Sunday, 31 December 2017


10 best laid plans, the events, the things that we were all supposed to do in the year 2017. It’s too late, the time has gone, the moments left behind like a worthless dream. There were no actors or actresses, no finished plans or scripts. All just a memory.

9 more hours to go, or would that be minutes, at the moment that you read this. Nine more chances to make a list, to think of things to say, or even do, in the coming year.  The nine months before this day have now vanished before your very eyes.

8 moments of magic, or maybe even a few more than eight, will hopefully have taken place in this year and space. We’re about to have 365 chances at magic which makes eight, more or less, seem like a wasted opportunity. Then again, if you’re like me… each day IS magic as I'm still here.

7 places to visit, this year or the next? Life is a journey so maybe, next year, you and I will get to see those seven fabulous places that we swore we’d see this year. There’s no excuse, other than time or money, but it’s amazing what we can achieve when we put our minds into something.
6 saving words that calm a friend, were spoken this year. Obviously, those saving words were surrounded by other letters, additional text, that wasn't really required. We care, we love, we really should help, as that’s what makes life special.

5 more chances to spend time with you, next year, which will hopefully extend to far, far more chances. Life is precious, an unknown quantity, drip fed a day at a time. 2017 was a difficult year, with people missing from my heart, never, ever, to return. If you’re in my heart you better had realise that you’re there to stay. If you need me… you've 365 new chances to say hello. Make them count.

4 moments of failure, with maybe more that I've forgotten in the last year. I'm often one to not be too forward, or take opportunities when I should. I try to respect everyone, which means I'm stationery, dependable, even though I just want to go wild. Be crazy. It’s a blessing and a curse. Here’s to a fresh set of chances to go crazy… No regrets.

3 is the odd one out, no matter where you are. Let’s not be defined next year. We’re not this, not that and never going to be the other. Boundaries be damned. Definitions be thrown away. We’re supposed to be individuals even if we’re wearing, or driving, the exact same thing.

2 more chances to apologise. It’s never too late and, in this day and age, can be done without even showing your face. A simple text, a quick reply, a moment’s thought and we can hopefully move forward.  Take the chance. Be brave. It’s not pride stopping the apology… it’s fear of admitting. Go on, admit it, apologise if needed.

1 more second remains. That’s it, done, finished, 2017 has gone and now, right now, before the New Year’s lull embraces us, take the day to plan, the strategy of your life. We don’t need to pick any single day to be something we've always wanted to be, but the start of 2018 is better than nothing at all. It’s not going to be easy, as change never is, unless you don’t need change. But, saying that, we need growth. We need accomplishments no matter how small.

0 excuses. Be and do what you've always wanted to do and be.  It may take time but, if you believe, then of course, I believe in you and what you can do.

Happy New Year.

Tuesday, 26 December 2017

Jack - Snotty Bear (Part 4)

Tiny, who was walking alongside Joy, stopped and peered through the tree leaves. Holding up a finger to his lips, with a great big loud ‘Shhhhhhhhhh’, he gestured for Joy to be as quiet as she could be. They wouldn’t want to annoy the Polar Bear, or even scare him, as they were naughty elves and often annoyed people. Stepping from behind the trees they approached the cave entrance.

Joy, tip toeing as quietly as she could, with Tiny having a piggy back ride, stopped as the sunshine suddenly seemed to vanish. Darkness descended around them until, obviously, they realised that something had created a big, bad, scary shadow over the both of them. Turning ever so slowly they both came face to face with a wall of white fur and, looking up, noticed that the wall of fur also had teeth. A lot of teeth. Two great big rows of teeth, all sharp, all quite scary and white.

As the seconds ticked away, frozen with scared faces, the wall of fur, as well as teeth, sat down allowing the sunshine to return. With a great big smile, the Polar Bear started to say hello, “Hello Elves. What brings you all the way out here?”
“We need some of your snot, nearly a cup full.” Stated Tiny while climbing down from Joy’s shoulders.
“Well,” said the Polar Bear, “That will be difficult as I haven’t had a cold for awhile and my nose seems to be snot free.” Tiny looked at Joy, while Joy looked at Tiny, both wondering what they should do next. With a small eyebrow raise, a cheeky giggle, Tiny reached into his Elf suit to find a cup and while doing that Joy found the Pepper pot she had brought along, just in case.
“Mr Bear,” said Tiny, “Could you please come closer?”
“Why yes I can,” replied the Polar bear while moving closer.  Pouring the pepper into her hand Joy inhaled as much air as her lungs could find, raised her hand, then blew as hard as she could, sending the Pepper flying straight into Bear’s nose.

The bear leaned back slightly, nose twitching more and more as the seconds flew away. With an ‘ah’, plus an ‘ah’, with another ‘ah’, the bear finished the ‘ah’ with a great big extremely loud ‘choo’. The snot flew forward as Tiny caught the snot in the cup as well as his face. They then watched as all the snow fell from the surrounding trees.

“Well,” said Bear, “That was a very naughty way of getting my snot. If you’d have waited I could have given you a jar full as the Badgers have it for their aching… .”  Before Bear could finish Tiny and Joy ran off as fast as they could. With snot still dripping from his nose the Bear smiled, “Happy Christmas Tiny and Joy, Happy Christmas!”

Jack, tapping his fingers on the ancient oak table, knees high above the small height, wished that they’d make furniture for him and not just the smaller Elves. It was often difficult eating meals, playing board games or, even, for his poor, poor back that always had to lean over. He also wished that the Elves would return with their intended items. He worried that they’d get up to mischief, or even worse, eat all the Candy in the stores. But, of course, he had to have faith. As his mind started to calm itself the door flew open, smashing into the wall, sending the picture of Father Christmas crashing to the floor. Closing his eyes at the naughty way they always opened, or closed, every single door, he was at least happy to see them all return. Jinx, Pine, Elfie, Dash, Tiny and Joy marched across the room and, in a line, presented their chosen item.

Jack, with glee, took the Reindeer’s fleck, Bunny fur and Polar Bear’s snot. Turning to his ‘frosty’ bowl he threw them in and started to stir with the smallest spoon he’d ever seen. Just like the furniture the cutlery was also just a little bit too small. Once finished he picked up the bowl and walked outside, with all of the Elves following him, as they didn’t want to miss what happened next.

Jack knew that Christmas was a special occasion, especially seeing as family members managed to come together to wish each other well, but this was for a short time. People seemed to live busy lives, watching television, wasting precious time, instead of being naughty, eating candy or laughing with each other, so this was his way of making things that bit better. He wanted snow and, seeing as his name was ‘Jack Frost’, it was up to him to create such a thing.

With the Elves gathered around he started to speak the Christmas words,
“There was once a Christmas without an Eve,
Filled with nothing but snow,
And on that very special day we received,
Love that never wanted to let us go,
With a lot of gracious smiles,
That loved us from across all the miles,
I give back to the world this precious gift,
Of this great big giant, snow filled drift.”

The Elves all looked with amazement as jack, scooping out the contents of goop from the bowl, threw it into the air and ever so slightly exhaled his ‘frost air’ from his mouth. As the goop fell into the frost it turned into a great big snow flake. Moving quickly, Jack caught the flake. Then, with as much force as he could find, he threw the flake high into the sky which reached all the way into the clouds. One by one the clouds changed, all the way around the world, then, like magic, snow started to fall.

Jack, feeling proud of the Elves, turned to them, “Thank you all for making this Christmas special. We are family, a great big world family, that now has snow and that’s all thanks to you Elves.  Happy Christmas!”  The Elves jumped up and down and hugged each other.

The End.

Happy Christmas xxxx

Jack - Bunny Fun (Part 3)

Jinx, along with Pine, shot down the hill at an impressively naughty speed while sat on top of a large slice of tree bark that they’d found. With expert skill they moved ever so slightly left, or right, to avoid various stones and trees. To a novice sledger this type of environment would be a hazard, even dangerous, but to these naughty Elves it was just another day in the snow.

As they reached the bottom of the hill, in perfect sight of the Rabbit’s warren, they jumped from the makeshift bark sledge and did a quick check of their reserves, “How much candy did you bring with you Jinx?” asked Pine, ready with his list after Jinx had finished,
“I brought along two sticks of rock, 10 large sweets, a bag of gobstoppers, a selection of liquorice and a great big cola bottle!” exclaimed Jinx. In turn Pine relayed his list,
“I brought along one stick of rock, 4 large sweets, an extra large bag of gobstoppers and an extra amazing fizzy cola bottle. Large.” Their eyes widened at such a selection of candy and without even asking the question, they both shouted, as loud as they could, at the exact same time,
“Eat them all!”

Happy with their rapid eating of candy, as well as the sugar frenzy required by the scary downhill sledge event, they carried on their way.  They’d often visit the Rabbits, on one of their adventure days, so today wasn’t much different than any other adventure, other than the strands of hair required. As they approached Jinx stepped on a twig and, from over a small bank of snow, Noel, Holly, Robin and Angel’s head popped up with twitching noses. Happy to see each other they all started jumping around, rolling in the snow, becoming thoroughly exhausted. As the calm arrived, Holly, the main bunny, hopped over to the elves, “Good to see you both!  What do we owe this visit, other than to be naughty or fill the entrances with snow like last time. It took an hour to find the entrance!” Pine laughed, knowing that they’d find their way home,
“Good to see you too,” said Jinx, “We’re here to collect some bunny fur for Jack! Is it just the four of you?”
“Yes. Bowser, Snuffle, Sneaky and the other 20 are away for a Christmas Carrot disco,” said Holly.
“It would have been great to have seen everyone but, as always, we’re up to no good and need that fur!” replied Jinx.
“Snowball fight you for it?” Said Robin the bunny, jumping into the conversation.
“You’re on!” shouted Pine with excitement building.

Seconds later Pine and Jinx, standing behind a snow wall, built their ammunition made from the surrounding snow. Over in the other corner, a few meters away, Noel, Holly and Robin also prepared their snowballs. Angel stood, just off to the side, making sure that everyone followed the rules.

“Before we start may I state that there shall be no cheating, nothing naughty, just normal snowballs. No giant avalanches, no rapid-fire inventions or any mischievous deeds at all. Understand?” Said Angel as everyone nodded. With a nod the carnage began.

As the snowballs started to fly Jinx, being a master of all things snow, took aim with his very first shot. He measured the wind strength with a sticking out tongue, the weight of the snowball already in mind, he took aim and fired. He looked on, with glee, as the lump of snow flew through the air at a slight angle. As it started to change direction, towards the ground, it hit Robin, at full force sending her rolling backwards into the snow. Spluttering, with her nose and ears full of snow, she walked off towards the side of the area. It was now two versus two. Elves against bunnies. Fur against naughty.

Holly’s snowball smashed into Pine’s hat, as Jinx answered back with a volley of snow. The game continued for the next ten minutes. All having the greatest time in the world until, finally, the winner was announced. Jinx and Pine, of course, had won and they dropped the remaining ammunition and walked over to Angel. “Well done,” announced Angel, “which means that you can now have your prize of fur!” At this, Angel, who had collected the fur from the corner of their Warren before the match started, handed over the fur. Both Jinx and Pine jumped for joy but, before Angel could say anything further, she watched as both Elves ran off faster than she could think. Shaking her head, with a great big smile, she knew that although they were naughty, the Elves surely did have hearts of gold. 

“Happy Christmas Jinx and Pine,” Angel shouted, “Happy Christmas!”

Sunday, 24 December 2017

Jack - Reindeer Games (Part 2)

Elfie skipped along the path, with Dash following closely behind, gathering quite a pace with each skip. Having fun, while singing one of their odd songs, being naughty as usual. At the top of his voice, Elfie sang with Dash, repeating, “Give me an N then an A with a U, shout a G with a H with a T for me and a Y for you! What do you have? NAUGHTY!”

Their words echoed through the trees, their naughty verse probably causing a curse but, as they neared the edge of the tree line, they could see the tundra start to appear… the home of the reindeer. Naturally they roamed around, if they weren't flying high above the clouds, but since becoming friends with Father Christmas, all those years previous, the Elves built some beautiful stables complete with flashing lights and a disco deck. The Elves liked music, especially Christmas music, but the Reindeer simply insisted on music at all times.

The skipping stopped as Elfie and Dash approached, their vision filled with the many flashing lights and ever present music blaring. The song was one of their favourites, especially when wrapping presents, so their joy reached new levels. Walking past each Stable they read the names aloud, “Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and,” they both paused, filled with wonder and excitement as the last name appeared, “Rudolph!” Looking at each other, their red cheeks glowing and hands, raised into the air, waving around.

They’d only met Rudolph once before, at a Christmas disco, but weren't feeling naughty enough to push past everyone else to say hello. This, of course, was a long time ago and now, right now, they were more than naughty enough to say hello. With Elfie stood slightly to the right of the door, Dash to the left, they both raised a hand and knocked as hard as they could. As soon as they stopped knocking they both spun round to place their backs to the wall. The door opened and they both gasped as Rudolph’s bright red nose appeared, “Hello, who’s there?” said Rudolph. With naughty intent, Dash reached out and prodded Rudolph’s nose as, at the same time, Elfie did the same. A double side nose prod was one of their best moves!  Stepping forward a little more, with a sore nose, Rudolph appeared, looking left, then right. Shaking his head and closing his eyes, he knew that they were here for something naughty. “You two… you’d better come in before you catch a cold from sneezing on each other!”

Elfie, standing on a chair without being asked, bounced up and down listening for the spring noise as Dash wormed his way across the floor on his back. Rudolph, still shaking that head of his, switched the kettle on and looked at his nose in the small mirror on the wall. “Okay you two, what would you like as I'm sure that this isn't a social call? Candy perhaps?” Elfie, still bouncing on the chair, shouted,
“A fleck?”
“A fleck?” Rudolph repeated,
“A fleck!” said Dash.
“A fleck?” said Rudolph as he looked confused.

As Elfie bounced even higher, on the way down, his leg crashed through the chair’s soft cushioning and the spring flew from under the chair. They all watched as it shot through the air, smashing through the window behind Rudolph. Elfie, pulling his leg free, shot across to the next chair, sitting while whistling a tune of ‘It wasn't me’. Rudolph, expecting nothing less from an Elf visit, sat and, sipping on his Winter grey tea, asked in a calm voice, “What is this about a Fleck?”
“We need a fleck of hoof, from a reindeer!” stated Dash who had also stopped being naughty.
“Who sent you?”

“Jack sent the both of us to find you!” shouted Dash, as he dug into the side of a chair, eventually  finding a chocolate snack.
“Ah, Mr Frost. In that case you’ll have to do one thing for me before you can have your fleck.”
Alfie, suddenly excited, blurted out suggestions, “Eat candy until my belly explodes? Wrap presents until my hands hurt? Trip 20 friends and laugh at them?” Rudolph, with a smile, muttered words under this breath before continuing,
“I’d simply like you both to learn a new dance!” Dash stood, virtually at the same time as Elfie, both literally wanting to explode at such a task. They loved dancing. It was one of their favourite things in the world and, if they were honest, their favourite thing in the world would actually be dancing, while wrapping presents.

Placing the cup onto the table beside him, pressing the play button on the record player, Rudolph walked into the middle of the room, as Elfie and Dash joined him. Dash to his left and Elfie to his right. “The dance is easy,” Rudolph explained, “so copy me and we’ll see if we can get it right!”

Rudolph stepped to the right and the two copied him. He then stepped to the left, jumped up clacking his hooves together, the fronts to the rears, landing back firmly onto the floor. Both Elves stood still, partly with wonder at such a move, but mostly in admiration for Rudolph. At that exact moment, they knew why he was head Reindeer. As the wonder started to fade Elfie looked at Dash, both knowing what to do, as they both jumped into the air, bringing their legs up and slapping their feet against their hands.

Over the next ten minutes they both danced, copied, danced some more and, finally, managed to complete the dance with absolutely no mistakes. They were tired, possibly all out of ‘naughty’, but Rudolph knew that they’d get that back soon enough. Trotting over to the fire place, lifting his leg slightly, Rudolph brought his hoof down onto the edge of the brickwork and a small amount of Hoof fell away. He was due for a nail cut anyway so this was actually helping him, “There you go you two, a nice small ‘fleck’ for you both. Be good, be polite, don’t be too naughty and dance as shown at the Christmas party!”  Both Elves smiled from ear to ear, as they were handed their prize. Mission accomplished and, before Rudolph could say anything further, they’d ran out of his house, slamming the door as hard as they could, smashing the other small window in his room.

Shaking his head, again, Rudolph sat down, sipped his tea and smiled. “Merry Christmas Elfie and Dash, Merry Christmas!”

Thursday, 21 December 2017


Jack stood in front of the large board that was filled with diagrams, charts, dates, times and, of course, naughty little drawings made by the Elves. Biting the corner of his lip, frustration settling after many hours, he knew that he had to create a plan or else. Turning his head, ever so slightly, he could hear them, behind him, sniggering away as they always did. He didn't really care what they were doing as long as they managed to get the job done.

Turning quickly, much to the startled gaze of the Elves, he looked each of them in the eyes to ensure he had their full attention. They, after all, did not want to annoy Jack. Not because he was mean, or angry, but because they respected him and all that he stood for. With a grin of intent, Jack summoned his strength and started to explain, “Right, you sorry lot, there’s a job to do and I want you to help!  I want three groups of two.” Jack stood still, listening to silence for ten seconds, with nothing moving within the room. Not even an inch. “You can be naughty!”  The room suddenly became a torrent of activity with Elf climbing over Elf until three sets of Elves stood to attention.

Looking each of them up and down, noticing their lob sided hats, snot covered noses and general, ‘dragged through a hedge backwards’ tardy condition, Jack knew that his mission might not actually happen. But, after thinking, and despite their naughty nature, they did manage to get things done when it was in their best interests. As the other remaining Elves composed themselves, managing to sit down on the benches behind the six at the front, Jack started to tell them all about their mission.

“You six will be responsible for three tasks, one task each, to ensure that we get snow this year which,” he stopped for a brief second as two of the Elves started to yawn, “ensures that all of you can go sledging!” The yawns vanished as they realised that they’d actually get to do something they really liked. Chaos usually spread across the valley, at the thought of such an event, but Jack had to ensure that they stayed on track. They were naughty, mischievous like no other, but once something had their interest they would complete that task like nothing else existed.

Knowing that he now had their full attention he started to list the tasks to a captive audience, “Task one would be to collect a fleck from a Reindeer’s hoof. Task two would be to gather a strand of hair from a white Bunnies’ nose and task 3, being the hardest, would be to gather half a cup of snot from a Polar Bear’s nose!”  Before Jack had even finished the six Elves ran from the room, slamming the door with an almighty crash as the last Elf vanished.

Looking sad, the remaining Elves sat looking at Jack and, as he reflected on his decision to involve them again, especially after last year’s disaster, he actually would have liked to have included all of them. But, as Father Christmas once said, a great big bunch of Elves roaming the snow covered land could only mean one thing… absolute destruction of everything sane and good. Being naughty, after all, did seem to be what they were second best at. Jack smiled as he recalled what they were best at, “I have a question for the remaining Elves,” he stated, as they all stopped what they were doing, looking over to Jack, “who wants to wrap some presents?” The cheers filled the room as the Elves, once again, climbed over each other towards the door that lead to the presents. Jack shook his head but carried on smiling.

He, after all, wanted this Christmas to be special but only for good Boys, Girls, adults and Elves alike.

Next: A Reindeer’s Dance

Thursday, 14 December 2017


Sometimes, or even many times, the creative process can fail. I need to bite, to feel a subject, before pressing the keys on a keyboard. I can start but quickly realise that I'm simply not 'feeling' something. Sometimes it's difficult to finish a Blog.

Here's a collection of words that didn't quite make it to an actual Blog post.  I go from the moment I start typing with Blog posts so I have to be fast. It's all about the feeling, as mentioned above, the actual emotion at that moment in my heart. Every... single... time.

There was once a time when I actually had to venture out into the day, to say hello, to speak actual real words that could be heard in person but that was a long time ago. We’re now in a new age, the Twitter, Tinder, social age of connecting without barely even lifting a finger.

It’s madness that I can copy in a hundred people, the never ending friends list, sending many words of worth or, at times, words that barely make any sense. There’s no room for grammar, soliciting wasted moments when all you need is a letter. It matters not that the word, or letter, conveys barely any understanding but that’s okay, that’s perfectly fine, as it’s all quickly forgotten.

The stream keeps on moving, endlessly, capturing vacant thoughts, reposts, copy and pastes, with barely any new media assembled to ensure a smile. We’re passive, aggressive, ever ready for a fight and quicker to vanquish something that shows success from another. We’re guilty, we’re all there, with the digital eye ever asking us to submit more and more.

But, when that is said, I’d prefer the analogue way, the olden days, of actual dates within a day, to share, to laugh, to smile with an actual person.

I always wanted one, a life, that thing that so many purported to own and share on a daily basis via social media. It seemed so serene, magical, filled with happiness and smiles of glee. Each picture, every single word, living a never ending dream of clean surroundings and soul feeding bliss.

I always wanted one, that life, with every solitary moment, each emotion, captured, distilled, created in a maximum shape of 2048px wide. Such beauty, such providence, a spiralling monument of momentary collages. I can, almost, taste the life I need to live, the life I want in so many ways.
I always wanted one, the life, where my moments were displayed to the world like a canvas full of fractures and faint ripples. I have shattered dreams to share, broken souvenirs, with doubts and fears hidden behind a smile or prevalence.

I always wanted one,

Suddenly, from the inner wishes of my soul, I decided to chase the moon that seemed to be surrendering in the dark sky. Jumping as high as I could manage I reached ahead, with all of my energy, grabbing hold of a star flying fast through the same sky. Swiftly, with ease, zooming away with the world’s wishes.

From the distance I spied a mountain, filled with forbidden fruit, a valley of wishes and fantasies. As the view approaches, appears, then vanishes behind me, surrounded by the star’s glow, I make a thousand wishes within a few seconds and moments. I want to be something that’s between black and white, something else, something… better.

I can see it, way away in the distance. The moon, glowing, smiling, casting a kind of solemn refection onto the world. It’s my destiny, it’s what I’m shooting for, where I need to be. Maybe I’ll float within the outer space, for a while, basking in the calm and silence of space. It’s hard to breath, it’s a place of splendour and fear, but that’s okay as I’m on an adventure of space and time.

I’ve mentioned flying, a few times, which seems to be a valid inflection of my spoken life. If you’re not flying then you’re grounded.

With all the strength I have in the world, I grasp, I hold, I try to retain you in this world but that’s not going to work. That’s never going to happen. The energy, the fire, it’s not enough and never will be. 

As a child we held hands, day after day, knowing that all the help I ever needed in the world was right by my side. I simply never, ever knew, that one day that hand may actually, forever and one more day, vanish from my reach. I’m strong in the world. I’m a bridge for others in this place, yet that came from you. You’re my blood, my life, which can never be forgotten as long as I can open my eyes and see the world.

There’s a lesson, there’s a momentary pause, there’s the life I’m in, within, that reminds me that I’m no more special than any other person. But, to you, I’m your Son, your life, the very reason why you still smile. 

We all must let go, at some point in our lives, as that’s life. There’s no preparation, there’s no saviour, there’s no book that will ease the answers before the question even appears. Time. The luxury of it all. Seconds. The moments we take for granted. Never look back at what you didn’t do, the things you said, as that’s all forgiven when a Mother looks at her son and tenderly whispers, “I love you!”

When you look into the eyes of your own children, if you have them, they too may one day have to say goodbye and that, that thought, is an extreme black hole of madness waiting to stab your heart until you bleed tears. It all comes back to time. How long? How much? What can we pay for more? 

There is no more time. There never will be.

I have to let you go

The darkness crawls, aware, knowing how and what I’m feeling. Looking through the large glass windows, surrounded by man made plastic, into the night sky, sleep evades my every single thought. I’m awake, I know why, I cannot state the how, but this is the case no matter what flows through this heavy mind of mine. I cannot stop thinking about you.

As with many thoughts in this world it started with something so innocent, a moments momentary glance, a whisper that seemed to be passed across the room like a magical voodoo spell with intentions to play with my mind, body and possibly soul. Forget the mention of my soul, it’s as if I no longer have such a thing, as it’s yours. Cursed, the long-forgotten emotions left behind within the void of past situations. I’d misplaced such thoughts, banished them towards a place that could never be found again, in the safe knowing smiles that I’d no longer be a slave to the fruits of this life.

They say that the very first hello, that singular moment of impotence, when the air escapes your lungs and forces your heart into a place of suspension, is one of those life changing instances that seldom happens to most of us. You turned and in one instant I had to stop. Gathering composure, reaching for a smile to appear on my lips as I ask my stance to behave, I approached and began the usual play of words.

I’m still here, looking at the ceiling, glancing across to the time displayed on the wall, wondering how I’d managed to get to this place, again, once again, the place that I’d wished I’d never approach. 

As the words flow, from my lips, the soft echoes exhaled from my mind, I can see that you’re not quite aware of the deception forming around you. I smile, ever so slightly, while mirroring your stance in a way to create conformity, symmetry, a bonding of moments and intentions. We’ve already discovered so much about each other, the same interests, the same visions, the various moments that we’ve shared, in this life of ours, while walking separate paths. Until now. Right now, here, together, minutes after saying the very first hello.

A few more moments fly past, words moving as they should, from person to person, respecting the flow of conversation, never interrupting other than to laugh or show a facial expression or two. I can appreciate, I can envision, but I’ve heard it all before. The same differences in all of us.  We’ve all seen a sunrise, possibly walked a few mountains in our time, kissed a few fools, slept with a few misses and regretted a second or two.

The drinks vanish, with renewed glass re-appearing as the hour strikes its hand against the clock. Time, flowing as it does when you’re having fun, within the objective, doesn’t care for what we have to say. It’s all forgotten before the words even appear within our minds. I know that I’m wearing a mask...

Staring at the phone, wasting time, thinking, excluding the thoughts that I should be thinking, I wait that little bit longer. It’s been awhile, an age, which feels like years, since I last listened to your voice. 

It thrills me, excites and fills my blood full of warmth and calm. You’re special, you’re ‘that’ person in my life. I miss you. Love you. Need you. But, when all thought is said and flutters through my mind, the words are nothing when compared to actually being with you. Around you, holding that hand of yours and, of course, battling through this world that’s been graciously given to us.

For everyone, for everything, find the warmth this Christmas and never, ever, let it go.  No matter the distance, or time… give love this Christmas.

Or £50. I’d also like £50.  Thanks.

Focussing across the ring, I know that you’re there, celebrating an early victory and relishing your jubilant outcome. I’m not one for confrontation but, when that’s said I’ve heard what’s been done, I’m hardly a shrinking violet and will protect what’s mine. This means, right now, that I’m here and I’m going to fight for what it’s all worth.

Vile words, pretentious assignations with others, it’s all been going on for far too long and, as I stand, I smack the gloves together knowing what I’m about to do, no matter what, needs to happen. Standing, slightly hoping from one leg to the other, adrenaline spikes and I’m called forward. The words of the ref resound in my head, meaningless moments, all vanishing as you stand in front of me.

The bell rings, echoing through the room, as the resonant shouts, screams and insane advice are thrown into the air.  Stepping forward with speed, you’re upon me as I defend my head. Words, slapping around my ears, doing little damage until you throw a solid jab into my...

Frank leaned over, opening the drawer, pulling out a small photo album. With sorrow filling his eyes, the moment suddenly slowing to a standstill, he places a hand onto the album and smiles through the sadness. Looking away from the photos, smile vanishing as quickly as it arrived, he handed the leather encased collection over to me and started his story.

They’d met, 42 years previously, in a busy market. He couldn't actually understand, or even recall, when he’d even visited the market on that precise day but, nevertheless, he was thankful for being there. Walking slowly, not really interested in all of the various items, ranging from old compact discs, to VHS tapes, he wasn't really that interested.

As he approached the exit he heard a commotion behind him and, looking behind, he caught sight of a woman complaining about a purchase with her back to him. In those days he was a big chap, bulky, as he worked out and, being honest, he didn’t really bother with hair gel so it seemed to just stick out a bit. It made him look tough, or stupid, but he didn’t mind either one really as he knew who he was at heart. He turned, walked over, to stand behind the woman. He glared at the guy who, catching Frank’s eye, quickly and quietly exchanged the item.

Tuesday, 12 December 2017


Licking his lips, just after exhaling the cigar smoke, he placed a finger ever so slightly above his head for what appeared to be less than a second. Watching the smoke move through the air, he held the dice between his fingers, quickly capturing the numbers and their position. The numbers flew through his mind and he settled on the digits required.

Double deuce, to many, was not the most important number but, right now, it was all he needed. He called it, spoke the numbers and there was no going back. The noise, within the area, settled to a calm buzz and as he threw the dice at a specific angle, while leaning towards his son, he whispered, “You see son, it’s all about the specifics in this life.”

The dice flew, almost reaching slow motion to the people gathered around the table. With the brief second, which is all it took before the dice started to bounce across the surface, he blinked and rested his hands onto the edge of the table. A sudden calm feeling reached his mind, a resting feeling, almost the same as a running water tap being turned off. Two bounces, maybe four, are all that the gatherers witnessed before they all focused on the dice.

The uproar nearly filled the entire place. The dice, exclaiming their number in virtual silence, screamed the double two that he’d predicted. He’d smile, maybe even dance a little dance, but any further attention, at this point, would not be warranted or required.  “Shall I add the winnings to your account Sir?” the host asked, to which a nodding head replied.

A small smile broke free, from his cast iron resolve, as he stepped away from the table taking his Son with him. “How do you keep on doing this, time after time?” his Son asked, realising that he’d never actually heard the solution the previous ten times he’d asked. As they reached the doorway, with a brief look behind him, they stepped out into the street. He realised, now that his Son had reached the age of understanding, that maybe it was time to explain everything.

Looking into his Son’s eyes, while slowly walking, he started to explain, “Maybe it is time. I know that you think that I’ve been cheating all…”
“I don’t Dad, not at all,” his Son interrupted, “Sorry, carry on!”
He could literally feel his Son’s interest escape from every single pour of his being, which was a good thing but, hopefully, he also had the resolve to see things through. Life wasn't easy, often cruel, but even worse than that is a mind going to waste. “What you see, is the dice fly through the air, coming to rest and the correct number appearing. What you don’t see, are the angles, the air within the room, the people around the table, the weight of the table, all of the opportunities to gather as much information on how the dice will land. You, as well as I, have a brain that can compute any number of outcomes. We've been to the Moon, we've split the Atom, so surely, honestly, you, or I, can gather information to ensure that the dice land exactly as they’re called?”

His Son, stopping in near disbelief, looked slightly confused as he tried to work through what was just said, “You, literally, figure out the amount of dice bounce, from just standing there?”
“It’s as simply as that. How hard will I throw the dice, with different surfaces presenting a different outcome. We've a veritable calculator up here Son,” pointing to his head, “which is left to rot. Filled with such rubbish that rests with us until the day we die.”

A great, big, silly smile appeared across his Son’s face finally, after all this time, realising that it wasn’t magic, or cheating, but actual talent. It moved him. “Can you show me?” he asked.
“Starting tomorrow, I will. But,” his Son’s smile slightly fell in fear of what was to be said next, “when you’ve analysed, figured everything out to a precise fashion, there’s the most important aspect that bonds it all together. Through failure, trying again and again, we realise that pure intelligence, or even just using what we have, is not enough without the heart. The heart forms and completes everything. Without that heart you cannot read the room, feel the room, know when to quit or to carry on. It’ll keep you going when your mind lets you down. When the world lets you down!”

Nearing the subway, he realised that there was a lot to learn, with many months ahead of them both, but he also knew that the mind could be used for so many other tasks. He’d decided on throwing a dice after his day job, but what would his Son truly become. No matter what he knew, what he said, he still couldn’t see the actual future. Sure, he rolled the dice, made his bets, judged the odds and won, but this wasn’t about his life. He turned to his Son, looking straight into his eyes while calmly asking, “Are you ready to roll the dice on life Son?”  His Son nodded, smiled, smirked a little, knowing that the future was about to get much more interesting. Besides, no matter what happened next, he knew that a mind was a terrible thing to throw away. It was, as his Father said, time to role the dice on life. Now or never, his numbers had arrived and he was going to embrace this path with vigour.


How are you going to roll the dice today?

Wednesday, 6 December 2017


The music flowed through the air, soothing, sending calm vibrations into the dimly lit room. He knew, he literally tasted the music in the air, and felt its embrace as he walked across the room to the decanter.  Lifting a Glencairn glass he poured the exquisite Macallan whiskey and, as the aroma rose into the air, he savoured the experience and sipped. Slowly, tasting, feeling and ensuring that the pleasure reached his inquisitive mind.

Satisfied, aware that there were other pleasures in this lavish room, he placed the glass back onto the magnificent wooden cabinet and walked across to the Plume Blanche sofa. Running his fingertips across the soft fabric, which, above all things, featured a diamond encrusted setting, he smiled. With closed eyes, he let it fill his senses. He started to laugh while whispering ‘Magnifique’, to himself.

He was born, all those years previous, with a sense above others, a knowing, an innate longing. It started, slowly at first, like a flame wishing to roar, threatening to whisper words of desire and need. He’d sensed it, even talked about it at an early age, wishing and wondering about what he was experiencing. Knowledge, after all, could be a pleasurable endeavour. What you know, how you think, could design your life into a perfect state of order or, even, complete chaos if decided upon.

Opening his eyes, feeling his mind move from place to place, taking in the scene with unprecedented speed, he knew exactly what he liked and ensured that he would have it. Everything. No matter the cost, would be experienced. As a child, on the first day that he’d held silk, he knew that he had to experience everything life had to offer. He never struggled, as he knew his vices, his requirements of life, which meant study and placing himself in the right place, at the right time.

Money, that one thing that many desire, became such an easy commodity to acquire. It bored him, it held little value, as there was always an endless stream to be made. It never stopped, the pursuit of wealth, to which he decided to leave to a selection of others. He held a watchful eye but, after figure x, or even y, it held little worth.

He recalled the first time that he was truly upset, the first real time that he’d experienced real mental pain in his young life. His pet, the family dog, had passed away after living such a good life. He’d seen to this as it was his duty to ensure happiness for others. It hurt all the way to his very core, his beliefs, but this was life. After this moment, that one instance, he protected himself. Happiness, to him, had to stay stable. It was an absolute necessity. Pleasure, on the other hand, was the most important fact within his thinking.

Be it food, the finest wine, the lavish clothes or the latest accessory, he would experience it all. Maybe he was lacking something, some crazy chemical in his mind, or maybe he was far more attuned to touch and the aura of things. He needed to feel, to envelop his life with all good things. He’d worked damn hard, exhaustingly hard, which many simply did not see, so he deserved what was in front of him.

Looking back to the Whiskey, leaving the sofa to sit in its place, while touching the fabric on his Alexander Amosu Vanquish suit sleeve, he looked at his Audemars Piguet Royal Oak watch. It was nearly time. The greatest experience, he’d ever experienced, above the fast cars, the luxury apartments, the visits to the most aural locations in this world, was about to arrive. He’d always held his guard, for many, many years, as he didn't want to fully embrace his desire to feel with another, to touch, until a year ago. He knew that he had a weakness, a method to his inner madness, which he’d felt while taking a lover, or two, maybe even three, if he felt like it, but on that one very solace filled moment, he let his eyes become his soul, his wiring cross, his pleasure capacity finally letting go and falling.

The greatest pleasure, the most intense experience he’d ever had, ever felt, ever desired, was, above all, you.

Monday, 4 December 2017

Influx - Intro

At first you wonder what’s going on, standing there, living within the utter silence, with everything and everyone static for 12 minutes. At first you just stop, looking in disbelief, then, after the second time it happens, that disbelief starts to turn into whatever you like.

It started six months ago, while walking through the streets of this great big metropolis, minding my own business when everything around me, literally, stopped. Cars, buses, dogs, cats, even pigeons, everything and everyone just froze. I recall eating popcorn, when it first happened, as I watched a couple of them fall only to stop a few inches away from the floor. It took me awhile to realise but I might just be the only person that this doesn't happen to.

After the fear fell away, descending into playful mischief, I’d started to re-arrange scenes but that was before someone died due to my meddling. Life has a force, a speed, which cannot be stopped. Or so I believed. Wind up a toy car, set it in place, then let go to see a great big thrust of life speed things back into action. Each change that I made had consequences, so after that death, I decided not to change anything unless it seemed reasonable.

In each of the 12 minutes I’d managed to gather as much money as possible, any possessions I liked, leading to life becoming a little bit stale. Imagine having the opportunity to own whatever you liked. Sure, it was stealing, but in the great scheme of things, the way things worked, we were all being short changed anyway. Anything and everything, for those 12 minutes within a day, were available and readily within reach.

Once, on my daily travels, I actually decided to stop a bank robbery. It was easy. Just wait, then on the dot, as the time approached, I’d just nip in and remove all of the weapons and drag each of them outside. Quite a bit of work depending on the size of the person but it was fun seeing their faces once the time elapsed.

12 minutes. Madness. Fun. Sometimes exciting, often strikingly cold and empty, but it carried on happening day after day. I recall visiting my family, the ‘olds’ as they liked to refer to themselves. They were still so young but, once the time arrived, I’d sit there just looking at them, burning their image into my mind as I knew that, one day, they’d leave this place. 12 whole minutes of calm and remembrance. Anything they wanted, they had, without question, but with limits. Although 12 minutes wasn't the longest time, I made sure that each item wouldn't be missed. It was one thing to be able to do whatever I liked but, eventually, someone, somewhere, might just notice.

I’d listen, wait, and then travel to a location where crime ran free. They wouldn't miss their cash, or guns, and they wouldn't come looking that far in fear of questions. They usually turned on each other but that was away from any conscience I had.

I realised, after a while, that if I walked up to an item, once everything stood still, I could usually get it to continue. It took concentration and effort, but eventually I’d get there. I knew, however, not to drive a car until after the time elapsed. That could get tricky smashing straight into a stopped car.

Everything became normal, very normal, as with many things in life. I’d see devastation in some of the buildings I’d visit, looked into the eyes of stone vapid killers, then take every single scrap of cash they’d taken from others. I’d leave gifts for people that didn't seem to have much in life, but with many things it was the individual day that decided what I’d do.

Many would think that I'm being calm but, you would be to, because losing my mind just wouldn't work with the situation I'm in. I want to stay alive, I need to keep on living and although I'm on my own in all of this, I’d going to find help on this very day. There’s a couple of people that I think can help so the time is now. After all, although I've come to terms with things, although I know that this may never stop, I'm okay with the way things are, or were, until the day that I saw them everywhere. Then, as the 12 minutes arrived, they moved.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017


Flicking the light switch, up, then down, then repeating a few times in a vain effort to change the known, a smile appears on my face and I look down the long corridor. Serene, at peace, a long solemn but never forgotten building. I’d lived here, as a child, until I thought that I was ready to face the world, the great supposed known. I knew little back then, probably still don’t know enough, but if I could I’d have probably stayed a little bit longer.

I was eager, alive, full of energy, just like the walls in front of me and probably as tough.  They most certainly no longer make houses like this. Running my fingers across the wall, as I slowly walk forward, I close my eyes a little, remembering the daily buzz. Playing with toys, from one end to the other, trying not to trip anyone as they went. My Father, as with many Fathers, wasn't here that much or, if he were, silence was the spoken tongue until he left again. Mother, as usual, stayed to turn us into the adults we were destined to be. She tried her best, being as magical as she was, always remaining someone to cherish, to look up to, but like many things in this world… there is a time.

A momentary second of sadness floods my mind. I know that I'm never alone but, no matter who I'm with, there will always be that space. This building, with its mood filled light emanating through the window at the end of this hallway, would always stay within a small little secret place within my mind. Memories, mostly good, always a smiling event, bring with them a longing to return to such easier days. I know that it won’t happen, it’s far too late for that, but I can at least revisit one, last, little, time.

It’s odd to think, to realise, that no matter how many oceans you travel, no matter the names you write across your lips, you still return to those special places and moments. As children we might eventually let go of the comfort blankets, the teddies of safety, but there will always be moments that hold and comfort. I know that I don’t need such things, as I'm supposed to be strong, a statue, never failing to protect the ones I love, but there will always, always, be cracks just below that surface of valour. I do, after all, harbour broken souvenirs that no-one will ever take from me.

I remember stamping my foot, in defiance, in this very doorway all those years previous. My Mother, being the way she was, didn't shout and simply waited for me to calm myself. Shouting didn't work, as we were kids, my Sister and I, but what did work was common sense. Mother would eventually sit me, while I was still in a mood, then calmly explain the circumstances.  On this occasion, she said something that has stayed with me right until this very day and that little slice of advice was the following, “The longer you spend in a mood, the longer you waste time that could be used playing. There’s a reason why Mother says no and, if you’d just accept that, your life would be a lot easier”. I reflected for a long time, sat there, using this silly brain of mine, to reach a conclusion that was obviously obvious. Mother knew best. Always had. Always did. Always will.

This house, right now, was reaching the end of its life, with a new dawn arriving, looking for a friend that was no longer there. Time moves on, always, which means the old is eventually, in many cases, replaced with the new. It’s a progression, it’s life, it’s the cycle we’re stuck within and, even when this house and home is torn down I’ll still drive past and remember. This place, right here, held my heart within my Mother’s hands. It’s part of me. We all have places that are part of us.

As I reach the end of the corridor, I glance back down the hallway, for the very last time. Nodding ever so slightly I remind myself to never forget, to never let time fade my memories and moments. This place has felt my tears, had my blood touch its surface in one of those grandiose childish falls, heard me shout and held me so close. “Goodbye”, I said under my breath.

For everything, there is a time.

Thursday, 16 November 2017


Walking into the room, the heavy door closing slowly behind me, I cast my eyes quickly across the surroundings and people. I know that I'm not your favourite person, right now, but I know what I'm here for and, if it’s something that I'm very good at, it’s apologies. The thing with apologies is that you only have to do one, simple, easy, little thing and that’s to frankly mean the words that escape from your mouth. Three simple little words. I’d chuckle a little, even smile, but I have to remain in the mood, keep the composure constant, as I wouldn't want to portray anything other than the solace I'm bringing with me.

I brush my shoulders, just in case, ensuring the spick and span etiquette be kept along with that mood I’d just mentioned. Reaching the bar, not too fast, not too slow, walking with defined confidence I make an order which receives a polite nod from the chap behind the bar. Something sensible, not too strong, as I can save that type of luxury for later. A type of credence is required, for the moment, with restraint being kept in control.

Turning, ever so slightly, I'm aware that you’re here. That’s unavoidable. I can feel you before I even enter a room. Maybe that’s why we’re so good together. Maybe that’s why it hurts when I know that I've done something wrong. I'm usually not the type to actually say a bad word, a moment out of time, or a lax interjection, but I'm human and the pretence of perfection is a hard thing to maintain. I'm not perfect, I'm far from an ideal dream filler, but I do try. You know that I try.

Demons entering my mind, as I take a small sip of my chosen sustenance, I make a move and in that second I can feel my heart start to taint my thoughts. That little trip, the cacophony of beats reaching into my ears trying to destroy that ever so controlled composure mentioned before. It will not have its way. It will not control me. Adrenaline be damned, be it controlled, or ruin what I'm intending to do and say.

The room suddenly feels very, very small. The view from my eyes seems to be closing in as I approach. It’s haunting, it’s an embarrassingly embracing feeling to know that I care so much for a person that my own body betrays my mind. Breathing, starting to shallow, before I admonish myself for letting my emotions over ride my thoughts. Again and again, I remind myself that I'm only here for one reason, for one person, which means that my own self-preservation can, for now, be pushed to the side.

As control returns I gather myself and look ahead, straight towards you. Eyes lock, small smiles appear, but I can see that you've been caused pain. It’s written across those eyes of yours whereas, being honest, I should only ever write my name across those lips. I've missed you, so damned much. If I'm not kissing you, then I'm failing with life. It’s a command, it’s my very reason, to love and hold you. It’s not a difficult task, it’s hardly moving a mountain, but it’s what I would and should do anyway. I'm supposedly a man and, to me, that’s what men should do.

My mind wants to race, it even wants to hide, but it’s too late as I'm here, you’re there in front of me, so now is the moment and this is where I do what I'm supposed to do. The smile doesn't hide your feelings but it does betray that you've missed me and, of course, I've missed you. Life simply isn't the same without you. It’s empty. Expressionless. Void of many reasons. I've already spoken the most important three words that a person can share with another, with each other, those ‘I love you’ moments, but now I'm here to simply say the second most important words,

 “I'm very sorry”.

Friday, 10 November 2017


Let me tell you a quick story, about how I used to be. I was a bad little f**ker back when I was a kid and it was only going to get worse! You see, being honest with you, I had already done a lot of crazy sh*t, hurtful stuff, but that’s what you get when you've been dragged from place to place, home to home, not quite knowing where and how things would happen.

It all changed, one day, just after my mother cried for the second time. I don’t know which day as I didn't care about that stuff back then. Wednesday, Monday, all the same when you’re a kid waiting for something to happen. I’d just been expelled from another School, something about smacking a kid in the face until his lip burst, as well as smashing a window, but that’s neither here or there. We did stuff back then.

You see, I’d smashed the sh*t out of my Piggy bank, filling my hands with whatever I could find, as well as my secret pennies taken from the burst lip kid, as I wanted to get my Mum something to eat. We’d hit hard times, as usual, with another dead beat guy using my Mum for the usual stuff, making all of the promises in the world, delivering none, then taking another dream away. It was real. A wake up call for a kid like me.

I made my way to the shop. Sure, I could have bought some sh*t, chocolate, or filled myself with sugar, but I just wanted to buy my Mum something. That was all. I’d seen her cry far too many times as she just wanted a break, something real to hang onto, so there I was, a sh*t of a kid, barely passing an adults knees in height, off to the shop on my own.

I got there, as it wasn’t far, looking at the prices while being watched as usual. Yeah, okay, I’d stolen a f**k load of stuff but I wanted to do better. This was my present to my Mum. Maybe I was already starting to realise the sh*t I’d done. Maybe. Don’t know. Anyway I looked at the damn Pot Noodles. Bloody Pot Noodle. Two for one, or some sh*t, with me barely being able to count. Pays to listen in School you know.  Anyway the guy walks over, not happy with me being there, muttering something about being two for three quid. Yeah… I didn’t have enough and he just wanted me out of there.

So, there I am, in some f**king shop, crap all over my face, looking like a train had hit me, standing there looking confused as  the store guy goes on and on obviously wanting me to leave. A guy comes over, some stranger, saying in a calm voice, “I’ll get them for you!”  He reaches up and grabs two Pot Noodles, taking them over to the till. I didn’t know what to do. It’s new to me. I walk across, looking up, to announce, “I have money for them!”

The guy looks down, quickly, “I know you do but it’s okay.” Just like that, one moment of damn kindness confused me. Mum always said to never speak to any strangers and, looking at it from where I am today, the guy wouldn’t look at me so I didn’t have to talk to him anyway. He had a calm voice, kind, obviously, then when finished he handed them to me and before I could say anything else he walked out of the shop. I stood there wondering what had just happened and then, slowly, walked out of the store. The store keeper kept an eye on me the entire way. F**ker.

By the time I’d walked outside he was in his car, starting to drive away and, I kid you not, I put my arm into the air and gave him the biggest thumbs-up I’d ever given in my life and, for a second, a smile appeared across my face. F**k me. Someone being kind. Baffled me. When you’re a little, nasty, nasty f**ker you do give off that kind of appearance that people ignore.

I ran home, burst through the door, handing my Mum the Pot Noodles. She looked at me, with a daft expression on her face, before small tears appeared in her eyes. I know, I know, I was a damn kid, but that melted something in my head, maybe even heart if I had one, but it changed something for me. Some random person being kind, not a twisted f**ker, with nothing to gain, just being kind and, seeing my Mother cry, made me think about my actions moving forward. Yeah, I was still an evil sh*t but I was still kind. I was just evil to people that deserved it, not just everyone. Look at me now, with my own kids and wife, doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Providing, being there, helping. Being kind.

All because of Pot f**king Noodles.


Could be a true story. Maybe. Somewhere.


Monday, 23 October 2017


Sitting here, realising what I've done, remorseful, brandishing my shame like a type of child’s blanket, I look around the room. Comforting, warm, with the ever growing feeling that, one day, I’ll have to let go and face the life in front of me. I'm not scared, hardly a coward, but moments like this are few and far between so I'm at a loss as to how I'm supposed to proceed.

Logically, methodically, the answer stares me in the eyes. Right there, just in front of my face, resilient, barking the truth at the top of a voice but, as usual, it’s not just about logical fact. There’s always feelings. Feelings that pick, damage, devalue and berate a person. Usually I don’t like to mix the two as they can confuse. One says yes while the other, often, states no. They say that you’re supposed to go with your gut but, when you’re honest, if ever, you know that ‘that’ view usually leads to trouble.

We’re all born beautiful, kicking or screaming, a near blank slate, but fate and fact have led to this very second. I'm not perfect, never will be, which is a design of life and society, but I can at least try. From across the room I can feel the heat, from the roaring fire, flow across my face and hands. It’s a special heat, not fabricated like many modern houses, despite the fact that it could destroy all I see, it still holds a place in my heart from when I was a young boy. That’s the type of heat that I want, that I need, from the people in my life. Real warmth, a real feeling, despite many of us being surrounded by fabricated and veiled lives.

We sit at home, alone or with others, yet feel the deepest loneliness that can hardly ever be shared. There’s moments, those seconds, while alone, where it manages to escape into the void of your life. You feel it, within those seconds, then quickly console yourself, maybe even brandish harsh words against your view, before conducting your composure to reach a valid smile that could fool but the most vicious truth seeker.

I'm stuck, here, right now, right in front of you. I find you exhilarating, I need you to be exciting, spontaneous, to take that fire from this room and to instil the feeling within my soul. I'm flickering, I'm but an ember of whom I used to be, but I'm never, ever, going to exclaim this to anyone but myself.

I'm not allowed, not permitted to do such a thing. We’d all like to reach out, at certain times, in order to seek help, but surrounded by souls working away at their own square of life, it’s selfish to expect a knight to move for a rook. Forgive me, I've slipped into a game of sorts while knowing, obviously, that life is not a game.

Maybe it is, maybe it’s just the way of things. I'm going to let go of the blanket, I'm pushing away the supports I've built around myself and, right this second, I'm going to step forward and do what I need to do. Time is precious and, more than anything, it must be lived. I'm stepping forward, to tell you, that you’re amazing. You’re who I would like to give me warmth. But that, when I reach the end of the words, is up to you and every other person we meet today.

Friday, 20 October 2017


I was so young, all those years ago, with the oppression experienced by a child, carefree, without any weight upon my shoulders, albeit believing that I was always hard done by if I couldn't go out at a certain time. I thought that I knew everything, had the world figured out, yet still trying to understand the basics of maths and English.

I was so young, all those days previous, when I started the weekend job, venturing forward into the world, away from the safety of home and parents. It seemed easy, it all happened with such speed, but at that point in life it all moved at a snail’s pace.

I was so young, when I first fell in love, the heart strings finally being placed into the hands of someone else, someone new, with wide eyed feelings and trust. The world seemed to stop, for the shortest time, with each kiss and the thoughts that we shared.

I was so young when my heart broke, for the second time, the third time, while managing to also break someone else’s heart. It was tragic, it was a mess, with emotions spiralling out of control, the world making little sense while staying perfectly, exactly, the same.

I was so young, blaming the world for everything and anything. It was never my fault, it was not quite due to my beliefs or actions, with situations and stagnation settling. The repeating ways of the world ensuring that I, once again, managed to end up in the exact same place.

I was so young, when the world decided to apply pressure, with a mortgage and things to maintain. It seemed like fun, it seemed like the right thing to do, the same as everyone else, yet I had started to let go of the real safety net of home, parents, as well as the ease at which I previously lived. Life was happening and moving faster.

I was so young when I finally realised, on that amazing day, that I was to blame for all of my problems. I could no longer point the finger at other people, other loves or similar relationships. It was all me, the circular situations, that had taken many, many years to finally become reality within my heart and mind.

I was so young when I resolved issues of the past, a momentary reprieve and reset of the actions and circumstances of my younger youth. It was glorious, it was mind changing, plus also a tomb where being self sufficient belonged to my present and future.

I was so young when the biggest part of my life left this world, which nothing could prepare me for, no rhymes, no prayers, no sacrifices or situations. I was powerless, vacant, lost and for the shortest time, completely alone in the world. No matter how hard you hold onto a hand it will eventually, one day, let go.

I was so young when I realised that my friends, along with the people that broke my heart, with the people’s hearts I broke, plus the family in my life, formed who I am. They are special, they are my memories, my current space, as well as my past and hopefully future.  I have no enemies but a few friends.

I was so young when I realised that I would never truly, completely, understand life. I understood that there were questions that I’d never have answered, not even possibly upon leaving this place. I knew that if I could return to when I was young, to an earlier moment, I’d impart wisdom, I’d prepare myself, but I would still be too young to appreciate the words no matter the age.

I was so young when I knew that this is it, the experience, the crazy ride that we call life. We have to live every second, love every minute, hold onto the special people and be good to all others. We’re here together, with all ages alongside us, breathing the same air and speaking the same thoughts.

I was so young when I finally, on that last day, knew that it was my time. I’d loved many people, I’d left a few, had a few leave me, worked in many places, seen far off places, but still managed to reach the end of this paradox. I've always been young. I've always been that child that arrived into this world many years previous, but I never, ever, let all of the experiences take away that youth. Hold it. 

Embrace it.

I was so young… .

Friday, 6 October 2017


With a thunderous rapture, a cacophony of events smashing the brief second of silence, the brush moved with ease and effort. The canvas, A3 in size, is held tightly to the ground from a stand built to last, painting in whatever circumstances life decides to throw my way. With each movement, each moment of purpose, the picture forms and speaks to me.

I'm alone, on this mountain called life, viewing the valley ahead of me, being brave, fearless, vehement emotions beaming from every single slice of my skin. I'm here, right now, surrounded by the very nature that breathed life into my veins all those years previous. Nature, all around, feeding me, believing in me, wishing me to be all that I can or should be. The canvas, an expression of my mind’s eye, a place to create, to express, to clear my mind of the daily folly.

The rain starts to pour, covering the land all around me, washing away the weight of the world. Many words could have been spoken, in vain, in anger, but now all that can be heard is the ear splitting sound of said rain. Washing away everything, cleansing my soul, flattening the electric tension from the world.  I'm trying to feel free, apart, separate from the daily toll and toil of life. I'm here.

The rain kept on thundering to the ground, but with each stroke, with each deciding line, a splash here, a moment there, I'm creating the forward view onto this canvas of mine. I'm in control, I'm aware of what I'm creating, no matter how many clouds or moments, it’s my story, it’s my picture drawn in my own special, eloquent and specific way.

I don’t care about the rain, I'm ignoring the spurious thunder, I'm ignorant to the cold forming over my shoulders, as this moment is all mine. Stepping back, just a step, I can see the colours, merging, being formed from the rain adding their own take on my creation. It doesn't matter, it’s hardly a sin, as outside forces often try to reform whatever you wish to take place. It’s a liveable circumstance, it’s how I expect things to be, but that picture, it’s still there, alive, part of me, no matter how it’s changed or maligned by life.

I close my eyes, imagining my picture, the lines, the expressions, painting my heart out, while taking in the ambiance all around me. It’s the moment, it’s right now, it’s how I envision the finished picture whilst also knowing that it might not quite be what I wanted. It’s okay, it’s fine, as life is creation. Life’s a revolution of time, set to come back again and again. Maybe I’ll repeat this moment, next week, with completely different emotions, moments, but that’s what life’s about. Experiencing, expressions, trying the unknown whilst chancing and changing the known.

Another splash of rain, another stroke from the brush, the seconds ticking as the clouds allow a peak towards the sunshine. The thunder is over, the rain is at a stand still, with a new moment waiting behind the wailing. I've painted my heart out, I've done what I came here to do, to experience. I'm awake, I'm open eyed, despite the clouds, the rain and thunderous shouting.

Maybe I'm the canvas, maybe my words are the paint, forming, creating, showing each of you what I, we, you, could be. Maybe we’re the brush, taking control of our destined picture. We’re capable, all acceptable to each other, within the limits of our own sized canvas of life. Maybe we’re the view ahead, controlled by a higher power that holds the very brush that creates our lives or, just maybe, we’re none of the above. Maybe we need not be defined. Maybe we’re an abstract creation.

Either way, no matter the picture, no matter how smudged we become, no matter how the conclusive picture reveals itself, at least we tried. It’s complete, the journey for today, the task of the moment and, above all, I have something to show for the very seconds spent on this journey. I know that I'm alive, I know that I can even place myself into the picture.

The whole world is your canvas, no matter the weather or location, all you need to do is close your eyes and… paint.