One Day

One day, I may tell all about the skeletons I've dragged for miles and miles, because I couldnt shake them off.

One day I may tell all about the haunted forest I got lost in because I couldnt find my way.

One day I may yell from the rooftops about all the mountains I have climbed.

One day I may whisper about the dark paths I have walked to get this far.

One day I will tell all about the darkness I have lived with, but only while laid on my back looking at the stars.

The one thing that keeps me going? the complete and utter blind faith that one day I will love and be loved again.

Gaz West 11th August 2018

The off and on again switch

Okay I'm back! first time writing anything this year, I'm not sure that I still can, we shall see. So whats been happening? Well going to the gym has taken up some of my time, although I'm getting bored with it and oddly enough not finding the time! and here I was at the end of last year bored! 

The gym hmmmm well what can I say? the place is full of cockwombles! absolutely crammed with them! narcissistic arseholes all looking in the mirrors, congratulating themselves on how good they look! yea right, go waggle those huge but tiny egos at somebody that gives a shit! so why am I doing it? mainly for my own personal reasons. I'm now easily middle aged, so for the last half of my life I have abused my body, you know the sort of thing, drinking, smoking, fatty foods, drugs etc etc anything that wasn't good for me went in, now its all changed, for whatever reason living a healthy or best I can healthy life style seems quite important. Not that I give too much of a shit but another 45 years mooching around doing stuff would be good!

What else? I'm finally nicotine free, yep 30 odd years dedicated to nicotine, worshipping that particular god was good, but now its over, I had my last ciggy 2 years ago but transferred the habit into vaping, 8 weeks ago a chest infection caught up with me, so no vaping for a week. At the end of that week I just thought fuck it and sold all my kit, I didn't think it would be a big deal, but it has been the cravings over the last 6 weeks have been massive, not for ciggies or nicotine but for the vape! that surprised me, surprised me a lot. Over it now though, cigs and vape, smell equally bad!

How about a good sex story? Well I haven't got one ha ha or should I make one up? I dunno we shall see. 

What else? not much really, oh yea I did give my ex wife a good yelling at! felt bloody good too, reduced her to tiny bits, should have done it bloody years ago! silly cow should not talk about me, hell I know I can talk about myself on here and you can all read it if you like, but none of you are probably going to talk about me, so why should she? the silly fucker didn't even have the intelligence to know when she was beaten. Tiny tiny pea brain, how does she survive?

The fiction chapter is still swirling around in my brain, that may come to frutition soon, or it might just keep on swirling for a while, there is definitely a further bigger picture forming.

My car! oh dear poor Christine, shes getting on a bit, bless her, another mot this month and yep she needs a bit of surgery, new glow plugs, nice oil change and she should be good for another year, fingers crossed.

Other than that things are a bit quiet, the photography mojo is returning, I can feel it, slowly rising like a badly drunken reverse titanic, the holes are getting fixed and the rot is being pumped out, a couple of more months and things should be ship shape again, the past few weeks my phone has been taking pics and video, its not good enough though, so the cameras will come out again!

I'm struggling tonight, its been a bit of a heavy day, not at work or anything like that but heavy at home, a serious conversation has taken place, that at my end consisted of a great deal of pain and some tears being shed, silly pain really, but to me it was a serious thing, and it seems ludicrous shedding tears over the simplest thing.....just sharing this blog......yet nearly 3000 other people have perused my babbling! what was happening inside for that to happen? I'm not sure, I think before I know the answer I have to sleep on it, stupid really. 

That's it, as normal my brain is travelling a million thoughts a second but my head is empty! what is that all about? an on or off switch would be real nice! 

 BORED

I'm bored, bored stupid, simple as that, bored. I'm not sure why perhaps its the time of year, or perhaps its just life, I don't know for sure. Nothing exciting is happening to speak of, nothing interesting to write about, I don't particularly want to carry on with that fiction chapter. Perhaps next year for that. So whats wrong with me then? why am I bored?

It's not like I have nothing better to do, there's plenty going on out in the world, us humans call it Christmas, over the last few years Xmas has thrown me into a funk of depression, that doesn't seem to be happening this year, perhaps its an acceptance thing? accepting that spending Xmas alone is actually quite pleasant or just blatantly ignoring the time of year, both are fairly easy to do this year.

The need to write has been pretty vague recently, not such a burning desire as it has been but as always when I do start the familiar need to keep bashing away at the keyboard takes over and I almost instantly relax both my body and my mind. Trouble is that's when the drivel starts, like tonight I've no clear picture of what to write about its just happening, my fingers bash the keys on the old lap top while the brain is switched off, like somebody else just splurging all this crap out, why does it happen? Its a mystery to me.

So whats been happening? not out in the big wide world but in my own little universe? well not a lot, I'm starting to brew my own vape, that kept my mind occupied for all of about ten days, now I have two batches of Raspy Nipples sat in my airing cupboard maturing away, they might be ready in mid January, it's like producing wine! the longer they are left the better they should be, why everyone doesn't produce their own I don't know, it is a fairly simple process.

Facebook and all the other social media stuff I find are pretty tedious this time of year, all the merry Xmas blah blah blah rubbish just gets on my tits, not in an annoying way more of an irritation, bit like an insect bite, ignore it and it will go away, same with the Xmas programmes on TV, stupidly irritating but everyone knows how to make those go away, or at least a sane person does. 

Cheggers Plays Pop!! Saturday Swap Shop! two of the best programmes on TV back when we only had a black and white TV its kind of sad to realise that one of those presenters has just passed away, another childhood face gone forever, funny but I don't associate cheggers from those days with the 60 year old that's just died, life is strange. It took me nearly a decade to figure out how Posh Paws got his name, not too bright sometimes. I wonder where that stuffed purple animal is now?

Walking and exercise are getting boring, tea is still the order of the day, a coffee now and then does no harm, in fact I enjoy one now more than I ever have, hell the highlight of my day today has been a walk to MacDonald's and back for a coffee and I then wonder why I'm bored! Its pretty damn simple really, nothing interesting is happening!

So whats this year been like? well from my perspective its been pretty damn good, I've discovered that I enjoy writing, the more I write the more I enjoy it, so why don't I do a little every day? good question. One that I cant answer, perhaps I don't want it to turn into a chore or just maybe I've not got that much to waffle on about. The highlights of my year? hmmmmmm coming off the anti-depressants, going boating, discovering a few new places and getting to know a few new faces.

The lows? coming off the anti-depressants! getting sick and having someone take a piss in my bedroom! that particular incident pissed me off big style, but hey ho such is life sometimes, other than that its been a pretty quiet year, I've no complaints apart from this boredom thing, I'm happy to still be alive and kicking. 

So that's probably it for this year, I doubt anything interesting will happen between now and new year that's worthy of writing about, that's the good thing about not knowing whats in the future, whats just lurking around the corner, whatever it is, I hope it relieves this boredom hahahahaaaaaaaa

Merry Christmas and a happy new year to you all

Bored.....bored....bored

 AWAY INTO FICTION

 This chapter started as all the other chapters have started as just another story from my life, but something changed, the more I went into it, the more I wanted to branch out into something different. I'm not sure if I should be happy or shy or embarrassed about publishing this, perhaps all 3, anyway hope you all enjoy. Gaz 


Death, takes many forms, stalks in many ways, its always there constantly looking over all our shoulders. Day or night 24 hours a day 7 days a week from birth to, well death. I know not to fear death now, its nothing to worry about, its inevitable, the one thing not a single person alive and reading this can escape from, but death can be cheated, it is possible to look death straight in the face and then step back, back from oblivion, back from that darkness.

I discovered death a couple of months ago in a hospital bed, nothing too major just a gangrenous appendicitis, lying on my back trying not to scream in agony, waiting for the pain relief to kick in, the thought entered my head "Gaz your going to die". That changed things I calmed down the pain receded and I knew it to be true, untreated I was most definitely going to die, a 100% certainty.

How things can change so quickly, just two days before id been fit, healthy, happy enjoying life. Over night a pain developed in my belly, nothing major just a bout of food poisoning no big deal just drink lots of water, clean my system out, maybe take some pain killers. Might go away in a few hours or a couple of days a week at most, if only it was that simple!

The pain didn't go away, it got worse, I started having a fever, running hot and cold, this is complete gibberish, its not what I want to write about at all, its a dark time in my life that I'd like to put behind me but its changed me, not for the good either. Having my belly cut open and going through a 3 hour operation has screwed me up, screwed me over, fucked me up, however I look at things it has changed me, I fear not for the good. I'm angry now, angry about nothing, angry about everything. I don't seem to be able to do anything about it, the more i try not to be angry the more angry I get, I just don't know what to do anymore, its extremely frustrating!!

So what can I do? just go with the flow perhaps? screw myself into the ground worrying about it or just, just what? I have no fucking idea!!

So what should I write about? my feelings that I cant explain to myself? try to explain how frustrating everything is? how bad I feel about something that was out of my control? how self conscious I now feel about my belly, my whole body in general? or should I write about Vampires!

Vampires! pffft everyone and his slave are on the vampire bandwagon, perhaps a good sex story? yea right that's been done to death as well, well okay, then how about a vampirish sex story? yep, getting somewhere now but not quite there yet.

As much as I'd like too sex is a good subject to write about, perhaps write about some personal experiences but mix things up a bit, I'm tired of writing about myself, you see nothing interesting happens to me, my life is dull, dull as murky dish water. My minuscule existence in this world is only interesting to me, so why not, yes fuck it.

Or my life was dull, its not dull anymore, all of a sudden I have a purpose, a purpose that I can fill. Fill my life with words, with letters that go together to make chapters, chapters that make books, books and more books. I'm bursting now bursting with things to write about, just writing this drivel has given me a purpose again, something to strive for, something to do!

Vampires!

My mind keeps returning to them, fascinating creatures, so clever, so dark, so scary, but sexy so very very sexy. You see I'd like to be one, but how does one become a vampire? ask any vampire and they will tell you they don't exist, they are just a figment of feverish minds but are they? Is it possible that those sexy creatures of the night are so intertwined with fiction that nobody believes they exist?

I think they do exist, like fairies at the bottom of your garden, you cant see them, cant hear them but you know they are there. See, you have to believe, if you believe you will hear them, see them, feel them, I believe. I believe in life after death, in vampires, in fairies, in a world of my own making that perhaps, just perhaps I can put into words for you all to enjoy, well first of all just for me to enjoy.

Yes, that's the most important thing, to put it into words, for my own enjoyment, for my own selfish pleasure.

So here we go then, into a world of the unknown, a world that is for my own selfish needs, a world that will be brutal, beautiful, sexy, filled with blood, devoid of life, a world of the dead.

Now where were we? Oh! yea my operation. Hmmmmm yea well things didn't quite go as planned, you see there was a few complications. Complications that I had no control over, no choice in the matter at all. The exact details are fuzzy in my mind, my mind! ha, yea, a mind that remains foggy, that is not going to clear any time soon, its so frustrating.

The operating theatre's walls were a funny colour red, why would they be red? Lots of people seemingly just milling around, all dressed in funny blue uniforms, odd looking people, all wearing masks, except one, just the one strange woman, standing casually in the corner, face indistinct, but wearing a cloak of dark purple. She struck me as funny, something odd in her appearance. I couldn't quite place what was funny about her.

Its only now recalling these events that I remember her, strange as it sounds I don't remember a lot, the more I write these things down the more I remember, like a home movie being played in my mind. Next I know, a clear mask is being lowered over my face, theres cool air coming through the mask, it feels calming, I am calm. Why am I calm? I should be on the verge of panic, these people are going to cut me open, cut parts out of my body, mutilate me! I have to trust them, they should know what they are doing, dear god I hope they do!

My head starts to get heavy, theres an overwhelming feeling of getting heavier, my body doesn't feel like its mine anymore, I have no body, I'm just a pair of eyes looking out of a head that no longer belongs to me. That's a strange idea, that I'm just a pair of eyes, fascinating. Could it be, is it possible? possible that I am literally just a pair of eyes? That thought is so ridiculous! If I'm just a pair of eyes then I should be able to look around me.

Darkness takes over, a delicious sweet darkness, its neither heavy or light, its just a non descript darkness. Perhaps that's not the correct word, nothing, yes that's it theres nothing. So if theres nothing why am I looking at the woman in the corner?

I can see her now, blond hair, blue eyes, bright red lips, but shes as white as marble, I can see she is old, extremely old yet she looks to be in her early 30s. I have no idea who she is or why she's standing in the corner of the operating theatre, whats going on? I cant move, yet I know that if I wanted to I could get up and walk over to her. So why don't I? it seems a good idea, just casually move over to her.

So that's what I do, just get up and walk over to her, that cloak is amazing! a real rich deep Purple, I've never seen a more vivid colour! Hang on I'm at the very beginnings of a major operation so how can I possibly be up and walking around? That thought is gone just as quickly as it appeared, its irrelevant, not interesting, nearly boring, what is interesting is the woman standing before me, she is tall, very very tall, I'm six foot and a bit, yet I have to look up to see her face, those eyes! Deep blue and twinkling like the very brightest of stars. She smiles at me, a warm welcoming smile.

We stand looking at each other, could just be for a second or two, or minutes, maybe hours, I just don't know, it doesn't seem important. The folds of her cloak start to unravel, a slow deliberate movement, like shes not trying to startle or scare me, do I need to be scared? perhaps I should be? No I don't need to be scared, her hand appears from the cloak, shes holding a scroll. This is getting weird now! 

She holds the scroll out towards me. I look at the scroll then look up at her, theres a slight questioning look on her face, I know now what I have to do, take the scroll from this strange woman and read it. Okay that's easier said than done, the scroll looks old, very very old, its yellow with age, with my luck it will probably be written in Latin or Welsh or some such forgotten language.  With just a slight tremble to my hand I reach out my right hand, she places the scroll into my hand, all this time we have not said a word to each other. 

I look down at the scroll I can see that it is indeed very old, its tied closed with a small red ribbon in a neat little bow, with my left hand I take one of the bows ends and begin to pull, the knot springs open surprisingly easily. The scroll also springs open like its got a mind of its own, I can see a jumble of numbers and letters seemingly thrown onto the scroll in a random manner but the more I look at it the more the letters and numbers arrange themselves until finally they make a list. My eyes just scan over the list quickly not taking any of it in, theres a collum of numbers on the left, with a row of words next to each number, at the top there is some writing in bold I read....

To be reading this, you are dead

A shiver of fear races from my head down my spine through my legs and into my feet! dead! fuck! dead! fuck fuck fuck! dead! well shit isn't that just fantastic! no fuck, I cant be dead! I've just got my life sorted out things cant be ending now, life is just getting interesting! shit shit and double shit!

I look up into the face of the woman, she gazes back at me, looks me straight in the eyes and winks at me! well, hell no, this cant be happening! theres no way I'm dead! I'm dreaming! that's it, yes I'm dreaming, I will wake up any moment now, operation sorted, alive and kicking. It doesn't happen, I don't wake up! My mind explodes in a picture of clarity, if I turn around I can see what the doctors and nurses are doing to me, if I can see that I will wake up! 

I damn near pirouette around as fast as I can, the sight that greats me is just devastating, all of a sudden I know I'm not dreaming, I know that it is true that I am indeed dead. My body turns numb, all thoughts leave my mind. I'm stunned completely and utterly in shock. I'm looking at myself on the operating table, I can see a gaping wound in my belly, from my belly button down to my groin, oddly theres no blood pumping out, there should be blood! I look at my face, then I know for damn sure that this is real, I look dead, my eyes are closed my mouth and nose are blue and most obviously of all I'm not breathing!

I see a clip board resting on my legs just below that awful wound, there's a pink sheet of paper attached to it, I scan over it quickly some of the words catch my eye and I read:-

CAUSE OF DEATH

 

UNKNOWN

TIME AND DATE OF DEATH

10:27 AM     27TH JULY 2017 

London and a far away place.......

Where to start? I feel bloody awful, coming of these happy pills is killing me! I wont give up, I can't, quitting is not what I'm about. I feel like my perspective of the world is changing, not for the better either. My mother is back in hospital, god knows how long its going to go on for this time, we shall see. 

I've got a week of work, feels like its just a couple of days, it should be a bloody month! Christine came back after her MOT, passed with flying colours. What does that saying mean? passed with flying colours? its crazy. The William Tell Overture is playing on You Tube and I'm bursting! bursting to write! I want to talk about lots of things but putting it all in order is an absolute bitch! its just flowing out in any old order, the faster the music gets the faster I type!

Intercity 125! a bloody train haha my first trip to London via train, Skeggy to Grantham then a 125 into the big smoke, I remember it purely because of some strange woman and her hamster. Who would take a furry little rodent on a train? at 10 years old it seemed amazing! Imagine it, first trip into the big city, sitting opposite a woman with a cage on the table, whats in the cage? curiosity is a funny thing. 

Just fleeting images after that, the outskirts of London, those poor idiots living next to the main railway line, they must be nuts, to a small time country kid like me it just doesn't seem normal. Getting off the train, I've never seen so many people! grown ups wearing bowler hats, mixing with punks with bright purple hair, mini skirts with laddered tights, the culture shock is enormous! My tiny brain can't cope with all the new information, just bits of it get stored for later retrieval, like now, funny what triggers these memories.

I'm in London for a week with my Auntie Pat, she has two cats, Foxy and Scamp, they are buggers haha they run away from a monster like me, cant say I blame them, its play time for me, those cats had other ideas! That night it was hot, way to hot for me, I'm used to being next to the sea where its cool, not the stifling oppressive heat of the big city. What memories do I have of that week? not many, going on the Cutty Sark, a mooch around Queenie's old tower, that place with traitors gate, seeing the so called crown jewels, not too impressed with them, just stuffy old crap in cases. HMS Belfast stays with me forever, first time I'd been on a real ship and seeing Tower Bridge open to let some American cruise ship through, to tie up next to HMS Belfast. Oddly enough it was full of septic tourists, loud and gobby people, I didn't like them much.

My first trip on the tube, up to the Westend to catch a show, sat opposite some woman in a white top with no bra, to a 10 year old watching her boobs bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the train was fascinating, if I'd know then what fun boobs could be, I'd have been embarrassed, or maybe not paid so much attention to them. Funny what a brain remembers. The show, Paul Daniels, that so called magician fella, absolute pile of shite, bored silly for most of his show, lots of singing by some old bag, I swear he was on stage for about 10 minutes at most, very disappointing!

That's pretty much it, the lights of Piccadilly Circus, a trip on a tourist bus, the bloke Paul's cathedral, some old bones in a museum, 10 Downing Street closed because of IRA bombs, its just another street in a big place of many streets, the roads are not paved with gold, paved with dog shit, but that's about it, dirty horrible place but fun at the same time, definitely an eye opener.

That was my week in London many years ago with my Auntie Pat.

Pat passed on yesterday, good old New Zealander, smoked like a chimney, drank Gin like it was going out of fashion, crashed cars like the best or worst race car driver but best of all planted the seed of a dream to visit New Zealand. I've never managed to visit, as yet, that is going to change maybe not this year or next but it will happen. My bucket list has been added to, it's is to see those far away islands on the other side of the world.

RIP Auntie Pat

Gaz xxx

So whats happened in the last couple of months?

Well the simple answer is not much but in truth quite a lot, besides work commitments, which I'm not going to bore you all with. I work in a bingo hall, its bingo, simples. Leave it at that.

Hair! I have some again. Yea I know, not much of a biggy you might think, but for the last few years I have shaved the lot off every few weeks, I've finally got fed up with the convict look, so I'm going back to the real me, growing a Lemmy beard, which is driving me nuts, I recon sometime I might get used to it but I doubt it, and the stuff that grows on the top of my head? well that's just a bloody mess, spiky and flat, curly and straight all at the same time. Honestly its like a whole bunch of living live wires up there!

My mothers been in hospital, quite a worrying time, but shes home again now, and doing well, fingers crossed she recovers just fine, but I don't know for sure, that's ongoing so less said the better.

Christine, my Merc, is in for an MOT and a bit of work, fingers crossed she will be fine too, better be, i look after her fairly well, feed her, drive her, love her, hehehehe I might just treat her to a nice wax polish if she doesn't cost me too much money, no matter where life takes me or who I meet she is my constant faithful companion, bit like a dog, but less messy, we have no secrets.

Boaty MacBoaty! now that was a day out, I have a couple of friends who have their own houseboat, stupidly great big thing it is, 70 foot long ten foot wide and a bit of a handful. No big deal you might think, but the biggest boat I'd ever driven in my life was a rowing boat no more than five feet long. Anyways on this day the weather was perfect, sun shining, no wind, just a glorious sunny day, we cast off and heads off up the river (I'm not going to mention where, its my semi private get away, perhaps in time I will reveal all) ten minutes into the trip, I get to drive! oh boy was that an eye opener. For whatever reason, it felt natural, felt like I had done it before, no qualms with doing anything, turning round, reversing, doing figure eights, easy peasy. I felt at home! End of the day we had to get this boat into a gap with 2 and a half feet to spare on each end, I expected to crash several times, but no just slid in as pretty as you please, no qualms, no do overs, nothing, just quietly drove in and moored. Fantastic day, cant wait to do it again, unfortunately Boaty is broken at the minute.

Now the more serious part, as is covered in a previous chapter I'm on happy pills for depression. Have been for a couple of years now, they are easy things to take, one a day in the mornings, no big problem, the problem is getting off them. That is precisely what I'm doing, getting off them, I'm treating it just like any other addiction, cut down fairly slowly then just stop completely. Well its going to happen quicker than that, I've got about a weeks worth of smaller dosage ones, then its cold turkey. To put it frankly I'm scared, scared of what my mind will do, scared of going so far down again that there is no recovery. I have to keep thinking to myself that the state of mind is only temporary, that the chemical imbalance in my brain will equalise itself with time. I'm not going to hide the fact that the next few weeks or months is going to be a walk in the park it isn't, there's going to be lots of shit happening. The smallest thing may cause a mood swing, the slightest wrong word may cause a temper fit. 

I'm going to look on it as I do the rest of my life, one step further along the road, one more adventure to get through, maybe not the best adventure, but none the less an adventure. Damn I love adventures! Be it driving a boat, driving my car fast, a dirty woman or getting on a bike and going for a ride, life is too damn short to be anything but an adventure. 

Righty ho my fellow pirates and adventurers, that's me done for the night, see you all on the flip side very shortly, may all your dreams come true and your enemies be vanquished forever.

Gaz xxx

I keep reminding myself that everything happens for a reason, one day I may grasp what that reason is, but for now I am happy with the confusion, the tears and the struggle of it all.......

THE FINISH AND A NEW START

For now this is the final entry, I have to let go. Its no good rehashing what is in the past, I cant change any of it. God I'm no saint, I am just as responsible as my ex wife, truth be known I'm probably responsible for hurting more people in the last two years than she has ever done. Why? Now that question is deep, very very deep, in some ways I took on her personality, took on her traits, took on a persona that is just not me. I've found it very difficult to shed that part of me, but life is coming back.

One of the bigger steps was admitting to myself that she wasn't entirely to blame, I could have stood up to her, said no this is wrong, stop. I didn't, I just let her get on with it, I'm no mouse, I am a strong happy individual. I forgot that, I was so busy trying to keep her and everyone else happy I forgot about myself, I forgot to look in the mirror every day and say to myself, I love you. Those words are so easy to say to anybody, but saying them to myself just went by the wayside. You have to be able to love yourself before you can love another.

So what has happened? Well over the last 18 months or so, I have been looking for something that didn't exist, the perfect relationship, the perfect partner for me, physically out there looking for it. Of course I haven't found it, I've felt sorry for myself for such a long time, put on a front that I thought nobody could see through, I was wrong, every body and their dog could see through my front, whats the point of not being me?

I'm in danger of becoming a cynical old man, just chasing something that doesn't and never has existed, before I know it, I will be too damn old, too weary and I suspect too tired to carry on, just a lonely old man living a dead life in a dead flat just living from one day to the next.

That's not how I want to spend the rest of my life, out in that big wide world is so much to explore, sights to see, cities to explore, a whole damn world to get lost in, whats the point of writing about a past that is behind me? I'm putting it to bed once and for all, there is nothing I can do to change it, why should I let it get to me? Finally I have realised it has made me a stronger person, for good or bad I shit you not the experiences have made me who I am, so just get on with this life its the only one I have, enough is enough.

So this is it, the final chapter, about the past, from here on in, its going to be my hopes, my dreams, something exciting that has happened or just a tirade if something pisses me off, it is going to be "the rest of my life in words and pictures"

I look forward to sharing it all with you....

Gaz xxx 

So where do I start? right now I'm laid in bed listening to Tina Turner, "We don't need another hero".  Sleep is calling, for the past week or so, I've neglected myself a little, tomorrow morning, my washing will go in the washer, a shave, a shower, tidy the pad up a bit, well a lot, resist the urge to shave my hair off. Yet again that is something that's just not me, I used to have hair down to my arse, being bald is crap and part of my dead persona. Damn my world is complex, I sometimes think there is more than one me, how can I be this contradictory with myself? After that who knows? I'm definitely going out into the world, perhaps for a coffee maybe a meal. Lets see what happens. Night night, sweet dreams world.

RAF Basic Training 1991

It was simple enough, leave school, join the Royal Air Force, become a fire fighter, play Volleyball until full pension at around 40 then retire to somewhere nice and warm, I wish. Life has a habit of kicking plans in the balls and then laughing in your face, that's exactly what happened.

I joined the mob in January 1991 two days before the first gulf war broke out, I was not prepared for it in the slightest, my sights were set on the fire fighting, not the six weeks of bullshit that is recruit training, sat in the recruiting office at RAF Swinderby two questions were asked "War is going to break out in the Gulf very shortly, how do you feel about going out to fight?" I thought to myself, no problem, bring it on! my reply was somewhat more muted "If I get sent out, I get sent, theres not a lot I can do about it". The next question arrived, "How do you feel about picking body parts up out of a field after a plane crash?" Fuck I don't want to do that! "if its got to be done, its got to be done."

That was that, it was next into a room to take an oath to the Queen, oath said, I had officially taken the Queens shilling. Things moved very quickly after that, up until taking the oath, everyone had been calling me sir, now it was airman! how quickly the mighty had fallen. I originally wanted to be in the RAF Regiment, that part of the air force that's Army but without being a target, unfortunately either my eye sight was too poor or my IQ to high for the apes, so that was a no no, next best thing was being a fireman, still part of The Apes but with Volley Ball and Ice Cream and best of all no living in fields (for fields, read garden, next to the pool at the hotel) for months on end.

The next two weeks just passed in a blur, hair cut, marching, uniform, marching, eat, marching, iron, marching, classroom, marching, pt, marching, marching, marching, marching, sometimes a bit of sleep was thrown in. I should have taken that opportunity to quit smoking, 20 fags lasted nearly two weeks! I will give the instructors all credit with what they did, they took an 18 year old numpty like me and turned said numpty into a proud, happy small cog in a big machine. I learnt how to iron, sew, run, fire a rifle, drink, square bash and how to have a real good time unwinding!

Half way through the course, I failed an exam and had to go back a week, that was fine by me, next time round I put a little more effort in, I didn't see eye to eye with the drill instructor, in fact he was a complete arse! but to this day I have a huge amount of respect for that man, he thought and said very vocally that I was cruising through the course. The fact that I was, is neither here or there, I found the entire six weeks rather easy, it was all about team work, that's a lesson I've never forgot.

Getting to fire a real life good for nothing shit firing cannon on a firing range was the dogs dangly bits! back in those days it was the SLR (Self Loading Rifle), the damn thing was huge! stood up the barrel seemed to be level with my chest, to say it was powerful is an understatement, fire it at a wall two miles away and the bullet would pass through the bricks. Well that's what we were told, I have my doubts. Hitting the wall in the first place would be an issue, anyways we turned up at the firing range, were given one mag  with 20 rounds of live ammo. Best fun I've had with my clothes on, the adrenalin got flowing good style, stood facing the target with this cannon resting on the shoulder, slowly pull the trigger, hold your breath and squeeze a little more.....boom! the barrel lifts up, the used shell gets kicked out the barrel comes back down and....boom! it goes off again. Single shot its like firing a pea shooter, on auto though, damn, fuck! boom!boom!boom! I enjoyed firing those rounds to the max.

Another distraction was learning how to survive in a chemical environment. Issued a gas mask and a special suit, we got taught how to use the equipment over a couple of weeks between marching and PT! really basic stuff but it was a good experience. After learning how to use the gear we had to put it to the test, we got trucked out to a hut on the airfield, put the suit and gas mask on and went into this hut, it was full of tear gas! We went through all the drills no problem at all. Well one problem, the sadistic instructor! The bastard would not let anyone out of the hut without them sampling the tear gas, I watched the unlucky ones going first, they would take the mask off, breath in, and that was it, the gas got em! coughing crying, poor buggers, this was not going to be good. It got round to my turn, I knew what to expect, but nope didn't happen, I took the mask off, started breathing the gas in, nothing happened, well not quite true, my nose started to run a little bit. The instructor thought I was holding my breath, he wouldn't let me out! I have no idea why the gas didn't have any effect on me, the instructor finally gave up, and screamed to get out the hut! 

The big test was next, Military Field Training or MFT, three days out in the sticks, putting everything we had learnt into practise, basically a bit of shooting, a small romp with pack and rifle, sleeping in a tent, inside an old aircraft hangar, proper rough and ready stuff, but not to demanding or difficult, the hardest part I found was cleaning the rifle properly afterwards.

That was it, basic training over and done with, just the passing out parade to deal with. Get dressed up in the number one uniform, blues head to toe, march into a hangar, line up so some brass could walk past looking important, the sky pilots did their thing for what seemed an eternity, just spouting off about some god or other, march out the hangar again, after just 6 weeks, a half paid up member of the Royal Air Force.

On that same day it was off to Newark railway station with a travel warrant and a one way ticket to RAF Manston for trade training.

Making RAF uniform look scruffy. 1991

Depression and Suicide Part 3

I could not stop crying, every five minutes, the bottom had fallen out of my world, I had built myself up again only to crash right back down, I felt bad, I didn't wash, didn't eat, couldn't sleep, had been right to the brink of suicide, seen that particular demon and stepped back, now I just lay on my kitchen floor sobbing, sobbing and sobbing, real floods of tears, my face was wet with them my t-shirt too.

That voice in my head spoke up again, "What are you going to do now Gaz?" I didn't know. Between bouts of sobbing I phoned Fay, I told her what I'd just nearly done, it was so nice to hear a friendly voice. Calm, very soothing. I read Fay the list from start to finish, I explained the reasons for each one, then I asked her a question, "Fay, do you believe me, that I've been in an abusive marriage?" There was a few seconds silence "Yes". I broke down again, the relief of it, somebody finally believed me!

I said thank you to her, put the phone down and sobbed again, that damn sobbing went on all through the day, it didn't come out all in one go, it was dribs and drabs, each sobbing bout was just as bad as the previous one. I made my mind up there and then I needed help, but how to go about it? I didn't have a clue. What popped into my mind was Angel.

Dragging myself up of the floor, subconsciously I made that first step back to recovery, for the first time in what seemed like ages I went for a wash, cleaned my teeth and got dressed, still the sobbing would not go away. I didn't feel any shame for the sobbing, they're was absolutely nothing I could do about it, I'd held it in for so long, I'm not talking a matter of days or weeks, I'm talking years and years.

I grabbed my diary, put some shoes on and headed off to Angel's. The conversation with Angel is a blank in my mind, I remember turning up at her house and sobbing. I'm sat here having a coffee, desperately trying to remember that conversation, its just not happening! Angel advised me to go to the doctors, yea right get in at the doctors! that takes ages, she had a trick up her sleeve though, she wrote me a letter to give to the doctor. I still have that letter, I don't read it anymore, neither am I going to share it with you, its not that I don't want to, its more that I have no need to dig it out and refresh my memory of what it says.

I didn't phone the doctor, I went directly to the doctors, by this time I'm fairly sure it was mid afternoon, time had no meaning. Heading to the receptionist I didn't say a word, just handed her the note, she read it, handed it me back, got on the phone and told me to take a seat. I don't know how long I sat there, it could have been minute's or hours, every now and again I would sob. I didn't say a word to anybody, didn't take any notice of my surrounding's, the place could have been full or empty, I have no idea.


The receptionist fetched me to see the doctor, I don't know if they were calling for me before that, not a clue, I know its unusual for the receptionist to escort patients to the doctors office, I went through the door, sat down, before the doctor could say anything, I was sobbing again. I handed her the note, she read it. Then she started talking, I don't remember the exact words of what she said, some of it I do though.

I read her that list, she said "Why do you need that list?" I couldn't answer her, why did I need that list? Simple answer I didn't, that list was just screwing me into the ground, it had become malignant, instead of helping it had become a thing of evil, an instrument of Kathy, a way for her to still get at me. I thought about it for a minute or two, ripped it out of my diary and tore the pages into tiny pieces. Some two years later, I don't remember all that was in that list, I don't want or need to remember, it was and remains a completely unnecessary evil that took me to the brink of oblivion. Don't get me wrong when I first wrote that list it felt necessary to do so, it felt the correct thing to do, its like this blog, writing it now is the thing I need to do, in a few years, who knows?

We talked about a few other things, not that I remember what they were, the mists of time have obscured the rest of it from me, I remember sobbing a couple of times. She finally diagnosed me with depression, no surprise that one! We talked about getting some counselling, I agreed it could be a good idea, I must admit that the thought didn't fill me with enthusiasm, I mean you've got to be crazy for counselling right? (That will be covered in another chapter)


She also prescribed me some anti-depressants, explaining to me that when I start taking them they will take me even further down than what I already was, great, that would be an enormous help. She did repeat herself over and over that it was completely normal to go further down after starting the course and to just keep with it, don't act on the thoughts that were bound to follow. Easier said than done but I managed it.

That was pretty much it, after I left her surgery I felt better, I'd reached out, got help, it wasn't anything to be ashamed about, the sobbing dried up gradually over the next couple of hours, for the first time in a while, a good nights sleep was in order, which is what happened, my final thoughts that night, I scribbled into my diary "This is the first day, of the rest of my life"

Those words have turned out to be true, ever since that day life has treated me well, sure there has been days of sheer hell, ups and down's but that is life, I know that I will never be that low again, I just will not let it happen to myself, I will not let myself experience anything like what Kathy did, again, it has not been an easy path to this point in time. It has been a long road to travel, with many twists and turns, many ups and downs. It is a journey that I am now enjoying to the full, I intend to enjoy my journey, no matter what life throws at me, be it good, bad or indifferent, I will not rest until I reach my destination.

Depression and Suicide Part 2

Writing in the diary helped, it didn't help much, at the time it seemed a good idea. Looking at the diary now its gibberish, the writings of a desperate man close to the edge. The edge of what? I ask myself now, simple answer, I have no idea.

One of my biggest problems is thinking too much, its not a good thing, the simple stuff yea sure anyone can do that, like how far does space really go and how long is it before the world comes to a stop, simple shit like that is easy to answer, its the difficult stuff that gets me, like how can a good relationship turn sour right after getting married or how is it possible to be in an abusive relationship without knowing it?

I'm still not really sure of the answers, don't think I ever will. Some people say that getting married doesn't change anything, yea ok, well it does , it changes a lot of things, it changes how you look at each other, it changes how much effort goes into the relationship, those two rings and a bit of paper have a lot to be responsible for.

Referring back to my diary.

Page after page, right at the top it says "Do Not Contact Her" that was very difficult to do, I didn't recognise the downward spiral I was in, I tried not to dump on my friends to much, I mean who wants to hear some bloke droning on about how shit life is day after day? So no, I didn't and couldn't do that every day, I sat in my kitchen window contemplating where and how life had got so fucked up. The more I sat and thought about things the more bad thoughts entered my head the more I didn't sleep properly, stopped eating, stopped washing, stopped giving a fuck, my attitude started to swing more and more to putting an end to things.

Facebook? That was both a good and bad thing, I vented on facebook a lot, I didn't give a fuck what anybody thought about that, I still don't, I got lots of encouragement messages, quite a few man up ones as well, well fuck you then, those ones obviously didn't understand, so I started kicking them out my life. I have no regrets about that, I got rid of all her family members, got rid of anybody that had a slight connection with her however tenuous, that is the ones that didn't mean anything to me.

I suppose boredom was a factor, far to much time to think, no job at that time, nothing to really occupy my mind, I had a few books, no radio, no television, no internet, it was quiet, so very very quiet. Describing this downward spiral is harder than I thought it would be. What crossed my mind more than anything was, why? What had I done that was so wrong? Why did I fall for her in the first place? Why did she manipulate me so much? What gave her the right to tell me what I could and couldn't do? Why did it feel like my fault? and down the spiral I went, day after day, night after night.

I must have stank to high heaven, nothing was getting me out of the funk, no words of encouragement, made any difference, the things that people said I didn't believe anyway, and I knew that nobody believed me, why would they? after all men don't suffer abusive relationships from women do they? or that's what I thought, so everything must have been down to me, so it must be my fault, something must be wrong with me, I just cant see what it is. Further and further down, down lower than I have ever been in my life. 

I got desperate. Desperate for someone to believe me, desperate for someone to just say "its ok". My tired brain started to work overtime, started to make things up, started to make connections that didn't exist, I started to distrust everyone. I made a list, a list of all the things she had done over the years, I did it in the front of my diary, one thing after another, over three pages, it started at the beginning, with her pouring molten wax over my junk, even though I didn't want her to, it finished with the day she lied to the police about me.

I read that list over and over, I read it so many times that I would dream about it. The more I read it the further down I went, that damn list took over my life, the more I read it the further down I went, the further down I went the more I read it, a vicious never ending circle of misery that I created, so it went on day after day.

Gin helped, it helped about as much as a lead weight, half a bottle a day, sometimes the whole bottle, then Brandy at night, in hot chocolate, just to make oblivion a little easier, it didn't make anything easier, I just thought it did. The only easy thing was reading that list! and smoking, smoking was easy.

Sat in my kitchen window one morning, by this time I had stopped getting dressed and going out, I was reading that list again, a small voice in my mind spoke up, I don't know what prompted it or where it came from, I remember it well "Enough, finish it" what the fuck does that mean? "Go, out the window, theres nothing left, finish it"

That was it, my way out of this hell, away from all this shit, away from that list, away from the horrors of the last 12 years or so, suicide, oblivion, a release from this living hell. Things became very calm at that point, putting the diary down, I grabbed my phone, why did I grab my phone? I have no idea! I opened my kitchen window, climbed up onto the window sill and started to climb through.

It was simple enough, climb through the window and dive head first into the concrete below, crack the skull open, obliterate the stupid brain matter, job done, no more worries or cares forever. Just that welcoming darkness that is death. 

It wasn't my time, I was not on the reapers list to die that day, I wasn't scared or anything, very calm in fact, its just a big voice shouted in my brain "STOP! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, SHE'S NOT WORTH DYING OVER!" I climbed back inside, collapsed onto my kitchen floor and cried. Sobbed is the proper word for it, sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, I couldn't stop, for the rest of that day I would sob every five minutes or so, I couldn't control it, I didn't want to control it, every time I sobbed I felt a little bit better. It felt strange, It felt almost alien, I guess things had been bottling up for a long while.

I had hit rock bottom, no two ways about it, I had got as low as I was going. From here on in the only way was up.

Coming soon

Depression and Suicide Part 3

My Kitchen