Fear and Loathing at Wembley

In 3 days time i will be making the trip to Wembley for the Play-Off final. In my footballing supporting life it will be about the 7th or 8th showpiece event that i have attended, and on each and every occasion, i have come away bitterly disappointed, that although I'd hoped we would come away delighted with a famous victory, instead I've come away with a horrible, nauseous feeling of that we have blown it again.

The best bit about the day is getting there, and not meaning the trip down there, but the game that seals qualification to attend a showpiece game, be it a Cup Semi-Final or Play Off Final, and the sudden dawning on you that yeah, we have reached Wembley and one game stands between us and promotion to a higher division, or yeah, we are now one game away from a Cup Final. You dare to dream.

The fortnight before the game usually builds up slowly but surely, as you check you have got enough money to go, and make financial adjustments to ensure that you have got enough spending money (and this in my case means having enough money to purchase enough alcohol to sink a battleship should we be successful), then you go down and have to queue for tickets, and feel a little tingle of excitement when you get your tickets, and that big day seems just that little bit closer. You make your travel arrangements, be in on a train, in a car, on a coach, but you arrange all this with your friends, and decide on where you are drinking before the match.

The worst feeling up to this point is the night before the match, as work provides a distraction, as does functioning in day to day life, the normal run of the mill diverts your attention slightly, but you still are thinking about the match, and sometimes you allow yourself to get carried away, with what will it be like if we win, its only natural because when your a football fan, deep down you believe that this will be the day that you forget about the past, break the jinx's and throw off the shackles of negativity and depression over previous glorious, and more pertinently inglorious defeats.

Your head hits the pillow the night before, and you close your eyes, yet you can't sleep, your mind is racing, what will it be like?, will we win, a lot of your excitement revolves around your friends, and a good day out, and you dream to think what it will be like to win, and share and celebrate the victory with them. Your mind is racing, dreaming, hoping and thinking that tomorrow could be the best day of your supporting life.

You wake up the next morning, and your buzzing, you might not have had much sleep as your head was spinning faster than you wanted it to do with your dreams, but your up and about and bouncing around your house, getting ready for the match with all the hope, expectation and excitement that you have got, and this, this is the day that you finally achieve something, you have your day in the sun and boy, your going to love it today, and you now know this will be the best day of your life, bar none. Nothing could go wrong, nothing could spoil it, and this is going to be day that you'll remember for the rest of your life.

You leave the house with a spring in your step, and go and meet your mates, and your all up a bit earlier than you'd ideally like, but you've all got the same spring in your step, the same hope in your heart, and you all feel the same way about the football team who you love and adore, who have let you down in the past, but the team you've always found forgiveness for, the team you can forgive for breaking your dreams in the past, because today will be different, today will be day that you leave the boulevard of broken dreams, and in a few hours you'll be travelling back home victorious, proud and with something to shout from the rooftops about and nothing will stop you.

Before the match you go to the pub, it is packed, absolutely rammed full of like minded individuals, all singing, all wearing the red and white, all massively proud of your club and every one has got a spring in their step, and a smile on their face. There is old timers who have followed the club for 50 years or more, and the little kids looking a bit overawed and overwhelmed about the big day at Wembley, the lads on the piss, the girlfriends who have come to their first match in ages because it is a big game, a good day out, but what everyone wants for, and what everyone hopes for is success and you feel that fuck it, yeah, today is the day.

Before the match, you walk up to the ground, enjoy a bit of good natured banter with the opposition supporters, sing the club songs, and soak up the atmosphere. Your nerves reach breaking point as the match approaches, and you get in the ground, walk up the gangway and see the pitch, see the red and white, hear the songs which sounds like a wall of noise, and you think this is it, this is our day, this is gonna be it.

The match kicks off, a sloppy pass here, a mistimed tackle there, and the opposition are all over you, they are better than you, more up for it than you, and all you can feel is helplessness, pain, hate, hate, hate. Nobody is singing, nobody is smiling, its like you are sat in a car waiting to crash and there is nothing you can do to stop it from happening, and you know it is going to happen, and there is nothing. It is impossible to get up and sing, it is impossible to feel anything other than disappointment, hate and despair. The opposition score, you are a goal down, and you try your hardest to think positively, that this will be your day, that you will get back in to the match and you will go on and win it, but you can't, you hamstrung by your own worst fears, nightmares, and you don't want to be here, but would rather be anywhere but here, watching this shit, feeling the pain.

The full time whistle blows, and you've lost, you've blown it again. The old timer shakes his head, and has that look of a weather beaten man who has been there and seen it all before because he probably has, whilst the little kid who is there for the first time is crying, his tears smudging his red and white face pain, and it hurts you, because he feels the same as you, yet you've felt this pain before and this is his first time, and he has never known pain like this before. You all feel the same hurt, the same pain and the same mutual loathing, and it fucking hurts.

The trip home is morose and subdued, nobody wants to really say anything, nobody wants a laugh, and you sit there on a train that takes fucking forever to get back home, armed with a load of cans, and nothing to do to drink, drink to forget, drink to wash the pain away, and there is now nothing else to do than get pissed. Your phone bleeps with gloating messages from friends who support other clubs, but they don't register and you don't respond, because really you emotions might get the better of you, and you might act in a completely different way to the normal, sane, rational person that you are. You get home, and all you want to do is go home, get in bed, and go to sleep and forget.

Another game, another set of hope and dreams shattered, and you might as well have been better staying in bed, cos for all the good it has done, your skint, and you've fucking blown it all again.

An absent fathers tale, Part 3 (The Reprise)

Yesterday i had arranged to go round to my ex-wives house. I was quite nervous about going as i didn't know what the atmosphere would be like with myself and my ex, and it was the first time that i had seen Harrison for a number of months.

I drove there and arrived 20 minutes early, so i parked around the corner for 15 minutes, smoked a couple of fags (still trying to kick the habit), listened to a bit of music (The Jam), and did a bit of Facebooking talking about last nights match and preparing myself for the impending despair of another fuck up from the club that i love. That 15 minutes seemed a lot longer, it was a bit like waiting outside the Doctor's waiting room hoping for the all clear, but thinking there might be bad news instead, and i was not really in the mood for raking up the past mistakes, and it all turning out sour the moment that we saw each other, and desperately hoping that we wouldn't want to kill each other and hate each others guts. Hate is such a horrible, destructive emotion, and it takes a lot more energy and effort to hate, than it does to love or respect, or even treat someone with dignity, but sometime hate can be the over-riding emotion above everything else.Since our marriage break up, the love we once had a few years back had been replaced by hatred, bitterness and mutual loathing of each other, and to be quite honest it had been like living through a car crash in slow motion, in the sense of the foreboding of what was going to happen but feeling completely powerless to stop it all.

I was also very nervous about seeing Harrison, as i had not seen him before Christmas, and i was really looking forwards to seeing him. Loads of stuff raced through my mind, how much had he grown, how much more was he saying, what did he look like now, how would he be with me, would he pick up on any tension, and the absolute fucking killer. Would he even know that i was his Daddy? It is an absolutely horrific feeling that being a parent who loves their kid, that your kid doesn't even know who you are, and it is not a feeling that i would ever want to have to live through.

So i started the car, and drove the 200 yards around the corner to my ex-wives house, where i parked outside, took a huge deep breath and got out of the car, locked it all up, and walked up the path to her house where i saw the most amazing beautiful little man looking out of the window and smiling at his Daddy, and it melted my heart. The ex opened the door and invited me in, and within 30 seconds i was messing about with Harrison, playing with his toys with him, and it was really like i had never been away from him for the last 5 months, and much to amazement he actually knew who i was, and had wanted to see me. I got slapped, punched and fought with, as that as a healthy vibrant 3 year old boy, he is keen on the rough and tumble, and seemed to enjoy it. I looked at him happy and smiling and i thought that there is something, very, very special there and i really did feel that father and son bond, and wondered if my Dad had thought about the same when i was at the same age, and i bet that he did.

What was even more amazing is that for the first time in years there seemed to be no friction or animosity between me and my ex-wife. She made the a coffee exactly the same as she used to a few years ago, although i've still an aversion to skimmed milk, and refilled the coffee for me without me even asking for it. We had quite a lengthy conversation about a lot of things, and there is still a long way to go to fully rebuild the trust and mutual respect that you need to co-exist as separated parents, but we have made a start, and quite frankly that makes me happy and it takes a lot of weight and stress off my shoulders. What was really encouraging for me, is that a lot of stuff we talked about was the future, and how we saw it, and how we both said to each other that we still want the best for each other, and actually meant it. One of the hardest things about separating when you are both the parents of a child, is when one parent meets someone else, as being a father, you don't really want to think about another man stepping in to your role in family life, and i felt it was quite important to know about my ex-wives new relationship, because you want and need to know what sort of bloke is going to play a part in the upbringing of your child. She was happy to tell me all about her new bloke, and he did seem to across really well, as a proper decent bloke, and i was relieved to know that, and having assessed and analysed the situation, i can feel comfortable with him being in my son's like, and you know what, deep down i feel really happy that my ex-wife is happy and content in a relationship with someone who seems like a decent bloke. Having said that i did have to ask the all important question of what football team does he support, and i was relieved to hear that he wasn't a Wednesday supporter, because as stupid as it seems one of the things that i want to pass on to Harrison is my lifelong love of Sheffield United. As it goes he is a Liverpool fan, not ideal in raising H a Blade, but a it will make passing it on a bit easier.

Since August 2010 when i split with my ex wife, my life has been insanely stressful, and i would be a massive liar if i said that at times things hadn't got on top of me, and stress me out beyond belief, but now it is May 2012, i can sit here and finally say that the stress has started to lift off my shoulders, and now things have got to the stage where i can stop worrying and stressing about the acrimonious split and divorce with my ex-wife, as i have to be honest it has been a bitter, nasty and protracted split, but i can look towards the future as a father to Harrison, and someone who can and will a strong, and respectful relationship with my ex-wife and that is the way it has to, and it will be. It's all not going to be easy, and i know that it will not be easy, but with a lot of hard work, and i think that we can build a lot of trust and respect, and that in the long run will be a good thing.

And as if yesterday wasn't already good enough, the Blades beat Stevenage to get to the play-off final and a trip to Wembley beckons.

Life is good.

Happy Birthday

Today would have been my Dad's 63rd Birthday, but sadly it is a birthday that he is no longer around to celebrate, and that is a huge shame.

He died 8 years from Pancreatic Cancer, and it was a huge, insanely devastating blow, and something that took me a long, long time to get over, as within the space of 3 months, the person who offered me the most guidance in life, was like a best mate, and the man who helped shape me in to the man that i have become today was gone. For a long time after it happened, i was like a lost soul, lacking that guidance, lacking any sense of purpose, but as time went on, i learned to live with it, learned how to deal with it, and although i have never stopped missing him, i have learned how to cope with the grief, cope with him not being, here, and most importantly be able to take control of my own life without his guidance, and become a man that he would be proud of.

As much as i miss him, and my mind often wanders back to my Dad, but now it is not that sense of feeling that he is not there, just random thoughts of what he would be like now, what he would think about certain things, what sort of stuff he would be doing, and one thing that gives me a bit of strength is how well i did cope in the end on my own two feet, and i think that deep down that although there is a lot of stuff that i would change in my life, that is a given, there is a lot of stuff that he would immensely proud of.

He would have been proud that i would have made him a Grandfather, he would have been proud of the fact that i have to battle some adversity in life and battled through it, he would have been proud that i turned my life around from being a pot smoking waster who drifted along from dead end job to dead end job to being a hard working train driver who lives in his own home, ended up actually learning to drive (which he always badgered me to do but i never got round to doing), he would have also been very proud of my sister, and on her wedding day when i gave her away, in a sense it wasn't me giving her away but it was my Dad giving her away.

I wear my Dad's gold chain around my neck, i have worn it for the last few years, i was given it and didn't know what to do with it, so i wore it and have never taken it off since that day, because with that chain, it means whenever i wear that chain, my Dad lives on as a part of me, and next week i will see my son Harrison and when i look at him i will also see that he is with H, as he lives on through the both of us, and H look's even more like him that i have ever done.

As a role model, guide and mentor in life, what you did for me when your alive i will never forget, and the memories and thoughts of you now your no longer here, still offer me a lot of guidance in life

I Still Love You Dad, Happy Birthday, and I'll see you for a drink, but not for a good few years yet.

Nick

Ambivelence

As i write this, i'm sat at home with a packet of Golden Virginia (the giving up smoking went right well at the end, as it was time to start again before i killed someone, and got a bottle of Jim Beam on the go, and sat playing on the internet once again. When i was in a relationship nights like this were few and far between, and i used to enjoy them, but what used to be an occasional event, has sadly become an all too frequent occurance.

At 34 years old i shouldn't really be sat up until all hours, drinking, smoking and just passing time, i should be happily married, settled down with a couple of kids, with all the trappings but i'm not. People see me as a single lad with seemingly plenty of time to go out and enjoy life, and feel envious, but the reality is not something to be envious of, as like with all things it gets mundane, boring and tiring after a while.

So how do i get out of this rut. Find a relationship and settle down once again, but that is easier said than done. There has only really been two women i can say that i have been in love with, one was my ex-wife and the other was the girl who i went out with straight after i split with my wife. In the first case the split was inevitable as things had gone irreversably wrong and the split was only a matter of time, and in the second case it was a case of too much, too soon as i was just coming out of a long term relationship and maybe i should have taken a bit of time out for the relationship game in the first case, but it was there, and i enjoyed it, and began falling in love with her, but too much, too soon.

Too often now i find myself, not really caring too much about stuff, but just about caring enough to keep going. I don't want to be seen as the bloke who goes out there and blows it all and loses everything, so that is my motivation to keep going, to keep the mortgage getting paid, to keep on getting up to go work, and to keep just plodding on, for what at times seems to be little or no reward, but the rewards might come sooner, or they might come later, but that does remain to be seen.

One thing i do have going for me is my friends. The last couple of years i have learned who my friends are, and who aren't. That has been a very important lesson. Last Saturday i went to watch Sheffield United (another lifelong disaster zone) down at Exeter, with a group of very good mates, in fact i would say some of my best friends ever went down, lads i could trust with my life, that is maybe the most important thing in my life, and i had the rare chance to see maybe the biggest lifelong friend i have ever had, my little sister for a few hours, which is always a good thing, and i even treated her to her dinner! Having a good time with good friends and good company always leads to a bit of a comedown when it comes to being up alone late at night, confronting my demons, and wondering where other stuff went wrong.

One of lifes greatest problems and issues is that we always want what we haven't got. I've got a decent house, brilliant job, lovely son, and some great mates but sometimes maybe i don't see that, and concentrate on what i haven't got.

Prehaps the answer isn't at the bottle of a bottle, but finding someone new who i can fall in love with and spend the rest of my life with, and someday Sheffield United will actually be successful and make all the effort worthwhile, maybe that is the answer, but who knows.

One thing i do know is that in the words of U2, i still haven't found what i'm looking for, but then again part of the fun is looking for it.

Ched Evans, my view

Friday the 20th of April 2012, was a dark day for the football club i support. The striker and star player, Ched Evans was found guilty of raping a 19 year old girl, and sentenced to 5 years imprisonment. At the time i was incredibly upset and sad that a player who i had supported, and given the benefit of the doubt to until such a time he was convicted or cleared in a court of law.

I'd followed the trail closely for a few days, and learned a lot of stuff i didn't know before, a lot of it due to the legal system, and a couple of legal professionals on a football forum that i frequent, and i gained a lot of insight, and the details of the night seemed murky, and i was not 100% convinced that he was guilty of the crime that he had committed but i had a nagging feeling that he would get found guilty.

I find any form of sexual assault on a woman, disgraceful, sickening and people who sexually attack and abuse women, are scum, the lowest of the low, and deserve having their bollocks cutting off. I find the act of rape pretty indefensible, and sickening, as i always imagine what it would be like if someone raped a female member of my family, and it gets my blood boiling at the mere thought of it.

I also believe in making my own decisions and we are all responsible for all our own thought processes, and thinking about way to come to make decisions, and therefore if we make a decision then i usually take it was my moral obligation to follow the decision that i have made, as i would not be true to myself or others if i didn't follow anything views, that i had formed through my own educated opinion.

One thing that based on the evidence that i have heard and seen, and i thank the power of the internet for giving me a lot of information, and enabling me to look in-depth at the evidence that is presented before me. And i strongly believe that Ched Evans is not guilty of the offence of rape, and i strongly feel that he has been set up on this occasion, and that a serious miscarriage of justice has taken place.

I base this opinion on a lot of stuff that i have seen in the social networking media, including a lot of support from people in Ched Evan's hometown of Rhyl, a lot of support from his team-mates, and a lot of support from the world of football, which i don't think wouldn't have been the case if it was clear cut, and Ched had been guilty of the offence of Rape.

What does concern me, and makes me angry is the girl who has been allegedly raped, has not been painted in a particularly good light. The day after she was allegedly raped she the toxicology report that she had Cocaine and Cannabis in her system, and therefore must had been spiked. From my own personal knowledge of drugs, then Cocaine wouldn't have made her docile, in fact the quite the opposite, and Cannabis is a drug that is difficult to spike somebody with unless you lace their food with it, and lets face it, if you was going to spike somebody then it would be a date rape drug rather than Cannabis.

The girl is not thought of highly in local circles in Rhyl from what i have read, where she has been named and several allegations against her Character have been made, including accusations that she has a Cocaine habit, she has already made an allegation of rape against somebody else in the past, she has a reputation of being an 'easy lay', and her family are not spoken of particularly highly. Then this was made worse by the girl in questions twitter account being made public, including her speaking of what she was going to spend the money on when she had her windfall (Pink Mini Coopers, and trips to Australia and Ibiza), and also allegations that she was out on the lash the following weekend. This to me doesn't not stack up with what you would normally expect from the victim of a rape, who to my mind would be traumatised to the extent that she would be mentally affected to the extent that it would be a long time until she plucked up the courage to go out drinking alcohol on a night out.

With this case too much doesn't stack up, including a lot of things that have appeared about her, and i think that had the jury had seen some of this evidence, which admittedly not admissible in a court of law, then i think that a different verdict would have been reached.

Like i have said, this is only my opinion so people are free to criticise it, and call me every name under the sun, but i have my right to my own opinion and i stand by that. I think due to the seriousness of the allegation of rape, that it is something that making a false allegation of for financial gain for is almost as bad as the act of rape, and i hope that in this case the allegation is correct on the basis of that if the allegation is found to be false and made for purely financial gain, it is something that is nearly as bad as the act of rape itself.

For a man to accused of rape, it is socially degrading, demeaning and an accusation of rape is something that a man will have to wear for the rest of his life, and walk round with the social stigma, which if is he is genuinely guilty then it is genuinely deserved, but if it is a false allegaton then it is something that the person making the false allegation will have to live with for the rest of their lives, and that is mainly destroying the life of someone who is innocent.

As for my own view, i think that the only crime that Ched Evans' is guilty of is that of being stupid enough of allowing himself to get drawn in a situation where there was the potential of an allegation of rape, but i think that in this case the girl in question knew what has happening at the time, consented to having sexual intercourse with Ched Evans, and purely and simply i think that Ched Evans is not guilty.

The final thought on this is that here has been a couple of footballers convicted of rape during the last couple of years. Marlon King and Tes Bramble, but in both of those cases there was nowhere near the amount of support and the nowhere near the same amount of questions being placed against the guilty verdict, and i think that is something that has to be question why it has happening now with this case and not those.

The Weakness Of The Mind

I'm 34 years old. Grown up, got a decent job, house and car, but i do have a dirty little habit, and one that i'm ashamed of, and that is for the last 20 years i have been a smoker.

During the last 20 years i have made several attempts to give up. Some have lasted a couple of hours, some have gone on for a few weeks, but it would be wrong to say that some have been more succesful that others, and this is another case of one being unsuccessful, and i hate myself for it.

I got up yesterday, faithfully stuck my nicotine patch on, and felt a little bit of pride at breaking the 3 week barrier of not having a cigarette and beating the odd craving here and there. During the last 3 weeks i have felt a lot better, kept up with my running and progressing with that, by running further and not getting as out of breath, kept up with my healthy eating, and generally felt in better shape than i have done for years.

Yet, at work tonight, and it was a good night at work, relatively stress free, and pretty straightforward, i felt the urge for a cigarette and told myself that i can have some cigarettes and start again on Sunday, so i ended up going home from work in the car, and stopping off at a 24 hour garage, and buying 20 Marlboro Lights and smoking them until my heart was content on the drive home from work, and now i'm sat in the kitchen enjoying a well earned Jim Beam and Coke after work, writing this out, and got another fag on the go.

I feel stupid, i feel weak and i feel like i have let myself down, let others down who have had faith in me, and helped to encourage me in my attempt to kick the evil weed. By not having a cigarette for 3 weeks i'd felt good, i'd felt proud of what i had done, and now all that has gone to waste.

I'm going to go to bed in a minute and grab some sleep before getting back up at dinnertime, and then get out on the beer, watch Sheffield United and then have a good night up town, but today i' m going to smoke and i'm going to smoke as much as i want, but then when i wake up on Sunday morning, i'm going to lament the demise of Attempt Number 156 to give up smoking and get cracking on Attempt Number 157, and hopefully it will last for the rest of my life.

An absent fathers tale Part 2

I wrote my initial blog a couple of days back, and it was hard to write, and even harder to publish to put out in the open about my situation, and be frank about the situation that i have found myself in with regards to getting access to my son.

The first thing i noticed, and i was genuinely humbled about, is the number of people who have spoken to me about what i have written in that initial blog, and to be quite honest I've been humbled about what people have said about it, but the support i have got behind me, and people in the same situation have. It was not a blog about me as such, i was more recounting my experiences of what it is like to be an absent father, and to make a point that when it comes down to it, an absent father is not necessarily an absent father through choice, and it sometimes comes down to the mother, and the choice's they make. I'm not saying i was perfect, because i wasn't, and there was so much better i could have done at certain points, but there comes a point where i look at my situation and i can look at myself in the mirror and say to myself i don't deserve what is happening to me.

What i find frustrating is there are cases where the father becomes estranged from a child through no fault of his own, through his own reckless actions. Things like abusive behaviour, domestic violence and genuinely being a complete bastard to the mother of his child. I was none of this, yet it seems to the situation that where the father has been a complete bastard, he still gets the right to see his child as the mother See's it in the child's best interest's to let the father keep contact, but in other cases where there has not been the backdrop of violence and abuse, that the contact ceases at the whim of the mother of the child. I know because if i didn't know my own situation i would be asking the question of 'why doesn't she want him to see his kid?', and that is the conclusion i would draw, and i think it is something that i feel a lot of stigma about, and i hate having that question asked of me.

It's a hard thing to say, but there is a part of me that wishes that i had been violent towards my ex, as it would be an explanation as to why I've not got access, but if i had gone down that route, i would probably have ended up in Prison, ended up with a criminal record and no hope of seeing my son in the future. Sometimes i think that i have to endure the provocation that i have done in the past from my ex, as she wants me to turn round and be aggressive, so she can get the Police involved, and push me further away from ever getting access, but i value my pride, dignity, career, life and hold on to the chance of getting regular access to much for me to be lose control.

The last occasion i was supposed to see my son, was on a Wednesday last December, I'd become anxious and nervous the day before, due to the atmosphere when i was picking up and dropping my son off, and i was concerned that the abuse i was getting was neither warranted or called for, and i asked a mutual friend (well her best friend) to speak to her about her conduct, and that at the time i didn't feel comfortable picking my son up from my ex's house due to these reasons, and that is what lead to the stopping of contact, and the abusive phone call i received that night. At that point i had pretty much had enough of the insults, abuse and provocation, and had decided it was time to get it all sorted out, before things did get out hand, and i did or something that i would later regret. It might sound like a soft way out, but it was not a situation i wanted to place myself, or my son in.

People keep asking me how i do i cope with the situation that i find myself in, and the answer is that it is not easy. I think about my son a lot, and when i say a lot, he is usually the first thing i think about in the morning, and the last think i think about at night, and usually what i think about most of the day as well. It is incredibly hard to stay strong, and not to like down, and let it destroy my life. I'm quite lucky at work, because i enjoy my job, and when I'm working i find it quite easy to switch off from everything else that is going off around me in my personal life, and concentrate on my work. In a way it is like taking one head off, and putting another one on. As strange as it might seem, i do quite a lot of stuff now that is conducive to a healthy lifestyle. I eat healthier than i used to, making sure i get three meals a day and not just living of fried food and takeaways. cutting down on Alcohol, going running 2 or 3 times a week, which is usually good as it puts any negative thoughts to the back of my mind, and i come back refreshed, energised and with the endorphins rushing around my body. I try and be as open to friends about what i' going through, as it is like an escape valve, and it is good to talk about what I've been going through and it means that i don't bottle it all up. 8 years ago i lost my father to cancer and i fell to pieces for quite a while after that, but what i did learn is a lot about the human mind and how it works, and the ways and means of keeping mentally fit. Nothing can ever replace my Dad, but i think that horrible experience i went through in losing him, has given me a bit more inner strength, and knowledge that i can draw upon, and i think that the estrangement from H could have had very different consequences and an effect on my life if i had gone through the trauma of bereavement with the loss of my Dad. In another way blogging this is an help, as it is cathartic as it is enabling me to express the feeling's that come with estrangement from your child.

So what now? That's the £64,000 dollar question, and one that i can't quite answer as i don't know myself. I'm going to keep fighting hard to get access to my son, as i owe it to him to be a loving and responsible father, and a father who i can show to my son that i love and care for him. I can't just turn around and walk away forever as that will cause more damage in the long-term that a bit of short-term pain could ever cause anyone, and the last thing i want to happen, and the thing that i will absolutely not let happen is for him to grow up thinking that his Dad never gave two fucks about him.

I get my wage slip tomorrow, and it will be a flat month without any overtime in it, as i hope that it will just about bring me under the threshold as to which i can claim legal aid and be able to use solicitors in my fight to gain access to my son, although at this moment in time I'm confident that will be the case. It will be a tight month, and i will be just about making ends meet this month, it's gonna be crap but that's the way it will be, and I'll deal with it. So that is the first big question, will i get legal aid, or won't i get legal aid. If i can it would be great and means that things can proceed through the legal avenue's should it have to come down that road, but if not then I've got to look at the other options. If there is one thing that I'm open to, and that is the fact that without legal aid, i can still do it, and that would be either paying a solicitor on account on a monthly basis, or doing as much of it myself that i can and this will be the biggest challenge as i will have to go to court and fight my own legal battle's with an array of legal professionals. It's probably going to be one of my biggest challenges yet, but i think that with the right approach and commitment it is something that i can do.

The bottom line is that i never really wanted things to go down this road, and i want all the issue's relating to my sons upbringing resolving as quickly and as amicably as possible. In an ideal world my marital split would have been straightforward and we would have parted as friends and brought H up in a stable environment, but that's not happening, but hopefully at some point in the future as the scars of a messy split heal, it can also herald the start of a new beginning.

An absent fathers tale.....

I read an interesting online that had been published in the Daily Mail, and it painted the side of a loving, caring absent father, who was an absent father for a while through no choice of his own, and it shows what some people are capable of in their desire to hurt somebody else.

At the moment, I'm an absent father not through my own choice but through the choice of my ex-wife who for whatever reason she fits, has decided to decline me all access to my son Harrison, as she in her own words, can look after him with the help of her aged parents and the help of her friends, and 'doesn't need me about'.

I'll be the first to be quite open and honest admit that our marriage broke down because of two people rather than just apportioning the blame on one person. For my own part i became difficult to be around, sullen and withdrawn and quite often i would just go to work and i didn't be at home around my ex, and struggled with adapting to having a baby to look after as well, with the demands my shift work put on me. For the first time i got to the stage where i didn't want to go home from work, didn't want to spend time at home, and didn't want to spend time with my family, but on the face of it, we portrayed ourselves as the classic happy family, although the people closest to us, saw through the cracks.

Since we have split up, things have got a lot worse, and what was indifference when we was married, has escalated in to some horrendous arguments. Most of the time i have held back from responding to the provocation and hurtful remarks that have been made towards me, and there has been some horrendous things said and done, but these remarks have been made towards me to try and provoke a reaction. I have only responded once to the provocation i have faced, and that was after a jibe from her mother about my deceased father, and i regretted what i had said as i gave them reaction they wanted, but it has been a hard road to go down, as even something as simple as collecting or dropping of my son H leads to abusive remarks being made about me and my family, provocative comments, derogatory comments, general put downs and criticism of my parenting skills, the accusations, and other things.

I'm a big lad, and i have been around enough to be take to take a bit of stick and dish it out, but there are boundaries and the boundaries have been crossed, to the extent where i have had to endure offensive comments about my sister i have been told I'm a waste of space who will never have a decent job or do anything with his life, been told that my parents don't do anything or even care about H, when my father has been dead for the last 8 years, and then there was the coup de grace, when i was told 4 days before Christmas that i was not to see H any more, and at the same time that his life would be better if i hung myself.

What i don't and what i do understand is why it has had to get to this stage. I think when it comes to a relationship breakdown, there is a lot of advice out there, and some of it will be along the lines of resolve your differences for the sake of a child, and then some of it will be fuck the other person, take them to the cleaners and try and punish them for the breakdown of the marriage. With the benefit of hindsight maybe my marriage was destined not to work out, but it is over and next month will mark the passing of the first full year since the decree absolute coming through.

At the moment I'm trying to get legal aid to see my son, and it is quite honestly looking unlikely that i will be granted it, and even less likely that i will be able to afford the solicitors fee's to get access to the family courts. I can't afford this going down this route as I'm already under a lot of pressure financially, with paying a full mortgage, maintenance, car, and a whole other range of bills which leave me with very little each month. So therefore until i get either get legal aid, or get enough money together to pay for the solicitors bills i have no real hope of gaining access to my son.

This hurts, and it hurts more than people would think. Absent father to most people are fathers who don't care, fathers who run away from responsibility, fathers who don't care about their kids. It's a stigma that society puts on people, and a stigma that is completely unwarranted as there are lot of absent fathers who would love access to their children, but can't due to the actions of the mother of their child. If you think that I'm a deadbeat Dad, then i would like you to spend a day in my shoes, and it's not pretty. I can't go anywhere because as soon as i see a child the same age as my son, i think of H, and what he is like now, and what i am missing out. I can't look at photo's on Facebook of my friends kids as it brings it all back that I'm not seeing H, i have had to put all the photo's of H that are around my house away, I've had to put all his toys and stuff in the shed out of the way as it is too painful to see them, and the hardest thing is seeing a brand new bike that was bought for him by sister as a Christmas present gathering dust, as I've still not seen him before Christmas. You can try and hide from it, but the bottom line is that not seeing Harrison is like walking around with a ghost on my shoulder, and it is a ghost that is always there and someone that will never leave me, because i still love my son, i know he is still alive, still living, still breathing and still very much a part of me, although he is not there any more, he is still there, and i think that maybe i could have been able to handle it if he had died as a baby a little bit better because there could have been a bit of closure to it all, instead of having to get up every morning and love, and think of a child that i will never be able to see.

Keeping and Losing New Years Resolutions.

At the turn of the year, I'll be the first to admit that things hadn't gone the way i would have liked in 2011, so the mission was on to change things in 2012. There was no great goal for me, just a series of broad ideas and things i could try and do, to shake off the effects of an unhappy 2011, and make 2012, my year, and a happy year.

I worked a late shift on New Year's Eve, and got home at half past 1, where i drained 2 full bottles of red wine, ate a 14" inch Asda Pizza with god knows how many calories and minimal nutritional value, and smoked at least a dozen fags, whilst sat there, drunk, slightly overweight, tired and miserable. I also knew that somethings had to change, and knew that maybe it was time not to keep on making excuses and get a grip of my own life again.

I got up at dinnertime on New Year's Day, feeling a bit ropey, feeling a bit hungover and ready for a few hours of sloth, sitting on my arse doing nowt, before going to work and being in the same cycle all over again. But what i did was something completely different. I poured myself a large glass of dilute orange juice, put on an old pair of tracksuit bottoms, a waterproof jacket and my pair of running shoes, that was the legacy of my latest futile attempt at running, and then turned my iPhone on, put the headphones on, and went running.

It wasn't the most successful run, i think i did a left, ran 100 yards to the bottom of the road at gentle pace, coughing and spluttering all the way, and hacking some up some dirty greenies, as i struggled and gasped for air. I did the grand total of 1.8k (i know because during my new hobby, my iPhone is now my best friend as it gives me the music that keeps me running, and records how far i have run, and how quickly (or slowly in my case) i have run. Most of it was spent walking trying to catch my breath, whilst the running parts was absolute torture. I arrived back home 15 minutes later, out of breath, sweating and feeling worse as my legs ached, my chest hurt, and i felt shattered, but it may go down as one of the best things i have done in my life, as if i hadn't made the attempt to do that run, then i might never have done it, and that single decision could influence the rest of my life.

I went again a couple of days later, in driving rain and gale force wind and left marginally better, and was marginally quicker, and my legs ached a little less than the first time i went, and i felt a bit better than i did that first time, but what came over me the rest of the day was a small but noticeable sensation of feeling a little bit happier, a little bit healthier, and a little bit more alive. I didn't enjoy being out in the cold and the wet, i didn't enjoy struggling with the run, but the pain was worth the gain.

A few days later, instead of my third run i had been and had a game of football, where i was still showing the classic signs of the unfit, overweight heavy smoker, who thought they could still play, but in all reality was slow, off the pace and to be quite honest a bit of an embarrassment, but i did feel a little bit fitter, made a couple of more runs that i had done before and noticed that i didn't hurt as much afterwards than i would normally do.

When i did my third run, it was teatime, and the Blades were at home that night, i could quite easily had my tea, watched telly, facebooked or tweeted until it was time to go to the match, but i had to go for a run, i had done two already and felt better for them, and i didn't see why i should let them first, painless efforts be in vain, so i decided at 5pm, i would be out on the street, trying to get and stay a bit fitter. I went out and did it, i was still slow, still coughing and spluttering but i got in a rhythm, and instead of doing 1.8k, i decided to keep straight on, instead of turning left and heading home, and try and do a longer run. I thought i might as well do it, as what did i have to lose, and as i went straight on, i felt mentally stronger, a little less physically weaker and more importantly i wanted to do it. I ended up doing a mixture of running and walking for the rest of the run, but i had challenged myself to do that bit more, I'd met that challenge and i felt absolutely superb for doing it.

It's not all been easy, and i have had to keep up some motivation to do it, tell myself that i need to do it, and force myself to get out there at times, whilst at other times i have felt an urge to throw on my running gear and just run because it is what i want to do. The thing is after nearly 4 weeks of this new fitness regime, I'm enjoying it, I'm feeling a lot better in myself both mentally and physically and in a way I'm doing something that is positive with my life. The greatest thing is the benefit that i feel from my new found running hobby. They are multiple, i feel stronger, i feel healthier, my breathing is better, i feel mentally stronger, i feel happier, I'm eating better, I'm sleeping better and i wonder why i didn't take up this before.

As i am 34 years old, and have not been in fit since i was a teenager, it is quite a bit step for me to take up a challenge like this, but I'm enjoying it that i feel that at time i have to reign myself in a bit, not push myself too much at this early stage, and be careful to avoid picking up injuries that will stop me from making the progress that i have recently made. The challenge now for me is to continue with my running and set myself a real goal. I'm toying with doing the Sheffield Half-Marathon in May. It is too soon to say if i will keep this up for long enough to be able to do the Half-Marathon, or that i will be able to do this in 4 months time, but it is a challenge, and it is a goal, and if i manage to do it, it will bring me a lot of benefit, but to be able to cross the finish line, having achieved it and done something worthwhile with my life will be one hell of a great feeling.

Now, i feel that I'm beginning to get a bit of control back over my own life and my own destiny, and that is one thing that is incredibly empowering

Depression in Sport

On a bright November Sunday morning i got up after a restless nights sleep, with a few personal issues going through my head regarding my divorce and my son, and my head was a bit of a mess. I felt tired, lacking a bit of energy and focus, but showered and got my head right for work. I took the train down to Nottingham, had some banter with one of the blokes in the office about the previous days football, and then went down to the messroom to grab a coffee before i did anything at work.

I got in to the messroom, dumped my work bag, and made myself a coffee, and saw a driver who i talk to about football quite a lot called Tony, well talk about football a lot, he is another football nut, and i think we was started to talk about a dodgy penalty at Old Trafford the previous day, when i half heard something on the news, about some tragic news from the world of football. BANG, the news ticker said 'FAW ANNOUNCE WALES MANAGER GARY SPEED HAS DIED AGED 42', i can still remember what it said word for word, because the chill that went through me will live with for a long time. BANG, my mind was in racing, how, what, who, what the fuck. BANG Gary Speed has died BANG ex-Blades manager has died. It was one of those moments i was absolutely speechless, and i made my excuses that i needed the toilet, walked out the messroom and stood in silence on the top end of a deserted Platform 5 at Nottingham fighting back the tears and wondering how the fucking hell has Gary Speed. I went back in to the messroom where everyone was talking about it, and sat down and started looking at the news on my iPhone to try and compute some sense in to it, and find out what had happened. BANG Gary Speed hangs himself BANG Gary Speed, Suicide BANG Why, why why?. Slowly through the day i managed to keep it all together and work, but with Gary Speed never far from my thoughts. I remember going home that night and sitting on the train thinking about it, not far from tears, and when i got back to Sheffield that night, i turned Radio 5 live on, listened to the news and drove home sobbing, not just for Gary Speed, but the cruelness of the disease of the human mind that is depression, and still in complete and utter disbelief of the death of someone who was the classic case of the last person you would have ever thought would have committed suicide.

I thought a lot about Gary Speed during the following days, remembering the wily old pro who joined us from Bolton, remembering the bright young coach on the staff at Bramall Lane, and finally Gary Speed the manager who to be quite honest and frank wasn't a great success at the Lane, but on reflection the club was a fucking shambles and very few managers would have enjoyed success. It was whilst reflecting on his time as manager that a few things started coming together. One was a radio interview i had heard where it seemed that he didn't know how to sort out the problems at Bramall Lane, and it gave me a real insight that he was either out of his depth, or he didn't have confidence in his abilities. Something else that i picked up without prehap's realising it at the time, was how downbeat and uninspiring he could sound at the time. Possibly it was something that you could be critical of at the time, but to me reflecting with the hindsight of Gary Speed taking his own life, maybe he was suffering from depression at the time he was Sheffield United manager, maybe he was masking it and hiding the truth, although the truth will never be known to anyone apart from one person, and sadly that one person never disclosed the truth and took it to the grave with him.

During the past week, there was a fascinating and insightful programme on BBC about Depression in Sport, that was hosted by Andrew Flintoff, where he, and other spoke open and candidly about the depression that blighted their lives, and it came out with cold hard truth's. The most fascinating person to appear was Steve Harmison the former England fast bowler, who i remember being called 'a puzzle in a riddle wrapped in an enigma' such was the fluctuations in his form. I remember Grevious Bodily Harmsion on his day being the best fast bowler i have seen in my time watching Cricket. Seriously fast, and unplayable on his day, but his day was not often enough, and more often than not you would see him bowling poorly, erratically and ineffective, with all the negative bodily language that you can throw a cricket ball at. I'm no anthropologist but looking back the fact that he spent time during his career suffering with depression is no great shock, and he must have spent years like that.

Sportsmen are the last people you would expect to suffer with depression. Young, fit adults doing something that the majority of people would want to do for a living, but top level sport is the people at the very top of the game, and this brings unique pressure to perform at the very top of the game, and put every single last ounce of effort in to achieving sporting greatness, and when they pull up short, it can be a depressing thing. In normal life if you are suffering from depression, you can hide away, but once you cross the white line, and playing sport at the highest level there is nowhere to hide, and maybe when you want to hide, the attention on you is magnified.

Within the world of Football, there is now money and pressure involved to such an extent that it is literally a pressure cooker, and results mean everything, and a mistake could end up costing million upon millions of pound. Instead of your legacy being somebody who put everything in to being the best they could and known for the amount of effort or professionalism you gave, you could be the man who would be known for eternity for a mistake you made, or for costing your team a victory. Throw in to this the blanket coverage that Football receives in the media, the way that during the internet age, whatever you do, is examined instantly on forums, facebook, twitter and various other digital media and social networking sites.

With the huge number of football message boards about, the one player that plays for my club that springs to mind is a loyal, hard-working if somewhat limited midfielder called Nick Montgomery, or Monty as he is known. Monty joined Sheffield United straight from school, made his debut for the club at the age of 17, and 11 years on is something of a stalwart having clocked up somewhere in the region of 400 appearances for Sheffield United. I can't recall a single appearance where Monty had not put a proper shift in, i remember Monty dislocated his shoulder and then turning out again the week after as the side needed him, i can sadly remember seeing Monty subjected to abuse week in, week out, and i have seen him absolutely slaughtered on the Football Forum's time and time again. Imagine Monty reading some of the stuff written about him, it could absolutely destroy his confidence, send him spiralling in to depression, and for what. Earning a decent wage and putting a shift in. It's a sobering thought.

After watching the Depression in Sport documentary, i thought that it would be a good topic to blog about, and today's news about Dean Windass making 2 suicide attempts and suffering from depression gives me a good example to use as i finish this entry. Here was a bloke who earned good money, and got a decent living out of the game, but has been unable to cope with the end of his career. His 18 year marriage has ended, he has not got much money left out of what he made out of the game, suffering with a alcohol problem and the vast majority of people will say it is his own fault, but the reality is that Dean Windass is still a human being, who makes mistakes, and has to bear the consequences, and as a human being is not infallable from Churchill's black dog of depression following him about. The simple reality of it all is everybody is a human being, with thoughts, and emotions all of their own, and the saddest thing is we are just as susceptible to this sad disease as the next person

7 years. Compare and Contrast

I'd forgotten about this blog, but have intended to continue blogging if you get my drift, so sat round on a Friday Night with nothing much to do, i thought i would revisit it, and then try and start doing some blogging again. I'd always enjoyed enjoy entertaining the idea of doing it, enjoy the writing, and somehow i managed to become side tracked along the way.

What was interesting is how much my life has changed immeasurably during the 7 years, but sometimes i feel like i'm another crossroads in my life 7 years on, and the more things change, it become quite apparent that the more things stay the time. To mark my comeback in to the world of Blogging, i'll try and do a recap over the last 7 years of my life although there is quite a lot to go at.

Looking at my blog, the one thing is that strikes me is that i was a single lad at the time, and enjoyed going out on the pull, and the thrill of the chase. Well seven years has changed a lot of things, and my perception of relationships. Roughly a year on from my last blog update on here, i went out on a Sunday Night for a few beers with one of my mates, and i met Joanna who quickly became many different things to me, my soul-mate, my best friend, my girlfriend, my lover and i loved her lots, maybe too much, but as time passed things changed. We got engaged after a few months, it was a drunken engagement in the back of a black cab. We was talking about if we would ever get married to each other, and one thing led to another and we got engaged there and then. We bought a house, ended up getting married and having our son, Harrison, but somewhere along the line it started going wrong, we both fell out of love, took each other for granted, and ended up drifting apart to the extent where the end was inevitable and it came after less than two years of marriage. Not long after i split with Joanna, i started seeing a girl called Laura, and it was great, i'd moved out of the family home, got a new flat and a new girlfriend but at the time i couldn't see that it was too soon to enter a relationship after the breakdown of a long term relationship and i called it all off before Christmas 2010. It was one of the hardest things i have ever had to do, but it was the right thing to do, and relationship wise i have been single and happy for most of the last year. I'm not actively seeking a relationship, but it would be nice if one happened along the way. One big difference is my attitude towards relationships, and one thing that showed me the change is the fact i had a couple of one night stands last year, and the sense of pride, not being able to wait to tell the lads about another notch on the bedpost was replaced by a sense of self-loathing and disappointment with playing with someone else's emotions as well as my own. Maybe it is maturity, or seeing things with a bit more clarity. Back to my marriage break-up. It was a difficult situation, but the one thing that did surmise it perfectly was the fact that i had planned a monster session with the lads to 'celebrate' my divorce, but in the end when the decree absolute came through i changed my mind as i didn't get married to get divorced and felt a sense of failure, although i hold on to the hope that we can begin to start an amicable relationship for the sake of our son Harrison as it is what he deserves, and the bitterness and acrimony does nobody any good in the end.

Something else i noticed was my lack of enthusiasm for work, and reading between the line, back at the time, i was at some point going to leave the company i was working for, and more through their choosing than my own. I was working as a Customer Host on board a train, and earning good money for what i was doing, but taking too much time off work, i had too much of a casual attitude towards work, and was maybe taking the piss a little bit. Well 7 years on, i'm still there. I wanted to leave for quite a while but nothing came up as i was too lazy to look for something else, and i also was a dead cert for the sack at various time. I can't pinpoint when it changed, but i began to knuckle down, work hard and ended up having three promotions and now i'm a depot driver working at Nottingham Station. I've gone from being a potential sacking to being well regarded by my management. Instead of being off sick all the time, i'm very very rarely off work. I enjoy my job, enjoy working with the people i do, i see that i have got a steady settled job and going to work is a pleasure for me now, and i hope it stays like that.

Over the last 7 years, i had the best day of my life. The 9th of June 2009, when i had that overwheming moment where nothing else mattered, and i felt pure and unadultered love that only a new parent can experience. We had a boy called Harrison and i love him more than anything in this world. Becoming a parent for me was an experience that was full of hope, someone to take over from me in this world, somebody who i could hand down my dreams and aspirations to and take them over, and share the enjoyment of Harrison achieving the stuff i had always wished i had achieved.

One thing i wish i had done, and this goes back to another regret, but a lot longer back, is to keep a diary to record what i was doing at the time, and how i felt about things, because there has been a lot of stuff gone off over not just the last 7 years, but the last 34 years that seemed important at the time, but over the passage of time has been forgotten about and replaced with new memories. Looking back at my old blogs of 7 years ago, i find fascinating to compare and contrast with how things are today. In a way if i had continued then a blog with 7 years of entry's could be the same as 7 years worth of stuff scrawled away in a beaten up old diary.

If this turns out to be my last blog for the next 7 years and i come back to it at the age of 41 (sobering thought as at 27 when i last blogged i didn't realise how quickly being 34 would come around) it will be interesting to see how life was in Jan 2012, although all i have done with post is to try and recount a few things from the last 7 years, without going in to much detail so far in this post. I will try and paint a more accurate picture of how things are at the present time in future posts if i get around to keeping it going for longer this time.

I'm not sure what i will be putting on here in the next few weeks, but what i will endeavour to do is try and write about whatever takes my fancy, be it about football, life, politics, current affairs, music, what i've been up, or what i've had for my tea (salad if your wondering, i'm on a health kick).

Thankyou for reading, and until next time, take care.

Brownies Guide To Working As A Butlins Waiter Pt 1 Man At Work

1, Tips

The first, and most important thing of going to work is earning money, and tips can supplement this big time. First off all colour code all your tables, you will usually get 8 tables of 4 and they all need colour coding

Purple - A rarity, a middle class family who appear to be affluent and are polite at all times. Must be served as prompty as possible, must be given large portions at all times, extra soft drinks for the kids, and polite small talk must be made at all times to talk them in to crossing your palm with a purple piece of paper.

Brown - Be nice to these people, usually the sort of people who have bought their own council houses, have a bit of spare cash and are usually a good laugh. Tell them a few tame jokes, try and find out which football team they support and set them up with a big breakfast when they come in on tips morning (the last morning they are in the restaurant before going home). A good result is a Brown Piece of Paper crossing your palm on tips morning

Blue - The people who have scrimped and saved for a while to be able to afford a Butlins holiday. Be nice and friendly towards them, but i urge caution in going over board with these as they can occasionally be over-rated and can be in the Silver category.

Silver - The people who are council-estate level, usually with a couple of embroyonic Chav's in tow. Give them the Tomato Ketchup and fizzy pop but don't bust a gut to swiftly serve them and neglect the table with a higher colour code. Pensioners also fall quite firmly in to the Silver category but can often be unpredictable and end up being any given category. Silver is also an automatic rating for guests from places such as Wolverhampton, or South Wales

Black - The table that is easily identifiable as not being of the tipping sort. Usually complainers or uber-council estaters. Don't make any effort towards them, and concentrate on serving the higher rated tables, and serve the Black tables when you have a happy section of people eating. If a table is foolish enough to declare themselves as non-tippers then insuborniation is perfectly acceptable, any requests other tha basic things should be met with a clear no. Swearing is also allowed but ensure that no name badge is worn during the 4 lettered tirade.

A booster to your tips can be having a birthday, if you tell them its your Birthday at Breakfast then they will furnish you with cards, small gifts and more importantly bonus tips which can mean the difference between a night in skint and a night of refreshment. If i totalled up all the birthdays i had between 1999 and 2000 then i would be aged 124 now.

2, Morning set up.

You have to be in work at 8. The previous night ensure that all the equipment you require for morning set up is carefully hidden in the restaurant the previous night. Should the previosu evenings events mean that you are late for work then it is a total fucking pain in the arse finding cutlery, plates, cups and saucers to set up with. The staff lockers are a reasonable size and the more astute waiter should fit the required amount of equipment safely in to 2 lockers. When you arrive in to work set up should take no more than 15 minutes. After you have set up then assist another member of staff if you are that way inclined. For the more professional waiter a trip to the gents which doubles up as the staff smoking room is in order. A relaxing 40 minutes talking about shagging birds, football and getting pissed whilst the Restaurant numpties are struggling is usually order of the day.

3, Eating On Duty.

According to management this is a strict no-no. However you are supplied with aprons with big pockets at the front and can usually be used to store various foodstuffs wrapped in napkins for later consumption. The risk-taking waiter can also try a eat in the restaurant behind a dumb-waiter but extreme caution is urged in taking this activity.

4, Sabotage

A favourite game of the more jocular waiter. A stunt which can be played on the more highly strung members of the waiting on staff with highly amusing results. The best method is to decend on their section 5 minutes before the sitting is due to start and try and remove as many items from theor section before they re-emerge from the kitchen. When they return and there is cutlery and crockery missing left right and centre they usually explode with rage so a safe distance is required for maximum enjoyment of the trick.

5, Getting finished

You can usually get finished a good hour before you are supposed to finish. The trick is never go in to the kitchen empty handed and works a treat when the last person leaves your section of tables and all you have got to do is wipe your tables and sweep the carpet with a dustpan and brush. A good hint is to forego the use of the dustpan and brush and just pick the big bits up. Do not under any circumstances tell the supervisor that you have finished your section or you will be required to help the restaurant numpties getting finished for an unspecified time up to and including an hour whilst you could be engaged in other activities such as knocking a couple of pints back or sat on the throne with the paper having a long, and relaxing shit. Remember teamwork, you are your own personal team and it is your mission to make you team better than everyone elses team.

6, Getting caught out

First rule is deny all knowledge, and the second rule is make up some bullshit excuse. Never divulge your movements or intended movements to any of the following

- Restaurant Supervisors or Managers
- Security guards
- Numpties you want to avoid
- Ladies unless you want to sleep with them, then disclosing your future movements can be of benefit.

7, Kitchen Porters

They are not nicknamed dishpigs for no apparant reason. When you have dealing with the dishpigs you have to clear your trays which can be a major hassle. Simply wait until the aforementioned dishpig is busy, wait until his attention is taken and leave a full tray there waiting for him whilst his attention is taken and move discreetly away from the scene of the crime.

Can't think of a succicent title!

Why, oh why do i only ever post on here when i have had a drink.

Prehaps its because drinking at home is not a good idea but very relaxing, i don't paid until friday so i had the bright idea of buying a bottle of Jack Daniels, a bottle of coke and 12 cans of Carling on my credit card on saturday, the end result, i can have a drink when i finish work, or i could have had a drink after i finish work at home if i hadn't supped the lot in 48 hours. Still, at least i have enjoyed it even if i haven't actually physically done much apart from play a load of Poker and post on my favourite message board.

I've also learnt prank calls are seriously not funny when someone plays one on you and absolutely fucking hilarious when you play one on someone else. Someone played one on me earlier and i absolutely fuckin bobbed my pants when a west indian voice came on the phone and threatened to blow my kneecaps off and i thought shit, what have i done and who have i rang up. Someone let on a bit later and i got it, in true Yorkshire style i labelled them bastards and resolved to get my own back. Not decided how but it will happen.

Wasps, i've been in a reasonably good mood that summer has come, but that good mood has been offset slightly by the probability of the uk wasp population significantly increasing during the summer months, annoying the fuckin shite out me, especially when i sit in the beer garden delivering pearls of wisdom and several insights only for it all to be scuppered by a sodding wasp. Another unanswered question is why do wasps fail to exist in winter, whilst the rest of us a freezing our collective knackers off, Wasps must be in hibernation away from all the cold, prehaps they just transport themselves to sunnier climbs where they rest and relax for a few months before coming back to the uk and getting down to the nitty gritty of annoying everyone in sight.

As for people viewing my blog, please leave me a message just to let me know that you have seen it and pass the word on. I don't know how people will feel about my inane rambings but if i amuse one person then prehaps it might be worth it.

Anyway, enough for now, i'll probably post something else in the next few days. Don't get your hopes up as it will probably just be a load of shite again, but hey i'm just a shit machine and i'm regular with it.

Have i missed the boat.

I looked in the mirror today and saw a 27 year old man looking back at me, instead of Brownie the lad and it has been a kind of kick up the backside for me in the sense that i have realised that i have done anything, really pushed myself forward and done that well for myself since i was well 16.

Its got the stage where most of the lads i grew up, most of the lads i know and most of the lads i work with are all now concentrating on buying house, getting married and having kids and sometimes i feel like the last musketeer, propping the bar up, getting pissed and making a dick out of myself in generally most walks of life.

I think the problem is that i still live by the macho rules of my teenage years, where great kudos was placed on your own personal capability in drinking loads of alcohol, having sex with as many women as possible and showing off all the time. All three things i think i'm still guilty off and probably this is more fool me.

I hate my Job

i hate my job

Does anyone want to offer me a new one

Please!

This year.....

So far this year has been a much of muchness and much the same as last year without a big family bereavement and a big disciplinary at work. Been doing too many hours at work, been spending an inordinate amount of time on Sheffield United message boards, getting too drunk at Sheffield United matches, and got a new interest in my life. In keeping with the sad existance i sometimes lead i've taken up internet Poker, sometimes with some success and but mainly 'm just breaking even.

Well first things first Sheffield United appear to be cocking it all up again this year. Been to quite a few games so far and in each and every one i've been aboslutely bollocksed at the end of the evening and in most cases i have made an arse of myself. The stunts i have pulled include visiting an ex who had been texting me quite a bit after i had spilt up with Jemma, guaranteed action i thought provided i retained the ability to copulate and Mr Softee hadn't come to town. The fact of the matter was i never got the chance to test if i was able to copulate and she sent me home as i stank like a brewery. Me being me never reached my destination and ended up calling one of my mates who just happened to be drinking in town, and as luck would have it i had to cross Sheffield to get home. To cut a long story short i ended up hammered in flares and to make matters worse the proverbial ten-ton tessie was photographed getting off with me and the picture has been circulated. I've done loads of other stupid stuff whilst in the ultimate state of refreshment after Sheffield United matches, including falling out with friends and family, falling over, and making a general arse of myself. I've been resolving to improve my post-football behaviour but it just doesn't seem to be happening and my right hand seems drawn to a pint pot. Like it or lump it. I go to watch Sheffield United matches, end up steaming, and make a arse of myself.

Jemma is now a footnote in my life, another bird who came, i kind of fell in love with and it ended up going a bit Pete Tong. There has been loads of lasses over the last few years. Brummie Sue at Butlin's was one i can remember well. A couple of good months shagging about went out of the window as i became loved up, she loved me for all my faults, which at the time was (and quite possibly are now) numerous. I remembered Sally and the long hot summer of 2003, the nights up at hers when she played a game of how long could i watch Buffy for before falling asleep as i wanted sleep with her, sex was the price, as it happened it was counter-productive as on more than one occasion i ended up having sex with her imagining i was having sex with Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Sarah Michelle Gellar was great as well. As it happens i saw Sally the other week in the Leadmill, she took great delight in being all over this bloke right in front of me trying to get a reaction, i did nothing and recieved a drunken 5am answerphone message from her asking me how i was getting on. The one big co-incidence in the splits between me and Sally and me and Jemma has been both have been pre-empted by away fixtures with West Ham United.

I just know this is going to turn in to one big depressing blog about the failure of my lovelife, and fuck it, so be it.

I had a one night stand the other weekend, its funny that i had one, the older you get and wiser you are, the more you feel like you have used and abused as well as used and abused someone else. I don't know if it this is the right way to feel about it though, sometimes i just think a one night stand is two people satisfying mutual needs of having sex. If it is then its great, lets have more one night stands, let the world shag themselves and each other stupid, just as long as i get the chance to shag Sarah Michelle Gellar, Cheryl Tweedy and get to have Joss Stone as a thirtyith birthday suprise.

My best mate Les is getting married in a couple of years, he has just got engaged and i have been harrassing him about best man duties to the point where i have self-appointed myself although i reckon he will ask Michael his brother although there is a good chance i could be chairman of the stag party committee. I'm not saying anything about it but i think Les knows that a stag night organised by my good self will probably involve some high jinks fuelled by a high consumption level of Alcohol.

Thats enough for the time being although there should be some more stuff coming through soon, or as soon as i can get round to it.

Does losing matter???

I've been to see Sheffield United play Ipswich Town earlier, 18 months earlier i went out on the piss with my Dad, he used to be a big bloke who liked nothing more than a few beers and Crystal Palace, we drank all day and went back home to his and had a couple of Whisky's, he ended up throwing up all over the place, i took this absolute piss out of him for it.

A couple of months later it had got worse for him, he couldn't keep anything down, never mind beer, he couldn't keep a slice of toast down, that persuaded him to go to the doctors, who refered him in to the hospital as they thought he had nothing worse than gallstones.

They performed a minor procedure to remove the gallstones but couldn't find any, they then sent in him for a scan to find the root of the problem.

The scan showed a large tumour on his Pancreas, this had blocked his bile duct and caused him to be sick, this was a week before Christmas, they fitted a drain to remove his bile, as the tumour was causinfg a blockage of his bile duct, it made no difference as it still made him as ill as hell. I was unwell that christmas with flu and felt somehow guilty being not very well at the same time.

In the first week of Janurary he underwent a procedure called Whiliples where they removed the Pancreas, and when they did that they discovered the tumour was cancerous which was what we already suspected, however the cancer had spreaded to his gall bladder and his liver.

Now the only hope that he had was that the cancer didn't spread whilst he was recovering from the op.

Sadly thar didn't happen, it took a grip and i watched him day in and day out, his mind giving it all to beat this disease, his body not responding. I honestly thought it would turn out ok, and decided not to see him for a few weeks as he didn't want me to see him without his dignity, but i spoke to him every day to see how he was, and try and talk football and cricket with him.

I got a phone call one night at work, i had spoken to my Dad and known he was really weak earlier, it came from my sister who was in tears, my Dad had been rushed in to the Palliative Care Unit at the NGH, and i finished work that night and rushed straight there and watched him die thanks to Pancreatic Cancer 24 hours later.

He was 54

When i look at what happened over those weeks, and i look back at the result this afternoon, i couldn't give a toss about the result to be honest.

Skint, bored and waiting for payday

Well that basically sums up my current predicament. I have got £40 left to last the month out until i get paid again and have given myself a daily allowance of £5 a day to buy food, fags, bus fare and the like. I was a bit crazy when i last got paid, i spent quite a bit on clothes, had a full on new years eve drinking session, as well as a couple more when i have been to the United matches.

Been in a decent mood over the last few days, been relieved to have gone back to work, and i feel more like i did before i went through all the hassle of my Dads illness and death and it has been good. I suppose i look back at my old man now and see him as he was before he fell ill rather than the sick man on his death bed. All in all it seems like i have regained my zest for life again.

Good news on the Cricket front, England beat the South Africans today in a tight finish. Just as it was starting to get good i had to go to work but kept in touch with the latest score on WAP, and did a secret clench fisted when i found out we had taken the last wicket and won.

Trying to get to grips with Bluetooth on my phone, i didn't know how to use it until last weekend when Les brought his new phone to the match and kept on messing about with the bluetooth, i started messing about with mine, and found out how to search for devices so i keep on searching for devices for no other reason apart from curiosity about how many people around me have the capability. Yes sometimes life gets that interesting.

Not seen Jemma for a couple of days, it has been a major killer working all the time and trying to find time to see her. I don't think we will be able to go out this weekend as i have only got Saturday off, and she is working on Saturday night on her placement so that means that we will have to have a night in together one night after i finish work.

I've tried to swap my annual leave weeks around today so i can take a week off next month and go to Cornwall for a week to see my old friends down there as well as combining the business of watching Sheffield United at Plymouth Argyle with seeing my old friends in Looe. I've got a couple of uncles down there as well so it will be good seeing them.

I was listening to the Radio earlier and they have a little feature called Changing Tracks, where someone tells the story of how their life has changed and the song that helped change it, i don't think i have really got one but The Killers seem to have played a bit of a influence. The state of Indie music at the moment is good, there is a band that are starting to become big called Kaiser Chiefs who are excellent and i shall be buying the album in due course as well as making an effort to see them in concert.

Anyway more gubbins to come soon........

Management

I heard this morning that someone has been sacked for making comments about their management in their weblog.

I would just like to put it on record that i think my management are very very nice people!

Now, where is that pay rise and promotion!!!

So i have been back to work a couple of days now and what has changed, pretty much nothing and almost everything if the truth be told. I seem to be enjoying being back at work though.

It's been early to bed all week, no staying up all night having hours on end watching television, no endless hours on the PS2, and i've not seen Jemma yet this week. She has texted me sympathizing about my early starts although i will be texting her when she is doing her night shift on Saturday night and i'm out bladdered after Sheffield United v Brighton

When i have to be up at god knows what time in the morning why on earth people think it necessary to call me after 10pm, this happened last night. I heard it ring but let it ring as i deemed it not important enough to let go until the morning, however the person who called me decided to leave me an answer machine message and i had to get up and out of bed to recieve the message, it was one of my mates calling me to see if i could get them a cheap train ticket for when United play West Ham.

Sheffield United have drawn West Ham Utd, it will be a good day out, free cheap train travel for me, plenty of beer all day, a great win for the Blades and wondering who Sean Bean will bring with him this time after Nicholas Cage appeared at Millwall.

Not a great deal has been happening though in my own sad little existance otherwise.

My Highly Reccomended List

- Shameless
- Brigette Neilsons Mammery Glands
- Filling in my application form for the Weakest Link
- Full English Breakfast in Kings Cross
- Farting (had a belly ache when i got up this morning which went after i performed the said action)
- Social Interaction

Not so reccomended

- Trainspotters
- Wednesdayites invading the Unitedite message board and filling it with abuse
- Alarm Clock's
- Having a big nasty spot on my forehead that seems to get worse every day

Anyway until next time, laters