Sunday, 29 May 2011

The folk involved shine

I got to play a very small part in a charity cycle ride today that a dear friend had arranged some months ago. It was to make a few quid for a charity call Leaf  Very much in the minds of those taking part today was the fact that my friends partner passed away less then a week ago. Talk about an emotional roller-coaster...

The ride involved almost forty miles through the new forest with the majority of those taking part a little rusty on two wheels to say the least. Being a bit of a cycling pro I opted to take charge of one of the support vehicles and stayed firmly on four wheels. This gave me the chance to see the rest of the folk involved shine in a way I seldom get the chance to see people do. It truly was a privilege.

On the back of that, today has given me the chance to stop for just a few seconds and pay just a little attention to the people around me, the people I choose to call my friends. The result? the result is I find myself sat here considering my self to be one amazingly fortunate chap. If I want to see amazing things happening, I need only look to the people around me. Cool eh?  

Wednesday, 25 May 2011

Mind numbing

Mid afternoon today I got a call from Mrs D to tell me that our beloved son Jack had a fit at playgroup and they were on the way to Poole hospital. Following the ambulance gave me time to fully consider the absolute panic and mind numbing fear such things bring. Unfortunately for me mind numbing fear does not tend to numb my mind, in fact the opposite.

Recently two of the people I'm close to have lost people close to them. As a result I find myself even more sensitive and dare I say more paranoid then ever. Of course this has very little to do with the real word, but when my head runs with this shit I am no more then a passenger. 

The upshot of the whole day is Jack is now home and safely tucked up in bed. Unfortunatly a recent temp check has showed up as being a little on the low side. This obviously means a long, long night of constant checking to ensure the little chap stays warm and safe. A call only moments ago to NHS Direct has to some degree settled my mind at least slightly. So the fear will no doubt continue and the night will be long. So what? the truth is I, like most parents will do what ever is necessary to keep my child safe and that is so very simply that.

Friday, 20 May 2011

3000 Days.

providing I don't do anything monumentally stupid in the next few hours, I will have made it through three thousand days clean and sober. Three thousand fucking days!! I've got to tell you all this is a big deal for someone like me, a big deal.

Now of course I'm well aware my part in all this has been fairly minimal.  I've done some stuff and followed some (not all) guidance, but mostly I've just done the best I could honestly do. And thats been good enough.

That in it's self is enough to get my attention, but what really blows me away is the amount my life has changed as a result of being clean and sober. It's mostly good, often excellant and seldom shit. The way things are going I might even make it to 3001.

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

With his facial hair

A German man scooped the title of world's best beard on Sunday after impressing competition hosts in Norway with his facial hair featuring a moose and a Norwegian flag.

Hairdresser Elmar Weisser, 47, beat 160 hopefuls from 15 countries to take first prize in the World Beard and Moustache Championship, held this year in Trondheim.

I can't help thinking that if your going to go for any sort of worlds best, a beard and moustache must surely be the way to go. sadly its not a road I'm ever likely to travel. I had a tash for a few years in the mid eighties but to be honest, it was piss poor at best. As I must say was my hair cut. Maybe thats just the way it was in the eighties. Either way you can't take anything away from a beard and moustache champion.

Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Confident of my impending success

Last weekend the Dobbo's set off on yet another car boot sale search for a tunnel to complete Jacks ever growing train set. It's a mission that's been going on for a few weeks now and to be honest I suspect it'll go on for a few more. Two boot sales and best part of five hours latter and we emerged tunnel less, bereft of tunnel and no mistake.

However, the day was not totally fruitless. The eagle eyed Mrs D spotted one of those clip on baby loo seat things, the sort emblazoned with the legend "universal". She even checked with the seller who assured the wife it would fit any toilet seat with little if any effort. Fifty English pence latter we fled the scene seat in hand and full of hope.

Safe and secure in the fact that we had a true bargain  we made our way to that mighty man shop B&Q. Clearly the investment of a new grown up loo set to clip Jacks universal unit to would be the way to go. It took best part of an hour to choose  the right seat for I am a fussy chap when it comes to sitting down. In the end I went for a nice little wooden number and away I set, homeward bound. 

That's when the misery started.  Turns out the problem is my grasp of the English language. Apparently universal actually means "this will fit absolutely fuck all, ever!!!"
To make things worse, I'm not the kind of DIY chap that knows when to say when. The end result was an attempt to "modify" the seat so the universal thing would fit. Out came the drill and off I plunged adapting every part, sure and confident of my impending success.  Success did not come my way. Our toilet seat now has holes in the lid and no universal baby seat attachment. The whole escapade is to be filed under Bastard.

Wednesday, 11 May 2011

He's crashed, he's crashed.....

Early yesterday the email came through with photo attached to confirm Jack had taken yet another tumble and scuffed his knee, this time with real blood. Mrs D reliably informed me it was a most traumatic event and the boy was, to say the least, perturbed. In fact word on the street is he was pissed right off.

This of-course (as many things do) got me thinking. I slowly began to drift back to my childhood, a time when scuffed knees were very much the norm.

My growing up took place for the most part in the seventies and the summer of seventy-five will forever remain in my mind. Unless of course I lose my mind. Stuff happened in seventy-five. Graham Hill was killed in a plane crash, Ali beat Frazier in the thriller in Manila and the  IRA were blowing the shit out of just about everything they could.

As for me? I was growing up, learning how to live in the word and how to have fun. I was also picking up my share of scuffed knees and bumped elbows.

As an eight year old boy in the mid seventies I had my fair share of heroes.  Of course they would change from time to time  but nevertheless there was always one of two that could join me in my world of make-believe, the sort of world no self respecting eight year old should be without. In the summer of 1975 mine was Tarzan. A mighty hero at the time with his tree swinging ways and shouty call that would strike fear into the very soul of man and or best. And of course there was the Tarzan

My Mum made me a pair of the afore mentioned Tarzan shorts. She had fashioned then with all her cunning from a pair of blue Y fronts (the Y was white) and two half circles of imitation leather. A sight to behold and no mistake. I topped this off with my trusty Tarzan plastic knife and off I went running round the village with nothing else on what so ever, doing the Tarzan shouty thing and living the dream.

I had no idea of the disaster that was about to befall me as I ran past the wobbly old stranger on that sunny afternoon. I remember looking back over my shoulder and doing the Tarzan shouty thing, I remember the Cotswold stone wall and I remember bouncing.  To be honest I'm not entirely sure what was going through my mind as I slid down the path clad in stingers and sunshine, I do however remember the pain for days after.  Needless to say I ultimately survived, not only this crash, but countless others. The scuff and bumps I accumulated as a child were I suspect pretty much the same as the ones Jack will acquire. A consequence of growing up, lets hope we continue to survive it eh?

Saturday, 7 May 2011


It's not that I'm not a fan of fellowship conventions, it's more a case of I don't like them very much. The problem, to be honest has nothing to do with the whole convention thing. It's more to do with the fact that try as I might, I simply don't have a fucking clue what to say to people.

Nevertheless I will for-sure be turning up to our next local C.A convention here in sunny Bournemouth and I'll enjoy myself and talk to everyone I see even if it bloody kills me.

Why? simply because if I don't I might, just might be being a selfish little bastard and that I can guarantee is a real, real bad thing for me to be.

So my dear friends, and this is the crux of it all. If you happen to be in Bournemouth on the 4th of June, and if indeed you fancy trudging along to what might well be a fairly great convention, do me a favour, stop and have a chat. I'll be the one looking for someone to talk to. That and possibly dancing, something Mrs D told me to never again do in public.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

On the old fluffy cloud

Been thinking just how easy it is to sit up on the old fluffy cloud and sail through this life failing to notice anything that goes on around us. The thing is, clearly shit happens and you would have to be blind as the proverbial bat not to notice it, yet some how we do.

In truth I don't believe this has anything to do with not noticing, Its more a case of I don't like what I'm seeing so I'm gonna plunge my head in the sand and simply ignore the fact that shit happens and for some people the pain can be unbearable.

Despite this, once in a great while I get the chance to glimpse the world around me. To acknowledge that despite my overwhelming desire to occupy the center of the universe, I don't.  Right here right now things are happening. Some things are good and some are just plain shit.  Maybe just for a little while I'll do my best to stay awake enough to see that.

Tuesday, 3 May 2011


"So our troubles, we think, are basically of our own making. They arise out of ourselves, and the alcoholic is an extreme example of self-will run riot, though he usually doesn't think so.
Above everything, we alcoholics must be rid of this selfishness. We must, or it kills us!
Many of us had moral and philosophical convictions galore, but we could not live up to them even though we would have liked to. Neither could we reduce our self-centeredness much by wishing or trying our own power. We had to have God's help."
Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 62

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Monday, 2 May 2011

From where?

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