The living room and bathroom makeover took 10 weeks to complete, and during that time we had to live in the bedroom. I tell you what, after living in the bedroom for 10 weeks I can understand why those who live in a bedsit permanently go stir crazy and hit the pub on a regular basis. I (We) were going insane. Horrible experience!!

Anyway, 2 days before I completed everything, I was laid on my bed, relaxing before work with the help of some crap on the tv when I experienced a very strange event.

I had my windows open because it was very humid and from nowhere, a starling flew in through the window and perched itself on the bed beside me! I was startled, but the bird just looked at me. I stared back for a few seconds and stupidly asked it “What the bloody hell do you want “? Half expecting it to chirp out an answer!

I considered my options, which was actually just one option. To slowly get off the bed on the other side and try to creep up behind it. Of course I was concerned that any movement would force him/her to fly around and shit all over the bedroom!

I had no choice, so I slid across the bed, never taking my eyes off him/her/it!!! Unbelievably, the bird very calmly watched me move without moving as much as a feather. I was waiting for a frenzied flapping of wings but it never came!

I slid past the bird like a slow motion mime artist to get in behind him/her, and the birds head swivelled to keep those beady eyes on me. I wasn’t sure how to approach the capture, so I moved as fast as I could and closed my hand around its body as gently as I could. Then all bird hell broke loose. The squawking started. One of the wings broke free and flapped like a Tottenham fan in the West Ham home end. I spun around quickly and guided him towards the window and let the poor bird go. The bird flew through the window and away to freedom, but not without leaving a personal message on the windowsill.

It was a surreal experience but at the same time, an enjoyable one. Anyway, I thought I’d share it and ask, has anybody else had a similar experience?

So, when I was going through my anti social, depressive, nervous episode (Not sure what to call it) I decided to dismantle the living room until it was a shell, not through frustration or temper, but because it needed a change, and so did I !!

The old plaster came off, down to the brick and I started from scratch.

I had this idea that changing the decor of the living room would somehow change and improve my mood for the better.

The living room gutted with fresh walls plastered.

I couldn’t remove the settee!

Feature wall papered.

Now for the finished article!

I finished everything yesterday and I feel so much better. I also gutted the bathroom. New shower and toilet installed and working well.

I’m not sure if I believe in Feng Shui but I definitely feel calmer and happier.

Let me begin by explaining I’ve never been fishing. I’ve never held a fishing rod, it’s not that I don’t like fishing or have no interest, it’s just the simple fact that I’ve never had the inclination to try and fish.

That being said, McGregors is a local beauty/fishing spot, hidden by dense trees and thick, multi coloured foliage. There was a time when I would walk the 15 minute distance to the lake and just sit, breathing in every last drop of serenity. It’s such a peaceful, beautiful little place to hide from the hustle and bustle of life.

It isn’t very big, I can walk the circumference in 15 or 20 minutes easily. Every 50 yards or so, there’s a small jetty that juts out slightly over the water for the fishermen to sit and commence their silent battle with the many species of fish that populate the lake.

Over the years I’ve seen fishermen pull lots of different types of fish out of the murky water, obviously happy that the hours they have spent there had not been wasted. I’m sure some of them wouldn’t consider fishing a waste of time anyway, I guess sitting alone for a few hours peace and quiet is more important than catching fish.

I remember one time, whilst I was walking around the lake on a Sunday morning, accidentally seeing a young couple emerging from the trees and bracken rearranging their clothes, with not a fishing rod in sight, so I guess it’s not all about peace and quiet!!

In 2009, a few years after I had been forced to leave AutoWindscreens on the grounds of ill health, the factory closed its doors for the last time. A few good friends lost their jobs that day, one of them being my best friend Stu.

We had previously arranged for him to walk the short distance to McGregors, where I was waiting with a case of cold beer to help Stu ‘Celebrate’ finally leaving a job he had grown weary of.

He came strutting to the bench I was sat on and punched the air, shouting “Yesssss”. We sat there for about 3 hours, reminiscing about our good and bad times in the factory whilst making 12 cans slowly disappear. He rushed home after the beer had gone so he could shower and change before meeting some of his ‘Former’ workmates as a final farewell.

Another time when I walked around the lake was with my son and grandson. Matt, my son, pointed out the different types of fish that were dangling on various fishing lines whilst I walked behind, watching my grandsons bored expression 😂 We (All 3 of us) ran through the trees, playing ‘Tiggy’, breathlessly laughing, disturbing a couple of the fishermen who insisted on ‘Quiet’.

I haven’t been to McGregors for quite a long time, I don’t know why because it’s so close to home. Maybe I will one day.

I have decided to identify as a walking, talking comically quirky large penis. I see so many people appearing on tv identifying as the opposite gender or something not remotely human that I have decided to jump with both feet onto the bandwagon. Please don’t get me wrong, if a person wants to identify with something other than themselves then good for them. I’m all for the liberation of expression. So, as I have said, I identify as a rather large, comically quirky, walking talking penis. Or if I want to be politically correct about things, a comically quirky phallic symbol, simply because I can.

Yes, that’s right, my breakdown Is nearing completion.

I moved into a newer house with my parents and siblings when I was 4 in 1970. Our old house was a 4 storey Victorian build, with a permanently flooded cellar and an attic that was to dangerous to go into because of rotten floorboards that crumbled when the front door was slammed shut. We were relocated because the local council wanted to demolish the row of Victorians to build a bypass.

So we moved into the new house, settled in fairly quickly and lived a life that I’ve already mentioned in previous posts. The neighbors were lovely people, but eventually they either died or moved away.

When I was 15, a single man came to live next door because our previous neighbour had passed away. His name was Donald and he looked about 40ish, clean shaven, seemed extremely nervous and smoked like a chimney.

As time passed, we realised he was gay, which was something my father didn’t approve of but it didn’t matter to mum, me or my siblings. Donald was a lovely, very genuine chap. He would often pop around to my house to give mum a few cigarettes when dad had disappeared on one of his many wanderings without leaving her any money to feed us or pay bills.

There was a waist high wall separating out gardens, which I would very often sit on to read one of the old magazines my mother left laying around. I swear, as soon as I sat on the wall, Donald would appear, gliding through his back door, with a packet of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other.

I didn’t mind his company because he was very interesting and engaging. He had lived in New York for several years, working in some sort of financial institution. He had been married, but his wife had left him. He often mentioned a mugging he had been the victim of and had lost his job because the assault he had been the victim of had affected his mentality, rendering him a nervous wreck.

When he had saved enough money he flew back to England to live with his parents. Donald used words I didn’t understand, and I think it was his use of the English language that helped to make him such a fascinating character. However, what I found most fascinating was the way he smoked cigarettes. He would place it very delicacy in the centre of his mouth, suck it so hard that his cheeks would collapse into his jaw and hold that position for what seemed like an eternity. Then he would look to the heavens and exhale a cloud of smoke that would have alarmed every member of the Green Party. When he held the extreme inhaling pose, he resembled an emancipated version of Nosferatu. Donald was the first person I accepted a cigarette off. (I don’t smoke much these days but sometimes I buy a packet when I feel my stress levels rising)

Donald had a boyfriend, who would call to Donald’s house at unusual times of the day and night. We could often hear them arguing through the walls, immediately followed by a door slamming shut. I lost count of how many times I was woken at 4 in the morning by Donald’s boyfriend shouting from the roadside for Donald to let him in, which he never did.

Donald moved away after living next door for about a year. We saw his photograph in the obituary column not long after. We discovered that he had been fighting against AIDS for a number of years and had died because of it. Every now and then I still catch a glimpse of his boyfriend shuffling his feet through the town centre. He’s pretty old now so he doesn’t recognise me. I watch him pass by and briefly remember our old neighbour Donald, sucking on his cigarette as if life depended on it. Wherever he is, I hope he’s still enjoying his cigarettes.

Me and Harry my Grandson playing early in the year. Love him 🥰

This is Chocolate White, the cat that moved himself into my house about a year ago and very rarely leaves my side.

First of all, thanks to everyone who sent messages of support and encouragement during the last few weeks (Months), I really do genuinely appreciate it 😊

This is my first post for quite a while and during the time of my ongoing anxiety attack I’ve considered some of my past experiences and came to the conclusion that maybe my dad suffered from the same sort of anxiety that I’ve experienced.

As I mentioned in a couple of previous posts, he would disappear for weeks and weeks without any indication he was going. Maybe life became to much for him, he was extremely laconic so I guess I’ll never know.

If he did suffer from the anxiety that I have, am experiencing, then I don’t think I was any help to him because of the way I dared to tease him when I was in my early teens. If you have read my previous posts about my mum and how violent and volatile my dad was, then you will understand how stupid I must have been to antagonise him!

I remember the day after he had returned home from one of his many ‘Walk-abouts’. I think it was the beginning of summer because he decided in his infinite, drunken wisdom, to build a garden shed (What for? He was hardly ever fucking home) The thing was, he was no carpenter!

Anyway, he began to construct this monstrosity that even a homeless person would have thought twice about using as a temporary shelter.

Towards the end of his construction, he was having a spot of bother making his homemade door fit into its less than square frame. I was sat strategically watching from the top of the garden, staring intently as he struggled and cursed. My dad was Irish, equipped with a think Irish accent that few people understood. Taking that into consideration, I started dancing around the garden pretending to be an Irish leprechaun, singing in my best Irish voice ‘ Father, it’s shit, it’s going to fall down, it’s the house that Paddy built’. In no uncertain terms he told me to shut up and fuck off, which forced me to dance and sing and laugh all the more. He chased me twice but I was on my toes and away, only to return quickly and carry on taking the piss!

It was a very good job I was aware of the danger I was putting myself in because I just managed to dodge a lump hammer that was heading straight for my head!

I heard a cry of “Bloody hell” in the near distance and looked to see my friend watching over the fence as i ducked the hammer and ran a safe distance away!

My friend and I laughed about that incident many times, making it especially amusing because my prediction actually came true, his beloved shed collapsed during a particularly windy day during that very same summer.

I remember my dad occasionally sitting in the living room, looking at the tv but not actually watching it. He would sit there without saying a word, in a tormented world of his own. When anyone came to the house he would disappear upstairs until they had left. My mum never berated him, so maybe she knew he had problems with socialising. The strange thing was, he always questioned my mum about what they had said and wanted! I remember thinking why didn’t he stay in the room to find out for himself?

It never made sense to me, he never made sense to me, but now I sort of understand his anxiety. I guess way back then, people didn’t talk about any sort of anxiety.

I’m lucky I guess because people are more aware and more understanding about social anxiety.

I must be improving slowly but surely, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to write this post. It’s a small step in the right direction, I hope.

Good morning, I’m feeling so much better after my unexplainable bout of anxiety. I’d like to thank everyone who has sent me messages of support and comfort. I’m not normally wishy washy so I’ll keep it simple. Thank you, I appreciate you.

So, I think I know what my mental problem is! For some unknown reason I’ve developed an irrational fear of speaking to people I’m unfamiliar with. I get flustered and find it difficult to get my words out and start or be part of a conversation. Apparently it’s termed social Anxiety and I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s made me feel so nervous around people in general, so much so, that I’m avoiding contact with friends and even some family members! I’m on annual leave at the moment but I’m dreading going back to work. I feel a little bit crazy at the moment, I know I’m not crazy but I feel that way.

Thank you to everyone who has expressed concern for me and sent me kind messages and words of comfort. I really appreciate it.