Day 260 - Sat 29th Sep - Kids and stuff

I've had my eyes opened. I shall never complain about my lot ever again (I will of course forget saying that almost immediately and revert to complaining soon after)

I spent the day with my best friends, their wives and young children at their new gaff in Marlow Bottom. I know it makes me chuckle too. Is there a typical 'Marlow Bottom'?. It's quite a genteel area, so a typical Marlow bottom i suppose would be pert and peachy. Good Waitrose diet and walks by the Thames. Different from a 'Llanelli Bottom', which would be more lunar and large. Bad Lidel diet and walks to the chippy, but i digress.

I saw in full 3D reality what it means to have lots of children under the age of 5.

In addition i received an email from another great pal who wants to run the London marathon next year for a cancer charity dear to her heart. She has 2 young kids, job, marriage and hectic life. She asked for help in a training programme, so i asked her to email me an itinerary of her 'average week', to target spaces in her diary to train.

I received it this morning. Fuck me, after reading it i was exhausted. How do you people with kids live?

Where do you have time for you, your partner, exercise, DVD's. Cinema, friends, running, shopping, Yoga, sex? Christ almighty i had to have a lie down. It was incredible. I've got it so easy. It's a wonder any of my married pals speak to me anymore, let alone read this blog.

Jesus, there's me moaning about how down I'm feeling, or my negative head, or being too busy, or queues in marks & Spencer or some meaningless Me Me Me crap, and there they are picking little Johnny up, dropping off at football practice, cooking tea, going to work, making packed lunch, stopping their kids eating plastic toys, making a living, running errands paying bills. My god - How do they do it? Respect.

I can barely manage clean underpants everyday let alone the rest of that stuff. What about all the attention from your wife being given to the kids and herself. Where would that leave ME in the pecking order? Oh no the thought of being shunted down the order is truly horrifying.

I had a great day though with my best friends and their kids. I was able to display my Uncle Nick routine, throwing kids around the trampoline, holding babies, feeding them cake before buggering off on my own to mong on the sofa and watch 'Place in the Sun'. Responsibilities over.

The only disappointment was that there were no women around to witness my tenderness with the kids to make their heart melt. I may have to borrow them to hang out at Starbucks on Sunday Morning on Kings Road. It's guaranteed to bag me some female attention. Maybe even more so than a dog. I mean a man with 3 young kids would make a woman's heart melt. I best have a word with my mates to see if i can borrow them for a few Sunday mornings this year. #Shallow. God, what if i had a dog also, I'd clean up. I'll work on that this year.

We had full on lunch with home made cauliflower cheese. In my opinion it's one of the 8th wonders of the world. We had good banter. The kids rather sweetly ate at a mini table and then we just hung out all afternoon. It's so quality to meet up with your old friends. I know we all move on in our own ways, i know people have children and of course their priorities change but you are still fundamentally the same people and if you have been friends for a long time you always retain that banter and kinship. I like it. I obviously can't tell the boys face to face because the unspoken male honour, pride and 'rules', But i love my old pals. The big bastards. Even if they did wear matching Red Dad hoodies that blended into the sofa.

I told the we boys if i won triple rollover i would sort them out so that they can get Nannies & quit work, not to make their life easier but so i can selfishly see more of them.

When the children started to cry and scream and get tired i knew it was my time to leave. I had great intentions to drop into to other friends but by now the clock was ticking on my exciting bachelor London life.

How would i use the freedom of being a single man about town?

Theatre, friends, clubbing, comedy club, Kestrel Spa? Nope. Mong on the sofa, Ryder Cup & Match of the Day for me. I'm just so rock and roll.

One final thought: What is it about Steve Ryder that all the top golfers play a tournament in his honour? I mean i know he's a smooth presenter and has the male equivalent of impressive Balding hair (Quiff birds nest) but is he really worthy of all that fuss?

Great day, boring night but for some reason just experiencing the kidsfest made me shattered. Brutal training in the morning and then Hinds Head triple cooked chips for lunch tomorrow. Nice

xx

Day 259 - Fri 28th September - Dentists, Benefit Cheats and Monkey Mind

It's Friday and It's been an exhausting week. I've worked one day so I'm really looking forward to the weekend to relax and unwind.

Long Run

Ran 5 miles along the River (beautiful) to Barnes for cuppa with a friend. Had a power juice (Ginger and Celery - healthy) followed by 3 cuppas and 4 camel lights. I then ran the 5miles back. Pretty sure you won't see that kind of mid run preparation in any training manuals or in Mo Farah's programme. I marvel at my stupidity sometimes.

Benefit Cheat

I think they are scroungers. A drain on resources and should be forced to work anywhere. 11am, opened a letter from the council saying they will assist with my rent until i find full time employment. Well i guess They're not that bad.

Dentist

It's been 4 years since I've been. My teeth hurt and i went with trepidation that i would need some serious work done. I hate dentists. It's the noise of the drill stuck in my head as a kid. Leaving a life long fear, though i do like the pink mouthwash.

I was examined, x rays taken and prodded so it hurt more. Turns out i only need 2 fillings and a new mouth guard (i grind my teeth at night like a rabid dog probably from all those years gurning on E's and speed). My teeth have been chipped and enamel broken off basically because of smoking, diet coke and intermittent bulimia in the past. All my responsibility.

Dentist said the teeth were fundamentally OK so i was chuffed. I celebrated by sparking up a cig and swigging a diet coke. Another partial success.

Why do i wait until I'm battered or something seriously wrong, or my backs against the wall until i change my bad habits? It's so absolutely stupid and i marvelled again at my twattishness.

Monkey Mind

That bastard negative Monkey was making an appearance in my brain again tonight. Told it to fuck off but it's a persistent little fucker. Anyone shed some useful tips on how to get rid of it? I've tried everything - here is a list. Some of them work some of them don't. Which one do you try?

Past Attempts

• Kronenbourg (temporary success long term failure - leads to man tits)
• Vodka (as above usually leads to arrests)
• Weed (failure leads to strong paranoia and temporary psychosis)
• Class A Drugs (Temp success believing you are the dogs bollocks long term failure believing you are a dog)
• Food binging - Failure leads to obesity and dodgy teeth
• Spending - Failure leads to car boot sales
• Sex- Temporary success long term failure tends to lead to the F Club
• Women - See above
• Endurance sports - medium success ultimate failure leads to large collection of Lycra and medals
• Water sports - See sex above
• DVD boxsets - Failure leads to late nights
• Therapy - Failure £70 an hour to talk about me? Sod that

Recent Attempts

• Praying - Oh god really? How dull, I'd rather eat muffins but it works
• Meetings - as above
• Writing it down - Involves that horrible thing called 'effort'. works
• Talking to it - can lead to insanity but helps sometimes
• Helping others - See praying but taking me out of me helps. so dull but true
• Health - The healthier i am the more positive. Not rocket science Nick is it so why do i abuse it?
• Friday Night Lights - Oh god yes
• Cross Training - Hurts but works
• This blog - as above

That's all I've got people have a tidy weekend

Me
xx

Day 258 - Thurs 27th September - Back to England

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Day 257 - Weds 26th Sep - End of an Era

Day 2 of the Mother and son Llanelli road trip.

Woke after a surprisingly good nights sleep in the twin room of the souped up Transport cafe B&B. Both mother and son slept soundly, though i had to manoeuvre myself subtly in the morning to hide 'morning glory'

I'm still getting over last night. Mind blowing. As amazing as Grace Jones' bits. Amazing Grace.

It was the Salad Bar with Doritoes, No veg so extra chips, everything fried in breadcrumbs, desert menu with pictures & massive portions that got me. Is it any wonder there is an obesity problem in Llanelli? Doritoes in the salad bar is right up there with my Uncle Ken going on a health drive by 'cutting out salt from my chips'. I don't make this up.

I hope I'm not being a snob as i love it all. It's me. I mean it's got more character, humanity and humour than The Ivy or other poncey places. Fact.

Our room was actually tastefully furnished, although it had the the staple B&B concertina toilet door. Making you feel you're in an airplane. You also had to pull a chord in the ceiling to work the shower and with the heating on it had the vague smell of an old people's home about it.

No matter, Barry the governor fussed over us at breakfast. Knocking up scrambled egg on toast. I asked for an omelet but he gave me the kind of puzzled look a dog gives when it sees itself in the mirror. He just couldn't compute. His mind was set to fried, boiled or scrambled. I think an Omelet was just a step too far. I settled for scrambled just like his mind. It was disappointing though not to see the salad bar open. I was craving Doritoes.

My Mum is very sweet and lovely. Always positive. She did come up with an ultra welsh line as we drove away. She said. 'Well the room was lovely & it was a nice breakfast. (trying to make it sound OK) CHEAP BREAD MIND.' Classic. (To be fair It was Aldi thin sliced bread at 19p a loaf though. Fair play to Barry it wasn't coated in breadcrumbs and fried)

We drove to the lovely Rebecca's in Gorseinen for her to do our hair. Top girl and very admirable. Like her alot. We passed a classic Welsh spa on the way which actually came up on the Ipad Google Maps as a landmark. The Relaxation Centre. We were expecting a grand centre like a church or big treatment spa with floatation tanks, gardens, zen. Here it was;

Quality huh. The Welsh Spa retreat (and B&B with concertina toilet door) - Certainly would be an experience going there. Not sure it would be relaxing though.

Then it was to Aunt Gwynies for an hour and half of 'nonversation'. Catching up on all the Dafen gossip. Basically lots of people have died, some have got Alzheimer's and the vicar is a bachelor (mmmm, i think there's more to that one) - It was so riveting that i fell asleep. I think that chat is for Welsh women. Us welsh blokes just nod and then sleep on the floral sofa underneath the beautiful ornate display - isn't there one in every Auntie's house?

After which it was to lunch. We passed a cafe, which after a moments thought, decided not to dine in. It's very popular locally to Dafen apparently, very Welsh, but we decided it wasn't for us on this occassion.

 

Basically it's a cafe in a static caravan. Pretty much sums Llanelli up for me. I Can't add to it. The picture says it all i think. Bet they do crisps in their salads.

 

Instead we went to the Retail park & had take away sandwiches from M&S. This is the point i truly entered into the world of middle age. I bought 2 cardigans. Yes i did. Really. Sensible haircut in the morning and cardigans in the afternoon. I draw the line at fur lined slippers but I'm on a slippery slope. Worrying.

 

We both commented how odd it was that we didn't have a base. A home in Llanelli. I mean we've always had Brymoor Road. Nan was always the focus for the visit and you always had that as a base. Now it is empty we felt as if we were mooching around. An odd feeling.

 

It was time to go to Brymoor Road to clear out the final bits. We waited on Mum's partner (hate using that term but boyfriend at 65 sounds weird) to arrive with the van, then we started loading up all the items saved to take away and sell or things to put in the tip. Finally we packed and the house was left totally empty.

 

 

That's when it really hit Mum. She was born there. She had devoted so much of her life to caring for Nan. Nan was so house proud and her home was everything to her. To see it empty was quite harsh. Very final. My Mum was deeply upset and quite right too. I wasn't tearful bit i felt emotional and numb. My job was to be a support. To be a rock.

 

This was the last time i would step foot in it. A part of all our lives is over. It's an end of an era. As i said it's almost been the spiritual centre piece of our lives and now it is over. The comforting thing is that i feel her presence. She is still here in spirit. You can almost hear her humming up the stairs. Never sitting down. Cleaning in her housecoat. Pulling a mint humbug out of the drawer or cooking Chops for lunch.

 

There are so many memories. They are in the important place. The heart. Not the bricks and mortar but tucked deep into our heart and soul.

 

I said some prayers. Marking the occasion and talked to her. I asked her if she was OK, that we were all fine down here, that there was a lot of love and that i will take care of Mum. I also asked her if she could wangle it so that i can make a success of writing & performing and that's too much to do, to sort us out with the triple roll over tonight. I know this isn't the done thing but i thought i'd give it a shot.

 

My Mum had hoovered the house, leaving it spotless (Much to my irritation as it will be sold in a week so whats the point? But i figured nan was proud how spotless it was, Mum is a world class cleaner so it's pretty fitting. Let people be Nick. Acceptance)

 

I then shut the door. Stepped back. Kissed my Mum who was deeply upset and off we drove up Brymoor Road. No nan waving on the doorstep until we were out of view. No bags crammed full of sausages and apples and kit kats she's palmed off on you, no return in a months time or plans for Christmas. An end of an era. 14 Brymoor Road. Sold. Gone. But never in our hearts. It will always be 'home'.

 

 

Nicholas Edward Evans

 

x

 

 

 

 

 

Day 256 - Tues 25th Sep - Back Home to LLanelli

Today was a very special day. I accompanied my Mum back home to Llanelli, South Wales to clear the final remnants of Me Nan's house. The plan was to spend a bit of time together, clear the final few items before the house is sold next week.

It has been her house for 73 years. It's been in all of our lives all that time. The One real constant. It was one of the things she valued, was proud of and loved the most. Her home. Her nest. 14 Brymoor Road, Llanelli.

Since she died on 21st June i havent been back. In all honesty i havent been too sad, cut up, grieving. I feel her spirit, her presence, smoothing things, guiding me. It's strange but i really feel her presence in my faith. She was ill for a long time so in the end it was almost a relief. The grieving had been done. I still feel her presence so that is why i'm not sad.

So when we walked in to the empty house it was weird. Odd. The 1st time in my life she wasn't there to kiss and welcome. 1st time there was nothing in the fridge, kit kats in the kitchen or asked 'how was the journey. what time did you leave?' It was an empty house with just her chair in the living room.

 

Looks sad doesnt it? But you know what i actually wasn't. It was unpleasant at 1st as there are so many memories. But it wasn't a home. It wasn't her. It was bricks and mortar. A home is the person and the love and warmth. There was none in this house. She was in us. In the spirit so i didn't feel sad or weird. But i was gagging for cuppa though.

 

Then it was time to assist in duties. I was chief chauffeur. I'd even cleaned the car out from empty fag packets and diet coke bottles, shoved in some air fresheners and windowleaned the ultra smoking fug from the windscreen in readiness for the duties.

 

1st it was too the physio for Mum. Obviously in Llanelli it's cheaper, so instead of the usual £40 for 30 mins, i think it was around a tenner. Took ages to drop her off though, there was a massive build up of mobility scooters out the front.

 

This gave me 30 mins to myself which i used wisely. Hitting a cheap sunbed for 7 mins (when in Rome) at one of my favourite places in Llanelli. It used ot be self regulated sunbed parlour (8 beds), now they have a woman who looks like david dickenson's stunt double tending the shop. She's class.

 

Then it was into the market for some cooked meat. I had rissoles in my mind all day and now was my moment. It meant i heard the immortal words "Lamb and Mint Cariad or Corned Beef". Brilliant Cariad is welsh for 'love' 'darling', it's welsh affection and sounds so poetic and gorgeous when said in a broad welsh accent, so to have it wedged in the middle of a lamb and mint or corned beef rissole made me happy. Funny.

 

Then it was back to pick up the mother, then drop her at the solicitors. I waited in the car smoking out the window surveying a collection of people walk against the horizontal driving lane looking thoroughly pissed off in an empty town centre surrounded by pound shops. It was a thoroughly depressing scene.

 

This picked up somewhat as the next on the hit list was Asda Llanelli, which is the nerve center of the earth. i love it. We were off to buy a lottery ticket as it's the luckiest place in the country, probably because more people buy a ticket there. In the 1st 2 mins i saw 3 mobility scooters, 5 leggings, 3 polish blokes, 5 obese men, 4 teenage mothers and a bodybuilder. Classic Llanelli. One old boy on the scooter who was slightly deaf was having a loud conversation with someone on his mobile phone about who actually phoned each other.

 

Then it was time to visit Auntie Jean and Mel. Jean's birthday 76 today and another typical Welsh mother from the old school. A true tiny teak strong welsh matriarch, making everyone happy. Her 1st reaction on being bought flowers was 'you shouldn't have bothered.'. Then she made a storming cup of tea (a must when visiting relatives you DO NOT say no to a cuppa) and had a nice natter

 

Me and Auntie Jean (birthday girl)

 

After which it was time to hit our digs for the night. Apparently my Mum had said she's found a top little pub/B&B in countryside outside Llanelli. It was where we were going to be sharing a room for the first time since i was 6 months old in a cot. The place was a little beauty apparently. At least that's how she sold it to me. Tafa Ny Deri. Sounded so enchanting, so beautiful, so welsh and full of character.

 

 

Turns out the original features were glass conservatories and Everest double glazing.

 

No matter my Mum sold it well and the rooms were actually decent, though the thought of sharing made me revisit my nocturnal habits. 'Busty barmaids 8' on the laptop will have to go.

 

We had a fantastic night with my 2 lovely cousins, Andrea and Alison & old family friends Sue and Mart. Proper fun, as they would say in Llanelli 'headcases isn't it'. We laughed alot.

 

We were told the restaurant was good and the food 'one of the top 5 in Llanelli'. This concerns me and may explain why there is a huge obesity problem in the town.

 

The place itself is the sort of place that has table clothes under a sheet of glass and paper napkins. It has the air of transport cafe with leather sofas. I'm not being snobby it was a genuinely bizarre place.

 

The menu was huge with a massive choice of dishes. They had a three for one offer before 6.30pm, so it was heaving. It was all mixed grills, various forms of chicken (mostly the same but with a different spice sprinkled over it) and various breaded fishes with cream sources. There was actually very little healthy on the menu.

 

I settled on 'Salmon Extravaganza', only because I've never eaten anything called extravaganza. It had lava bread (Welsh Caviar) and cockles and a snot like sauce.

 

The waitress informed us there was no veg after 6.30pm. This caused confusion as we thought we weren't allowed veg after 6.30pm. My god how committed to carbs and obesity were they? Turns out they'd run out of veg (How can you run out of veg by 7pm?). We offered to nip out and get some frozen sprouts, but were offered unlimited visits to the salad bar instead of the usual allotted one.

 

The salad bar was most unusual, it had a massive visor around it which made it almost impossible to access. They also had crisps in it. Crisps in a salad bar? Classic. Very Llanelli.

 

 

 

 Then the food arrived, looking distinctly 'Auntie posh'. You know the thing Aunties do to make Plaice and Chips look posh. Throw a sauce over it. Bizarre. They also came with More chips than i have ever seen.

 

Basically if you follow Paleo or Dukan you're fucked. They threw out the national nutrition recommendation of 30% carbohydrate and 70% protein and followed the 100% carb route. I should have guessed when they consider crisps a salad item.

 

Then it was time for desert, in Llanelli and South Wales most restaurants in pubs have the desert refrigerator. a vertical glass cabinet displaying cakes, gateaux, trifles and profiteroles. Another classic.

 

Luckily the place offered a desert menu with pictures. Images of the deserts. Not so much because they had unusual deserts that required visual assistance but i personally found it helpful to be shown what trifles, banoffee pie, lemon profiteroles and Chocolate cake look like.

 

 

A genuine classic and the reason why The Only Way is Llanelli. I love it and it's so good to be back

 

xx

 

 

 

 

Day 255 - Mon 24th Sep - Can i be a writer?

Three things amused me today;

1 - Heard a 40 year old man say that he went to his sisters place to babysit his nephews. They challenged him to a game of Fifa soccer on Ps3. He lost. So, instead of graciously taking it like a man. He went home, bought a PS3, practiced Fifa soccer so the next time he went round, he beat his nephews. They are 8 and 9 years old. Genius


2 - Heard another man say he doesnt give advice anymore, as back in the 70's he told his pal he shouldn't manage this band they went to see and had the opportunity to manage. 'They won't  amount to anything', he said. That band? Dire Straits. He retired from giving advice soon after.

3 - I heard a guy state that he was resentful of his partner on his 40th birthday. why? Becuase he had to do what his partner wanted to do all day. God i so identify with that chronic selfishness.

Day for me was spent doing a brutal outdoor workout in the park. 30 minute cross train in the rain. Harsh. Driving rain and gloomy on a Monday morning. Good job i'm not suicidal. Winter is here.

Buggered around doing stuff for my Comedy Club. I'm feeling the love for it but am a little daunted by how much needs to be done to make it a success. I want to make a go of it so lets see how it goes.

Wrote a report for my new company. Yes!!! Only took me 3 hours. Concentration is not my strong point, Procrastination is.

Then in the evening i went to my meeting in Trinity Road, which i dearly love. It's like my medicine. I'm a Lucky boy.

I had some news about my debut article for a friends new helth and happiness website. Apparently it's been read by 300 people and earnt me a few quid. He is possibly going to link it to the Huffington Post. Can i really make money from writing? Could i really be a writer? Only if i get a decent spell check.

Lots of people say 'have confidence in yourself', trust your instincts, your writing is good. I don't see it myself, that lack of self belief and inner steel has always been somewhat elusive to me. But why not go for it?

To get paid it has to be read by lots of people, hence why i am forwarding it to everyone saying 'Read It. Please!!!'. That caused me to be a little down on myself over the weekend, thinking it's too loud, desperate and uncool or humble, but you have to start somewhere. My dream would be to have a regular article that people are actually interested in, entertained by, identify with and in some cases help.

My strength as a writer is in accesability. Identification. I'm not clever enough for long quotes, long construction of sentences, stories and narrative. My strength i guess is that when i write it's as if i'm speaking to you. Why? becuase thats what i think about when writing. It's self expression with a twist of humour and if i'm honest i've read many aritcles, pieces and my wiritng has it's own style and is pretty cool stacked up next to those. I'm not trying to be something i'm not. I'm me in my writing. There are tons of proper clever, talented writers out there, and i wouldn't want to compete. So why not hey?

I'd love a regular article for a health magazine or something similar. I feel i have a book or two in me, but writing is like anything else, dedication, discipline, hard work. It's not that easy to write books. It's editing. it's hard. it's tough and thats before you even begin to try to get it published. So i'm not fooling myself, but who knows i may give it a crack.

It gave me a spring in my step. Made me think i could earn a bit on the side from my main job (when i get one) and at least write. It's not for the money. I enjoy it and of course the ego is fed a little when people read my pieces. But it's not even for that though really. I always have alot going on in my head and it's great to actually have an outlet to voice my voices! It's a release and when you write a great line, or a decent gag or even a whole piece you like, you get the buzz and adrenaline and you feel chuffed inside. I like that feeling.

It may come to nothing but sod it, why not keep a little hope in your heart to make the day a little lighter?

So my lovely readers, if you havent read it so far - here's the link. I know it's shameless promotion. i know it smacks of desperation. I know it's deeply uncool. But have a read, leave a comment, see what you think. It's not going to change the world, but it makes me feel good. I hope you do too.

http://www.dontmindlife.com/?p=1068

Off to Wales tomorrow to help clear out my Nan's house. God bless her. It's going to be weird going back to Brymoor Road without her there. I miss her. But it will be a chance for me and my Mum to have some quality time together, though i'm dreading sharing a room with her in a local B&B and i'm wondering how many times she's going to tell me to stop smoking and 'settle down'.

5-1 it's at least 8 times in 2 days but we shall see. I may put a fiver on at Ladbrokes.

I love my family. I love Wales. I love Rissoles, so i'm heading to the right place. I may even try to pick up a second hand mobility scooter. As readers of this blog will know Llanelli is the home of them. I can't wait. Report to follow over next 2 days

xx

Day 254 - Sun 23rd Sept - Nothing in the Tank

I'm going to be honest i can't be arsed to day. So it's going to be ultra short;

4 hours kip. Knackered
Early morning meeting. Painful
Training session cancelled - Raining
Sunday Lunch at Pub with uber top pal - disappointing grub, good company
Liverpool lost to United - bollocks
Rained all day - depressing
Hole in my shoes - wet
Lay on sofa for rest of day - immovable
Emailed Alistair McGowans agent to invite him to come practice at Comedy Chops - He lives locally
Ate mint humbugs and played with my cock - man thing (cock handling not mint humbugs)

**I'd like to point out it wasn't masturbation it was what blokes do which is generic and subconscious playing with your tackle. It's almost soothing and relaxing.

Bed

End

Yawn

(not the most interesting entry but i refer to my opening line)

Nite
x

Day 253 - Sat 22nd Sept - Heads Gone

Head's gone today. Don't know why. Don't know how but the fear and self loathing is on me.

It's that niggle in the head. Like an itch you can't reach. So many doubts. So many negative thoughts. So little confidence.

I was having a crisis of confidence in myself. In my writing. In my life. In me. For no apparent reason.

Oh god am i turning into one of those knobheads who seek approval constantly from others by posting relentlessly on Facebook and Twitter. Am i a joke posing with famous people and posting up? Am i losing real connection and life? Am i more concerned on living life to write my blog therefore making me miss most of life? Am i that lacking in self esteem and inner strength that i need constant validation?

Basically i was hating myself for getting excited about my article published on a free website. Like that makes me a writer? I was castigating myself for my comedy club, it's just a room in a pub. I was caning myself for my blog. and writing about Grace Jones and other subjects that people would probably rather be kept private. I was caning myself for writing about AA. I was hating myself for promoting my writing constantly. Please read this. Like this, read it, please please, me me me. Urgh i made my skin crawl today.

Sometimes sitting down with people (friends) who share so little interest or enthusiasm for what you are doing makes you believe that you're shit and it must be you. 'I'm a joke and just not good enough' was in a loop in my head like some kind of twisted radio station. Like Magic FM in my brain.

I feel like a small puppy running around trying to get a pat on the head. To get approval and i hate it. Thats what i view myslef as deep down and it's come to fore today. Yuk.

What to do about it? Give in and believe it? Go with it or try to change how you feel? Well i went for the later. How?

Ran 7 miles, brutalised myself, went to the gym for first time in weeks, got 3 people saying 'i've been waiting for you to come in, was that you in that advert'. Boost to the ego but even that sent me on a downer. It's only a fucking 4 second advert, like you're famous or something. Get real you twat. God, isn't my head so lovely to me?

I rang people, met business partner, smoked furiously, tried to write and did some work.

The phone didn't ring, which made me more miserable, of course in that state i wasn't going to ring anyone. Pride is a stupid obstacle sometimes isn't it? Basically spent the afternoon at my computer, working feeling pretty isolated, miserable and down on myself.

The party buzz is most definately over. 'Old Nick' is most certainly back today. The one who gives himself far too hard a time and talks to himself badly. It's my sodding head. Lets hope 'New Nick' reappears soon.

I wrote that at 6pm when i was in my misery. Now, it's 2am, i'm in my comfort pants and i feel different.

I've hung out with a really good pal, who listens and makes me laugh. I've been to the Bearcat comedy club and had a great night. Seeing 4 top comedians and a really well run club which gave me the urge to work harder at mine. I forgot about myself, grassed myself up and then enjoyed the evening. I felt the 'new' or 'good' me return. Bad negative me was let go. Thank god.

It's a strange thing the brain. Powerful. That savage self hatred is part of my alcoholism i think. I've had it for as long as i can remember. Before i had no defence mechanism or coping strategies. I would run for the nearest pub and drink my way through it. Now i turn to a fellowship but also to life and i find doing something that helps me forget myself does me the power of good. Good distractions not bad.

I am my own worst enemy sometimes and as they say, if you want to feel miserable, sit indoors and think about yourself all day. It;s Guaranteed to make you eye up the beams in your ceiling with a renewed interest. Fortunately i'm not in that space anymore. Today was most definately a game of two halves.

end
x

Day 22 - Fri 21st Sept - Did that really happen last night?

I've woken up plenty of times in my life and thought, 'did that really happen last night?' I did this morning.

In the old days when blackouts were a regular occurrence, i would wake up with that awful dread and feeling of 'what did i do last night?' You couldn't remember but you knew it was something deeply shameful or embarrassing. It was a stain on your brain.

Whether I was arrested, verbally abused my girlfriend, started arguing with people, or humiliated myself there was that growing feeling of 'did that really happen last night?' The answer was always 'yes', but fucked if i could remember how.

Then you had to go through the process of piecing the blackout together. The girlfriend of course would blank you as you were a real c***t the previous evening. You would have to send pre-emptive 'sorry' texts to friends apologizing for behaviour in case you were out of order, phone calls would have to be worded correctly trying to coax out what you did. You listened intently to tone of voice. If it was off you had done something wrong. If it was normal you were OK. Of course if you woke up in a police cell you knew the blackout was bad, at least the police interview would piece it together for you. It was Exhausting.

I loved drinking and blacking out as i thought it was an exciting adventure. Nothing actually happened in the exciting drunken adventure other than getting pissed & growing my lager man tits but in my head i thought it may end in rock and roll. It never did. The 'did it really happen last night' was usually of the 'me doing something wrong' variety.

When i got sober, at 28, i genuinely thought my life was over. I genuinely thought my life would be glum, boring, dull. That my laughs and drunken adventures were over. Forgetting that my drunken adventures were mostly dull as f**k. It was the worst thing that could happen i thought to myself. It's over. 'Did it really happen last night', would be consigned to the past. How wrong i was.

There have been so many times in the past 11 years I've woken up and thought, 'did that really happen?'. Some of them wonderful and some of them awful. Some of them fantastic and some truly grim. I could no longer blame the alcohol or blackout. It was all me and my superb little alcoholic twisted brain sometimes.

Point is the ratio has changed enormously over 11 years. Now the 'did that really happen last night' is usually good. There are far more goods to bads. It doesn't have to be something out of this world. It could be a family gathering, meeting loved ones, a great comedy show, a really fun night, feeling comfortable or amazing sex!

We've all had the 'did that really happen last night' mornings and so was my turn today.

I woke up and thought, 'did Grace Jones really show me her snatch last night?'. The answer was yes. She did. In Putney. In a party, In front of 12 people. In the living room. In Putney. I know I've said it twice, but it was a house party in Putney, I still can't believe it.

That kind of shit never happened when i was drinking. Yes i may have copped a drunken view or feel of a snatch in a pub toilet, but definately not from a Disco diva, world famous musician, bond girl and all round legend. Usually it was someone called 'Debrah', who wore leopard print leggings and ugg boots.

I remember watching Grace Jones on top of the pops, dancing to 'Pull up to your bumper' at the youth club disco, watching in 'A View to Kill', swinging hula hoops in the Jubilee concert. She was the last person i expected to see at a party in Putney. Man i love being sober. It rocks.

I'm pretty sure if i would have been drinking she wouldn't have clawed my chest and called me 'fit boy'. She would have clawed my chest and said, 'they're bigger than mine honey. I wasn't fit when i was drinking.

It did happen last night, i can remember it. It was of course odd, mad, amazing and class. I mean if you're going to throw a party with a classical pianist doing an amazing show at a penthouse overlooking London, you've got to have Grace turn up at the end to play her new album. Just to finish it off.

No, I'm a fan of being sober. Stuff like this always happens. It's why i love living in London. It's why i love being sober. It's why i love the total randomness of life.

Did that really happen last night? You f****g bet it did.

I better watch out though. I'm turning into one of those nauseating celeb stalkers you see, forever having their pics taken with famous people so it makes their life look better than it actually is. Rod Stewart, Clare Balding, Grace Jones. What next? Bryan Ferry in Asda Isleworth?

No the truth is somewhat different. I trained at the gym ,spent the day getting my hairy back waxed (God i hate that how do you girls put up with it?), did a meeting and watched Casino Royal in my pants whilst eating tins of tuna with salad cream. I reckon Grace's evening would have been somewhat different. She would have been eating hula hoops.

xx

Day 251 - Thurs 20th - Did Grace Jones really do That?

You know those kind of days when you couldn't have predicted the outcome? The sort of day that if someone said to you in the morning "this is going to happen later". You would say 'No way!'

Well today was one of those. I think in the terms of weirdness it's definately up there.

It somewhat matches snogging a supermodel whilst being more preoccupied with an ex girlfriend dumping me by text from a mental hospital, or picking a fight with a comedian in Balham train station dressed as Jesus. Even getting assaulted by a large girl in a Chip shop with a Saveloy couldn't trump this one. It was genuinely odd.

Today's blog is quite long but bare with me, the end bit is well worth hanging on for;

Candida
Before this, let me just tell you about the day. I woke feeling crappy, candida etc so i vowed to stop diet coke today (which i managed to do, my 1st full 24 hours in UK in months without the dreadful stuff)

Working
Ground out a days work in Essex, I do 1 day a week, but they are proper lovely people and a smashing set of people. I don't know much about Manned guarding and Security Services but i do know they are all quality people and it's a pleasure to spend a day in their company. Genuine people tend to operate genuine companies and they do a solid job. I like that. Plus they eat doughnuts all day long which makes me laugh. it's like Fat Sweaty Coppers in the Fast show.

Article on Website
I had my first article published  (unpaid unless it gets read by loads of people). On www.dontmindlife.co.uk - I don't mind saying it gave me quite a buzz. It looks the part. Even if it is just a free website. I chose my 1st article from an entry i wrote for this blog back in April. It's called 'How to Get Sober and Deal With Alcoholism'. It's a bit risky as it pretty much goes against the traditions of a fellowship i attend to help me stay sober and live life. Tricky

Moral dilema
I was torn. Do i publish and let it all hang out, so people can judge for themselves. What if someone reads it and it helps them? What if it allows them to go to a fellowship? What if it acts as subtle PR thing? What if it frees people up to identify with my story and tread the same path?

But then again, who am i to publicise an anonymous fellowship? It's done just fine for nearly 100 years so who the hell am i to blow it open? I don't want to be one of those ego maniacs that love the sound of their own voice and shout recovery from the rooftops. Nauseating.

I don't want it to be that i use recovery as something to write about because i haven't got anything else. I certainly don't want to profit out of it, as i hate counsellors, therapists and rehab centres who profit from other peoples problems.

I guess in the end i have to find guidance from the wise owls and follow advice. They will say you need to live by example not shout about it, that puts people off, not benefit from it, that puts people off, not use it as an interesting subject because you are not interesting, that puts people off.

I committed to this blog as a truthful exercise and i published the article because it felt true to me. It felt real, from the heart, like i think and speak. It was me on the page. I wasn't promoting anything, not selling anything, not talking about other people. It was my own thoughts and experience. If i had those in college or work then i would write about it freely. I am a member of a fellowship and that's just what i do. So why do i need to tailor it? It's me. It's as natural to me as cleaning my teeth, I hope i continue to do it, but if i don't and go back to drinking it will not be the fellowships fault, it will be mine.

Anyway onto the odd events of tonight;

The Party

Invited to a party at a pals lovely penthouse gaff in putney. His wife is Norwegian and her 2nd cousin is a Norwegian Concert Pianist and Comedian. What followed was something beautiful. The first time i have ever heard live and close up a genius classical pianist at work. It was awe inspiring and powerful. Each piece was a story in itself and he delivered it between funky comedy and stories in a delightfully Leary suit. It was magical. I am sold on classical music.

Grace Jones - Yes Really Grace Jones

So the party was winding down. My pal came over to say goodbye and showed a picture of him and Grace Jones. I said "when did you get that taken?" He said, "1 minute ago she's over there." I turned round and fuck my old boots, there was Grace Jones in the corner drinking champagne surrounded by people. What the f*** was she doing here?

Turns out she lives downstairs and knows my pals wife. They invited her and up she came. Grace f*** Jones, in a hat, heels, tight strides tucking into the Champers. In Putney. WTF???!!!

People were leaving, and she looked like she was about to. I had to get a pic and asked her. "OOOOHHH fit boy. you work out. Get down and give me 50. Boy" was the reply. "I am going downstairs to get my new album. Stay here. I'll be back." She barked, "Er OK Grace." I replied.

10 minutes later she was back and playing her new album loudly. "It's African voodoo theme and will exorcise you." She slurred whilst dancing around. Suddenly i felt distinctly nervous. I hate dancing at the best of times let alone with Grace F*** Jones.

She hid from people trying to video her, saying she wasn't make up ready. So after 5 minutes i bided my time and then said, "Come on Grace are you ready. Lets have a pic." She tottered over and started to button up her jacket. I said, "Don't hide away Grace. Grace Jones doesn't button up. Lets see you."

At which point she pulled her top down exposing her red bra and pranced around. She was a handful, if you catch my drift.

Snatch

She was prancing around saying "Gracey never hides, Look at all of me darlings". "You can see my little Hitler." I said "you've never got a Hitler.Show me". At which point she said "Yes i have darling"  pulled down her trousers and flashed her snatch.

Did that really happen in the middle of a living room with 12 people? Did Grace Jones really just flash me her snatch? I'm pretty sure i wasn't pissed on LSD or dreaming. I think Grace Jones just showed me her 'Hitler'.

We posed and had the picture taken (snatch was now hidden) then she pranced around more, slugging Champagne having pics with everyone. I was pretty speechless and left soon after in a sort of mute numb state of shock. It was 10 to midnight. I just made Grace Jones flash her snatch at me. That never happened when i was drinking. Definately one for the CV.

I reckon if i would have stayed around she would definately had tried to eat me. She's 64, mad as a box of Frogs, completely unique and scary as fuck.

From a Security company in Highams Park Essex to Grace Jones' snatch. Who said sobriety is boring?

Thanks for reading bloggers and yes it really did happen.

Me
x

Day 250 - Weds 19th Sept - Coming Out

Bad news. Candida back. I've had a great run since holiday when I've felt energetic, fresh, clear headed and optimistic. Woke up today with my old lethargy, dry mouth, fatigue, bloated and foggy head. Gutted. I guess it's my own fault. Sugar and diet coke fucks me, and I'm sodding addicted. I think it's time to make a massive effort to give them up for good.

I have loved feeling 'normal' and it makes such a huge difference. To revert back to my old self today felt dispiriting. The physical affects my mental and it all goes from there. Tomorrow i will try to change. I have to.

To make matters worse, the tan has faded. The party is well and truly over. Nuts.

Headline news today? Went to a party in the evening thrown by Gaucho polo at a swanky bar in Chelsea. This is how much I've changed. It was full of free cocktails, smart Sloane girls and a free bar all night. I felt uncomfortable. I was on my own. I felt grim and it took everything i had to actually go. I'm terrible for bailing out of things at the last minute.

Reason for going, well Gaucho have expressed an interest in doing Comedy Chops at their 02 restaurant, so i met the events manager. It's pretty exciting and could be great. I'll try not to screw it up and could be looking at doing 6 comedy nights there in 2013. The Chops expands. Bring it on!

I lasted 1 hour and couldn't wait to leave, get home, get into my pants and loll on the sofa. I know deep down I'm a dullard, but bars and Sloane's just don't interest me anymore. I would have been all over it a while back but now, for me bars, especially smart ones, are not for me. What a change.

I Was too tired to write my blog, so i settled down to watch Crazy Heart (class film) and then despite myself Love Actually.

It was at this point that i decided it was time to come out. To stop living a lie. To admit to myself and the world the truth. To stop pretending.

I officially like romantic comedies. There. I've said it. I've come out. God, that feels better. It's no longer a secret. No longer in the closet. I like them. I enjoy them.

Love Actually, When Harry Met Sally, Maid in Manhattan, Four weddings, What Goes in Vegas, all of them. Pure escapism and i really enjoy a good old chick flick. I mean i know Love Actually and Four Weddings are nauseating and pretty naff, they have Hugh Grant and John Hannah in them for Gods sake and Dido in the sound track, but despite all of that i like them. I can't help myself. No matter how much i deny myself and tell myself not to, i like them.

Dam does that affect my masculinity? My image? Does that make me weak? Am i gay?

I knew i was in trouble years ago (mostly after i stopped drinking) when i found myself crying at Rocky II. Then a Meg Ryan film. I didn't know what was happening to me. Then at various times on long distance flights I've found myself in floods of tears watching rom coms. Of course i blamed it on altitude but when a whole plane looks round at you for wailing loudly there's something going on.

I like them. They stir things up. Perhaps deep down I'm a soppy old romantic. Give me a good old love story and an emotional soundtrack and I'm a goner.

There is no shame in it. I am who i am. I mean don't get me wrong i like a class movie, i love French movies, i like brain dead blockbusters, action and yes, as most readers will know i have a passion for adult films of the more xxx variety.

But i also like Romantic ones too. I refuse to hide it anymore. I've come out. It's in the open. I watched Love Actually last night and i liked it.

My name is Nick.......and i like romantic comedies

End

xx

Day 249 - Tues 18th Sept - Friends Top Trumps

Awake after too little kip (again) meaning i didn't skip into the day. Lets get the dull stuff out of the way, here's what I've done;

• Signed on - I know grim huh but needs must for the time being.
• Put off a run for 7 hours
• Had an interview about a potential part time job (Rugby club)
• Received 2 messages saying 'i just saw you on the tellie' (Ego nicely fed for the day - what the hell am i going to do when it ends in 1 week?)
• Went to a 'test shoot' for a casting agency - Ended up being a rip off as the Italian photographer broke the news it would cost £390. I gently told him 'no thanks' and walked away. Looks like my search for world domination continues. On hindsight i wish 'test shoot' would have been different and i could have gunned down the little Italian fraudster
• Joined a dentist - my teeth are fucked
• Put off a run some more
• Went for a run at 6pm
• Lay on sofa for the evening watching Friday Night Lights unable to move. #monged (i know it's a Bit un PC after Paralympics)

That's it. There's not alot of action is there?

I've been watching loads of Friday Night Lights and it's so good. I've shared before I'm such an addict that when i put a box set on, i continually watch it one after the other until it's finished. I can't get enough. It's exactly like drinking, sex or Haagen Dazs.

But it's proper class. I've been in tears most of the time. Not just tears but proper wailing. You know head in the hands style. It's so emotional, There are so many heavy story lines about parent and child, absent fathers (always gets me) Manic depression (again) Alcoholism (finishes me off). Then great writing and story lines about friendship. It made me think.

You can rank friends in order. Almost like a friends top trumps.

Friends are well important. They are what define you as a person. If your friends are class then it probably means you're a decent person too. I've seen so many people who have flaky friends, egotistical, shallow friends, knob head friends, idiot selfish fake false plastic friends and it's grim. I call those 'fuckhead friends' and they rank low on friendship but high on getting you a VIP pass to a club.

Then You have 'Facebook friends', otherwise known as strangers but you need them to boost your ego and make it look like you are popular.

I know people who thought they have had friends only to see them leave in times of trouble. These are 'fun time friends'. They score highly on getting you drunk, snorting all your coke and eating all your food when times are good but very low on actually being there when needed. Otherwise known as 'wanker ex friends'.

I have seen people who find it difficult to make friends only to see them change radically as they added people to their lives. 'Life changing New friends'. They rank pretty high.

Then you have 'friends with beneifts'. That is technically is misnomer. Usually you respect and like friends but 'friends with benefits' or 'fuckbuddy' you don't respect, or in most cases actually like. If you just have sex and then immediately want to leave or watch Top Gear (or both) then they are not actually in the friend family. They don't make the list.

There is of course 'Friends Reunited'. See above. People you knew at school and hated so why would you want to see them again in adulthood. I guess out of a macabre interest to see how much weight they've put on or kids they've had by different fathers. But these are ones best to avoid. Afterall what if the class spooner has actually made it better than you? No you cannot risk that humiliation.

You have AA friends. People in same boat as you, who you don't even know their last name but you have a special kinship and unison with. You know they'd help you out in a shot and makes me well up every time i think about them.

And finally you have the highest ranking ones. 'Old friends'. The ones who have seen you through all kinds of shit, hairstyles, relationships. Life friends and they trump anyone. I have many of these and i am lucky. My old friends are totally superb even if they are all married with kids. You know they are rock solid and you love them in a manly bear hug kind of way.

True friends are hard to find. Fergal Sharkey knows all about that. But it's true. It helps to know What does a friend actually mean? Here's the terminology;

1. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.

2. A person whom one knows; an acquaintance.

3. A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade.

4. One who supports, sympathizes with, or patronizes a group, cause, or movement:

 

Finally you have the American TV show 'Friends'. Which is basically slow suicide. That doesn't make the list.

 

I'm a bit shit at keeping in touch with my friends. Remembering birthdays, christenings etc. I don't see my pals for long periods sometimes but it's the same as ever when we meet up. There is genuine warmth, affection and love. I know i will know them forever and that is a lovely thought.

 

So I'm spreading the love for friends tonight. Sometimes my head plays havoc with me, placing me in self imposed negative exile. But is there any better feeling then hanging out with friends, laughing at the same things, relaxing, feeling good?

 

Usually i would throw a gag onto the end of that to end the blog. Come up with a really witty and clever ending. Bringing it all together with a resounding climax, but i had one of those earlier and i have nothing in me. The tank is empty so to speak, I've just watched an episode of FNL and I've been crying. Not that much, I'll of course overplay and say loads to make girls go 'ahhhhhhhhh' and feel good about me, (Yes i am actually that shallow) - but the tears did come and just made me think how incredibly lucky i am to have great friends who love me despite my gay pants and too tight jeans. Plus it's always a bonus to have a few people to ponce a tenner off when needed, especially as my giro's not due until Tuesday.

 

xx

 

 

Day 248 - Mon 17th Sept - 1st day at work - Blokes on the shitter - Fat cyclists in lycra & kate Middletons nauks

It's Monday people and we all know what that means don't we? Yes that's right, a touch of melancholy and just a hint of depression. Mondays are a right bitch. The sort of day that asks you what you think of what they are wearing only to pounce on you when you respond slightly  unenthusiastically. They are bastard of a day. They are effectively Chris Brown.

My Mondays are usually pretty dull, so when i can remember i throw the topics open to the world and ask for requests. Regular readers will know that i am paranoid that no-one reads my blog. I spent 1 hour yesterday writing about The Sweeney only for 46 people to read it. I should be grateful for 46 but in my mind I'm thinking 465,000. Grandiosity is never far away.

So when i threw the topic open on Facebook and Twitter this morning i waited for the hundreds of topics to come back. I had four.

Kate Middleton's tits.
Day 1 of a new job,
Fat cyclists in Lycra
why do blokes take so long on the shitter?

All valid subjects. Not sure if they are all linked, though if Prince William wouldn't have taken so long on his throne maybe Kate wouldn't have spent so long with her nark's out and been papped.

Come to think of it do all royal khazis get decked out like a proper throne? I certainly hope so. I Bet the Decathlete wouldn't put that in his blog which is the reason technically my blog is better than anyone elses in the world. In fact if Carlsberg did blogs...........

So. Thanks for your requests. Here goes;

Kate Middleton's Tits.

I like Kate. I mean she's pretty but nothing extraordinary. If you saw her on Kings Road she'd be pretty much like all the rest of the pretty girl sloaners. She's not my thing. I haven't seen the pictures of her knockers. But I've seen enough in my life to know what knockers look like. She's pretty skinny so i shouldn't imagine they would equate to what i like to call 'a great British handful'.

Magazines are running a 26 page special on them. Fuck me, what has she got 9 nipples? 26 pages of her breasts. My god, talk about milking it. Come to mention it i would be interested if she was actually lactating and milking them but i'm pretty sure she isn't so whats the interest here?

Not allowed to publish in UK yet they are all over the Internet. She has 2 choices as far as i can tell. Sue the arse of the Papps for invasion of privacy or go full on clunge out starkers and be done with it. Join Prince Harry. It's been too long since we've had a royal naturists and better Kate does that, than Eugine or god forbid Fergie. Christ it would be like looking at 2 collapsed meringues if she went topless.

Lets get a grip here media/world and get on with things that are slightly more important. Like why do blokes take so long on the shitter?

Why do Blokes Take so long on the shitter?

It's simple girls. To get away from you! The khazi is the only place a bloke can truly find peace. It's the temple of turds. The church of the curler. A place where a bloke can truly be himself. There is no outside world. No time limits. It is a perfect combination of Man and porcelain.

Now a good shit is almost a spiritual happening. Much stress and anxiety is in the guts and if you add the stress of your missus chirping on at you. A really good shit is like meditation. Men can see more clearly in the toilet. Life makes more sense. Books become more interesting. You can concentrate in a way you simply cannot anywhere else. It is a mental and gutteral cleansing process.

Usually reading material is broken down to easy to digest information like magazines, newspapers or best still Viz. I have been known to browse the occasional OK! or CLOSER  on the bog but sometimes those stories of 46 stone trannies having sex change operations can put you out of the zone.

There is something truly pleasurable in having a good shit, apart from after spicy food when you get what's know as 'the clinger'. When you stain the toilet with skids so thick no amount of toilet duck and flushing will work. Best leave it for her to clean hey boys? Then of course you invariably block the toilet with paper as no matter how many wipes you do it doesn't shift. This can sometimes cause panic and concern.

Then of course you linger afterwards, preening your nose hair, looking at your spots and then finally giving your jewels a slight freshen up in case you get lucky.

Women are in and out because they don't need the time a man needs in the bog. They have their own thing called 'dressing table', which causes as much mystery to men as blokes taking so long on the shitter to women. It's the same as the garage or shed. Somethings in life are just the way they are. Don't fuck with history or the way of the land,. Man needs toilet to himself for ages and any man who shits with the door open and his wife to see and kids running around needs to take a long hard look at himself in the mirror and question his existence/values. There is no room in Manland for freaks like that.

Shit on boys. With pride. With honour. With skids. It's what makes us so utterly ridiculous.

How was that Kate Cater?

Fat Cyclists in Lycra

Too many of them. Driving or cycling behind one of them is like watching Russell Grant & Adele rolling around under a duvet. It's just wrong and should be banned.

First Day of a New Job

Ciara Keane requested this as she starts a new job on Weds. My only advice would be not to copy me when i joined Charlton Athletic in 1999. My first day was a matchday at the Valley. I was staying with my friend Matt Burge at the time and Matt Cooper came over. It was Friday night. The day before my new job and first day.What followed was a rather long drinking session. I obviously had great intentions to go to bed early and get in nice and early at the agreed 9.30am for a tour around the facilities, meet the corporates, directors and watch the game which was kicking off at 3pm.

Midnight passed, easily. Then 1am. Then 2am. 'Well as long as i get 5 hours kip I'll be fine' i thought to myself. How many times have we thought that? You know you're fooling yourself but you go along with it anyway. 4am approached and by now we were shitted. Then finally i staggered to bed at 5.30am, woke up at 10am, got ready looking like I'd just done a tour of duty in Iraq, jumped in the car (still well over the limit) stuffed a McDonald's Double sausage and egg mcmuffin down my Mcgob and rolled in at 12.45pm after heavy traffic. The day didn't go well and i left that job after 2 months.

A new job and 1st day is terrifying. It looms in the back of your head. Unless its for a shed full of money or you're the new tester for 'The World of Beds' and doing something you love it's horrid. You're the new kid. You feel meek, mild and nervous though of course you don't show it. It's never a good look on your first day to burst into tears and start screaming for your Mummy.

My worst job was putting bottle tops on orange juice bottles in a factory when i was 18. I lasted 2 hours before quitting. So if you go in on your first day and get bad vibes, most people will say it takes time, give it a chance, have an open mind, be available and open, be friendly, try to relax and make the best of it.

I say sod that, quit, just in time to get home for Flog it, get out for a run and be on the the dot for Job Centre Plus in the morning. If you put on a limp you may even get a mobility scooter too.

Day 247 - Sun 16th Sept - Sunday Bloody Sunday

I've got nowt in my head to write today. I'm all out of subjects. I reckon i've had a good run of different subjects so instead i'm going to list what i did today;

• Early morning meeting in Chelsea. All about feelings and emotions. Shall i kill myself now or later?
• Coffee with a mate afterwards. Not sure if i actually get on with him. Odd coffee, like the sort you have with an ex partner and you're trying to be civil. Strange.
• Read of paper at cafe whilst eyeing up Chelsea girls posing up and down Kings Road.
• Read of paper at cafe whilst being eyed up by Chelsea boys posing up and down Kings Road
• Lunch with lovely neice
• Cinema with lovely neice. Lawless. Savage and brutal film but fuck loads better than Sweeney
• More popcorn - bonus
• More popcorn in arse cleft - non bonus
• 2 text messages about Tesco mobile ad - Satisfies the attention seeking craving within
• X Factor - see above for Chelsea meeting
• Write blog
• Match of Day 2
• 3 episodes of Friday Night Lights - addicted
• Sleep - eventually

I'm that dull today

x

Day 246 - Sat 15th Sept - We're The Sweeney son and we ‘aint had no Dinner

You know when you have grown up with something that you totally love? That reminds you of childhood. That has such an influence it stays with you forever? Well that's The Sweeney to me.

I totally love it. Aside from Paul McKenna i reckon i love The Sweeney more than anyone else in the world. He’s a total fan. I met him through a friend a while ago and he knows everything, every stat, fact and phrase. He's in a different league.

I’m not that much of a statto, i love it in an organic way. Why? I have organically woven it into my life. From the way i dress (Mancamp), to my attitude (Old school sexist underneath PC exterior) to my healthy disregard of authority and love of tight clothing. They always seemed to wear shirts slightly too small which made the buttons stretch. It must have been an influence.

I used to watch it with my Dad as a kid and i was inspired. Slightly out of shape men running around London in cheap polyester suits, driving Ford Granada's, fighting, drinking whisky, smoking fags, bedding ‘birds' and generally being disrespectful to authority. Whats there not to like?

It was proper good stuff. Even the theme tune was amazing. The opening bars to ‘tadada, tadda da da da dada deerr tada tada made you excited. 18 million viewers in 1976 and class acting. I was young, so i had to sing from my bedroom the theme tune in the hope i would be invited down at 9pm to watch it. I always was. Shots of west london, drinking tea out of plastic cups by Putney Bridge, car chases around Shepherds Bush and always a chase around disused Battersea Power station.

When it ended even the theme tune went down 2 octaves and was sad. Yes The Sweeney is the best TV showed ever made and was a great representation of the times. They even made 2 movies. Imaginatively titled Sweeney! and Sweeney 2.

To give you an idea of how imaginative they were, in the first movie the baddies wanted Regan off the job, so they pretended to be Police officers stopped and breathalysed him (of course he was over the limit as he’d been heavily drinking and then drove, everyone did in the 70’s, no biggy) - Then the baddies took him to a disused warehouse put a funnel down his throat then fed a litre of whisky down it.

They Put him back in his car and sent him on his way. He of course crashed, but survived & was suspended from duty. Classic. A litre of scotch down a funnel, where have you seen a baddy doing that anywhere else? Only in the Sweeney. The best thing was Regan sank it all. They were real men back then. Can you imagine that happening in a Touch of Frost? Or Spender? Fuck no, Regan can drain a litre of Whisky and still drive a Talbot Horizon.

See, how can you not love The Sweeney when it’s filmed in a pub with Regan and Carter getting pissed up on the job? Class!

So it was with trepidation i went to watch the remake of The Sweeney at the cinema today. I already hated it having seen the posters and trailers. I also have a ridiculous burning resentment against Nick Love the Director, as i used to see him around Chelsea a few years ago and i didn’t like his V Neck jumpers. I know it’s stupid. But a bloke geezer should never wear Pastel v neck jumpers as he did and make violent cult movies. Did i really say cult, i meant something else.

I just can’t take a man in a pink v neck or yellow v neck or worse still a white V Neck seriously.

So off i went to the Odeon. Mistake number 1. The Odeon’s popcorn is shit. Large is too small. It’s gone by trailer 2. Most of it down my front and strangely in my trousers. I’ve written about it before but i always seem to get popcorn in my arse crack. I’m a messy sod in the cinema. But i figure it’s so massively overpriced it’s almost mandatory to make a fucking big mess and leave your space like a squat.

I’m in recovery and lead a spiritual life, so i told myself some values i’ve learnt in AA. Keep an open mind. Don’t judge. Don’t criticise. Be positive and enjoy. I didn’t want to pre judge it and let my love of the original cloud my judgment of the movie.

I repeated the mantra over and over again, until 30 seconds in, the opening scene of the movie & i thought the music didn’t match. It was shit.

What followed was 2 hours of total bollocks. It doesn't even wipe the arse of the original. It shouldn’t even bare it’s name. It’s Julian to John Lennon. It’s a joke. Like one long Fast Show sketch. Or a 6th form student trying desperately hard to impress and do his take on it.

Don’t get me wrong there are some nice bits in it. Ray Winstone is a nasty bastard and effectively growls for 2 hours. Though he gets dangerously close to turning into Frank Butcher at times. I expected ‘Pat’ or ‘Ricky’ to appear. He Growled a series of fake London phrases like ‘knock yourself out’ and ‘lets ave it’. To be fair though in the spirit of the original he’s got a massive gut and there is a bed scene with him in big yellow pants. But that is about the only spirit of the original.

The London settings look superb and Plan B is OK as Carter, but the plot & film is just ridiculous and a major disappointment.

To me it’s like taking the Mona Lisa and then making it into a dot to dot. Like following a glass of Krug with Malibu. Like having a 3 some with Kelly Brook and Boris Johnson. It;’s wrong.

The original had spirit, humour, devil may care, class, setting of the time and panache. This one is just over trying and weak. If it wasn’t for Winstone then it would be the biggest load of wank ever.

I mean look how stylised and lacking in character it is compared to the original? Weapons and black and white moody shots. Not a patch. Overdone, false, pretentious fuckshit. I’m not happy.

Sly Stallone did it with Get Cater and now Nick Love has done it with The Sweeney. The closest thing to The Sweeney is The Shield, maybe he should have taken note. Even his piss poor rip off of the street shooting scene from Heat is bollocks.

No No No. You’ve fucked with The Sweeney and i urge anyone who is thinking of going to watch it. Save  £11.40, go to Sainsburys, buy some Popcorn, order off Amazon the original 2 Sweeney movies for £5, settle back on the sofa, place some popcorn in your arse crack, pretend you’re at the movies and watch some proper class.

As long as you don’t mind heavy misogyny, slight racism and ultra smoking you’ll love them. I know i did.

Me

xx

Day 245 - Fri 14th Sept - The Great British Pub

I was recalling with fondness my love for the Great British Pub today. It may seem a little odd seeing as I'm sober & rarely go into them these days. If I'm honest I'm quite pleased as they all seem really poncy now. They even have 'Jus' on the menu. It's a disgrace. A pub should be a pub. Not a 'gastropub'. That's called a restaurant. I like to keep things 'old school' and simple.

When i used to drink (That really makes me sound like an old codger), pubs were pubs. Yes there were some poncy ones but most were pub pubs. You know the ones; The Pond House, The Red Lion, The Windsor Castle.

I loved them. They were magical places of hope, adventure and KP nuts. Of course none of them came to fruition as you were too busy getting pissed and talking bullshit but it all seemed so possible at the time. The pub was an adventure, a warm feeling of safety, bulletproof from the real world. A place to go and effectively escape from real life and actually doing anything. It was like the Tardis. The womb. You could be anything you wanted to be without actually having to bother doing it, especially after 5 pints of Lowenbrau. God i loved the pub.

You could smoke in them back then thank god. I mean there's a whole new generation of kids growing up in Oneils or Walkabout who can't nestle their 20 B&H on the bar next to an overflowing ashtray with several pints of lager and a couple of chasers. It's a rights of passage that has been sadly lost. How the hell do you get stuck into a big session without ultra smoking?

They have also got rid of the pool tables. Which is sad. That was my schooling. My education. Endless afternoons with Ben Keane bunking off school and playing the best of 25 frames in the Pond House, whilst nonchalantly supping pint after pint, listening to Jimmi Hendrix. Brilliant.

'Winner stays on'. The 50p's lined up on the table, the cigarette burning on the table edge, the fag burns in the cloth and that fucking wall that was always too tight to the table so you had to use the baby cue or bridge up high. Always happened on a crucial black. There was always a wall.Then of course the dreaded words for any pool playing pub drinker, 'Mixed doubles?' It would have been fine if they were talking about Brandy and Tequila, but it was invariably being forced to team up with a woman to give everyone a chance to play when she had about as much knowledge of pool as i did of women. (Things have changed in sobriety. I'm terrible at pool but excellent at women)

Then of course you get the pasting from an experienced pub pro, knocking your young cocksure arrogance from you. It was an education in life. You admired the old regulars who spent everyday in there. You wanted to be them. Thinking they were so wise and worldly. Only years later has that myth been smashed that they were just sad lonely alcoholics who had sod all else to do and their worldliness was all off the tellie. (and made up) - I Learnt the importance of looking like you know what your doing whilst not having a clue inside.

Then of course you had the jukebox, the pinball, dartboard and if you were really lucky 'meat Raffle'. They introduced the concept of the big screen TV for football sometime in the 90's, which was a double winner and of course to appease the intellectuals, newspapers. I used to spend hours trying to read the papers through blurred double vision trying to appear more sober and normal than i actually was. I mean if you're on your own in a pub reading the paper, your relaxing right, you're definately not an alcoholic?

Children were rarely seen in boozers back then and the only food on offer was nuts, scampi fries - which were a nightmare as they just made you smell like you've just been fingering the pub slag and corned beef rolls. The only thing Gastroessque was Prawn Cocktail Crisps. Of course as i got older food was introduced like roast dinners or anything else as long as it came with chips.

Pubs were a place for romance of course. Getting drunk then copping a feel up in the disabled toilet with piss all over the floor. Dreams were made. Chivalry was alive.

Then of course there was the holy grail. The words that made you weep with joy. The magic. The two simple words, 'lock in'. Oh my god, how special did you feel? Like you've made it. Joined the most exclusive VIP club. Curtains shut, music off, lightweights gone, doors locked clunk click, now it was just you and serious drinkers. You were here to drink there was no fucking about.Made it!

No happy hours, no Wicked or blue coloured drinks, no Jus, No theme nights or sauvignon blanc. No poncy bar snacks, no music. Just pure drinking. Just as i like it. Late night Lock in. Heaven.

Now of course pubs are non smoking, living room style places who serve burgers on wooden boards for fucks sake. They are either binge drinking playgrounds full of neon lights and braindead youths or middle class Gastropubs with chalkboards and children. Where did it go wrong?

I think i got out of drinking at the right time. If i was still at it I'd be A) bankrupt, i mean how do you afford 12 pints, 4 chasers, 3 rounds and a curry when it is £4.20 a pint?, B) barred, after venting my hatred for all things poncy whilst in blackout  c)Arrested or D) A JD Wetherspoons regular. Parking my mobility scooter outside.

Getting arrested happened rather too often when i was drunk.I would Get chatty, get loud, get funny, get annoying, get arrogant, get lairy, get lippy, get punched, get barred, get arrested. That was generally the theme to my drinking towards the end. I never willingly left a pub. I had to be blacked out, kicked out or punched out.

I know the police get a good kicking and rightly so with national disgraces like the Hillsborough cover up, but to be fair they are great at filling in blackouts. "I called PC 368 a Pig C**t 45 times? Really. So sorry officer."

No i will leave the pub exactly as i remember it and am very pleased to have grown up in an era where smoking in pubs was almost mandatory. I'm just grateful i wasn't born 10 years earlier, as they had it hard back in the 70's and 80's. I mean pubs would shut at 2pm and not open until 7pm. Fuck me, what about the all dayer, a total pub classic. When you start early doors and just keep going until closing time. Feeling a sense of massive achievement.

And finally the ultimate. The true nature of the pub is the 'carry out', and pulling something out of the hat that truly made you feel special. The 'allnighter'. Oh god yes. When you're having such a good night, when tomorrow will never come and even if it does you don't give a shit.

"Yes,  lets stay up, lets keep going. Fuck work, I'll call in sick. They'll understand. It's only my 16th sicky this year."
"Yes Nicky but it's only February"

You feel like the SaS of drinkers. The elite. Above the rest of the human race. Like you've won gold. You see everyone 'normal' going to work. Jogging, running even and you think 'why?'. A sense of superiority adorns you like a coat, until you hit the burn then the sense of superiority turns to crushing fear & paranoia. 'Oh fuck I'm going to get fired, I'll be skint, what have i done? Why did you make me do that 16th Tequila slammer?"

I know I'm being nostalgic. I know it wasn't all like that. I remember countless solo drinking sessions that ended in tears and misery. But i love the Great British Pub. It's dying out of course. In 30 years time you won't even have to go. Instead 'PUB' will be a Playstation 3 game. I'm pleased i had the best of them and all those nights out down them which i can't remember. Must have been a good night then eh?

xx

Day 244 - Thurs 13th Sept - You're So Vain i Bet you thought This Song was About You

Oh my god I'm 40. I woke up this morning and actually realised I'm 40. I think I've been on such a high over the past 10 days that i woke this morning with an almighty crash. I appear to be me again. Nuts

I have been on such an adrenaline rush and high over the past few days. I have had a ball. It started off  with holiday and getting a proper massive tan. I love being tanned. I know I'm a vain bastard but i don't care. How many men actually admit to being vain? It takes ages for me to go shopping, all those bastard shop windows to glance at your reflection. It's a nightmare.

Holiday meant no diet coke, sugar and uber healthy diet. Running every day, sleeping and feeling good. I came back well tanned up and i know this is going to make me sound like a proper twat but i looked really good. Now i come from a position of being 15-16 stone throughout my 20's. Being a really chubby little kid with bigger knockers than Jordan at school. So for me it's still rather a novelty to look good. I like it.

When i was away the Tesco mobile advert was screened on National TV. This meant i was inundated with messages from people saying they'd seen me, posting pics of it on Facebook. Oh my god it was all about me. Attention. Whilst i coolly try to make it look as if attention is no big deal to me, secretly deep down of course it is. A dreadful part of me i admit, but real none the less. This of course fed it.

Then i got back and it was straight into my 40th birthday. A family occasion and i got more attention and gifts and love. Me.

Then it was straight into my comedy night, where i got to talk about ME, more. Doing 40th birthday gags and more about Me.

Then in case all of that attention and Me ism wasn't enough, it was my party. Pub Idle. Just to generate more attention i got to dress up as Elvis, hire a band, sing and then compere a singing competition. Fuck loads of attention and of course as party host for the night it really was all about me. Though weirdly felt rather humbled on the night. Even i was getting bored of me at the end.

Then for a few days after you dine off the energy, love, adrenaline and memory of that night. Looking through the endless pictures of ME, watching the videos, checking all my cards and gifts and generally feeling pretty dam amazing. It helps of course to hear people saying what an amazing party and how good a time they had. This all adds to the general high of course. Then came meeting Clare Balding and BOOM. It just carried on.

The health & vitality was still alive for a few days after. The Tan was holding up. I was even using facial scrub and moisturiser for fucks sake (apparently it prolongs the tan. A little like stay hard cream for your cock, just a different ingredient. I hope i don't get them mixed up)

Can life be like this all the time please? Can i bottle this and roll it out forever?

Then today, i woke up, time to work, low energy. A chill in the air, slightly dark. Reality. Boom.

The messages have gone, the applause has died down. It's no longer all about ME. How disappointing. The world is now getting on with it's business. My turn too.

I call people to thank them for coming on Saturday whilst secretly doing it so i can hear them saying how cool it was and amazing i was etc etc - it's pathetic fishing really and they saw through that. 'I'm not being funny Nick it was a good party but i got 2 screaming kids here and a running bath. I love you but move along and fuck off'.

The endless re running of videos until 3am, the studying of photos. The memories. Even the people who recognised me off the advert have said 'i recognise you on the advert', they're not going to say it again. This has forced me to go to new meetings i haven't been to for ages to see some old familiar faces in the forlorn hope they'll go 'did i see you on the tellie?'. The lengths people will go for attention seeking. Sad. I may aswell apply for Big Brother!

Today the head started again too. That annoying negative niggle, which has been quiet for a few days. I am definately coming back.

I hope the past 2 weeks haven't been like my Olympics. You know that 2 week golden period where everything was amazing, wonderful, positive, adrenaline fuelled, where you talked to strangers on tubes, plotted the future, thought anything was possible and then, as soon as it ended, you were back to normal. 'Why are you talking to me on the tube? 'I think I'll put off climbing Everest until next year. I hate Boris Johnson'. Lets hope mine isn't similar.

I think vanity is a terrible trait in a man. Certainly women are put off by it. Naval gazing, self obsession, self centredness are all character traits that i don't particularly care for. I was only telling myself that in the mirror tonight before bed, as i put on my Clinique Face Mask and watched Pub Idle 2,3 and 4 on a loop until 3am.

It made me giggle that Bett Midler quote. "anyway enough about me. Lets talk about you. What do you think of me?"

Back to normal tomorrow readers.

xx