Whilst walking along the canal the boy said to me,

"look at that turtle Daddy!"

Turning to look I said,

"We don't get turtles in Enger......"

"Oh, right, yes, that turtle?" I continued.

The light at the end of the tunnel!

As I write this post I am waiting for an ultrasound scan. The last time I viewed an ultrasound scan I was filled with passion, love and, just a little bit of, fear as I saw, for the first time, my little boy playing inside his mothers belly. It was quite a moment.

Today the purpose of the scan is to identify the lump down below. However, I am no longer fearful as I am certain that my Doctor correctly identified the lump as a harmless cyst as the tablets prescribed to me on Monday seem to have done the trick and the lump is no longer noticeable.

Anyway, this is a big thank you to all those who wished me luck and urged me to attend the Doc's (if I'm honest the only reason I blogged about the lump in the first place was to give me the drive to attend the GP).

Post appointment note: I can confirm now that the lump is a harmless cyst - apparently it is common in men that have had the snip.

Agree or disagree?

"Nobody ever seems to remember that life is a game we play!" (Oasis)

I'm not sure if I do or don't.

I've been down this road before.

I've been travelling a lot with work lately. When I was on my way back today the satnav was directing me along a motorway I knew had been closed due to an earlier accident. So, I turned off the satnav and worked my own way home.

As I drove down one road I realised that I had been down it before. It was almost, exactly, 10 years ago to the day. I knew this road as I remember being in emotional turmoil the last time I drove down it.

I had recently split from the ex-wife for the first time (although we weren't married at that time). I had been hanging around with, purely as a friend, a lady that had been fostered by the parents of my ex-wife. Whilst it was never my intention I fell in love with this girl (H). I never told H this, not even when she held me close at a concert and told me she loved me.

So, the reason I was in turmoil? H was a messed up kid - in her own words she was, "shot away." She had suffered horrific abuse and it showed. So, there I was trying to work out whether to follow my heart or my head. As it happens I followed my head (which may not have been my smartest decision ever).

Given time I would get back with my wife and we would marry. H would be stood there
watching as we said our vows. I would never see her again after that day.

Perhaps, I should look her up?
Vows

A child of the Seventies!

I loved growing up in the Seventies, things were simple back then. We knew not of paedohiles, or weirdos, there was only the bogey man invented to keep us away from dangerous places. We spent our afternoons in the street playing with the other kids. Kicking footballs and playing tig - things back then were fun.

We had no cares and we ran free, just as long as we were back in time for tea. Every adult knew and cared for us. In turn we would care for those smaller then us.

And memories were set, ready to be released years later when your boy asked if you liked popping candy:

So, I found a lump...

It started with a dull pain in my abdomen,

that made me check,

and there it was.

It's probably, almost certainly, nothing,

but, I have to face my fear of Doctors and make an appointment.

It's probably, almost certainly, nothing but,

if I'm truthful,

I'm a little bit worried.

I'm a little bit proud - me! (Part two)

I think my ex wife has been a little concerned about me lately. I guess she knows me pretty well and has seen that I've been a little low and has been making efforts to lift my spirit. Firstly, there was the visit of C and today, when I knocked on the door to pick up the kids, she asked if I wanted to come in and meet K's kids.

We fostered K from the age of 13 until she left care as a 17 year old. Similar to C, K was a good kid who had been dealt a crap hand. She had been taken into care at the age of 3 and had been in and out of care until she arrived on our doorstep. I'm not exactly sure what happened to K (I stopped reading the kid's files as they made me cry) but I do know that she suffered significant and horrific abuse every time she returned to the care of her mother (which, sadly, was often).

K is now approaching 23, happily living with her partner and has 3 beautiful and bonny young children. To some this may not seem much but it is. When K came to us she had a real distrust of men. I found the first few weeks living with K to be really difficult - she was awkward, aggressive and made me feel like a stranger in my own home. However, given time, and the space she needed to settle, K began to trust me. When she left care K made me cry when she asked her social worker to thank me for, "being the first man that she had ever trusted." (I know I shouldn't have been proud of such a basic achievement - but I was).

I didn't really want to be a foster carer but I am so glad that I was. I am proud of the kids we looked after but, I am also a little bit proud of myself.

I love music!

It is strange how you can listen to a song all your life but only really understand it when you have experienced life - in all it's wonder and awe. That happened to me this weekend when I heard this song and thought, "yes that is where I am in life - not wanting to hurt anyone or, equally, be hurt."

Only in redneck country!

Can you imagine anywhere better to be sat resting then here?

I can! Sat resting inside this pub with a pint in hand:

Although, I am glad that I didn't arrive on a Friday as I'm not sure that I'd be too keen on the meat draw (and what is going on with the Xmas decorations? Don't they know it's July? Does Mansfield have it's own time zone?):

The British Countryside

I'm a little bit proud - me!

My ex-wife invited me round for dinner the other day (don't worry I checked the food for poison!). When I arrived a tall and, I would guess, rather handsome young man opened the door. I vaguely recognised the tall young man stood in front of me but it was the boy inside that I knew so well. He put out his hand to shake mine and said, "Hello Spencer, how are you?"

As I took his hand in mine I couldn't help but laugh whilst saying, "C, how are you? And what happened to your voice - did Mother Nature take away your high pitched squeal?"

Stood in front of me was C - a boy that my ex-wife and I fostered for a few years until he was able to find a placement nearer to his family. C was, like most kids I came across in care, a good kid who'd had been dealt a crap hand. I grew to like C - a lot.

C had been taken into care as a 3 year old when he was found, "stealing" stale bread from a neighbours bird table. He arrived with us when he was 11 and moved on when he was 14. Here he was stood in front of me and, despite all the obstacles that stood in his way, he is on the verge of success. He is about to sign up to become a soldier and, whilst this may not be everyone's career choice, I think he'll be great at it. I sincerely hope that he is.

Whilst I'm not claiming any credit for C I am really proud of the man that he has become.

Why do you blog?

I only ask this question as my motivation for blogging has changed significantly in the year or so since I started.

Initially, I started blogging as:

a) I wanted to get my thoughts down on paper. It was a form of therapy for me. As someone that is prone to thinking too deeply, I often find myself confused. I don't really talk to anyone about those thoughts so I decided to write them down in the hope that I would be provided with some form of clarity.

b) I wanted to record the events that happened in mine and the kids lives.

c) It was a form of artistic release (okay I know my writing isn't very artistic but it's the nearest I get!).

12 months later my motivation to blog has changed. I still write to clarify my thoughts amd to record the important events in my life, however, I also look forward to the comments of my blog friends. It is these comments that help me clarify my thoughts, to lift my spirit and convince me that I am, indeed, a good person.

So, to each of you, I say thank you and ask a simple question:

What makes you blog?

Sometimes, I think I've grown up...

...and, at other times, I realise that I'm still the same testosterone driven boy I was when just a wee lad of 15 (albeit with a little less hair).

Okay, some things do change. Back then it was all about this:



whereas now it's all about T's knees!

I fell in love this past weekend.

Or, perhaps, more precisely, I rediscovered an old love. This reclaimed love has inspired me, it has lifted me and as a consequence the void that, until recently, I held inside has disappeared.

This past weekend I rediscovered my love of literature. In truth I'd never really lost it but, I did lose sight of it. I think it happened when I indulged my morbid fascination with the Nazis and, realising I was never going to comprehend the mindset of a bigot, I pulled away from serious literature.

However, on Saturday I picked up a book that I purchased some time ago and headed out to the park with the kids. Whilst they played I read, when they ate I read some more and when they were asleep I read a lot more. By the end of Saturday I had devoured half the book and was planning a trip to the bookshop to obtain the sequel.

In the process I fell in love, just a little bit, with Lisbeth Salender.

Reflections of me.

At this time of year two years ago I started to date for the first time since my marriage failed. It had been a hard 12 months for me but I felt ready to move on. I had a number of first dates none of which felt right until I met one lady (L). We got on well but there was a problem - she was a divorce lawyer and at the time my feelings towards divorce lawyers created issues within our relationship and thus the brief liasion ended.

In November I would meet J. It's no secret that I fell for J. I fell for J big time and it happened quickly. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with J. However, this was no fairy tale and, for whatever reason, J didn't feel the same and the relationship ended in March.

Here we are in July and I'm dating again. I wasn't sure that I was ready, in fact I'm almost sure I'm not, but I was told that as long as I'm honest with the lady in question I'm not doing anything wrong - it would just be a case of us enjoying each others company. So, I was honest - possibly to the point of going overboard. I told her (A) that I'm not sure if this is a rebound relationship. She said that if it was then she would just have to deal with it.

Now, you would think that this honesty would put her off - it would put me off. Only it hasn't - in fact it seems to have done the opposite. I've just received a text from her telling me that she is scared how quickly she is falling for me. She also sent me a text the other day stating that she finds the contents of my head sexy. As I read those messages I see myself 18 months ago (I used to tell J all the time that I loved her brain - and I really did!).

Only here is the problem - I don't feel anything. It's not that I don't like A - it's more that I don't know how I feel. My head is like mush. When I receive a text from A, there are pangs of disappointment that it's not from J. But, at the same time if I can manage to set aside the aches I have inside I do like A - but that doesn't happen very often. Normally, I just feel nothing - just a void - a feeling of emptiness.

I'm not sure what to do. I don't dislike A and I actually think that if I could empty my soul and start again I would like her a lot but, equally, I don't want to hurt her (the times J told me that!).

So, please think for me, and give me advice, as I'm becoming to realise that I'm rubbish at this dating game.

So, I did it!

I went on a date (and not a rebound date either that left me needing a new dentist!). Okay, it wasn't the most successful date (we went to a tapas bar and after ordering she confessed to not liking Spanish food) but a date it was and best of all I was excited, I was looking forward not back. I may, or may not, see her again but I am starting to breath again.

Therapy

As I lay awake again I've made a decision and it is one that scares me. I have decided to see a therapist. The scars left by my divorce have haunted me for too long. I can no longer be held prisoner by the issues that arose. Wish me luck as I'm scared witless to admit I need help.

There once was an ugly duckling.....

wherever he went he was told to leave the town (which made him a little snappy)....

but one day he held his head so noble and high:

Words

I've always loved words. Strung together they can be emotive, moving, beautiful, raunchy, haunting and scary. However, I never thought I would find the individual shape of words sexy until today. I spent part of the day with my daughter's dyslexia teacher being shown the best methods to assist my daughter in her efforts to learn to read. The dyslexia affects both my daughter's short term memory and her ability to learn using traditional teaching methods. She is, therefore, being taught to learn the entire shape of a word rather then the composite parts of that word. In order to do this the teacher will hand my daughter a word, made out of wooden letters, and my daughter will run her hand around the edges. The process is working well and my daughter's memory skills are improving all the time.

In order to demonstrate the process I was handed the word, "love." as I ran my hand around the letter, "o" I had a stirring deep inside. I found the whole experience immensely sexy. It brought back recollections of other things that create similar stirrings in me such as:

Artwork (Picasso's Sleeping Woman),

Music (Lou Reed, Perfect Day),




The female form (and especially that bit of thigh between a skirt and a boot):

But, having said all that, I may just have wanted to nail my daughter's dyslexia teacher?