Pain Is So Close to Pleasure.

Finally, a blog about what this blog was designed for, social interaction, going out and having fun with lovely people, as usual I’m getting ahead of myself, lets start at the beginning, or somewhere close to it!

The last year has been pretty bleak for the wife, I have been pulling out all the stops possible to support her, sometimes successful, sometimes not, I knew it was going to be a slog but I was in it for the long haul, she has helped me over the years its time for me to step up to the plate, the week started kind of low key especially after the previous week for me (see previous blog) to be honest I had walked it off, gave my head a shake and simply moved on, it might rear its head at some point but at the moment it hasn’t so for now onwards!

The wife kind of causally mentioned that we had been invited to a birthday party and do I think if we should go, (erm hell yeah) I didn’t push it I simply said it would be good for her and her anxiety, the coming Friday was to be the one year anniversary of the passing of the Kraken, it was time to move on and this would be the best way to do it, all through the week I nudged her when it was needed, and held my tongue when I needed to, I wasn’t going to spook her, it all looked good in the hood until we had a plague of Flies and Bluebottles, to be truthful this could have worked either way, but we dug our heels in and eradicated the enemy, but It wasn’t an easy task and we used everything that we could muster, Fly paper well that was crap, the wife spraying fly spray like she was the Red Baron at times the air hung heavy like the trenches at the Somme heavy with Mustard gas, we even bought an electronic fly zapper which killed wave after wave of them, we had no idea where they were coming from but the wife’s (she hates them) stress levels were through the roof,.

As the week moved slowly to the finish line, there were small hints that she was going to make it, should I go the hairdressers? (I would) just a little encouragement but it worked, she went off to her appointment, but she was a little longer than expected ( I actually had everything crossed that she would go into Ruby Tuesdays a boutique just up the road from us……she did) a new top and just a little spark in her face, baby steps baby steps, The Hurricane was coming to stay for the night simply to give his parents a respite, and for us to have a pleasurable evening in his company, as he is generally good for us, I know that will change at some point but this time it worked, Saturday morning came and this would be the test of everything, The eldest as usually ran on her time line not the worlds, I was getting a little testy (what me obsessed with time…..no, never)  we had a few chores out in Gimpsville once the Hurricane departed, I took a minor strop ( yes it was time related, my issue nobody else’s, nobody was harmed in the making of this strop) chores completed we headed home and relaxed.

Then came the time to make a start to get ready, I don’t take a lot (have you met me) to get  ready, but I could feel anxiety levels starting to rise if they just started to rise even a little, it could make this horse bolt from the field, a conversation had taken place earlier in the day were I placed my cards on the table, the time to mourn was over the wife had had 365 days one full year of mourning, to be honest she has been a whole lot better than I thought she would have been, but we were still having moments, then we were in the car this could actually happen, I didn’t care were we were going I was simply happy to be sat next to the wife heading straight out of Gimpsville!

Our destination was The Cluny in Newcastle, I sensed a little apprehension whilst looking for a parking space, thankfully we found one close to the venue, and I felt the nerves bugger off as we walked down the short walk down to the venue as the wife saw people who she knew from many, many years ago, good friends was what she needed and its what she got, I moved to join the huge queue at the bar (the Cluny is a small music venue in Newcastle and the fact that it was hosting two gigs on the night proved why it was busy) I do like the place its different, however the prices are ridiculous, obscure beers, imported beers, all more cheaper than soft drinks (WTF) that’s my only complaint it has a great vibe, maybe its because its so long that I have been out for a social occasion, and its not a Wetherspoons so prices are bound to be higher, I was accosted in the queue not once but twice and people who were with me and the wife on our first official date (The Silence of the Lambs) maybe it was a good omen, once robbed I mean served, I made my way outside to chat the wife and some of her friends who I knew by face but hadn’t really spoke to them before other than to say hello, I needn’t have worried as the night was already proving to be a winner.

More people arrived, people who I knew better, the wife and I have been together 33 years and sometimes I feel like an interloper, but in all of the time I have never been made feel like one, the friendliest bunch of people, thankfully there was also one or two people I knew before I met the wife, including someone I went to school with, as I said repeatedly over the course of the night “it’s a small world, I simply wouldn’t like to paint it!” and there’s me thinking I would be like baby in the corner, it simply wasn’t the case I had a great night I apologise to everybody I talked to death, its been a while LOL, thank you all for not telling me to bugger off!

Then there was the only call of the night were I thought there could be trouble, group photo time, if you know me I don’t do pictures, I simply have the face for radio, I have no idea what to do in the bloody thing, the few that I have seen of me are simply cringeworthy (yuk) but the wife wasn’t wanting to play, some simple cajoling looked like it was heading towards the invasion of a small country, thankfully the crisis was averted, piccy taken we all got back on with the night and what a night it was simply just what the Dr ordered, a success. So why the title for the blog  (yes the name game is in play) well I stood for over three ours and I was close to tears as I headed back to the car, I didn’t know how I was going to fit in the bloody car, the drive back was enjoyable apart from the state of my knees, we had fun with a capital F, the only downside was that potentially we wouldn’t get food as the takeaways were full of drunken people and we didn’t want to wait with them, so I made sandwiches and chilled and I went to bed before the wife, no surprise there then!

Now this where it gets weird, simply because most mornings I am up out of bed between 4 and 5, this morning the wife asked why I was still in bed, I had no sensible answer, actually I never have a sensible answer, who am I trying to kid, today has been a great day, partially because of the afterglow of last night it did us the world of good, hopefully that shines out from the lines of this blog, more of life, the good life please. Our chores completed (food shopping) and then lunch and then I snoozed, (damn I feel old…..ish) and then I had to attempt to write a blog that was of a joyous occasion, how the hell do you do that, easily very easily as it happens, once again thanks to everybody who made the night such a success, no bullies were drowned in the town, there was no attempt to even to drag their bodies even close to the Tyne, the night was Fab and yes it was spelt with a capitol F.

So, there we go another one written with some ideas for the next one, it could be a “Now hear This” blog as I have been inundated with questions mainly about the blog but also some directed at me, but that’s  for another time, please keep spreading the disease, click like, whatever you guys and girls have been doing because the numbers have been huge, stay safe, stay alive and until the next time ………….Toodles!

 

One last little paragraph for peeps, I write in code and only I actually know the code, suck  it up its not aimed at anybody, its meant to be fun although some adult themes do get covered occasionally, its my version of the night not other peoples versions, there’s would be how the hell do I get away from this boring twunt, easy I have bad knees I cant run after you!

Father to Son.

 

I think this one is going to be a little weird, its based around two similar coincidences, but as always, I’m getting ahead of myself!

This blog probably could be called jealousy (I know I have already used the title) I’m not sorry how my life has gone but I do feel as though I have missed something, but I’m not sure what, what I do know is that my mother did a bloody good job bringing two boys up all on her own with next to no help from anybody, she’s the person that makes me proud!

I do believe I’m the product of my father, at least some of his traits, well at least his hairstyle! a person I haven’t had contact with since Christmas Eve 1973, I have covered some of this in previous blogs, but I have never nailed it to the mast so to speak, when I started this blog I spewed 9000 words like there was never going to be another tomorrow, and a lot of it was way more weird than what this will turn out to be, our family unit simply got on with it, we were two young boys and my mother explored options of going back to the work place after being a stay at home mother for 13 years (remember the days when mothers could stay at home and look after the kids, you didn’t need two wages simply to survive), I know I have covered this part of my life, we all grew thick skins and took revenge on the asshats that made our life hell when it was their turn.

I never really thought about him in my life after he left, he left, he didn’t want to have any connection to his son’s life, like the earth, life moves on, he left when I was 7 and disappeared totally from our lives two years later, Christmas Eve, I know I have written about that night, it’s the main reason why I hate Christmas, so obviously it affected me and I simply didn’t know it had at the time. Life moved on, we did our best, I fought with my brother, he fought with me, we defended each other when we had to! we both had a love of music and by and large we were good kids, we weren’t perfect but we tried our best, I’m sure my brother got up to crap that I didn’t know about, and I know I got up to a ton shit he has no idea about.

School finished, I went in the army I was medically discharged; I came back home with no game plan and no clue about life, the one time in my life I could probably have done with a father he was no where to be seen, or so I thought! We will circle back around to that at some point, I was a drunk, more than likely an arsehole, although that was never my intention, it appeared that my ship was leaking and I simply didn’t even have the skills to pump it out, I met a girl and married her (big mistake) she knew my issues and I honestly believe now that she played on them, got what she wanted then fucked around, was I in the right frame of mind, probably no more than 25% of the time, I tried getting help from the family group, but it would appear that it was a no go area, suck it up buttercup, so I sailed for fresh horizons with my hold still full of issues, again I wasn’t trying to be difficult I simply didn’t have the tools to deal with my issues, thankfully I took my foot off the drinking pedal, that helped, I still drank, boy did I drink, but finally I met the wife and she did all the good things in my life, the leaks were still there but I had an equal I could sound off to, although even in those early days I knew that I could be “difficult” I needn’t have worried the wife soon brought me back to earth!

I had been with the wife nearly two years when she took an interest in family history, she struggled with hers but by and large she found my family quite quickly, I had tried to ask pertinent questions about my mother’s side of the family before I met the wife. I was interested only in my mother’s side of the family, some names I knew, I simply wanted a little more of the back story, I was met with a total wall of silence, my mother simply didn’t wish to discuss it, so when I tried my namesake Uncle, all I got from him was, “what has your mother said”, when I replied “nothing” his reply was “that’s what you will have to make do with”, my jaw simply hit the ground, was my family a set of sleeper agents, I doubt it but it would have been easier to get information from the KGB, I kid you not.

So again I slipped away from my moorings with no further information, and I simply put it to the back of my mind, I was annoyed but being annoyed wasn’t going to win the day, I was honest and told my mother I wasn’t looking for my father, I simply wanted to know about our family, unfortunately we never spoke on the subject again, my brother would simply get angry if I tried broach the subject with him, he was angry that our father had left, my brother is the double of our father, I took after my mothers side, my brother legally had my fathers name removed as he was so pissed off at him, my brother and father shared a fondness for cricket (yawn) and they both played for local teams (not at the same time), at one game someone mentioned that our father was a good bloke and that my brother was the spit of him, my brother had to be dragged away and the first over he bowled against him, the gentleman suffered just a tad, he was sent by ambulance to the local hospital, a broken jaw I believe, my brother was quite good at the game, maybe my brother had bigger issues than me!

My wife wasn’t put off and I decided I wanted to know where my mothers father was buried I knew the church, but him being buried in 1963 the year before I was born, being a Scotsman he refused to pay for a stone, and by the time I took an interest the church yard had fell into disrepair, we found who was looking after the church and we sent off a request for information, I then forgot about it, about 6 weeks later we got a lovely letter from the Curate of the church who gave me a ton of information including his grave site (one of three unmarked graves in the church yard) and loads of information about my mothers family, documents and lots of information we hadn’t asked for, if only it had ended there, the last paragraph detailed my fathers side of the family and where his parents lived, I never met them,  other than his brother who I met once and I knew his sons kind of, my brother was in the same senior school so I suppose he had some kind of interaction what I don’t know and I now have no intention of ever asking!

The last sentence stopped me dead, it said that my grandfather lived with His son Norman until 1986 in his family home, now I knew where that home was, I drove past it everyday for 7 months while I worked for the National Coal Board, at a time when me his youngest son was suffering severe mental stress and could have done with a helping hand, I drove past the house twice a day, nearly twenty years of torment poured out of me and I got just a little drunk and I was as angry as I had ever been, I lashed out at my mother and brother and it was touch and go as to whether the family group would stay together, but they both denied knowing that my father had indeed been there, time healed the rift and it simply was never mentioned again, although I struggled to believe that they didn’t know he was there as my other uncles wife’s family lived around 30 yards away and they knew who my dad was, now something that I thought hadn’t bothered me started to gnaw at my very soul and it would always resurface at my darkest hours, I have no idea why someone who could have some semblance of  relationship with his children wouldn’t, was there something that the family had done to warn him off, I have no idea as the only members of the family I speak to (we are not a big family, there’s a couple of other cousins who choose not to speak to me, they do speak to my brother) is my brother and a cousin and his wife who live in Scunthorpe, the days indeed got darker, it was there and then that the doubts sprouted like weeds, I could pull them out but they would always come back, insidious thoughts deep in the dark!

We got on with life My mother died aged 70 in 2004, and life went on, the weeds came through less but they were still there, and the questions oh so many questions, did he have another family, had he remarried, things that in reality shouldn’t have bothered me did, simply as I imagined him and his new family enjoying Christmas, did he ever think of us his two boys, did he ever think of that Christmas Eve when he sat and watched from a warm pub while his two young sons stood in the dark waiting for him to appear, something he did when a policeman who was walking the beat (remember when they did that) asked me and my brother what we were doing, he turned up out of the nowhere saying he had been held up and he was going to take us home then, maybe my distrust of people started at that moment. What doesn’t help me on Christmas eve is that I live 100 yards from that spot the pub and the telephone box is still there!

Was this when I became a problem, is this when I tried too hard to have friends, I notice a lot of my friends from home have distanced themselves from me, is this the reason, was I difficult? probably, but I would have done anything for them (and I did frequently)  now I can hear you asking what has brought this back to the front of my mind, well the wife has started again picking at the threads of the families, she is still struggling with hers, but again she rattled through mine finding out a little more, and then came the kicker, when we had asked the church about my Poppa (grandfather) in 1993, it turns out that my father was already dead he actually died in 1990, he had been dead over three years by the time we asked.  I don’t know how, I don’t know where he was living, how he was or indeed anything at all about his life, not that he seemed bothered about mine! and now I feel just a little guilty, but why the hell should I?  I found out 31 years after the event that the man was dead, and who knew, I have no clue as to who I should ask, I’m certainly not going to have the conversation with my brother as I don’t wish to fracture the one remaining thread from my family suit, where do I go from here?

I love the family that me and the wife have created, I always tried to be a better dad than I had, I didn’t always succeed, I was a little bit too much a company sergeant major at times, I love my girls so much, thankfully I’m better with the grand kids, hey I wasn’t too bad with the girls but I always felt as though I had let them down. The one thing that haunts me and it’s making me doubt many of the things that I knew, is what I knew was it the truth or was it something that my actual family created and for some reason I was left out of it, I fear that in the future to come it will simply raise more questions than answers.

This was originally just over 9000 words of bile and anger, I hope by the time I publish it will simply be around 2400 words that have been polished into some semblance of order, I’m sitting somewhere between hating everybody who knew their dad and not having a clue what to do, except I do know I am indeed very jealous of those that knew their dads, mine may have been a cock I simply have no information to base it on other than what my family told me, and I’m not sure that I believe their narrative after all of these years, it would appear that I have to sail the seas like the Flying Dutchman filled with doubt and pity, a cargo I would much rather dump overboard and live a happier life, I haven’t so far, so I doubt its going to be fun and high spots from here on in!

And there you have it, my thoughts even if they have heavily redacted, and I’m back once to having an awful lot of sailing metaphors , I’m hoping that that will be a happier parlance than before, to those readers who know my story intimately, love your family even if they are shits, they are your only family, because once they are gone that’s it over and done, no second chances, no release, from all of the things that you have inside you, stay safe, stay alive, until the next one, play nice………..Toodles.

 

I just realised I’m now an officially an orphan!

Vielleicht Das Nächste Mal

My brother is a huge Ritchie Blackmore Fan, I am as well, but not as much as he is, it’s a long story that I wont bore you with here, other than to say it all started with Deep Purple’s Fireball, again it might just get mentioned in the next blog  (9000 words already I need to prune not demolish)I know this blog is late but all will be revealed in the next blog on Sunday, let’s go back to Mr. B, The first Rainbow album was nice but not awesome that came with Rising (still not beaten) and although I did see them on this tour, I didn’t see him with my brother he refused to take me and no amount of pleading would make him change his mind, not to worry I had friends in low places who would let me tag along.

The tour I wanted to see was Down to Earth and nothing short of a miracle could get me into the City Hall, so my friends opted to go in a Transit (with no MOT) and 9 of us crammed in, there had been a spare ticket and I bought it at face value, it was my first venture to Bingley Hall in Stafford, I think my brother was peeved that I was going to see this line up, I loved the gig and thankfully we left as long live rock n roll was finishing and before all night long started (I never did like either single from that album) it was a long drive back from Stafford and it snowed, thankfully I was staying in Durham and went home on the bus the day after, as the Van coasted to a stop outside my mate Mike’s house!

Then the band changed again (no surprise there then) and I couldn’t for love nor money get a ticket for the hall no matter how hard I tried, my brother was going and he lorded it over me, nobody was going to another gig everybody was going to Newcastle, I was gutted, that was until my brother realised that he was on Holiday in Salou at the time of the gig he was crushed, I bought (yes bought) his ticket off him, I could catch a lift off a friend who was going with another school friend it was all good in the hood, we got the bus to the gig but we were being picked up by his mum on the way home.

The gig was great I loved the new singer (Joe Lyn Turner) and  the new drummer, the gig itself was a great show, again I didn’t care much for the singles but hey ho beggars cant be choosers, what made the gig all the more sweeter was my brother was miserable in Salou (he admitted to that many years later) we headed into the centre of town and discovered that both of my mates parents had come pick us up, his mum drove us to outskirts of Newcastle and then his dad took over, like a formula one driver, the thing is it was Friday night so his dad may have had a couple (7) of pints , we all put our seat belts as we approached supersonic speed.

As we approached Rowlands Gill there appeared to be a gorilla, yes you read that right an actual gorilla standing in the middle of the road, my mates dad said and I quote this from 40 + years ago ,” I’m going to have to stop drinking I can see a gorilla” and then he promptly put his foot down, and we all screamed that we could see the same thing as he swerved at the last minute, and as the gorilla took his mask off and was shouting drunken abuse as we passed, if we hadn’t said anything that would have been one dead gorilla, it sort of put a twist on an awesome evening!

My brother came back and pointedly didn’t ask me, but I took great delight in telling how good a gig it was, he got the bootleg of the gig and found fault with most things but again years later he admitted it was a pretty good gig, not as awesome as the Dio or Bonnet line ups but still a great gig! Apologies for this being late (and being short) hopefully all will be revealed in the next blog, and the next one is a serious one, until the next one stay safe and stay alive………………Toodles!

Under Pressure.

Its been proven beyond a doubt, I’m an idiot, I set myself up to fail every single time, I overthink things (well I have of late) I have no idea why I do, but I do, the numbers were doing great so I got complacent, when I get complacent I start to over think things, I have had a number of blogs (I’m not telling you how many simply because it will underscore the fact that I am indeed a bloody idiot) as each day passed I got gradually unhappy with them , so guess what happened, yes I deleted the bloody lot over 13000 words worth of toil, to be honest the ideas had flowed and so had the words, but then I got complacent, and slowly but surely I stripped away what I thought wasn’t good enough, soon it all went the way of the shredder (figuratively speaking, no paper was harmed in the making of any blogs).

Why do I put myself under such pressure, I have no idea, ideas simply float past me like fire flies in the night they fade as quickly as they came, only my note books suffer they are bulging with half thought out ideas, which I think that they might be good, only for me to shred them as being rubbish, maybe I need to get an editor, who can save the good from the bad, no doubt I have posted some rubbish, that I thought was good enough to post, I seem to be caught up in a maelstrom these days, ideas are plentiful, the execution of them don’t seem to pass my exacting standards (oh how I wish I had standards) to be honest I should simply type them up and get them out, take the rough with the smooth, the numbers will speak for themselves, if its good it will fly if its rubbish it won’t!

I do enjoy writing the blogs, however I seem to be holding the new blogs up against old ones, I had done some work on the blogs recently and I soon realised that there was in my opinion a lot of dross, quality control doesn’t appear within my grasp, I need to give my head a shake, I do believe there was a couple of really good historical blogs, but once I stopped developing them I seem to get maudlin about them and simply don’t feel its good enough, it probably is, however my brain takes over and then doubts rain from the heavens and drowns any happiness I had for the blog, self-defeating, that’s why I am writing this one of the cuff and simply posting it and damn the torpedoes!

So the intention is to get this one out and try and write something fresh at short notice next Saturday, I will pluck an idea from my many journals and simply let the words flow, that’s the intention, lets see how we do, Numbers haven’t been brilliant for the last couple of blogs, however I have been happy with them, just they seem to have crawled, the last one was in double figures up until yesterday, when it burst into life and took off, maybe I should stop trying to workout why or how it works, the numbers for April were awesome the numbers for May were still good but simply about 50% of April, why do I bloody look, I’m glad I’m not a recording artist, I would be crying when I saw that the latest had only sold about 12 copies, as if I could sell that many tee hee!

So lets take the head shaking under control, I need (yet) another cunning plan, an editor possibly, my editor of choice isn’t available due to health issues, I also need to be able to come up with fresher material, rather than rely on historical blogs, not that I’m going to stop the historical ones, I need to crack the whip on myself and simply write my heart out and post the damn things one after the other, now there’s an idea, maybe just maybe, let’s see shall we!

So I shall try and be consistent this week lets see what I can do, I’m off for pyshio on Friday for my knees, I reckon they will say there’s nothing wrong with them and that I should suck it up buttercup, me a pessimist hell yeah I am, so here is the blog, as I sit with as much positivity as I can muster and I think I know what the next blog will be about and it should if all goes well feature a grown man in a monkey suit and no I am not on about someone wearing a tuxedo! so stay safe and stay alive, please keep spreading the word as I do prefer it when the numbers are on an upwards trajectory, until the next one ………………………..Toodles!