Despairing

It’s difficult to put into words why I feel so dejected and hopeless lately. It’s really not like me, I usually cope with the shit life sometimes throws up. I don’t usually let things effect me. I never look for sympathy, at least I don’t think I do, so I’m not writing this for sympathy.

I normally have a smile for everyone, even when I’m sad inside I still smile and get on with things.

I remember when I had just left school I broke out in teenage acne. That really depressed me and my older brother (6 years older) relentlessly teased me to the point that I locked myself in my room for a month, only coming out to use the toilet and collect a plate of food. I felt very sorry for myself and I remember being ashamed of the way I looked and even more ashamed of the amount of self pity I was wallowing in.

Right now, I feel the same way, not because of acne or anything like that, but I recognise the same feeling of hopelessness, and I have no idea why.

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I Have No Clue

I haven’t posted for a while. I’m not sure why. It’s difficult to say to all the people I know In person but I need to say it. I’m crying inside, I never show it to anyone I know, all they see is a happy, smiling man who apparently, lives life the way they want to live their life. Happy, carefree. But, my smile hides sadness, I’m crying inside without shedding any tears.

Ipsy-Daisy

In vague relation to my last post about uncontrollable gastronomic flatulence, (No shitting on the toilet) this is about my purely accidental incidents of toilet, bathroom and bedroom encounters that I have been a perpetrator and victim of!

Living in a house with 6 people when the children all lived at home was a recipe for disaster as far as the toilet and bathroom were concerned. I was and I suppose I still am a little absent minded about knocking on doors before I enter, not because I’m ignorant or arrogant or even perverted but because sometimes I just don’t think to knock!! I was forever walking into the bathroom when someone was already sat on the throne, their faces flushed with pushing or taking a shower, only coming to my senses when the occupier shouted “Oi, I’m in here” or “Outtttt”. Luckily, we always saw the funny side and laughed about it.

Weirdly, I unfortunately witnessed how big they were all getting and how fast they were all growing up through witnessing the continual growth of their backsides!

As they all moved into their teenage years they had girlfriends and boyfriends, some of whom would come to the house to eat, drink, chat, laugh and occasionally stay over. Two unforgettable and regrettable incidents are seared into my memory.

Episode one involved my youngest sons girlfriend. I had just stepped out of the shower and had towelled myself dry, dropping the towel to the floor when the bathroom door opened. Matt’s girlfriend (Can’t remember her name) got a full view of a mature man in his birthday suit. In a split second her gaze travelled down to my nether regions and for some obscure reason I instinctively placed one hand over my appendage and strangely, one hand over one, yes, just one of my nipples! I remember saying very calmly and very bleeding obviously “I’m in here”. Red faced, she closed the door very carefully without a word and we never spoke about it, avoiding eye contact at all costs!! I mentioned the incident to Matt and the wife after his girlfriend had left the house and we laughed for quite a long time.

Episode two, involved my eldest son and his girlfriend. My eldest son Nick, always spent most of his time in his bedroom so it followed that when he brought his girlfriend back to the house, they would spend most of their time in his bedroom during the day. On this particular occasion, I was making myself a cup of tea. I could hear his music blasting out upstairs so went up and without thinking I walked straight into his room to be met with the sight of his bare arse and his girlfriend scrambling around trying to cover herself up! I quickly closed the door and asked “Would you like a cup of tea”? Nick called out “No thanks “ as I heard her giggling nervously. I don’t believe I saw her again after that because they parted company not long after.

I guess It was funny in a bumbling sort of way and since then I’ve learnt to knock and talk from the other side of the door.

Even now, I still occasionally forget to knock on the bathroom door before entering but I’m getting better at remembering someone might be in there. So the moral of this tale is, never invite me around to your house without knowing the dangers it entails!

No Shitting On The Toilet!!

This is probably not the best subject to talk about but as I’ve grown older my sensory buttons seem to have gone AWOL, leaving me in a constant state of ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but what the hell’.

My toiletry habits are, even though I say so myself, legendary amongst family and friends! (Sorry family and friends) When I say toiletry habits I mean the expulsion of extremely noxious flatulence.

I feel confident that if I had lived during WW2, a certain Totalitarian leader would have made full use of my ‘Talent’! (Sorry, no offence intended)

Ever since I was a boy my natural aptitude for imitating Skunks has never let me down (Unfortunately) One of the first instances of receiving a telling off from my mum was when I uncontrollably erupted during a visit from the local priest. Remarkably, he kept his cup of tea in his stomach but my mums embarrassment and look of intense fury told me I was ‘In for it’ when he left the building!!

Thinking about it, maybe that’s why dad wasn’t around much, his stomach couldn’t handle the morbid stench any longer! I recall when I worked in the factory at Auto-windscreens that one of my subtle leaks would often receive spontaneous looks of revulsion and occasionally a round of applause from one particular work colleague!

Another one of my work colleagues was unfortunate enough to work opposite me for a couple of years. His naturally high octave voice always went up a couple of notches when the aroma attacked his Italian nostrils, which made me laugh so much that another squeaky one would follow, causing mayhem. My very first ‘Girlfriend ‘ didn’t last long. I was only 8 or 9 (Can’t remember) but she ran from me after about 2 or 3 hours. (Who can blame her) Thankfully my talent has dissipated over the years, but not gone altogether. My best friend became very upset a few weeks ago whilst we were playing a game around a table in his house. He asked me to “STOP IT” several times 😂 but nature had different ideas so his reaction and my inability to stop forced me to leave the game and the house, leaving me to fart and curse all the way home.

In fact, one day last week (19th March) was my birthday and we all went out to celebrate. Unfortunately, my uncontrollable flatulence celebrated as well! We were all enjoying a last drink in a pub when it ‘Released ‘ itself. I heard a complete stranger, who was stood at the bar about 20 feet away, turn to his mate and bark “Have you farted?” I couldn’t help but laugh silently but I think I was the only one laughing!!

So, there you have it, you know my secret! For some reason, I’m not self conscious about it, but I have learnt to walk very quickly when one escapes!

Chopper

My childhood came to a crescendo the Christmas my mum bought me a brand spanking new Chopper. All of my mates had a chopper bike long before I did. I would watch them changing gears with the stick fashionably positioned on the bar beneath the swanky laid back seat. It looked so cool as they flashed by me in a red blur. Occasionally, I’d get a ride when they felt generous but I desperately wanted one of my own.

I think my mum bought a Chopper from Littlewood’s catalogue and struggled to pay for it but I loved it and loved her for buying it for me.

It was a gleaming racing red and I made sure it stayed that way, cleaning and polishing the frame and wheels after every use. I learnt how to keep my balance without holding the handle bars and how to stand on the seat crouched down whilst going downhill. (I polished the seat afterwards)

But it all came to a resounding crash one afternoon, and it was all my fault! I flew down the road, smoothly changing gears and became overconfident as I decided to turn the corner by leaning over to far. I came off on the corner and landed on my stomach, my hands taking the brunt of the impact. I went down with a loud thud and laid there for a moment, my ribs hurting. Directly behind was my mate Mark on his Chopper who didn’t have time to stop and he ran straight over my back in what turned out to be an almost perfect line with my spine! When I picked myself up off the pavement, Mark said to “You’re bleeding on your back “! I took my t-shirt off and there was a perfect tyre track the length of my spine, with blood seeping from the deeper indentations. As it started to burn, my mum (Inconveniently) came around the corner with a shopping bag and got a full on view of the wound. She ordered me straight into the house and I reluctantly followed, steering my Chopper in front of me.

She cleaned me up, accompanied by a full CSI grilling, after which I was ‘Grounded ‘ for the rest of the day, my bike temporarily retired until I could be trusted to ride it sensibly!

After a few long, long days I was allowed to ride it again.

I rode it constantly as part of the convoy of Choppers for months and months until we all got into football as our main pastime. The retirement of my beloved Chopper became almost permanent, apart from riding it to the shop and the football field.

For the life of me I can’t remember what happened to my Chopper.

Fast forward to a couple of years ago and we were having a meander around a Sunday morning car boot sale and my eyes were drawn to a beaten-up red chopper. It was partly rusted, the wheels and bodywork had definitely seen better days, but clearly marked in black and yellow was the name ‘Chopper’ across the middle bar. For a split second I was a boy again, riding it for the first time with a smile that complimented the red paintwork, as proud as a dog with two tails.

I walked on without a closer inspection because I knew I would have been tempted to buy a piece of a childhood I could never get back. But it was nice to see a Chopper again. I hope someone bought it and lovingly restored it to its place as King of bikes.

Here’s Where I Am

Well, after 15 years of not going to a gym I stepped back through the doors yesterday (Saturday) A few of those 15 years of inactivity have been through illness and recoveries from operations. However, I made the decision to do something about my terrible levels of fitness. Yesterday I was only able to manage a paltry 15 minutes of exercise before I ran out of steam. This morning I’m starting to ache but the good thing is, I remember this feeling and I feel slightly better about myself.

Hopefully I will continue as long as I stay focused and determined.

Here’s to gym life 🍻 I hope !!