So, about 40 minutes ago a took part in a nerf war with my eldest grandson Aston (Asti) I picked him up from his mums house today at 11.30 and he was super excited to see me. We have a special connection, from the moment his mum brought him to my house when he was 2 weeks old I was smitten. The first thing he did when I held him was he stopped crying and smiled. He had been crying for about 30 minutes until he arrived at my house, then he simply stopped, I cuddled him, played with him, fed him his bottle and he fell asleep in my arms. It’s strange but he’s been the same ever since that first day. We’re so naturally comfortable together. For the first 8 years of his life he lived at my house for 3 or 4 days a week , Thursday through to Sunday.

Then, my son had an argument with Asti’s mum and access was cut down to 2 days every 2 weeks. At around about the same time, my son moved in with his girlfriend, so myself and my wife hardly saw Asti. It affected him and me. We missed each other. Despite trying to see him on the weekends that my son didn’t have access , his mum didn’t always agree to it, so most of the time we’d wait until my son brought him to my house. It’s been like that for over 2 years now, and when Asti does get to stop with me and my wife, he doesn’t want to leave when it’s time to go!!

So, as I’ve said, I picked him up today and he ran to me excitedly. We went to town on the way to mine and I bought him a t-shirt he wanted, a water bottle he wanted, a McDonald’s and a bad full of sweets he likes. We meandered home whilst he told me about his girlfriend 😊 (He’s 10 and a half) and explained he was going to break up with her because he thinks she likes his best friend because he’s a faster runner than he is 😂 I do love the little chap 😊 Anyway, he kicked off his shoes and sat in my swivel chair and turned his PlayStation on. We played games for a couple of hours before my friend arrived to train him in Wing Chun.

When my friend left, his nan hid 10 nurf guns around the house and we hunted for them before breaking out into an all out war all over the house and garden.

Asti won of course, and as I write this he’s sat beside me as close as he can get whilst eating a Magnum ice cream. Love him so much. He’s staying at mine tonight and he’s choosing a movie for us to watch whilst we munch on crisps and chocolate 😊

Just a quick memory to share. I had a Collie doggie when I was a teenager and I called him Max after Maximilian Schell, the German film star. I have no idea why I chose that particular actor apart from liking the name Max. Anyway, I digress. Back to the memory. So, I would take Max on regular long walks through the woods close to where I lived. To get to the woods I had to walk through a built up area not dissimilar to the bronx meets Damascus meets Baghdad. This area was/is called Grangewood. So one particular afternoon I put a lead on Max and we happily trotted on towards our objective, the lush green woods of the ‘Gollies’ a wooded area surrounding a local golf course. We had been walking through no man’s land for no more than 2 minutes when it happened. A large Rottweiler came bounding towards us from out of a front door of one of the delightful residential properties on the estate!! It’s teeth were bared, salver hanging from its jowls, obviously intent on feasting on Max, and probably me as a desert! Now Max was by no stretch of the imagination a fighter, in fact if he had been human, he would probably have been a conscientious objector. The head of Max swivelled, he barked a feeble ‘please don’t eat me’ bark and started running. I of course had hold of his lead, so I had no choice but to run with him so I tried to keep up with him. I can honestly say I have never run as fast as that before or since. Max was panting and I was panting even harder. I looked over my shoulder as I was attempting to keep up with Max to see the owner of the Rotty swearing and cursing at the dog before planting his foot up the dogs bottom as it ran back into the house.

When we reached the edge of the field that led to the Gollies, I let Max of the leash and he went about his task of having a good time.

Poor old Max. I’ve been thinking about him today and that memory came back to me. If there’s a doggie heaven I hope he’s having a good time and steering clear of Rottweilers.

I don’t know if I have the right attitude to money or if my attitude to money has always let me down or held me back, but I’ve never really cared about how much money I have, whether it’s a little or a lot, I’ve never really put any importance on it.

I actually remember the only time I put the lure of money over doing something I really liked. It was 1980 and I was 15, and only bothered to go to school when it was P.E. day, specifically football day. The school football team was crammed full of boys who came from affluent families and had a ‘I’m better than you’ attitude. Some of the boys in the team weren’t very good, (sorry lads) but they enjoyed playing for the school and I didn’t begrudge them because I didn’t really care. At 15 years old I was already playing Sunday league football for a local pub (The pub team bent the rules (Lied) so I could play) so I believed playing for the school was a step down. I was probably wrong about that, probably a little bit arrogant on my part, but I thought playing with and against grown men was far more difficult and important than playing with and against boys my own age.

One P.E. Afternoon, we were all getting changed into our football gear in a smelly wooden cabin at the side of the school playing fields when the P.E. teacher informed everyone that our P.E. lesson would actually be a practice match for the school team against 11 boys who wanted to try and give them a game. I jumped at the chance and quickly pulled one of the blue shirts over my head and ran onto the pitch laughing and joking with my best friend at school at the time, Anthony Canning. I won’t talk you through the game but I think the idea was to give the superior players in the school team some much needed shooting practice. It didn’t turn out that way. Our ramshackle, hastily glued together team soundly thrashed the school team by 7 goals to 3. I was like a kid in a sweet shop and scored 4, Anthony got the other 3.

At the final whistle, myself and Tony made a rugby style dive for the ball and played keepy uppy between us until the P.E. teacher came up to both of us and informed us we would be playing for the school the following week. One of the boys in the school team heard what the teacher told us and he was waiting for me when we were walking through a corridor in the main building. He (Johnathon O’Malley, told me there and then that the team didn’t want me to play and offered me £5 to not turn up for the team. I snatched his hand off and didn’t even ask him why the team didn’t want me, I was just interested in taking the money off him.

I wanted to buy a record that was in the charts at the time but didn’t have the money. It was a song called Reward by Teardrop Explodes. I think it cost me about 90p. My mum didn’t have much money because of dad’s alcohol problem so I gave her £3 and spent what I had left on the record and a few chocolate bars. Heaven.

That was the only time that I can recall ever putting any value on money.

This is just a rare post to say hello and well well well, who would have thought it !!!!

Destiny Part 10: Unrequited Friendship

https://astijake.wordpress.com/2016/04/10/destiny-part-10-unrequited-friendship/
— Read on astijake.wordpress.com/2016/04/10/destiny-part-10-unrequited-friendship/

Just a quick one. I’m half way through a 3 day break from work. On Monday, the sun was out so I did what little washing I had. I filled the empty basket with wet washing and walked outside to hang it on the washing line. Boooooom. I woke up not long after to discover my foot wedges in the mop bucket and the clean washing scattered all over the lawn. Some fuckin plonker (Me) had left the mop bucket on the back doorstep directly in front of the door. It happened so quickly but I must have hit the side of my head on the concrete path because I have an unwanted lump on the side of my numbskull!!! Moral of my lesson. Watch where I’m stepping in future. Owch!!!!!

As I mentioned in the last post, there were 4 incidents during our camping holiday that will forever live in my memory. The first I have already documented. ThIs next one involved a tour around a ghost/monster/Dracula attraction that was performed and exhibited in a building that looked down over the entrance to the harbour. The tourist attraction was obviously intended to scare its willing punters. It basically involved a slow, nearly pitch black walk (Stumble) around 2 floors of the building. You know the type that forces the punters to creep around touching the walls to find their way, occasionally walking into illuminated parts where someone in costume jumps out to bring you close to a cardiac arrest but all it manages to do is make you laugh. We were stumbling slowly around around the corridors, guided by hands on walls, walking past large perspect windows dimly lit but bright enough to see all manner of horrific scenes played out by costumed actors/actresses.

All four children were sandwiched between mum and dad when the floor we were walking on gave out a metallic sound when we stepped onto it. The lightning began to flicker at almost the precise moment our footsteps made a hollow metallic echo. Every few steps we walked over grates with bars covering them. The second grate we walked over made the children jump because a pair of arms belonging to an actor came up and briefly grabbed our ankles. After the initial shock we laughed, that is we all laughed apart from my youngest daughter, who froze to the spot, held onto my leg and screamed! Her reaction surprised me a little because she (Becky) always came across as a tough little Tom boy, but she was really screaming and crying and gripped my leg like a vice! We managed to negotiate the rest of the metal floor quickly, (I was walking like a stiff legged gestapo commandant) avoiding the protruding arms as much as we could. We came to the end of the ‘Amusement’ and walked out into the fresh sea air, at which point Beck had stopped crying and protesting and ran in front with her siblings, who waited for her giggling and teasing her. That moment with my daughter stays with me, I’m not sure why, maybe it’s because it was the one and only time she clung to me for protection, I don’t know but I loved how she hid behind me and wouldn’t leave my side.

Now she’s all grown up with 3 children of her own, but I still tease her about that evening in Whitby.

Part 4 will follow soon.

It’s strange how life creeps up on you! A trivial event that seems unimportant happens, but actually, when you take the time to think about it, it’s significance forces you to understand and feel what’s important in your life.

The other week, at the end of a night out with very close friends and family, I suddenly felt uneasy, awkward and anxious, so I very quickly left the pub. My wife caught me up and asked me what was up, to which I replied I was uncomfortable and couldn’t stay around everyone, including my family . She was upset that I had “spoiled” her night and stormed off in front of me, arriving home before I did.

In her rush to follow me out of the pub, she had left something behind, so in a terrible mood, she went back into town to try and find it. (I think it was her e-cig) When she arrived back home I was asleep in bed. My wife actually woke me up to inform me that if I didn’t ‘Improve’ then we were over, finishing her drunken, crying rant with “I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore “.

I listened in a haze and eventually fell back to sleep. We spoke about it in the morning and she apologised, saying she didn’t mean it and it was just the alcohol talking!

So, I was/am confused! She knows I get anxious, and she knows I don’t know why I get anxious so how can I “Improve ” something when I have little to no control over my feelings!

When I try to talk to her about that night she shrugs it off as simply saying something you don’t mean whilst being drunk, adding I had said things in the past that I hadn’t meant but I’ve never told her I didn’t love her.

She, my wife, went on a weekend break with her best workmate recently to the coast. Normally, my wife will message me quite a lot to inform me of what she’s been doing and send me photographs of where she is. This time she messaged to let me know she’d arrived safely and once more to let me know she and her friend were about to leave for home.

I think there’s a problem but I can’t seem to put my finger on it. It feels strange, awkward and distant!

Maybe I should pull my finger out, man-up and push my anxiety to the back of my mind. I think it’s the least of my worries!

So, we drove into the small port town of Whitby about 3 in the afternoon like a disheveled band of desperados gagging for ice cream. I remember we parked the car and had a stroll around. We had our ice cream fix and then we needed to pinpoint where the campsite was. 15 minutes later after finding our Bearings we drove across a small bridge that stretched across the incoming sea and followed the road for about half a mile and turned left onto a long drive that led up to a camp office.

We paid the fee to camp for 3 days and were told we could choose any spot that we wanted. We chose a place that gave us a wonderful view of the sea about 12 feet from the cliff edge and a spectacular view of the Abbey. It was safe for the children because there was a small safety fence preventing anyone getting to close to the edge but it didn’t impede our view. Perfect spot. It took myself and Angie about 30 minutes to erect the tent whilst the kids went to explore the campsite.

If I had the ability to stop time, I would chose that moment. The tent behind me as I stood holding Angie by my side, the kids playing in the distance, the wide open sea view before us and the Abbey watching over everything as it took pride of place on top of the cliffs. Perfect.

For what remained of that 1st day, we walked along a path by the cliff edge that took us to the ruined Abbey made famous by Bram Stoker. The kids loved the idea of Dracula lurking lurking around the Abbey, pretending to be vampires as we walked down a rickety flight of stone steps into the heart of Whitby.

We explored every inch of Whitby over the 3 days we spent there, laughing and joking as we went, but 4 incidents have seared themselves into my memory. The 1st was when we booked to go on a ghost walk because the kids insisted. It started at 7pm and lasted for 1 hour, the guide taking us on a tour of all the places that ghosts had been seen over the centuries. The kids loved every minute, never straying far from our side, but for me, one comical incident made it worthwhile. About 5 or 10 minutes into the ghost tour the guide stopped outside a pub by the harbour that was famous locally for a resident grey lady. There were 2 guys in the background, sat in the harbour wall, feet dangling down over the edge, each nursing an almost full pint of beer and obviously the worst for wear.

The amusing thing was, when our guide spoke about the haunting of the pub they (The two pissed men) made ghost noises (Wooooooooohhhhhh) and made sarcastic but funny comments, which stopped our guide from talking and compelled him to reply with an equally sarcastic comment. The comedy continued for quite a while because they decided to follow the group around, making a quip every now and then. Right at the end of his guided tour, our guide turned around to his tormentors and told them to piss off, which they did, laughing as they mingled into the crowd of tourists.

The good thing was, the children enjoyed their ghost tour, nearly as much as I did !!

This has been an unusually long post for me so I’ll carry this on in the next episode.

During our (My small families) early days of struggling for money after we had tied the knot, the opportunity for a holiday was as scarce as dinosaur shit. We scrimped and saved as much as possible in order to take the kids on holiday, turning frugality into an art form.

Around about when our youngest daughter was 8 or 9 we really struggled to afford any kind of day trip, so I bit the bullet and went to the bank to ask for a loan. I personally thought that they’d turn me down for even a small loan. However, they greeted me with hungry, bloodsucking fangs and actually helped me sign up for a loan I/we couldn’t really afford. They very ‘Kindly ‘ allowed me to borrow £3000 for a car. Actually, we spent £900 on a car that was barely fit for purpose. A Peugeot estate that was about 7 years old in 1998. To be fair it looked well, was very clean, was mechanically sound and had a large boot. With the rest of the money we bought a large tent, camping essentials, booked a couple of camping pitches on the east coast and paid a couple of overdue bills.

As a family, we were happy and now, mobile. So we made our plans, booked my holiday slot at work and waited for liftoff day to arrive for a much needed 7 day camping trip.

The trip took us to Whitby for 3 days and good old Skegness for 4 days. Our journey up to Whitby was eventful. Half way there, the new addition to the family (Mr Car) decided to indulge In a spot of flat tyre syndrome on a very busy roundabout. As you can imagine I was fucking delighted! Baring in mind the spare tyre was hidden in the boot under a tightly packed tent and utilities, as well as 2 large suitcases and various (Unnecessary bags) I was faced with a task!! I managed to steer the car to a safe spot just off the roundabout and set about the task like a rabid vampire sucking on its first virginal bottom. I was a man possessed and motivated, I couldn’t have been any faster if I’d been trying out for a Formula 1 race team. We still talk about it to this day. It took me under 15 minutes to empty the boot, Jack the car, change the wheel and repack the car. The kids of course were oblivious to my predicament and merely carried on with their building excitement.

Anyway, crisis dealt with, we carried on with our journey up to Whitby and then it became funny, interesting and absolutely brilliant.