If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands

The other day, I asked Cuddle Bear, my 2-year-old, what makes her happy.  She responded by singing, ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’, at which point she poked my nose and went ‘honk honk’.

I then asked Baby Bear, our 6-year-old, without hesitation and with only the slightest possibility that he may have blackmailed, he sweetly responded, ‘you, Daddy’.  He then added, playing with Lego, Willow’s puppies, playing with his little sister and playing with his friends.

Finally, I brought the subject up with my 13-year-old, Poppy Bear.  I was told that I was strange and to leave her alone as she wasn’t in the mood.

Than I pondered, what makes me happy?  Well, my kids, they fill me with joy.  Impractical jokers make me chuckle.  Writing makes me feel in tune with myself.  When I’m not at home, but away with my wife and kids and we don’t have the stresses of work, school, bills, family etc I feel most peaceful and connected.

But then I struggle, what else is there?  Surely there must be something that makes me roar with happiness, holding onto my sides in fear of them splitting?  And hang on a moment, hasn’t there been times when I’ve enviously spied another and wished I could be happy like them, without actually knowing what they were happy about, or even if in fact they were happy and not just escaped from a nearby asylum.

So then if I feel the need to be happier, do I actually know what makes me happy?  You scan friends’ profiles of FB or Instagram and see all the things they do that seem too make them happy, but nothing really connects too you.  It’s great that you love to hurl yourself off bridges attached by nothing but knicker elastic, but that’s not for me!  Playing online computer games makes you ecstatic, but I gotta pass!  That you spend every Saturday running, swimming and cycling through mud, rain and snow is really admirable, but, you know what, I can’t find my cycling shorts!  The amount of time you’re put into restoring that classic car and making it gleam so bright it dazzles passing pilots is inspiring, but I’ve just put on the kettle!

I have a vague idea of what makes me happy, I like to cook, I like to eat, I like to read, I like to write etc.  And day to day, I’m pretty happy, some days better than others, paydays, weekends, birthday, holidays seem to be the best.  But I’ve never put much thought into where my happiness comes from, or what it is about cooking for example, that makes me happier than when I’m not cooking!  And as I suspect, from the examples set by my friends, their happiness is linked to a realisation of their values.  So, if you’re unsure of your values, then hey happiness will be difficult to come by.  Feed the value, find the happiness.  Feed me Seymour!

Now, I’m feeling selfish.  As a child, happiness was a selfish concept, I was taught do put the needs and wants of others before my own, my turn would come later I was promised.  To expect otherwise was self-indulgent.  Now maybe you could argue that it’s admirable, respectful or even noble to be so considerate, but taken to the extreme it prohibits any proper development of your own self-worth.

As with values, I was fed a prescribed formula that would lead me too happiness.  Get a good job that pays well, work out and eat, not healthily but restrictively, have a big house and a nice car, have friends, get married and have children.  And take them all with a spoon full of sugar.

And that was going to be my life.

 I got a good job that pays well, and I hate it.  I don’t really work out, but I do eat 😊 I have a house, and have found for me that the size of it, (the house), doesn’t seem to affect my happiness-o’meter.  And I have a car that seems to work more on faith than on principles of the internal combustion engine.  I struggle with friends, I’m not that good at keeping them, I forget to water them, and they wither and die!  I am married and have 3 kids, and don’t panic Mummy Bear, they make me so very happy.

This guaranteed path to happiness for the most part, led to the opposite in most cases.  These beliefs that had been bottle fed too me since birth, that had grown and intertwined with my value system has betrayed me!  These notions may well work for some people, and some of the notions may work for all people, for myself being married and having my little ones is the most important, happiness and proudest choices of my life.  But trying to judge your happiness based on the preconceived ideals of family, friends, and society is resounded and absolutely doomed too lead to unhappiness.  So, lets consign this now too Dusty Bin, and let’s be H.A.P.P.Y about it!

In the beginning there was God, God was bored and sat alone in the dark, so God turned on the lights.  God did a lot of useful stuff, God made the sky, the sea and the land, God even made animals, including bed bugs, even the best of us have bad ideas.  God looked around his creation and thought he’d made some really fun stuff here.  God was jolly proud as so God should be, but something was missing, so God create Man.

Man looked at God, God looked at Man,

 ‘well? What am I meant to do?’ asked Man.

 ‘Go and be happy’, boomed the reply from God.

 ‘Happy?’ spoke Man, ‘What’s that look like then?’

‘Oh Lordy!’ thought God, feeling a slight niggle of regret, ‘Tell you what, if you’re doing something and it feels nice’, Man giggled, interrupting God.  ‘If it feels nice’, God continued, ‘remember it, and do it again!’.

‘That’s it?’ questioned Man, ‘sounds easy enough’.

‘That’s it’, confirmed God, ‘make a list and soon you’ll find happiness!’

As God commanded Man went off and made a list, the sun on his face, wet grass beneath bare feet, live music on warm evenings, his children laughing, his wife’s hand running through his hair, TV or films about Zombies, trying and cooking new food, being silly.  Mans list grew and grew, and each addition brought further joy to his life.

Until, one day Man met another Man.

This Man said, ‘You are a Man, put away childish things!’

The first Man felt ashamed and burnt his list of happy times, and Man was sad.

So, lets make a list again, of all those things that make me smile, of all my favorite things, of raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.  And maybe let’s try to understand why they make me happy!  So something that I enjoy is writing….but why?

Do I love to write because?

a/ It allows me to feel creative without judgement

b/ it allows me to truly feel I can be myself

c/ it allows me to have me time

d/ I get a sense of accomplishment from it

e/ it gives me a sense of independence and control

I could go on, but all these reason feed into my values, which again reinforces that to be happy you need to be true to who you are, and if you don’t know that, you’re going to struggle!  Also, I must assume that if I could find something else that met these values, that who also make me happy.  Things are starting to look up folks.  It’s not necessarily what I do, but that it satisfies my values that’s important. 

We should celebrate what makes us happy, remember constantly and recognize those moments that lighten life.  Cherish these moments and they will always reward you.  Keep a list, keep photos, keep-sakes or mementos, make a play list, print a coffee mug, whatever works, keep it with us always and in those moments when we’re feeling blue, we can revisit these moments and proclaim, ‘this makes me happy’.  I have photos on my phone that I look at to make me smile, to remind myself that in my happiness lies my life, they are mostly of my children, but I have a few that would confuse.  I have a keep-sake in my wallet that does that same.

As a Man, I lost touch with who I was, I lost the child I once was.  I was told often that the things I loved as a child where silly and as an adult I needed to be grown up!  Grown-ups must be serious, a testimony to Misters Darling or Banks at the beginning of the adventures.  Peter Pan or Mary Poppins could have adventures, but in real life, such fantasies were foolish.  Day dreams were discouraged, and dreams were Freudian.

In my last Hurrah, I shout, I yell, I proclaim from the stars as I grasp the hand of the boy that never grows up, lets remember the things we loved as children.  I bet if we tried them again today, we would still love them.  It doesn’t matter if we don’t look cool, it doesn’t matter what our friends may think, it matters that it makes us happy.

Do magic, dress up, roll up hills, play pooh sticks, jump on furniture (maybe when the wife isn’t watching), have a water fight, have a pillow fight, sing at the top of your voice, paint pictures.  Be a child.

Put away childish things but keep the childlike wonder.  Put way childish speech, but never stop asking questions.  Put away childish thoughts, but never stop dreaming, never stop imagining.  Put away childish things, but never stop inspiring to be childlike, and never stop laughing.

if

I’ve been wandering about what my personal values are, the morals that I choose to live my life by. But what are they?  Do I even have any?  Have they got lost down the back of the sofa with the old TV remote and empty crisp packets!  Will I find honesty, beauty, courage alongside a hair encrusted pear drop?

As a child, I remember My Mum telling me, always tell the truth, be nice to my brother, always say please and thank you, and tidy my room.  Stranger ones included always wear new underwear in case you’re in an accident!!!  Of course, as a child, I rarely told the truth, consistently battled my brother, only said please and thank you when I thought it would benefit me, my room was however spotless if you could find it under all the mess, and as for wearing clean underwear, I made a point of not wearing any!

In the Cubs, I would stand, upright and dutiful in front of the Union flag, with my hand raised in salute and recite the Cub Scout Promise.

On my honour, I promise that I will do my best

To do my duty to God and to the Queen,

To help other people

And to keep the Scout Law

What does honour and duty mean to a 7 year old?  They were notions found in the pages of ‘Victory’ and ‘Eagle’ comics or in old black and white war films.  Cary Grant, Victor McLaglen and Douglas Fairbanks standing proudly over the defeated and bloodied Thuggee forces, saluting the death of Gung Din.  And ask me now the Scout law……sorry, didn’t hear you, what was that?

At school, I was told, keep quiet, do my work, don’t be late, eat my greens, keep in mind that I went to school at a time when there was a spot on the wooden frame of the blackboard and a metre length wooden rule kept within arm’s length to ensure that these values were respected.  In case you’re curious, the spot was where the child was required to put their nose so that the backside was at the desired height and angle for a whacking.  I never witnessed anyone being dealt this punishment, but the promise of it alone was enough to ensure law and order in the class room.

Church taught me the Lords Prayer and the 10 commandments, of which I can only remember a handful, don’t lie, don’t covet, don’t murder, don’t swear, don’t work on the Sabbath, don’t worship false idols, honour parents…that’s not bad, I’m sure if I took a bit more time I’d get them all.  Which speaks more of my memory rather than my obedience to them, I can say that I remain faithful to only one.  But then, I didn’t make a choice to live my life by these commandments so does that make them null and void anyway?

And that’s the point, these values were instilled upon me in my youth.  These were the values of my elders, of society and when I left home, the Cubs, school and stopped going to church what became of my value system?  When I did break free these values where killed off and replace by ambition and goals.  That’s not to say that I don’t have values, but that today it feels that more emphasis is placed on what you can get, than what you can give.  The children I grew and played with are parents like I, and instead of values we teach our children ambition.  Values are seen as a weakness to be sacrificed at the altar of ambition.

I’ve realised that I’ve interchanged morals with values, are they the same?  Morals are a standard of behaviour, principals of right and wrong, values are a judgement we make on what is important to us.  Morals are the ingredients, values the recipe we choose, and my sense of me, is the cake….Concord cake if you please.

I heard a lovely tale today, about the Taliban.  When the Taliban controlled most of Afghanistan pre 9/11, they installed Sharia law.  Their interpretation exposed women to the most extreme and brutal repressions, one of which was the compulsive wearing of a burqa, a traditional dress covering all, not an inch of flesh was shown from head to toe.  Failure to do so would often lead to public beatings.

Within this setting of religious fervour, there was a band of woman, I think they were nurses, who took to wearing fishnet stockings and tights under their burqas.  This wasn’t done to tantalise or excite, it wasn’t designed to be sexual or erotic.  It was so they could remand faithful to their own, individual core values within an extreme and flawed moralist framework.  At the risk of public beatings or worst, they chose to rebel, to remind themselves of their femininity, their individuality, their identity. 

So, is this what is missing, do I feel a struggle in my life because I have lost touch with my core values, because I have no fishnet stockings of my own? Have I always accepted the morals, ambitions and values of others as my own, and now find that this recipe no longer makes the cake that I want? 

The more I try too identity and connect with my own personal values the more I feel grounded as a human, and the easier it becomes to see where I have been, where I am and where I want to go.  It may no longer be about ‘promises made to do my best and to do my duty to God and to the Queen’, but rather ‘promises made to do my best and to do my duty to myself and my family’. 

Many years ago, I came across a poem ‘If’ by Kipling, I had always thought of this as being a perfect blueprint for how I want to live my life.

IF you can keep your head when all about you 

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

An Invitation

I think I should offer an explanation, I suspect that if anyone is reading this, they may feel it’s rather indulgent and maybe even a wee bit pretentious, well it is.

I’m not blogging for anyone other than myself, this is part of my journey, my exploration into the unknown wilderness that is me. As ancient mariners would mark uncharted waters ‘HC SVNT DRACONES’, the fear of what dragons may be hidden in the recesses of my psyche has caused me to feel that I have never truly fully discovered me.

I don’t anticipate that anyone will read this, or even be tempted to click follow, but if you do, hello and thank you. Maybe some of what I write rings true with you, maybe not, maybe you might feel inspired to answer some of the questions I ask of myself for yourself, maybe not. Maybe you’ll route for me to succeed, maybe jeer for me to fail, or maybe you couldn’t care less. But importantly, you’re here, and for this digital moment our histories collide, and we become a narrative in each other’s story.

Prince once sang,

‘I scan my computer looking 4 a site
Somebody 2 talk 2, funny and bright
I scan my computer looking 4 a site
Make believe it's a better world, a better life’

Well, this is me trying to make the make believe a reality.

Thank you for reading, I’m not sorry that I lack blogs on food, yoga, healthy lifestyle, make up. I won’t offer advice or tips. Feel free to comment, to share, to explore if you feel inclined too. It would be gratifying to feel that what I write has found a common rhythm within your experience, but it’s not needed.

So, I invite you to join me as hoist the main sail, bring the anchor home, stern the bow to the horizon and guided by the Southern Star seek out these pesky dragons. I expect they’ll turn out to be no more than irate Guinea Pigs.

The Life and Times of a Nobody

Hello, so you know when you go for a job interview, palms sweaty, tongue dry, nervous fidgeting, and then they ask you the all-time, no 1, worst question….’tell us about yourself?’.  Suddenly the walls come crushing down on you, you struggle to breath, a hot flush seeps across your face and you look longingly at the window calculating your chance of escape!  How is it possible to encapsulate ‘yourself’ into a 60 to 90 second reply?  What even is ‘yourself?’, do I even know?  And then when you have finally stopped dwelling in this kafkaesque torment, you tend to give a list of professional accomplishments, and hope this is enough to impress and deceive that you have started to doubt that you truly understand ‘yourself’.

Now that I’m really confused lets really think about this, if you asked me to ‘tell you about myself’, and if I wanted you to understand who I am and what is important to me, how would I answer?  So, I’m thinking I’m going to write my obituary to see if we can work this out together.

‘Nobody’ - The man. The myth. The legend.

‘Nobody’ died today as a result of being too stubborn and doing things that he knew better than to do.  ‘Nobody’ was killed when he rushed into a burning orphanage, tackled a troop of blood crazed tigers and saved a group of adorable children. Or maybe not. We all know how he liked to tell stories.

‘Nobody’ loved take-away food smothered in Burger sauce, Zombies, sleeping, toy soldiers, Supernatural, one beautiful woman, and Diet Coke.  

He hated vegetables, tying shoelaces, injustice and hypocrites. 

‘Nobody’ didn’t suffer fools and had a certain disdain for people.  Individuals were OK, he would even go so far as to say that he liked a few of them, but people, a collective mass would have him running to the hills in terror.

Peas were the food of the devil and Julia Roberts the Devils ambassador.

He was master of the remote control and ruled the television with a fair and equal hand, providing it was nothing medical or slushy.  He excelled at never losing competitive illness and reading any history book he could find.

‘Nobody’ loved to tell stories. And you could be sure 50% of every story was true. You just never knew which 50%.

Vin Diesel, The Rock and Jason Stratham were his movie heroes. And he was the hero for his three children: Cuddle Bear, Baby Bear and Poppy Bear.  Too Mummy Bear, he felt that at times he was more of a burden, but despite this he loved her with a furnace of passion, she was the ballast that kept him afloat and for which he was eternally grateful.  She taught him the importance of laughter, generosity, compassion and wisdom.

‘Nobody’ was a fashion trend setter, he took cues from no one.  He exclusively wore his soft trousers with pride and often formed long lasting deep and emotional relationships with them.  He was also a champion for Crocs, who can forget the stoic look of ‘Nobody’ trudging through the snow in his Crocs and socks?  But of course, given the choice, ‘Nobody’ would choose to be naked, bearing his buns to the sun.

‘Nobody’ lived his life to the mantra ‘Carpe Diem’, providing he could do it tomorrow, and if he couldn’t, the day after that would be fine.

‘Nobody’ lived with a shadow throughout his life, a fear that he could not find his original voice, that he was missing out, that his purpose would be lost, that he was without passion.  But then in a lightning bolt from Zeus, he discovered that his original voice lay within his family of bears.  His children are his passion.  He just hopes that the realization hasn’t happened too late.

‘Nobody’ would like to feel, that despite the struggles he did a wonderful job at life.  That he’ll be remembered for his smile, his warmth, his creativeness, his playfulness, and that he made a difference.  Each day he would try to do at least one thing right.

But most of all for his lifelong crusade to educate on the dangers of holding in your farts.  He tried to find humor in every situation, whatever life throws at him, he tries to get through it by laughing.  Unfortunately, not everyone had such a finely and uniquely attuned sense of humor so wouldn’t always get the joke, which just made ‘Nobody’ laugh even louder.

So that’s my attempt.  Do you feel you understand me better now?  I tried to be as honest as I dare, and it felt good. 

Interesting, strange, fascinating, useless and amusing things I learnt this week.

1/ Brussel Sprouts are the food of the devil!

In recent survey’s the Brussel came trumps as Britain’s most hated vegetable, and a few years back a warship even banned the veg from her decks.  However, our fear of this little green faux cabbage appears to go back to the Middle Ages.  The sulphurous smell produced by the vegetable and sometimes by those eating them was a sure sign that the devil lurked among the leaf’s of this tiny bud, cutting a small cross into the base of the Sprout was a way to bless and exercise the demons within.  And to think all these years I thought that it only helped to evenly cook the Brussel Sprout!  On a side note, Brussels as the name suggests come from Brussels, maybe another reason to leave the EU, or not?

2/ In 2017 a new continent was discovered!

Ok, so that’s not strictly true, it was actually found in 1995, but not confirmed as a continent by scientists until 2017.  So how does a land mass 1,900,000 sq miles and home to 5 million people remain hidden for up to 23 million years?  This cunning and devious land decides to sink 93% of its mass under the Pacific Ocean.  I’m not quite sure if that’s allowed within the rules of hide and seek, but like toes poking out from under the curtains, this continent was given away by rocks breaking the ocean waves, giving homes to Hobbits and New Zealanders alike.  While it’s officially been named Zealandia by those in the know, I would like to believe that this could be the fabled Middle Earth.

3/ The Queen’s banana’s!

Oh on, the Queen’s coming for tea and all we have is this bunch of bananas’!  Oh, what to do?  It’s ok, the Queen eats bananas, but how she eats them might seem a little ‘bananas’.  While you and I , might be tempted to grab the fruit and peel it like the monkeys do, the Royal Ma’am prefers to cut away the top and bottom of the fruit, slice away the peel with surgical precision and then proceed to eat the Banana with a knife and fork! 

Now there are some foods that need to be eaten with cutlery and some that don’t.  Surely the Banana falls into the latter?  It’s even comes in a handy wrapper.  I must admit that sometimes I’ve eaten pizza with a knife and fork, it depends on how heavily and precariously laden it is with toppings.  Just before Christmas, while out celebrating a friend’s birthday, I witnessed one of our number order a hamburger and then begin to cut into it with knife and fork, I watched rather baffled and curiously fascinated.  But a banana?  Maybe if it’s covered in Ice Cream and smothered in chocolate

'Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom'

Hello again, so I didn't manage not to wake the wife last night when I tried to sneak into bed, for my efforts I suffered a swift kick to the shin.

Last time I talked about the parts of me, not being equal to the sum of me.  But isn't that true for us all?  We know I'm a husband, a father, a pet owner, an ex-smoker, don't like my job and like food too much, but that's what I am, not who I am.  From this, 'mes enfants', we can infer or deduce all manner of identities, but how can we be certain, can we ever be, and how much does it matter, who we really are?  And do we need to know who we really are to be really happy?  Can we just assume to be happy?  After all can we assume to assume anything?

To assume is one of the things that turns my skin green, makes my muscles rip through my shirt and causes me to communicate in monosyllabic grunts.  To make an assumption is to dismiss a person's truth.  We assume, when the truth is seen as too inconvenient, or it doesn't align with our narrative, or we simple don't have the inclination to listen.  Assumptions can lead too misunderstanding, which can lead too persecution, which can lead too anger, which can lead too conflict, which can lead too the end of humanity as we know it....all because we didn't feel the need to listen.  Sorry, I'm ranting and digressing, so back to where I wanted to go.

So how do I find out who I am?

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” ~E.E. Cummings

Lets start at the beginning, if you're sitting comfortably, I'll begin.  I guess to help me truly understand who I am or feel I am meant to be, I should start by asking some questions.  What is it that is stopping me from, what was it that stopped me from quitting smoking for so long?

I was afraid, afraid I couldn't do it, afraid I wouldn't be good enough, afraid I would fail and in turn let the people I love down, so much so that it made me want to reach for another cigarette!  73 days ago I had my last cigarette.  It's been hard, and there are times when I wish I could light up, but I'm not going to.  I decided, that fateful day, that the fear of failing was not going to stop me, hold me back any longer, and this neatly brings us to my first question.

If there was no fear, that I knew I couldn't fail, what or who would I be?

At first, I thought, 'How am I suppose to know, how is anyone meant to know?', but with a little effort, a little wine, and then a bit more belief, the penny dropped.  I want to be a paperback writer!  As Leopold Bloom danced and sang when he had his epitome, so did i, albeit in my heart, in a dark room, lights off, curtains drawn and with no-one watching.   While I'm sure you are thinking 'writing?,  never?,  really?,  I would never have believed it!,  Well that's a turn up for the books!,   Who would have thought it!.  It's always been nestled, snugly in the back of my mind, fed with the occasional nourishment of dreams and aspirations.  The fear of failing had locked it firmly in place and tortured me with ideas of what if. 

The next, will seem a tab fantastical, but then I never said it had to fall within the realm of reality, but I imagine it would really help.  I would absolutely love to be a time traveler.  I'm not interested in going forward, only backwards.  I enjoy looking at old photographs, images from history.  I'll look at the people in them and wonder who they were, what they did, what they were thinking.  I wonder what they would make of life today.  I'll picture their world, their life, dreams, hopes and fears and compare that with mine today.  I'll try to forge a connection with this long dead person, or a scenery that has long vanished, sacrificed to the Gods of modernization. The oldest object I own is a French Napoleon III coin from 1856.  In that year The Crimea War ended, the Wild West was still pretty Wild, Sigmund Freud, Nikola Tesla, George Bernard Shaw and Woodrow Wilson were born.  Slavery was still practiced in the States, the American Civil War was still 5 years away.   Man only dreams of flying and the idea of an internet would have been seen as the rantings of a mad man guilty of heresy.  But this coin has survived, survived the rise and fall of nations, survived countless invasions and liberations.  It has survived a journey, carried in the hands and pockets of nameless thousands and eventually it found a way across the sea and into my hands.  It's worn and tarnished, but it shines, it glows with the stories of those that held it before.  This coin, as also the photographs, are history's legacy to me, they speak of a bond between now and then, they whisper of the enduring curiosity of human nature, they reveal a commonality within the human condition and they promise that, like the dinosaurs, life finds a way.

Anyhow, for now, I'm going to bed, hope this made some sense too you and if you're interested, the wife did have chocolate in her bag!  Till next time, when I think I'll be writing my obituary!

Welcome to the Year of Living Dangerously

So it's 2019, Christmas has been and gone, I'm a little less younger than I was, the dog has had puppies, the children are asleep and the wine and chocolate are all gone......although I'm sure my Wife is hording some bars in her bag!!!!

As it's quiet, I thought I'd write by the dying glow of the fire and the twinkling from the tree, but where to begin...

It seems only proper that before we begin this journey we should have formal introductions.  I'm married to a feisty, challenging and incredible woman, whom I feel so lucky to wake up next to each day.  I have three children, one just in her teens, the youngest on the verge of becoming a toddler and the last somewhere in between.  They are, beyond a doubt, without question, indisputably my world, as I'd hope any parent would say of their children... it's a shame, I was going to say 'I'm sure', but sadly, I know that's not true.  I just know, that if the building was burning down, it's the kids I would save first, the wife would have to fend for herself...it's OK, I know she feels the same way!

The amazing thing about my kids, apart from the fact, that somehow they managed to be my kids, is that each day they teach me something new, they force me to question and evaluate, they motivate me to be better, to be more than who I am.  They force me, with their smiles, or laughter, or a flick of their hair, to face my failings and fight the good fight, so they can say they are as proud of me as I am of them.  And boy, it's a real fight sometimes!!
 
Now I know they're not perfect, they are wonderful, but I wouldn't want them to be perfect.
Their are also currently five dogs and a cat in my household, approximately 50%-40% of the time, my Mum stays with us as well.  Interesting how I've listed my Mum along with the pets!  A cigar is sometimes a cigar, sometimes it's a Freudian slip!

There's also a strong possibility, that my niece may be coming too live with us, she's having real problems at home.  As my wife says, 'we must help if we can', and well we can.  And when it feels like we live in a society where it is easier to say no than it is to say yes, where the focus seems to be not on what we can do for others, but on what others can do for us, it's time to herald the banner, let loose the dogs of war and shout 'YES'.

I'm an ex-smoker, which is proving to be really hard, but I'm sticking at it.  I was promised a PS4 if I survived giving up,  it's yet to materialize.  I am told I can go and buy one, but I can't help feeling that I've been conned a little, while the agreement was I could have one, nothing was agreed that I could actually play the console once it was home......

I'm overweight, I like food, enough said.

I'm really struggling with my job, it's failing me and in turn I must be failing it, which then brings forth all kinds of questions and fears.  I also have some issues with the management there which doesn't help.

So, that's just a brief hello, life here is often chaotic, sometimes very difficult and we forget to smile, sometimes very silly and loving and warm like a big soft embrace.  It's never dull, it's Mediterranean, with a touch of Never Never Land.

These are just some of the parts of me, but not the sum.  I'm not really sure of what the sum is, only that it's forever changing it's course, sometimes wild, sometimes tame, like a giant meandering river.  And tragically this is a river I feel I have not swam in enough.  I don't feel authentic, there are parts of me, that don't feel real or genuine.  But for now the fire has died and I need to go to bed or risk the wrath of my wife, so stay tuned for the next exciting installment.  Will he fall perilously to his doom like Icarus when he tried to touch the sun, or will he soar like Pegasus into the heavens.

Amazing lady, amazing talent, amazing crafts, it's all just so, what's the word?....Amazing

https://thewhitefairy.co.uk/

Harry's first exciting war story is on his page, click right to view.

A Social Experiment into ...... Me

In a few days time, I'll be 43, it'll be Christmas, we'll have a brace of new puppies, I'll have, possibly, handed in my notice at work, or phoned in a bomb threat......and I think I'm on the verge of a mid-life crisis!  Is 43 midlife?  Or is it the new 13?
So what am I doing here?  What's this all about?  A friend today told me that they'd had enough of being an adult, being grown up is not all they sold it as when we were kids (and the kicker is, there's no return policy). Or to paraphrase my 13 year old daughter, it slowly dismantles your soul day by day.
So that's it, to discover myself, or re-discover, or reaffirm, or evaluate, or 'performance management review', or 'boldly go', but essentially, this 43 year old kid has been playing a huge hide and seek game in which I've never truly felt I've pinned the tail on the donkey, or kissed the girl, or smashed the pinata!  How's all that for mixed metaphors?  Which is how I feel, a mixed metaphor!
You may feel that I'm being incredibly indulgent, but hey, you don't have to read, but if you do, I hope you enjoy, share and can find a thread of honesty in the incoherent and subconscious ramblings of a 'Nobody'.