One problem with me is that I am always in my own world. I often get lost in my head with very deep thoughts and fantasies which often mean I ignore things happening in the real world.
One day at about the age of fourteen I was walking home from school. It wasn't very far from the school gates when I was crossing the road. I was in my own world, but I am fairly sure there were no cars coming. So I crossed the road, when suddenly I was pushed quite hard to the ground. I laid there for a second or two, unsure what had happened. I then stood up and realised I'd been hit by a car. Luckily I had a big padded coat on which must have cushined the hit and the fall.
The bloke started shouting at me, and so did his partner. But then they asked if I was ok, and I said I was and carried on walking home. It was quite an odd experience and it didn't hurt too much.
It wasn't until the next day that I noticed as well as felt a huge black bruise down my leg and back side.
I decided not to mention it to my mum until the weekend. I said to her 'I was hit by a car the other day' and she replied 'don't be so silly, you shouldn't make up things like that'. I then insisted I had been and had to show her the bruise for her to believe me.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Spike nearly drowns
I could say that I have had a few near death experiences in life, but to be honest I don't think any of them have been that dangerous or close to death. I suppose one of the worst not very near death experiences was when I was around the age of six years old, which has stayed in my memory vivdly.
We were on holiday in Majorca at the time and by the pool area of the hotel. My parents had recently made friends with another couple, and they trusted the couple (who also had children) to keep an eye on Claire and myself whilst they went to get some towels from the hotel room.
The son of the couple who was quite a few years older than Claire and myself (definitely in his teens) was by the pool and letting us push him into the swimming pool simply by poking him with our fingers. He'd then pretend to fall in, then get back out and we'd do the same thing again. As I was only six, I found this hugely fun and amusing.
I'm not entirely sure what happened then, but a teenage Spanish boy got into an argument with the one we'd been messing around with. There was a bit of shouting and shoving, and then suddenly the Spanish boy grabbed me and threw me into the pool (this was an adult pool). I couldn't swim, and all I know is that I was at the bottom of the swimming pool, there were bubbles coming out of my mouth and everything was blue.
What surprises me, even to this day is that no one came in to get me, not the family looking after me, not even a lifeguard. Maybe I wasn't in the water all that long, but it seemed like a very long time.
Whilst under there though I somehow managed to make my way to the ladder by the side of the pool and climb out.
This was the moment my parents were back with the towels and they were quite shocked by what had happened. I was then coughing my lungs up with chlorine filled water, while my parents were drying me off and trying to help get the water out of me.
It probably doesn't sound too bad for most people reading this, but at the time it was an awful experience. I know my parents felt guilty afterwards and since that day they never entrusted us in peoples care unless they knew them very well.
Still, the sights, smells, and even the sounds of being in the pool are as fresh in my memory now as the day it happened.
We were on holiday in Majorca at the time and by the pool area of the hotel. My parents had recently made friends with another couple, and they trusted the couple (who also had children) to keep an eye on Claire and myself whilst they went to get some towels from the hotel room.
The son of the couple who was quite a few years older than Claire and myself (definitely in his teens) was by the pool and letting us push him into the swimming pool simply by poking him with our fingers. He'd then pretend to fall in, then get back out and we'd do the same thing again. As I was only six, I found this hugely fun and amusing.
I'm not entirely sure what happened then, but a teenage Spanish boy got into an argument with the one we'd been messing around with. There was a bit of shouting and shoving, and then suddenly the Spanish boy grabbed me and threw me into the pool (this was an adult pool). I couldn't swim, and all I know is that I was at the bottom of the swimming pool, there were bubbles coming out of my mouth and everything was blue.
What surprises me, even to this day is that no one came in to get me, not the family looking after me, not even a lifeguard. Maybe I wasn't in the water all that long, but it seemed like a very long time.
Whilst under there though I somehow managed to make my way to the ladder by the side of the pool and climb out.
This was the moment my parents were back with the towels and they were quite shocked by what had happened. I was then coughing my lungs up with chlorine filled water, while my parents were drying me off and trying to help get the water out of me.
It probably doesn't sound too bad for most people reading this, but at the time it was an awful experience. I know my parents felt guilty afterwards and since that day they never entrusted us in peoples care unless they knew them very well.
Still, the sights, smells, and even the sounds of being in the pool are as fresh in my memory now as the day it happened.
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Spike the shoplifter
During my early teens there was not a great deal to do in my social life. A saturday afternoon would normally consist of going into the town centre with a couple of mates and looking round the shops. There then came a time when Big Dave started shoplifting and encouraged me to do the same. I started off by putting my hand into the pick n mix in Woolworths, which seemed to work great. I was never caught and got free sweets. This made me feel confident enough to go to the next level.
It was around easter time, and BHS were selling eastereggs. As soon as you entered the shop they had a table with several eastereggs on display. I stood there looking around, and saw no sign of any security guards, so I picked up an egg and started to walk towards the doors. Then I heard a voice from behind me 'What do you think you're doing?', coming from an older aged woman around the age of 60. I stood there frozen looking at her, to which she then said 'It's a good job there is no security around, in fact I'm going to get some'. I ran with the egg back to the display table, placed it back down and I ran out of the shop. I did not stop running until I was clear of the town centre and in a nearby park. Big Dave found it hysterically funny, but I did not. Since that day I have never attempted to shoplift anything else and never intend to again, just incase there is a 60 year old woman behind me who is likely to report me to a security guard.
It was around easter time, and BHS were selling eastereggs. As soon as you entered the shop they had a table with several eastereggs on display. I stood there looking around, and saw no sign of any security guards, so I picked up an egg and started to walk towards the doors. Then I heard a voice from behind me 'What do you think you're doing?', coming from an older aged woman around the age of 60. I stood there frozen looking at her, to which she then said 'It's a good job there is no security around, in fact I'm going to get some'. I ran with the egg back to the display table, placed it back down and I ran out of the shop. I did not stop running until I was clear of the town centre and in a nearby park. Big Dave found it hysterically funny, but I did not. Since that day I have never attempted to shoplift anything else and never intend to again, just incase there is a 60 year old woman behind me who is likely to report me to a security guard.
Friday, 4 February 2011
Spike crashes his car
As soon as I turned seventeen, I started driving lessons. I have to admit that it did take me a couple of tests before I passed. Theory wise I passed with 100%, but the actual tests I was a bit rubbish at. I was actually failed on one test for driving too slowly down a country lane, which I did feel was a little unfair.
I eventually passed, which was great news as I could now drive my friends around whilst listening to some of my cool music.
A little while before passing I'd bought a D reg Fiesta which was only a few hundred pounds. It only had a tape deck in it, but that was ok as I made up some mix tapes for it, including one with driving songs such as 'Driving in my car', 'Road to nowhere' and many other driving themed songs.
The day after I passed I decided to drive around collecting my mates, which consisted of Big Dave, Chimpy and Steve, and we decided to drive down the town.
As it was a Saturday the town was very busy so I decided to park in a tiny carpark near the library. As I was driving around looking for a space I came to a corner, and as I turned there was a car on the wrong side of the road coming towards me. I am fairly sure the lyrics being played at that time were "Last week it went round the clock, I also had a little knock. I dented somebodies fender, he learnt not to park on a bender. Ha ha ha". I was only going at 10mph, but I slammed on the breaks, although not quick enough. I ended up going into him and making one hell of a dent in his car and mine.
I sat there not knowing what to do, and I saw the guy getting out of the car not looking happy. Thank god I had Big Dave with me, as he got out and the guy soon backed down. We swapped details and then I drove my car straight home.
Obviously my parents were somewhat annoyed, but they helped sort everything out. The car itself was written off, although I did drive it a couple of times afterwards. After the crash though I could never quite get back into the swing of driving and have not really driven since. Maybe I will do again some day but I'll definitely need refresher lessons.
I eventually passed, which was great news as I could now drive my friends around whilst listening to some of my cool music.
A little while before passing I'd bought a D reg Fiesta which was only a few hundred pounds. It only had a tape deck in it, but that was ok as I made up some mix tapes for it, including one with driving songs such as 'Driving in my car', 'Road to nowhere' and many other driving themed songs.
The day after I passed I decided to drive around collecting my mates, which consisted of Big Dave, Chimpy and Steve, and we decided to drive down the town.
As it was a Saturday the town was very busy so I decided to park in a tiny carpark near the library. As I was driving around looking for a space I came to a corner, and as I turned there was a car on the wrong side of the road coming towards me. I am fairly sure the lyrics being played at that time were "Last week it went round the clock, I also had a little knock. I dented somebodies fender, he learnt not to park on a bender. Ha ha ha". I was only going at 10mph, but I slammed on the breaks, although not quick enough. I ended up going into him and making one hell of a dent in his car and mine.
I sat there not knowing what to do, and I saw the guy getting out of the car not looking happy. Thank god I had Big Dave with me, as he got out and the guy soon backed down. We swapped details and then I drove my car straight home.
Obviously my parents were somewhat annoyed, but they helped sort everything out. The car itself was written off, although I did drive it a couple of times afterwards. After the crash though I could never quite get back into the swing of driving and have not really driven since. Maybe I will do again some day but I'll definitely need refresher lessons.
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
Spike kills his goldfish
This happened a good few years ago when I was still in sixth form, about the age of sixteen or seventeen. Every September the fair comes to Stevenage and takes over the whole High Street with rides and games and other sorts of typical things you find at fairs. Back then they were still allowed to give away goldfish as prizes, and I won one. This was before we could legally drink, but a few of us were drunk and were walking around Stevenage doing silly things that night whilst I had my goldfish still in its little plastic bag. Surprisingly it survived, so I bought it a tank.
As the years went by I had to buy it a bigger tank as it started to get a lot bigger. It also has to be noted that this fish was no ordinary gold fish. I was convinced it was the reincarnation of something evil. It would often jump out of the water of his tank like a dolphin and splash back into the tank which would cause water to go everywhere. It's most intelligent trick though was using the little pebbles at the bottom of the tank. It'd put them in its mouth and tap on the glass as I slept, often waking me up. I am partly convinced that it was trying to communicate through morse code. So as you can see, this was no ordinary gold fish, and there is no way it only had a five second memory.
So after ten years the fish was still alive and I was getting damn annoyed by the morse code messages and splashing, so I decided to move it into the spare room. Unfortunately as I didn't see the fish each morning to feed it, I forgot to feed it. I think it was quite possibly a week before I suddenly remembered. When I got to the tank in the spare room, I was quite shocked by what I saw.
The fish was lying on the bottom of the tank, curled up, I was fairly sure it was dead. I got a pencil and tried to nudge it, and it moved a tiny bit. I'm not sure if it was good that it was half alive. I tried putting in food and tried to get it to eat some, but it wouldn't. After five minutes, and realising it must have been in a lot of pain and discomfort, I did the only thing I could. I fished it out and put it into the toilet.
Before I flushed it, I saw its eyes staring up at me, for the first time in its life looking sweet and innocent. I flushed the toilet and never saw the fish again. The thing is, after this, every time I needed to take a piss, it felt like I was pissing on its grave.
As the years went by I had to buy it a bigger tank as it started to get a lot bigger. It also has to be noted that this fish was no ordinary gold fish. I was convinced it was the reincarnation of something evil. It would often jump out of the water of his tank like a dolphin and splash back into the tank which would cause water to go everywhere. It's most intelligent trick though was using the little pebbles at the bottom of the tank. It'd put them in its mouth and tap on the glass as I slept, often waking me up. I am partly convinced that it was trying to communicate through morse code. So as you can see, this was no ordinary gold fish, and there is no way it only had a five second memory.
So after ten years the fish was still alive and I was getting damn annoyed by the morse code messages and splashing, so I decided to move it into the spare room. Unfortunately as I didn't see the fish each morning to feed it, I forgot to feed it. I think it was quite possibly a week before I suddenly remembered. When I got to the tank in the spare room, I was quite shocked by what I saw.
The fish was lying on the bottom of the tank, curled up, I was fairly sure it was dead. I got a pencil and tried to nudge it, and it moved a tiny bit. I'm not sure if it was good that it was half alive. I tried putting in food and tried to get it to eat some, but it wouldn't. After five minutes, and realising it must have been in a lot of pain and discomfort, I did the only thing I could. I fished it out and put it into the toilet.
Before I flushed it, I saw its eyes staring up at me, for the first time in its life looking sweet and innocent. I flushed the toilet and never saw the fish again. The thing is, after this, every time I needed to take a piss, it felt like I was pissing on its grave.
Sunday, 30 January 2011
Spikes fear of dogs
One of my fears are dogs. I'm not sure why I am scared of dogs, but I imagine it's because I never really grew up with them. They growl, have sharp teeth and run very fast, so when you think about it, they can be bloody scary right?
I have been chased by dogs many times in my short life, and here I shall mention the two times which have really stuck in my mind.
I imagine I must have been about fifteen, I know I was still at school. It was my parents anniversary so I decided I'd bake them a cake. The cake actually turned out to be a disaster. It didn't turn out like sponge, but more like two halfs of a giant biscuit. I also ran out of icing so it simply said on it 'Happy Mum and Dad'.
In order to make this cake I needed some eggs, so I walked to the corner shop to buy some. Once I had the eggs I began the two minute walk home, however on the way I saw a group of young girls who can't have been more than ten. With them was a dog which must have been very young. It was some sort of small terrier, but this thing was smaller than a cat.
As always when passing dogs, I try not to look at them and ignore them. I figure that by doing this they'll be less tempted to attack me. However this dog was having none of that. It started to run straight for me, so I did what I always do when a dog runs towards me. I ran away! Holding the eggs and not wanting to drop them I ran down the street as a tiny little puppy chased me probably just wanting to play with me. The group of girls were in hysterics, I could hear them laughing as I ran for my life. One of which was trying to stop her dog chasing me probably not wanting to lose the dog.
I made it back home and closed the door behind me with the eggs safe and unbroken. I think that is the most embarassing time that a dog has chased me.
As the years went by I began to get slightly braver around dogs. I was growing older and knew that it was a bit fo a silly fear.
When I was in my early twenties, I often got some extra money around christmas time posting leaflets and spare binbags, my Mum would also do it so we'd go out together delivering them. It was damn hard work as there were thousands of houses I'd have to post to, and the weather was always freezing at that time of year.
There were many times dogs would start chewing the bags which I posted through the letter boxes, which did scare me a little, but overall I was ok with it as there was a door between me and the dog.
Then one Sunday afternoon i got to a house I'll never forget. I started to walk up the path when suddenly the front door opened and out came a big black dog. I froze thinking 'shit, don't panic'. But then the dog started to growl and look at me menacingly. To my left was a six foot fence, so I did the only thing I could think of. I threw the bag full of leaflets and bin bags into the air and let out a scream.
There are not many times I have screamed in fear in my life. Thinking about it, this is the only time i can ever remember doing so. I was actually very proud though as it was a very manly scream. I remember being very impressed in my head, although still in fear for my life.
As I screamed I ran, the dog ran after me, and I jumped over the fence. This was like a proper Spider-man style jump, I managed to clear the six foot fence although cutting my hands and legs as I brushed over it.
I then had to walk back round from where I was to find my Mum. She saw me coming towards her asking what the heck had happened as she saw i was bleeding.
Apparently she'd gone to find me and was confronted by an angry woman because there was leaflets over her front garden. This was the same woman who owned the dog and was going to take the dog for a walk. The thing is I don't know why she was kicking up such a fuss when she had let her dog off the lead to freely attack anyone nearby.
That was the last year that I posted leaflets for extra cash and my fear of dogs returned, which still remains with me to this day. Looking back now though I do find both stories quite amusing, the first one due to the pure stupidness of being scared by such a tiny dog, and the second one I mainly find funny due to my manly scream.
I have been chased by dogs many times in my short life, and here I shall mention the two times which have really stuck in my mind.
I imagine I must have been about fifteen, I know I was still at school. It was my parents anniversary so I decided I'd bake them a cake. The cake actually turned out to be a disaster. It didn't turn out like sponge, but more like two halfs of a giant biscuit. I also ran out of icing so it simply said on it 'Happy Mum and Dad'.
In order to make this cake I needed some eggs, so I walked to the corner shop to buy some. Once I had the eggs I began the two minute walk home, however on the way I saw a group of young girls who can't have been more than ten. With them was a dog which must have been very young. It was some sort of small terrier, but this thing was smaller than a cat.
As always when passing dogs, I try not to look at them and ignore them. I figure that by doing this they'll be less tempted to attack me. However this dog was having none of that. It started to run straight for me, so I did what I always do when a dog runs towards me. I ran away! Holding the eggs and not wanting to drop them I ran down the street as a tiny little puppy chased me probably just wanting to play with me. The group of girls were in hysterics, I could hear them laughing as I ran for my life. One of which was trying to stop her dog chasing me probably not wanting to lose the dog.
I made it back home and closed the door behind me with the eggs safe and unbroken. I think that is the most embarassing time that a dog has chased me.
As the years went by I began to get slightly braver around dogs. I was growing older and knew that it was a bit fo a silly fear.
When I was in my early twenties, I often got some extra money around christmas time posting leaflets and spare binbags, my Mum would also do it so we'd go out together delivering them. It was damn hard work as there were thousands of houses I'd have to post to, and the weather was always freezing at that time of year.
There were many times dogs would start chewing the bags which I posted through the letter boxes, which did scare me a little, but overall I was ok with it as there was a door between me and the dog.
Then one Sunday afternoon i got to a house I'll never forget. I started to walk up the path when suddenly the front door opened and out came a big black dog. I froze thinking 'shit, don't panic'. But then the dog started to growl and look at me menacingly. To my left was a six foot fence, so I did the only thing I could think of. I threw the bag full of leaflets and bin bags into the air and let out a scream.
There are not many times I have screamed in fear in my life. Thinking about it, this is the only time i can ever remember doing so. I was actually very proud though as it was a very manly scream. I remember being very impressed in my head, although still in fear for my life.
As I screamed I ran, the dog ran after me, and I jumped over the fence. This was like a proper Spider-man style jump, I managed to clear the six foot fence although cutting my hands and legs as I brushed over it.
I then had to walk back round from where I was to find my Mum. She saw me coming towards her asking what the heck had happened as she saw i was bleeding.
Apparently she'd gone to find me and was confronted by an angry woman because there was leaflets over her front garden. This was the same woman who owned the dog and was going to take the dog for a walk. The thing is I don't know why she was kicking up such a fuss when she had let her dog off the lead to freely attack anyone nearby.
That was the last year that I posted leaflets for extra cash and my fear of dogs returned, which still remains with me to this day. Looking back now though I do find both stories quite amusing, the first one due to the pure stupidness of being scared by such a tiny dog, and the second one I mainly find funny due to my manly scream.
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Spike gets a spikey hairstyle
Not long after adopting the name 'Spike' as an internet username I decided I should try to think of a cooler reason to be called 'Spike' rather than because of a Buffy character. So I figured that the best way to do this would be to spike my hair.
Claire assured me that she knew all about spiking hair and that she'd do it for me before I went out one Saturday night. Trusting my sister, I allowed her to spike it for me with a tub of hair wax. I have to admit that as I sat there whilst Claire made my hair stick up into six inch spikes, I did think she was using a bit too much wax, but she assured me that she was doing it correctly.
After about half an hour, half a tub of wax was used and the hairstyle was complete. I looked very different, and certainly would stand out that night in the pub. I was however quite happy with the spikes and knew it'd make a change to my usual boring hairstyle.
So, I went out that night, had lots of weird looks, lots of laughter from my friends at the silly hairstyle, and had lots of people starting conversations with me about it. I also had to be very careful walking past people, as I almost had a few peoples eyes out due to the spikes sticking out from every direction of my head.
Once I got in I decided to wait until the next day to wash it out and went to sleep on an old towel so as not to get wax on my pillowcase.
I woke up the next day and was quite surprised to find that the spikes had bounced back into shape and had not bent from how I slept.
After breakfast I jump into the shower to wash the wax out. After one wash it didn't seem to come out, so I washed it again. I was then panicking a little bit as after about five washes the wax was not budging one bit.
I got out of the shower and asked Claire how it is meant to come out, she told me just to use shampoo.
It was then that I decided to read the directions on the tub of wax, which said something along the lines of 'Use a small amount of wax, about the size of a pea'.
I then tried fairy liquid with no luck, and then tried lemon juice, but still no luck.
I was now getting quite stressed and wasn't sure how to get the wax out, so I called Steve, who often had wacky hairstyles, hoping he'd be able to give me some advice. His girlfriend suggested I put flour in my head to dry out the wax. Running to the kitchen I got some plain flour and put it into my head. Why on earth she thought it'd dry the wax out I do not know, as I now had dough in my hair. If I'd have stuck my head in the oven I could have made a loaf of bread.
I went back into the shower to try to wash out the dough, which did eventually wash out, but the wax still wouldn't budge, although the hotter the water was it did seem to come out a tiny bit.
I then thought of a way to remove the wax, I needed heat. So I got a hairdryer, put it on a high heat and melted it out, whilst combing my hair which removed the melted wax. Still some remained in my hair, but the majority came out, although I did burn my head somewhat.
Since that day I have never trusted Claire with my hair again.
Claire assured me that she knew all about spiking hair and that she'd do it for me before I went out one Saturday night. Trusting my sister, I allowed her to spike it for me with a tub of hair wax. I have to admit that as I sat there whilst Claire made my hair stick up into six inch spikes, I did think she was using a bit too much wax, but she assured me that she was doing it correctly.
After about half an hour, half a tub of wax was used and the hairstyle was complete. I looked very different, and certainly would stand out that night in the pub. I was however quite happy with the spikes and knew it'd make a change to my usual boring hairstyle.
So, I went out that night, had lots of weird looks, lots of laughter from my friends at the silly hairstyle, and had lots of people starting conversations with me about it. I also had to be very careful walking past people, as I almost had a few peoples eyes out due to the spikes sticking out from every direction of my head.
Once I got in I decided to wait until the next day to wash it out and went to sleep on an old towel so as not to get wax on my pillowcase.
I woke up the next day and was quite surprised to find that the spikes had bounced back into shape and had not bent from how I slept.
After breakfast I jump into the shower to wash the wax out. After one wash it didn't seem to come out, so I washed it again. I was then panicking a little bit as after about five washes the wax was not budging one bit.
I got out of the shower and asked Claire how it is meant to come out, she told me just to use shampoo.
It was then that I decided to read the directions on the tub of wax, which said something along the lines of 'Use a small amount of wax, about the size of a pea'.
I then tried fairy liquid with no luck, and then tried lemon juice, but still no luck.
I was now getting quite stressed and wasn't sure how to get the wax out, so I called Steve, who often had wacky hairstyles, hoping he'd be able to give me some advice. His girlfriend suggested I put flour in my head to dry out the wax. Running to the kitchen I got some plain flour and put it into my head. Why on earth she thought it'd dry the wax out I do not know, as I now had dough in my hair. If I'd have stuck my head in the oven I could have made a loaf of bread.
I went back into the shower to try to wash out the dough, which did eventually wash out, but the wax still wouldn't budge, although the hotter the water was it did seem to come out a tiny bit.
I then thought of a way to remove the wax, I needed heat. So I got a hairdryer, put it on a high heat and melted it out, whilst combing my hair which removed the melted wax. Still some remained in my hair, but the majority came out, although I did burn my head somewhat.
Since that day I have never trusted Claire with my hair again.
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