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


…. 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.

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!

Automation in Public loo’s


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.


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.