Ok, so this title is a little misleading. I am not scared of parks. Hyde Park is one of my favourite places ever, and it's a place I don't go to as much as I used to and really should start doign so again. I suppose not having presents under the bench for quite some time has been what has stopped me going as often.
Anyway, I do often have some problems when walking through a park. I walk through a park every day on my way to work, and there are many things I have to overcome, especially at this time of year.
The least of my worries is getting mugged or attacked by chavs. A few years ago in daylight as I was walking home, I saw an ambulance arrive and rush over towards a crowd. It was a guy who had been stabbed after an attempted mugging. He died and there was a big thing about it in the papers for a while. This didn't make me any more worried about walkign across the park. I have several ways to prevent getting mugged. One is a technique by Derrin Brown, in which you have to start saying 'I had a pencil case at school which was shaped like a calculator but wasn't a real calculator. I had it confiscated, even thoguh the teacher knew it wasn't a real calculator'. Apparently it works all the time! I also have some wicked self defense moves, as well as cards I can throw at them and flash paper I can set off to temporarily blind them.
So, my next worry is a little more odd. Football. I hate football, and I can't play it. Yet at this time of the year, the park is full of people playing football as i walk to work and back home again. Now, the problem with this is, that something happens quite often as I walk past people kicking a ball about. For some unknown reason, (maybe I'm some sort of football magnet) the ball is often kicked far away from the players and straight into my direction. They say say something like 'Over here mate!'. I then know that no matter however i try to kick the ball to them, something will go wrong. Either I kick it, but not hard enough and it just looks pathertic, or even worse.... I kick it and am slightly pleased there was some power in it, until i realise it has gone in a totally different direction, and the players then have to run even further to get the ball than if I hadn't passed it to them. This happens on countless occasions. I have at times ignored the players and let them get the ball themselves, but then they just shout abuse at me, so I still find myself having to try to pass the ball back, which is always a cringe worthy experience.
So, my last problem is the obvious one. Dogs. Parks are full of dogs, and I often find myself taking a slightly longer route if I see a dog off a lead. Thankfully it's been some time since a dog has chased me or come up to me, but I still know that if they start to run, I will run, which will encourage them more. I will then look like a fool and no doubt have countless spectators laughing at me.
So, these are the main dangers I face each day trying to walk across what may seem like a harmless ordinary park.
Friday, 17 June 2011
Friday, 3 June 2011
Spike becomes Spider-Man
During my geekier days I discovered conventions. Now, I never initially intended to go to one, but I got chatting to a very pretty girl called Kellie who everyone fancied including myself at the time. She's still a mate, but I only see her on rare ocassions. Anyway, she needed to find someone to share a room with a friend, so I didn't want to turn down a pretty girl or her pretty mate. So I agree to attend a Buffy and Angel convention at Heathrow. I knew a couple of people who were going, but none whome I was really close to were going.
Still I went along, met lots of new friends, tried chatting up Amy Acker (an actress from Angel), which went quite well surprisingly and just had lots of fun.
I don't think anything ever beat my first convention, but I went to several more and had a great time at most of those too. After a few of them, I then got into the whole fancy dress scene for the evening partys, and would plan different costumes for different cons.
Spider-Man had recently come out at the cinema, and as a fan of the 1960s comics I decided to make a Spider-Man costume for a con. This was made out of some blue pyjamas and an old sheet dyed red. If I'm honest, it looked awful, but I handsewed it all, which was quite an achievement.
I really started to love the costume, so as well as wearing it at conventions I decided to wear it out in public a few times for a laugh, and it certainly did get some laughs. I then wore it to a party, but one of the guests got very drunk on tequila and threw up over it. I decided I should bin it and create a new costume.
My new costume I planned out better. I found a special dancewear company that sold stretch lycra costumes. So I ordered two lots of trousers and two long sleaved tops in blue and red. I then cut parts from the red set and stitched them onto the blue, with the spare red fabric being used for the mask and to sew onto some special soft aqua shoes I obtained.
This costume was awesome! It looked a lot better, was more comfortable, and now I could do some serious spidey stuff! The only downside was that the lycra was tight and you could easily see the shape of my penis. I therefore I had to wear a jockstrap with a sock in it to hide this, which also was a bonus as it looked as if I had a bigger package.
I accomplished many feits with my new costume, and always got laughs from the general public. I even met Louise Redknap, but she seemed to be quite scared.
I climbed lampposts, kissed lots of hot women and even did my shopping. I even got featured in FHM magazine, which was amazing. Christina saw it before me, and when she told me, I was over the moon.
As much as I had always wanted to save someones life, or even just stop a mugging, it never happened. Still, I was always willing to save people if the chance came about.
Unfortunately there did come a time when I felt I had to hang up my mask and retire from my superhero days. I discovered a small hole developing in the crotch area. I could have sewn it up, or I could have made a new suit, but I think I'd also lost the passion for running around central London as a nutter in a Spider-Man costume. There was also the fact that whenever there was a fathers for justice guy dressed in a Spidey costume and climbing some tall London landmark, people would think it was me.
Still I went along, met lots of new friends, tried chatting up Amy Acker (an actress from Angel), which went quite well surprisingly and just had lots of fun.
I don't think anything ever beat my first convention, but I went to several more and had a great time at most of those too. After a few of them, I then got into the whole fancy dress scene for the evening partys, and would plan different costumes for different cons.
Spider-Man had recently come out at the cinema, and as a fan of the 1960s comics I decided to make a Spider-Man costume for a con. This was made out of some blue pyjamas and an old sheet dyed red. If I'm honest, it looked awful, but I handsewed it all, which was quite an achievement.
I really started to love the costume, so as well as wearing it at conventions I decided to wear it out in public a few times for a laugh, and it certainly did get some laughs. I then wore it to a party, but one of the guests got very drunk on tequila and threw up over it. I decided I should bin it and create a new costume.
My new costume I planned out better. I found a special dancewear company that sold stretch lycra costumes. So I ordered two lots of trousers and two long sleaved tops in blue and red. I then cut parts from the red set and stitched them onto the blue, with the spare red fabric being used for the mask and to sew onto some special soft aqua shoes I obtained.
This costume was awesome! It looked a lot better, was more comfortable, and now I could do some serious spidey stuff! The only downside was that the lycra was tight and you could easily see the shape of my penis. I therefore I had to wear a jockstrap with a sock in it to hide this, which also was a bonus as it looked as if I had a bigger package.
I accomplished many feits with my new costume, and always got laughs from the general public. I even met Louise Redknap, but she seemed to be quite scared.
I climbed lampposts, kissed lots of hot women and even did my shopping. I even got featured in FHM magazine, which was amazing. Christina saw it before me, and when she told me, I was over the moon.
As much as I had always wanted to save someones life, or even just stop a mugging, it never happened. Still, I was always willing to save people if the chance came about.
Unfortunately there did come a time when I felt I had to hang up my mask and retire from my superhero days. I discovered a small hole developing in the crotch area. I could have sewn it up, or I could have made a new suit, but I think I'd also lost the passion for running around central London as a nutter in a Spider-Man costume. There was also the fact that whenever there was a fathers for justice guy dressed in a Spidey costume and climbing some tall London landmark, people would think it was me.
Thursday, 26 May 2011
Spike gets kicked in the testicles
I don't suppose the title of this entry leaves much to the imagination, and it's obvious what this story will be about. However there is quite a lot to say about the incident, which i hope will make it an entertaining read.
Quite a few years ago Sam had some Limp Bizkit tickets which were free when they played Finsbury Park. I'm not a big fan of them, but I wanted to go along because I suspected Hyde Park girl would be there. As it turns out, she wasn't, so there wasn't much point in me going.
Anyway, I spent a few hours there as quite a few of the Nos night crowd were there. However something happened that afternoon which had quite serious repercussions.
Yvonne and myself were messing about, I'm not even sure what it was about, but I then jokingly threatened to throw my beer over her. I never would, because, well I just wouldn't throw a drink over someone. She then kicked me square in the bollocks. I have been punched and even kicked there before, and this time was no different. It was as painful as it always is, but then after a minute or so, the pain goes and you're ok.
I decided to go a little while after that. Not because I was in pain or anything, but I wasn't bothered about seeing Limp Bizkitm and there was a house party back in Stevenage I wanted to go to.
When I got home, I went for a piss and noticed one of my testicles was looking bigger than usual and quite red. I was natually quite worried by this, so i got some ice and tried to reduce the swelling. It didn't do much to help and I was late for the party so I left it.
The next morning is where things got bad. I must have been in some discomfort when i woke up. I'm not sure if it was the pain I felt first, or the image of a big purple testicle. But i was now seriously freaking out. My cousin had an incident as a child where he twisted a testicle and had to have it removed, so seeing what mine looked like, all sorts of fears were running through my head.
I knew that I needed to talk to Dad, but he had gone out somewhere, and Mum was the only one home. I told her I needed to talk to Dad, and she tried to clal him, but he'd left his phone at home.
Mum was now very worried and wanted to know what was up. She kept asking, and I didn't want to say, and then I was actually almost in tears. She asked if I'd got a girl pregnant, to which I said 'no', and then she said something I honestly could not believe, but actually made me laugh. She didn't even ask... she said 'You've killed someone!'. I then had to tell her what had happened, and a few minutes after that Dad walked in. I showed him and he took me straight to the hospital.
This is where things got embarrassing. I had to tell the receptionist what was wrong with me, and tried to say so quietly so other patients didn't hear, but I'm sure several must have. It was also embarrassing because people probably wondered why i was kicked there. Did they suspect I'd tried to rape someone or something?
Then it was a whole day spent in the hospital waiting. The first doctor I saw was a GP and he checked it out, which also hurt somewhat. He said that there was probably very little to worry about and that it's jsut badly bruised and the testicle didn't move in on itself quick enough and was therefore bruised.
A bit later, and two other doctors came to see me. I'm guessing one or possibly both of them were junior doctors as they didn't seem to know so much. One even said to me that it's possible the testicle had died, and if that was the case, it'd just shrivel up and could be left there. This did not fill me with confidence, and made me worry a lot more. I certainly don't think he should even have said that.
A little while later I saw another doctor. Now this doctor scared the hell out of me. The reason he scared me is because he was the spitting image of soemone I know. This person I know looks a bit like a serial killer and is very odd, although still a nice guy. Anyway, seeing his face made me think 'oh my god it's Brian!'. He also examined me, and I honestly have to say that I have never been in so much pain when he did. He bascially prodded around my testicles, and to start with it was very painful, but I kept my mouth tightly shut. Then there was a point he did something and I had to scream out, echoing across the entire ward. I remember seeing Dad wincing in pain after that too.
So after having had several Doctors and Nurses checking me out, finally a doctor from the Urology department was free to come and check me out. We'd been there about seven hours by this point, waiting on this guy to turn up. He checked me over and confirmed what the GP had said and that it should be ok. He was tempted to keep me in overnight, but I wanted to go home. I got given painkillers and a jock strap to keep it supported and was told to come back the next day.
The next day I had to have a scan. It was the same scan machine they use on pregnant women, except it was used on my testicles, which was very odd. So, yet more people seeing my testicles, but they confirmed that it was healthy in there, just badly bruised.
I had to take a few weeks off work, because I couldn't walk. It was very painful, and trying to sleep was very difficult indeed. As the weeks went by the swelling went down, and the colour gradually became less purple (althoguh at one point it had gone almost completely black).
To this day I still don't think I've ever been in that much pain, or as embarrassed. I showed a picture of it to several people, as I wasn't as embarrassed about that. In the end I think going through the pain i did, i really didn't care who'd seen or touched it. As stated earlier though, the fact that people must think I'd done something to have been kicked in the testicles is what I found the most embarrassing.
Quite a few years ago Sam had some Limp Bizkit tickets which were free when they played Finsbury Park. I'm not a big fan of them, but I wanted to go along because I suspected Hyde Park girl would be there. As it turns out, she wasn't, so there wasn't much point in me going.
Anyway, I spent a few hours there as quite a few of the Nos night crowd were there. However something happened that afternoon which had quite serious repercussions.
Yvonne and myself were messing about, I'm not even sure what it was about, but I then jokingly threatened to throw my beer over her. I never would, because, well I just wouldn't throw a drink over someone. She then kicked me square in the bollocks. I have been punched and even kicked there before, and this time was no different. It was as painful as it always is, but then after a minute or so, the pain goes and you're ok.
I decided to go a little while after that. Not because I was in pain or anything, but I wasn't bothered about seeing Limp Bizkitm and there was a house party back in Stevenage I wanted to go to.
When I got home, I went for a piss and noticed one of my testicles was looking bigger than usual and quite red. I was natually quite worried by this, so i got some ice and tried to reduce the swelling. It didn't do much to help and I was late for the party so I left it.
The next morning is where things got bad. I must have been in some discomfort when i woke up. I'm not sure if it was the pain I felt first, or the image of a big purple testicle. But i was now seriously freaking out. My cousin had an incident as a child where he twisted a testicle and had to have it removed, so seeing what mine looked like, all sorts of fears were running through my head.
I knew that I needed to talk to Dad, but he had gone out somewhere, and Mum was the only one home. I told her I needed to talk to Dad, and she tried to clal him, but he'd left his phone at home.
Mum was now very worried and wanted to know what was up. She kept asking, and I didn't want to say, and then I was actually almost in tears. She asked if I'd got a girl pregnant, to which I said 'no', and then she said something I honestly could not believe, but actually made me laugh. She didn't even ask... she said 'You've killed someone!'. I then had to tell her what had happened, and a few minutes after that Dad walked in. I showed him and he took me straight to the hospital.
This is where things got embarrassing. I had to tell the receptionist what was wrong with me, and tried to say so quietly so other patients didn't hear, but I'm sure several must have. It was also embarrassing because people probably wondered why i was kicked there. Did they suspect I'd tried to rape someone or something?
Then it was a whole day spent in the hospital waiting. The first doctor I saw was a GP and he checked it out, which also hurt somewhat. He said that there was probably very little to worry about and that it's jsut badly bruised and the testicle didn't move in on itself quick enough and was therefore bruised.
A bit later, and two other doctors came to see me. I'm guessing one or possibly both of them were junior doctors as they didn't seem to know so much. One even said to me that it's possible the testicle had died, and if that was the case, it'd just shrivel up and could be left there. This did not fill me with confidence, and made me worry a lot more. I certainly don't think he should even have said that.
A little while later I saw another doctor. Now this doctor scared the hell out of me. The reason he scared me is because he was the spitting image of soemone I know. This person I know looks a bit like a serial killer and is very odd, although still a nice guy. Anyway, seeing his face made me think 'oh my god it's Brian!'. He also examined me, and I honestly have to say that I have never been in so much pain when he did. He bascially prodded around my testicles, and to start with it was very painful, but I kept my mouth tightly shut. Then there was a point he did something and I had to scream out, echoing across the entire ward. I remember seeing Dad wincing in pain after that too.
So after having had several Doctors and Nurses checking me out, finally a doctor from the Urology department was free to come and check me out. We'd been there about seven hours by this point, waiting on this guy to turn up. He checked me over and confirmed what the GP had said and that it should be ok. He was tempted to keep me in overnight, but I wanted to go home. I got given painkillers and a jock strap to keep it supported and was told to come back the next day.
The next day I had to have a scan. It was the same scan machine they use on pregnant women, except it was used on my testicles, which was very odd. So, yet more people seeing my testicles, but they confirmed that it was healthy in there, just badly bruised.
I had to take a few weeks off work, because I couldn't walk. It was very painful, and trying to sleep was very difficult indeed. As the weeks went by the swelling went down, and the colour gradually became less purple (althoguh at one point it had gone almost completely black).
To this day I still don't think I've ever been in that much pain, or as embarrassed. I showed a picture of it to several people, as I wasn't as embarrassed about that. In the end I think going through the pain i did, i really didn't care who'd seen or touched it. As stated earlier though, the fact that people must think I'd done something to have been kicked in the testicles is what I found the most embarrassing.
Monday, 25 April 2011
Spike finds a scooter
I've been lost many times in my life. Sometimes I have been sober and sometimes I have been drunk. On this recent occasion I was very drunk.
I went to my friend Cloddys barbeque in Muswell Hill. As I can get a train direct to Alexandra Palace and am never checked for tickets on that route, I decided to jump the train and walk from there. Unfortunately it was a bit further than I thought, and walking there took a good half an hour.
The barbeque was ok, but most people left reasonably early. My last direct train was around 1am, so I decided to wait until then. Cloddy was however very ill after drinking quite a lot of wine and Sambuca, so she went to bed and I was left chatting to her housemate Baz.
I knew that I had to give myself half an hour to walk back, so I left the house at around 12:20 and made my way back. Unfortunately I don't know where I went wrong, but I soon noticed that where I was walking didn't look like the road I had walked along earlier that day. I then passed some shops and saw laying on the ground a little push scooter. It looked in pretty new condition so I decided I should take it. I knew that time was ticking and I needed to get to the station to catch my last train and I figured that this mode of transport would help me get there quicker. It was amazingly good fun as there were lots of hills around that area which I was able to scoot down. It was a bit wobbly though and I had to keep putting my foot on the ground to steady myself incase I fell off.
As much fun as riding this scooter was though I was still unsure where exaclty I was, then I saw two young girls. I asked them if they knew the way to Alexandra Palace station, to which they told me to go through a park. I knew I'd not been that way earlier and was feeling quite lost. I carried on anyway and walked through some woods, but had no idea where I was. I tried calling a few people such as Alex and Sarah, to which I had no reply so I just left them voicemails. Milky actually answered, but didn't seem to be much help, and Maddie did try to give me directions, but they weren't much use with me not knowing where I was.
I decided to walk back the way I came, now knowing that I was very unlikely to make my train. The two girls I had originally asked for directions from had now gone, so I was actually getting quite worried.
I then decided I needed to take drastic action and tried flagging down cars who might be able to drive me to the station in time. I must have attempted to flag down about six or seven, but not one of them stopped. Maybe the scooter put them off and they decided to ignore me. I now knew I had no chance of making it to my train in time, so I decided to scoot around the streets on my new toy, as I didn't know what else to do. Then I noticed an amazingly cute girl called Lisa walking towards me. Pulling up on my scooter I asked her for directions. She informed me that I was nowhere near where I thought, but said she'd walk with me some of the way so I could find my way. I chatted to her for a bit and showed her some magic, which in my drunken state still seemed to go smoothly. We finally made it to the road I knew and we said goodbye, but not before asking for her Facebook.
I scooted my way back to the station whereby I knew I had a very long wait for the first train. I decided to call Maddie again to tell her I made it to the station, to which she told me to get in a taxi and I could crash there.
Maddie sent me a text with the number of a local taxi firm and I ordered one. A few minutes later a taxi pulled up, but I was unsure if it was a real taxi, it certainly didn't look like it. I spent some time talking to him asking if he was the cab I had ordered, and he insisted that he was. So I got in the car and started the journey to Walthamstow. He insisted that I paid him £25 straight up, which I found odd and was now seriously doubting if he was the taxi I'd ordered.
I then received a phonecall from a taxi driver asking where I was and that he was waiting for me outside the station. I then knew I must have been in an illegal minicab and was actually quite frightened. What if he'd planned to kidnap me or murder me?
He then asked me what I did, to which I told him I was a magician. He was then insisting I show him some magic, which was a bit hard considering he was driving, but he was very insistant. So I told him when we stopped I'd show him a trick.
We finally arrived at Maddies road and I then showed him some magic. I did try to get some money back for doing so, but he didn't agree to it. He was amazed by the trick and actually thought magic was real. He was then asking me if his family would be ok, and if his sons would get good jobs etc. I told him that I had to go, and promptly left the cab. Phew, I was almost safe!
I made it to Maddies place and we sat up chatting for a few hours whilst drinking some rum.
here are some pictures of me riding my scooter :)
I went to my friend Cloddys barbeque in Muswell Hill. As I can get a train direct to Alexandra Palace and am never checked for tickets on that route, I decided to jump the train and walk from there. Unfortunately it was a bit further than I thought, and walking there took a good half an hour.
The barbeque was ok, but most people left reasonably early. My last direct train was around 1am, so I decided to wait until then. Cloddy was however very ill after drinking quite a lot of wine and Sambuca, so she went to bed and I was left chatting to her housemate Baz.
I knew that I had to give myself half an hour to walk back, so I left the house at around 12:20 and made my way back. Unfortunately I don't know where I went wrong, but I soon noticed that where I was walking didn't look like the road I had walked along earlier that day. I then passed some shops and saw laying on the ground a little push scooter. It looked in pretty new condition so I decided I should take it. I knew that time was ticking and I needed to get to the station to catch my last train and I figured that this mode of transport would help me get there quicker. It was amazingly good fun as there were lots of hills around that area which I was able to scoot down. It was a bit wobbly though and I had to keep putting my foot on the ground to steady myself incase I fell off.
As much fun as riding this scooter was though I was still unsure where exaclty I was, then I saw two young girls. I asked them if they knew the way to Alexandra Palace station, to which they told me to go through a park. I knew I'd not been that way earlier and was feeling quite lost. I carried on anyway and walked through some woods, but had no idea where I was. I tried calling a few people such as Alex and Sarah, to which I had no reply so I just left them voicemails. Milky actually answered, but didn't seem to be much help, and Maddie did try to give me directions, but they weren't much use with me not knowing where I was.
I decided to walk back the way I came, now knowing that I was very unlikely to make my train. The two girls I had originally asked for directions from had now gone, so I was actually getting quite worried.
I then decided I needed to take drastic action and tried flagging down cars who might be able to drive me to the station in time. I must have attempted to flag down about six or seven, but not one of them stopped. Maybe the scooter put them off and they decided to ignore me. I now knew I had no chance of making it to my train in time, so I decided to scoot around the streets on my new toy, as I didn't know what else to do. Then I noticed an amazingly cute girl called Lisa walking towards me. Pulling up on my scooter I asked her for directions. She informed me that I was nowhere near where I thought, but said she'd walk with me some of the way so I could find my way. I chatted to her for a bit and showed her some magic, which in my drunken state still seemed to go smoothly. We finally made it to the road I knew and we said goodbye, but not before asking for her Facebook.
I scooted my way back to the station whereby I knew I had a very long wait for the first train. I decided to call Maddie again to tell her I made it to the station, to which she told me to get in a taxi and I could crash there.
Maddie sent me a text with the number of a local taxi firm and I ordered one. A few minutes later a taxi pulled up, but I was unsure if it was a real taxi, it certainly didn't look like it. I spent some time talking to him asking if he was the cab I had ordered, and he insisted that he was. So I got in the car and started the journey to Walthamstow. He insisted that I paid him £25 straight up, which I found odd and was now seriously doubting if he was the taxi I'd ordered.
I then received a phonecall from a taxi driver asking where I was and that he was waiting for me outside the station. I then knew I must have been in an illegal minicab and was actually quite frightened. What if he'd planned to kidnap me or murder me?
He then asked me what I did, to which I told him I was a magician. He was then insisting I show him some magic, which was a bit hard considering he was driving, but he was very insistant. So I told him when we stopped I'd show him a trick.
We finally arrived at Maddies road and I then showed him some magic. I did try to get some money back for doing so, but he didn't agree to it. He was amazed by the trick and actually thought magic was real. He was then asking me if his family would be ok, and if his sons would get good jobs etc. I told him that I had to go, and promptly left the cab. Phew, I was almost safe!
I made it to Maddies place and we sat up chatting for a few hours whilst drinking some rum.
here are some pictures of me riding my scooter :)
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Spikes Grandad
Apart from my immediate family, the rest of the family I don't consider myself to bond with all that well. I get on with them, and I still love them, but I am very different to them and as a child was so shy that I'd barely speak to any of them. There was one exception though, and that was my Grandad on Dads side. He died about eight years ago now, but it really doesn't seem that long.
He'd had a stroke and was taken to hospital. That was the last time I saw him. He hated it there, and one night he had gotten up to try to escape, but he fell over and hit his head. A nurse attended him by putting a plaster on his head, but didn't report it in an incident book, and didn't check for concussion. That night he died. After the postmortem it was revealed that it's very likely concussion was the cause of death.
Quite a few people attended the funeral which was at his local church, but it was only Dad and myself who went with the coffin to the crematorium. It was a very strange feeling there. I didn't cry at the church or crematorium, as I find it very hard to cry.
I certainly felt a stronger bond between Dad and myself, and I did like the fact that it was just us two who saw him off properly. I know Dad was very upset, and it was a strange feeling knowing that after all the years, it was now me who was there for him.
I have to admit, I was still often very shy around Grandad, but I did look up to him a lot. Mainly because he was totally bonkers. He would sit in a corner smoking a pipe and not really say much, but when he did talk, he'd pretend to be stupid for laughs, which always worked.
He had some odd ways, and in later life the main thing he'd eat would be Jam sandwiches while he sat and watched 'Home and Away'.
Although he's dead, and I don't believe in an afterlife, I like to think that he still lives on through me in a way. I guess I am now the nutty one in the family, and now that my confidence has grown, they all seem to be aware of that. He was always one for the ladies as well as being silly. I think I've certainly taken on some of his traits though, which although others may not, I consider to be a good thing.
I do miss Grandad, and I do wish I'd spoken to him more and gotten to know him better. It was very rare I saw a serious side to him, although I know there must have been. I know he was at the battle of Dunkirk, and then went off to Burma to fight against the Japanese. He never spoke about it though.
I hope he knew that he was someone I looked up to. I never really showed that I did though, but I know Grandma now knows that I did, which I guess is a good thing.
He'd had a stroke and was taken to hospital. That was the last time I saw him. He hated it there, and one night he had gotten up to try to escape, but he fell over and hit his head. A nurse attended him by putting a plaster on his head, but didn't report it in an incident book, and didn't check for concussion. That night he died. After the postmortem it was revealed that it's very likely concussion was the cause of death.
Quite a few people attended the funeral which was at his local church, but it was only Dad and myself who went with the coffin to the crematorium. It was a very strange feeling there. I didn't cry at the church or crematorium, as I find it very hard to cry.
I certainly felt a stronger bond between Dad and myself, and I did like the fact that it was just us two who saw him off properly. I know Dad was very upset, and it was a strange feeling knowing that after all the years, it was now me who was there for him.
I have to admit, I was still often very shy around Grandad, but I did look up to him a lot. Mainly because he was totally bonkers. He would sit in a corner smoking a pipe and not really say much, but when he did talk, he'd pretend to be stupid for laughs, which always worked.
He had some odd ways, and in later life the main thing he'd eat would be Jam sandwiches while he sat and watched 'Home and Away'.
Although he's dead, and I don't believe in an afterlife, I like to think that he still lives on through me in a way. I guess I am now the nutty one in the family, and now that my confidence has grown, they all seem to be aware of that. He was always one for the ladies as well as being silly. I think I've certainly taken on some of his traits though, which although others may not, I consider to be a good thing.
I do miss Grandad, and I do wish I'd spoken to him more and gotten to know him better. It was very rare I saw a serious side to him, although I know there must have been. I know he was at the battle of Dunkirk, and then went off to Burma to fight against the Japanese. He never spoke about it though.
I hope he knew that he was someone I looked up to. I never really showed that I did though, but I know Grandma now knows that I did, which I guess is a good thing.
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Spike and Toffee
We've never been a family to have had many pets. There was of course the fish which I accidently killed. Then there was also Tigger the cat, but she had to be given to my Grandma a couple of years after I was born, as Mum became allergic to her.
The only other pet we had was a Hamster we named Toffee due to being a toffee like colour. Toffee was a great pet who was easy to look after. We were often unsure of the sex, but after noticing two large lumps on his back one day, we took him to the vet. That was when we realised they were just his testicles and there was nothing wrong with him.
Toffee did live quite a long life for a hamster, I think it was a good three to four years. I have to admit that I was useless at handling him, I'm useless with animals and always worried he'd bite me. Howeve I don't think he ever bit anyone, he was a very nervous hamster and just wee'd all the time.
We got him one of those hamster balls so that he could walk around the house in it. The problem was that he was shit scared of it. Whenever we tried to put him in it, he'd shake uncontrollably and wee himself.
I don't think Toffee ever really got the hang of the wheel in his cage either. He wouldn't sit inside it and then run, he would climb up the side of the cage, hang on and spin the top of the wheel with his front paw. It was pretty damn impressive to watch.
I'll always remember the day that Toffee died. It was on a Christmas Eve. Charlottes web was on tv, and I'd gone to feed Toffee and change his water. I knew instantly he was dead, I'm not sure why I knew, but I just had a feeling. A few hours later Mum thought it was odd that he'd not made any noise, and his food hadn't been touched, that's when we knew for sure he was dead.
So, being winter and very cold and frozen outside, Dad got a pick axe out to dig a hole for Toffee and then burried him. Mum was in floods of tears and really upset over Toffee dying. Claire and myself, we weren't really all that bothered which I think really annoyed Mum, I think she felt we should have been more upset. We were then banned from having any more pets.
The only other pet we had was a Hamster we named Toffee due to being a toffee like colour. Toffee was a great pet who was easy to look after. We were often unsure of the sex, but after noticing two large lumps on his back one day, we took him to the vet. That was when we realised they were just his testicles and there was nothing wrong with him.
Toffee did live quite a long life for a hamster, I think it was a good three to four years. I have to admit that I was useless at handling him, I'm useless with animals and always worried he'd bite me. Howeve I don't think he ever bit anyone, he was a very nervous hamster and just wee'd all the time.
We got him one of those hamster balls so that he could walk around the house in it. The problem was that he was shit scared of it. Whenever we tried to put him in it, he'd shake uncontrollably and wee himself.
I don't think Toffee ever really got the hang of the wheel in his cage either. He wouldn't sit inside it and then run, he would climb up the side of the cage, hang on and spin the top of the wheel with his front paw. It was pretty damn impressive to watch.
I'll always remember the day that Toffee died. It was on a Christmas Eve. Charlottes web was on tv, and I'd gone to feed Toffee and change his water. I knew instantly he was dead, I'm not sure why I knew, but I just had a feeling. A few hours later Mum thought it was odd that he'd not made any noise, and his food hadn't been touched, that's when we knew for sure he was dead.
So, being winter and very cold and frozen outside, Dad got a pick axe out to dig a hole for Toffee and then burried him. Mum was in floods of tears and really upset over Toffee dying. Claire and myself, we weren't really all that bothered which I think really annoyed Mum, I think she felt we should have been more upset. We were then banned from having any more pets.
Monday, 21 March 2011
Spike spends time in a shed
As I hated secondary school so much, I'd often skive quite a lot. Now this wasn't an easy task as our form tutor was quite strict when it came to absence, and a note from a parent was always needed after returning to school.
Well, when I was actually ill, or feigned being ill, my mum would of course write me a note. Quite often she would write one, but then the next day I'd still be unwell, so she'd then write me another to explain why I'd be absent for more than one day. When this happened, I'd keep the first note hidden in a drawer so that I could use it at a later date.
So over the years I aquired several spare notes which I'd use to explain my absense when I had skived school. There was however one other problem. Sometimes my mum would pop home from work at lunchtimes to drop off some shopping or hang out some washing. Therefore it wasn't safe for me to stay inside the house all day, so I needed to find somewhere to hide during lunch hours.
The best place I could think of was the garden shed, although there was still a worry she'd spot the door unlocked if she was hanging out washing. So I figured out a way to get into the shed with the door still locked.
I'd unlock the door, walk inside the shed and open the side window. Then I'd come back out of the shed, lock the door and then climb through the tiny window into the shed. I'd then sit in there between 12pm and 2pm until I knew it was safe to climb back out of the window and go back into the house.
I didn't really do anything in the shed, I just used to sit there thinking, and it was often quite uncomfortable and sometimes cold depending on the time of year. I guess this sorta shows how much I hated school, that I'd be prepared to sit in a shed for two hours.
Anyway it always worked a treat and I was never discovered.
Well, when I was actually ill, or feigned being ill, my mum would of course write me a note. Quite often she would write one, but then the next day I'd still be unwell, so she'd then write me another to explain why I'd be absent for more than one day. When this happened, I'd keep the first note hidden in a drawer so that I could use it at a later date.
So over the years I aquired several spare notes which I'd use to explain my absense when I had skived school. There was however one other problem. Sometimes my mum would pop home from work at lunchtimes to drop off some shopping or hang out some washing. Therefore it wasn't safe for me to stay inside the house all day, so I needed to find somewhere to hide during lunch hours.
The best place I could think of was the garden shed, although there was still a worry she'd spot the door unlocked if she was hanging out washing. So I figured out a way to get into the shed with the door still locked.
I'd unlock the door, walk inside the shed and open the side window. Then I'd come back out of the shed, lock the door and then climb through the tiny window into the shed. I'd then sit in there between 12pm and 2pm until I knew it was safe to climb back out of the window and go back into the house.
I didn't really do anything in the shed, I just used to sit there thinking, and it was often quite uncomfortable and sometimes cold depending on the time of year. I guess this sorta shows how much I hated school, that I'd be prepared to sit in a shed for two hours.
Anyway it always worked a treat and I was never discovered.
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