are any tears from you as you have written your message. You've said a few times you have cried in the shop when you have bought them but I wouldn't have it any other way. I know when you read this you will cry, as you always do when people say nice things about and to you.
Mum I love you, I always will, you are a special person not only to me but the friends and family you surround yourself with. I hope Ive made you proud of the father I have become, a little bit of Dad but mostly you, so take your time reading this, shed a little tear as I know you will and remember all that I am and what I have become is because I had the best Dad and more importantly the best Mum anyone was ever lucky enough too have. I haven't turned out too bad have I? Enjoy your day Mum I cant think of anyone who deserves it more.
Love Your Son
x
My earliest memory of you is you picking me up from Nursery one afternoon. Do you remember it? It was the church hall opposite where your friend used to live. It had white painted walls and a gravel driveway and was part of a church. Down the side of it was the chapel and I used too stand there looking through the glass, wondering what went on in there.
I remember one occasion standing at the back of the hall, the easel next to me with its clean white crisp paper untouched, covered in paint and the woman explaining to you that I had got bored with painting the paper and decided too paint myself. You didn't get angry you just took me home too clean me up, made me a sandwich put on Trumpton and never said a word. That was and still is how you are, you know when to say something and when not too, but you also look a little awkward if what you are about too say is difficult for that person too hear, something I do just like you.
I never remember you getting angry with me that often as a child, even when I managed to get my finger caught in the lock on the freezer in the butchers when you and him had told me not too touch it I still did, screaming with pain and shock at the realisation that my finger was wedged tight. Do you remember my first day at school? Sitting in Mr Ken Aston's office at Newbury Park? You know the bloke who invented the Red and Yellow card for football? No that's right you didn't recognise him did you, and when he asked me what my favourite sport was you told him horse racing and I loved Red Rum. Mum I was 5 and he must have thought I was the youngest gambler he had ever met. That still makes me laugh even now.
I have great memories of growing up us a child and that's all down to you and Dad, but this one isn't about Dad its about you and me. I'm like you in so many ways, I have blond hair and blue eyes like you, where as Nicky has brown hair and brown eyes like Dad. I'm sensitive like you, I take things far too personally but I'm also stronger than you think I am, even though I don't always show it in the right way. I get that from you as well, that inner belief that what I'm doing is right even when others don't agree or see it.
I wasn't the easiest teenager growing up, I know that and I'm sorry for all the pain and hurt I caused even if I'm only saying it now. You are still the person I talk too first if I have an issue or a problem and you always give me the right advice even if its not what I want too hear at the time. I watch you with my kids and see the joy that they get from being around you, the sweets you fill them up with, the secret shopping trips for the girls and I'm proud to call you my Mum.
I tease you about the cards that you buy and the sentimental writing that is inside them, checking too see if there are any tears from you as you have written your message. You've said a few times you have cried in the shop when you have bought them but I wouldn't have it any other way. I know when you read this you will cry, as you always do when people say nice things about and to you.
Mum I love you, I always will, you are a special person not only to me but the friends and family you surround yourself with. I hope Ive made you proud of the father I have become, a little bit of Dad but mostly you, so take your time reading this, shed a little tear as I know you will and remember all that I am and what I have become is because I had the best Dad and more importantly the best Mum anyone was ever lucky enough too have. I haven't turned out too bad have I? Enjoy your day Mum I cant think of anyone who deserves it more.
Love Your Son
x
To My Wife on Mothers Day
Sarah this is for you, on Mothers day. I know you dont do sentiment that much but I want other people to know how special you really are, I love you very much and although I don't always say it or show it often enough I hope you enjoy your day.
Your the sane one, the one who doesnt let their emotions get in the way when dealing with the kids or other people. You are the one who the kids are scared off in a good way, they know not to push you too far.
You are the one that makes sure the school unifrom is at the end of the beds before you go to work so all I have to do is dress them and take them too school. The club's are organised, the dinner money paid, it all runs so smoothly because of you.
You are the one that gets the boys off to sleep at night as they lay and cuddle you on the settee before I come home from work, I get to carry them up to bed, knowing the dreams they are having are full of love and fun, a gift from you to them.
You are the one that the girls have gone to as they grow up (something I am very grateful to you for). You are the one who takes their friends home after they have been for dinner, no matter where they live you never moan about it you just do it.
You are the one that talks to all the Mums at the school and makes arrangements for who is going where and when, you are the one that makes sure they are in bed when they should be, safe and warm.
You are the one who will have a house full of everybodys kids, it never ever seems to bother you how many are here at any time. The noise, the chaos that it brings. You sort out the beds for them to sleep in and you are the one they come to when they are tired, or missing their own parents, you offer them comfort and reassurance, making sure when they do finally drop off that they know they are loved and treasured.
You are the one who lets our boys sneak into our bed when they are not well or just want a cuddle making sure that they take more of my side of the bed, I hear you giggling with them as I pretend to sleep. You get up and make them drinks if they are thirsty, even though you maybe exhausted.
You are in our kids eyes, the perfect Mum, the superhero who makes everything right with a kiss here and a cuddle there. To me you are my wife, my friend, my soulmate and the person I cannot ever see myself being without.
Without you none of it works, the family ties, the contact with friends, I'm crap at it and yet you make it look so easy. You know when to call and when not to, when to say something and when not to, whilst I blunder around doing and saying the wrong things most of the time, emotions getting in my way and opening my mouth 10 minutes before my brain engages, you correct it and don't even tell me to save my feelings.
Enjoy your day of burnt toast and cold tea in bed, the handmade cards, the kids nicking all your sweets. You'll make sure everyone is okay and happy before you start to enjoy your day, my mum, your mum, they will both be put first it's just the way you are.
They are lucky to have you as am I and I know when they get older it will be you the girls go to when their hearts get broken, who the boys will tell about their girlfriends, and Ill sit and watch it all as proud a man as I could possibly be that you chose me to spend your life with, I thank you for that every day.
I know there have been tough times, yet somehow you make sure we survie. You take the worry out of situations by being the one who is grounded, forever the optimist, the one who says well worry about it when it happens, whilst I will rant and worry and lose sleep. You are the love of my life, the best mother I know.
We are lucky to have you.
We all love you and always will.
Laura, Grace, Michael, Reece and me.
Happy Mothers Day.
xx
Your the sane one, the one who doesnt let their emotions get in the way when dealing with the kids or other people. You are the one who the kids are scared off in a good way, they know not to push you too far.
You are the one that makes sure the school unifrom is at the end of the beds before you go to work so all I have to do is dress them and take them too school. The club's are organised, the dinner money paid, it all runs so smoothly because of you.
You are the one that gets the boys off to sleep at night as they lay and cuddle you on the settee before I come home from work, I get to carry them up to bed, knowing the dreams they are having are full of love and fun, a gift from you to them.
You are the one that the girls have gone to as they grow up (something I am very grateful to you for). You are the one who takes their friends home after they have been for dinner, no matter where they live you never moan about it you just do it.
You are the one that talks to all the Mums at the school and makes arrangements for who is going where and when, you are the one that makes sure they are in bed when they should be, safe and warm.
You are the one who will have a house full of everybodys kids, it never ever seems to bother you how many are here at any time. The noise, the chaos that it brings. You sort out the beds for them to sleep in and you are the one they come to when they are tired, or missing their own parents, you offer them comfort and reassurance, making sure when they do finally drop off that they know they are loved and treasured.
You are the one who lets our boys sneak into our bed when they are not well or just want a cuddle making sure that they take more of my side of the bed, I hear you giggling with them as I pretend to sleep. You get up and make them drinks if they are thirsty, even though you maybe exhausted.
You are in our kids eyes, the perfect Mum, the superhero who makes everything right with a kiss here and a cuddle there. To me you are my wife, my friend, my soulmate and the person I cannot ever see myself being without.
Without you none of it works, the family ties, the contact with friends, I'm crap at it and yet you make it look so easy. You know when to call and when not to, when to say something and when not to, whilst I blunder around doing and saying the wrong things most of the time, emotions getting in my way and opening my mouth 10 minutes before my brain engages, you correct it and don't even tell me to save my feelings.
Enjoy your day of burnt toast and cold tea in bed, the handmade cards, the kids nicking all your sweets. You'll make sure everyone is okay and happy before you start to enjoy your day, my mum, your mum, they will both be put first it's just the way you are.
They are lucky to have you as am I and I know when they get older it will be you the girls go to when their hearts get broken, who the boys will tell about their girlfriends, and Ill sit and watch it all as proud a man as I could possibly be that you chose me to spend your life with, I thank you for that every day.
I know there have been tough times, yet somehow you make sure we survie. You take the worry out of situations by being the one who is grounded, forever the optimist, the one who says well worry about it when it happens, whilst I will rant and worry and lose sleep. You are the love of my life, the best mother I know.
We are lucky to have you.
We all love you and always will.
Laura, Grace, Michael, Reece and me.
Happy Mothers Day.
xx
Friday, 25 March 2011
Old Friends
There is a special place where I live, its not much to look at to be honest. It has a huge roundabout in the middle of it, with different A roads leading off to London in one direction, and the other towards Southend where Essex family's have spent many years getting sun burnt walking along its stony beaches. They go for the day too eat fish and chips, eat candy floss and consume their own body weight in 99's. Then like red lobsters they travel home back to the city.
The shops on the roads that lead away from the roundabout haven't changed much down the years. The usual mixture of takeaways and cafes, and a very famous nightclub. Faces is the place where the footballers go and the Essex girls, not all of them I might add but a certain breed, hope to get made for life.They think with their fake tans and short skirts that they will be 'the one' who will be whisked off to a life of luxury. Except, for the most part they end up discarded and left by the roadside, often in tears, not understanding why they wasn't chosen to spend longer than it took for them to give their souls away to these men. They rise, dust themselves down and go back for more time and time again, hoping this time they last longer than the expensive champagne bottle that is drank far too fast.
If you were to come and visit this place, you wouldn't think it was any different than any other roundabout with shops scattered around it. To you that may be true, to me however its like an old friend.
I have spent some of my happiest moments of my life standing in the place they call Gants Hill. Its where I met my wife for the first time when I was 17. The Iceland that is still there, is where I got my first full-time retail job at 18. The Odeon which unfortunately is no longer there, like most things it has been replaced by flats that no one can afford too buy, was where I used too take my 'dates', hey don't judge me it had back rows with double seats. It was the place where I tasted my first 7-11 Slurpee ( how I miss them even now).
Its where I used to go every Christmas Eve for an Indian with my mates after spending a night in the pub and the waiter would give us a lift home as no cab firm would touch us. It was the place where I nearly got arrested for pissing on a group of policeman from a roof top after England had lost to Germany at Italia 90. It holds some very special memories for me.
I was part of a group of 30, a mixture of boys and girls, the boys standing there posing next to the cars that their friends drove, MC Hammer and Bobby Brown blaring from the pioneer stereos and the boots of the cars full with speakers. The girls with their permed hair trying to attract the attention of the hormonal youths that courted them, all jean jackets and lip gloss. Every now and then disappearing off to the darkened car park for some quiet time of breast grabbing and laying your coat on the floor, so as the oil that had leaked from the cars didn't spoil their clothes if you were lucky enough to persuade a girl that you were 'the one'.
I stayed friends with two of the group, one married my sister and the other married one of the group as did I. We have been close through thick and thin and yet some of the group went their separate ways. It was no ones fault we just grew apart as a big group like that eventually does. I was the first too settle down the others followed years later. We tried to keep in touch with the others but unfortunately it wasn't that easy or perhaps we didn't try that hard, remember though this was before mobile phones, or perhaps thats an easier way of remembering it.
Standing in the park this Sunday with my kids a huge dog came bounding towards us. A little nervous at first at the size of the dog and the apparent lack of an owner I was ready for anything. Well I say anything what I mean was I was ready too grab as many kids as I could and run for it, the bravery of my youth left me many years ago, about the time I tasted my own blood for the first and only time and decided I didn't like it very much. However my bravery wasn't needed as the dog stopped and sat down right in front of me and looked at me, I stopped my heart still pounding in my chest and a little surprised by this I heard a voice say,
'Tony you big poofter stroke him he wants to say hello'
I didn't even have too look up I knew that voice straight away. The frame was a little wider, the hair had gone but that smile was still there, the killer smile that swayed a hundred ladies and got me in so much trouble as I fought the boyfriends off, whilst he went for some quiet time. To be fair he did the same for me as well when the time arose. I grinned like a kid at Christmas and embraced him like the long lost friend he was. Both my four kids and his son stood there staring at us, wondering why their Dads were hugging each other. We laughed and joked about each others appearance and it was like we hadn't been apart. We fell into the conversations we had when we were younger, talking about the friends we knew and lost. It was like we were 18 all over again.
I wanted it to last forever, to go back to those days and the memories and fun we had, but all too soon it was over. We swapped numbers promising too keep in touch but knowing deep down we wouldn't but didn't want to say it. I told my kids about him and hoped he did the same about me, I'm sure he would have.
Today I got a message on Facebook saying someone wanted to be friends with me. To be honest I'm very selective of who I accept, unlike Twitter where Ill add anyone and everyone ( have you seen who I follow? Exactly). I have pictures of my kids on my Facebook page and my settings are set to friends only. I was intrigued by this request so I had a look. I couldn't believe what I saw. It was the final part of my core group of friends when I was much younger, lighter and had more hair, mind you his hair had gone as well so I felt a little better by that.
Messages were quickly exchanged containing phone numbers and a phone call was made. We caught up briefly on what had happened in our lives and agreed too meet up as soon as we can. Meeting these two old friends has made me smile constantly to myself this week. The memories of what we did and the fun we had, the girls we kissed and the fights we won. Like the spring weather that's brought more sunshine into my life this week it feels like a cloud that was hanging over me has lifted.
By speaking to these guys and sharing what we had its brightened my world. From the dark places Ive been recently the memories are coming flooding back and even as I sit here and write this I'm smiling to myself. Whenever I go past Gants Hill now, the place where I used too live, I shall be thankful for the summers of fun I had there, for the people I met and the girl I married. It may not look much to the outsider but to me it will always be home and a part of me that I will never want be rid off. To me its a keeper of memories and a very special place.
Ive written before about what we did as kids and why this place and the people I met were and still are so special to me. (well what I can say legally without getting arrested) please click the links and enjoy sharing in those happy memories. Gants Hill Part 1 Gants Hill Part 2 The Best Summer Of My Life Part 1 The Best Summer Of My Life Part 2.
Friday, 18 March 2011
Lonely
The sun is starting to set as I walk up our road, cars pass on their journey home the sky a reddish pink colour as the sun starts too set. I lift my head slightly from looking at the grey damp pavements knowing that the car isn't there but still looking anyway.
I walk up our pathway and put my key in the lock, twisting and turning it until it bites hoping that this time it doesn't break in the lock, that we should have got fixed months ago but never did. I push the door open and pick up the post from the floor, and then it hits me, the silence. No one is in the house, its getting dark, and I'm on my own and I'm not sure I like it.
There aren't any kids running towards me saying hello, you're not sitting on the settee cup of tea in your hand, the house is empty and very, very quiet. I walk into the kitchen more in hope than anything else that someone will be there but knowing in my heart that they aren't. I take my coat off and hang it over the door as I always do and chuck my bag on the floor. What am I going to do with myself I wonder?.
It seemed to be a great idea when you first said you were going away for the weekend with your aunts and mum, the kids would stay at your dads for the night and I could have some peace and quiet too write my book. It all seemed so easy, but now on my own in this house, no noise, no kids to play with and you to kiss, its feels empty and cold and I don't like it.
When I said goodbye to the people at work tonight it didn't dawn on me that they may be the last people I would talk too for the next 48 hours. I always thought I wanted to live on my own one day, like I had missed out on something in my life meeting as we did at 17. Now though I realise I am terrible on my own, I hate the coldness of the house, the quietness of it all.
I find the note you left me saying you love me and to enjoy myself, some money attached to it for a take-away too treat myself with. I have an empty feeling inside as if something is missing from here, then I realise what it is. Ive known since the moment I walked through the door, you're not here and neither are they.
I'm missing the noise and the arguments, the tears and the laughter, the sound of you asking me how my day was, even though you know Ill moan about it, but you listen and tell me it will be okay as you always do. I'm missing you telling the kids to go to bed and the kisses they give me. I'm missing you telling me its getting late and to get on the laptop and finish the book. I'm missing you.
It may be a house, and Ill cope I'm sure, but it wont feel like a home until you are all back in it with me.
I walk up our pathway and put my key in the lock, twisting and turning it until it bites hoping that this time it doesn't break in the lock, that we should have got fixed months ago but never did. I push the door open and pick up the post from the floor, and then it hits me, the silence. No one is in the house, its getting dark, and I'm on my own and I'm not sure I like it.
There aren't any kids running towards me saying hello, you're not sitting on the settee cup of tea in your hand, the house is empty and very, very quiet. I walk into the kitchen more in hope than anything else that someone will be there but knowing in my heart that they aren't. I take my coat off and hang it over the door as I always do and chuck my bag on the floor. What am I going to do with myself I wonder?.
It seemed to be a great idea when you first said you were going away for the weekend with your aunts and mum, the kids would stay at your dads for the night and I could have some peace and quiet too write my book. It all seemed so easy, but now on my own in this house, no noise, no kids to play with and you to kiss, its feels empty and cold and I don't like it.
When I said goodbye to the people at work tonight it didn't dawn on me that they may be the last people I would talk too for the next 48 hours. I always thought I wanted to live on my own one day, like I had missed out on something in my life meeting as we did at 17. Now though I realise I am terrible on my own, I hate the coldness of the house, the quietness of it all.
I find the note you left me saying you love me and to enjoy myself, some money attached to it for a take-away too treat myself with. I have an empty feeling inside as if something is missing from here, then I realise what it is. Ive known since the moment I walked through the door, you're not here and neither are they.
I'm missing the noise and the arguments, the tears and the laughter, the sound of you asking me how my day was, even though you know Ill moan about it, but you listen and tell me it will be okay as you always do. I'm missing you telling the kids to go to bed and the kisses they give me. I'm missing you telling me its getting late and to get on the laptop and finish the book. I'm missing you.
It may be a house, and Ill cope I'm sure, but it wont feel like a home until you are all back in it with me.
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
One Day I Wish.................
I have been writing my blog for nearly about 8 months now. In that time I have tried many things and I'm only now beginning to find my writing style. The ability to write words in a way that is both entertaining and also memorable is a real skill. To get people to see the world as you do, to picture the things that you see in your head takes a talent that perhaps is beyond me at the moment.
I have written blogs I am proud of dont get me wrong, but there are others that I wish I could have exspressed myself better in. As you some of you know I have had an opportunity to try and turn Sammy The Elf into something a lot bigger. Can I do it? Im not sure. I love the story but making it stand out from an already saturated market? Well Ill give it my best shot. If I fail I shall try again. The more I write the better I get I know that. I didnt have the education that some of the people who's advice I have seeked and that scares me a little. The way that they use words is far better than I am able to do at this time.
Through twitter I have come across some of the best blogs I have ever read. I actually look forward to reading them in a way I did as I kid when Roy of the Rovers used to drop through the letterbox every Friday. I would rush downstairs, grab it excitedly and read it from cover to cover. Hamish and Mighty Mouse, Roy himself and Billy's boots. The pleasure I got from reading those words and looking at the pictures was a true joy. Something even now I can still feel the excitement I got from those comics.
Like that 9 year old child who couldn't wait to lose myself in the story's that were told. The same way I cherished the books by CS Lewis, Enid Blyton and other books I read as a child. I get that same level of excitement when I see these blogs appear.The way that these blogs are written, with such passion and subtleness is something I aspire to. Ive read a lot of websites telling me how to write and Ive also read a lot of books as well, telling me what the tricks of the trade are from their point of view. Wasted money? No because the more I read the more I learn after all they are published and I am not. To write though in the style that they do is something I aspire to, I don't seek their approval, that is not what this blog is about. I guess when I tell them Ive written this about them I shall have restraining orders taken out against me.
I envy them in the way that they are able to take me to places in the way that they do. I can picture clearly what they are saying and the way it is written. That is a real skill. Can I write as well as that? I'm not so sure but I will continue to write everyday. Until I am ready to be at the level that they are I will sit outside the room and look in through the misted window. Hoping that one day I find the way to express myself, the images I keep in my head and the thoughts that I have in a way that has others excited every time I post something.
I can picture things so clearly in my head, colours, emotions, people, but sometimes I struggle to convoy that to the page. It will come one day I'm sure but its not quite happening for me at the moment. I get excited when a new idea pops into my head, the way I can make the story unfold. The thrill I get realising that these people, these places are in my head and no one knows they are there until I write them down. Trying to convey the images into a story that people will like to read, not being able to sleep as the next few pages of my story whirl around my head, desperately trying to work their way into the story as if they are jealous of the thoughts that I have had already and written down.
When I write something that has festered in my mind for a few days the pleasure I get when I see those words on paper is a truly wonderful experience. To take an idea and make it real, to allow people to use their own imagination and see what you saw when you wrote it is a true gift. It takes time and patience and yes maybe it doesn't always work but at the time I published it I thought it did. The challenge every day is to get better. True contentment is doing what you want to do and being happy with your life. Am I there yet? In a small way but not as fully as I want to be.
I appreciate all the comments I get from the people that read these blogs. I know you comment on my Facebook page or send me emails and I am truly grateful for that it means a lot. For now though please take a moment to read the exceptional writing of my favourite bloggers, Baghabit, sharonlongworth, Mr LondonStreet, Phillip Dodd, Otherwordlyone. All I ask is that perhaps you come back to me if only fleetingly to see how much I have improved and perhaps find me no longer looking through that misted window but able to use words and tell story's in the way that they do. The way that they write is something I aspire to and I hope they take this blog as the huge compliment that it was meant to be.
I have written blogs I am proud of dont get me wrong, but there are others that I wish I could have exspressed myself better in. As you some of you know I have had an opportunity to try and turn Sammy The Elf into something a lot bigger. Can I do it? Im not sure. I love the story but making it stand out from an already saturated market? Well Ill give it my best shot. If I fail I shall try again. The more I write the better I get I know that. I didnt have the education that some of the people who's advice I have seeked and that scares me a little. The way that they use words is far better than I am able to do at this time.
Through twitter I have come across some of the best blogs I have ever read. I actually look forward to reading them in a way I did as I kid when Roy of the Rovers used to drop through the letterbox every Friday. I would rush downstairs, grab it excitedly and read it from cover to cover. Hamish and Mighty Mouse, Roy himself and Billy's boots. The pleasure I got from reading those words and looking at the pictures was a true joy. Something even now I can still feel the excitement I got from those comics.
Like that 9 year old child who couldn't wait to lose myself in the story's that were told. The same way I cherished the books by CS Lewis, Enid Blyton and other books I read as a child. I get that same level of excitement when I see these blogs appear.The way that these blogs are written, with such passion and subtleness is something I aspire to. Ive read a lot of websites telling me how to write and Ive also read a lot of books as well, telling me what the tricks of the trade are from their point of view. Wasted money? No because the more I read the more I learn after all they are published and I am not. To write though in the style that they do is something I aspire to, I don't seek their approval, that is not what this blog is about. I guess when I tell them Ive written this about them I shall have restraining orders taken out against me.
I envy them in the way that they are able to take me to places in the way that they do. I can picture clearly what they are saying and the way it is written. That is a real skill. Can I write as well as that? I'm not so sure but I will continue to write everyday. Until I am ready to be at the level that they are I will sit outside the room and look in through the misted window. Hoping that one day I find the way to express myself, the images I keep in my head and the thoughts that I have in a way that has others excited every time I post something.
I can picture things so clearly in my head, colours, emotions, people, but sometimes I struggle to convoy that to the page. It will come one day I'm sure but its not quite happening for me at the moment. I get excited when a new idea pops into my head, the way I can make the story unfold. The thrill I get realising that these people, these places are in my head and no one knows they are there until I write them down. Trying to convey the images into a story that people will like to read, not being able to sleep as the next few pages of my story whirl around my head, desperately trying to work their way into the story as if they are jealous of the thoughts that I have had already and written down.
When I write something that has festered in my mind for a few days the pleasure I get when I see those words on paper is a truly wonderful experience. To take an idea and make it real, to allow people to use their own imagination and see what you saw when you wrote it is a true gift. It takes time and patience and yes maybe it doesn't always work but at the time I published it I thought it did. The challenge every day is to get better. True contentment is doing what you want to do and being happy with your life. Am I there yet? In a small way but not as fully as I want to be.
I appreciate all the comments I get from the people that read these blogs. I know you comment on my Facebook page or send me emails and I am truly grateful for that it means a lot. For now though please take a moment to read the exceptional writing of my favourite bloggers, Baghabit, sharonlongworth, Mr LondonStreet, Phillip Dodd, Otherwordlyone. All I ask is that perhaps you come back to me if only fleetingly to see how much I have improved and perhaps find me no longer looking through that misted window but able to use words and tell story's in the way that they do. The way that they write is something I aspire to and I hope they take this blog as the huge compliment that it was meant to be.
Friday, 25 February 2011
My Dream On The Train
I have been feeling down for a few days now and I have just worked out what it is wrong with me. I want to go back, I want to go back to being a teenager and relive my life differently. The boy that had no stresses apart from what style to do my hair, where the next fight was coming from, who's car I would drive around in that night. The joy and unbridled fun of the summer of 1990. Italia 90, laughing with mates and just generally enjoying myself. Am I having a mid-life crisis? Well I haven't got a tattoo, bought a Harley, changed my haircut or started listening to Lady Ga Ga (If I ever do that please shoot me). What I have started doing is living with regret of things I should have done and didn't. Choices I didn't make that now I wish I had.
I wish I could go back to my teenage self and offer him some advice, to follow his heart and do what he really wants to do, not what hes told to do. To stand up to people when he did things because they told him too even though deep, deep down he knew he didn't want to do them. The jobs I took, the mistakes I made. That making these choices might not work out but when he nears forty he wont live with the regret he now has of not doing them when he was younger. To sit him down and tell him that he needs to be strong and do what makes him happy not what he thinks others want him to do. Like the grandfather that talks to the child about the lessons he learnt in life. Passing on that knowledge to the younger generation and hoping they head the wise words he bestows on them, but knowing that they probably wont.
Its a weird feeling, like being trapped in very cold water and seeing people walking above me but not being able to escape because there is a thick layer of ice where the sun should be shining above me. I'm trapped and I cant get out. I see people walking above me happy, smiling and enjoying their lives whilst me? I'm drowning and no one is there to help me. To take me by the hand and lead me out into the air that will fill my lungs with life once more. It doesn't happen though and I struggle on in the water getting colder and colder. The feeling never leaves me its the same every day.
I haven't felt like this before, ever, and it worried me for a few days. The usual, off my food, lack of sleep, lack of concentration and playing old memories over and over in my mind. Decisions I made for the right or wrong reasons at the time and then looking at them with my life experience now and wishing I had done them differently for whatever reason. To perhaps be happier in my life choices than I am now. To live alone, which Ive never done, in my own flat. Me, laptop, and an idea. Writing away and getting paid for it. My idea of utopia. I don't regret my marriage or my kids they mean the world to me. I regret making bad job choices and letting my emotions get the better of me.
Something changed tonight though and it made a lot of sense. It wasn't anything anyone had done or said. I was on the train coming home and fell asleep (the usual I normally do this) and I had a dream. In this one though I wasn't drowning, I was happy. I was surrounded by my wife and kids and we were not living where we do now. It was a larger house in the country. I was sitting in the study surrounded by books, in front of me was a desk with a laptop on it. The sun was bright and shining through the large double glazed patio doors. Everything it touched it made glisten, as if there was a bulb in even the dullest piece of furniture. I was writing, on a laptop. I felt calm, more calm than I have ever felt in my life. I had nothing worrying me and I was doing what I wanted to do more than anything. Writing. I couldn't see what I was writing but it felt like someone or something had touched my soul. I felt huge satisfaction at what I was doing. As if I had waited all my life for this moment. My fingers were working busily on the keyboard.
It was like I had been visited by something that had reached out to me when I needed it most. To reassure me that I would be okay. I'm not religious in anyway I never have been, but something happened tonight and I cant explain it. I have come straight home and written this blog. No one is in and I wont tell anyone about this dream (unless they read my blog, which thankfully they don't, maybe because I haven't told them I have this blog. Its easier for me for them not to know. Sarah is the only one who does know and I want to keep it that way for now). It was like a glimpse into the future, I could see me, older but smiling and happy, my face reflecting from my laptop as I wrote. I could see my hands taping away on a laptop, the kids, playing in the garden, chasing each other around, looked older, much older, and Sarah looked even more beautiful than she does now, as she sat at the white metal table on the patio. I couldn't make out sounds or voices but I knew, just knew that I was meant to be there.
I am almost halfway through my life ( I hope). I have spent 25 years working for someone else and I may have 25 more years to go doing the same things. Travelling to a place I don't want to be, working hours I don't want to work, for people who don't take into consideration my experience and treat my like I am a fool. However after this dream tonight I'm convinced that this wont happen. I am convinced that somewhere, sometime, my life will change for the better. That I will get my chance to do what I have always wanted to do. I don't know when it will change, I have no idea but I just got the feeling if I work hard enough I will get there. Call it a gut instinct.
I'm holding onto to that with all my might. Was it my guardian angel? I guess I will never know, as I said I am not religious in anyway. I have had dreams like these before when I was a child. It was weird but when I was 12 I dreamed about my wife, I didn't know her name but I pictured where I would meet her and what she would look like, I never saw her face completely and I was sitting in a car of a person I didn't know, but the moment I saw her walk down the street it felt like I had been there before. I checked a diary I used to keep and I had written it down almost exactly. It really shook me up for a few days. Somehow though it just felt right. I feeling I cannot explain unless you have felt it yourself. You just know. Maybe one day I will tell you the other dreams Ive had about my future, that have happened, and some that haven't occurred yet. Some call it Deja Vu. Me? I am not so sure. Its something that happens to me every now and then, but what I do know is that after that dream on the train tonight I feel more positive now than I have in a very long time. Its a wonderful feeling. My dream is alive and kicking.
Thursday, 20 January 2011
The Best Job In The World
Having time off sick, which I hate by the way the boredom does my head in, has allowed me to think about things. To get a little sentimental but to also see what I enjoy and how I can do things better than I am. The thing is though the one thing it has made me realise is I have the best job in the world. Nope I haven't lost it don't worry. This job doesn't pay me anything money wise, it is long hours, trying, stressful, but most of all it brings me more happiness than anything that I do. The best job in the world is being a father, a dad, pops or whatever else you call them.I have four kids who are my world. I may shout at that them, I may tell them off but they are my kids and I will be here for as long as I'm supposed to be here for. I have two girls 10 and 7 and two boys 4 and 3. Each very different personality wise, each very different in their looks, but each one totally loved by me, and I hope loved back by them. They are all at different stages in their young lives now and although Laura at 10 is leading the way, the others are being just as she was at those ages only in their unique way of doing things.
Laura is in her last year of Primary School. We are awaiting to hear what secondary school she is going to which we wont hear about for another few months. She is growing up into a beautiful, independent and strong minded young lady. A pleasure to spend time with, she was my first born and I dread the day she leaves home. A long way off perhaps, but soon she wont need me as much as she does now, she will make her own friends, want to go out with them and not me. That's going to be a tough bridge for me to cross, but Ill get there.........eventually.
Grace is in the middle of Primary school. She reminds me so much of me at that age it scares me. Daydreaming her way through life, making friends and with the most acute fashion sense Ive ever seen. I'm not sure what it is but she can pick any clothes out of a cupboard and they just match. You couldn't chose those clothes yourself she just has a knack of doing it. Untidy and messy, but with all the love in the world to give she makes me smile every day. She can also drive me nuts but she wants to spend time with me playing games and drawing. She hasn't quite got Laura's independence yet, that's a few years away so Ill make the most of the years we have until we get there. She is the one that is going to be the one surrounded by kids, she just loves them.
Michael and Reece the dynamic duo. The closest of all my kids in age there is 20 months between them, so similar and yet so very different. I keep getting this recurring dream that they are both at school one day and I get a phone call from the school it goes something like this:
"Hello is that Mr Hodgson?"
"Yes"
"Hello, this is the Headmaster of your sons school would it be possible for you to come and get them?"
"Yes, why?"
"Well, how can I put this, Michael and Reece are on the roof having attached their underpants to the school flagpole and are waving them around for all to see. Errrr also Mr Hodgson, they are waving their backsides at the rest of the school"
"Oh My God Ill be there straight away".
That about sums them up to be honest, they have this cheeky way about them both. A little mischievous, a little daring, always doing things together. Michael is the quieter of the two, a real daddy's boy, always sitting on my lap or playing computer games. He isn't into sport that much but I'm sure that will change. He started school this year and has made lots of friends. He enjoys it but always wants a final look at me before he goes into school.
Reece is a mummy's boy, no problem with that, but he will always ask for my wife first. They spend the most time together so I can understand that. Very headstrong and knows what he wants he is also a very loving kid. Football mad, always wanting to kick a ball about he is the baby of the family and sometimes plays up to it. He will be the one that wont leave his sisters alone when they get older. Laura all prim and proper with Reece and his mates looking through the key hole.
So there you are then that's my broad and as I said at the start I have the best job in the world. Made even more special by the kids that call me Dad. A proud man at that.
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