A poem about how I feel. Nothing more. Nothing less.
If only those around me could forget that I exist..
they'd never have to see the tears of blood upon my wrist,
I'd never be a problem or a burden to them all..
there'd be no need to catch me from a rather lengthy fall...
they'd never have to see the tears of blood upon my wrist,
I'd never be a problem or a burden to them all..
there'd be no need to catch me from a rather lengthy fall...
It's easier to judge me from the outside of my shell,
but hard to understand my state within the depths of hell,
No-one really knows that I am simply just not well,
to be discernibly deciding when to say farewell..
but hard to understand my state within the depths of hell,
No-one really knows that I am simply just not well,
to be discernibly deciding when to say farewell..
I've tried to hold out onto hope that one day things will change,
yet most of those around me suggest that I am strange,
Never really fitted in to what others would want,
not even found my own path now I'm thinking "what's the point?"
yet most of those around me suggest that I am strange,
Never really fitted in to what others would want,
not even found my own path now I'm thinking "what's the point?"
To lose someone in family to their choice of ends,
means i'll never get to see them in this life again,
they are not in pain no more and they are now just free,
so why do I just want to join them... and there'd be no more me.
means i'll never get to see them in this life again,
they are not in pain no more and they are now just free,
so why do I just want to join them... and there'd be no more me.
The main reason I'm holding back is through the guilt and shame,
of being the one to cause these others plentiful more pain,
As well as lack of confidence to act on what I say,
there's always this nagging doubt, that I will do, one day.
of being the one to cause these others plentiful more pain,
As well as lack of confidence to act on what I say,
there's always this nagging doubt, that I will do, one day.
- Current Mood:
exhausted
Also known - as the bronze killer.
But in layman's terms - it's known as iron overload.
It is a genetic condition - but the gene itself is recessive. For those who read who do not understand that - recessive genetics need both parents to carry one of the genes linked to the condition to have any chance of passing it on.
I shall refer to it from now on as HH. (standing for Hereditary Haemochromatosis) - The variant that I have.
Initially - I begun with presenting signs of depression to my doctor. This carried on and off for the best part of a year, before he decided to try running me through a possibility of checking for HH. Involving a blood test, it didn't take long for it to come back with figures of - Serum iron (also known as ferritin) - 469, and Transferrin Saturation was 81%. Ideally the serum iron would be between 20-100 and the Transferrin Saturation would be up to 45%. These results suggested further testing was required.
I eventually got seen by a Gastroenterologist Consultant - some 8-12 weeks later, and after a brief discussion was sent for another blood test via pathology in order to test for the genetics.
Personally, I have the C282Y genetic mutation. This is the most known about HH pairing that causes iron overload at the moment. Having two genes the same is referred to as homozygous. Or in conversation, it could be referred to as having the "C282Y homozygote". Having two genes different (such as the next most documented pairing thus far - of C282Y/H63D), is referred to as a compound heterozygote.
At the moment - I am currently in the opening phase of treatment. Commonly known as phlebotomy (also known as bloodletting) - the volume of blood taken mirrors that given in a blood donation. Every other time I have a small sample taken on top of this - in order to test to make sure my levels are coming down accordingly. Once down to around 50 on the Ferritin (serum iron) I shall then be in the stage known as maintenance. This is simply what it is. Maintaining the levels being within a healthier range, in order to prevent the iron from overloading again.
Some of the complications of this hereditary disorder, particularly if untreated, can include:
For more on this condition - there is a haemochromatosis society based in the UK, in Australia, in Canada - to name 3 places. But anyone with ancestry dating back towards the Celtic origins - it would be worth considering getting tested.
Wikipedia article -> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HFE_heredit
Haemochromatosis Society UK -> http://www.haemochromatosis.org.uk
But in layman's terms - it's known as iron overload.
It is a genetic condition - but the gene itself is recessive. For those who read who do not understand that - recessive genetics need both parents to carry one of the genes linked to the condition to have any chance of passing it on.
I shall refer to it from now on as HH. (standing for Hereditary Haemochromatosis) - The variant that I have.
Initially - I begun with presenting signs of depression to my doctor. This carried on and off for the best part of a year, before he decided to try running me through a possibility of checking for HH. Involving a blood test, it didn't take long for it to come back with figures of - Serum iron (also known as ferritin) - 469, and Transferrin Saturation was 81%. Ideally the serum iron would be between 20-100 and the Transferrin Saturation would be up to 45%. These results suggested further testing was required.
I eventually got seen by a Gastroenterologist Consultant - some 8-12 weeks later, and after a brief discussion was sent for another blood test via pathology in order to test for the genetics.
Personally, I have the C282Y genetic mutation. This is the most known about HH pairing that causes iron overload at the moment. Having two genes the same is referred to as homozygous. Or in conversation, it could be referred to as having the "C282Y homozygote". Having two genes different (such as the next most documented pairing thus far - of C282Y/H63D), is referred to as a compound heterozygote.
At the moment - I am currently in the opening phase of treatment. Commonly known as phlebotomy (also known as bloodletting) - the volume of blood taken mirrors that given in a blood donation. Every other time I have a small sample taken on top of this - in order to test to make sure my levels are coming down accordingly. Once down to around 50 on the Ferritin (serum iron) I shall then be in the stage known as maintenance. This is simply what it is. Maintaining the levels being within a healthier range, in order to prevent the iron from overloading again.
Some of the complications of this hereditary disorder, particularly if untreated, can include:
- Organ damage
- Arthritis
- Diabetes
- Neurological disorders
- Cardiomyopathy
- Arrhythmia
- Loss of libido
- Cirrhosis of the Liver
- Insulin resistance (often in people diagnosed with diabetes type 2)
For more on this condition - there is a haemochromatosis society based in the UK, in Australia, in Canada - to name 3 places. But anyone with ancestry dating back towards the Celtic origins - it would be worth considering getting tested.
Wikipedia article -> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HFE_heredit
Haemochromatosis Society UK -> http://www.haemochromatosis.org.uk
Preparation is key
A breeze blew the golden brown leaves down the pavement. It was early morning, and the rays of light were barely breaking the horizon. There was a little murmur of traffic as the commuters were starting to make their longer journeys from the tiny village to the various cities around. The early birds were delaying their songs, awaiting a little bit more light to filter through the darkened skies. Stars were shining, as there were no clouds. Some would have even considered it to be romantic, had it been at the other end of the day.
The room was spacious. A double bed lay right in the centre, draped in linen that was patterned with gold and silver squares. A bedside table, home of a lamp and an alarm clock. There was a little cupboard underneath, but that was a storage for all the important paperwork. Over in one of the corners, was a flat screen TV, all wired up to a digital box which was part of an ongoing monthly subscription for all available channels. To the right of the bed, was a door to an en-suite bathroom, with white tiled walls, chequered tiling on the floor, and a separate bath and shower facility.
So the alarm was bleeping. An idle hand rose up from under the covers, showing a sign of life. A few moments passed as this hand reached around to find the source of this continuous beeping, until finally it settled upon the alarm. Although tempted to use the snooze function, allowing an extra ten minutes each time it was pressed, this single hand decided otherwise, opting to completely turn the alarm off. Pulling the covers off, there was a slightly larger framed female specimen, a thirty-eight year old, with shoulder length brown hair. There was much to be anticipated today, and so much to get ready.
As the time seemed to drag slowly through the morning, the rays of sunlight filtered in through the east-facing window. The curtains were not open, but the light colouring of them allowed the sunlight to shine through, adding weight to the decision to wake up. Volume of traffic was always quite high, as there was only one route through this village to get to the cities, so the hustle and bustle of the cars passing through the neighbourhood began to make an increasing amount of noise. The woman rolled out of bed, tidying up the bedding as she did so, before stumbling across to open the curtains, yawning widely as she did so.
After a few moments of just embracing the start of a brand new day, she was initially in two minds. Coffee, or shower. She decided she was going to be different today, so she went over to her purse, and pulled a coin out. Ok, heads for coffee, tails for shower, she said to herself as she flipped the coin into the air. Letting it hit the cream coloured carpet, she watched it slowly come to a stop. It was tails. Seemed the fairest way for her to organise a choice of two different options, so she grabbed her towels and hopped in for a quick blast of freshening up.
Feeling more alert after her shower, she was able to notice that the intensity of the traffic flow was continuing to increase as rush hour was inching its way ever closer. Having flipped the coin to decide which she was going to do first, she knew what she was going to do next. Leaving the serenity of the well kept bedroom behind, she made her way down the hall, past one of the spare bedrooms, before descending the staircase. The uncarpeted wooden staircase was a little treacherous, some would say, but only if it wasn’t well looked after. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned right, into the rather large kitchen area, and filled up the kettle. Coffee was going to be key to her making it through today. There was a lot to do, but she was rather conscious of the time and, having thoroughly planned it all out in advance, it was just putting it all together at the right time.
The cupboard above the kettle was where they kept the mugs. There was an assembled assortment, a collection built up over a number of years, but today she opted to select her preferential favourite mug. It was red, just like her favourite dress that she had deliberately reserved for special occasions. Today was going to be no different. There were three jars on the side behind where the kettle was. All were labelled, one with Tea, one with Coffee, and one with Sugar. Picking out the Coffee and the Sugar jars, she grabbed a teaspoon out of the drawer under the toaster a little further along, and proceeded to take a spoonful of sugar, and a half-spoon of coffee. Black coffee was her style, especially first thing in the morning when she needed a boost.
She wasn’t much of a breakfast person. Today there was a slightly edgier feel, a little wave of anxiety, so eating breakfast was not at the forefront of her mind. Instead she made her way, coffee in hand, through past the bottom of the stairs, into the sitting-room. In the middle of this sitting-room sat a mahogany coffee table, varnished and rather tidy to look upon, with a couple of glass pane squares, bisected by another line of mahogany. There was a red three-piece suite, formed of a three seater settee, which was along a side wall, and two armchairs along the other. The layout of the room was a little haphazard, but she wasn’t too bothered about that. Not today. If there was anything wrong, she was anticipating it all being sorted over the coming days.
Sitting down in one of the armchairs, she leant forwards and, moving a coaster from just about in arms reach, to directly in front of her, she placed the coffee cup onto it. There was a little box down beside the chair she was sat in, which inside, had the plans listed as to what was to be done today. Opening the box, and pulling out this pre-planned itinerary, she began systematically taking the information in. There was a little bit of grocery shopping to be done, to assist with the preparation of food for the evening ahead, but there was also a few other things. The gas bill was due to be paid, along with sending a letter first-class. Both would have to wait until the post office was open. She also had invitations to hand around to village neighbours, and a list of a few numbers to dial to confirm if other family members were going to be able to make it or not.
Taking a sip of her morning coffee, she realised something was missing. She’d left her cigarettes upstairs. Making her way back up the wooden staircase, she had a brief look into the spare rooms to make sure everything was present and correct. Everything seemed to be in order, so she made her way to her bedroom, and found her cigarettes inside the pocket of her light blue jeans. Realising she’d not got a working lighter as her previous one had died, she began to panic slightly, but then remembered seeing a box of matches in the drawer with the cutlery.
Having located the cigarettes and matches, she picked up her coffee from the coaster in the sitting-room, before making her way to the porch at the back of the house. There was a bench in this porch, and a little shapely table, with an ashtray in place. Closing the door to the house to avoid any unnecessary smoke getting inside, she proceeded to light up. No sooner had she done so, than her phone began to ring. Frantically stubbing her cigarette out, she raced to get to the phone, only as she picked up, to hear a click as the person at the other end had hung up. With no way of figuring out who it was that had tried to dial, she put it down to a missed opportunity and returned to the porch. Re-lighting her cigarette, and gulping down her coffee which had now gone mildly tepid. As she finished her cigarette and opened the door, she heard the phone go again. This time, with the advantage of not having to open the door again, she made it to discover it was her younger brother.
“Hello, Violet here,” she answered in a slightly breathless voice.
“Hello my darling sister. Its Drake,” replied her brother.
“Oh, good, while you’re on the phone, are you going to be able to make it later?” she enquired a little more calmly.
“I should be there about six o’clock. Is there anything you need me to do?” he responded.
“I have it covered. If needed, I shall call you.”
“Ok sis, You take care, and I’ll catch you later.”
“Take care. Bye.”
A short conversation, but it allowed her to cross one person off of her list of people to speak to. But where was her itinerary? She didn’t remember having it out in the porch, nor was it likely to be upstairs where she’d got her cigarettes from. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Hurrying over to it, a little flustered, she opened the door to discover the village postman, Derek, was there with a small package in his hands.
Derek was a sprightly fellow. He had been delivering letters and parcels single-handedly round this village for thirty-five years now, and knew everyone by name. Even though people had come and gone, he was good with his memory still. To look at him, you wouldn’t have believed he had turned sixty just a year ago. He still had jet-black hair, all natural colouring, and the brightest blue eyes anyone could ever imagine. A stocky man, he had looked after himself well over the years, and could keep up with many a youngster on the pushbikes.
“Hello Derek. Do you need me to sign for this?” she asked, eying up the package he held.
“No Vi, no signature required for this one, it was just a little too big to fit through the letterbox that’s all,” he replied. “Are you excited for tonight?”
She looked at him apprehensively. “I’m excited, but I’m employing caution. I would like everything to go right, but there’s still a little seed of doubt that something could go wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of cautiousness. I hope I can make it, if these legs of mine allow me to arrive safely,” he replied, a cheeky grin spreading over his face.
“You’ll be fine, you’ve done so much for this community and you’re in good health yourself. Unlike us smokers you have a glow about you,” she said, remorsefully.
“I’ll see you here about seven then. What time are they due to arrive?”
“Sometime between seven-thirty and eight,” she opened the package while saying. “Oh, invitations! What a delight. Could you do me a small favour and pop these in on your way around?”
“Why most certainly Vi. We are a community and every little bit goes a long way. I shall be back later.”
“Don’t wear yourself out. I expect they would want to see everyone. You have a good day, and thank you Derek.”
“Not a problem Vi. Cheerio!”
That was two more things to cross off her list. Now where had she put it? She knew there was a gas bill to pay, and also a little bit of grocery shopping to do, but she was sure there was something else to do at the post office. She returned to the sitting-room, and there, on top of the box where it had been kept inside, was a small, folded, piece of paper. Sighing with relief, she walked over to it, and opened it out.
Derek, Drake. Two names to cross off. Invitations sent out, albeit with the help of Derek, but they were on their way. And scrolling through the list, she realised she’d forgotten to give Derek the letter. As she still had to go to the post office anyway, it wasn’t quite so bad.
Time was feeling like it was starting to go a bit quicker, so she carried her itinerary upstairs, and left it by her alarm clock as she got out a couple of things to pop on for the running around of the day. She wanted to get the shopping and post office out of the way so she could concentrate on confirming other arrivals and preparing the food. Putting on a short sleeved, navy blue t-shirt, and the light blue jeans, there was one small matter of her hair to organise. ‘It’s not important for now,’ she thought. ‘It’ll only need redoing later.” Spotting her gleaming white trainers in the corner, she put them on, got her keys, locked up and set off for the shops.
On arrival at the post office, with gas bill and letter in one hand, and grocery shopping list in the other, she happened to bump into her sister-in-law, Jackie. Jackie was thirty-three, had strawberry blonde hair, was five foot three, and had a figure that she could only read about in magazines. She was a sweet enough woman, and Violet had said that her brother Drake was one of the luckiest men alive. He knew this too, and had allowed Jackie to maintain her integrity.
“Good morning Jackie. What a pleasant surprise!” Violet exclaimed. “What brings you down to here today?”
Jackie peered over the top of her magazine she was flicking through. “Oh hi Violet, didn’t see you come in. I’ve come for my weekly fix of celebrity gossip. Everything still on for tonight?”
“For now, yes. I may need a hand later, with food preparations. Would you be able to come over about three o’clock to help?” asked Violet.
“I would be delighted to. Its not every day something like this happens is it?” Jackie responded excitedly.
Violet raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. I just wish it didn’t have to be so, nerve-wracking. I must send this letter and pay this bill though.”
“And I must go drop this magazine home, and make myself presentable. I’ll see you at three then,” Jackie waved as she exited the post office.
Lauren, was a young cashier, who was a relative unknown in the village. However, her manager, Simon, was helping her on her first week, to introduce her to all the villagers as they came in. “A fine morning we have here, Violet,” his gravelly country tones boomed. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I’ve just come in to post a letter to my nephew, who’s already apologised for not being able to make the party this evening, and to also pay my gas bill. I have the statement here somewhere,” she began, hunting through her bag. “Found it. And who is this charming young lady?”
“This is Lauren, she’s new to the village and I’m teaching her about our different mannerisms, who is who, and how to treat people with respect.”
Simon’s voice boomed where Laurens was quiet and well-spoken.
“Hello. Violet is it? How may I be of service?”
“I would like one first-class stamp, for this letter,” Violet said, passing the letter through the counter, with the gas bill on top. “And also to pay this bill.”
“Ok my dear,” Simon explained. “How to deal with a bill, is we take our stamp, place it on the open space in the middle, and once more on the bottom half for the customer. Then we tear off the little strip along here,” he pointed at the dotted line, “and return the slip back.”
Lauren did as she was told. A little nervous, as this was her first time away from home, away from friends and family, but eager to learn.
“Ok Violet, that will be £25.23,” Lauren spoke out. A little quiet, but then repeated with a touch more volume and assertiveness.
Violet made a cheque out to the post office and passed it through. “Simon, could you explain to Lauren what is going on this evening, she’s more than welcome to come along to join in. After all, we are a community,” she echoed the words that Derek has said to her barely an hour earlier.
“Sure thing Vi,” he boomed. “I’ll be there myself, about seven.”
“Thank you for being so helpful. Will see you there,” Violet smiled.
Everything seemed to be falling nicely into place. Apart from the missing nephew, no-one had let her down yet, but the hard work was still to be done. With one more thing done, she headed off next door, to the small farm foods shop. They were in the countryside after all, how was it likely to be anything else?
Shopping list in hand, she picked up a basket and stepped inside. It didn’t take her long to find the items she needed, breadcrumbs for the breaded mushrooms, free range eggs for the salad, and a few pints of freshly made cows milk. Totting up the balance was Neville, a short-sighted, shy, slightly balding, white haired man, who had aged beyond his years. He was only forty-nine. People would have believed him and Derek got the wrong birth certificates with the contrast in looks.
“Just a small shop today Vi?” he asked.
“Yes Neville, just a few last minute bits. Are you coming along?” she answered.
“Try and stop me,” he chuckled. “I’ll be there at five with a bottle of white wine to chill in a bucket of ice.”
“Ok,” she replied, paying for her goods. “I’ll be sure to have the bucket of ice ready. See you later.”
As she set off back home, the rush hour traffic having dispersed and slowed to a trickle of cars coming through, the suns rays shone rather strongly. However, there was a relatively calming breeze, just right. Tranquil. Peaceful. Serene. Was there anything going to go wrong? She didn’t know. But it was all looking rosy. There were a few more golden, orange, and brown leaves falling off the trees, and also a hint of summer beginning to feel like it had come to an end.
Upon arrival home, she placed the milk and eggs in the door of the fridge, and the breadcrumbs were left on the kitchen worktop. It was about to get a little hectic in the kitchen so there was not really much point to put them away. So many things to make, but the most important was cooking the meat well. She turned on the oven, and allowed a few minutes for it to heat up. While doing so she settled for another cigarette in the porch. There seemed to be no stress but she was nervous and edgy still. What if they didn’t show? What if she got the dreaded call? So many things were playing on her mind, but with the cigarette she calmed back down again. Washing her hands, she placed the chicken onto a tray, with baking foil underneath it, and then into the oven. That would take a few hours, so she started preparing a few other little bits. Pastry for the quiche, mushrooms for the breadcrumbs to cover, a home-made pizza from scratch. Most of these little bits would need to be put in the oven around seven o’clock, but there was still a couple of bits to sort out.
A breeze blew the golden brown leaves down the pavement. It was early morning, and the rays of light were barely breaking the horizon. There was a little murmur of traffic as the commuters were starting to make their longer journeys from the tiny village to the various cities around. The early birds were delaying their songs, awaiting a little bit more light to filter through the darkened skies. Stars were shining, as there were no clouds. Some would have even considered it to be romantic, had it been at the other end of the day.
The room was spacious. A double bed lay right in the centre, draped in linen that was patterned with gold and silver squares. A bedside table, home of a lamp and an alarm clock. There was a little cupboard underneath, but that was a storage for all the important paperwork. Over in one of the corners, was a flat screen TV, all wired up to a digital box which was part of an ongoing monthly subscription for all available channels. To the right of the bed, was a door to an en-suite bathroom, with white tiled walls, chequered tiling on the floor, and a separate bath and shower facility.
So the alarm was bleeping. An idle hand rose up from under the covers, showing a sign of life. A few moments passed as this hand reached around to find the source of this continuous beeping, until finally it settled upon the alarm. Although tempted to use the snooze function, allowing an extra ten minutes each time it was pressed, this single hand decided otherwise, opting to completely turn the alarm off. Pulling the covers off, there was a slightly larger framed female specimen, a thirty-eight year old, with shoulder length brown hair. There was much to be anticipated today, and so much to get ready.
As the time seemed to drag slowly through the morning, the rays of sunlight filtered in through the east-facing window. The curtains were not open, but the light colouring of them allowed the sunlight to shine through, adding weight to the decision to wake up. Volume of traffic was always quite high, as there was only one route through this village to get to the cities, so the hustle and bustle of the cars passing through the neighbourhood began to make an increasing amount of noise. The woman rolled out of bed, tidying up the bedding as she did so, before stumbling across to open the curtains, yawning widely as she did so.
After a few moments of just embracing the start of a brand new day, she was initially in two minds. Coffee, or shower. She decided she was going to be different today, so she went over to her purse, and pulled a coin out. Ok, heads for coffee, tails for shower, she said to herself as she flipped the coin into the air. Letting it hit the cream coloured carpet, she watched it slowly come to a stop. It was tails. Seemed the fairest way for her to organise a choice of two different options, so she grabbed her towels and hopped in for a quick blast of freshening up.
Feeling more alert after her shower, she was able to notice that the intensity of the traffic flow was continuing to increase as rush hour was inching its way ever closer. Having flipped the coin to decide which she was going to do first, she knew what she was going to do next. Leaving the serenity of the well kept bedroom behind, she made her way down the hall, past one of the spare bedrooms, before descending the staircase. The uncarpeted wooden staircase was a little treacherous, some would say, but only if it wasn’t well looked after. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned right, into the rather large kitchen area, and filled up the kettle. Coffee was going to be key to her making it through today. There was a lot to do, but she was rather conscious of the time and, having thoroughly planned it all out in advance, it was just putting it all together at the right time.
The cupboard above the kettle was where they kept the mugs. There was an assembled assortment, a collection built up over a number of years, but today she opted to select her preferential favourite mug. It was red, just like her favourite dress that she had deliberately reserved for special occasions. Today was going to be no different. There were three jars on the side behind where the kettle was. All were labelled, one with Tea, one with Coffee, and one with Sugar. Picking out the Coffee and the Sugar jars, she grabbed a teaspoon out of the drawer under the toaster a little further along, and proceeded to take a spoonful of sugar, and a half-spoon of coffee. Black coffee was her style, especially first thing in the morning when she needed a boost.
She wasn’t much of a breakfast person. Today there was a slightly edgier feel, a little wave of anxiety, so eating breakfast was not at the forefront of her mind. Instead she made her way, coffee in hand, through past the bottom of the stairs, into the sitting-room. In the middle of this sitting-room sat a mahogany coffee table, varnished and rather tidy to look upon, with a couple of glass pane squares, bisected by another line of mahogany. There was a red three-piece suite, formed of a three seater settee, which was along a side wall, and two armchairs along the other. The layout of the room was a little haphazard, but she wasn’t too bothered about that. Not today. If there was anything wrong, she was anticipating it all being sorted over the coming days.
Sitting down in one of the armchairs, she leant forwards and, moving a coaster from just about in arms reach, to directly in front of her, she placed the coffee cup onto it. There was a little box down beside the chair she was sat in, which inside, had the plans listed as to what was to be done today. Opening the box, and pulling out this pre-planned itinerary, she began systematically taking the information in. There was a little bit of grocery shopping to be done, to assist with the preparation of food for the evening ahead, but there was also a few other things. The gas bill was due to be paid, along with sending a letter first-class. Both would have to wait until the post office was open. She also had invitations to hand around to village neighbours, and a list of a few numbers to dial to confirm if other family members were going to be able to make it or not.
Taking a sip of her morning coffee, she realised something was missing. She’d left her cigarettes upstairs. Making her way back up the wooden staircase, she had a brief look into the spare rooms to make sure everything was present and correct. Everything seemed to be in order, so she made her way to her bedroom, and found her cigarettes inside the pocket of her light blue jeans. Realising she’d not got a working lighter as her previous one had died, she began to panic slightly, but then remembered seeing a box of matches in the drawer with the cutlery.
Having located the cigarettes and matches, she picked up her coffee from the coaster in the sitting-room, before making her way to the porch at the back of the house. There was a bench in this porch, and a little shapely table, with an ashtray in place. Closing the door to the house to avoid any unnecessary smoke getting inside, she proceeded to light up. No sooner had she done so, than her phone began to ring. Frantically stubbing her cigarette out, she raced to get to the phone, only as she picked up, to hear a click as the person at the other end had hung up. With no way of figuring out who it was that had tried to dial, she put it down to a missed opportunity and returned to the porch. Re-lighting her cigarette, and gulping down her coffee which had now gone mildly tepid. As she finished her cigarette and opened the door, she heard the phone go again. This time, with the advantage of not having to open the door again, she made it to discover it was her younger brother.
“Hello, Violet here,” she answered in a slightly breathless voice.
“Hello my darling sister. Its Drake,” replied her brother.
“Oh, good, while you’re on the phone, are you going to be able to make it later?” she enquired a little more calmly.
“I should be there about six o’clock. Is there anything you need me to do?” he responded.
“I have it covered. If needed, I shall call you.”
“Ok sis, You take care, and I’ll catch you later.”
“Take care. Bye.”
A short conversation, but it allowed her to cross one person off of her list of people to speak to. But where was her itinerary? She didn’t remember having it out in the porch, nor was it likely to be upstairs where she’d got her cigarettes from. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Hurrying over to it, a little flustered, she opened the door to discover the village postman, Derek, was there with a small package in his hands.
Derek was a sprightly fellow. He had been delivering letters and parcels single-handedly round this village for thirty-five years now, and knew everyone by name. Even though people had come and gone, he was good with his memory still. To look at him, you wouldn’t have believed he had turned sixty just a year ago. He still had jet-black hair, all natural colouring, and the brightest blue eyes anyone could ever imagine. A stocky man, he had looked after himself well over the years, and could keep up with many a youngster on the pushbikes.
“Hello Derek. Do you need me to sign for this?” she asked, eying up the package he held.
“No Vi, no signature required for this one, it was just a little too big to fit through the letterbox that’s all,” he replied. “Are you excited for tonight?”
She looked at him apprehensively. “I’m excited, but I’m employing caution. I would like everything to go right, but there’s still a little seed of doubt that something could go wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of cautiousness. I hope I can make it, if these legs of mine allow me to arrive safely,” he replied, a cheeky grin spreading over his face.
“You’ll be fine, you’ve done so much for this community and you’re in good health yourself. Unlike us smokers you have a glow about you,” she said, remorsefully.
“I’ll see you here about seven then. What time are they due to arrive?”
“Sometime between seven-thirty and eight,” she opened the package while saying. “Oh, invitations! What a delight. Could you do me a small favour and pop these in on your way around?”
“Why most certainly Vi. We are a community and every little bit goes a long way. I shall be back later.”
“Don’t wear yourself out. I expect they would want to see everyone. You have a good day, and thank you Derek.”
“Not a problem Vi. Cheerio!”
That was two more things to cross off her list. Now where had she put it? She knew there was a gas bill to pay, and also a little bit of grocery shopping to do, but she was sure there was something else to do at the post office. She returned to the sitting-room, and there, on top of the box where it had been kept inside, was a small, folded, piece of paper. Sighing with relief, she walked over to it, and opened it out.
Derek, Drake. Two names to cross off. Invitations sent out, albeit with the help of Derek, but they were on their way. And scrolling through the list, she realised she’d forgotten to give Derek the letter. As she still had to go to the post office anyway, it wasn’t quite so bad.
Time was feeling like it was starting to go a bit quicker, so she carried her itinerary upstairs, and left it by her alarm clock as she got out a couple of things to pop on for the running around of the day. She wanted to get the shopping and post office out of the way so she could concentrate on confirming other arrivals and preparing the food. Putting on a short sleeved, navy blue t-shirt, and the light blue jeans, there was one small matter of her hair to organise. ‘It’s not important for now,’ she thought. ‘It’ll only need redoing later.” Spotting her gleaming white trainers in the corner, she put them on, got her keys, locked up and set off for the shops.
On arrival at the post office, with gas bill and letter in one hand, and grocery shopping list in the other, she happened to bump into her sister-in-law, Jackie. Jackie was thirty-three, had strawberry blonde hair, was five foot three, and had a figure that she could only read about in magazines. She was a sweet enough woman, and Violet had said that her brother Drake was one of the luckiest men alive. He knew this too, and had allowed Jackie to maintain her integrity.
“Good morning Jackie. What a pleasant surprise!” Violet exclaimed. “What brings you down to here today?”
Jackie peered over the top of her magazine she was flicking through. “Oh hi Violet, didn’t see you come in. I’ve come for my weekly fix of celebrity gossip. Everything still on for tonight?”
“For now, yes. I may need a hand later, with food preparations. Would you be able to come over about three o’clock to help?” asked Violet.
“I would be delighted to. Its not every day something like this happens is it?” Jackie responded excitedly.
Violet raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. I just wish it didn’t have to be so, nerve-wracking. I must send this letter and pay this bill though.”
“And I must go drop this magazine home, and make myself presentable. I’ll see you at three then,” Jackie waved as she exited the post office.
Lauren, was a young cashier, who was a relative unknown in the village. However, her manager, Simon, was helping her on her first week, to introduce her to all the villagers as they came in. “A fine morning we have here, Violet,” his gravelly country tones boomed. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I’ve just come in to post a letter to my nephew, who’s already apologised for not being able to make the party this evening, and to also pay my gas bill. I have the statement here somewhere,” she began, hunting through her bag. “Found it. And who is this charming young lady?”
“This is Lauren, she’s new to the village and I’m teaching her about our different mannerisms, who is who, and how to treat people with respect.”
Simon’s voice boomed where Laurens was quiet and well-spoken.
“Hello. Violet is it? How may I be of service?”
“I would like one first-class stamp, for this letter,” Violet said, passing the letter through the counter, with the gas bill on top. “And also to pay this bill.”
“Ok my dear,” Simon explained. “How to deal with a bill, is we take our stamp, place it on the open space in the middle, and once more on the bottom half for the customer. Then we tear off the little strip along here,” he pointed at the dotted line, “and return the slip back.”
Lauren did as she was told. A little nervous, as this was her first time away from home, away from friends and family, but eager to learn.
“Ok Violet, that will be £25.23,” Lauren spoke out. A little quiet, but then repeated with a touch more volume and assertiveness.
Violet made a cheque out to the post office and passed it through. “Simon, could you explain to Lauren what is going on this evening, she’s more than welcome to come along to join in. After all, we are a community,” she echoed the words that Derek has said to her barely an hour earlier.
“Sure thing Vi,” he boomed. “I’ll be there myself, about seven.”
“Thank you for being so helpful. Will see you there,” Violet smiled.
Everything seemed to be falling nicely into place. Apart from the missing nephew, no-one had let her down yet, but the hard work was still to be done. With one more thing done, she headed off next door, to the small farm foods shop. They were in the countryside after all, how was it likely to be anything else?
Shopping list in hand, she picked up a basket and stepped inside. It didn’t take her long to find the items she needed, breadcrumbs for the breaded mushrooms, free range eggs for the salad, and a few pints of freshly made cows milk. Totting up the balance was Neville, a short-sighted, shy, slightly balding, white haired man, who had aged beyond his years. He was only forty-nine. People would have believed him and Derek got the wrong birth certificates with the contrast in looks.
“Just a small shop today Vi?” he asked.
“Yes Neville, just a few last minute bits. Are you coming along?” she answered.
“Try and stop me,” he chuckled. “I’ll be there at five with a bottle of white wine to chill in a bucket of ice.”
“Ok,” she replied, paying for her goods. “I’ll be sure to have the bucket of ice ready. See you later.”
As she set off back home, the rush hour traffic having dispersed and slowed to a trickle of cars coming through, the suns rays shone rather strongly. However, there was a relatively calming breeze, just right. Tranquil. Peaceful. Serene. Was there anything going to go wrong? She didn’t know. But it was all looking rosy. There were a few more golden, orange, and brown leaves falling off the trees, and also a hint of summer beginning to feel like it had come to an end.
Upon arrival home, she placed the milk and eggs in the door of the fridge, and the breadcrumbs were left on the kitchen worktop. It was about to get a little hectic in the kitchen so there was not really much point to put them away. So many things to make, but the most important was cooking the meat well. She turned on the oven, and allowed a few minutes for it to heat up. While doing so she settled for another cigarette in the porch. There seemed to be no stress but she was nervous and edgy still. What if they didn’t show? What if she got the dreaded call? So many things were playing on her mind, but with the cigarette she calmed back down again. Washing her hands, she placed the chicken onto a tray, with baking foil underneath it, and then into the oven. That would take a few hours, so she started preparing a few other little bits. Pastry for the quiche, mushrooms for the breadcrumbs to cover, a home-made pizza from scratch. Most of these little bits would need to be put in the oven around seven o’clock, but there was still a couple of bits to sort out.
Sure, I'm not perfect, and never will I ever claim to be so.
But what is the deal with people who complain about things, only to find that they could have done something differently themselves.
Right - I get the point, I might be a touch flawed by this myself, but I need somewhere to vent it out, else it's not going to be healthy. And there may be points in this which people can say to me "But you do that too" - if you do - you clearly didn't pay attention. The opening line states I'm not perfect.
First thing I want to go into, is how I've seen a site I'm a member of lose my respect within 18 months of me being on it.
So, people complain about their situations on this site, and their varying levels of pain (be it physical, mental, emotional or otherwise). That's not a problem for me, but what I don't get, is if they looked at what they did - they'd be able to do a bit more about their own situation. The problem I find most commonplace, is the way that most of them conveniently overlook what they actually do, while comparing themselves to others all the more.
I am finding that there is also a slightly unhelpful nature about the way the site is set up. It's a message board/forum, however you describe it, but the emphasis is for pro-life. However, the set up is more aimed at venting and all kinds of negative feelings and emotions, with a minimal section set towards being life sourced. When people unfortunately pass away, there's more passed on and discussed about that, than there is about people being successfully able to manage their issues. There are moderators/admins there, but as a peer-to-peer support site, the regular members forget that they have issues and can be overbearing on them.
But then comes the issue of how interactions take place. Some criticise and have no substance to it, Some advise and get slated for trying to be helpful. But it's the written word, and sometimes, regardless of the fact that others actions are not their fault, being in certain situations can be avoided (ie, the drunk having a car-crash doesn't have to drive - but chose to do so, therefore consequences play a part).
Being honest kinda calls out a number of these situational behaviours, and a number of members there forget that they may mislead what they mean to other readers (as well as other readers reading it wrong). The written word can be misinterpreted easily, but people are quick to defend their own actions as being right rather than accepting a different view.
From the authority, to the members, this site I refer to smacks of desperation. People get too pent up having time to complain about things not going the way they want, although some experiences are not their fault as beyond their control, yet they fail to realise that they can do more. Looking at what they do, and changing what they can. After all, life is for living, we'll never get out of it alive. Those who just get on with things, are ones who complain less or are less vocal. Complaints don't solve situations. Actions do.
The second thing I am going to have a rant about is the way my own family are towards me. Now before I go too much into this, I don't want to be a complainer. It's merely venting frustrations at situations that have included me, but how others have acted towards/regarding me.
Yup - Family sucks at times. Of course, there are going to be differences, people are not completely identical - even identical siblings can be different in thought processes/actions. But really - am I completely stupid? Most would say academically no, socially, yes. That's fine by me.
But what is the world coming to, when families cannot think to communicate with each other properly. Recent events for me, suggest that I am now genetically carrying a disorder called Haemochromatosis (the UK spelling, because that's where I am). But I'm responsible for not telling my siblings - yup. It took me 5 months from having a blood test done to be confirmed that I do indeed have it. But through venesection therapy, of which I am currently on fortnightly removals of 600mls of blood, they hope to reduce the iron content in my blood.
So I'm getting my head around this - not a problem. My sister has accompanied me to the hospital twice, in the event of potential dizziness/passing out (and a lift to save me walking home - bonus).
When I went to the hospital, for my 2nd venesection, my dear sister thought to put it on facebook, tagging me in it. Not harping on about the floor (she got that wrong but that's not the issue). The instant attention was on her (she's over halfway through a pregnancy by this point), again, not a problem, but if anyone truly knew what really happens - if she was at the hospital and I was anywhere, i'd be more likely to be with her kids. No-one thinks to even consider it.
Yet - where this goes a bit weird and strange, is that even after being told via the comments section on that post of "Where we were", that my eldest brothers wife, could not be bothered (put mildly) to use the very same method of communication (ie, facebook), to contact me directly, after finding out that it was about me. Further enraging me when I later discover that the same sister-in-law is annoyed (however slight) that I didn't tell them about it. What the fuck? No-one asks me directly how I am, they go through other people. And then they get all annoyed when they don't find out things from me that could concern other people.
And that brings me on to my eldest brothers own involvement. Again - he contacted our sister with regards to what was going on (he saw it on Facebook too I would presume). But when told it was about me - even he couldn't come up with a believable excuse.. "Oh I didn't know if your phone was on" - fuck the phone, it's about me, you have a way to contact me but you don't bother. What makes this more appalling is, he knows I live back with mum, but he can't even go through her, he goes through our sister which then leads me to phoning him.
I'm recently diagnosed with this genetic condition, and i'm made to feel like I should tell everyone about it the minute I find out. Fuck off. Let me get my head around it, and what it does to me while I learn more about the processes/procedures that go with it. Oh wait. I'm not allowed to do that without being made out to be a problem. And then my mum wonders why I keep myself to myself (often holed up in my bedroom), and puts my tiredness down to not doing enough.. hang on, it's a possible symptom of the condition, but I don't harp on about it. Not to mention being in a hot spell weather wise (my town - the last week or so has been 25C+, and its too hot for me.. I prefer cooler/even wetter climates, because I can layer up), which I can clearly do nothing about, but i'm not fond of it.
Yup - that's just one side. Now for a rant about my mum (a rarity, but there are things I disagree with her on).
Anyone ever heard the phrase “Do as I say, not as I do?” I sure remember hearing that a few times whenever I did something that I wasn’t quite meant to, be it in a workplace (doing the exact same as a manager would, and I’d get told off for doing so), or at home if I did something that wasn’t expected of me that my parents did themselves that they considered a bit too ‘mature’ for me.
Little background - Dad walked out on mum/me/my sister when I was 12. I was kicked out by mum in Jan ‘07, taken back in the July rather than being left to be on the streets (I’d been kicked out by a hostel, couldn’t get much lower than street living at that time). I moved out properly end of Feb ‘10, with my mum complaining about how I’d let her down financially (more on that later), but through circumstances at work (me going AWOL and suffering depression/not getting paid properly), I had to move back end of May ‘12.
In the last 14 months I no longer have my job, through the depression/self-harming risks/danger to others “thoughts” I was having. (I was working in a hotel kitchen as a porter, so the access to multiple dangerous objects/liquids as well as multiple people), and have also been diagnosed with Genetic Haemochromatosis. But I’m not looking to make excuses, I’m looking to oust some truth to the title I’ve used.
I’m getting moaned at. OK, so I don’t work, and in theory, I should do more housework to balance the fact that I live with my mum and she works. But what she doesn’t realise, is that there are points in time she will do the exact same thing she criticised of me/my sister. She recently got a new phone contract out, in the guise of iPhone 4 in order to play similar games to that of what me/my sister play (I have iPhone 3, my sis has iPhone 5). And also has set up a Facebook account in order to connect with family/friends/people known, but an able aid to playing these apps as well.
More so since these later additions, I’m finding that she is being a touch hypocritical. Ok so while I’m doing very little (I used to go places on my own, I rarely do that now, I used to play music/sing, don’t do much of that), she has a right to vent about that. But what I don’t understand is why she does it, then proceeds to do just as little herself (which I find rather offensive). Some would say I need to bite the bullet and respect my elders, but this smacks of the hypocrisy of my opening line - “Do as I say, not as I do”. It’s ok for her to work and be housework lazy, but it’s not ok for me not to work and do the same. And yet, there I was, also encouraged to treat people as I would like to be treated… Don’t the two quotes contradict themselves?
Maybe I know a lot more than my own mother expects.
But then we have some similarities. People don’t usually get in touch with us, we have to make the first move on the majority of occasions. To get where she has, she’s had to fight through a number of things, and for me, I’ve had to fight to be included in things too. Perhaps we are borne of the same issue, hers was just a year later, where we changed schools to points of knowing people to knowing no-one and having to start from scratch, fighting to be included, or fighting just to get somewhere/do something. But does that really give her the right to act in one way, then bitch about me not doing things “her way” because I live under “her roof” as she is “the parent”. Her way isn’t always going to be the right way, and I found a slight sense of freedom when I did move out. Not having a job isn’t going to help that, but can anyone see the angle of where my frustration is?
“Respect your mother, without her you’d be on the streets like a hobo” - yeah, don’t remind me….
“Respect your elders,” - ok, elders who allowed the cane to be dropped from schools and the resulting lack of discipline throughout following generations is all too apparent.
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” - I don’t treat people badly, not on purpose. But I guess my oldest brother was right, I am better off not living with my mum as I get sucked into being her “puppet” in situations of me not being in work.
And that brings me back to the money issue.
She makes it clear on so many occasions that because she works and I don’t, she’s paying for everything. (Ok, there’s more food being bought because there’s 2 of us, and overall, more gas/electric/water being used), but really… if I rewind back to 2009 when I got the job I’ve recently left (I was on the books for just over 4 years there) - I started of 40 hours a week, 2 months or so, fine, then I got pushed up to 80 in one week, followed by 55 hour weeks (most weeks for the next 7 months, reflected in paypackets).
But her own debts were out of control at that point… (she wasn’t bringing enough home to cover half the household bills and her debts). I had to plug that gap, and overall lose a good £200+ per month because of this - before the food shopping came into it. But if I brought that up, she’d refuse to acknowledge that and all the times I did petty theft (and yes I’m not completely clear of doing that - I know it’s part of my past that I do not wish to go back to), she’d bring that all up and throw it in my face. She’s often brought up money issues, and I did make a point (however harsh it may have seemed), that it was her choice to offer me the place to move back into. She didn’t have to help me out - she did so because again she didn’t want to see me on the streets.
She can be just as lazy - no housework really do I see her doing (bar washing up/washing/occasional cooking), she'll sit watching TV/playing games on her phone/laptop. Oh wait, she's moaned to me about the laptop, both me and my sister for being on our phones... hypocrisy much?
She’s my mum after all, and I do love her, but I wish she’d just stop trying to make points that she’s not following through herself (or doing what she’s moaned about in the past).
I'm sure there's more that I can go into, but this is rant number 1 - of more than one (obviously)
But what is the deal with people who complain about things, only to find that they could have done something differently themselves.
Right - I get the point, I might be a touch flawed by this myself, but I need somewhere to vent it out, else it's not going to be healthy. And there may be points in this which people can say to me "But you do that too" - if you do - you clearly didn't pay attention. The opening line states I'm not perfect.
First thing I want to go into, is how I've seen a site I'm a member of lose my respect within 18 months of me being on it.
So, people complain about their situations on this site, and their varying levels of pain (be it physical, mental, emotional or otherwise). That's not a problem for me, but what I don't get, is if they looked at what they did - they'd be able to do a bit more about their own situation. The problem I find most commonplace, is the way that most of them conveniently overlook what they actually do, while comparing themselves to others all the more.
I am finding that there is also a slightly unhelpful nature about the way the site is set up. It's a message board/forum, however you describe it, but the emphasis is for pro-life. However, the set up is more aimed at venting and all kinds of negative feelings and emotions, with a minimal section set towards being life sourced. When people unfortunately pass away, there's more passed on and discussed about that, than there is about people being successfully able to manage their issues. There are moderators/admins there, but as a peer-to-peer support site, the regular members forget that they have issues and can be overbearing on them.
But then comes the issue of how interactions take place. Some criticise and have no substance to it, Some advise and get slated for trying to be helpful. But it's the written word, and sometimes, regardless of the fact that others actions are not their fault, being in certain situations can be avoided (ie, the drunk having a car-crash doesn't have to drive - but chose to do so, therefore consequences play a part).
Being honest kinda calls out a number of these situational behaviours, and a number of members there forget that they may mislead what they mean to other readers (as well as other readers reading it wrong). The written word can be misinterpreted easily, but people are quick to defend their own actions as being right rather than accepting a different view.
From the authority, to the members, this site I refer to smacks of desperation. People get too pent up having time to complain about things not going the way they want, although some experiences are not their fault as beyond their control, yet they fail to realise that they can do more. Looking at what they do, and changing what they can. After all, life is for living, we'll never get out of it alive. Those who just get on with things, are ones who complain less or are less vocal. Complaints don't solve situations. Actions do.
The second thing I am going to have a rant about is the way my own family are towards me. Now before I go too much into this, I don't want to be a complainer. It's merely venting frustrations at situations that have included me, but how others have acted towards/regarding me.
Yup - Family sucks at times. Of course, there are going to be differences, people are not completely identical - even identical siblings can be different in thought processes/actions. But really - am I completely stupid? Most would say academically no, socially, yes. That's fine by me.
But what is the world coming to, when families cannot think to communicate with each other properly. Recent events for me, suggest that I am now genetically carrying a disorder called Haemochromatosis (the UK spelling, because that's where I am). But I'm responsible for not telling my siblings - yup. It took me 5 months from having a blood test done to be confirmed that I do indeed have it. But through venesection therapy, of which I am currently on fortnightly removals of 600mls of blood, they hope to reduce the iron content in my blood.
So I'm getting my head around this - not a problem. My sister has accompanied me to the hospital twice, in the event of potential dizziness/passing out (and a lift to save me walking home - bonus).
When I went to the hospital, for my 2nd venesection, my dear sister thought to put it on facebook, tagging me in it. Not harping on about the floor (she got that wrong but that's not the issue). The instant attention was on her (she's over halfway through a pregnancy by this point), again, not a problem, but if anyone truly knew what really happens - if she was at the hospital and I was anywhere, i'd be more likely to be with her kids. No-one thinks to even consider it.
Yet - where this goes a bit weird and strange, is that even after being told via the comments section on that post of "Where we were", that my eldest brothers wife, could not be bothered (put mildly) to use the very same method of communication (ie, facebook), to contact me directly, after finding out that it was about me. Further enraging me when I later discover that the same sister-in-law is annoyed (however slight) that I didn't tell them about it. What the fuck? No-one asks me directly how I am, they go through other people. And then they get all annoyed when they don't find out things from me that could concern other people.
And that brings me on to my eldest brothers own involvement. Again - he contacted our sister with regards to what was going on (he saw it on Facebook too I would presume). But when told it was about me - even he couldn't come up with a believable excuse.. "Oh I didn't know if your phone was on" - fuck the phone, it's about me, you have a way to contact me but you don't bother. What makes this more appalling is, he knows I live back with mum, but he can't even go through her, he goes through our sister which then leads me to phoning him.
I'm recently diagnosed with this genetic condition, and i'm made to feel like I should tell everyone about it the minute I find out. Fuck off. Let me get my head around it, and what it does to me while I learn more about the processes/procedures that go with it. Oh wait. I'm not allowed to do that without being made out to be a problem. And then my mum wonders why I keep myself to myself (often holed up in my bedroom), and puts my tiredness down to not doing enough.. hang on, it's a possible symptom of the condition, but I don't harp on about it. Not to mention being in a hot spell weather wise (my town - the last week or so has been 25C+, and its too hot for me.. I prefer cooler/even wetter climates, because I can layer up), which I can clearly do nothing about, but i'm not fond of it.
Yup - that's just one side. Now for a rant about my mum (a rarity, but there are things I disagree with her on).
Anyone ever heard the phrase “Do as I say, not as I do?” I sure remember hearing that a few times whenever I did something that I wasn’t quite meant to, be it in a workplace (doing the exact same as a manager would, and I’d get told off for doing so), or at home if I did something that wasn’t expected of me that my parents did themselves that they considered a bit too ‘mature’ for me.
Little background - Dad walked out on mum/me/my sister when I was 12. I was kicked out by mum in Jan ‘07, taken back in the July rather than being left to be on the streets (I’d been kicked out by a hostel, couldn’t get much lower than street living at that time). I moved out properly end of Feb ‘10, with my mum complaining about how I’d let her down financially (more on that later), but through circumstances at work (me going AWOL and suffering depression/not getting paid properly), I had to move back end of May ‘12.
In the last 14 months I no longer have my job, through the depression/self-harming risks/danger to others “thoughts” I was having. (I was working in a hotel kitchen as a porter, so the access to multiple dangerous objects/liquids as well as multiple people), and have also been diagnosed with Genetic Haemochromatosis. But I’m not looking to make excuses, I’m looking to oust some truth to the title I’ve used.
I’m getting moaned at. OK, so I don’t work, and in theory, I should do more housework to balance the fact that I live with my mum and she works. But what she doesn’t realise, is that there are points in time she will do the exact same thing she criticised of me/my sister. She recently got a new phone contract out, in the guise of iPhone 4 in order to play similar games to that of what me/my sister play (I have iPhone 3, my sis has iPhone 5). And also has set up a Facebook account in order to connect with family/friends/people known, but an able aid to playing these apps as well.
More so since these later additions, I’m finding that she is being a touch hypocritical. Ok so while I’m doing very little (I used to go places on my own, I rarely do that now, I used to play music/sing, don’t do much of that), she has a right to vent about that. But what I don’t understand is why she does it, then proceeds to do just as little herself (which I find rather offensive). Some would say I need to bite the bullet and respect my elders, but this smacks of the hypocrisy of my opening line - “Do as I say, not as I do”. It’s ok for her to work and be housework lazy, but it’s not ok for me not to work and do the same. And yet, there I was, also encouraged to treat people as I would like to be treated… Don’t the two quotes contradict themselves?
Maybe I know a lot more than my own mother expects.
But then we have some similarities. People don’t usually get in touch with us, we have to make the first move on the majority of occasions. To get where she has, she’s had to fight through a number of things, and for me, I’ve had to fight to be included in things too. Perhaps we are borne of the same issue, hers was just a year later, where we changed schools to points of knowing people to knowing no-one and having to start from scratch, fighting to be included, or fighting just to get somewhere/do something. But does that really give her the right to act in one way, then bitch about me not doing things “her way” because I live under “her roof” as she is “the parent”. Her way isn’t always going to be the right way, and I found a slight sense of freedom when I did move out. Not having a job isn’t going to help that, but can anyone see the angle of where my frustration is?
“Respect your mother, without her you’d be on the streets like a hobo” - yeah, don’t remind me….
“Respect your elders,” - ok, elders who allowed the cane to be dropped from schools and the resulting lack of discipline throughout following generations is all too apparent.
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” - I don’t treat people badly, not on purpose. But I guess my oldest brother was right, I am better off not living with my mum as I get sucked into being her “puppet” in situations of me not being in work.
And that brings me back to the money issue.
She makes it clear on so many occasions that because she works and I don’t, she’s paying for everything. (Ok, there’s more food being bought because there’s 2 of us, and overall, more gas/electric/water being used), but really… if I rewind back to 2009 when I got the job I’ve recently left (I was on the books for just over 4 years there) - I started of 40 hours a week, 2 months or so, fine, then I got pushed up to 80 in one week, followed by 55 hour weeks (most weeks for the next 7 months, reflected in paypackets).
But her own debts were out of control at that point… (she wasn’t bringing enough home to cover half the household bills and her debts). I had to plug that gap, and overall lose a good £200+ per month because of this - before the food shopping came into it. But if I brought that up, she’d refuse to acknowledge that and all the times I did petty theft (and yes I’m not completely clear of doing that - I know it’s part of my past that I do not wish to go back to), she’d bring that all up and throw it in my face. She’s often brought up money issues, and I did make a point (however harsh it may have seemed), that it was her choice to offer me the place to move back into. She didn’t have to help me out - she did so because again she didn’t want to see me on the streets.
She can be just as lazy - no housework really do I see her doing (bar washing up/washing/occasional cooking), she'll sit watching TV/playing games on her phone/laptop. Oh wait, she's moaned to me about the laptop, both me and my sister for being on our phones... hypocrisy much?
She’s my mum after all, and I do love her, but I wish she’d just stop trying to make points that she’s not following through herself (or doing what she’s moaned about in the past).
I'm sure there's more that I can go into, but this is rant number 1 - of more than one (obviously)
- Current Mood:irritable
Anyone ever heard the phrase “Do as I say, not as I do?” I sure remember hearing that a few times whenever I did something that I wasn’t quite meant to, be it in a workplace (doing the exact same as a manager would, and I’d get told off for doing so), or at home if I did something that wasn’t expected of me that my parents did themselves that they considered a bit too ‘mature’ for me.
Little background - Dad walked out on mum/me/my sister when I was 12. I was kicked out by mum in Jan ‘07, taken back in the July rather than being left to be on the streets (I’d been kicked out by a hostel, couldn’t get much lower than street living at that time). I moved out properly end of Feb ‘10, with my mum complaining about how I’d let her down financially (more on that later), but through circumstances at work (me going AWOL and suffering depression/not getting paid properly), I had to move back end of May ‘12.
In the last 14 months I no longer have my job, through the depression/self-harming risks/danger to others “thoughts” I was having. (I was working in a hotel kitchen as a porter, so the access to multiple dangerous objects/liquids as well as multiple people), and have also been diagnosed with Genetic Haemochromatosis. But I’m not looking to make excuses, I’m looking to oust some truth to the title I’ve used.
I’m getting moaned at. OK, so I don’t work, and in theory, I should do more housework to balance the fact that I live with my mum and she works. But what she doesn’t realise, is that there are points in time she will do the exact same thing she criticised of me/my sister. She recently got a new phone contract out, in the guise of iPhone 4 in order to play similar games to that of what me/my sister play (I have iPhone 3, my sis has iPhone 5). And also has set up a Facebook account in order to connect with family/friends/people known, but an able aid to playing these apps as well.
More so since these later additions, I’m finding that she is being a touch hypocritical. Ok so while I’m doing very little (I used to go places on my own, I rarely do that now, I used to play music/sing, don’t do much of that), she has a right to vent about that. But what I don’t understand is why she does it, then proceeds to do just as little herself (which I find rather offensive). Some would say I need to bite the bullet and respect my elders, but this smacks of the hypocrisy of my opening line - “Do as I say, not as I do”. It’s ok for her to work and be housework lazy, but it’s not ok for me not to work and do the same. And yet, there I was, also encouraged to treat people as I would like to be treated… Don’t the two quotes contradict themselves?
Maybe I know a lot more than my own mother expects.
But then we have some similarities. People don’t usually get in touch with us, we have to make the first move on the majority of occasions. To get where she has, she’s had to fight through a number of things, and for me, I’ve had to fight to be included in things too. Perhaps we are borne of the same issue, hers was just a year later, where we changed schools to points of knowing people to knowing no-one and having to start from scratch, fighting to be included, or fighting just to get somewhere/do something. But does that really give her the right to act in one way, then bitch about me not doing things “her way” because I live under “her roof” as she is “the parent”. Her way isn’t always going to be the right way, and I found a slight sense of freedom when I did move out. Not having a job isn’t going to help that, but can anyone see the angle of where my frustration is?
“Respect your mother, without her you’d be on the streets like a hobo” - yeah, don’t remind me….
“Respect your elders,” - ok, elders who allowed the cane to be dropped from schools and the resulting lack of discipline throughout following generations is all too apparent.
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” - I don’t treat people badly, not on purpose. But I guess my oldest brother was right, I am better off not living with my mum as I get sucked into being her “puppet” in situations of me not being in work.
And that brings me back to the money issue.
She makes it clear on so many occasions that because she works and I don’t, she’s paying for everything. (Ok, there’s more food being bought because there’s 2 of us, and overall, more gas/electric/water being used), but really… if I rewind back to 2009 when I got the job I’ve recently left (I was on the books for just over 4 years there) - I started of 40 hours a week, 2 months or so, fine, then I got pushed up to 80 in one week, followed by 55 hour weeks (most weeks for the next 7 months, reflected in paypackets).
But her own debts were out of control at that point… (she wasn’t bringing enough home to cover half the household bills and her debts). I had to plug that gap, and overall lose a good £200+ per month because of this - before the food shopping came into it. But if I brought that up, she’d refuse to acknowledge that and all the times I did petty theft (and yes I’m not completely clear of doing that - I know it’s part of my past that I do not wish to go back to), she’d bring that all up and throw it in my face. She’s often brought up money issues, and I did make a point (however harsh it may have seemed), that it was her choice to offer me the place to move back into. She didn’t have to help me out - she did so because again she didn’t want to see me on the streets.
She’s my mum after all, and I do love her, but I wish she’d just stop trying to make points that she’s not following through herself (or doing what she’s moaned about in the past).
Little background - Dad walked out on mum/me/my sister when I was 12. I was kicked out by mum in Jan ‘07, taken back in the July rather than being left to be on the streets (I’d been kicked out by a hostel, couldn’t get much lower than street living at that time). I moved out properly end of Feb ‘10, with my mum complaining about how I’d let her down financially (more on that later), but through circumstances at work (me going AWOL and suffering depression/not getting paid properly), I had to move back end of May ‘12.
In the last 14 months I no longer have my job, through the depression/self-harming risks/danger to others “thoughts” I was having. (I was working in a hotel kitchen as a porter, so the access to multiple dangerous objects/liquids as well as multiple people), and have also been diagnosed with Genetic Haemochromatosis. But I’m not looking to make excuses, I’m looking to oust some truth to the title I’ve used.
I’m getting moaned at. OK, so I don’t work, and in theory, I should do more housework to balance the fact that I live with my mum and she works. But what she doesn’t realise, is that there are points in time she will do the exact same thing she criticised of me/my sister. She recently got a new phone contract out, in the guise of iPhone 4 in order to play similar games to that of what me/my sister play (I have iPhone 3, my sis has iPhone 5). And also has set up a Facebook account in order to connect with family/friends/people known, but an able aid to playing these apps as well.
More so since these later additions, I’m finding that she is being a touch hypocritical. Ok so while I’m doing very little (I used to go places on my own, I rarely do that now, I used to play music/sing, don’t do much of that), she has a right to vent about that. But what I don’t understand is why she does it, then proceeds to do just as little herself (which I find rather offensive). Some would say I need to bite the bullet and respect my elders, but this smacks of the hypocrisy of my opening line - “Do as I say, not as I do”. It’s ok for her to work and be housework lazy, but it’s not ok for me not to work and do the same. And yet, there I was, also encouraged to treat people as I would like to be treated… Don’t the two quotes contradict themselves?
Maybe I know a lot more than my own mother expects.
But then we have some similarities. People don’t usually get in touch with us, we have to make the first move on the majority of occasions. To get where she has, she’s had to fight through a number of things, and for me, I’ve had to fight to be included in things too. Perhaps we are borne of the same issue, hers was just a year later, where we changed schools to points of knowing people to knowing no-one and having to start from scratch, fighting to be included, or fighting just to get somewhere/do something. But does that really give her the right to act in one way, then bitch about me not doing things “her way” because I live under “her roof” as she is “the parent”. Her way isn’t always going to be the right way, and I found a slight sense of freedom when I did move out. Not having a job isn’t going to help that, but can anyone see the angle of where my frustration is?
“Respect your mother, without her you’d be on the streets like a hobo” - yeah, don’t remind me….
“Respect your elders,” - ok, elders who allowed the cane to be dropped from schools and the resulting lack of discipline throughout following generations is all too apparent.
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” - I don’t treat people badly, not on purpose. But I guess my oldest brother was right, I am better off not living with my mum as I get sucked into being her “puppet” in situations of me not being in work.
And that brings me back to the money issue.
She makes it clear on so many occasions that because she works and I don’t, she’s paying for everything. (Ok, there’s more food being bought because there’s 2 of us, and overall, more gas/electric/water being used), but really… if I rewind back to 2009 when I got the job I’ve recently left (I was on the books for just over 4 years there) - I started of 40 hours a week, 2 months or so, fine, then I got pushed up to 80 in one week, followed by 55 hour weeks (most weeks for the next 7 months, reflected in paypackets).
But her own debts were out of control at that point… (she wasn’t bringing enough home to cover half the household bills and her debts). I had to plug that gap, and overall lose a good £200+ per month because of this - before the food shopping came into it. But if I brought that up, she’d refuse to acknowledge that and all the times I did petty theft (and yes I’m not completely clear of doing that - I know it’s part of my past that I do not wish to go back to), she’d bring that all up and throw it in my face. She’s often brought up money issues, and I did make a point (however harsh it may have seemed), that it was her choice to offer me the place to move back into. She didn’t have to help me out - she did so because again she didn’t want to see me on the streets.
She’s my mum after all, and I do love her, but I wish she’d just stop trying to make points that she’s not following through herself (or doing what she’s moaned about in the past).
- Current Mood:
frustrated
This seems so realistic - it could be a mix of autobiographical/biographical.
Either that - or I am just highly creative
Chapter 1
Clothes were scattered across the front of a fireplace. The cast iron fireplace, which had a penchant for having occasional moments of releasing soot, was just as dusty as it had been for the last 9 months. The rest of the room wasn’t much to look at either, cigarette ash just laying around the leaf-coloured carpet, a few empty soda cans and bottles were also just disorganised in the mess. Yes, this room belonged to a male, average height, slim build, a mop of untidy hair, and glasses. He was in his late 20’s, and had been up all night once again. This seemed to be something of a recent routine change. His only joy’s were being half swamped by his inability to tap into creative juices, with a keyboard one side, an acoustic guitar the other, and a studio of a laptop resting on his knees while he was perched upon the bottom end of his sofa-bed. Primarily left laid out as a bed, this furnishing had come equipped with a beanbag and a sleeping bag.
On top of a bookcase in the far corner – proudly stood a picture. The young man was involved in the fortunate chance at grasping what life could really be about, being a father, yet these were distant memories as his son in question would be 7 by now. Taking a slurp of coffee, he was adamant that he was going to force his way through the day on the intake of caffeine alone. Yet every moment that he took a breath, he found himself thinking solely about the moment that he gave it all up. All because he was too selfish and ignorant to realise there was a way around it. He’d given up on being a father before his son was even 2. Regrets come and go, but this young man felt disgruntled by his own procrastination, and yet seeming capabilities to give reasonable advice to other people who could have lived in either the next room, or halfway around the world, for a multitude of problems, or even just being a bit of a joker, he was struggling to find a way to incorporate that into his own life.
The rumble of traffic flowing right outside the house he resided in, was starting to show signs of increasing. After all, it was a wet Thursday morning, at the start of May, generalised as routine British weather. The weather itself was deciding to project a similar mood to what this young man was feeling inside. Miserable. It had barely been 3 weeks, since the most recent partner he’d had, had decided to call time on the relationship. This was only a short 6 week romance, but the ending was something that wasn’t particularly pleasant. Typed text, in a private message through an online chatroom where the two had originally met, was not inclined to be nice.
Even the solitary distraction from self-destruction, the musical creativity that he had been able to produce, had dried up. Of course he wanted to share it with all who would listen, but yet he felt like the enjoyment of such an activity was on very thin ground. There had been a few beginners luck pieces of completely different styles to what he had originally been working with, but as with lyricists having writers-block, he’d hit his own brick wall.
So things weren’t going quite as he had hoped for. The start of a new year had only brought about 2 relapses into a state of mind that is diagnosed as depression. He was seeking new ways to handle his internal emotional conflicts, be it a new implement to use to recreate the emotional pain in a physical format. Or even toying with the idea of walking in front of the oncoming traffic, perhaps at a slightly busier time than current volume was suggesting. Had a mid-life crisis come early? Was he just a coward? Or was there more to it than what he was letting on.
*********************
Reminders of the previous two births, hadn’t given in to what was expected this time around. Sure there had been two boys, and this was anticipated at being a third, but there had been a time, and a miscarriage, which had come ever so close to not even breaking the start of this potential story. Yet the more the two parents talked, there was an increase in determination to try and at least provide one sister so there was one of each gender of offspring. The age gap between the elder two brothers was a pretty much perfect 2.5 years, which, by the time the third bundle of baby joy was born, had opened up 4.5 years or so between the newborn and the younger one of these two older brothers. Yes a miscarriage had happened in between times, but even that would have left a 2-2.5 year age gap in between all kids in order.
It was a late December evening, a Thursday at that, when contractions started getting stronger and more regular. This couldn’t be right, the parents were thinking, although their previous two sons had been born first one week early, the second eight days early. There was still twelve days to go until this one was due. Surely not now, not with Christmas day just five days away. Fate had decreed that this would not be messed with. With these contractions every two minutes apart, and having passed through into the early hours of the following morning, there was not really much time left. This baby boy was going to be early, and somewhat eleven days early. The date on the calendar was December 21st, 1984, and as they turned up at the hospital, it wasn’t going to be a matter of days. It was a matter of hours, as the dilation was already at 7cm. 3 more to go, and waters would break.
The immediate family was there, grandad, two grandmas, clearly mum and dad, along with a number of uncles and aunts, a 7 year old scruffy haired action man favouring young man, and a 4.5 year old who was always asking questions, about the baby, where did they come from, and grandad decided to take the youngsters away from the delivery room. Grandad was always a bundle of fun, although he had no teeth, he could sure show people up when it came to eating times. The clock was ticking in the background, but it hadn’t got too far into the morning when the midwife was called, and from that moment on she never left the side of the happy couple until the birth was complete. The time, was all even numbers, and would come in handy many years down the line. 6:42am, on that date, Friday, December 21st, there lay the third little bundle of baby boy joy. This one was the lightest of the three boys at birth, weighing in at a little under 6lb. The birth weight was acknowledged to be 5lb 13.5oz, the extra 0.5oz proving that there wasn’t 3lbs between this one and the oldest (who had been acknowledged at a birth weight of 8lb 13oz).
*********************
Getting into music wasn’t going to be particularly difficult for this young man. He was already into learning the shapes of chords on a guitar, as dad had played this for many years, even playing a few live shows around the local town with a pianist friend of his from work. Albeit there was only a handful of piano lessons, at last count, just ten, this self enthused musician was going to develop his playing habits away from personal teachings. At the tender age of just 15, in the summer term of the year 2000, this young man actually jotted down some words to which he thought he would be able to put music. The date, May 22nd, which coincided with one of his older brothers birthdays.
So it barely took any time to put some basic chord patterns together, or a retrospectively basic melody line to fit these words into a song, but this young man had taken a game for his Sony Playstation, entitled Music 2000, and pieced it all together musically. All it needed was a recording and this was encouraged at school. Recorded to a PC, and then a couple of copies were burnt to a CD. Even though it had taken a little while and a bit of extra musical teaching knowledge, by the end of that summer term, this young man had created his very first song.
In keeping with the musical theme, he was asked to perform this very song, at an open evening for parents of children who were potentially looking to send their children to this school, parents of 10/11 year olds. The room was almost seated to capacity, with over 300 people present, and a little makeshift stage of two drama blocks were drafted in to aid performers. A number of jokes were made about this, as the young man had taken a step too far back, it was made out to sound like he’d fallen off this stage, when the reality was, the stage didn’t go far enough back and he felt the step down. Being a complete novice and newcomer to the art of performing for such a sizeable audience, he felt obliged to maintain closed eyes throughout, as the nerves would have encapsulated him and made him laugh instead.
Chapter 2
Having been born – December 21st 1984, those eleven days early, this young man had decided to make a statement to the world. He was premature, and his birthday would be the signal for last-gasp panic-buying of Christmas based gifts for a number of people. Yes, he was that year’s Christmas present, and with the age gap of 4.5 years to the younger of his two older brothers, there would be a few cases of differences of opinion.
As previously mentioned, the oldest of his brothers had been born at a starting weight of 8lb 13oz, in comparison to his relatively average 5lb 13.5oz. However, a record of weights up until both of them were 3 months old, the young man had been keen to make up for lost time. At the tender age of 3 months old, both of them had been recorded at being 20lbs. Astonishing as it may sound, this young man never seemed to show any facet of being overweight, and even in his late 20s, is still struggling to bypass 168lbs.
After a year where there were plenty of firsts, first smile, first nappy change, first eating of solid foods, even down to first steps, there was already something different about him to his brothers. Yes he would have to be slightly different, but through the power of Channel 4 and their readymade quiz show Countdown, he was fast learning at least the capitalised version of the letters of the alphabet, and also the numbers 1-10. The other numbers were a little way off at this point, but by the time he was 2, he was able to count to the then magic 100. While potty training, while mum was even having a bath, he would then begin to learn his times tables alongside the nursery rhymes. So much so, that even through nursery, he was already ahead of the other kids in the maths department. Everything else seemed to be nothing more than average, but the numbers really did set him apart. Then the summer holidays ended, and he was making his first steps into the world of education.
*********************
Ok, so he’d managed to successfully write his first piece of music at the tender age of 15. This actively contributed to his development within the taught subject of music for his age level qualification, he managed to obtain the second highest grade available to him. He was mightily impressed, given that he had mucked about a fair bit with one of the other students, seemingly wasting time. Lethargy had crept in a little since the start of the academic year of his first song, but there was something rather pivotal, which could have been a reason for the derailment from the willingness to learn and be the best.
That December, on his birthday, he’d been looking to obtain a piece of personal development musical equipment. However, with mum only paying £80 towards the cost of the keyboard he had initially wanted to get, he realised he would have to stump up the other £50 to be able to get it. Luck however was on his side at this moment in time. Through the fact both his brothers were working, and numerous aunts/uncles were still in touch, there was sufficient monetary gifts which enabled him to get it. Quite remarkably, even though the box from which this keyboard was originally kept inside has disappeared, this very same keyboard bought at the age of 16, is still in his possession. Even though it’s been in his possession for 11 years and more, it still works, and is in tune.
*********************
He woke up one bright morning, strange circumstances for late November, but today was going to be a big day. Having been monitored by a few opticians and doctors alike, it had been discovered that this young man had a lazy eye. By definition, one of the eyes was weaker than the other, but was also heavily squinted through when asked to focus while just using that one. The day of the surgery to correct this squint was here. He was dressed in a little white t-shirt with a logo of the series “Ghostbusters”, and a pair of plain black trousers. Unusual for him as he used to run around in t-shirt and shorts at this time of year.
The car was packed with a few essentials, nappies, change of clothes and snacks. This could be a long day at the hospital, and his 19 month old sister was in a habit of getting into things. Stranger things had happened, but yes, after 3 sons and a miscarriage, his parents had finally had a baby girl. April 16th, 1987 was her birthday. Anyway, this was his big day. They didn’t actually have that far to go as they lived pretty close to the hospital, but preparing for any situation was just a habit for the family. His oldest brother was just across the little patch of grass at his best friends, his other brother was also there for this time, aged 10 and 7 respectively, as the parents of the oldest brothers best friend had become friends of the family, and it would be considered easier to let the boys play with their toys than keep them cooped up in the white walls.
The doctor introduced himself, and explained to his parents what he was going to do, and the chances were very minimal of it going wrong. He had been in this profession for 25 years and had never had a bad surgery in all that time. Taking the young man by the hand, he took him into the theatre and placed him on the bed. The best way for him to administer any medicine was through adding an anaesthetic to the juice the young man had. This enabled the doctor to carry out the work and within 4 hours the surgery was complete. Afterwards the doctor then approached the parents, and after a small conversation with them, a conclusion was reached. The young man would have to start wearing glasses. The UK date format revealed a pattern in the shorthand format, 22/11/88. So just under a month before this young man had reached 4 years of age, he was given his first ever pair of glasses.
*********************
School, was a place for learning, and making friends. The school in question had buildings for infants and juniors, but the fastest way for them to be accessed was through crossing the playground that felt like it was a lot bigger at the age of 4 than what it turned out to be 7 years later. Throughout the time in learning, there were a number of friends made, one of which stands clear in memory. It was November 7th, 1993, just after the half-term week off, and a new kid stood nervously with his mother in front of the class. The new kid was relatively shy at first, but within the first day, he and a few others, had made this kid feel welcome. It turns out that the new kid was from South Africa, and had already experienced reaching the top of Table Mountain. Over the next two years a friendship formed that looked like it could be one for the rest of their lives. There was to be a twist in this tale, but that’s another moment.
Lunchtime play was often a mixed bag of fun and carefree enjoyment. Eating school dinners wasn’t as bad as it was often made out to be, but when the weather allowed, and if the playing fields were sufficiently dry enough, they would be allowed time to grab a few footballs and go have a kickabout. It was always eventful, but these two newly formed friends would often form a formidable defensive pairing and would rarely lose the ‘game’ if paired together. However on one of the days where the weather had restricted grass-play, there was a little incident. The young man previously mentioned who was wearing the glasses, had tripped over what looked like nothing on the playground. The glasses had fallen from his face and although he was ready to just jump up and carry on, someone else who wasn’t looking where they were going had tripped over him, landed on his back, and the force pushed his head towards the glasses that were laying on the floor. Due to the nature of the speed at which this happened, the arm of the glasses pierced the skin above the right eye, at around the hairline level. This was a call for an excursion to the school nurse, and a trip back to the hospital. Just a minor abrasion, covered up with 4 butterfly stitches, but this meant that the glasses wouldn’t fit on his face properly and he had to revisit the opticians.
Around the time he was in the junior side of the primary school, his parents were 10 years into buying the house they were living in. Having got an initial mortgage of £14,750, everything was looking relatively good. Even though there was the hiccup of having to get a re-mortgage, the value of buying was only £23,000, which still in comparison to the value of the places currently, was a respectable sum. There was a twist. His father had been ashamed of not bringing home enough money to support the house and 4 children, that he’d started pilfering customers money. He was a bus driver and would use the change to pedal slot machines to try and win more back. This was a dangerous game, but in the end, it resulted in loss of a job, and with an inability to pay towards the mortgage, they were forced into a position of having to move. The home which he had known for nearly 8 years, was taken away from him and although living in a flat above a convenience store was fun, that was only temporary.
Chapter 3
The summer of 1976 was a focal point. She had not long left school, yes with minimal friends but that wasn’t exactly important right now. A 19 year old male stood opposite her in the hall, with a ponytail hairstyle, equipped with his guitar. It was June 12th, and he was being encouraged to perform a few songs. The shoulder length long hair suited him, as did his other main feature, his moustache. There were around 200 people here, at this charity event, but even as he tuned his guitar, he got the feeling someone was admiring him. When he’d tuned up, he announced to the audience that his song for performing first, was for his late brother. She was impressed. Admittedly the lyrics were a little poetic, and she was touched greatly by the sentiment, but was she ready? She seemed a little nervous, as she hung around shyly at the back of the room from the stage, twirling her fingers through her hair. As his performance drew to a close, she headed to the drinks, but was soon to not be alone. The first meeting went well, and even though there were rocky patches initially, there was emotion, and a pretty deep sentiment. Within 2 years, a child had been born before marriage, (November 8th 1977), and on June 10th, 1978, the year of Grease the movie (John Travolta/Olivia Newton John version), they were standing in front of 40-50 witnesses, as they joined forces in holy matrimony.
They were young, but they had set a precedent of what was to be following. As they’d got to know each other – many people would potentially see pitfalls in marrying so young, and also being young parents – but there was also a high chance that there could be a generation between them. After all, he was the 2nd youngest of 9 children, and his oldest sister, was just one year younger than her mum. However this didn’t deter them, as they went on from living separately, to moving in together in 1982. By which time, May 22nd 1980 was also a celebratory date in their calendar. They’d had their second son, and talking of further children was put on hold.
*********************
He couldn’t believe it. At the tender age of 7 he was being shipped off from a 3-bedroom house to a 2-bedroom flat. A couple of miles away from where he’d grown up, this flat was one of 4 sitting above a convenience store, a nursery, and a Chinese takeaway. There were a handful of houses here, but this was only temporary accommodation. A little cramped, for a family of 6, but with him being 7, his sister 5, and his two brothers were 12 and 14, it was a case of putting up with it for the time being. Of all the furniture that they had once proudly displayed, their requirements were minimal. Space was what was ideally needed, but that was hardly likely to happen in a first floor flat with an uneven roof.
10 months after locating this temporary accommodation, they were finally rehoused. Another area of the town from which he would have to travel to school, ironically on a bus for the company his father used to work for. His sister soon made a decision to change primary schooling, but he decided to keep persevering and keep going, at least until it was time to go to secondary school. Yes there were four options open to him, but due to the relocating, this made it seem like it wasn’t going to be sensible to follow in his brothers footsteps and attend one of the two schools that his primary school friends were going to attend.
The house itself, was a 6 tier split level. The back garden and the back door were on the bottom tier, alongside a bedroom and a shower unit. Moving up half a flight of stairs, there was the dining room, kitchen and front door. It was open plan, there was no doorway, just an arch. The 3rd tier had the lounge, the 4th tier had just a bedroom, the 5th had a bathroom and the 3rd bedroom, before finally at the top there was a solitary bedroom. With there being 4 children, two of the boys were going to have to share. It was June 1993 that they moved in here, and it was an end of terrace building.
Living in this split level accommodation wasn’t always going to work out too nicely. Yes neighbours came and went, family came and went, and friends came and went, but through the 5 years of living there, a number of people showed how they could be two-faced. Nice in person but not so nice behind the back. Before he left primary school, there wasn’t much that could seem to have gone wrong. But after June 1996, there was about to be a whole other story develop, as adolescence was about to play a big part. There were other events which also may have affected the outcome of how the young man was going to turn out. Bright academically, didn’t have a clue socially.
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Day one. New school. Number of people he knew at the outset, none. It all boded well for being bullied for his gift of mathematic ability and his lack of physical presence, but there was still one person yet to be accounted for. Within the first day where he was completely nervous, a relatively unknown trait before hand, he had met a lad who was already 12 as he was one of the eldest in the year group (a birthday of September 1st gave him that accolade), but there started a rare bond that was to last a relatively long time. While there were others giving him grief of a verbal nature, this one friend remained silent and diplomatic. Including the new comer to a group under his wing, he made the new kid on the block feel a little less outcast, even though there was a number of people this lad was yet to break through the bullying barrier of.
He really started off like he was intent on being the brains, after having been verbally bullied by his brothers over the first 11 years, he had kinda grown used to it, and was able to show a thick skin to any form of verbal banter that was thrown at him. Geek, Boffin, Nerd, he took it all in his stride, and although he struggled on the more thinking subjects, he still remained a couple of years ahead in terms of mathematical capabilities. Yes there was always going to be jealousy about his rare talent, but he was reluctant to let it affect him. Behind the scenes of the relatively bright young man, however, things were about to take a darkened turn for the worse. He didn’t know, he was always a believer that he would grow up with 2 parents.
1997 rolled around, he’d recently had his 12th birthday, and his oldest brother – at the tender age of 19, (just like his father before him), had got with a 16 year old girl. Yes they’d already been together a couple of years before that, and also went a phase earlier; they’d had a baby girl. The first niece for the young man, was born 15 days before his 12th birthday. He still had to attend school, but his younger sister was kept off school being ill, yet was able to go and see the birth. This was to prove to be a relatively big year. His other brother had moved out in 1996, due to working commitments post-school days, and his oldest brother had a little family unit of his own now, a partner, a baby girl, and also had moved out.
June 9th. Not one of the more impressive dates in the calendar. Still, it was the month that his parents had first met. It was also the month they had got married. What could go wrong? No-one predicted the outcome of this day. Raised voices the minute his dad had got through the door after work, was just the start. Arguments were just part of life, the young man thought. However, this one particular argument wasn’t going to end well. His father was tired of arguing, and didn’t believe it was the right environment to be bringing children up in. With that, the wedding ring which had been on his hand for 1 day short of 19 years, came off, and was launched across the living room. Soon after that, his father took off, took the car for a drive. His mother was in pieces. Even though he wasn’t sure what he was meant to be saying, he was still awake, and went down the stairs from the top bedroom, to go and comfort her. It was a partial relief that he was only sent to his bedroom rather than being given a bedtime as such, because this was a time it was needed.
Chapter 4
It was 2003. He was 18, and having had a failed year at college, starting, and dropping out, he was intrigued in pursuing a potential relationship. One girl in particular had caught his eye. A little bit of a strange history with being born in a bed next to someone else he’d grown to know over time, therefore sharing a birthday. This young woman had mouse-brown hair, was always conscious about her own self image which, albeit not particularly model-esque, she was attractive in her own ways. She enjoyed creative design, and was looking at potentially going to university. It took a number of months of pursuing, but eventually, July 19th 2003, she finally agreed to hook up with him. Her parents weren’t exactly keen on her new boyfriend, and as a result refused to allow him into their home. What she’d told them wasn’t exactly the prettiest of pictures either, so it led to an impression that was less than pleasing to hear.
She had just finished college herself, having not dropped out and studied hard for 2 years. There was a love triangle prior to this, which made things reasonably awkward at points. He wasn’t part of this triangle. She had her eyes set on a guy, who in turn, preferred her best friend. This wasn’t likely to end nicely. So in the end while settling to at least give the young man a try, she was still a little caught up on everything else. Reluctant to let him buy much for her, she would often treat him instead, whether it was to food at the town’s Burger King, or a night in front of the TV watching the latest movie release, there was a lot to be said. She was a career driven individual. No-one knew how the future was going to pan out, and yet everything seemed to be rosy on the outside.
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When it looked like he had finally overcome the issues of being bullied for years in school, it was probably down to adolescence above everything else. He was 16 and had finished his exams, and was looking at potentially going into college. He had applied, everything was set up, all he really needed then was to go and get his results. This he had to wait another few weeks for, so in the meantime, he’d applied for a job at his local retail store. Yes he was only 16, and if he was taken on, he knew he’d be serving alcohol so would need to be compliant with the laws of the sale of age-restricted goods. This would require a member of staff who was 18 or above acknowledging that he was doing so. Initially, he looked for as many hours as he could get – although having made up his mind to enter college, he also had to revert back to a minor detail of working just weekends. This would help him fund his way through college for books/equipment and more, so within the first few weeks he was initially on a 12 hour contract, yet working 40 hours a week because the time was available.
This opportunity was granted, although it wasn’t exactly the most ideal. His mother already had started herself on March 5th 2001, so for a mother and son to be working in the small environment of a local convenience store, it was a chance to pursue a potentially forwarding career. Ok, he would need to fully apply himself, and lethargy had already crept in to what he was doing, so it looked like a challenge that was destined to fail. Strangely enough, he took to college initially like a duck to water, but soon after making a few friends, he started skipping lessons, and eventually lost control of where he wanted to end up. Moving through the first four months of college, he’d eventually upped his working contract from 12, to 16, to 27 hours a week. This helped his mother out on 2 of those nights, because he would be there to ensure her safety at getting home, given that she wasn’t particularly fond of night-time, nor the fact the shop was right next to a pub.
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No-one had prepared them for this. No-one knew quite how things were going to turn out. He had nipped into the bathroom on the way down to comforting his mother and grabbed a handful of tissue. She had been crying for a while before his father had walked out, and he could hear that in her voice. His sister, although having been asleep, had also been disturbed, so the three of them sat, on the stairs between his sisters room and the living room, huddled together. What was going to be the outcome? No-one could have expected a singularly straightforward answer. The clock ticked around to 9:30pm, and his mother did remind them that they did have to still get up for school the next day. He was reluctant to let it be so, but she had tried to get hold of his brothers to let them know. The disagreement was how she summed it up to them, but she could do to sit down and talk with them when it was possible.
Having driven himself around for a few hours to cool down, the father returned. Everyone had long since gone to bed, so he lit up a cigarette. Due to a problem that the young man had suffered with for a number of years, he was the first one to wake up to the smell of smoke. Normally a heavy sleeper, he hadn’t slept properly that night, that’s for sure. He got up, and although it was only around 4am, he put the bath taps on and was set for having a freshen up. He didn’t know how to approach his dad about it, so he had his bath, took his dirty bedding down the stairs, and remained quiet. It wasn’t going to be easy, no matter how much his father said he loved him, it was destined to be a fair bit trickier.
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It was mentioned to him, that when he had turned 19, he wasn’t going to be counted for within the benefits system that his mother was claiming for. Yes she had been working for nearly 3 years by then, but she was on a very low income, and when he was 19 his side stopped, he would need to find a job to be able to pay his way. Ok so he was still at college after having flunked his first year. Flunked, but still passing his physics course with a grade albeit the lowest one before failing. Not bad for a handful of months worth of attendance. 2004 was upon them. He had been with his girlfriend now for 6 months, and through her, he was able to get a part time job where she was working. They had not long been making love, and through lack of using sufficient contraception, she found out she was pregnant. Even though abortion was not on his mind, they had a conversation, but eventually the decision was taken by her to attend an abortion clinic. She was relatively lucky – as the limit was 12 weeks and she was 11.5 weeks into it. Needless to say, he was not amused. You would have thought that they would have learnt from that, but no. A few weeks later, she found herself pregnant again. This time, with much talking and differences of opinion because she had wanted to develop her career, they decided to keep the baby.
May the 8th came along, and even though she’d decided to leave and pursue an office job, he was still in the place she’d got him into. The manageress had recently left, and weekends were down to covering managers, as no-one had filled the void. With a 17 year old cooking from 8am-1pm, and her 16 year old sister taking over between 1-2:30pm, there was a number of potential pitfalls had an investigator decided to dig deeper into it. The covering manager on the day had decided to take his 1 hour lunch break from 2pm, so responsibilities had fallen onto his shoulders. Being the only one above the age of 18, he made a conscientious decision to clean out the fryer that was left to be cleaned. If any accidents were had, he would be covered where the 16 year old would not. As things turned out, he did have an accident where the oil caught his right hand. Thumb and first two fingers more than anywhere else, so he instinctively went to run his hand under cold water. These were the digits bandaged by the hospital after the manager upon returning had decided that was to be done.
The following day, he was scheduled to be going to a theme park. Alton Towers. Packing wasn’t an issue, it was the choice of clothes he had decided to take, and wear on that day, that were a little hazardous. Too many buttons! He was a little frustrated, but upon arrival, his girlfriend helped him get dressed, and off they went for a two day trip. Somehow, even though he only had £20 for the two days, he managed to get through and survive. He’d decided that he wasn’t for the rides, he was more for the sideshows and as such became the luggage guy. On one of these sideshows, he thought he’d give it a go as he’d been throwing a few darts from time to time, and could at least score with either hand. The options were, for a small prize, score 49+ , for a large prize, score 99+, or for a giant prize, hit the prized 50 point bulls-eye. The first dart, he had hit a modest 11. Bearing in mind he was using his weaker hand because the burnt fingers were still bandaged at this point. The second dart, gave him hope that he could possibly win something, by hitting the green ring. The outer bull. This took his score to 36, with one dart remaining. I don’t think many would anticipate that his chances were good at getting anything, but with the third dart, he went alongside his ‘25’ pointer, but fortunately, it landed in the centre of the board and he was overjoyed. The giant prize, with which he asked his girlfriend what she would like, was a green snake. This was going to be interesting to get in the car to go home with.
Chapter 5
Ever since he had completed the first song he had written back in May of 2000, he had looked at developing musically. He had a keyboard now, and as a gift on his 18th birthday he was given an electric guitar. One little snag here, was that he didn’t have an amplifier to go with it, but it wasn’t long until he owned a 15 Watt Marshall branded amp. For obvious reasons he had to keep the volume down, because it did go fairly loud, but it enabled him to start developing how to play chords from popular songs. One of his first songs that he recalls learning was Eric Clapton’s hit, Tears In Heaven. Not one of the hardest songs to learn, given that he was more a pianist too, he adapted rather well to it.
With his keyboard and now the guitar to go with it, he was finding music rather enjoyable, and also a release. Over the next few years he would develop into learning popular songs and also melody lines for having a go with singing. In 2004, he had reformed a bond with his father after the issues over the previous 6/7 years, and they stumbled across a musical version of open mic nights. This would be where people would turn up with guitars and play primarily original music but some would drop the occasional cover song. The young man’s specialist area was cover songs, so he would occasionally drop in one of his own. By this point he had written a handful more in terms of lyrics, but only a few were put to music.
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June 2001 wasn’t a particularly bright time for him, his mum, and his sister. This was the month, on the 13th of all days, which the finalisation of a divorce had come through. This was the curtain on an era which had seen 25 years of life pass by. Moving houses, 4 children and 2 grandchildren, the passing of all 3 of his grandparents that he had known, leaving friends of primary school behind, making new ones through secondary school. So much had happened, but this was the last event between the two of his parents. Yes there was bitterness. But a lot had been said on his part that nothing was going on with a woman who’s previous partner had allowed him into their house then left the scene. Didn’t seem logical to those in the know, so he sent a particularly damning email at the time.
There was every reason that his dad was believable, but to those more in tune, the pieces of the puzzle just didn’t add up. The following July – exactly 13 months later (It was July 13th), there was an event which happened, that confirmed that there was probably more going on behind the scenes. The wedding of his father and this other woman, later acknowledged to be step-mother – yet only tolerated as dad’s wife, because she made him happy. Over time – the bond, while fraught with tension, has slowly strengthened, yet there are still occasional tense moments.
*********************
So, December 6th 1996 was the first time he became an uncle. There was another addition on May 1st 1999, and to complete his older brothers family set up, there was a 3rd child, born on August 26th 2004. To complete this, there was a spring time wedding, on May 13th 2000. They are still married to this day, and like every family, have ups and downs.
His second brother, has a slightly bigger family. A daughter from a previous relationship, born on March 8th 2002, was his eldest birth child, but through online, started conversing with a woman who already had a son (may 1st 2004). Her son was born july 14th 1998, but by Apr 30th 2005, they were married. Over the next 7 years there was a son, August 22nd 2005, and two more daughters, born on May 31st 2007 and July 28th 2010.
Finally his sister, having had a 3 year relationship starting at the age of 15 with someone 8 years her senior, found her current husband through the second brother. Met up in 2006, she gave birth to her son on February 21st 2008. They got married on June 12th 2010, before she gave birth to her daughter on October 8th 2010.
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The longest relationship he has been involved in, had numerous ups and downs. Working together, inability to enter her parents house (their decision was respected for all but one occasion), but then the decision to keep a baby less than 8 weeks after an abortion was had, wasn’t a popular choice. They had even agreed to open up a joint bank account in order to save for the birth, but there were a number of things to get through first. He wasn’t present at any of the scans. Her personal choice was to have her mother there, as with having a brother who was gay, this was going to be her mother’s only source of grandchildren.
A few other things went on prior to the birth though. Nights out, she would spend nearly 3 figures on as he would drink to excess while enjoying it. The job he was in folded as he was pushed into a position of quit or be sacked. He quit, and through the assistance of his two older brothers, ran by two jobs. One was pulling cables through underground pipes to connect telecommunications (broadband, TV, telephone), for one company, the other was assisting in carrying kitchen equipment (washing machines, cookers, dishwashers etc), in and out of customers houses. It was during a spell in the second job that the birth would happen.
He woke up at 5am. Today was loading day. It took a matter of moments to piece some lunch together. 3 sandwiches, a couple of bags of crisps, chocolate, and a £5 for drink/cigarettes. His oldest brother came to pick him up and they set off for a relatively quiet day according to the sheets. Excitement was getting to him as he spent most of the day chatting about being a dad but by 5pm the working day was through. That evening around 7pm, his own dad came and picked him up, and they decided to go and visit the brother he’d been working with all day. Playing a few games of football on a games console, around 10pm it was discussed that the young man should call the parents of his girlfriend. When he did phone them, he got through to her dad, who then informed him that she was on her way to the hospital. A bit of a panic ensued, but he was feeling a little annoyed at the same time. Why wasn’t he called to be informed of this? After a few minutes he had been give £7 to get coffee/chocolate if needed overnight, and was given a lift to the hospital.
Arriving at the hospital he was aware that it might take a few moments, so he buzzed and waited for an answer. Given that it was so late, would he be allowed to go in or would he be stopped at the last hurdle? Thankfully for him, the person on the other end of the intercom was accepting of the situation and allowed him in. He soon found his way to where his girlfriend was. By now it was 11pm, and although he was starting to feel a little drained, he was running on adrenaline and caffeine. This was single-handedly the most important thing in his life right now. Yes so working wasn’t constant, nor was it permanent in recent years, but nothing could compare to the fact he was not long away from being a dad himself. As the clock ticked around to 3am, he was half awake/half asleep. He was really struggling to keep going although she wasn’t quite ready to give birth. At 3:39am however, on the morning of Tuesday February 22nd 2005, that was the time given that she had given birth. He weight 7lb 8oz. His son, was finally here.
He dozed off for a little bit just after, and she was advised to get some rest too, but before long, it was 7am. He was advised to go home and get some sleep and a shower and come back fresh. By 1pm he was back there. Along with all grandparents (her parents, his parents, his dad’s wife) , and a few other family members, this was a proud occasion. One that would stick with him regardless of whatever route the future decided it was going to take.
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It had been 16 months since he had been back in this job. He wasn’t liking it. Nor was he liking the manager and his “do as I say, not as I do” approach. August 8th, 2006, he decided he’d finally had enough, and for all the world it looked like he was leaving, and not likely to return. 3 weeks, and a telephone interview later, he found himself starting in his first ever office job. Yes it was a temporary to permanent position, and taking the first three months would have made everything alright. One little slip up on a night out, and a reluctance to return home to bed, he turned up at 1:30am, which was enough to remove himself from being taken on permanently. This wasn’t the best of ideas, considering he had at that point recently taken out a contract phone that he now wasn’t going to be able to pay for.
Roll on the end of 2006, and the start of 2007. The first half of the year this young man wishes he could just honestly forget had happened. Having lost the job, and racking up an unpayable phone bill, he wasn’t looking forward to future events. This got a little too much for his mother (yes, at 22 he was still living at home), and she decided she couldn’t cope any more. She evicted him, and he had to find somewhere extremely quickly. Through a friend of his, he managed to find a room to be able to crash in for the immediate future. There he made one of the biggest decisions that he’s ever considered. He gave up at being a dad. Something he regretted from the minute he’s done it until now.
Chapter 6
So it was a rare event. His county of residence played the sport of cricket in a country championship where they all competed in a home/away round robin. Being a fair weather sport, this was subject to conditions, as moderate to heavy rain would affect some games throughout the summer season. It was mid-afternoon, and school was out for the day. Along with his friend from that first day of the new school, they grabbed a bite to eat, and went for a gentle stroll to go and watch. From all reports this was going to be the last time there was a game in their town, so they went to make the most of it.
This was an eye-opener to the sport. Yes they’d played computer games, but they weren’t entirely realistic. They’d also watched professional matches, internationally speaking, where the main contingent of countries who played, were part of the British Empire a hundred years previously. England had hit rock bottom just the year before, so there was only going to be one potential route for them. His friend was a little more interested and had managed to filter in an indoor game as an after school activity at the school, through one of the supporting employees who often helped those with learning disabilities.
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Barely a month had gone. His son was still ever so tiny, but he wanted to do something that he’d never done before – even though this was his first relationship. Through one of his exploits in his job, he’d spotted a hotel in a town along the southwest of the country. So he thought he’d treat his girlfriend to a night out, aiming to stay at that very hotel. Even though he’d let his theory test expire so he would have to retake it before doing a practical on his driving lessons, he was taking a serious risk. A provisional licence with no L=plates on the car, no insurance covering in case of accident, and a 4-week old in the car too, he was intent on going for a 4 hour journey to go and stay at this hotel.
The clouds had filled the sky. Overcast, but not raining, and the forecast for the destination was a little more favourable. A spring afternoon at around 5pm, she pulled up at his. A little 1.1 litre engine powered purple Nissan Micra was the vehicle that she owned, so they were going to travel in it. And yes, he’d taken the decision to be driving it. Setting off around 15 minutes later, the journey was going to be fun. Conversation flowed while the radio played away in the background. Even though there was the 4 week old baby in the back, he was going to get them to stay somewhere overnight, even if it wasn’t the intended location. The initial destination proved evasive, turning a 4 hour journey into a 6 hour journey, but they managed to find a hotel an hour or so away from the seaside. There were other options nearby as to where to get to the seaside, but he wanted to specifically revisit one town in particular. He had been there 7 times before, and wasn’t about to miss that opportunity.
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So he was turning 18. Finally after nearly 1.5 years of letting other colleagues know he was selling alcohol, he would be able to legally serve it without disrupting others. And as it was a once in a lifetime occurrence, he asked his boss if he could get a day off. Retail and December days off never mixed as it was the busiest spell that anywhere was likely to have, but when he was granted the choice, he opted for the day after his birthday as the day to have off. After all, he was going to be legally able to drink, so he thought he may need the day after to recover.
Ok, he was only scheduled to be working 8am to 4pm, but he was up as soon as his alarm went off. It was 6:42am, and there was still no sign of sunrise. It was December after all, and in the northern hemisphere, the shortest day (for daylight hours), was frequently his birthday. He stretched his legs, and went downstairs to get a morning coffee. This was going to be a long day, he felt, and was intent on making a statement of intent. A coffee and a cigarette later, he felt ready to tackle the day’s employment. This was going to be a lot of fun, as everyone who knew him, knew this was going to be a big day all around. Even when he turned up at work, there was a birthday banner amongst all the Christmas decorations. The 8 hours flew by, and, although it wasn’t planned to be that way, it was a Saturday, so it was likely to be quite busy for the pre-planned meal out.
On his way out of the door at the end of his shift, his boss stopped him. There was one extra present that he hadn’t expected, but a bottle of wine was given to him. He was left speechless by this, and excitedly went home. A little too enthusiastically for his mother when he got through the door, and he still had little under 4 hours to wait for dinner. However, there was a little selection of snacks set out on the table in the living room. He didn’t think it would be worthwhile getting changed for 2 hours before preparing to go out, so he snacked on the nibbles in his work uniform. He was quite fortunate that there was no spillages, and was also given a licence to have an alcoholic beverage with it.
Sitting down at the meal those few hours later, he was with all but his two nieces and nephew, his sister, his brothers and their partners, his mum, one of his mum’s sisters and his dad. This was a sizeable group, but with good reason. Everyone was there to have a meal and celebrate his day. He opted to go for a nice piece of rump steak. Not to choose one of the more expensive dishes on the menu, but because he fancied trying something different. Barely 2 hours later the meal was finished, and a suggestion to go and celebrate with a few drinks in a couple of town locations, was followed up. 6 of the group went out, leaving his mum, her sister, and his own sister to go home as his sister was only 15 and not of a legal age to be drinking. It was going to be fun evening.
First stop was a hotel, unusual but it had its bar open to the general public. It was Christmas time, and they were expecting to make a few extra sales by doing so. Everyone was having a good time and even having a bit of a dance. Even the bar staff got in on the act, and although no ID was asked for (he was wearing a badge but that’s not always believable), he was given a drink on the house. The full Christmas spirit was in swing, coupled with his birthday, meant it was a double celebration. As the clock hit midnight, his oldest brother and her partner decided they were going to call it a night. The group had been whittled down to 4, and only one was over 25.
As the hotel decided it was going to call time at the bar, there was a few places suggested, but they opted to go into a place that should have been for only over 25’s. Before they got there he was advised and wisely so to remove his badge. That might not have finished the evening off in the way it turned out to. But with no-one asking for id, 3 of them got in technically illegally. Given that it was a Saturday night at a busy time of year, it was something that should have being clamped down on. But fortunately for them it wasn’t. Inside this venue, he, although pretty drunk by this time, had presence of mind to, while having a dance, spot one of the people he knew from his street. A rare occurrence, but this was his first legal exchange of cash for alcohol in public environments.
To end the evening of jolly fun and gimmicks, the other 2 under 25s left with him and his dad, both decided they were going to get a taxi and head home. It took until time was called, before him and his dad were leaving. It had been an eventful evening. Lots of dancing, lots of drinking. Now the night was drawing to a close, but whilst waiting for a friend of his dad to come and pick them both up, his dad was running across the road and back. Fortunately for them, the actual traffic flow that evening was next to none, so there was very little chances of anything going wrong. When the car arrived, it was armed with 2 carrier bags, but they weren’t required. Yes the two of them had a pretty bad day of it the following day, but it was worth it for the full on enjoyment. His 18th birthday had been a long day, but a brilliant one for him at the time. After the problems on his 17th, having been forgotten by many, this was a memorable one, and would be remembered for all the fun that had taken place.
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It was recession time. Throughout the year before he’d mainly been stuck in agency employment, most of them lasting for 3-4 weeks before university and college students came in on their summer breaks, until one agency landed him multiple roles with one company through the autumn months. That came to a close a couple of weeks before Christmas, yet there was still another week for another company before he was out of work yet again. Yet for some strange reason – with 2.5 years experience in a cafe kitchen, he plumped for applying to be a kitchen porter. This was likely to be a slightly different experience to the cafe role, because it was for a global hotel chain. He was granted the chance to have an interview, which opened up a can of worms for potentially superstitious people. It was scheduled for Friday 13th February, 2009. 10 days later, he was starting there.
The first few months, things started off relatively slowly, but there were 3 porters. By the end of that April, his two colleagues left, but there was no-one to replace them, meaning as the only recognised porter, he wasn’t sure quite what he was going to be expected to do. On top of all that, the new head and sous chefs were due to be starting the first day he was the solo porter. First impressions showed that he wasn’t exactly the best physically, yet he had to space out his attributes and time of day with which he was energetic. They were long days, and a lot of hours went into that week. Out of a routine 120 hours that had been being given a week to the 3 porters, he found himself working 80, with one of his colleagues working 21 as a makeshift porter, having spent 7 years doing the exact same role.
Either that - or I am just highly creative
Chapter 1
Clothes were scattered across the front of a fireplace. The cast iron fireplace, which had a penchant for having occasional moments of releasing soot, was just as dusty as it had been for the last 9 months. The rest of the room wasn’t much to look at either, cigarette ash just laying around the leaf-coloured carpet, a few empty soda cans and bottles were also just disorganised in the mess. Yes, this room belonged to a male, average height, slim build, a mop of untidy hair, and glasses. He was in his late 20’s, and had been up all night once again. This seemed to be something of a recent routine change. His only joy’s were being half swamped by his inability to tap into creative juices, with a keyboard one side, an acoustic guitar the other, and a studio of a laptop resting on his knees while he was perched upon the bottom end of his sofa-bed. Primarily left laid out as a bed, this furnishing had come equipped with a beanbag and a sleeping bag.
On top of a bookcase in the far corner – proudly stood a picture. The young man was involved in the fortunate chance at grasping what life could really be about, being a father, yet these were distant memories as his son in question would be 7 by now. Taking a slurp of coffee, he was adamant that he was going to force his way through the day on the intake of caffeine alone. Yet every moment that he took a breath, he found himself thinking solely about the moment that he gave it all up. All because he was too selfish and ignorant to realise there was a way around it. He’d given up on being a father before his son was even 2. Regrets come and go, but this young man felt disgruntled by his own procrastination, and yet seeming capabilities to give reasonable advice to other people who could have lived in either the next room, or halfway around the world, for a multitude of problems, or even just being a bit of a joker, he was struggling to find a way to incorporate that into his own life.
The rumble of traffic flowing right outside the house he resided in, was starting to show signs of increasing. After all, it was a wet Thursday morning, at the start of May, generalised as routine British weather. The weather itself was deciding to project a similar mood to what this young man was feeling inside. Miserable. It had barely been 3 weeks, since the most recent partner he’d had, had decided to call time on the relationship. This was only a short 6 week romance, but the ending was something that wasn’t particularly pleasant. Typed text, in a private message through an online chatroom where the two had originally met, was not inclined to be nice.
Even the solitary distraction from self-destruction, the musical creativity that he had been able to produce, had dried up. Of course he wanted to share it with all who would listen, but yet he felt like the enjoyment of such an activity was on very thin ground. There had been a few beginners luck pieces of completely different styles to what he had originally been working with, but as with lyricists having writers-block, he’d hit his own brick wall.
So things weren’t going quite as he had hoped for. The start of a new year had only brought about 2 relapses into a state of mind that is diagnosed as depression. He was seeking new ways to handle his internal emotional conflicts, be it a new implement to use to recreate the emotional pain in a physical format. Or even toying with the idea of walking in front of the oncoming traffic, perhaps at a slightly busier time than current volume was suggesting. Had a mid-life crisis come early? Was he just a coward? Or was there more to it than what he was letting on.
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Reminders of the previous two births, hadn’t given in to what was expected this time around. Sure there had been two boys, and this was anticipated at being a third, but there had been a time, and a miscarriage, which had come ever so close to not even breaking the start of this potential story. Yet the more the two parents talked, there was an increase in determination to try and at least provide one sister so there was one of each gender of offspring. The age gap between the elder two brothers was a pretty much perfect 2.5 years, which, by the time the third bundle of baby joy was born, had opened up 4.5 years or so between the newborn and the younger one of these two older brothers. Yes a miscarriage had happened in between times, but even that would have left a 2-2.5 year age gap in between all kids in order.
It was a late December evening, a Thursday at that, when contractions started getting stronger and more regular. This couldn’t be right, the parents were thinking, although their previous two sons had been born first one week early, the second eight days early. There was still twelve days to go until this one was due. Surely not now, not with Christmas day just five days away. Fate had decreed that this would not be messed with. With these contractions every two minutes apart, and having passed through into the early hours of the following morning, there was not really much time left. This baby boy was going to be early, and somewhat eleven days early. The date on the calendar was December 21st, 1984, and as they turned up at the hospital, it wasn’t going to be a matter of days. It was a matter of hours, as the dilation was already at 7cm. 3 more to go, and waters would break.
The immediate family was there, grandad, two grandmas, clearly mum and dad, along with a number of uncles and aunts, a 7 year old scruffy haired action man favouring young man, and a 4.5 year old who was always asking questions, about the baby, where did they come from, and grandad decided to take the youngsters away from the delivery room. Grandad was always a bundle of fun, although he had no teeth, he could sure show people up when it came to eating times. The clock was ticking in the background, but it hadn’t got too far into the morning when the midwife was called, and from that moment on she never left the side of the happy couple until the birth was complete. The time, was all even numbers, and would come in handy many years down the line. 6:42am, on that date, Friday, December 21st, there lay the third little bundle of baby boy joy. This one was the lightest of the three boys at birth, weighing in at a little under 6lb. The birth weight was acknowledged to be 5lb 13.5oz, the extra 0.5oz proving that there wasn’t 3lbs between this one and the oldest (who had been acknowledged at a birth weight of 8lb 13oz).
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Getting into music wasn’t going to be particularly difficult for this young man. He was already into learning the shapes of chords on a guitar, as dad had played this for many years, even playing a few live shows around the local town with a pianist friend of his from work. Albeit there was only a handful of piano lessons, at last count, just ten, this self enthused musician was going to develop his playing habits away from personal teachings. At the tender age of just 15, in the summer term of the year 2000, this young man actually jotted down some words to which he thought he would be able to put music. The date, May 22nd, which coincided with one of his older brothers birthdays.
So it barely took any time to put some basic chord patterns together, or a retrospectively basic melody line to fit these words into a song, but this young man had taken a game for his Sony Playstation, entitled Music 2000, and pieced it all together musically. All it needed was a recording and this was encouraged at school. Recorded to a PC, and then a couple of copies were burnt to a CD. Even though it had taken a little while and a bit of extra musical teaching knowledge, by the end of that summer term, this young man had created his very first song.
In keeping with the musical theme, he was asked to perform this very song, at an open evening for parents of children who were potentially looking to send their children to this school, parents of 10/11 year olds. The room was almost seated to capacity, with over 300 people present, and a little makeshift stage of two drama blocks were drafted in to aid performers. A number of jokes were made about this, as the young man had taken a step too far back, it was made out to sound like he’d fallen off this stage, when the reality was, the stage didn’t go far enough back and he felt the step down. Being a complete novice and newcomer to the art of performing for such a sizeable audience, he felt obliged to maintain closed eyes throughout, as the nerves would have encapsulated him and made him laugh instead.
Chapter 2
Having been born – December 21st 1984, those eleven days early, this young man had decided to make a statement to the world. He was premature, and his birthday would be the signal for last-gasp panic-buying of Christmas based gifts for a number of people. Yes, he was that year’s Christmas present, and with the age gap of 4.5 years to the younger of his two older brothers, there would be a few cases of differences of opinion.
As previously mentioned, the oldest of his brothers had been born at a starting weight of 8lb 13oz, in comparison to his relatively average 5lb 13.5oz. However, a record of weights up until both of them were 3 months old, the young man had been keen to make up for lost time. At the tender age of 3 months old, both of them had been recorded at being 20lbs. Astonishing as it may sound, this young man never seemed to show any facet of being overweight, and even in his late 20s, is still struggling to bypass 168lbs.
After a year where there were plenty of firsts, first smile, first nappy change, first eating of solid foods, even down to first steps, there was already something different about him to his brothers. Yes he would have to be slightly different, but through the power of Channel 4 and their readymade quiz show Countdown, he was fast learning at least the capitalised version of the letters of the alphabet, and also the numbers 1-10. The other numbers were a little way off at this point, but by the time he was 2, he was able to count to the then magic 100. While potty training, while mum was even having a bath, he would then begin to learn his times tables alongside the nursery rhymes. So much so, that even through nursery, he was already ahead of the other kids in the maths department. Everything else seemed to be nothing more than average, but the numbers really did set him apart. Then the summer holidays ended, and he was making his first steps into the world of education.
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Ok, so he’d managed to successfully write his first piece of music at the tender age of 15. This actively contributed to his development within the taught subject of music for his age level qualification, he managed to obtain the second highest grade available to him. He was mightily impressed, given that he had mucked about a fair bit with one of the other students, seemingly wasting time. Lethargy had crept in a little since the start of the academic year of his first song, but there was something rather pivotal, which could have been a reason for the derailment from the willingness to learn and be the best.
That December, on his birthday, he’d been looking to obtain a piece of personal development musical equipment. However, with mum only paying £80 towards the cost of the keyboard he had initially wanted to get, he realised he would have to stump up the other £50 to be able to get it. Luck however was on his side at this moment in time. Through the fact both his brothers were working, and numerous aunts/uncles were still in touch, there was sufficient monetary gifts which enabled him to get it. Quite remarkably, even though the box from which this keyboard was originally kept inside has disappeared, this very same keyboard bought at the age of 16, is still in his possession. Even though it’s been in his possession for 11 years and more, it still works, and is in tune.
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He woke up one bright morning, strange circumstances for late November, but today was going to be a big day. Having been monitored by a few opticians and doctors alike, it had been discovered that this young man had a lazy eye. By definition, one of the eyes was weaker than the other, but was also heavily squinted through when asked to focus while just using that one. The day of the surgery to correct this squint was here. He was dressed in a little white t-shirt with a logo of the series “Ghostbusters”, and a pair of plain black trousers. Unusual for him as he used to run around in t-shirt and shorts at this time of year.
The car was packed with a few essentials, nappies, change of clothes and snacks. This could be a long day at the hospital, and his 19 month old sister was in a habit of getting into things. Stranger things had happened, but yes, after 3 sons and a miscarriage, his parents had finally had a baby girl. April 16th, 1987 was her birthday. Anyway, this was his big day. They didn’t actually have that far to go as they lived pretty close to the hospital, but preparing for any situation was just a habit for the family. His oldest brother was just across the little patch of grass at his best friends, his other brother was also there for this time, aged 10 and 7 respectively, as the parents of the oldest brothers best friend had become friends of the family, and it would be considered easier to let the boys play with their toys than keep them cooped up in the white walls.
The doctor introduced himself, and explained to his parents what he was going to do, and the chances were very minimal of it going wrong. He had been in this profession for 25 years and had never had a bad surgery in all that time. Taking the young man by the hand, he took him into the theatre and placed him on the bed. The best way for him to administer any medicine was through adding an anaesthetic to the juice the young man had. This enabled the doctor to carry out the work and within 4 hours the surgery was complete. Afterwards the doctor then approached the parents, and after a small conversation with them, a conclusion was reached. The young man would have to start wearing glasses. The UK date format revealed a pattern in the shorthand format, 22/11/88. So just under a month before this young man had reached 4 years of age, he was given his first ever pair of glasses.
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School, was a place for learning, and making friends. The school in question had buildings for infants and juniors, but the fastest way for them to be accessed was through crossing the playground that felt like it was a lot bigger at the age of 4 than what it turned out to be 7 years later. Throughout the time in learning, there were a number of friends made, one of which stands clear in memory. It was November 7th, 1993, just after the half-term week off, and a new kid stood nervously with his mother in front of the class. The new kid was relatively shy at first, but within the first day, he and a few others, had made this kid feel welcome. It turns out that the new kid was from South Africa, and had already experienced reaching the top of Table Mountain. Over the next two years a friendship formed that looked like it could be one for the rest of their lives. There was to be a twist in this tale, but that’s another moment.
Lunchtime play was often a mixed bag of fun and carefree enjoyment. Eating school dinners wasn’t as bad as it was often made out to be, but when the weather allowed, and if the playing fields were sufficiently dry enough, they would be allowed time to grab a few footballs and go have a kickabout. It was always eventful, but these two newly formed friends would often form a formidable defensive pairing and would rarely lose the ‘game’ if paired together. However on one of the days where the weather had restricted grass-play, there was a little incident. The young man previously mentioned who was wearing the glasses, had tripped over what looked like nothing on the playground. The glasses had fallen from his face and although he was ready to just jump up and carry on, someone else who wasn’t looking where they were going had tripped over him, landed on his back, and the force pushed his head towards the glasses that were laying on the floor. Due to the nature of the speed at which this happened, the arm of the glasses pierced the skin above the right eye, at around the hairline level. This was a call for an excursion to the school nurse, and a trip back to the hospital. Just a minor abrasion, covered up with 4 butterfly stitches, but this meant that the glasses wouldn’t fit on his face properly and he had to revisit the opticians.
Around the time he was in the junior side of the primary school, his parents were 10 years into buying the house they were living in. Having got an initial mortgage of £14,750, everything was looking relatively good. Even though there was the hiccup of having to get a re-mortgage, the value of buying was only £23,000, which still in comparison to the value of the places currently, was a respectable sum. There was a twist. His father had been ashamed of not bringing home enough money to support the house and 4 children, that he’d started pilfering customers money. He was a bus driver and would use the change to pedal slot machines to try and win more back. This was a dangerous game, but in the end, it resulted in loss of a job, and with an inability to pay towards the mortgage, they were forced into a position of having to move. The home which he had known for nearly 8 years, was taken away from him and although living in a flat above a convenience store was fun, that was only temporary.
Chapter 3
The summer of 1976 was a focal point. She had not long left school, yes with minimal friends but that wasn’t exactly important right now. A 19 year old male stood opposite her in the hall, with a ponytail hairstyle, equipped with his guitar. It was June 12th, and he was being encouraged to perform a few songs. The shoulder length long hair suited him, as did his other main feature, his moustache. There were around 200 people here, at this charity event, but even as he tuned his guitar, he got the feeling someone was admiring him. When he’d tuned up, he announced to the audience that his song for performing first, was for his late brother. She was impressed. Admittedly the lyrics were a little poetic, and she was touched greatly by the sentiment, but was she ready? She seemed a little nervous, as she hung around shyly at the back of the room from the stage, twirling her fingers through her hair. As his performance drew to a close, she headed to the drinks, but was soon to not be alone. The first meeting went well, and even though there were rocky patches initially, there was emotion, and a pretty deep sentiment. Within 2 years, a child had been born before marriage, (November 8th 1977), and on June 10th, 1978, the year of Grease the movie (John Travolta/Olivia Newton John version), they were standing in front of 40-50 witnesses, as they joined forces in holy matrimony.
They were young, but they had set a precedent of what was to be following. As they’d got to know each other – many people would potentially see pitfalls in marrying so young, and also being young parents – but there was also a high chance that there could be a generation between them. After all, he was the 2nd youngest of 9 children, and his oldest sister, was just one year younger than her mum. However this didn’t deter them, as they went on from living separately, to moving in together in 1982. By which time, May 22nd 1980 was also a celebratory date in their calendar. They’d had their second son, and talking of further children was put on hold.
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He couldn’t believe it. At the tender age of 7 he was being shipped off from a 3-bedroom house to a 2-bedroom flat. A couple of miles away from where he’d grown up, this flat was one of 4 sitting above a convenience store, a nursery, and a Chinese takeaway. There were a handful of houses here, but this was only temporary accommodation. A little cramped, for a family of 6, but with him being 7, his sister 5, and his two brothers were 12 and 14, it was a case of putting up with it for the time being. Of all the furniture that they had once proudly displayed, their requirements were minimal. Space was what was ideally needed, but that was hardly likely to happen in a first floor flat with an uneven roof.
10 months after locating this temporary accommodation, they were finally rehoused. Another area of the town from which he would have to travel to school, ironically on a bus for the company his father used to work for. His sister soon made a decision to change primary schooling, but he decided to keep persevering and keep going, at least until it was time to go to secondary school. Yes there were four options open to him, but due to the relocating, this made it seem like it wasn’t going to be sensible to follow in his brothers footsteps and attend one of the two schools that his primary school friends were going to attend.
The house itself, was a 6 tier split level. The back garden and the back door were on the bottom tier, alongside a bedroom and a shower unit. Moving up half a flight of stairs, there was the dining room, kitchen and front door. It was open plan, there was no doorway, just an arch. The 3rd tier had the lounge, the 4th tier had just a bedroom, the 5th had a bathroom and the 3rd bedroom, before finally at the top there was a solitary bedroom. With there being 4 children, two of the boys were going to have to share. It was June 1993 that they moved in here, and it was an end of terrace building.
Living in this split level accommodation wasn’t always going to work out too nicely. Yes neighbours came and went, family came and went, and friends came and went, but through the 5 years of living there, a number of people showed how they could be two-faced. Nice in person but not so nice behind the back. Before he left primary school, there wasn’t much that could seem to have gone wrong. But after June 1996, there was about to be a whole other story develop, as adolescence was about to play a big part. There were other events which also may have affected the outcome of how the young man was going to turn out. Bright academically, didn’t have a clue socially.
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Day one. New school. Number of people he knew at the outset, none. It all boded well for being bullied for his gift of mathematic ability and his lack of physical presence, but there was still one person yet to be accounted for. Within the first day where he was completely nervous, a relatively unknown trait before hand, he had met a lad who was already 12 as he was one of the eldest in the year group (a birthday of September 1st gave him that accolade), but there started a rare bond that was to last a relatively long time. While there were others giving him grief of a verbal nature, this one friend remained silent and diplomatic. Including the new comer to a group under his wing, he made the new kid on the block feel a little less outcast, even though there was a number of people this lad was yet to break through the bullying barrier of.
He really started off like he was intent on being the brains, after having been verbally bullied by his brothers over the first 11 years, he had kinda grown used to it, and was able to show a thick skin to any form of verbal banter that was thrown at him. Geek, Boffin, Nerd, he took it all in his stride, and although he struggled on the more thinking subjects, he still remained a couple of years ahead in terms of mathematical capabilities. Yes there was always going to be jealousy about his rare talent, but he was reluctant to let it affect him. Behind the scenes of the relatively bright young man, however, things were about to take a darkened turn for the worse. He didn’t know, he was always a believer that he would grow up with 2 parents.
1997 rolled around, he’d recently had his 12th birthday, and his oldest brother – at the tender age of 19, (just like his father before him), had got with a 16 year old girl. Yes they’d already been together a couple of years before that, and also went a phase earlier; they’d had a baby girl. The first niece for the young man, was born 15 days before his 12th birthday. He still had to attend school, but his younger sister was kept off school being ill, yet was able to go and see the birth. This was to prove to be a relatively big year. His other brother had moved out in 1996, due to working commitments post-school days, and his oldest brother had a little family unit of his own now, a partner, a baby girl, and also had moved out.
June 9th. Not one of the more impressive dates in the calendar. Still, it was the month that his parents had first met. It was also the month they had got married. What could go wrong? No-one predicted the outcome of this day. Raised voices the minute his dad had got through the door after work, was just the start. Arguments were just part of life, the young man thought. However, this one particular argument wasn’t going to end well. His father was tired of arguing, and didn’t believe it was the right environment to be bringing children up in. With that, the wedding ring which had been on his hand for 1 day short of 19 years, came off, and was launched across the living room. Soon after that, his father took off, took the car for a drive. His mother was in pieces. Even though he wasn’t sure what he was meant to be saying, he was still awake, and went down the stairs from the top bedroom, to go and comfort her. It was a partial relief that he was only sent to his bedroom rather than being given a bedtime as such, because this was a time it was needed.
Chapter 4
It was 2003. He was 18, and having had a failed year at college, starting, and dropping out, he was intrigued in pursuing a potential relationship. One girl in particular had caught his eye. A little bit of a strange history with being born in a bed next to someone else he’d grown to know over time, therefore sharing a birthday. This young woman had mouse-brown hair, was always conscious about her own self image which, albeit not particularly model-esque, she was attractive in her own ways. She enjoyed creative design, and was looking at potentially going to university. It took a number of months of pursuing, but eventually, July 19th 2003, she finally agreed to hook up with him. Her parents weren’t exactly keen on her new boyfriend, and as a result refused to allow him into their home. What she’d told them wasn’t exactly the prettiest of pictures either, so it led to an impression that was less than pleasing to hear.
She had just finished college herself, having not dropped out and studied hard for 2 years. There was a love triangle prior to this, which made things reasonably awkward at points. He wasn’t part of this triangle. She had her eyes set on a guy, who in turn, preferred her best friend. This wasn’t likely to end nicely. So in the end while settling to at least give the young man a try, she was still a little caught up on everything else. Reluctant to let him buy much for her, she would often treat him instead, whether it was to food at the town’s Burger King, or a night in front of the TV watching the latest movie release, there was a lot to be said. She was a career driven individual. No-one knew how the future was going to pan out, and yet everything seemed to be rosy on the outside.
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When it looked like he had finally overcome the issues of being bullied for years in school, it was probably down to adolescence above everything else. He was 16 and had finished his exams, and was looking at potentially going into college. He had applied, everything was set up, all he really needed then was to go and get his results. This he had to wait another few weeks for, so in the meantime, he’d applied for a job at his local retail store. Yes he was only 16, and if he was taken on, he knew he’d be serving alcohol so would need to be compliant with the laws of the sale of age-restricted goods. This would require a member of staff who was 18 or above acknowledging that he was doing so. Initially, he looked for as many hours as he could get – although having made up his mind to enter college, he also had to revert back to a minor detail of working just weekends. This would help him fund his way through college for books/equipment and more, so within the first few weeks he was initially on a 12 hour contract, yet working 40 hours a week because the time was available.
This opportunity was granted, although it wasn’t exactly the most ideal. His mother already had started herself on March 5th 2001, so for a mother and son to be working in the small environment of a local convenience store, it was a chance to pursue a potentially forwarding career. Ok, he would need to fully apply himself, and lethargy had already crept in to what he was doing, so it looked like a challenge that was destined to fail. Strangely enough, he took to college initially like a duck to water, but soon after making a few friends, he started skipping lessons, and eventually lost control of where he wanted to end up. Moving through the first four months of college, he’d eventually upped his working contract from 12, to 16, to 27 hours a week. This helped his mother out on 2 of those nights, because he would be there to ensure her safety at getting home, given that she wasn’t particularly fond of night-time, nor the fact the shop was right next to a pub.
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No-one had prepared them for this. No-one knew quite how things were going to turn out. He had nipped into the bathroom on the way down to comforting his mother and grabbed a handful of tissue. She had been crying for a while before his father had walked out, and he could hear that in her voice. His sister, although having been asleep, had also been disturbed, so the three of them sat, on the stairs between his sisters room and the living room, huddled together. What was going to be the outcome? No-one could have expected a singularly straightforward answer. The clock ticked around to 9:30pm, and his mother did remind them that they did have to still get up for school the next day. He was reluctant to let it be so, but she had tried to get hold of his brothers to let them know. The disagreement was how she summed it up to them, but she could do to sit down and talk with them when it was possible.
Having driven himself around for a few hours to cool down, the father returned. Everyone had long since gone to bed, so he lit up a cigarette. Due to a problem that the young man had suffered with for a number of years, he was the first one to wake up to the smell of smoke. Normally a heavy sleeper, he hadn’t slept properly that night, that’s for sure. He got up, and although it was only around 4am, he put the bath taps on and was set for having a freshen up. He didn’t know how to approach his dad about it, so he had his bath, took his dirty bedding down the stairs, and remained quiet. It wasn’t going to be easy, no matter how much his father said he loved him, it was destined to be a fair bit trickier.
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It was mentioned to him, that when he had turned 19, he wasn’t going to be counted for within the benefits system that his mother was claiming for. Yes she had been working for nearly 3 years by then, but she was on a very low income, and when he was 19 his side stopped, he would need to find a job to be able to pay his way. Ok so he was still at college after having flunked his first year. Flunked, but still passing his physics course with a grade albeit the lowest one before failing. Not bad for a handful of months worth of attendance. 2004 was upon them. He had been with his girlfriend now for 6 months, and through her, he was able to get a part time job where she was working. They had not long been making love, and through lack of using sufficient contraception, she found out she was pregnant. Even though abortion was not on his mind, they had a conversation, but eventually the decision was taken by her to attend an abortion clinic. She was relatively lucky – as the limit was 12 weeks and she was 11.5 weeks into it. Needless to say, he was not amused. You would have thought that they would have learnt from that, but no. A few weeks later, she found herself pregnant again. This time, with much talking and differences of opinion because she had wanted to develop her career, they decided to keep the baby.
May the 8th came along, and even though she’d decided to leave and pursue an office job, he was still in the place she’d got him into. The manageress had recently left, and weekends were down to covering managers, as no-one had filled the void. With a 17 year old cooking from 8am-1pm, and her 16 year old sister taking over between 1-2:30pm, there was a number of potential pitfalls had an investigator decided to dig deeper into it. The covering manager on the day had decided to take his 1 hour lunch break from 2pm, so responsibilities had fallen onto his shoulders. Being the only one above the age of 18, he made a conscientious decision to clean out the fryer that was left to be cleaned. If any accidents were had, he would be covered where the 16 year old would not. As things turned out, he did have an accident where the oil caught his right hand. Thumb and first two fingers more than anywhere else, so he instinctively went to run his hand under cold water. These were the digits bandaged by the hospital after the manager upon returning had decided that was to be done.
The following day, he was scheduled to be going to a theme park. Alton Towers. Packing wasn’t an issue, it was the choice of clothes he had decided to take, and wear on that day, that were a little hazardous. Too many buttons! He was a little frustrated, but upon arrival, his girlfriend helped him get dressed, and off they went for a two day trip. Somehow, even though he only had £20 for the two days, he managed to get through and survive. He’d decided that he wasn’t for the rides, he was more for the sideshows and as such became the luggage guy. On one of these sideshows, he thought he’d give it a go as he’d been throwing a few darts from time to time, and could at least score with either hand. The options were, for a small prize, score 49+ , for a large prize, score 99+, or for a giant prize, hit the prized 50 point bulls-eye. The first dart, he had hit a modest 11. Bearing in mind he was using his weaker hand because the burnt fingers were still bandaged at this point. The second dart, gave him hope that he could possibly win something, by hitting the green ring. The outer bull. This took his score to 36, with one dart remaining. I don’t think many would anticipate that his chances were good at getting anything, but with the third dart, he went alongside his ‘25’ pointer, but fortunately, it landed in the centre of the board and he was overjoyed. The giant prize, with which he asked his girlfriend what she would like, was a green snake. This was going to be interesting to get in the car to go home with.
Chapter 5
Ever since he had completed the first song he had written back in May of 2000, he had looked at developing musically. He had a keyboard now, and as a gift on his 18th birthday he was given an electric guitar. One little snag here, was that he didn’t have an amplifier to go with it, but it wasn’t long until he owned a 15 Watt Marshall branded amp. For obvious reasons he had to keep the volume down, because it did go fairly loud, but it enabled him to start developing how to play chords from popular songs. One of his first songs that he recalls learning was Eric Clapton’s hit, Tears In Heaven. Not one of the hardest songs to learn, given that he was more a pianist too, he adapted rather well to it.
With his keyboard and now the guitar to go with it, he was finding music rather enjoyable, and also a release. Over the next few years he would develop into learning popular songs and also melody lines for having a go with singing. In 2004, he had reformed a bond with his father after the issues over the previous 6/7 years, and they stumbled across a musical version of open mic nights. This would be where people would turn up with guitars and play primarily original music but some would drop the occasional cover song. The young man’s specialist area was cover songs, so he would occasionally drop in one of his own. By this point he had written a handful more in terms of lyrics, but only a few were put to music.
*********************
June 2001 wasn’t a particularly bright time for him, his mum, and his sister. This was the month, on the 13th of all days, which the finalisation of a divorce had come through. This was the curtain on an era which had seen 25 years of life pass by. Moving houses, 4 children and 2 grandchildren, the passing of all 3 of his grandparents that he had known, leaving friends of primary school behind, making new ones through secondary school. So much had happened, but this was the last event between the two of his parents. Yes there was bitterness. But a lot had been said on his part that nothing was going on with a woman who’s previous partner had allowed him into their house then left the scene. Didn’t seem logical to those in the know, so he sent a particularly damning email at the time.
There was every reason that his dad was believable, but to those more in tune, the pieces of the puzzle just didn’t add up. The following July – exactly 13 months later (It was July 13th), there was an event which happened, that confirmed that there was probably more going on behind the scenes. The wedding of his father and this other woman, later acknowledged to be step-mother – yet only tolerated as dad’s wife, because she made him happy. Over time – the bond, while fraught with tension, has slowly strengthened, yet there are still occasional tense moments.
*********************
So, December 6th 1996 was the first time he became an uncle. There was another addition on May 1st 1999, and to complete his older brothers family set up, there was a 3rd child, born on August 26th 2004. To complete this, there was a spring time wedding, on May 13th 2000. They are still married to this day, and like every family, have ups and downs.
His second brother, has a slightly bigger family. A daughter from a previous relationship, born on March 8th 2002, was his eldest birth child, but through online, started conversing with a woman who already had a son (may 1st 2004). Her son was born july 14th 1998, but by Apr 30th 2005, they were married. Over the next 7 years there was a son, August 22nd 2005, and two more daughters, born on May 31st 2007 and July 28th 2010.
Finally his sister, having had a 3 year relationship starting at the age of 15 with someone 8 years her senior, found her current husband through the second brother. Met up in 2006, she gave birth to her son on February 21st 2008. They got married on June 12th 2010, before she gave birth to her daughter on October 8th 2010.
*********************
The longest relationship he has been involved in, had numerous ups and downs. Working together, inability to enter her parents house (their decision was respected for all but one occasion), but then the decision to keep a baby less than 8 weeks after an abortion was had, wasn’t a popular choice. They had even agreed to open up a joint bank account in order to save for the birth, but there were a number of things to get through first. He wasn’t present at any of the scans. Her personal choice was to have her mother there, as with having a brother who was gay, this was going to be her mother’s only source of grandchildren.
A few other things went on prior to the birth though. Nights out, she would spend nearly 3 figures on as he would drink to excess while enjoying it. The job he was in folded as he was pushed into a position of quit or be sacked. He quit, and through the assistance of his two older brothers, ran by two jobs. One was pulling cables through underground pipes to connect telecommunications (broadband, TV, telephone), for one company, the other was assisting in carrying kitchen equipment (washing machines, cookers, dishwashers etc), in and out of customers houses. It was during a spell in the second job that the birth would happen.
He woke up at 5am. Today was loading day. It took a matter of moments to piece some lunch together. 3 sandwiches, a couple of bags of crisps, chocolate, and a £5 for drink/cigarettes. His oldest brother came to pick him up and they set off for a relatively quiet day according to the sheets. Excitement was getting to him as he spent most of the day chatting about being a dad but by 5pm the working day was through. That evening around 7pm, his own dad came and picked him up, and they decided to go and visit the brother he’d been working with all day. Playing a few games of football on a games console, around 10pm it was discussed that the young man should call the parents of his girlfriend. When he did phone them, he got through to her dad, who then informed him that she was on her way to the hospital. A bit of a panic ensued, but he was feeling a little annoyed at the same time. Why wasn’t he called to be informed of this? After a few minutes he had been give £7 to get coffee/chocolate if needed overnight, and was given a lift to the hospital.
Arriving at the hospital he was aware that it might take a few moments, so he buzzed and waited for an answer. Given that it was so late, would he be allowed to go in or would he be stopped at the last hurdle? Thankfully for him, the person on the other end of the intercom was accepting of the situation and allowed him in. He soon found his way to where his girlfriend was. By now it was 11pm, and although he was starting to feel a little drained, he was running on adrenaline and caffeine. This was single-handedly the most important thing in his life right now. Yes so working wasn’t constant, nor was it permanent in recent years, but nothing could compare to the fact he was not long away from being a dad himself. As the clock ticked around to 3am, he was half awake/half asleep. He was really struggling to keep going although she wasn’t quite ready to give birth. At 3:39am however, on the morning of Tuesday February 22nd 2005, that was the time given that she had given birth. He weight 7lb 8oz. His son, was finally here.
He dozed off for a little bit just after, and she was advised to get some rest too, but before long, it was 7am. He was advised to go home and get some sleep and a shower and come back fresh. By 1pm he was back there. Along with all grandparents (her parents, his parents, his dad’s wife) , and a few other family members, this was a proud occasion. One that would stick with him regardless of whatever route the future decided it was going to take.
*********************
It had been 16 months since he had been back in this job. He wasn’t liking it. Nor was he liking the manager and his “do as I say, not as I do” approach. August 8th, 2006, he decided he’d finally had enough, and for all the world it looked like he was leaving, and not likely to return. 3 weeks, and a telephone interview later, he found himself starting in his first ever office job. Yes it was a temporary to permanent position, and taking the first three months would have made everything alright. One little slip up on a night out, and a reluctance to return home to bed, he turned up at 1:30am, which was enough to remove himself from being taken on permanently. This wasn’t the best of ideas, considering he had at that point recently taken out a contract phone that he now wasn’t going to be able to pay for.
Roll on the end of 2006, and the start of 2007. The first half of the year this young man wishes he could just honestly forget had happened. Having lost the job, and racking up an unpayable phone bill, he wasn’t looking forward to future events. This got a little too much for his mother (yes, at 22 he was still living at home), and she decided she couldn’t cope any more. She evicted him, and he had to find somewhere extremely quickly. Through a friend of his, he managed to find a room to be able to crash in for the immediate future. There he made one of the biggest decisions that he’s ever considered. He gave up at being a dad. Something he regretted from the minute he’s done it until now.
Chapter 6
So it was a rare event. His county of residence played the sport of cricket in a country championship where they all competed in a home/away round robin. Being a fair weather sport, this was subject to conditions, as moderate to heavy rain would affect some games throughout the summer season. It was mid-afternoon, and school was out for the day. Along with his friend from that first day of the new school, they grabbed a bite to eat, and went for a gentle stroll to go and watch. From all reports this was going to be the last time there was a game in their town, so they went to make the most of it.
This was an eye-opener to the sport. Yes they’d played computer games, but they weren’t entirely realistic. They’d also watched professional matches, internationally speaking, where the main contingent of countries who played, were part of the British Empire a hundred years previously. England had hit rock bottom just the year before, so there was only going to be one potential route for them. His friend was a little more interested and had managed to filter in an indoor game as an after school activity at the school, through one of the supporting employees who often helped those with learning disabilities.
*********************
Barely a month had gone. His son was still ever so tiny, but he wanted to do something that he’d never done before – even though this was his first relationship. Through one of his exploits in his job, he’d spotted a hotel in a town along the southwest of the country. So he thought he’d treat his girlfriend to a night out, aiming to stay at that very hotel. Even though he’d let his theory test expire so he would have to retake it before doing a practical on his driving lessons, he was taking a serious risk. A provisional licence with no L=plates on the car, no insurance covering in case of accident, and a 4-week old in the car too, he was intent on going for a 4 hour journey to go and stay at this hotel.
The clouds had filled the sky. Overcast, but not raining, and the forecast for the destination was a little more favourable. A spring afternoon at around 5pm, she pulled up at his. A little 1.1 litre engine powered purple Nissan Micra was the vehicle that she owned, so they were going to travel in it. And yes, he’d taken the decision to be driving it. Setting off around 15 minutes later, the journey was going to be fun. Conversation flowed while the radio played away in the background. Even though there was the 4 week old baby in the back, he was going to get them to stay somewhere overnight, even if it wasn’t the intended location. The initial destination proved evasive, turning a 4 hour journey into a 6 hour journey, but they managed to find a hotel an hour or so away from the seaside. There were other options nearby as to where to get to the seaside, but he wanted to specifically revisit one town in particular. He had been there 7 times before, and wasn’t about to miss that opportunity.
*********************
So he was turning 18. Finally after nearly 1.5 years of letting other colleagues know he was selling alcohol, he would be able to legally serve it without disrupting others. And as it was a once in a lifetime occurrence, he asked his boss if he could get a day off. Retail and December days off never mixed as it was the busiest spell that anywhere was likely to have, but when he was granted the choice, he opted for the day after his birthday as the day to have off. After all, he was going to be legally able to drink, so he thought he may need the day after to recover.
Ok, he was only scheduled to be working 8am to 4pm, but he was up as soon as his alarm went off. It was 6:42am, and there was still no sign of sunrise. It was December after all, and in the northern hemisphere, the shortest day (for daylight hours), was frequently his birthday. He stretched his legs, and went downstairs to get a morning coffee. This was going to be a long day, he felt, and was intent on making a statement of intent. A coffee and a cigarette later, he felt ready to tackle the day’s employment. This was going to be a lot of fun, as everyone who knew him, knew this was going to be a big day all around. Even when he turned up at work, there was a birthday banner amongst all the Christmas decorations. The 8 hours flew by, and, although it wasn’t planned to be that way, it was a Saturday, so it was likely to be quite busy for the pre-planned meal out.
On his way out of the door at the end of his shift, his boss stopped him. There was one extra present that he hadn’t expected, but a bottle of wine was given to him. He was left speechless by this, and excitedly went home. A little too enthusiastically for his mother when he got through the door, and he still had little under 4 hours to wait for dinner. However, there was a little selection of snacks set out on the table in the living room. He didn’t think it would be worthwhile getting changed for 2 hours before preparing to go out, so he snacked on the nibbles in his work uniform. He was quite fortunate that there was no spillages, and was also given a licence to have an alcoholic beverage with it.
Sitting down at the meal those few hours later, he was with all but his two nieces and nephew, his sister, his brothers and their partners, his mum, one of his mum’s sisters and his dad. This was a sizeable group, but with good reason. Everyone was there to have a meal and celebrate his day. He opted to go for a nice piece of rump steak. Not to choose one of the more expensive dishes on the menu, but because he fancied trying something different. Barely 2 hours later the meal was finished, and a suggestion to go and celebrate with a few drinks in a couple of town locations, was followed up. 6 of the group went out, leaving his mum, her sister, and his own sister to go home as his sister was only 15 and not of a legal age to be drinking. It was going to be fun evening.
First stop was a hotel, unusual but it had its bar open to the general public. It was Christmas time, and they were expecting to make a few extra sales by doing so. Everyone was having a good time and even having a bit of a dance. Even the bar staff got in on the act, and although no ID was asked for (he was wearing a badge but that’s not always believable), he was given a drink on the house. The full Christmas spirit was in swing, coupled with his birthday, meant it was a double celebration. As the clock hit midnight, his oldest brother and her partner decided they were going to call it a night. The group had been whittled down to 4, and only one was over 25.
As the hotel decided it was going to call time at the bar, there was a few places suggested, but they opted to go into a place that should have been for only over 25’s. Before they got there he was advised and wisely so to remove his badge. That might not have finished the evening off in the way it turned out to. But with no-one asking for id, 3 of them got in technically illegally. Given that it was a Saturday night at a busy time of year, it was something that should have being clamped down on. But fortunately for them it wasn’t. Inside this venue, he, although pretty drunk by this time, had presence of mind to, while having a dance, spot one of the people he knew from his street. A rare occurrence, but this was his first legal exchange of cash for alcohol in public environments.
To end the evening of jolly fun and gimmicks, the other 2 under 25s left with him and his dad, both decided they were going to get a taxi and head home. It took until time was called, before him and his dad were leaving. It had been an eventful evening. Lots of dancing, lots of drinking. Now the night was drawing to a close, but whilst waiting for a friend of his dad to come and pick them both up, his dad was running across the road and back. Fortunately for them, the actual traffic flow that evening was next to none, so there was very little chances of anything going wrong. When the car arrived, it was armed with 2 carrier bags, but they weren’t required. Yes the two of them had a pretty bad day of it the following day, but it was worth it for the full on enjoyment. His 18th birthday had been a long day, but a brilliant one for him at the time. After the problems on his 17th, having been forgotten by many, this was a memorable one, and would be remembered for all the fun that had taken place.
*********************
It was recession time. Throughout the year before he’d mainly been stuck in agency employment, most of them lasting for 3-4 weeks before university and college students came in on their summer breaks, until one agency landed him multiple roles with one company through the autumn months. That came to a close a couple of weeks before Christmas, yet there was still another week for another company before he was out of work yet again. Yet for some strange reason – with 2.5 years experience in a cafe kitchen, he plumped for applying to be a kitchen porter. This was likely to be a slightly different experience to the cafe role, because it was for a global hotel chain. He was granted the chance to have an interview, which opened up a can of worms for potentially superstitious people. It was scheduled for Friday 13th February, 2009. 10 days later, he was starting there.
The first few months, things started off relatively slowly, but there were 3 porters. By the end of that April, his two colleagues left, but there was no-one to replace them, meaning as the only recognised porter, he wasn’t sure quite what he was going to be expected to do. On top of all that, the new head and sous chefs were due to be starting the first day he was the solo porter. First impressions showed that he wasn’t exactly the best physically, yet he had to space out his attributes and time of day with which he was energetic. They were long days, and a lot of hours went into that week. Out of a routine 120 hours that had been being given a week to the 3 porters, he found himself working 80, with one of his colleagues working 21 as a makeshift porter, having spent 7 years doing the exact same role.
There are many ways in which one can be creative. My personal preference would be in music, and I have some self-made compositions in place online. Am I willing to share them here? If I wasn't I don't think I'd be posting this entry.
I am also in the middle of writing what could be considered as a novel (although recently had a block on what exactly I was writing), as well as a non-psyche perspective on how peoples choice of reactions could be the reason why they end up complaining about their life, the latter being fairly hard hitting opinion - and I may well post it on here at some point.
Recently, my own creativity has taken a back seat, through circumstances and situations that are beyond my realms of control - I'm currently unemployed so the focus isn't on creation, it's on jobhunting - and in times of 'recession' - it's not the easiest thing in the world to do, so it takes up time.
Anyway - this will be a relatively short one.
Here's one of my own creative tracks (Instrumental - I'm not the best singer)
Shaken
I am also in the middle of writing what could be considered as a novel (although recently had a block on what exactly I was writing), as well as a non-psyche perspective on how peoples choice of reactions could be the reason why they end up complaining about their life, the latter being fairly hard hitting opinion - and I may well post it on here at some point.
Recently, my own creativity has taken a back seat, through circumstances and situations that are beyond my realms of control - I'm currently unemployed so the focus isn't on creation, it's on jobhunting - and in times of 'recession' - it's not the easiest thing in the world to do, so it takes up time.
Anyway - this will be a relatively short one.
Here's one of my own creative tracks (Instrumental - I'm not the best singer)
Shaken
The title may have grabbed your attention. But will you read this through fully?
Selfishness has been around since, well, the first involvement of a human species. From requiring to hunt food to survive, mankind has had to rely on some degree of animal cruelty. It does sound a little unusual to think of it in that way, but how else would people have evolved to the population of today's world if they were only doing what they knew? Hunt because they are hungry or risk dying which happens regardless?
In today's climate, selfishness is even more apparent.
There are places designed to rear animals for food. Isn't that actually cruel beyond belief that we as a species have a dictatorship power over animals lives? We aren't majorly different - most of us have a capacity to put a stop to this, but first world countries take this for granted. Ok, there was a recent food "scandal" including horsemeat being found in beefburgers, but how many people were truly affected?
I personally would say journalism is as pathetic as bullying in some cases - it's a controlled way of mainly feeding the general public bad news. So much focus on getting a story that sells it doesn't matter who is affected behind it - but if anything good happens, does it get equal treatment? No. Does the good stuff overall actually balance the bad? I'm not sure there's enough good reported to the same extent.
There are judgements passed on people without getting to know anyone beyond a looks perspective (including what people wear), abuse/bullying is rife throughout many people orientated places (workplaces, social environments, schools, at home, etc), but when those on the receiving end consider trying to speak out to seek help, there are many occasions where they are dismissed and not listened to properly. Is it the system itself? Or is it the way people behave towards others? Sometimes it's learned behaviours from parents/guardians/social inclusions, but that still doesn't give them a right to abuse anyone in any way.
One of the things I remember being taught as child, is the following phrase. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." What does this mean, I hear you ask? It is very simple. Think first. Would you want to receive what you're about to dish out? If the answer is "yes" then ok, go ahead. But if the answer is "no" - stop.
Are people treated differently overall? Yes. Even when places claim to treat everyone equally, particularly in large organisations, there will be elements of discrimination at some points. Whether it's internally among their staff, or between staff and clientele, the proportion that goes unnoticed is too high really. And in these unnoticed cases, it can take something as severe as a death in order to highlight the failings, but there's a lack of disciplinary action for all levels involved (especially if concerns have been raised on multiple occasions - or records have been incorrectly filled in.)
Gossiping and rumours can also be considered selfish. Rumours can be like bad news, and travel fast, depending on who starts them. (If a popular person started one about a person who does a lot on their own, it would be considered true by the 'masses' without bothering to consider the individual on the receiving end, for stepping outside the 'rumour' could cause potential isolations from the 'masses' for anyone who did.)
And yes, I have been known to be partial to having a debate about someone I am not too familiar with. I am human too. Having been on the receiving end of verbal abuse for a high proportion of my life, is it something I would be likely to do from the psychological perspective of learned behaviour? Yes. Is it way to potentially fit in with groups of others? Yes. Is it something that I should be doing? Following my own words, no.
With the current interpersonal relationships being more and more heavily reliant on 'social activities' - what harm would it do to look for the ones who are 'cast aside' because of their differences and including them? They might be awkward at first, but inclusion could go a long way towards making a significant impact on their life. Isolation is a growing concern (in terms of the number of people, maybe not percentage of population) - and is often a result of some form of abuse.
Can we make a difference? On our own, maybe not, but if we remembered that everyone is human and should be treated the same irrespective of backgrounds, we might be able to start to dismantle some of the selfishness that goes along with life.
Selfishness has been around since, well, the first involvement of a human species. From requiring to hunt food to survive, mankind has had to rely on some degree of animal cruelty. It does sound a little unusual to think of it in that way, but how else would people have evolved to the population of today's world if they were only doing what they knew? Hunt because they are hungry or risk dying which happens regardless?
In today's climate, selfishness is even more apparent.
There are places designed to rear animals for food. Isn't that actually cruel beyond belief that we as a species have a dictatorship power over animals lives? We aren't majorly different - most of us have a capacity to put a stop to this, but first world countries take this for granted. Ok, there was a recent food "scandal" including horsemeat being found in beefburgers, but how many people were truly affected?
I personally would say journalism is as pathetic as bullying in some cases - it's a controlled way of mainly feeding the general public bad news. So much focus on getting a story that sells it doesn't matter who is affected behind it - but if anything good happens, does it get equal treatment? No. Does the good stuff overall actually balance the bad? I'm not sure there's enough good reported to the same extent.
There are judgements passed on people without getting to know anyone beyond a looks perspective (including what people wear), abuse/bullying is rife throughout many people orientated places (workplaces, social environments, schools, at home, etc), but when those on the receiving end consider trying to speak out to seek help, there are many occasions where they are dismissed and not listened to properly. Is it the system itself? Or is it the way people behave towards others? Sometimes it's learned behaviours from parents/guardians/social inclusions, but that still doesn't give them a right to abuse anyone in any way.
One of the things I remember being taught as child, is the following phrase. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." What does this mean, I hear you ask? It is very simple. Think first. Would you want to receive what you're about to dish out? If the answer is "yes" then ok, go ahead. But if the answer is "no" - stop.
Are people treated differently overall? Yes. Even when places claim to treat everyone equally, particularly in large organisations, there will be elements of discrimination at some points. Whether it's internally among their staff, or between staff and clientele, the proportion that goes unnoticed is too high really. And in these unnoticed cases, it can take something as severe as a death in order to highlight the failings, but there's a lack of disciplinary action for all levels involved (especially if concerns have been raised on multiple occasions - or records have been incorrectly filled in.)
Gossiping and rumours can also be considered selfish. Rumours can be like bad news, and travel fast, depending on who starts them. (If a popular person started one about a person who does a lot on their own, it would be considered true by the 'masses' without bothering to consider the individual on the receiving end, for stepping outside the 'rumour' could cause potential isolations from the 'masses' for anyone who did.)
And yes, I have been known to be partial to having a debate about someone I am not too familiar with. I am human too. Having been on the receiving end of verbal abuse for a high proportion of my life, is it something I would be likely to do from the psychological perspective of learned behaviour? Yes. Is it way to potentially fit in with groups of others? Yes. Is it something that I should be doing? Following my own words, no.
With the current interpersonal relationships being more and more heavily reliant on 'social activities' - what harm would it do to look for the ones who are 'cast aside' because of their differences and including them? They might be awkward at first, but inclusion could go a long way towards making a significant impact on their life. Isolation is a growing concern (in terms of the number of people, maybe not percentage of population) - and is often a result of some form of abuse.
Can we make a difference? On our own, maybe not, but if we remembered that everyone is human and should be treated the same irrespective of backgrounds, we might be able to start to dismantle some of the selfishness that goes along with life.
