Sunday, 30 May 2010

It's my story.

Born in the north east of England to a family that worked in the local coal mines it seemed my life was pretty much marked out from the start. Go the school, get a job, find a wife and set about producing a fleet of children who would when there time come, mine the land. Simple enough eh? But this was not the case.
The mid seventies were a turbulent time and one by one the local coal mines began to close down. As the prospect of work got less and less my parents made the decision to move away in search of greener pastures.
We moved to the Cotswolds where in my opinion, everyone spoke with a funny accent and where there were far too many trees. I was about five years old and can well remember feeling very different to the children around me. Of course the fact I sounded so different only added to this.

It felt like my early childhood was spent desperately trying to fit in, but never quite getting there. I was probably about eight years old when I discovered every other local farm sold a thing called rough cider.
I soon realised the awkwardness I felt from day to day seemed to lift every time I took a drink, and even though I would almost always be sick, the relief outweighed the consequences. This was a trend that would follow me for many years to come.
As I grew through my teens the alcohol started to work less and less. Because of this I began to focus on other things in the hope I could feel a little bit better about myself. Of course it was always about me and as a result I would take advantage of anyone I got near. Lying, cheating and steeling became second nature. Almost anyone who got near me suffered as a result.
My family would say again and again “what’s wrong with you, why won’t you just behave?” The truth was that at the time I didn’t have a clue, I just knew I always wanted to be someone else.

As I came to the end of my teens I decided that the thing to fix me was a wife and a family. The results were disastrous. I didn’t have the ability to commit to anything by then (not sure I ever did). Around this time my mum died. I remember thinking how unfair it all was, even though I missed most of her funeral and was only really interested in getting people to feel sorry for me.
I went back to my then ex-wife that night looking for sympathy, had some food then as soon as she left the room I went through her purse to see what money I could steel. I would visit my two young children on Sunday afternoons all the time waiting for the chance to search for anything of value that might have been left where I could get to it. No body was safe.

By this time I had discovered a little relief from my self could be found in drugs, I always liked the ones that brought me down, and bring me down they did. Over the next few years I spiralled totally out of control. Move home, go to jail, lose access to my children, more prison, no friends, disowned by my family, move again. My life had become totally dominated by the constant thought of how can I get my next hit and what they had all done to poor old me.

I moved away from the Cotswolds and found myself living in a town on the south cost. At first I stayed with my sister steeling from both her and her twin 3 year olds. Then I moved to a tent in the local grave yard and then to a car park stair well. I would wake every day thinking I need to score. Armed with my trusty penny whistle I would play the one tune I knew until I made a tenner, score then do it all again.
Then one night I got in to a fight and ended up in prison yet again. They told me that if I stayed clean and got involved in some sort of recovery, I might, and only might get out a bit sooner. I did it, not because I wanted to stay clean but because I wanted to get out and use.

While I was in prison two members of Cocaine Anonymous came in and shared what it was like for them. They said things like “you don’t ever need to use again” and talked about a feeling of peace I had only dreamed of. It got me. Problem was I hardly ever took cocaine how could I be a member of Cocaine Anonymous.
I soon discovered the CA is not all about cocaine addiction; it is a fellowship of men and women practising a programme of recovery from all mind altering substances. I had been presented with a solution and all I needed to do was follow a few simple directions. I was told that CA use the twelve steps as laid out in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, why, simply because it works so well and has done for many years.

I started to get more and more active in my recovery listening to the advice of other people in the fellowship. When I got out of jail I found some one who could take me through the twelve steps and show me how to find some sort of peace in my life clean and sober.
I became very active in service both to CA and also to my fellow man. For someone as selfish and self-centred as me, that’s quite a thing. I have not taken a mind altering drug for over seven years now and although I would love to take the credit I can’t.
My life today is so different. I have a wonderful wife, an amazing two year old son, a job, a home, great friends and lots of other cool stuff. More then this I have peace. I no longer wake up thinking how will I score and what I can get from you.
The solution turned out to be so simple I almost missed it. I had to reach a point in my life where I had enough. Today I'm grateful I eventually did.

The swan.

Mrs D and me went out with the boy this afternoon on an epic duck feeding mission. We loaded up with as much stale bread as we could carry, and off we set. First stop, Littledown turned out to be a Little on the crowded side with people from all walks of life bombarding anything with feathers in a vain attempt to befriend the humble duck.

We decided a little local knowledge on the duck front would be wisely employed by setting off over the road to the Hospital. A wonderful lake around the back of Bournemouth Hospital provides a perfect resting place for many a run down duck. Unknown to both myself and Mrs D, it also provides the same for one, I repeat one great big bastard of a swan.

At first all seemed well, the little ducks gave the effect of smiling as they took the bread Jack offered in good spirit. Then the swan hoved in to view. Big as a house, hissing like a hissey thing with no intention of backing off. My family in danger, I sprang into action. Without a thought for myself I grabbed the pink rucksack Mr D had just put down and advanced on the beast.

Don't hurt him Mrs D shouted as I lunged toward the big White bastard. Seconds latter the beast turned and plodded off on it's merry way. I'm sure it glanced over it's swan like shoulder and gave me a go get fucked look, but I didn't care. I had protected my family, my work was done.

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Saturday, 29 May 2010


This afternoon me, Jack and Mrs D went to spend some time with some old friends we don't get to see that often. It was nothing mind blowing, we just spent some time together chatting and had a bite to eat while the kids played. Like I said, nothing mind blowing, unless of course your me that is. You see, for me this stuff is mind blowing.

For as long as I can remember I've found it hard to feel at ease with just anyone. For sure it's got better over the years, but sometimes I still have trouble, but not today, not with real friends. I can sometimes miss the importance of the people in my life, particularly the ones I don't get to see that often.

Today has reminded me of the importance of friendship and the responsibility I have to keep up my side of the deal.

Thursday, 27 May 2010

I'm just sticking around.

I well remember my first C.A. meeting, almost as if it was yesterday - although in reality it was over seven years ago. I went along with a friend simply because he told me good things about it and I liked the way he conducted himself.

This meeting was to become my home group for the next few years, a regular meeting every week where I knew people and they knew me. A place where I could be comfortable, not only hearing the message of Cocaine Anonymous, but also having the chance to give a little service and carry the message of C.A.

The meeting was, and still is, a Big Book audio meeting. We would listen to a chapter then open the meeting up for members to share. We use the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous in C.A. as our basic text. This is where we get the information to work the Twelve Steps and with that the solution to the life threatening illness we call drug addiction. We use this book very simply because it works, and has done for a long, long time.

After a short time I took on a commitment, I had been told that if I’m not giving something back to the fellowship I might be stealing. I didn’t like the sound of that so I put myself forward as the key person. I had to turn up early and be the last person out at the end of the meeting, this was great for me. A life time of hiding from people was turned around on the spot. Mostly I did okay, but one week I forgot to get the key and no one could get in the building.

I turned up full of fear about what people would say to me and how they would put me down.

In reality someone said “Its okay, lets have the meeting outside” We all sat in a big circle on the cliff top and the meeting carried on, it was a truly amazing experience. I knew then I would always be welcome in Cocaine Anonymous no matter what mistakes I made.

I also remember the bleak winter night that we had a power cut and people thought the meeting would be cancelled. Not in C.A. Committee members phoned each other and asked members to bring candles, and they did. We sat in candlelight and did the same as we always did; we stuck together and shared our hope.

As time went on my home group changed, my job changed and I moved home. But the love, patience and understanding I found in the fellowship of Cocaine Anonymous has always remained the same.

When I got here I liked it, and I still do. I think I’ll stick around.

A bit of story

I came to the 12 steps because years of using had hammered me to my knees and I wanted to die. I knew I could not carry on using and you guys told me I would not have to. I now know that not using is only a tiny part of the gifts this programme has given me.

A few days before the anniversary of my sixth drug free year, my baby son was taken in to hospital. He had lost 10% of his body weight and was really very ill. One of the nurses held his little arm as the other was trying to find a vain so they could get some fluids in to him. While this was going on he just looked at me with that ‘help me Daddy’ gaze, unable to move.

At that point I realized I was in the middle of yet another spiritual experience. I was able to look my son in the eye and say “don’t worry, it will be ok”. In slightly less then a week he was ok and is now home and well. My point is this; six years ago I could have done nothing else but run and hide. The fear that dominated my life would not have let me do anything else.

The power I have found in the 12 steps has truly changed every area of my life. Today that power is with me everywhere I go, it has leaked in to all areas of my life. I came here because I could not stand life any more; I stay here because I love life so much more.

Wednesday, 26 May 2010

Just enough songs for one night

It's been a stressful few days so tonight I've sat down with my laptop and YouTube just listening, not planning what to listen to, just listening. I don't get the chance to do this very often, but when I do the results are almost always the same. I chill out and end up taking myself on a well deserved emotional roller-coaster. Some people might tell you that emotional roller-coasters should be avoided, personal I don't buy in to that one. I truly believe my emotions are mine to be felt and what better way to do it then slipping away with some music? I'm finishing off with this one because I like it, nothing more, nothing less.


Just songs 3

Once in a great while a song comes along and the first time you hear it, you know, you know it will stay with you forever. This is one of those for me. One man, one guitar. I love the simplicity and even after many years, I still love the song.

Just songs 2

This was the first single I remember having that was my own music and not that of my parents. Even now it provokes memories of a carefree innocence I never quite understood at the time and possibly never will. I'd bounce around my bedroom like some kind of deranged mental asylum escapee. It way truly an amazing feeling.        

Just songs 1

I must have been about seven or eight when my Mum and Dad split up. It's happened to a million people before and surely it will continue. My Dad was always a great Elvis fan and this tune seemed to haunt our flat for a long time after my Mum went. I still remember being woken up in the middle of the night with a parent on each arm screaming "he's coming with me". I stayed for a few more years and so did this song.

Songs, just songs

I've always loved music and as I sit here tonight I find myself turning to tunes that have, In the past played a part in the days and years of my life. This one for instance I listened to a lot around the time my Mum died. I would go off in my lunch break from work and simply walk listening to this absolutely flat out. I never really worked out what the connection was, I just knew it made me cry and for me at the time that's just what I needed. It's a great tune. 

Jims story.

Our first example is a friend we shall call Jim. This man has a charming wife and family. He inherited a lucrative automobile agency. He had a commendable World War record. He is a good salesman. Everybody likes him. He is an intelligent man, normal so far as we can see, except for a nervous disposition. He did no drinking until he was thirty-five. In a few years he became so violent when intoxicated that he had to be committed. On leaving the asylum he came into contact with us.

We told him what we knew of alcoholism and the answer we had found. He made a beginning. His family was re-assembled, and he began to work as a salesman for the business he had lost through drinking. All went well for a time, but he failed to enlarge his spiritual life. To his consternation, he found himself drunk half a dozen times in rapid succession. On each of these occasions we worked with him, reviewing carefully what had happened. He agreed he was a real alcoholic and in a serious condition. He knew he faced another trip to the asylum if he kept on. Moreover, he would lose his family for whom he had a deep affection.

Yet he got drunk again. we asked him to tell us exactly how it happened. This is his story: "I came to work on Tuesday morning. I remember I felt irritated that I had to be a salesman for a concern I once owned. I had a few words with the brass, but nothing serious. Then I decided to drive to the country and see one of my prospects for a car. On the way I felt hungry so I stopped at a roadside place where they have a bar. I had no intention of drinking. I just thought I would get a sandwich. I also had the notion that I might find a customer for a car at this place, which was familiar for I had been going to it for years. I had eaten there many times during the months I was sober. I sat down at a table and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk. Still no thought of drinking. I ordered another sandwich and decided to have another glass of milk. "Suddenly the thought crossed my mind that if I were to put an ounce of whiskey in my milk it couldn't hurt me on a full stomach. I ordered a whiskey and poured it into the milk. I vaguely sensed I was not being any to smart, but felt reassured as I was taking the whiskey on a full stomach. The experiment went so well that I ordered another whiskey and poured it into more milk. That didn't seem to bother me so I tried another."

Thus started one more journey to the asylum for Jim. Here was the threat of commitment, the loss of family and position, to say nothing of that intense mental and physical suffering which drinking always caused him. He had much knowledge about himself as an alcoholic. Yet all reasons for not drinking were 36 easily pushed aside in favor of the foolish idea that he could take whiskey if only he mixed it with milk!

Whatever the precise definition of the word may be, we call this plain insanity. How can such a lack of proportion, of the ability to think straight, be called anything else?

Jims story comes from the AA Big Book and for me hits the nail right on the old head.

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Tuesday, 25 May 2010

Hi Ya!

It's been a bit of an odd one today, been asking myself questions about where I want to be in the next few years work wise. The truth of it is, after much thought and consideration, I still don't have a clue. I am however thinking how funky scooby doo was back in the day. Funky but not a patch on the great Hong Kong Phooey, he was quicker then the human eye don't ya know. I would almost go as far to say that He's got style, a groovy style, and a car that just won't stop. When the going gets tough, he's really rough, with a Hong Kong Phooey chop (Hi-Ya!)

Telly seems to have changed some what over the years. Saturday mornings filled with Swap Shop and Tiswas (with the wonderful Sally James) are a thing of the past. No more Six Million Dollar Man, no more happy days and no more waiting for early morning TV to start. It's about now a chap of my age would normally go in to some sort of ramble about how great seventies TV was, well I won't. The truth of the matter is when looked back upon, it was all a bit crap. 

TV today has it going on for the kids. What I had to watch compared to my son Jack is very different. I had Bagpuss and The soup Dragon. Jack has Waybaloo and In The Night Garden. Life moves on and at times we get to see some sort of reflection on our TV sets. I guess the secret is to enjoy things as they are now, no matter what word we happen to live in.     

Properly armed

But the ex-problem drinker who has found this solution, who is properly armed with facts about himself, can generally win the entire confidence of another alcoholic in a few hours. Until such an understanding is reached, little or nothing can be accomplished.

Above is taken from the AA Big Book. For years I would read this and miss the point. I thought it was all about being properly armed with the facts about you, I failed to notice the obvious. Once I could see the truth about myself, I had a chance. One of the best bits of advice I have ever been given about the Big Book, read the black bits.

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Monday, 24 May 2010

Pink people are funny.

Pink people are funny. I live by the sea so I get to see lots of them and it never fails to amaze me. A flash of sun and tops are cast aside like lifeboats in a titanic builders shipyard. The good folk (and visitors) of Bournemouth then set about positioning themselves as close to the unshaded sun as possible. More often then not, a cunning plan will be hatched involving turning and oiling at regular intervals. This is when most people fall asleep and the toasting begins. The result of a two hour snooze under these conditions will always put a smile on my face, it can only be improved on when the dopey bastards have sunglasses on. The pink panda look is a wonder to behold.

Part of me thinks I should be saying its bad to have too much sun, but its so dam funny when people do. Its like the innocent pedestrian who bounces off an unseen lamppost or the pompous jogger plummeting down a unprotected open manhole. I wish no real harm to anyone, but if you are dumb enough to do it I need to thank you. The joy you have brought to my life is much appreciated so please keep it up.       


Saturday, 22 May 2010

I remember when my primary purpose in Life was to become a member of the Dennis the Menace fan club. Two badges, one of them hairy and an ID card in a finely folded plastic holder. The vision, the dream. I think I finally made it four or five years after it stopped being cool, but make it I did. Lots of things have been like that for me. Not quite getting to the cool stuff when it's still cool, but hey, what ever. I still to this day remain a member of the Dennis the menace fan club and that's good enough for me.

My kind of sign

Common sense

On this most wonderful of sunny Saturdays I've just spent the last three hours sat in a youth club with a few other folks discussing the 12 concepts, and loved it. Is that a bit odd, a bit strangely strange? Actually don't answer that one, I have a good idea what your thinking, I always do. I like this sort of thing in my life, but I've dropped a bit of a hairy spud this weekend.

Me and Mrs D have a deal. It's quite simple. Neither of us commit to any fellowship stuff on a Saturday if we can help it. If it comes up we at least check it out with each other. Fool proof eh? So in my usual considerate way I went to the Mrs and got the nod for taking my mate to a meeting tonight. Again I say fool proof. What I failed to remember, consider of even think about was a workshop I'd put myself up for during the day. At this point any label marked fool proof should be discarded.

It seems to me that the label fool proof is used far to much in this day and age, closely followed by the phrase common sense. You see, even at the ripe old age of 42, my common sense ain't all that common. So where do I gauge this so called common sense? I blogged last march about the great philosopher Homer J Simpson and the wonders of his mind. My best thinking has concluded that I could take life direction from worse people. 

Thursday, 20 May 2010

And now these three remain

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self‑seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

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Wednesday, 19 May 2010

A simple pimple.

Two days ago I awoke to find what appeared to be a small pimple right on the tip of my fairly rounded nose. A pimple, no more, no less. I've had em before so I confidently predicted it would be gone within the day. My confidence turned out to be woefully misplaced. The following day this "pimple" seemed to have undergone some changes. It had grown up, it was no longer a simple pimple, it had graduated into a fully fledged spot. A spot right on the tip of my nose.

As you can probably imagine, this disturbed me more then a tad. I worked out (all on my own) that a full on attack was the only way to rid myself of this unwanted nose guest. Positioning myself in front of the bathroom mirror I set about the beast with vigour, determined to bring its short life to an explosive end. As tears streamed down my cheeks I held fast, took a deep breath, and pushed on. This seemed to vex the nose spot more then a little, in fact by the look of the thing, It was well and truly fucked off and clearly hell bent on revenge.

I left the house with a throbbing nose and a striking resemblance to one of Santa's reindeer. Driving to work (slightly cross eyed) I resided myself to the fact that this was a battle I could not win. With that in mind I decided to forget about the carbuncle and it's new home, I would just carry on with my day. If only it were that simple eh?

I work with people and a consequence of that is I have to, from time to time, talk to them. Today I had to talk to lots of people. It's a strange feeling when the person your talking to flat-out refuses to look you in the eye. I'm told the Lady's out there who are a little on the chesty side know about this. As the day went on I found myself starting every conversation with "have you seen this on my nose?" I would then slowly revert to crossing my eyes as the power of this mighty bastard drew the attention of each and every living creature blessed with the gift of sight.

It's been a long day. I still have beast pitched up right on the tip of my well rounded nose. It might be a long day tomorrow as well.                    

Tuesday, 18 May 2010

The old gratitude thing

After a days work, I got home tonight to a roast dinner with the Mrs and my little lad Jack. After eating we all went for a walk in the woods next to our house where the little man spent an hour running around before going home on my shoulders. Both me and Jack then jumped in the bath and played boats and bubbles for a while. I then wrapped him up in a big white fluffy towel and gave him his bedtime bottle. At eight o'clock the three of us sat in Jacks bedroom as I read his bedtime book to him, then a kiss goodnight and his Mum put him to bed.

What a truly mind blowing life I have. I really have got the old gratitude thing going on right now. Not every day feels as great as tonight has, and why should it. I think the important thing is I stay awake enough to notice the great days when the do come along. I like being awake.   

Monday, 17 May 2010

Just because I like this photo.

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Our book is meant to be suggestive only. We realize we know only a little. God will constantly disclose more to you and to us. Ask Him in your morning meditation what you can do each day for the man who is still sick. The answers will come, if your own house is in order. But obviously you cannot transmit something you haven't got. See to it that your relationship with Him is right, and great events will come to pass for you and countless others. This is the Great Fact for us.

Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of your past. Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny. May God bless you and keep you until then.

Anyone fancy a good old trudge?

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Templates, dam templates.

So I have just spent the last two hours changing the templates on my blog again, again and again. I think I've taken myself to the edge of sanity and beyond. The result of all these hours is the layout you see here. If anyone out there thinks it's rubbish, for fucks sake, keep it to your self. If however you like it, let me know, my ego can take it.

It strikes me as yet another example of my ability to complicate the fuck out of everything I touch. Its not that I set out wanting to, I just do. Anyho, it is what it is and that's all that it is.    

which cannot fail.

"There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance - that principle is contempt prior to investigation.

I'm a real lover if the above quote.

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Sunday, 16 May 2010

So, people read this then?

I was chatting to a friend yesterday who said he was keeping up with my blog. He went on to say his Mrs reads it and finds it quite amusing. I've got to say, every time someone says anything like that I feel a little surprised. Deep down I still have that bit of doubt in myself I guess.

The other thing I usual feel is fear. You see as long as I simply blog and think no further then that, I'm OK. The moment I start thinking about who reads it, I'm in trouble. It's in my nature to look for a quiet life and within that I have no desire to upset people. In fact what I really want is for people to like me. Problem is, in the real world that ain't never gona happen. Not with everyone.

So, what's the answer? I guess it's as simple as keeping on with what I keep on with. For-sure it's great to hear people read this blog from time to time, even that it can provoke a smile once in a while. But, it is what it is. Rule 62 springs to mind, don't take yourself to dam seriously.
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Wednesday, 12 May 2010

No Maico 490

Just been spending a bit of time trudging through some on-line stuff and stumbled across a my space account I set up in 2006. I remember doing it thinking I'll give this on-line stuff a go and see if I can get on with it. Believe it or not, It was only around this time I set up an email account. Skip forward to 2010 and I can honestly say without Twitter, facebook, Blogs etc, etc, I'd be most perturbed. Not to mention laptop, desktop, iphone, wifi, the list goes on and on. It looks like I've turned into a bit of a geek and I've got to say, I like it.

I guess I've always been a fan of cool stuff and lets have it right, a lot of the tec out there is cool to the extreme. Obviously, if it's got an apple on it, it's a bit cooler. Few could argue with that, could they? But what about all the other stuff? Believe me when I say the world of cool tec related on-line stuff just keeps growing and growing.

But what about the days before the multi core processor, the laptops carved from a slab of aluminium with a light drizzling of unicorns blood? What did we have before? The old folk would have us believe all that was needed to impress was a small stick, possibly with a screwed up bit of newspaper to fashion a ball of sorts. This, in my experience, is bollocks.

For me the first real bit of tec that got my attention wasn't what you would really call tec at all. In fact it was a moto cross bike. In 1981 the Maico 490 stepped into my word. Louder that thunder with a engine scream that would put brown moist spots in the pants of even the hardest of hard men. It was a bastard of a bike to start, a pig to ride and a fucker to keep down. But Jesus was it fun.

We don't hear much about the Maico 490 any more. Maybe that's because most of the people who loved it, were killed by it. Or perhaps the way it vibrated at full pelt shuffling your internal organs like a deck of cards in hands of Paul (Debbie McGee!!!) Daniels had it's affect. I don't know, what I do know is my days of mounting such beasts are well and truly over. And I've got to say Im OK with that. So now I sit surrounded with tec in my happy little world. No Maico 490 and no moist brown pants.                 


Tuesday, 11 May 2010

Tuesday Jim.

"Suddenly the thought crossed my mind that if I were to put an ounce of whiskey in my milk it couldn't hurt me on a full stomach. I ordered a whiskey and poured it into the milk. I vaguely sensed I was not being any to smart, but felt reassured as I was taking the whiskey on a full stomach. The experiment went so well that I ordered another whiskey and poured it into more milk. That didn't seem to bother me so I tried another."

I've always been a fan of Jims story. He was so very simply fucked long before he walked into the diner that day. It shows me that although what I do today is important, I still need to concider tomorrow because chances are, it will turn up.

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Frothy emotional appeal

Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices. The message which can interest and hold these alcoholic people must have depth and weight. In nearly all cases, their ideals must be grounded in a power greater than themselves, if they are to re-create their lives.

I love the fact that seldom is used in the passage above and not never. Sometimes, just sometimes frothy emotional appeal will suffice. It may not last for very long, but it's a start and a start is all some of us need.

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Sunday, 9 May 2010


I've said it once, and so help me I'll say it again Jack Bauer is one cool dude. In the word of fantasy and make believe a hero is so very, very important. I guess we all have then, heroes that is. But who are they? Who are the real ones? I know one thing for sure is that they change over time. Mine used to be people like Steve Austin (The Six Million Dollar Man) then as time went on they changed. I could go on to write a long long list of TV and move stars, musicians and like.

But what about the real people? The world of make believe is of-course a wonderful thing but we can only live in it for so long. It seems to me that searching for people in this world to look up to is not the important thing. Maybe the important thing thing is to try and be someone others can look to. I'm not talking about being perfect, nor a hero to one and all. Just doing the best we can, just trying, that's all. My heart was truly touched a few days ago when me and Mrs D were talking about our little boy Jack. "He's a real Daddy's boy she said, your his hero" That's amazing, I hope I can live up to it.      

Saturday, 8 May 2010

I don't want to sound morbid

Been finding myself thinking about death quite a bit today, not in a particularly morbid way, just thinking about it. Obviously at the ripe old age of forty two I've experienced the loss of loved ones and friends alike. My Mum died quite a few years ago shortly followed by my Grandad and then my Nan. Years of drug abuse and even my years in recovery have put me in a position to see friends and people I've know pass away. What I've been thinking about is the way I behave, the way I cope when the inevitable happens.

At the moment a dear friend of mine is going through some really heavy stuff with his partner. It feels like I'm close enough to re connect with some of the feelings I've had in the past when I've lost loved ones. For-sure it's uncomfortable, to be honest the thought of death frightens me. I don't want to die and I don't want people I know to either. But I will, and so will they.

Like I said, I don't want to sound morbid. My blogs, like me, are mostly of the cheery type. I'm starting to think that although often very sad, death is not the end of the world. Unless of-course its you that's died. What it is however, is a certainty. It will happen, sooner or latter it will.

So where has my day of thoughts about death left me? I know when I'm feeling sad about someone whose gone, its all about me. How could it be anything else?  But ya know what? that's OK. It makes no difference, the point is I'm sad and it hurts. The real damage to me comes when I fail to acknowledge Im hurting, when I think its not OK to cry when I need to. The less I've tried to bottle everything up, the less I've needed to. Its about as simple as that.          

clio car

So at long last a replacment for the Micra has been found. My workcar is now a Clio. It's of a similar ilk to the ledgend that was the Williams Clio, similar in so much as they both have wheels and a Renult badge.

The mrs tells me that she now finds me sexy again, on acount of me no longer being a Micra driver. My belief is she's one of the closet Micra folk who could never admit the power and majesty of such a might motor car, but always wished they had one.

Either way, the Micra is gone and the Clio is now here. Long live the Clio and rest in peace the little red Micra.

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Wednesday, 5 May 2010

A foot

Something is a foot! I've always thought that was an odd statement, yet It's one of many I enjoy using. I like the cut of your jib is another. That's all, nothing more intellectually challenging then that really.

Are these extravagant promises?

If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them. (Alcoholics Anonymous, pp. 83-84)

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As you understand.

Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of your past. Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny. May God bless you and keep you until then.

As many of you know, the above is take from the Big Book. For those who don't, it is. My point is this...... For the love of God, don't get hooked up on the God thing. Let's all try and remember the importance of "God as you understand God" Within that we can all find freedom.

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Tuesday, 4 May 2010

The search continues

So my search for the replacement of my dearly departed Micra continues. I've got to say the people i'm meeting along the way are both entertaining and annoying at the same time. I seems people with a car to sell are like that. Today's "seller" was no exception. Nor might I add was the 1999 Metro he had polished to within an inch of it's life.

She's a great little runner he told me, going on to point out just how shiny the British racing green body work was. Bless his little lying heart when I started to ask him about head gaskets and over heating problems. He simply told me that didn't happen on this model. After I gave him a short description of the K series rover engine, the reasons behind it's need for a new head gasket all to often and the fact that this was exactly what lay before us, he yet again refereed to the shiny paint work.

OK I said, lets go for a little run and see how it goes. I was keen to at least get the fan to cut in and have some water pumping around the thing. Alas, this was not to be. Dispute today's chosen "seller" booting the little 1100 down the road. The heater remained cold and the fan wouldn't cut in. In a last ditch attempt to make the sale, he drove me back to his car Lot.

As we got out the "sellers" partner in crime mooched towards us keen to point out what amazing paint work the little metro had. By this time I was just about done. I highlighted the years I spent valeting cars going on to say that the old line about no being able to polish shit, was in fact a load of bollocks. I also pointed out that who ever did this one had missed a bit and the wheel arch had polish left on it. Then I left the shiny little car for the next person. If it's you, take my advice, and remember, shit really can be polished.           

Monday, 3 May 2010

My nearly week off

Well, that's it, my nearly week off work has come to an end. I've got to admit I thought by now I would be all to happy about going back to work. A nearly week can be a mighty long time in my house. However, I happy to report this is not the case. In fact I'm nowhere near as keen to get back to the old grind stone as I thought I would be.

Turns out I actually get on quite well with my wife most of the time, and the time I've been able to spend with Jack has been most excellent. We did almost nothing I planned, and that worked out to be a good thing. Simply we spent time as a family, even leaving the car stereo off from time to time. The result? a fairly stress free nearly week.

So will I go back to work rejuvenated tomorrow, full of beans and ready to take the day by it's love spuds and give em a good shake? I think I might, I really think I might.

Saturday, 1 May 2010

The replacement

So, as the result of my recently deceased Micra the search for a replacement has been on. A simple task I'm sure you must agree. The insurance company paid out within a couple of  weeks so all I needed to do was pick up a new motor, happy days.

Bollocks is it. Seems the world of second hand cars is a tad on the iffy side to say the least. Obviously once a car is put up for sale something deep down inside the seller clicks into lying, conning rip-off bastard mode. Now I'm not totally dumb, I worked in the motor trade for a few years and I know how it is, but I'm not talking about traders.

I went and looked at a car today. The dear old gent sat in his mobility scooter telling me what a gem of a motor it was. Bless his lying soul, he even went on to tell me how I couldn't go wrong with such a solid reliable piece of machinery. 100% reliable he told me.

As I climbed into this nineteen year old Fiat panda the words solid reliable piece of machinery flashed through my mind. A flick of the key and she spluttered into action, popping and banging as the whole mat black body shock with disgust. Through the smoke I heard a faint voice shout "nice runner, eh?" He then seemed to slip into a voice loop repeatedly requesting me to push to choke in and give her some gas.

Dispute the offer to take this fine piece of Italian wizardry out on Her Majesty's highway, I shut the bastard thing down and fled whimpering I'll let you know. No worries he said, If you decide to have her, she won't let you down. Seems to me this dear old chap is a bit of a fucker, quite a bit of a fucker actually.

Needless to say, I sit here tonight car-less. But the day really hasn't been a complete loss. The point isn't, nor has it ever been about other peoples honesty. I can't do a single thing to change the way they behave. What I can do is ensure I treat each and everyone with contempt and suspicion at all times.

If only it were that simple. I have to trust people in my life, I need to be able to give folk a chance, roll the dice once in a while and get screwed over every now and again. It's a bitch I know, but this is the world we all live in and all in all, it's not that bad.