So, like four experienced but excited men from “Last Of The Summer Wine” we descended on the metropolis of Skeg Vegas! Our first port of call was a side street pub which was on the way to the sea front. The pub’s name was the Marine Boathouse Bar, and it was right next door to another bar whose name escapes me. It was a lovely summer evening and the pub was very busy inside, so we decided to take our drinks outside into the front beer garden. Myself, Stuart and Paul were standing enjoying the first of many, and so was Melvin. However, for some reason, Melvin had decided to plonk himself in the adjacent beer garden of the bar next door. One of the doormen who was working at the bar next door, scouring the garden for trouble makers spotted Melvin ‘trespassing’ on his territory, and swooped down on him, forcibly ejecting him from his beer garden onto the beer garden that myself, Stu and Paul were drinking in. Needless to say, we took the piss out of Melvin for causing trouble, and we’ve never let Melvin forget it, mentioning it at every opportunity.

After finishing our beer, we walked around the corner onto the sea front and called into a pub called ‘Wolfies’ and took our beer outside, sitting in the sun with a view of the beach. It was in this pub that Paul revealed his legendary status as a ladies man with a penis like a dinosaur, and proudly told us that his nickname, given to him by his many thousands of conquests, was, and I quote “Mr O”. For all those innocents out there, Mr O stands for Mr Orgasm. Very straight faced, we reacted by taking the piss in the driest manner possible, and I don’t think to this day that Paul realised that we were actually making fun of him! So, myself, Stu, Mr O and the trouble maker walked along the front of the beach into another bar and sampled one or two of their finest ciders and sat outside chatting rubbish and watching the world go by. Then Stu had a eureka moment, suggesting that we walk further on to a pub on the corner of the beach front called ironically, The Sea View. Apparently they ran a Karaoke on a Saturday night, so off we toddled, a 5 or 10 minute walk to the pub that was about to be subjected to the cats chorus. When we walked in the Karaoke was already under way, so we elected the trouble maker to go and put our names down for a sing-song. We chose the name, the Chesterfield choir, and waited for our name to be called. I think we chose an Elvis song called I Just Can’t Help Believing, and when our turn came, all four of us took a microphone from the compare and stood together, and sang the testicles off it, much to the pained expression of the guy running the Karaoke. I think we received a ripple of sympathetic applause, but I can’t say I remember! We walked out of that pub feeling like the million dollar quartet, but I think we probably got a round of applause for actually leaving because we had become a little louder with every drink consumed. As I remember, the trouble maker was becoming a little worse for wear, which was unusual because he could normally handle his beer. Perhaps he was becoming a little nervous of passing the pub with the doorman outside! We called in a few more pubs down a few side streets and back along the sea front, and with every pint, the trouble maker staggered more and more, and Mr O became a little louder, spouting off about his expertise and prowess between the sheets! Our words became more difficult to understand or even say, but we didn’t care because we were completely relaxed and having a great night. The very last pub we went to that night wasn’t actually a pub, it was a working mans club, originally called, you’ve guessed it, Skegness Working Mans Club. When we went in through the doors a woman or a man, I can’t remember which gender, greeted us by asking us if we were members. Of course we said no, but for some reason they allowed us in anyway. However, there was one condition involved, that we kept an eye on the trouble maker, because they could see that he was obviously struggling to stand up straight. So we promised that we would, but once inside, we listened to him mumble something incoherent and watched him comically stagger off in the opposite direction that we were going, so we just laughed as we ordered our last pint of the evening and then went to search for the trouble maker.

After we came out of the club, Mr O informed us that he was going back to Aunty Ruth’s, so as we watched him make his way in the correct direction, the three of us decided to walk along the beach and take a moment to watch the sea crash onto the sand. Well actually, it was myself and Stu who decided to do that, because the trouble maker merely stumbled after us without saying a word. As we stood of the edge of the sea, me and Stu decided to wax lyrical about the beauty of the sea and and the brightness of the stars in the sky. We could see a trawler out in the distance with it’s red and green lights twinkling and myself and Stu used words to describe the serenity of the scene in front of us. Then we turned to trouble maker Melvin to ask him to voice his opinion, and with great aplomb, he uttered the word “Lovely”, through lips that had a life of their own. Myself and Stu fell about laughing.  In fact, even to this day, when the opportunity arises, we occasionally ask Melvin what his opinion is on different things, but before he can answer, we say in unison, “Lovely”. Great times, great memories.

Waking up every morning gives most people a chance to change their life if they want to, regardless and despite of the mistakes they have made in the past. We can all be a better person than we were the previous day, the previous week or even the years before. The majority of us are blessed with the gift of the freedom of life, so the least we can do is try to make our life better than before. Focus on the future because nobody can change the past. We make our decisions on what we believe, based on our past experiences, but what we should be doing is building plans for the future that are bright and exciting. Life not only happens to you, it also happens for you and sometimes, against you, in intensive, gentle, passionate and passive ways. For those of us who are free, life is what we make it, so make it memorable and spectacular, live life so it remains in the memory of your family and friends and occasionally makes them smile. It’s a genuine shame that the majority of us are ruled by the fear of failure, a fear based on past experiences that train our mind to accept failure and become afraid of reaching for what we see as impossible or unattainable. Well, In my opinion we should all do ourselves a huge favour and at least try to do what we really want to do. Do you know what? If we can do that, then not one of us can call ourselves a failure. We all run the risk of failing when we do the things and get the things that we don’t truly want, so we may as well take a chance of failing by going for what we really do want in life.

As I get older I realise and recognise a number of things that I always took for granted. Non of us truly believe we’re going to grow older, we all think we’re superhuman, nothing can touch us when we’re young, untouched by life.

But let me tell you something, as I’ve grown older and maybe a little wiser, I’ve realised that the most precious and valuable thing we have is time. Not withstanding plastic surgery and so called wonder drugs that hold back the years from showing on our faces, I’ve never heard of or witnessed anybody growing younger, the passage of time dictates that we just get naturally older and hopefully wiser. Ask yourself something, just as I’m asking myself now, how many seconds, minutes, months and years do we all waste during our life? Between the time we are born to the moment we die, how many wasted moments and opportunities do we all miss because we all foolishly believe we have the time to realise who we truly are?

It’s a question we should all ask ourselves and not one of us could be honest with ourselves and answer truthfully!!!

Don’t you agree ?

It’s been a while, sorry about that. So where was I, ahhh yes, myself and Stuart leaving Melvin and Paul to watch our overnight bags whilst we walked around the town to try and find somewhere to stop for the night! We tried several bed and breakfast places, but all with ‘No Vacancies ‘ displayed in their windows. So, feeling thirsty and needing beer for thought, we walked into a pub, ordered a pint each and casually asked the barman if he knew of anywhere in town that could possibly have rooms available for the night. The guy replied that there was a B & B just a short walk away that had vacancies. After double timing the beer we walked to the place where he suggested and spotted it across the road. It was called ‘Aunty Ruth’s and we knocked on the door and waited, and waited. A large woman answered the door, she had a West Country accent and confirmed she did have vacancies. When we walked into her establishment she informed us she didn’t have any-more rooms available but we were welcome to use the living room, which could accommodate 4 people. We considered it for literally 2 seconds and said yes straight away. We then walked back to the pub where Mel and Paul waited for us to tell them the good news. They were both, how can I put it, errr, tipsy, but seemed very happy to follow our lead towards Aunty Ruth’s.

Once there, we spoke to the landlady again, who informed us that she would not allow anyone into our ‘Room, Living Room’ after 9pm and would make up our beds. We paid her, thanked her and went into the living room to relax for a couple of hours before going out for the evening. We were sat relaxing, and trying to have a snooze when the door opened and in walked this large guy, who walked around us and sat down next to me. Stuart winked at me, obviously insinuating that I’d ‘Pulled’, and I tried not to tell Stuart to piss off! Anyway, it turned out that this large stranger was, well, a little mentally challenged, and he had chosen me to explain to him how to fill out a football coupon, at least I think it was. I explained as best as I could and he walked off seemingly happy. He was a big guy so I was happy that he seemed happy, otherwise I think the 4 of us would have been in danger of eating his football coupon, if you get my meaning.

Moving on, we showered and changed, well actually myself and Stuart did, Mel and Paul were happy to stay smelly for the evening out, and on the way out we politely asked the landlady what time breakfast was, to which she replied “8 o clock ” . Then we asked her what time she finished serving breakfast, to which she replied “8 o clock”! So, I’m not a mathematician, but by my calculations, that gave us exactly zero time to order, eat and get out by 8am. We didn’t say anything to her but that became a running joke throughout the night and for weeks after. But it did become a bit irksome when Paul kept on repeating “8 o clock” all frigging evening.

In the next episode, I’ll take you through what happened during our night out, Until then………

Regarding the problems countless people the world over face every hour of every day, all we ever hear from these great and wise world leaders is words, more words, all empty. There have always been terrorists, there have always been murderers, there have always been rapists, but why!! World leaders talk and talk about putting things right, they talk about taking steps to ensure atrocities don’t happen again, but at the end of the day, even though their intentions are admirable their words are empty. 

Words and intentions don’t last long unless they amount to something, and so far their words have not amounted to anything that will stop the pain and the suffering of innocent people. Words don’t bring murdered people back, they don’t protect the innocent, they don’t allow people to walk the streets in safety, they don’t give dead children  back to their grieving parents. We’re all tired of words and talk that amount to nothing. Why can’t we all live in peace, all have an equal chance to live into old age, why can’t we? I guess you’d get some so called experts, anthropologists, psychologists etc who would say it’s human nature to kill and be killed. Survival of the fittest , how about the survival of those who need help to survive? How about the survival of those who don’t deserve to die? Maybe back during the stone age era, but surely not in today’s day and age!! I thought as a species we were meant to evolve not devolve. 

I tell you what, although we have a right to expect the words of these world leaders to make a sustained and real difference to the world we live in, we may as well wait for the rivers to flow backwards. Very little in this world gets noticeably better, but many things become markedly worse, and the sad reality is they just continue to get worse. 

God help our future generations if the present and past are anything to go by. 

What follows is entirely my view, I suppose it is slightly biased but then again, the majority of people are slightly biased anyway. Much has been said about the historical referendum that took place on June 23rd, 2017, the date when the majority of Britain people voted to leave the E.U. I remember watching it unfold on the television. I was at work at the time, and watched it sporadically during breaks on the night shift.

For days and weeks after the event, countless people I know commented on the decision to leave the E.U. Most were happy about the outcome of the vote, some were not, but it seemed as if the vast majority were.

Fast forward to March 29th, 2017, the date when Article 50 was triggered to officially say we were definitely leaving the E.U. Some of those people who had initially stood by the vote to leave had changed their opinions, and some of them decided to post their ‘Doom merchant’ opinions on social media about the disaster that awaits Great Britain after triggering Article 50.

I understand people are afraid of change, I guess it’s only natural, but change often brings about success, even when we don’t see it at the time. The problem with many people who live on this once great Island of ours is that they often dream up a problem when there isn’t one. What made this Island great was the backbone than once ran true and straight from the top all the way down to the bottom. The United Kingdom used to be the most powerful, influential and greatest nation on the planet. There was a time when we stood together, against oppressive influence outside of our Island. We stood together for what was right, despite fighting against the odds. We made decisions and passed laws for moral reasons, not reasons that would make us richer at the expense of those less fortunate. We cared and fought for those who didn’t have the strength to fight for themselves. We never backed down or bragged about what we could do, we just did it and let the results speak for us. We advanced without changing our stance, and never retreated because the circumstances didn’t suit us. We explored the world and as a result gave a voice to those who had never previously been given the opportunity to speak. We had the world’s greatest, most powerful economy, which was galvanised by the world’s hardest working people.  We led the world in technological advance and engineering, and were inspired by intelligence, whilst never making others feel inferior.

We identified ourselves with the people we voted for in elections and trusted that in those who were voted in would make the right decisions for the United Kingdom based on what was right for the majority whilst not ignoring the minority. We didn’t scare easily as a collective people because we knew we had the mental strength and physical capacity to take on the world.

In my opinion, the first step to solving any problem is to actually recognise that there is a problem. In voting out of the E.U. we recognised that problem and took appropriate action as a democracy. We are finally doing something that will make a difference to the way we live, the way we exist. In our favour, the storm is coming and it will happen before the calm of finally becoming independent. We will eventually thrive, then maybe we can take pride in calling our little Island ‘Great’ again. The courage of our convictions will lead to change, a change that will benefit everyone.

Laying still I pretended not to become infested by the guilt and sorrow that lay scattered around, like chicken feed.
One, five, twelve hours, I did not know or care, as long as it took I was prepared to act lifeless. 
The emergence of dusk forgave my escape into the dark, the sounds of tripping and squelching and crying invading a silence that became deafening. 
Eternal silence would be my only true escape from the screaming inside my head. 
I ended it in a second, and looked down on the scene from my eternity of shame. 

Re-marrying The Wedding Present

 

 

 Three electric guitars were playing in my head, a full on energetic intro; Muffled words “Brassneck, I’ve just decided I don’t trust you anymore” fight their way through a mouth full of toothpaste as I watch myself in the bathroom mirror, nodding my head to imaginary guitars. I wasn’t wise in 1989, the year “Brassneck” was released, but my musical education was just starting to develop.

Having the wisdom to realise that the music you expose yourself to during your fledgling years as a teenage self styled musical guru eventually stimulates and shapes your musical tastes for the remainder of, or at least a large part of your life.

The unmistakable sound of the synthesizer has always given me goosebumps, always made the hairs on the back of my eardrums bristle and always made my head and torso automatically move in a juddery sort of time to the music. However, what really got me going was the sound of drums bashing out a beat in the background and a chorus of guitars playing in unison in perfectly distorted tune, synchronized like the Red Arrows roaring overhead. British Indie group The Wedding Present overcame me in the late 80s with their drums and guitars, forcing the same reaction in me as the synthesizer. Goosebumps, bristling and uncontrollable head bobbing, amazing!

Indie music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was and is one of my favourite beverages. In 1989 it was strong and fairly original and I decided I loved it! It was the following year, in 1990 that I bought my Reading Festival ticket in advance for £49, where The Wedding Present were appearing on Saturday. Inspiral Carpets and Billy Bragg appeared on the same day but it was the chance to hear “Brassneck” live that drew me to Reading. It was phenomenal, the hairs in my eardrums were fighting each other in their very own mosh pit. The three simple yet brilliant cords that their bass and guitars played will resonate in my head forever.

Fast forward to October 2015, The Assembly, Leamington Spa. The Wedding Presents Bizzaro 25^th anniversary tour, I was there to re-marry a band I had never actually divorced! The people on the drums, bass and guitar had all materialised into someone different. Gone was Simon Smith (Drums), Gone was Keith Gregory (Bass), Gone was Peter Solowka (Guitar), but still there was lead vocals and guitarist David Gedge, with his unmistakable way of talking and singing at the same time. The memories! It was almost like I had never been away. Joining him was Charles Layton (Drums), Danielle Wadey (Bass), and Marcus Kain (Guitar). They sounded almost exactly the same, yet fresher, strangely younger and unbelievably better. The seventh song they played reintroduced itself to the hairs in my eardrums, they bristled again, they smiled at each other and jostled for the best position, straining to hear every word, very cord. I looked around me in slow motion, watching hundreds of people my age and younger, smiling and singing the words to ‘Brassneck’ quietly to each other and to themselves, bristling and jostling for pole position. I swear David Gedge looked over at me and questioned me with his eyes “Where have you been?” It was good to be back, to become re-married to the band who in my opinion really gave birth to British Indie sound. The Wedding Present.

A number of years ago, I embarked on a journey with 3 friends to the coast for a one night break, which was actually just an excuse to get drunk and laugh, temporarily leaving the big bad world behind. The day of departure, which happened to be on Saturday, started at around 7am, I was the designated driver, which was unavoidable because I was actually the only one who could drive, so we set of with the sun our own personal surveillance camera. Whilst I had abstained from taking in alcohol the night before, for obvious reasons, my 3 companions had not and this being the case we had travelled a mere 20 miles when I had to stop the car so they could poison an innocent field with used beer! I swear I heard that poor field groaning in disgust as we drove off into the sunset. We had only driven for another 10 minutes when we stopped at a roadside cafe for tea and bacon butties. Again we set off and again we stopped so they could expel stale beer. After what seemed like a 300 mile road trip  we were about 10 miles from our destination when the car stopped! After some time I managed to get it going but it cut out again about a mile after we had passed the “Welcome to Skegness” sign. It started again but stopped at a set of lights which happened to be outside a large welcoming pub, so we pushed it into their carpark and went into the pub, but only after phoning a breakdown service, who informed us they would be with us in about an hour! Waiting for them to arrive was torture because I didn’t or couldn’t drink alcohol on the premise that I would be driving again soon, but my 3 companions could drink and relax, and quaff they did while I drank coke! Anyway, the breakdown service arrived after about one and a half hours, only to discover that they couldn’t start the car! So, after checking with the landlady of the pub that we could leave the car in their carpark, we arranged for them to come back on Sunday afternoon to tow us back home. That unfortunate incident actually worked in my favour because it meant I could fill my boots with beer with the knowledge that I didn’t have to drive home the following day. My 3 friends, Stuart, Melvin and Paul were on their 4th pint when I was able to sample my first cold one, and after enjoying the freedom to drink, we moseyed the short distance into the centre of the seaside town and found another pub, where we hatched our plan to find somewhere to stay for the night. It was decided that myself and Stu would take a walk to find somewhere to stay whilst Mel and Paul stayed in the pub keeping a keen, drunken eye on our overnight bags. The next post will explain the comedy of errors that happened during our overnight stay!

As I mentioned in the last post, the second week in Marmaris was even better than the first. We ate out every night in different restaurants, sampling the delightful food on offer, especially the freshly made bread for starters, which rose up before us like the millennium dome and was a light as a feather, coming with delicious dips. However, nearly every lunch time we parked our backsides on the beach directly in front of a beach bar/diner called ‘Salt and Pepper ‘. The two local guys who ran it really couldn’t do enough for the tourists, who lapped up their seemingly undivided attention with a very relaxed enthusiasm. From a personal point of view it was almost like winning the lottery to have a couple of pleasant guys bringing me ice cold beer to  wherever I was stretched out under the baking sun. On at least one occasion I remember going to their bar late at night and sharing a beer with them when they had the chance to relax.
On one particular morning we decided to  leave the beach to its own devices and strolled down the quay side towards the fishing boats and yachts. After much deliberation about taking a boat trip a man disembarked from a rickety old boat and tried to sell his boat trip to us and to other people who were walking by his vessel. We had heard the other prices that the other ‘Salty Sea-dogs’ were charging and this old guy who was standing before us was literally charging half the price of everyone else. He looked, as weather hardened sailors tend to do, weary yet ready for anything that life could throw at him. To cut a long story short, this ‘Sea Captain ‘ whose name by the way was Lucky, charged the equivalent of £5 per person. So it cost us £30 all in, and when I say all in, I mean it. The trip took us out into the deep emerald sea, anchoring close enough to deserted, idyllic islands, giving us the option to swim ashore if we so wished, and we did wish. It was truly beautiful and to top it off, cold bottles of beer and a delicious chicken salad were included in the price. That trip will remain one of my fondest memories of all the holidays we went on when the children were young.
We went on another boat trip which was far more commercialised, aboard a large yacht called ‘ The Orca, it was great in its own way but it didn’t come close to our previous trip on the rickety little boat with ‘Lucky’. What the Orca did give us was the chance for our youngest son Matt to show off his swimming prowess. The yacht anchored off a large jagged rock in the middle of the sea and a large number of people took the opportunity to swim out to the rock, climb half way up it and dive back into the sea. It was a good quarter mile out but Matt swam to it like a dolphin, climbed up, dove back into the sea and swam back to us. I’ve never told him this but I was on edge, worried he wouldn’t be strong enough to make the distance, but make it he did and with lots more energy in his fuel tank. My other son, Nick, unbeknown to us, had a liking for tattoos, I think mainly because he was influenced by the tattoos that adorned his grandfather’s arms. Anyhow, Nick was at the legal age of 16, so one morning he went off on his own to a tattooist he had singled out and came back about an hour and a half later with a tattoo of his choice. It was good, it still is good but I’m still not entirely sure what it is! Anyhow, he went to the tattoo shop a young man and came back to us, well, still a young man, but with a tattoo, but he looked very pleased with himself, so I was pleased for him. Enough said. As for Emma and Becky, they were in their element building up the golden tan and innocently showing the local boys at every opportunity. But I’d just like to say that I kept a very close eye on all four of the children, especially the girls when we were out and about.
A couple of nights before we left for England, we went on a night out with 2 ladies who came from Liverpool, another woman who came from Glasgow and a young man who worked in and around the apartments we were stopping at. His name escapes me but he was a lovely young chap who we took a shine too. We had a great, fun filled night, ending up in a bar that had everyone dancing. In fact the guys behind the bar pulled, and I mean pulled me up onto the bar, where I danced along with them until it was time to go home. The holiday was fantastic, and I often think about how much I would have missed out on if I hadn’t survived that car crash all those years ago !