Reading Ray Bradbury

Its suddenly occurred to me that in my want to become a writer…… well even that statement seems odd now I have typed it out. Do i want to be a writer or do I want to write? It’s occurred to me, suddenly, whilst reading up on writing and writers, that I am so busy wanting to be a writer because something inside me has a yearning for it, that I’ve suddenly realised that I don’t actually want to write a novel. I’ve not got a good story in me, no big idea, no character I want to develop, nothing. So where does that leave me? I still want to write so i guess I must just follow the advice in the books I’m reading and just keep on writing. Get my blogs down, get my ideas down, develop a daily writing practice, read and read some more, all the things that as time goes on I’m enjoying more and more.

The joy I’ve just got from having discovered Ray Bradbury and reading the Magic he creates with his words, his ability to form a sentence like I would never dream of doing, has cemented my appreciation of writing and story telling that I never got when i was growing up. Reading was always such a chore and it never appealed to me which is why this is all a bit of a surprise to me now. I’ll not rule out never writing that elusive novel, as life is full of surprises, but perhaps I should look into the journalist route and write articles or investigate something and write this up, or write about my life in previous jobs….. I’m not sure, but its clear, I’ve not really thought this through for a long while. Is that a problem? No I don’t think so. Reading as I am now, about lots of successful writers it’s apparent to me that none of them really had a plan, they just wrote because thats what they wanted to do and i should just stop making excuses and get on with writing what comes into my head. More importantly, as many writers say, just write and write for yourself, doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I may have started this blog a long time ago under the pretense that I didn’t care if anyone read it, it would remain for my eyes only if necessary, but deep down, I suppose it does bother me slightly, what people might be thinking. When you have spent your life not being very creative in the arts world, to suddenly be creating a peice of work that will be judged and have opinion cast upon it, it’s a big learning curve for me. I’m over that now though. I’m just going to put some work out there and see where it takes me. You never know, I’m always surprised by the many twists and turns life has had in store for me, and I desperately need a hobby outside of work and family and kids, something i can dive into and take myself out of reality for a while. Pre my back injury, that was training, and martial arts of all sorts, but over the past few years and all my health problems this is becoming a more and more distant memory, of another almost forgotten past.

So in tribute to my new found love of Ray Bradbury (he’s the first person to ever get me to read and love poetry by the way ) I have just poured my unconscious out here without really checking, and now without proof reading with my limited knowledge of grammar, I’m just going to publish this, and to hell with it.

Publish…… go on…. stop pretending you’re just going to do it, and do it. Press publish

PRESS IT!!

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…. some time later

I’ve been away haven’t I?

Ok brief post, I have another son, Kip. He’s nearly a year old! More on that in a bit!

This year will be make or break for me on a this blogging lark! I enjoy it, but like I’ve said, life is bloody busy.

In a nut shell, I’ve been diagnosed with two chronic conditions, one of which is proving to be a right git to manage, had another lovely son, moved house, been back to that dark place, got stressed and pulled my back, again, oh, and got that really bad flu that everyone seemed to get.

With all this going on I’ve had little chance to write. Plenty of life stuff to fill my minds notebook with however. Plus I’ve decided to read more, which I’m really enjoying.

Going forward I either do this or I don’t, but if I don’t then it’s going! So let’s see, no more promises. I just need to make time for it or not.

Child 3.1

My wife is currently “With Child”

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I’m currently 3.1 in the child stakes, I genuinely must be mad, 4 children, really!! My wife is totally of the opinion that I don’t want another child, probably because I’ve been saying as much since poppy came thundering into our lives, with all sorts of medical pregnancy complications and the preceding 4 years and 324 days total handling nightmare that she has been, and while I love her for the independent nightmare she is, she often leaves us exhausted. Not only that, children are so very expensive, as my friend at work goes to great lengths to point out, quarter of a million pound expensive per child! The truth is of course that if you ever stopped to work out the cost of a child you would never have one, so I just must except that I’m probably never going to be able to afford that beach hut in the med and be happy with my lot.

So the wife thinks I really don’t want another child, so why didn’t I just say no? Well you can’t can you? and of course I’m not going to say no, why would I deprive the woman I love with her wish to have 2 children, no way. Why was I a little reluctant to have another. I think its the thought of the crying, and the dirty nappies, and the tiredness, and the crying and the dirty nappies, yeah mainly crying, tiredness and dirty nappies. I’m also 40, and not showing any signs of getting younger or slimmer, so that’s a contributing factor as well.

However, sitting there in the hospital, next to the woman I love at our first scan, her top pulled up and cold wet jelly applied to her belly, and what can only be described as a computer mouse type thing rolling over her tummy, providing us with our first image of the little human we have created. A black and white grainy image instantly recognised throughout the world. Its at this point that its all very real, and its at this point that its difficult to deny that once again, I am filled with immense pride, and, I am in love.

We are not quite at the 16 weeks stage, but both of us are desperate to find out what we are having. Lisa is sure its a boy as so many people have told her over the years that she will have a boy. But I hate to tell her that its definitely going to be a girl. Well I think so anyway, plus this will help with sleeping arrangements further down the line, this might just be the practical me wishing however. Lisa hates baby boys clothes anyway so what good will a boy be.

So through all the moaning and crying (on my part) I am going to be a father again, and the truth is I can’t wait, even though I just can’t ever see a time when I’m going to ever experience true, peace and quiet ever again.

Dedicated to Searching

Dedicated to Searching

Ten years served under her majesty’s crown as a prison officer, trained from day one, in the art of searching. Searching cells, rooms, open areas. Ten years of active searching, missing stuff, finding stuff, the cat and mouse game of chess, the offender with time on his hands, time to plan, scheme, plot. Then in my last year of service came the dedicated search team, the higher level of prison security search team training, taught by experts that have spent years perfecting their field of expertise. Explosive devices, weapons, adapted weapons, drugs, contraband of every description hidden in all manner of places.

I have searched in cavity’s no man should ever have to look in, searching for things you wouldn’t believe fit into those cavity’s . .

Little did I realise that in retirement from the service, in peace time, on civvie street, in my own home . . . I would need these skills again!
For I have . . . ((a daughter)) . . . and damn it, she is testing my very searching skills to the ends of her Little Tikes premium cooking creations wood kitchen and matching accessories set . . . She’s good damn it, but I won’t be beaten, I’ll find every set of car keys, earrings and mummy’s anti children medication she try’s to conceal up dollies skirts and and in between the pages of the Gruffalo . . I remain unbeaten presently but am unsure of how long this victory will hold, I simply can’t afford to lose, the thought of being stood on my doorway one morning dressed ready for work and suddenly noticing I have no car keys is too much to cope with at 6 in the morning.

Little Tykes, how could you, you’ve basically created an inmates dream, a self contained, concealment paradise without the security bolts and anti tamper head screw tops. The fridge is currently her favourite stash hole, however the microwave and dishwasher have all been used in the past to squirrel away nabbed goodies. I’m already thinking ahead to the possibility’s involved in the matching salt, pepper and spice accessory pots.

I shouldn’t moan of course, this is only the beginning I’m sure, I’ve looked around the room and realised that Little Tykes is just the training ground for the real world. My house is just a big version of all things little tykes. Boys by the way, I can cope with, I have experience of boys, I was one after all. I hid stuff, sometimes not so well. I’m reminded of 10 B&H and a green lighter, oh and a pen Knife I stuck into my bookshelf before being promptly distracted by my mates calling round for me and then running out the door and forgetting all about them. I can still hear my Dad shouting for me out the window, the sudden realisation of what I had done slowly dawning on me, before the long walk back home.

Any one with tips help or advice for the future would be greatly appreciated . . . Prison life just didn’t prepare me for this level of skulduggery!

Detox day zero, before the detox!

Detox day zero, before the detox!

Ok so tomorrow I start 2015’s detox and diet attempt, I’m not using the word diet in the sense of going on a diet, more just changing my diet. I start off most years with good intentions to get back into training again and eat better, last year, or was it the year before, I forget, I did really well! But as with anything it’s far easier in our modern life to slip back into the old ways. It’s just plain lazy tho, everything bad for us is within easy reach, so when you’re busy it’s just so simple to slip and that’s when you’re back on your old path. The simple truth is that when I was training every day and fit as a dog, I was also knackered and had no life. I need to find that balance this time.

So the plan is a quick week long detox get the crap out of my system, then hit a balance in eating, good days and bad days, loose some weight then get back into some training. I promised myself I wouldn’t enter my 40’s with a massive belly so I’m currently running out of time. It’s basically this year or never. My fear is simple, if I enter my forties like this I’ll never change and I’ll run into all sorts of problems and die young, or never be able to rough house with my kids!

So how do I feel today? Like shit, I’ve eaten like a king all Xmas and new year, drunk loads and basically I have the energy of my children when you ask them to clean their room. If not worse, my children rarely crash on the sofa in the afternoon like I did today and not have the energy to play candy crush, I know, tough times huh!

I’m going to document my journey on my blog this time for two reasons, 1) I wish to blog more and this may force my hand and 2) I think writing down how crap I feel today and in general will remind me that when I’m feeling amazing on my new diet, I must not to give up and I must remember back to this day.

So Chaz of the future, hello, I speak to you with a desire to remind you of just how ill you have been December and in fact November 2014! You have had a cold on and off for the past two months . . You have dipped in and out of man flu status . . . You have struggled to maintain focus on nearly everything you have wanted to do. You have been borderline dead from the eyebrows down for the last three or four months, that coupled with the odd attack of depression and poppy running around with the energy of a small little league football team, it’s been hell, and quite frankly boring. Your skin is horrible, your guts are rotten, your gums constantly hurt and or bleed, your knees can’t take it no more, you’re basically nutrient lacking on every level except crap that you shovel in at a rate of knots. So no matter how hard it is, no matter how boring that shake is or that kale tastes stick to it for five days a week at least, for me old pal, just for me! Forty is coming, even faster for you because you are nearer than me, so this is it! No going back!

You don’t need empathy to support a depressed person

When a friend was hospitalized for appendicitis, people flocked to visit him at the hospital. When I was clinically depressed, some who knew it avoided me like the plague. But I completely understand — it’s natural for us to be afraid of the unfamiliar, including unfamiliar illnesses. And when it comes to depression, people are wary […]

http://karenwriteshere.com/2014/11/30/you-dont-need-empathy-to-support-a-depressed-person/

Automation in Public loo’s

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So I don’t usually moan, I’m your “it is what it is kind of guy” in fact I’m your it is what it is but how does it work and what’s the engineering involved in it kinda guy . . . . . But!

This year, I’ve been lucky enough to travel out to Las Vegas to get married. Whilst out there I did of course have the need to visit the odd public loo, or “Restroom” as they seemed to be called in america. Not sure why, I did not feel the need to take a rest in one. Now, I’m not singling out the US because more and more in the UK we find automation. Taps, hand dryer’s, flusher’s etc etc. But they did seem to be on everything out there.

Now I totally understand, especially in a public restroom’s why the need for less people to share is a priority. Some of the bogs I’ve been into in my time you need to wipe your feet on the way out. I’m reminded of the toilet in trainspotting as I type this.

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But here’s the thing, this automation, it has to work and It has to work well, and it has to work first time. I found myself flapping, waving, jumping up and down, you name it I tried it. As a bloke in the loo there is a certain protocol involved in going for a wee wee. You get in, you don’t talk to anyone, you get out! So to be forced to stand at a sink waving your hands back and forth in order to try and get water out or soap or some air to dry your hands is not ideal. You wave your hand water comes on, you go to wash your hands the water goes off, wave hands, nothing . . . .  go to turn away water comes on. Arrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. I still prefer the idea of automation in toilets it just needs to work please.