E & J - Daddy loves you and misses you!

I actually typed this post over 12 months ago but with the ex-wife experiencing one of her mania periods it seems a relevant time to post it.

When my ex-wife decided that our marriage was over, packed my belongings, removed me from the house and moved her new lover in, I knew that I would miss my kids. I don't think I ever realised just how much.

I love my kids. I hate not seeing them everyday. I need to see them more. Feeling half full is no fun.

My friend asked me....

...if I wanted to go on a speed dating evening.

"Yes, bring it on" said I, "I may as well be rejected by 40 women in one night as well as one."

"No" she said, "just be honest and you'll do fine."

So, I thought about it. In summary I have 1 minute to introduce and sell myself. Within that minute I have to be honest. After careful consideration I have come up with the following,

"Hi, my name is Spencer. I am a slightly neurotic, deepthinker with a tendency to overcomplicate my life by dating whilst still under the influence of others. I love wine, cheese, olives, literature, art and more wine. Do you fancy going out with me?"

What do you reckon my chances are?

My new love is a little bit sexy!

Well, it was bound to happen at sometime. After moping around for too long I got myself out there and found myself a new love.

This new love is a little lighter then the last one, a little bit smaller but, equally, as sexy. In fact I would say she is a real head turner. She fills me full of wonder and awe. She gives me the capacity to learn new things and delve deep into my consciousness.

I love her.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I give you my new love,

Feeling a little bit broken......

I learnt all I know about women from my dad!

I must have typed this whilst still under the influence of alcohol and left it as a scheduled post. I'd forgotten all about it until I saw comments coming in. I did think about taking it down but, instead, I hope you enjoy it:

The other night I got a little drunk with my dad. One of the drunken ramblings went a little like this:

"I loved her dad. I loved her so very much."

"I know you did son. You gave it your all but, it's time to move on."

"I know dad. I just wish I knew what went wrong."

"Sometimes, you never will son. They're a breed apart."

"I loved Han you know, son?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, the first, and only, woman I've loved since your mum."

"Then why did you finish it?"

"That Doctor was sniffing around - they're probably married now."

"You mean Phil?"

"Yeah, I had no chance against him. Good looking, good job - it was just a matter of time before I got the old heave-ho. I let her go so she could be happy. They are probably married now."

"But, Han never went out with Phil? She didn't see anyone after you - or at least not for a long time."

My dad thought for a while, then looked at me and said,

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, dad" I replied.

Although, on reflection, I maybe feeling a little more like this....

Just lately I've been feeling like this....

It can take a moment to shatter a child's confidence but a lifetime to fix it!

Last night I was drinking and today I'm suffering. So, as I lay in my bed I grabbed my phone and took a stroll around the blogosphere. It is rare that I look to extend the blogs that I follow. I don't follow many but, the ones I do, I love and I can devote the time to reading them but would struggle with many more. Today, I stumbled upon a new blog, and a particular post, that was clearly moving for both the person writing it and for me reading it.

The post was by Some Mothers Do Ave Em and can be found here. The post tells, in a very moving way, the concern of one mother for her son. It made me cry a little - so please go and read!

It also triggered a memory of mine and, if I may, I would like to take you on a trip into my past. To the period just after the the ex-wife and I had split and the hostility levels were such that I felt uncomfortable attending the school parents evening with her. However, I did have concerns for my daughters education so I contacted the school and asked if I could pay a visit some other time. They duly obliged and I arrived at the school early one morning for a one to one with my daughter's teacher.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask:

1) How can it be that my daughter has suddenly gone from the top of the class to the bottom?
2) Do you think that she may suffer with dyslexia as she seems to be finding it very difficult to pick up reading?
3) Do you think her confidence has been dented as a result of my split from her mother?

I'd asked the first two questions and, whilst the answers I received would turn out to be totally incorrect, it was the answer to the third that changed my perception of this particular teacher.

After I asked, "Do you think her confidence has been dented as a result of my split from her mother?" the teacher looked at me and replied,

"No, not at all. In fact I have had to tell her not to put her hand up to answer questions in class as no-one can understand her." (As well as the dyslexia my daughter suffered, in the early days, with a speech impediment).

The answer to this question came like a blow to the head from Mike Tyson. It winded me. I looked down at the small table, to the ground and then around the classroom. I was in a daze. I looked anywhere but, at the teacher. I was shocked to hear such a thing. I was angry. I looked down some more trying to compose my thoughts. I stayed like that, motionless on the outside, furious on the inside for what seemed like an eternity.

I looked back up at the teacher. I didn't mutter a word but my face must have told the whole story. She sat back in her chair. She looked a little apprehensive.

She looked into my eyes and the apprehension turned to worry. She could see that I wanted to grab her by the hair and throw her around that classroom! She could see that I now, firmly, believed that she was the root of my daughters cracked confidence.

I didn't throw her around the classroom - the fact I had been brought up to respect teachers wouldn't allow it. Instead, I stood up, thanked the teacher for her time, shook her by the hand and walked out.

I felt shaky. I sat down on a concrete step and started to cry.

I knew then that the confidence of my daughter had been fractured and that it would take many a long year to rebuild it.

I love my little girl.

It made me wonder.

Having read Tatties post about the thin veneer of domesticity displayed by dogs I got to wondering where, if I had been born a dog, would be my status in the pack. (Don't ask me why I would ponder such things, just accept that I am a little bit weird!)

When I was a kid, and was allowed to choose a puppy, I didn't want the pushy pup, or the barking pup, the aggressive pup or, even, the playful pup. No, I wanted the oddball that was on his own, the pup that was less confident then the others, slightly uneasy on his feet, some would say a little gangly. The other pups would push him around and he would just look at them, let them get on with it and think to himself, "hmmmmm." This pup didn't push himself forward, he didn't bark and he didn't fight. This pup was the runt of the pack.

Having considered it now, I realise that I wanted the runt because he was a reflection of me!

What would you be?

Is it strange to love a tree?

I pass this tree everyday on my way to work. Normally, I am travelling too fast to stop and take a photograph but the other day I was stuck in a traffic jam and managed to take the picture below.

In truth it does the tree no justice at all but, I still love this little tree. I love the way it stands on it's own, it stands tall, it stands proud, it watches as the other trees bend in the wind. This tree, however, always maintains an air of dignified grace.

Whilst you cannot see it this little tree is home to a beautiful barn owl, a family of field mice, two hares and a vole. No common ore garden squirrels are allowed near. No, this proud little tree has his standards - and those standards must be maintained!

This little tree gives me a lift on my way to work. This little tree makes me smile. This little tree wipes away the gloom.

I love this little tree!

World Mental Health Day

This post was meant to be published yesterday but, due to issues with my internet connection, it is here today:

When I was seventeen I sat with a group of my friends in the crematorium watching as one of my friends lay in front of me in a coffin. As the coffin passed into the flames his girlfriend shouted out,

"I still love you, R."

At the time I thought to myself, "You selfish bastard, R."

But, the truth is this wasn't the act of a selfish man. Instead it was the act of a lost soul. The final act of someone that had lost hope and didn't know where to turn. How else could you blow your mind out in a car, in the middle of car park, in the middle of Coventry?

A few years later my ex-wife would complete her studies and became a Doctor of Neuroscience. Or as I would affectionately refer to her "a fruit and nut Doctor".

But, the truth is she wasn't a fruit and nut Doctor as I so eloquently put it. She was instead a doctor specialising in the chemical imbalances that can naturally occur in the brain. I was the misguided fool as she would so often point out.

Move on a few years and I would witness the nervous breakdown of my friend and work colleague. They were sad days. One of my, less likeable, colleagues would tell me that, "they had tested him and he was found wanting."

But, the truth is he wasn't found wanting. The truth is he cared so much that he let himself be dragged down by a project that was failing. It was the systems of my employer that were found wanting.

A few months later and I would suffer myself. I had a few setbacks that all seemed to come at me at once, some would say I had my annus horribilis. It felt as if I had lost my footing on the ladder and at the same time someone was stamping on my hands as I clung on to the rungs. It was a rough time. I found myself feeling lethargic and yet at the same time I had to be active. My chest was pounding and it felt like my adams apple had moved an inch higher and was trying to choke me. Words floated around my brain like killer bees stinging my being and leaving emptiness where once there was joy. I didn't feel in control of my life or my destiny. On a number of occasions, and by different people, it was suggested that I sought help for depression.

I was worried - enough to consult a doctor. Enough even to consult my ex-wife! As it happens I wasn't suffering depression. I was suffering a blue patch that everyone goes through. I'm still not entirely through it (my adams apple still seems to move during the night!) but I am getting there.

But, it was enough to give me an insight, a glimmer, into the pit that is depression. I can only imagine how awful it must be to live with this illness and I can only be grateful that I don't.

For a proper insight into how Mental Health issues affect people go and read Dicky's post (unfortunately, my Internet connection still isn't working so I can't link the post but you can find Dicky on my blogroll).

I went on a date!

I'm finding this dating game more and more difficult. After the disastrous encounter with A I'd decided to turn celibate for a while.

However, I met a lady at a bar (she was a friend of a friend) and we hit it off straight away. Things were going great. We had a first date, quickly followed by a second. On the second date there was the first kiss - it was nice.

On the third date I picked her up from her house. This is where it all went downhill. I asked to use her bathroom. At this point I didn't know I was anal. In fact I thought I was anything but anal, however, when I saw her toilet I could have heaved. I realise now that I am anal when it comes to toilets! My toilet is regularly scrubbed clean - the rest of the house may be a mess but my toilet is spotless! Her toilet, however, was caked in brown limescale. Even though I only wanted a pee I couldn't force it out - my stomach was churning.

So, I just flushed, washed my hands and walked away. I then descended the stairs where she was waiting for me. She reached out for a kiss and - I couldn't! I avoided the moment as all I could see was the filthy toilet - I found myself disgusted at her toilet and her!

Now, we have had date four and I cannot bring myself to kiss her. She asked me, "Do you even like me?" and I answered, "Yes."

I wanted to say, "Yes, but please clean your toilet!"

Either she's as mad as box of frogs or I am?

I was on my way to pick the kids up tonight when the ex-wife phoned me,

"E doesn't want to see you and J is poorly."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Look, I'm not judging you but I think they are."

"What do you mean judging me?"

"Well, how many girlfriends have you introduced them to in the last year?"

"Err, well none actually."

"Yeah!, there are 3 that I know of."

"I haven't introduced anyone as a girlfriend. I introduced J as a friend as I did S and A."

"The kids aren't stupid!"

"What? J and I didn't show any affection in front of the kids and S and A are exactly what I said - friends!"

"Yes, well the kids don't want to come. Goodbye!"

She then hung up!

Am I out of order?

Struggling!

I've been struggling these past few days. I don't really know why but, I do know that when work gets on top of me everything else seems to become an issue.

I have decided to find more time for myself but, time to myself can be a little lonely.

I guess I still have a lot to learn.

Just lately I've been inspired to cook.

Despite the fact I seriously considered becoming a chef when I left school I've never really done any cooking of note since. Sure, I've made the odd roast dinner in my time but nothing exceptional.

But, I think that is all about to change. Something has awoken the desire inside me to cook. I'm not really sure what has caused this explosion inside of me but I have been watching a new cooking show lately. Here is a picture from the series:

For the life of me I can't understand why this particular programme has reignited the desire inside me - after all I think that cake looks awful! What can it possibly be about this programme that attracts me?

A story about a boy who is, just a little bit, like me!

If someone had asked me yesterday,

"Are you scared of heights" I would have answered,

"Yes, I always have been."

But, that wouldn't be the truth. I haven't always been scared of heights. In fact I can remember the exact day and moment when my fear first appeared. I was about 4 or 5 years old, about the age my boy is now, and had been on holiday with my parents when we visited Portland Bill. My father and I decided it would be a good idea to climb to the top of one of the lighthouses. In fact it was this lighthouse:

When I had climbed about half the stone stairs to the top I looked out the little slit window on the side, saw how high I was and panic descended upon me. My legs turned to jelly and I refused to go any further. I collapsed to the floor and clung to those stone stairs as if my life depended upon it. It was the most awful feeling. Up until that point I never had a fear of heights - since that point I have been constantly fearful of them.

Today, I witnessed the same fear awaken in my boy. He had climbed to the top of a very tall slide, when he arrived at the top he took a look around, his legs turned to jelly and he refused to move. I had to climb up and carry him down. The feeling inside me at that very moment was just as awful as the feeling I experienced all those years ago.

I would love to know if there are any methods to assist him overcome this fear - any ideas?