So it’s Friday evening and I’ve just finished work. It’s the end of the worst week of the year. The 11th was the fourth anniversary of My Lady’s death. Then three days later, Valentine’s Day. As you can imagine, I have a lot to process. It’s not even just the above that’s played its part in the roller coaster I’ve had this week.

So much has been swirling around my mind this week. Up, down, up, down. It’s been hard work emotionally. Soaring highs and deep lows. It’s been a while since I’ve had that. Sometimes I say to myself that I’d rather have that than constant low level depression, simply because I’ve not had soaring highs of any kind in the last four years, other than the headcase meet ups until recently. The big Machine Head gig weekend was nothing short of spectacular, both musically, and emotionally, but other than that, not much else. After years of us only knowing each other online, it’s blew a lot of our minds to meet each other at last.

So I find myself in Costa once more. It’s the first time I’ve been to this one on my own. Next to the fire station that was converted into the mass vaccination centre, I’ve only ever been here with colleagues really. Apart from a very special friend. We met up the last couple of times I’ve been here. Delightful company both times.

It’s been a strange day. I awoke at 6am, wide awake and ready to go. No idea why. I thought I might as well get up and take some time for myself while my Princeling was sleeping. I couldn’t be bothered to do my nails last night so, as I had plenty of time, I did them this morning.

I arrived at work twenty minutes early fresh as a daisy and in good spirits. I even put on a smart shirt just for the hell of it. My colleagues must have thought something was going on but no one asked other than the young apprentice we have. I usually wear jeans and one of my many metal t shirts.

For most of the morning, my good mood continued. After all it’s payday too. By the time I had my two morning breaks I felt a funk come over me. I couldn’t place it, frustratingly. Something was up but I didn’t know what. As the day progressed it got worse. By the afternoon, I just hid in my music and focussed on work. I tried to anyway. It was important I got this job right as I was building boards for a cancer scanning device. You can imagine the importance of quality in this case. I’ve been doing this long enough now that I shouldn’t worry too much. I’ve become quite skilled in the last two years.

Two years. The thought occurred to me today that next week I’ve been at the company exactly two years. Another surreal thought. All the things that have happened in that time. It’s almost too much to think about. I’ve done very well in my time there. It was just what I needed, when I needed it. All that time in survival mode, drowning in debt and finally I’m coming out of that. The company has treated me so well in that time. Dealing with my meltdowns, and various other emotional turmoil. I feel like part of the family now. I’ve rarely felt so secure, valued and respected in any job. Other than the vaccination work, I’ve rarely been in the position of genuinely liking all of my colleagues too. I feel very lucky. Again.

Reading that back, and given the horror of losing My Lady, I would normally put the word lucky in inverted commas. Looking back over the last few years, I HAVE been very lucky. I have many friends that love me deeply as I do them. I’ve been to more gigs in that time than in my entire life. I have a secure job and I’m damn good at it too. People seem to genuinely like me wherever I go. It feels great after feeling alone and abandoned for so long.

The people that I felt had abandoned me have been dropped now. When you lose your partner, it’s amazing how many people that said they would be there for you just fade away. Naturally, becoming a widow, your life changes irrevocably but I actually have a completely new life and a very different one at that. There are many things I want to change but none of it will happen overnight. My point is that I now have hope that I can be happy again. I deserve it do it not?

Well, I’ve been sat here an hour already. I guess I should get going home. For some reason I feel I could spent more time here. Not that I have reason to feel that way, going home isn’t that appealing, still. It’s why I came here in the first place. I guess it’s because I have many happy memories around and in here, both in the past and recently. It feels nice but I’ll be here all evening at this rate. I’ll probably pick this up again at home…

Saturday afternoon:

For once I spent Friday night on Zoom with my friends. I hadn’t for the last couple of weeks and it was lovely to catch up with them properly. We were up until gone four am! It’s always been a safe place for any of us to vent our life’s troubles away, and sure enough one of us needed to last night. After all the times I’ve spilled my guts on Zoom, it was nice to be able to be there for them. The plan was to have a good drink too, nay, get drunk even but the urge quickly faded and I craved coffee more than the cider I had picked up earlier in the day.

I awoke today at gone one thirty pm. Always a sign of a good Zoom session. I had a coffee, paid some bills then came into town to get some new trainers. It’s about time I did as the last new pair of shoes I got was during the pandemic. The thought randomly occurred to me that I had planned to add to my piercing collection some time ago. If there’s one thing I have come to enjoy during the last few years it’s spontaneity. So I dropped by the local studio and it was empty. Great! As I walked in, I had no idea what I was going to get pierced but I quickly decided on two new lobe piercings. There will be plenty of time for more adventurous ones. If I had the money I’d have got myself a tattoo while I was there. So that’s done, I have my trainers, hair dye and I’ve just finished my McDonald’s. Time to get going. Being in town doesn’t give me anywhere near as much anxiety as it used to so I don’t feel hurried. That’s new. Today was all about me for once.

So I got the wrong bus and now I’m going the long way home. No matter. I’m in no rush. I quite enjoy being free to take as long as I want. I can just chill on the bus writing more of this drivel. One thing I didn’t take into account when getting the piercings was my headphones. I wear them all day at work and I have them with me now. I’ll have to get used to only having one side on for weeks. First world problems eh? Tough life. 😂

I have a lot of housework to do when I get home but I’m in the mood for doing some work on that song I was supposed to finish last month. Once I get it tight, I’m done with it, warts and all. I can’t release it if the riff doesn’t even come in on the beat though. Then I’m on to song two. “Train In The Face”. It’ll be all about how you can be ok one minute, then utterly destroyed out of the blue the next. It happened several times a day in the first year after My Lady died. It was like being run over by an emotional freight train, hence the title. I pretty much have all the riffage done but it has no lyrics yet. All the poetry I’ve been reading and sharing with my new connection is inspiring me though. Hopefully it won’t take too long. I need at least three songs finished before I release the first one or I’ll lose momentum really quick.

Sunday afternoon:

I awoke around 7am which given the late Friday night, surprised me. It’s my normal time to get up for work. The weather feels decidedly spring like for once. I have the whole house opened up and I’m deep cleaning. I feel the urge to change things around again. There have been bookcases on the landing for years. I decided to bring one downstairs and open the landing up. Bit by bit I’m minimizing this house. As I said before my mind is looking towards moving from here but no one is going to want to exchange with me with the house in the state it’s in. I want to get in the minimalist headset by the time I move. My Princeling was looking into getting his own place last weekend. Fantastic. I can finally get the ball rolling with myself too now. I doubt he will take me seriously when I tell him I’m starting planning for MY moving out but he will just have to deal with it. He will never get his life going if I continue doing everything for him and financially supporting him too. He has an income now so why should I?

Having a look on the Home Swapper site, there aren’t many bungalows available but one or two look like they could work. I doubt they will still be available by the time I’m fully ready to move though. Still, it’s nice to be looking and taking it seriously for once. Once The house is good again I’m going hell for leather to get out of here. I have no intention of changing town as getting to work could be problematic but somewhere on the edge of the countryside would be perfect.

So, after a roller coaster of a week it ends on a positive note. The sun is shining, all the doors and windows are open, and I’m bopping around cleaning to some classic tunes. Once it’s all done, I’ll get dinner out of the way, dye my hair and do a bit of work on my song. New shoes, new jeans, new piercings, fresh hair and I’m ready for another week.

Let this week not be as much of an arse as the last.

So mote it be. Later friends. x

Isn’t it wonderfully strange how humans connect sometimes? One can be mooching along in life not looking for a deep connection of any kind, then one comes along, bang, out of the blue. It’s happened to me more than once and I’m as pleasantly surprised as ever every time. I’ve had and currently have many deep connections since meeting my Headcase family and they are indeed, soul connections but soul friendships.

Over the years, I’ve come to believe we have more than one soulmate and indeed more than one type. For some it’s a friend, others a sibling or parent. Then of course there is the soul partner. It’s this one that has me curious at the moment. How does one define it? Is it that feeling of meeting someone ‘again’ even though they’ve never met like My Lady and I had? Is it the connection of two souls with such a familiar understanding of the world and their view of it all that they feel totally at ease with each other to the point that they feel inexorably drawn to each other? Could it be a combination of the two? I can imagine there are several definitions but lets not dive too deep into that now, or I’ll be here all day.

Another question is, what’s the difference between a soul connection and a soulmate? Is there a difference? Does it even matter? So many questions with so few answers. How new. One thing I do know however is that I’ve missed a certain type of soul connection for a long time. I had no idea how much until recently.

I paused writing there for some time, as the act of writing those last few lines got me thinking a lot. Recent events have been feeding this gap in my soul and I’ve loved every second of it. I feel enriched, blessed even. Sharing the natural beauty of the world with someone is very special to me. These are the moments that burn themselves into the memory forever. The moments that are supposed to flash before your eyes before you die. Assuming of course that happens at all.

Take sunrises and sunsets for instance. How any human can not be moved by a beautiful sky is beyond me. Sharing the experience with someone who is as in awe of such things too is a beautiful thing. I shared a stunning sunset with a lovely soul only a week or two ago. The week before, we were leaving work and when we got outside we both got excited at a beautiful sky. It was an eye opener for sure. We walk the first mile or so together from work every day so we talked about hopefully catching a nice sunset on the way home. It’s the perfect time of year for it as at the time, the sun was setting around the time we finished work. Sure enough our time came. See for yourself.

We just couldn’t stop staring at it. It was moving for both of us. We both went our separate ways afterwards with a spring in our step. I was riding high on it all evening. My soul felt lighter than it had for years.

Interesting… As I finished that line, I look up at my clock as it turns midnight. It’s the day My Lady died, four years ago. The song ‘I Want To Break Free’ comes on at the same time. Oh, how the Cosmos likes to have it’s fun does it not? Curious… Despite the anniversary, I still feel happy, thinking about my new connection and the above sunset we shared. What a strange head space. Finally, after four years of turmoil, I feel I can actually move on with my life. Four years. I’ve changed so much in that time. Early on, just the words “move on” were disgusting to me, utterly offensive. I thought I would never get to a point where this wasn’t the case. Who knows how I’ll feel later today but I’ll take this win where I find it and given what the last anniversaries have been like, believe me… It’s a win. I’ve even stopped calling them shittyversaries.

Getting back to the point, if anything it reinforces the point, I still feel lighter than I have in years. I would be easy to let myself get carried away with this feeling with the inevitable comedown at some point but to be quite frank, I’d rather that than not have this feeling at all. I’m just enjoying it now and if it continues then that would be amazing. Whatever form it takes. Life is too short not to take some risks in life for the chance of happiness. There’s precious little of it for us all as it is.

I’m just grateful for the opportunity to connect with someone on a soul level finally. It seems the feeling is mutual which is uplifting to massively understate it. We both deserve some happiness.

Long may it continue. 🙂

One thing I noticed early on after My Lady died and especially after lockdown was that I seemed unable to filter my thoughts when talking to people. It got to the point where I started calling it “Truth Tourette’s”. My colleagues at the mass vaccination center knew all about it eventually. I would be asked how I was, then I would embark on a detailed journey of my last year or so. Repeatedly. They would always patiently listen and offer support every time, bless them.

Eventually I got a grip on it for the most part, or so I thought. It’s hard to find the balance between saying what you think, as in advocating for yourself and so on and being downright inappropriate. When I started my current job, I was acutely aware that my verbal filter was still a work in progress and would inevitably fail me at times. I used to joke, saying it would get me trouble one day, never thinking for a moment that it would actually happen. For the longest time, when it did fail me it was generally in a positive way. Like over complimenting someone or something. The day it would get me in trouble came today and I feel awful about it. There is a new starter at work and by all accounts he is rather unpleasant, but that’s not the point. When on our smoking breaks he would repeatedly huck and spit on the floor right next to me. It’s a pet peeve of mine. It makes my skin crawl. Eventually it got too much for me and I started ranting about it after break, completely unaware that I was speaking so loud, my boss could hear me the other side of the shop floor. I was horrified. Suffice to say, she had a “word” with me about it and rightly so. I wanted to shrink into the corner of the room and disappear, utterly mortified and ashamed at my own behavior.

One thing I’ve always been grateful for in my job is how welcome I was made to feel there and I’ve become very settled and I feel very much part of a happy team now. On the way home, my closest and very special friend there mentioned that the guy had heard people talking about him (not just me) and it had made him feel very uncomfortable and unwelcome. I was even more horrified. I still can’t believe my own behavior made someone feel so bad. I feel terrible about it. It doesn’t matter how disgusted I am by the guy, and I am, I have no right being so nasty about it. I intend to apologize to him profusely first thing in the morning. I hope he can accept it and be able to move on from it. Not for my benefit, but so he can feel better about being with us and hopefully settle in. It won’t be easy, but I must do it. It’s all very well my being the “sage on the stage”, but words not backed up by actions mean nothing. I’ve considered myself a gentleman for some time and I let myself and the team down today. Being a gentleman, doesn’t just mean opening a door to a lady or just being polite. It’s not gender specific and it’s a way of life as far as I’m concerned. I’ve always prided myself on it.

Today I also found myself saying that I wish my filter WOULD fail me once or twice but not like that. You know, when you want to say something nice (that word is so lame) but you can’t bring yourself to do so, for fear of offending or potentially showing your feelings too much and appearing either desperate, needy or creepy or a combination of all three. It would have been fine, I’m sure and the lady in question seemed to know perfectly well what I was thinking so I’m not concerned about it. Like I said, the balance is very hard. It was never a problem until My Lady died and the pandemic came along.

So tomorrow, I swallow my pride and practice what I preach. If there’s one thing I cannot abide, it’s a bully and I (however briefly) became the very thing I despise. I must do everything to redress this. Suffice to say tomorrow morning will be “interesting”. I’m not looking forward to it one bit. Well, not that part of it anyway. I am however looking forward to seeing my closest one in the morning. We had coffee this evening and it was nothing short of delightful. I came away from it buzzing even though it was hammering down with rain. It still feels great hours later.

Wish me luck friends. I’ll need it on both levels. x

Lesson #1327: How not to be a dick at work…

Sunday. Pottering around the house, cleaning, listening to some classic rock tunes for a change. I want to break free by Queen comes on. It starts me thinking… I really do. Where to even start though? I still don’t know. I went to the Rock and Metal DJ night in town on Friday. As ever it was just what I needed, good friends, good music and plenty of cider. I even made another new friend that night. There is one friend in particular however that I want to take there. To be fair, there are a few but this one would probably get more out of it than any of them. I’d certainly enjoy her company more. Her day will come and she’ll love it, I’m sure.

As for breaking free, from what exactly? I want to be free to go where I want, when I want, see who I want, BE with who I want without considering anyone else. Selfish? Of course. Unrealistic? Most certainly. Even more so recently. I want it anyway, judge me if you wish. My eyes have been opened in the last week or so. I AM good enough. I AM worthy. It’s taken years and a new, deeper connection to make me believe it. I’ve been telling it to myself for ages, but believing it? Probably not, looking back, but it’s different when someone else makes you feel worthy whether it was their intention or not. A few times in the last month I’ve been in a situation where I was so happy, I totally lived in the moment. I enjoyed it for what it was right there and then even if it was just for a few minutes or hours. I’ve said in many contexts, take the wins where you find them. The same applies to joy. Given how fleeting joy can and has been for me over the last four years, it’s hard not to get carried away by it. It’s been a breath of fresh air after breathing stagnant air for so long.

Swoon…Thud!…

I’m not alone in this feeling, I’m sure. Is it really too much to ask to be free enough to express this joy, or act on it? It would seem so, for now anyway. Sometimes, particularly recently, I want to shout it from the rooftops. Or at at least not worry about being open. Life is so damn complicated. How new.

It’s fascinating how my mind works sometimes. Even being so aware of it objectively is still unsettling for me, even after all this time. On the one hand, I feel what I feel and on the other I can look at it almost from the third person and (to an extent) rationalize it. Only it’s not rational. Emotions rarely, if ever, are. I’ve talked about these things for years with my soul sisters as we’ve all had these issues in some form or another during that time. The one thing we all agree on is that, whether the feelings appear rational or not, they are there regardless of whether we want them to be or not and quite often we don’t. The conclusion we came to is that we should honor those feelings and not dismiss them as stupid or frivolous. They are there for a reason. All three of us are intelligent individuals, not predisposed to letting our feelings getting out of control. It gets in the way of so many things. Trouble is, sometimes, letting your feelings get out of control is exactly what you DO want. Personally, I even crave it sometimes. The things unsaid, said. The feelings unexpressed, expressed. You get the picture. Life is too short. How does one reconcile that without potentially causing a shit storm, either in my life, or someone else’s or both? That’s the last thing I want. I’ve been there before in the distant past and I have no desire to repeat the lesson.

Anyway, what will be, will be. I just need to focus on getting free enough to be happy, however that manifests. Just reading that last sentence to myself makes me laugh. So obvious but so difficult to manifest.

Yet another random stream of consciousness post. At the risk of sounding repetitive…

How new.

It’s Monday. I have today and tomorrow off work. I booked them off to get my first song finished among other things. I got a fair bit done on it yesterday. I’ve also spent a lot of time painting bits of the house. Throughout this time this whole “feels” thing has been playing on my mind a lot. As you’ll know if you’ve read my last few posts, I’ve been spending a considerable amount of time of late thinking about the next stage of my life. I’m fifty this year. It’s a little surreal thinking about creating a completely new life for myself even now, but I crave it more than ever. I’m done with the current status quo. Other than my job, I want to change it all. Recent events have made me incredibly reflective. I’ve been talking about it with my two soul sisters from my Headcase family. They’ve really helped me put a few things in perspective. What do I want? Who do I want? Where do I want it? How do I want it? I don’t necessarily have the answers to these questions, but I didn’t even have a clue where to start.

Until now I’d never seriously thought about who I want as, initially at least, the whole point was that the new life I’ve been craving had no one else in it, partner wise anyway. I mentioned before how I have twenty years of working life left if I’m lucky and I want to make the most of that. After talking to the the girls for most of this weekend the penny dropped. Twenty years… Do I really want to spend those years on my own? I’ve never been single this long already. One thing the girls said that made me stop in my tracks was the question do I even know what the single version of myself is like? So far, since My Lady died, the answer has been a bloody hermit. In the past I’ve never really been the type to go to the pub or club socially. Even when I’d tried, I always had that “wall flower” feeling I remember from school discos. Sad huh? Over the last year or so however that’s changed. There’s a rock and metal DJ night in a pub in town once a month. I seem to have become well liked there. It’s a new and very nice feeling. Metal heads being metal heads, it didn’t take long to form a bond with several there. We have since become very close. Not once have I ever gone there looking for a date or anything however. As one of the younger lads there once said, it’s one of the few places I can truly be myself. I can totally ‘lose my shit’ there. In the very best way.

After My Lady dying, and then the pandemic, my social skills were totally destroyed. Hardly surprising and many people had the same experience after lock down. Working in the mass vaccination program throughout it’s time however, I met and greeted literally tens of thousands of people. My colleagues were different to the people I was used to being around too. Over that time, I rebuilt my socials skills. I realized after a while that I had rebuilt them differently though. People were interacting with me very differently. I was never really an unpopular person in social circles, but I always had social anxiety to the point that I rarely, if ever struck up conversations upon meeting new people. The vaccination work completely changed that.

Getting back to the point of this post, the new me that’s developed during the last four years is very different. I won’t bang on about it too much here, as I have written about it a lot in past posts, but it’s relevant. I’m now quite confident and outgoing, gregarious even. My attitude now is that people can take me how they find me or not, I don’t care any more. It’s very liberating. As a consequence, I seem to get a lot more respect in general. I’m also a thousand times more empathetic now after the vaccine work, naturally.

Throughout most of my adult life and even as a teenager, I always seemed to get on better with women. I was never a “lad” as it were and most women seemed to feel safe around me. It’s not been uncommon for them to confide in me on topics they would normally only discuss with their girlfriends. Relationships, emotions and such like. Ironic as I considered myself somewhat emotionally immature back then. For a while I assumed it was because I used to be a bit of a Beta male. To an extent I was, but since I’ve had to step up over the last few years, I seem to have struck a balance between being beta, bordering on pathetic and being a strong and confident man. It’s not something I’ve actively tried to achieve though, it just happened. I’ll never be the “lad” I mentioned though.

I digressed a little again didn’t I? How new.

The point I was trying to make is how do I form a deep connection with a potential new partner if I don’t know what the new me would be like in a relationship? I’ve learned many lessons from my past relationships, and particularly from my regrets after losing My Lady, but I don’t know how they would manifest with someone new. I guess the only way I’ll find out is when I get with someone. It’ll be one of the bravest things I’ve done in a long time when it comes. I can’t lie though, I’m starting to look forward to it. Lots. I’ve missed the adrenaline of liking someone and it being returned, regardless of any complications. Like I said in the last post, there’s a vibe in the air I can’t place. I’m quite looking forward to finding out what it is. I’ve learned to trust my instincts (mostly) and I’ve felt lighter, almost airy of late. It’s been a breath of fresh air, even if I can’t clarify it…

Yet…

2024 is looking like being a very interesting year. I’m almost impatient to see where it will lead me. Life is what we make of it of course, but after all my banging on about the “feels”, I’m very much looking forward to seeing if anything will happen on that level. One thing I know is that after all the shit I’ve been through, I deserve a bit of happiness and I’ll grab it with both hands should the opportunity arise. I just hope someone feels the same or similar when it happens. I really don’t want a one sided vibe however nice the “feels” are. Do I not deserve to be happy again after so long? Hopefully any potential partner will understand that they would not be living in the shadow of My Lady. Far from it. My Lady will always be a part of me but it wouldn’t take anything away from any potential new love.

There’s that L word again…

As obvious a statement as it is, humans are strange things at times. As a widow one gets incredibly lonely at times. Another obvious statement but bear with me. If there’s one thing I am, it’s a loyal bunny. In all the 13 years My Lady and I were together, I was never attracted to anyone else once. I was so secure in my relationship that I also never thought once that anyone else would be interested in me other than her. It simply never crossed my mind. Indeed, a few times in social settings, she would get annoyed with me because someone was apparently flirting with me. Hand on heart, I was completely oblivious every single time. I always thought that they were just being friendly and we were just getting on. I’ve never been that good at reading signals. No idea why though which is probably half the problem.

Roughly a year after My Lady died, I connected with one of the Headcase girls. She approached me, but not in a flirty way. She was going through a traumatic break up and it was the year anniversary of My Lady dying. We were both going through hell at the time. We got talking and eventually we got so close, I realized that the connection was tapping into the same part of me that My Lady had. We talked every single day, sending little videos and photos of our day. It got us through so many heartaches. It freaked me out for a while. I felt so guilty and disloyal. She lives five thousand miles away in California, and it’s not like I could have gone to see her and got together with her even if I wanted to. Eventually, I caught the “feels” for her a bit. Cue even more guilt. The last thing I was ready for, or wanted was to have feelings for another so early after My Lady died. But obviously no one develops feelings for anyone intentionally. It just “happens”. Everyone knows this.

It was much like this with My Lady. Neither of us wanted a relationship with anyone at the time we met. If anything we were both enjoying being completely free after us both having had a toxic relationship before we met. If anything, we actively tried to avoid falling in love with each other. We always said over the years how neither of us wanted it but we fell regardless. The feelings were completely unbidden and even unwanted. Some would say that this is one definition of “true love”. Despite our best efforts, we did indeed fall arse over tit in love with each other. Hook, line and sinker. To the point where, we felt like we were not meeting each other for the first time, but that we were meeting each other again. Again, some say one definition of “soul mates”. It was relatively “simple”.

It was relatively simple with the girl in California too. She was newly single, I was single. Other than my guilt as a new widow there were no complications other than the obvious distance. We spent most of 2021 with each other in a way, even if it was only online. For a time we had discussed what would happen if we lived close to each other. We even agreed that there might of been a chance of us getting together in some fashion. Eventually she found love again and got a boyfriend. Weirdly, despite having the feels for her, I was genuinely happy for her. After all the relationship trauma, she had found happiness again. At that point, being the decent chap I am, my interactions with her changed to strictly friendship. Part of me was sad, part was happy for her and part of me was relieved. We continue to be super close friends to this day. I doubt anything could change that after being so close.

Fast forward a year. I got to know another one of the Headcase girls really well. Not like before though. After a few months, I caught the feels for her too. It really annoyed me at the time. This time, I didn’t let on. I was a lot stronger by then, and knew full well it wasn’t going to happen. She also lived in a different country even if it was closer, being in Europe. I better understood by then how my loneliness can make me want that kind of connection having spent most of my adult life married. It came to a head when I met her at the headcase meetup in Manchester for the Machine Head gig. The night before the gig, when most of us were quite drunk, I remember saying to a couple of the guys how much I liked her. It was at that point, I had a chat with myself and tried to put it to bed.

Fast forward another year. It happened again. One of the loveliest souls. I always had a soft spot for her but not like that. After countless deep conversations about so many deeply personal things, I think she would be heartbroken to think I had caught the feels for her. I wrestled with this for some time and for a while it got much worse. I even used the “L” word a few times when confiding in friends about it. That was the final straw. I couldn’t carry on like that. As far as I know she has no clue how I felt to this day. I hope so anyway. I treasure her friendship more than anything and would never knowingly do anything to jeopardize that. So, again, I dealt with that too. It took longer this time but I moved on and all is well. So that’s three times in as many years. It’s bloody annoying. I feel like a bloody teenager!

Every time I’ve caught the feels since My Lady died there has been a complication of some kind. Distance, friendships, or the person in question being married, even if they were split up. Why are these things so rarely simple? I’m starting to think I’ll forever be alone. Strange thing is, part of me is content with that. The other part wants something deeper in life. I crave connection beyond friendship. It will be four years next month. Four years… Many widows find someone in much less time. It’s a strange fact that statistically, those widows that were closest to their departed find new love quicker.

When will it be my turn? I’m in no hurry and my home situation isn’t exactly conducive to engendering new love, but as I mentioned in my last post, I really think my heart is ready for it. I have to be so careful though. If I let myself go with the flow, I know I’ll struggle to keep myself in check when I find THAT connection. What if they are not in a position to act on it if they had the feels for ME? Being a man of integrity, I couldn’t bear being the cause of anyone else’s pain or suffering. Being attracted to someone equally as vulnerable as me, much like the married one I mentioned can be so dangerous even if the marriage has ended. Then, what if they had children too? How to deal with that situation? It makes my mind swim. It would be just my luck to fall for someone with a complicated situation. Coming full circle however, we don’t “choose” who we catch the feels for do we? What if they felt the same? It’s bound to happen sooner or later. As much of a gentleman as I am, I’m getting fed up with denying myself a bit of happiness.

For some reason I feel something is on the horizon. I’ll be damned if I know what though. It’s just a vibe. Maybe it’s just feeling like I’m ready. I know that when it comes though I’ll struggle to deny myself this time. Of course that’s only if someone actually caught the feels for me too. Wouldn’t that be nice? I think I’d love that regardless of complications. That’s quite worrying. I guess what will be, will be.

I have to keep focused on my life on my own though. I can’t live a life waiting for someone to come along, but I am starting to feel I’m more ready for it when it comes. When it does, I think I will welcome it with open arms. If it does though, it will have to be a slow burn. I don’t want a whirlwind ideally. Having had so little control over my life and feelings over the last few years, I must keep some control over myself. No doubt the Cosmos will have other ideas though. It would be just my luck that someone will come along, giving all the signals and I’ll miss it completely. As a good friend of mine said signs are all well and good but I need SIGNIER signs. That transition from friends to “I like you” is one of the hardest bits I think, even if both parties suspect the other feels the same. Once you say it, you can’t unsay it. It’s out there. That’s a big girls pants moment if ever I knew one! I wonder if I will be brave enough when that moment comes. I hope so.

So mote it be…

I’ve just spent a short while reading the post of a fellow widow on WordPress. Just the term “fellow widow” has a strange ring to it even now, nearly four years after My Lady died. The post documents the feeling of a desire for big change, among other things. I related to it so much it brought a tear to my eye. If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time, you will know that this is something I have thought about countless times. I find it a little bit strange, given that the very thing that destroyed my life was the biggest change imaginable. For what seems an eternity, I had crippling anxiety at the very thought of uncertainty and change. One of many contradictions I’ve experienced in the last four years.

The comfort zone of trying to live in a time bubble of before My Lady died got me through some of that time, I guess. Lock down came only ten days after the funeral so it was easy to stay in that bubble for most of 2020. After a while, I realized that very bubble was an illusion, and one that was destroying me even further. I’ve said it before, but the man I was before she died, died with her. If only she could see me now.

I struggle to know what my ‘comfort zone’ is now. It changes regularly. Sometimes it’s at work. Sometimes it’s when working on my music. Sometimes and probably when I feel the most comfortable it’s when I’m spending time with my headcase family. They don’t know the old me either. They know this and embrace the changes in me they’ve seen since we found each other during the pandemic. That was less than a year after My Lady died, so they have seen nearly all of the changes, from dying my hair for the first time, to my time in the vaccination program, (which also changed me forever) to settling into my new role in electronics and the confidence it gave me back. They have embraced it all and cheered me on at every stage. I’ll always treasure them for that. I’m very lucky to have found them. I wish I could say the same for some of the people that were supposed to my/our close friends.

Sat here bashing out this drivel, painting my nails black for the umpteenth time and looking back over the last four years, it’s very surreal. It just motivates me to make even bigger changes in my life, just like the fellow widow I mentioned. The question is, much like her, is what’s actually possible and what isn’t. The ideal scenario in some ways, is to move home into the one bedroom bungalow I’ve thought about so much and live on my own with Mr C. Despite catching the feels for someone during the last four years, (that was confusing) I don’t want to live with anyone ever again. At least that’s how I feel right now anyway. It still feels like a betrayal of sorts.

I’m fifty this year. Fifty… Weird. I have 20 years of working life left if I’m lucky and the desire to make my life solely mine is just getting stronger. At what point am I going to have this? True freedom. Once you become a parent, you always will be. It sounds an obvious, maybe even stupid thing to say and I said to my Princeling a few times that it wouldn’t matter if he was old, that would never change, but My Lady and I always planned to move to Wiltshire and live our own life on OUR terms eventually. No doubt you might think this attitude makes us/me bad parents, but at some point it HAS to be our time. People can and will think what they like, but life is too short not to do as may things as possible just for ourselves. Interesting that I’m using “we” in the present tense.

We intended to go travelling as much as possible. We were always at our best together when travelling. One of my colleagues said to me yesterday that I should just go on a holiday on my own. Just for me. Then the penny dropped. Why the hell not? I’m not completely crippled financially any more and a few days somewhere in Europe doesn’t have to be expensive. We did it several times before My Lady died.

Berlin, Amsterdam (for our honeymoon), Croatia. Croatia was our first experience of going somewhere hot. It was divine. Sure, that one was more expensive than most but there are no regrets, despite paying for it all on my credit card for My Lady’s fortieth birthday. It’s just an embryo of an idea at the moment, but where to go? The first place that comes to mind is Italy. We always wanted to go there. Regardless, just thinking about it as a real possibility is enlightening. I’m not opposed to going with someone but it will be for myself mainly. Unless of course I had a friend on the same page. Having a good friend with me to share it could be nice too. The idea of sitting on a lounger on a hot beach, sipping cocktails, sounds divine.

Doesn’t that look divine? If I spent my last days with that view and good company, I’d die a happy man.

So, after spending some time doing my nails and writing the above, I’m sat in Costa again. I came to the Ham shops for a few bits but also with the intention of chilling here for a while writing. Ironically, given the topic of this post, I arrive at Poundland to find it has closed down. Poignant. I can’t even count the amount of times we went there for stuff. It’s also the first shop I went to after My Lady died. The trauma of that day still lives with me. So that’s five shops that have closed since she died. It’s quite upsetting, surprisingly. All these changes that she will never know about. Superdrug for toiletries and hair dye, Connel’s for stationary, Iceland for party food, the hair dressers she always went to, and now Poundland too. Being at the Ham shops is always poignant to some extent but it’s always worse when a shop she knew closes down. This is another reason why part of me wants to leave the Ham and start anew. I might be in control of my emotions when I’m triggered but it’s still screaming inside me. I think it always will be all the time I live here. No reason to think that will change I guess.

I took today off work, simply because I could if I’m honest, but when I woke up I felt particularly reflective so I decided to make it a mental health day instead. I need to do this more often. For the most part my mental health is ok at the moment. Sure there’s the usual stresses of work etc, but the depression seems to have taken a back seat to some extent. For now anyway. I do have the odd day where I’m down but they don’t last too long and aren’t quite as deep as they used to be. As I type that, I wonder why particularly. The thought occurs that I’ve had some truly wonderful times with some truly wonderful people in recent times. Any time with my headcase family is deep soul food for me as we are so incredibly close but I’ve had some lovely times with colleagues recently too. In the past I’ve been quite guarded with colleagues but since starting the job I’m in now, I’ve found one or two lovely souls that I’ve genuinely bonded with.

The work Christmas party was the perfect example. I spent the whole time with a lady that I’ve learned to trust quite a lot. It seems to work both ways too. We had a great time and if I do say so myself we both looked absolutely fabulous. I had no desire to get blind drunk, despite there being free drinks all night. Not only did I want to enjoy the company properly but I wanted to actually remember it this time. We were both in agreement that it was a great night and we really enjoyed each other’s company. Nice that we could be open about that without any awkwardness.

The other colleague is a young lad that, again, I have engendered a mutual trust with. It’s so nice to have new people in my life that I trust. Until now the only people I could genuinely trust were my headcase family and I mostly interact with them online.

So I’ve nearly finished my large latte and I guess I should go to Tesco and get my shopping. To be honest, I’m not sure I even want to go home yet, but there’s not a lot I can do here other than bash out more of this drivel. Having said that, it’s the main reason I came out at all.

Recent events have made me very contemplative about my life. New connections for one. The thoughts of making a new life for myself. One thing I’ve learned over the last year is that despite the fact I’m not in a position to do anything about it and I’m sure as hell not brave enough (yet) to, I DO have room in my heart at least for someone new even if my situation precludes it for now. It’s a very surreal thought, particularly sitting here with the memories of my previous life swirling around my mind.

By the same token, another thing I realized is that however lonely I am, the last thing I want is anything shallow and frivolous relationship wise. Another colleague that was supposed to be a friend turned out to want a lot more from me than friendship and it seems she would do almost anything to get it. Also a widow, she would repeatedly go on about my having “needs” too. In the end she turned out to be probably the most manipulative person I’ve ever met and I’ve met some really awful manipulators in my time. She was so lacking in empathy that at the very moment Mr T was being put to sleep, all she was interested in was sending me photos of cd’s and a t shirt she got at a gig we had planned to go to together. At the same time she was posting on Facebook, complaining about being at a gig on her own. She knew exactly what was happening to Mr T at the time. The lack of empathy was shocking, bordering on sociopathic. Suffice to say I was livid. I told her exactly how I felt but despite that she still tried to act normally as though we were still friends. I ended up blocking her on every platform.

To my disgust this week she had the audacity to complain, in front of colleagues, about how I talked to her. It was all I could do not to go nuclear in her face despite being at work. I stewed on it all day, drafting a message I intended to send her that evening. To that end I unblocked her long enough to send it and then re blocked her immediately. I pulled no punches. In fact I threw a few, verbally of course. I’ve never been a violent man. If she hasn’t got the message now then she must be the most delusional person on the planet.

Bye Felicia…

Anyway, enough of such pleasant reminiscences.

I consider myself grateful for the lesson. It confirms that I am right to be so cautious as to who is welcome in my life. Anyone who is, is treasured. Anyone else is not wanted or welcome in my life or home. I never invite anyone home having been a hermit for so long. I’d like to change that eventually.

So I’ve got some hair dye, more nail polish and I still have some lush products left from Christmas that Precious gave me. Once the chores are done I’ll tidy my beard, have a hot soak and dye my hair. I not only need it, I deserve it. The constant work/sleep routine is soul destroying at times, especially given I have to cycle to work in sub zero temperatures despite loving my job. I’ve cycled over two and a half thousand miles since the car died last February. For some reason I got it into my head it was nearly three thousand but no. Still, two and a half is insane. That’s all the way to Croatia and back and half way there again as the crow flys. God I hate winter so bloody much.

Wow, my latte is stone cold. I’ve been sat here over an hour bashing out this drivel! Enough consciousness streaming for this post.

Later friends x

So after nearly four years since My Lady died, I’ve decided to renew my WordPress account and have a a bash at blogging again. It’s been over a year now and I found several draft blog posts waiting to be finished. I’ll probably finish them but they will slot into when I started them I guess.

As you can imagine, a lot has happened in that time. I’ve been in my job two years in February. I’ve been to several gigs, met my Headcase family several times and even fell in love for a while (I think). More on that later.

During that time My Lady’s grief cat Mr T had to be put to sleep after being hit by a car. As you can imagine, I’ve been devastated about it. On top of that my ex contacted me to tell me a good friend we had back in the day had passed away. Then less than two weeks later, my dads friend also passed away.

If you’ve followed my journey through this blog, you’ll know that death always come to me in batches. Back in 2005, I had three in five days! More recently, three mothers in two years, followed by our elderly cat and then My Lady a few months later. Is it any wonder I have an obsession about death?

It’s nearly Christmas and I worked my cute lil’ ass off, doing overtime all through November. We got a good bonus this year too, so I’m out getting a few bits at the Ham shops that My Lady and I frequented countless times. I hardly ever come here now. It’s been so long this time but I’m still getting flashbacks.

As I come around the corner, I see the Costa I spent many days sat in, blogging away like a mad thing during the first year of this life I didn’t want. I have other plans but I was drawn in and I couldn’t stop myself. Obviously there’s no reason why I shouldn’t treat myself after working so hard. However, the sole reason was to fire up this old account and sit for a while writing. This is kind of where this blog started. More flashbacks… What joy.

So now it’s Christmas Eve. I’ve just done a final shop before tomorrow and Tesco was weirdly very well stocked. Turkeys abound and on Christmas Eve too. I can’t remember the last time I saw that. Maybe it’s just my perception, but although it was busy, it wasn’t packed, nor was it frantic. It was the same a couple of days ago when I went into town to buy the main presents for the kids.

Work surprised us with Friday off and I hit town just after 9 am. Obviously a lot of people were still working but it was eerily quiet. Ever the last minute monkey with Christmas shopping, I’d always ran around like a headless chicken in the past, totally stressed and barely managing to get enough items to satisfy myself. For the first time ever, not on this occasion. I started with breakfast at McDonald’s and then just strolled around picking up what I had actually planned to get for once.

I forgot what it was like to have money to spend. Even after Friday in town and today’s shopping I still have money to play with, technically. I’m sat in Costa again bashing this drivel out after the sensory overload of Tesco. It was strange. Every single time I’ve gone to Tesco since My Lady died, my mind swims with all the countless times we went there for our groceries. Today was no different, but it doesn’t feel quite like the stab in the heart that it used to be. I just pottered around, taking my time and it wasn’t until I came out that I felt it had been intense, hence my presence in Costa again.

I can’t wait for Precious to come home. She has a new kitten and can only come for the day, but I miss her more than ever these days. For all three of us it’s been a horrible and amazing year in equal measure. This time last year, Precious and I had discussed making 2023 a year of putting in a concerted effort to live a little. Enough of survival mode already. To be fair we have. She has gone to many gigs, as have I. Meeting many online friends several times. Probably the best one was a couple of months ago, when even one I consider my soul sister, came all the way from Portugal for the Malevolence/Sylosis gig in Birmingham last month. That was an amazing trip. The gig was phenomenal and we had such a beautiful time together. There’s a rock club opposite the venue and we went there to continue the partying. Much to our surprise, Malevolence had their after party there and we spent most of the night there until gone 3am, occasionally chatting with them. Another unforgettable experience with my headcase family. Soul food, as I am so keen on saying.

So now it’s New Year’s Eve. I’ve spent most of this week tearing apart my home. True to character, I’ve just let things stagnate over the last year. I’ve had enough. A couple of months ago, I did the same to my bedroom. I had left it almost exactly how it was when My Lady died. There’s still more to do, but keeping all her clothes in the wardrobe and drawers after over three and a half years started to feel stupid. Many widows I’ve talked to over the last few years have said that there is no requirement or time scale on these things. Enough now though.

When I looked around the house it became apparent that I was still hoarding a lot of stuff. Why? What exactly am I expecting to do with all this stuff that will ”come in handy one day”? It hasn’t in over three years, so clearly it’s not going to any time soon. I want a nice home again. I’ve said that many times to myself, here and elsewhere but this time I mean it. The under stairs cupboard was piled up with all sorts of crap so I pulled it all out and binned anything I hadn’t used in the last year. My Lady had a ton of craft stuff in there too. I’m never going to use it so that has to go too. Boxes of cables, network devices, connectors and more to get rid of. I’ve filled four bin liners so far. The living room was piled up with it all for over two days.

So now it’s all dealt with, on to the living room. That didn’t take too long and now it genuinely looks lovely. It feels like a home again. The garden and outhouse haven’t been touched yet but I’ll get to them. I finally feel strong enough, not only to tackle life head on, but I feel mentally equipped to actually DO it.

One of the biggest things that has helped with this change has been giving up Cannabis. I’ve been a stoner of sorts since I was 16. In around 33 years, the longest I’ve gone without has been three weeks, and that only happened twice. It’s been six months since I’ve had any now. I really think I’ve beaten one of the last and hardest demons in my life. I used to say I “want to want to give up”. Originally it wasn’t like that. Giving up only started when my finances got so dire, I couldn’t justify spending money on it if I was struggling to buy food at the end of the month. What kind of parent would do that? The first few days are always the hardest, but beyond that I started to enjoy feeling more lucid, mentally frosty even. Eventually, the cravings subsided and I stopped thinking about it for the most part. The first payday was the real test though, but nope I wasn’t tempted. I even messaged my contacts to say I had given up. To my surprise, they all congratulated me, wishing me well even though they had been making money from me for years. At this point I know in my own heart that I’m done with it. I’m actually proud of myself for once.

It’s now the end of the first week back at work. We have all been a bit rusty and a lot of things were going wrong but we all stepped up and got back in the zone. Most of us rarely have any decent time off so we were all grateful for the break. The end of the year was really full on. The business has done well. I’m also still grateful for having a job where I genuinely like my colleagues. Apart from one, but I’ll either cover that later in this post or a future one.

I have the day off today (Thursday) and most of my chores are done relatively early for once and I’m sitting here contemplating the next few months and what to do in life. I’ve being doing E Racing for the last couple of weeks after two years off. I decided just before Christmas to have a total break from music. I’m doing very well at the racing but I do need to crack on with the music. I have a lot of projects on the go at the same time. Mr Screamers vocal covers and my own music. My first planned release is nearly finished and I’ve had some phenomenal feedback, both from friends and strangers alike. It just needs the final mixing and then once I’m happy with it, mastering. Then I need to crack on with the second song. I need at least two songs finished before I release anything. After spending nearly two years on the first one, the rest won’t take anywhere near as long. I’ve done a ton of research on the ins and outs of releasing music as an Indie musician and there is so much work to be done it’s a little intimidating but I’m so motivated now. I’m even planning a music video to go with it. A new colleague is a hobbyist CGI artist and really wants to work with me. Watch this space…

It’s been ten months since I posted here. So much has happened since then. I have no less than six unfinished posts, sat collecting dust. I always wondered how long I would keep it up. I was never sure how much help, if any, it would be. My last post was in August last year. In the early days of this blog, I’d always post when I felt particularly griefy. Which was most days, for a long time. Sometimes even twice in one day. The process felt cathartic at the time. Now I rarely, if ever, look back at those early posts. I’ve got to the point now, where I don’t want to remember those traumatic early days after My Lady died at all. It’s a bit of a contradiction to be honest as I’m sat here at my desktop bashing away at my keyboard, listening to the mediation tunes I had on all throughout lockdown on repeat all day. Lock down came ten days after My Lady’s funeral. We were ‘lucky’ to have a funeral at all. Just the process of writing this post pulls me back a little to the early days.

At the beginning of February, my car failed it’s MOT. Badly. There’s no way I could afford to fix it. As a result, I was forced to cycle to work. It’s a nine mile round trip. I only had a bike at all as my Musical Compadre and his partner kindly gave me their fold up bike when they moved back to Ireland. Without it, I would have been walking as the bus service is horrific here. I’m very grateful for the gift of the bike, but it was small, had only one gear and I hadn’t cycled at all for years, let alone cycled often. On the first day riding to work, I nearly threw up when I arrived there. It nearly killed me. Much like after the first time I did a ‘povo’ grocery shop, I was sat there at work wondering what my life has come to. I knew it would get worse before it got better but Jesus, when will I get a break? Riding to work in sub zero temperatures was not fun at all. My beard is quite long now and one day I even had frost all over it when I got to work. “#fuckwinter” as I told my colleagues and even my bosses several times a day for months on end. Suffice to say, they know full well how I feel about winter. I despise it with a vengeance.

It’s Fathers day. Nearly three and a half years in to this life I never wanted and I still want to ignore days like this. ‘Shittyversaries’ I call them. My Lady made such a fuss of me on these days. I still miss her so much. Much like my birthday, I have no interest in doing anything for myself, other than hide away in my home, cleaning and listening to music. Since My Lady died, I’ve let this house and garden go to shit so badly. I’ve been trying so hard to be motivated to get it all sorted. It’s coming along but it’s the old 2 steps forward one step back routine. How new. Bored now. Most of the house is light years better than it was but the garden, despite a few days recently working like a dog out there, is worse than ever. Making a mess to fix a mess I kept telling myself. Only I haven’t done any fixing. Weeds are cleared, pots are reseeded, Plants are pruned, but now I have a huge pile of detritus left that I intended to burn on a bonfire well over a week ago. No doubt the grass underneath it will be dead, or close to it. Sat here looking out there, it’s a shit show again. God knows what the neighbors think. I’m surprised I’ve had no complaints. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to look at it.

Summer has been here for a while now. The days I spent working in the garden did me good. I’ve needed a good dose of sunshine for months. My arms are tanned already. My Lady used to say I “Tan a beautiful Olive brown”. To this day, almost everything in my head is still in reference to My Lady, or the life I had with her. I’m starting to think it’ll never change. The difference now, is that I wish it would. I’ve been feeling shit for over three years now. I’ve had enough of it. I even had some dark thoughts recently. They came and went in a flash but still. Not good. Don’t worry, I’m well on top of that at least. One thing I do know, is that I’ll always be broken to some extent. I can’t see why I’d all of a sudden, miraculously be happy and content with myself and my life. Don’t get me wrong, there are parts of my life that I AM very happy with. But these are all distractions from the misery, rather than the cure for it because there isn’t one. You can channel your pain through music, art, writing and a whole load of other things of course, but the pain remains.

Will this never end?

As I have mentioned before, I have only one person who actually comes to my house. My Musical Compadre. The only person I’ve ever shared my Friday night with, we’ve got quite close. Last Friday he told me that he and his partner are moving to Ireland in November.

So once they move, that’s it. No more people visiting me. Unless they want something from me of course, and even then it’s not very often. That’s the only reason anyone comes to visit, with the exception of Work Husband but he often works up north and lives in a different town too. I’ve got used to it to some extent. My Lady always used to say “If life doesn’t meet your expectations, change your expectations.” So I have. I don’t expect anyone to visit me any time soon. Why would they? They haven’t for months, getting on for years. I’ve been a hermit for so long now I’m used to it. It’s not even a poor me control drama. Simply fact.

I will miss my Musical Compadre. The only person in “real life” that I can talk to about anything, including musicianship. No doubt we will stay in touch and do the odd musical project but it’ll never be the same.

I went to the next steps bereavement group a few days ago for the first time in over a year and a half. The journey there was a bit triggery. I park up and wonder in. Before I get to the room, I can hear several people all talking quite loudly. I was a lovely evening, spent with some lovely souls. It left me quite reflective. Is this group going to be my only social life now? Much as I enjoy their company, I can’t really be my true self around them. There are, of course, my colleagues. They are in this category too. Some of them I’ve bonded with a bit. I’m not close to any of them yet though. Those good old trust issues make sure of that. I wasn’t going to the work social night this month and a few of them came to say that I would be missed. Nice. Maybe there could be a potential decent friend among them. I’m certainly not going to push that idea though. I don’t NEED anyone. It would be interesting to see what transpires though. To be honest, I’ve forgotten how to make a new friend. I can’t remember the last time I had a “friend crush” as it were. The minute I notice a bond forming, something makes me back off and go AWOL. It even happens with my old friends sometimes. Ugh. I’m still so fucked up. Losing My Lady has had so many different effects on me as a person. Obvious I know, but now it’s been over two and a half years since she died, I look back and it’s scary how much and how many times I’ve changed. There have been many sudden changes and realisations. I can also see the gradual changes now too. It’s surreal.

As far as friends are concerned, with the exception of Work Husband and my Musical Compadre, I’ve lived my social life on line with my Headcase family. When I say ‘Family’ I mean it. I only feel safe enough to be truly me around these people.

Lesson 565: How not to need anyone in real life…

Well I find myself in Costa to be on my own and write a bit. I’ve not done this for quite a while. I used to come here every day to write about my grief when I first started this blog. I’m kind of getting flashbacks right now. It’s not great. Especially now I’m confirmed as having PTSD. Since finding out for sure, some things make a lot more sense now. Unfortunately it doesn’t help in the slightest. I already assumed I had it but having it confirmed medically has left me feeling weird about it. I’ve been having flashbacks of various kinds ever since My Lady died.

As I left, memories of being at the Ham shops with My Lady start swirling around my mind. Buying hair dye from Superdrug (which is gone now), trying to carry too many carrier bags of shopping from Tesco back to the car, M&S for our date night meals, Poundland for cheap toiletries and dog treats. We regularly popped in the charity shops too.

We’ve lived in this house for eleven years. We must have gone to the Ham shops thousands of times. As I’m strolling back to the car, my mind drags me back to the beginning of the pandemic and lockdown. Barriers forming a long queuing system and traffic lights on the entrance to Tesco. Just thinking about those times is triggering. Everything was so fresh and horrifically raw. Lockdown came ten days after My Lady’s funeral. We were “lucky” to have a funeral at all.

After two and a half years, I get flashbacks of flashbacks sometimes. I still can’t go to Poundland without remembering the crazy woman there, accusing me of throwing liquid on her baby. That was the very first time I had gone to the shops after My Lady died. The whole experience was traumatic.

All I want to do is be on my own in my little bubble. Recent events have left me feeling intensely insular. I find myself slipping back into that trust thing. I trust no one and nothing. I don’t even trust myself. When I relax, anxiety kicks in and I’m back in fight or flight mode. I realise now that I’ve been in that mode for years now.

Years… How can it be years already?

Now that public life has returned to some sort of normality, it’s strange thinking back over the last two years. The different head spaces I’ve been in, the different forms of grief I’ve felt. The tens of thousands of faces I’ve seen in the vaccination program, the dirty minimum wage jobs I’ve had to take, and lots more besides. More most of the time I’ve HAD to have two jobs. I’m truly sick of it. Even to the point that I’d happily give up on all the vaccination stuff if it meant I could simply break even on my day job. Sometimes I feel like I’m working myself to death. I’m physically ok, but mentally I’m falling apart. Again.

So next week we have a stock condition survey which is being carried out by our housing association. Over the last two years, my house has not been very well looked after and it’s damaged in places. In eleven years, they have never wanted to check the condition of the house. Why now for gods sake? I’ve spent the last two days filling holes, repairing bits and pieces. I also replaced two window handles that broke ages ago. They only broke because I hadn’t lubricated the hinges for years. The Garden looks like a dump and I know they won’t be happy about that either. I got through four small tubs of filler yesterday and today, (Bank holiday Monday) and I need at least one more to finish it all. I have a little white silk paint to so it shouldn’t be too awful.

Job by job, I’m getting somewhere. I still feel anxious as hell but in the back of my mind, I’m ticking these things off so hopefully I might relax at some point. Ha, what am I thinking?! I just want September out of the way. Much as I’m excited about seeing Machine Head and my Headcase family, the financial stress of it just adds to the list. I’m having a quick pit stop for a cigarette and a drink. I still have the meditation music on. I’m really not sure how much it helps to be honest. I listened to it so much while I was locked down in my grief, it’s probably a trigger in itself. I can’t listen to my usual music at the moment. I need my head as clear as possible from now on.

Once the next few weeks are out of the way, my Princeling and I need to start focussing on some sort of plan. Two and a half years in, I’m still in survival/fight or flight mode. It’s not sustainable, either financially or psychologically. Hmm, I’ve said that here before. The situation is badly impacting the mental health of both of us. Nothing to strive for, nothing to focus on. In one respect I’m lucky, as I have my music. My Princeling doesn’t even have that bless him. Not in the same way, anyway.

Now the shit has hit the fan in several parts of my life, I seem to be more able to tackle everything. I have to be careful not to sit down for too long though, or I’ll start pontificating again. Sitting here typing way is a good example. Not getting much done right now, am I?…

Four hours later and I’ve done a few more things. More filling, more sanding. A wave of tiredness came over me so I had a nap on the sofa. Only an hour this time though. Still so much to do, I don’t know why I thought I’d get it all done by tonight. I’ve not even looked at the garden or the outhouse and I was up before 8am. My hair and beard feel rough from all the filler dust. I really need a shower.

I miss having a nice house. Will this shit never end?

Saturday. I got up around midday. I fell asleep while on Zoom so I guess they would have had to mute my snoring. It was the last Electric Happy Hour for some months as Machine Head are going on tour. As a result, our Zoom session was well attended. My Musical Compadre joined me to watch the show. It’s great to share it with someone who gets it.

I spent most of today going through my finances with a fine toothed comb. Same as always. More than anything it’s my debts that are the problem. Time to kill all the cards and get on with sorting them all out. It’ll be a mission but with the coming recession I can’t carry on living like this. It’s been two and a half years since My Lady died and I’m still barely in control of my finances. I will be soon however. It’s been really hard though. The anxiety that rises whenever I think about it gets so bad sometimes, it actually prevents me from doing the one thing that would make me feel better. Sorting it out.

Sunday. I’m at the Ding vaccination centre today. It’s dead. I’ve been told that numbers will pick up by the end of this month with it back to mass vaccination numbers by September. That’ll be bloody handy. What I wouldn’t give to only have a day job though. Much as I love the vaccination work, I’ve come to love having a full weekend off just as much. I can get so much more done. There is so much that needs to be done too. Repairs for one. The garden is horrible. The dry weather is killing everything. A hose pipe ban comes into effect in a few days so I’m going to give the lot a good drenching beforehand. Probably tonight after it cools down.

It’s always the same when I do a shift at the vaccination centre. I don’t have to be here long before I remember how much I love the job. I’ve probably said this countless times, but the people I have worked with in the vaccination program are all lovely. Every single one of them. It’s the best soul food after my music. If only I could keep some of them. Trouble is, the nature of the job is that people are never on the same shift all the time. Also, the team is made up of people from all over the place. Some disappear never to be seen again.

So it’s nearing the end of my shift. Despite the low numbers, today has gone quite quickly. We finish earlier these days. We used to open til 8pm but now it’s 6pm and chances are we will be allowed to go home around five. The lovely management often let us sign out for the original time too so we don’t lose more pay.

Sure enough, we were allowed to leave around five and let us sign out for six. Where else would you get to do that when you’re working for an agency? I took my time driving home. The Sun was still blazing and I had chilled deep house playing in the car. I’m always very contemplative on the drive home from the vaccination centre, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because it’s night and day from everything else in my life. Surrounded by beautiful souls, their only concern, the health, happiness and welfare of others. My friends are beautiful souls too, but my vaccination colleagues have a completely different vibe from anyone I know.

So it’s half seven and I’ve been home for some time. My Princeling is out so I’m enjoying the peace and quiet. I often need quiet solitude, and it’s become somewhat rare these days. My morning routine before work is in total silence. Originally because I didn’t want to wake up my Princeling but now it’s also because I simply enjoy the silence. (Cue chorus from the Depeche Mode song.)

I’m not entirely sure what to do for the rest of the evening other than to call work husband and do my nails. I’m not allowed to wear nail varnish in the clinical areas of the vaccination centre. It’s been strange having “normal” nails today.

I ended up going to bed early in a shitty mood. The backlash from all the good vibes is it puts my life into stark contrast. It sucks…

So I’m sat on a train, on my way home from seeing Prodigy at Brixton Academy. My headcase friend and fellow widow had a spare ticket and invited me to go. It’s been nearly three years since I’ve been to London and I’ve never been to Brixton. Now I knew going by train at rush hour was going to be intense. It confirmed very quickly that I have become a hermit. I kind of knew this anyway, but when you’re surrounded by hectic commuter’s, and after over two years of hermitting at home, the anxiety was pretty bad. Mr Cocktail Carnage kept checking in with me as he knows all about it, bless him.

The gig was amazing. I can’t remember the last time I went to a hectic gig. Both of us, shirts off, dripping with sweat and god knows what else. Drinks flying everywhere.

So that was some time ago now. I’ve neither had the time nor motivation to write here much. All my spare time has been used working on my music. Working with Mr Screamer was the catalyst for me to dive head long back into it. For once, I genuinely like my latest track. Mr BBQ from Brisbane has also joined in. Between the two of them, it’s transformed my song. It’s the most complete song I’ve ever done. I’ve got another guy who will be doing a solo to add to it. I can’t wait for all the final takes to be sent to me. It’s going to kick ass!

After getting stuck in with the preliminary takes the guys have sent me, I needed a long break from the whole thing. A reset if you like. I’ve been listening to deep house for over a week now. I even had one track on repeat for two days.

The last week or two I’ve found it hard to tell whether I’m even more depressed or exhausted, or both. This new life that was thrust upon me that I don’t want is getting me really down, again. I’m sick of worrying about money. It never ends. Somehow, my ass has been pulled out of the fire many times with vax money and benefit payouts. Without these, I’d have had the bailiffs round long ago.

I’ve been missing My Lady more than usual over the last few weeks. It’s getting worse day by day too.

Last week I finally received a call from ITalk, the mental health charity. I’ve been waiting since February. They confirmed that I have PTSD and recommended trauma based CBT therapy. Everyone I’ve told said that they thought I’d feel better having an official diagnosis. Thing is, I don’t know how I feel about it. Certainly not happy, I know that much.

I have at least three other mental health issues that I need therapy for. Who knows when that will happen? Months probably. I waited months just for a phone call. Every time I’m asked the same question. Are you thinking of hurting yourself or others? I’m totally honest about it. Day three after My Lady died I would have blown my head off if I had a gun. No question or hesitation. Boom, gone, and the thought didn’t scare me in the slightest. A bit like when the doctor thought I was having heart attacks. I didn’t give a damn. ‘Fucking take me’ I thought. Again, I’d have happily died right there and then. Sometimes, just sometimes…

I wish I had…

Last night I had the shivers and thought I was getting a cold. I did a lateral flow test this morning (Friday) and it was negative, so I went to work. Feeing tired all day, when I finally got home from work, I did another test. Positive…

All this time and I’ve managed to avoid catching Covid. I’ve seen literally tens of thousands of people in my time in the vaccination program. One guy even turned up in my vaccination pod with a positive LFT in a bag, asking if it was positive. I still didn’t catch it.

I caught it from my Princeling but we don’t know where he got it from. We have both seen people in the days leading up to first symptoms. I had seen my dear friend and adopted brother yesterday along with a few of his colleagues.

I’d spent all day at work with Covid. I’m horrified. I thought it wasn’t anything serious and I even tested negative this morning for gods sake. I’m so tired. Sat on the sofa, I’m going to have a nap soon.

After the above, I was completely wiped out for what felt like days. It was in fact the worst of it was less than 48 hours. I spent the whole of Saturday on the sofa, feeling like death. I’ve never been so sick in my life. I can’t imagine what it would have been like had I not been triple vaccinated. I’m sure I would have ended up in hospital. My dear friend and adopted brother’s mother has only just been discharged from hospital having been on a nebuliser for days after she caught it.

Sunday morning I felt somewhat better. I didn’t have the raging fever and intense brain fog anyway. Sat having my first coffee of the day, I look around and the house is truly disgusting. Much as it felt like it was because I was knocked out, it’s obvious that Covid isn’t the problem. I’ve been so wrapped up in my depression and grief, along with the constant financial stress, all I’ve wanted to do when I get home is fiddle around in my studio or go to bed. Ok, the laundry is being done, but clearly not much else. It’s not just the state of the house though. It’s the state of our LIFE. I’m getting nowhere with the finances. There simply isn’t enough for everything. I’m looking at doing a debt program with one of the many financial help charities. Enough is enough.

I need a clean slate on a few levels. Two years and five months after My Lady died, I’m still in fire fighting or survival mode. How do I break that cycle? Financially, we ARE still in survival mode. Having said that, what with the economy the way it is, I doubt I’m alone in that now. It’s no consolation though.

I spent the whole of Sunday finishing the rack build and cleaning the house. I felt fluey all day but not so bad I couldn’t get stuff done. I didn’t need to sleep every time I did something. The living room was still piled up from the rack build this morning. Eventually I got it all cleared down and deep cleaned everywhere. Right in the middle of polishing the table, I felt my heart flutter for no apparent reason. Once it started, it stayed. Then I remembered that I haven’t taken my antidepressants for two days. It’s the longest I’ve gone without in over two years of being on them. By the time I came around from the brain fog, I’d already run out. I can’t go to the pharmacy as I have Covid, and getting through to them on the phone is nigh on impossible at times. Fortunately this time, I got straight through and found an extremely helpful lady at the other end. They hadn’t received my prescription…

‘Oh shit.’ I thought. I remember all too well the emotional rollercoaster that changes in levels took me on. I’ll just have to deal with it then. I called my GP and they said the pharmacy should have it but they would order it right now anyway. That was yesterday. I paid for delivery and now I have them. Of course I took one straight away. I’ve felt that simmering feeling increasing for the last two days. I know what lies beneath, and all this time, it’s only been the antidepressants that have stopped horrific meltdown after horrific meltdown. I can still feel when they would have occurred but I’m in control for the most part.

After more work in the house, I finally hit a brick wall and had to lie down. I’m exhausted. Covid or not, I’ve done so much I deserve a nap, never mind a rest. Throughout everything I’ve described above, I’ve had the constant background screaming of my grief. “Inside I’m screaming.” Believe me, it’s a thing.

I don’t want to do everything any more. I can’t cope with the load. Mentally or literally. Now my Princeling is an adult, I don’t see why I should either.

So, days have gone by now. It’s Thursday and I’ve been spaced out on Covid all week. Tomorrow I’ll have had this damn thing a full week. It’s been improving over the last few days, however. My LFTs are barely showing positive at all now. On the last one I had to use my phone torch to see it at all so I’m nearly there. I haven’t left the house all week other than to empty the bin.

Having missed my vaccination shifts, we are stupidly poor now. As if we weren’t poor enough as it is. Hopefully things will pick up before long. The way things have gone, that seems unlikely. Why would I expect anything positive to happen to me?

Positive? I don’t see what’s so bloody positive about my life…

My antidepressant prescription arrived at the Pharmacy the day after my Epilepsy medication. I spoke to the same nice lady as before and she, angel that she is, dropped them off to me on her way home. For free. The relief was palpable.

It’s now Friday again and I feel a lot better this morning, aside from being a tiny bit bunged up, It’s pretty much gone. I’m just waiting for the LFT to come up negative now. One thing I have found notable is the lack of appetite. I’ve not even realised several times that I haven’t eaten a thing all day. Two pm yesterday was the first time I ate anything and it was nearly three today. No wonder I felt worse after a while.

I’ve still been tearing the house apart. I’m determined to get our life in order and the home is the best place to start. I’m done living in a skanky time bubble. It’s not healthy any more. Not that it ever was. If anything it’s dragging me down at a time I need to be as frosty and on it as ever. The living room is better than ever. I finally feel comfortable in it. Room by room I’m claiming my house back. My Princeling is just going to have to deal with another new me. I’m coming up with new routines for us to get into. Mr C needs more exercise for one. The first thing I do when I get home from work will be to take him out. No exceptions. Before bed every night, clear the kitchen down. All obvious things really but it shows how much things have slipped.

On top of everything, catching covid lost me a large chunk of money.

Living the dream…

Saturday afternoon. My Princeling has been at his friends overnight. Last nights zoom was dead. Only my friend in New York was on. We spent a couple of hours chatting one on one, then I went to bed.

I awoke just after ten this morning. It made a nice change to actually be up in the morning. I decided to take advantage of it and enjoy the quiet of an empty house, so here I am on the sofa bashing out this drivel again. At least it’s not because I’m hugely depressed. I’m still depressed, just not as a deeply as in recent times. The thought occurred to me yesterday that I haven’t properly cried for quite some time. I don’t know how long for though. It feels like weeks, now I think of it.

It’s the Queen’s Jubilee bank holiday weekend. Extra time off for all. I’m not anti or pro Royal, but I’ll certainly take the time off. It’s been dry and warm for the last few days so I hoovered the grass. It was so long I had to do it twice. Even now, whenever I’m cutting the grass, I’m always thinking about how My Lady loved watching me do it while sipping from a Long Island Ice Tea in the summer. I had planned to attack the weeds too but I didn’t have enough motivation to go that far. It’ll need doing this week though.

I’ve been doing the usual chores all weekend. Still, every moment doing housework, I’m constantly thinking about the gaping hole My Lady has left in our home/life. I wonder if that will ever stop? Housework isn’t exactly fun anyway, but with the added memory triggers, I find it bordering on traumatic at times. Especially in the summer. It’s not as if there’s anyone to appreciate it now though. My Princeling has no appreciation of these things whatsoever and creates a mess wherever he goes. Ninety nine percent of my housework is clearing up after him. Sometimes I can’t help resenting it. Regardless of having just turned eighteen, he is still just a kid though. How do I get it through his head that he can’t just leave EVERYTHING lying around? I don’t want to be overbearing and bang on about it either.

I had my review for the completion of my probationary period in my new job. I passed with flying colours it seems too. “I can tell that you give it everything every day.” The fact I’m punctual always helps too. I hate being late for anything. There no excuse for it, barring emergencies of course. It’s just rude. You’re telling the person you are late for that your time is more important than theirs. Regardless of whether you feel like it is or not, you just don’t do that. Aside from being bad manners, it’s stressful. So anyway, work are happy with me and even gave me a small pay rise into the bargain. Not enough to give up my second job, but it’s recognition if nothing else. Not that I want to give up my vaccination work of course. To this day I would love to do this work for a living. Maybe one day I could do something with my healthcare qualification’s and skills. It would be a shame to waste them.

Fast forward and it’s now Thursday. I’m super tired today. I stayed up to watch Robb and JMac jamming. I also got a little drunk. A lot of us were up and watching the show. It was almost like a Friday night.

The last few days and weeks have flown by. It’s Sunday. I’m currently sat in my vaccination pod at the Ding centre. The above was written some time ago. I’ve been so busy with work and music projects, this blog has dropped down my priority list. I’m not sure how I feel about it now. I’ve been writing here for over two years now. Over 105 thousand words so far. I doubt I’ve written that much in the last ten years. Originally created as part of my therapy, the intention was the be able to express my grief publicly, but with my closest not being able to read it. This is why this is an anonymous blog. Obviously none of the names are real.

It’s fast approaching midsummers day now. My Lady and I were hand-fasted on midsummer’s day 2008. My granddaughters birthday is the day after and I’ll actually be going to see her this time. I’ve not been a particularly good father/grandfather on and off over the years. For shame. Everything that’s happened in the last three or four years has taught me how important it is to cherish your loved ones while you have the time. You don’t know how long you will have. (Believe me). I’ve been trying to make more effort with everyone. As ridiculous as it sounds, this is not a simple thing for me. I have to train my brain to think about this on a regular basis. I’ve got so used to not checking in with people, some have stopped keeping in touch, understandably.

To this end, I drove to the other Mouth to see my youngest daughter yesterday. We have hardly seen each other for years. When I split from Ms Poison, she went out of her way to stop me seeing the children I had with her. To the point that I would take a hundred mile round trip only for Ms Poison to either be out or pretend they were out so I couldn’t see them. In the end, going down there was utterly pointless so I gave up, sadly.

Of course their mother just HAD try and poison their minds about me. I found out that she told my son that the only reason I stopped coming was that he was too much of a handful. I was disgusted. The poor boy has carried that around in his mind for years and I didn’t even know.

It’s now Sunday and I’m back at the vaccination centre. Low numbers again. I’m teamed up with a guy I’ve worked with many times. We get on really well. It’s made the day go a lot quicker and more pleasantly.

Today is Father’s Day. My Princeling was a little annoyed at my working today as he wanted to treat me, bless him. Normally all I’d want to do when I get home from a vaccination shift is eat and go to bed. Now he is eighteen, we are going to the local pub for a drink and he is buying.

The Canadian Grand Prix is today and even in the dry, it’s usually a good race and it’s likely to be a wet race. Qualifying was wet. I’d have to stay up late to watch it though. I don’t think I could cope with another late night. When I’m really tired, I make errors at work. I missed entering an NHS number for a patient today. I was so angry with myself. It was all fine in the end as I found the missing patient and my colleagues were lovely about it.

While taking a walk in my break, one of the shops were playing one of My Lady’s favourite songs. Not what I needed at all. Cue minor trigger. Still, after all this time, I struggle to cope with the triggers when I’m tired. It makes sense of course, but it pisses me off, especially when I’m at the vaccination centre. One of the reasons I’m good at my job is that I have a smiley happy face/personality, regardless of whether I’m faking it or not. The good old reliable “I’m fine.” mask has served me well over the last two years. Even when I’m feeling griefy I can still put the mask on most of the time.

Monday: I played guitar for a while last night. My fingers weren’t behaving at all. Even the old songs I know inside out were poorly played. It was too late to watch the Grand Prix so I went to bed. It’s sunny and warm today so hopefully I’ll get some garden work done after work. I need to chase my mental health team today. There’s only so much playing guitar and gardening I can do to keep my sanity in check.

My soul is tired. Very very tired…

I miss My Lady so much…

Sunday: Sat waiting for our morning briefing at the Ding vaccination centre. Hardly any staff in today, let alone patients. I’m on front of house for Moderna today. Numbers are painfully low. For the whole 12 hour shift, I have fifteen booked appointments. Fifteen… Last week I wrote over a thousand word post. I guess I’ll be writing some more today. Hopefully we will get quite a few walk ins. Last week I had around twenty. I was assured by the ops manager this morning that the program will pick up again by September. No firm date, but it will be happening and this centre will stay open for it. At least I know I’ll have something further down the line.

If it ever gets busy again, I’ll be wanting more shifts but having a nine to five job, that can’t happen. Unless of course I book leave and work those days. I’m not sure how my weekday employer will feel about that though. They’ve known that I work in the vaccination program all along and have never had issue with it. Indeed one of my new colleagues used to work at the fire station when I was there and they do weekend vaccination work still too.

I’m still adjusting to the fact that none of my children are children any more. It’s very strange. Many years ago, I used to wonder how many kids I’d have and when they would become adults. I’ve been a father for thirty years in September. Crazy. I have a photo of my first daughter and myself just after she was born. Looking at it, I wasn’t much more than a baby myself, not even seventeen at the time. One good things is that my kids have young parents so at least we will be around for quite a while for them… Hopefully.

It’s another thing that My Lady has missed. I still miss her so damn much. As much as I’m starting to get to grips with being on my own to some extent, I sick of having to. I just want her back. One thing I don’t want back however, is the old me. He was shit all round in my opinion. Lazy, unmotivated, thoughtless and a load of other lame ass traits. I’ll always despise him. How I wish I could have been the man I am today when My Lady was still here. If she was still here I wouldn’t be that man though. Catch 22…

Work husbands father in law now works as security here. We got chatting this morning and it turns out he has purchased a guitar beginners setup. He was asking advice on how to get started with learning. I always get a little excited when someone asks me about this kind of stuff. It’s potentially the opening of a whole new world for them. It might sound overly dramatic, but it is dramatic. For me anyway.

Over the last two years, I’ve got more into music than at any point in my life. I’ve taken it to my highest level yet. On Monday I finally had a taster lesson with the vocal coach I used to work with at the performing arts academy. It was like starting out as a semi new musician all over again. I would love to be a good rock/metal singer. I’ve tried a few things vocal wise and if I select/write tunes in the right key, I can genuinely sing them in tune, mostly and even with a little power on some. The first thing I wanted out of the lesson was to find out what my range is, then I can pitch my songs to suit. It’s also good to have a baseline to start off from. It turns out my range is from C3 to D#5. Around two octaves. Good enough to start with anyway. Especially given that I’m a smoker. I have a paid lesson tomorrow evening and I won’t lie, I’m rather excited about it. Trouble is I know it’s going to be addictive but I can’t afford regular lessons. To be honest, I probably shouldn’t even be having this lesson but I’m hoping I can get enough “homework” that I can make some progress when I’m not having lessons. I’ve known the teacher for years and we get on really well. She has an amazing and, I can’t lie, a very sexy singing voice. A real pro.

So now it’s around half four and all the Moderna appointments are complete. Just walk ins now. The ops manager just came and told me the last appointment at 7:25 has cancelled. There’s a good chance we will be leaving early today. That would be great. I might even have enough time to do a few things when I get home. I got most of the chores done yesterday so I’ll probably end up losing myself in Cubase, remixing previous projects and working on my two new ones. Mr Screamer is in the process of recording some more vocals for me.

Over the years, I’ve created several songs. Not one of them has been finished. I’ve never had the confidence to try and add vocals and I don’t think I’m very good at composing at all. There is only so far you can get being self taught. It’s time for me to start learning music theory. Ever since I purchased a mixer/pc interface, I’ve been playing around trying to write songs and I’ve made some half decent stuff. No vocals and no lead on any of it, so I’ve never heard what my music sounds like with everything in it.

Since I started working with Mr Screamer, I’ve had an amazing time mixing his stuff into mine. Back in 2020, I wrote a handful of words in a pathetic attempt to express my emotional turmoil, but barely enough for half a song. I’ve had good feedback about it but I’ve been stuck for over a year now. I sent the lyrics to Mr Screamer and he tried to fit them into a couple of my songs. Once we tried it, discussed it, changed it and so on, we definitely got somewhere. We just need more words now. He has a collection of words he has written over the last year or two as well, so I said he is welcome to use them in my music if it fits.

Ever since My Lady died, and my muse came back, I’ve had an album concept in my head. I want to express the transition from the fairy-tale love we had, through our life together and then the horror of her passing and it’s effect on us, physically and emotionally over the intervening time. Titles like “I am the storm”, “Rebirth”, “Train in the face” yes you read that right, among others. I’m still thinking about other titles.

Did I mention?… I hate trains…

I hope that by the end of the year, I’ll have one or two completed songs. I’ll be quite frustrated if I don’t. This is something I’ll never stop doing. There is so much to learn when it comes to composing, mixing and producing, it would take years and years to absorb it all. What I wouldn’t give to be able to work as a studio engineer for the rest of my life. If I could, I’d never “work” another day as long as I live.

Over an hour and a half to go until we close for walk ins. Chances are, being Sunday, that there will be little to no patients arriving. The centre is in a shopping mall and, again being Sunday, most people assume that the centre is closed, as all the shops close at four due to the archaic Sunday trading laws. I could think of worse things to be paid well doing.

So today I’ve had seventeen Moderna walk-ins and fifteen Moderna appointments all day. Since that slime-ball Boris Johnson basically told everyone stupid enough to believe him that Covid was over, society has bought into it hook line and sinker. I always said that I hoped society would not go back to pre Covid attitudes. Well it almost has. So few people wear masks any more. On the rare occasion that I forget to grab my mask from the car, I genuinely feel awful and 99% of the time, I go back no matter how far away the car is. How many people would do that now? The level of selfishness in society never ceases to amaze me. God knows why, it’s not like it hasn’t been obvious all along.

The ops manager let us go an hour early in the end. Even let us sign out for the normal time. I like her, she always greets me fondly and genuinely means it when she asks how I am. She wants to know, not be fobbed off with “good thanks, you?”. The phrase sounds so fake now. I don’t know why.

So another weekend flew by. Sat in my car in the rain in my lunch break. I ended up staying up a little late to watch the Monaco Grand Prix. What a race. Rain at Monaco always makes it crazy. I was actually excited all the way through it.

Triggered a bit this morning. I don’t even know why. Still got to crack on…

Thursday. I only got the call from the vets this afternoon. Bloods were taken on Monday and I was told I’d receive a call to discuss the results on Tuesday. My Princeling and I have been worried sick about Mr C all week. He is nearly thirteen. Very old for a Collie. Nothing a’miss with the results, thank the gods. Not impressed with the vet, leaving us hanging like that though. Really could have done without days of waiting for my fur baby’s death sentence. That’s what it felt like anyway. Once the blood results came it turned out Mr C was fine. Just very old, bless him.

So my Princeling’s birthday went without drama. He’s now legally an adult. That means that none of my children are children any more. That’s a weird feeling. Forty seven and they are all grown up. Man, I feel old.

Sat in Costa in town, like my early blogging days, writing more of this drivel. I’ve just been shopping for more bits for my Princeling’s birthday. Seriously, I’ve got a lot of anxiety about it. I always do when it comes to birthdays and Christmas. Always the last minute monkey. I was only waiting for the vaccination money to come in but I had several shifts cancelled. That’s nearly £600 lost. His eighteenth would have been spectacular, as it should be. He will legally be an adult on Saturday. I’m taking him out for a meal that day. I told him that he is buying the drinks this time. He chuckled and said “Hell yes!” bless him. Precious is in the same boat financially and we have been bemoaning that fact we can’t REALLY spoil him for it. It’ll have to be much like My Lady’s fortieth and last (as it turned out) birthday year. I like the idea of celebrating a special birthday all year. My Lady had lots of presents over the year. I took her and the kids to Croatia that August. Such a beautiful place. A part of my soul will forever reside on Lopud Island and Dubrovnik.

So that was last weekend. It’s now the following Sunday. I’m sat on my own on front of house at the Ding vaccination centre, on the Pfizer side. Thirty five patients booked for over eleven hours. It’s going to be a very long day. Despite this, and the six day weeks, I’m glad to be back. Not that I’ll get to chat much on front of house. Shame, as it was always nice to chat with my colleagues while we waited for patients to arrive. Talking to these lovely people is one of the things I look forward to most when I’m at the vaccination centre.

It’s going to be so quiet today the clinical band six has spent all week preparing a quiz to help keep us occupied. I struggled to remember anything about the dates for vaccinations. Time between doses, time after having covid etc etc. I’ve been sat here for a full hour and not one patient yet. We are also doing walk in vaccinations today, so hopefully today won’t be too painful.

One of my colleagues from the fire station vaccination centre is on duty today. So good to see him. It’s probably been nearly two months. It always cheers me up seeing any of my former colleagues from there. I still miss working there to this day. By far and away the most enjoyable job I’ve ever had, despite the sub zero temperatures at the beginning. Of course, given the nature of the role, it was always going to be finite. We took over the fire station to create a mass vaccination centre. We had to give the fire station back at some point. An experience never to be repeated. Even if the pandemic hits back with a new variant, that team will never be together again. Beautiful souls, every one of them.

I completed my probationary period for my new job yesterday. I expect to have my review tomorrow. According to my trainer, despite some errors in the last few weeks, he rated me near the top of all the people he has trained. Nice. Hopefully a small pay rise will be offered. I still can’t afford not to have two jobs. The vaccination work is a real financial life saver. I’d be utterly screwed if I had no other work. I’m still waiting for my P45 to be processed and as a result, the taxman is still hammering me. Sure, I’ll get it back in theory, but that doesn’t help me right now. My student loan has started being deducted now too. Mainly as a result of earning so well over the last year or so.

Friday was a blast. A few of the founding subsclub members that hadn’t been on zoom for months joined us. I haven’t laughed so hard in months. So needed. I’ve missed them lots. There’s been another tiff in the group. One guy who has been with us since the start has been pissing quite a few people off recently. He is autistic, and we have always tried to take that into account, but his behaviour has become somewhat creepy according to a few of the lady’s. He has been known to take screen shots of our zoom meetings when things have got frisky, and we have all got real frisky at times. Usually after several hours drinking. It’s not unknown for one or two to strip and start dancing around naked like a nutter. His social media is politically heavy and he doesn’t care who he upsets. A close Polish headcase, who has lost a friend and their family in Ukraine in a truly horrific way, posted an emotional piece about their friends and the Ukraine situation in general. Our autistic friend just posted a counter argument, going on about Syria and Palestine, among others. Many other reasons too. It even got to the point that a new chat group was created simply so the offended parties can stay without him there. He wasn’t on zoom either this time. I’ll be interested to see how that situation develops.

Over two years since My Lady died, and I still catch myself disbelieving what happened. Our bedroom is still 99% how My Lady left it. I was sat up in bed for a while last night, staring at all of My Lady’s products etc, wondering if or when I’ll ever clear out her clothes from the wardrobe. I’ve said it many times, but when will I get around to it? It can’t stay there forever. It’s the same old question though. When will it feel right to clear out My Lady’s clothes and so on? Will it ever? I still don’t know. Part of me wants to but the other part still recoils in horror at the idea. I’d guess despite all her clothes being in the wardrobe all this time, they will all be covered in dust. I haven’t even looked at them in all this time.

I found a post it note at the back of the food cupboard yesterday afternoon. All it said was “Just because.” It was the note My Lady left with a ticket for a drifting experience and a vase of red roses she cut from the bush in the garden. That bush was originally a small Valentine’s red rose plant I got her many years ago. It’s over seven feet tall now. I just stood and stared at the note for over five minutes. Why the fuck did all this shit show have to happen? Why us? After all, isn’t this the kind of crap that happens to other people? If only.

I’ve just had my first break. The weather is glorious outside. I sat in the church graveyard in the sun eating my lunch. At least I’m getting a little sun today. 12 hour shift on a Sunday and it’s forecast to be lovely all day and I’m going to miss most of it. The sun will still be up when I finish today but I doubt it will still be warm. Still sunshine is sunshine and I’ll take it wherever I find it.

One thing I like about the Ding is that it’s a town full of different nationalities. Sat quietly eating my lunch, I could hear so many different languages as people ambled past. I’ve always liked that. I even found myself briefly considering moving there at some point today. That’s new. I’ve thought about whether I want to stay in my house several times over the last couple of months. Now my Princeling is an adult, I feel like I’m on a countdown to him moving out. Until today, I’ve only ever considered moving down to Wiltshire as that’s where My Lady and I always intended to move to, once the children had flown the nest. A bungalow with a big garden would be ideal. Even better, one that backs on to the countryside. Blue sky thinking, but of course, isn’t it always…?

So, nearly the end of another depressed weekend. It’s not funny any more. I’ve been keeping quite busy, but every time I sit down, a wave of depression comes over me. Sometimes mild, sometimes horrific. It’s been quite the mixed bag of positive and negative vibes all weekend. My musical compadre came over to watch the happy hour with me on Friday night. He didn’t stay for the zoom, but much as I enjoy his company, I wanted to talk to some of my headcases about their private stuff anyway. I’m also becoming more insular again. If that’s even possible. I actually woke up before midday on Saturday. That’s something I guess.

Mr Screamer and I had been discussing music last week and he sent me a vocal clip he did from his favourite Lamb of God song. I played with the EQ, added a bit of chorus and compression, and the ubiquitous delay at the end of course. I randomly thought of putting it in one of my unfinished songs. Weirdly it was in the same tempo. I’ve never mixed vocals before and it was fascinating. I even chopped individual words out and put them in time with it. Mr Screamer loved it. We had agreed to chat about this and music in general Saturday afternoon. He lives in Canada so it was morning for him. By the end, I had sent him all sorts of things I’ve written/composed so he can see what he can do with it. I agreed to start writing a new track. It was great to have a one on one zoom with him. He felt likewise. I love working as a producer/mixer. It’s probably the best distraction from my grief/depression.

Sunday was warm and sunny. I even had my top off a few times. The weekend depression was doing it’s thing again but I was determined to push past it if I could. I cut the grass, tidied the beds a little but that was all I could manage, apart from putting the washing out to dry. Mr C refused his food in the morning. His back end has been quite stiff for some time. He’s an old boy now at nearly thirteen and Collies are known to have back leg problems later in life. I tried again a while later and he ate half of it. The little angel was mopey and down, bless him. I think his back legs are hurting him. Who wants to eat when they’re in pain? The scary thing is that it reminds me of when one of our cats died. Mr S had organ failure in the end and would spend all of his time laying under the radiators as his body couldn’t generate enough heat any more. Not long before My Lady died, we discovered to our dismay that Border Collies have an average life expectancy of ten to thirteen years. I didn’t voice my concerns to my Princeling but in my heart I know Mr C is nearing the end of his life one way or the other. I’ve been expecting something to come along for over a year now. I’m really worried. I’m also worried about the effect on my Princeling. Over the last two years, he has got a lot closer to Mr C. His eighteenth birthday is this Saturday, and as horrific a thought as it is, part of me is begging that Mr C at least lasts past then. Cue guilt trip… Strangely, I have been preparing myself for a long time. Once he goes, that’s it. No more fur babies of any kind. Mr T and I will see out the next decade together with any luck. I’ll be pushing sixty by then so who even knows if I’ll make it much further.

Much as I’ve been begging for summer all winter, now it’s pretty much here, it brings with it it’s own collection of triggers. Like I mentioned in my last post, despite it being two summers ago, I’m still taken back to lockdown in the summer of 2020 when I’m in my garden in the sunshine. My memories of last summer are all about the vaccination centre. I can’t remember much else. In 2020, despite the glorious sunshine for months, daily BBQ’s etc etc, I was constantly in a traumatised state. Sat out there, drinking, smoking and simply crying all day and most of the night, staring at the bonfire til two/three am. I poured out so much grief out there, it must have been soaked up by the ground. How could it not?

Monday morning now, and Mr C refused his food again. I tried to call the vets several times but they were closed as indeed they are at weekends. I called work to update them and I have the day off as holiday. I took Mr C for a walk around eight am so I could discuss my concerns freely without worrying my Princeling. I got an appointment for half eleven. The vet said he had no abnormal lumps and his heart was ok so he suggested blood tests to check nothing is a miss inside him. He has lost a lot of weight too. As soon as we were home, Mr C returned to his mopey state. It breaks my heart to see him like this. On top of everything we have been through, losing Mr C is potentially going to be the straw that broke the camels back. Probably for both my Princeling and I. Precious too. She lives in Bristol so couldn’t even come home to say goodbye to him if it came to that. This life is so shit… I don’t bant it any more.

Death, death, death… I’m sick of it. Other members of my close family are elderly now too so…

I’m sick of looking someone or a fur baby in the eyes when they die. My step mum and every one of our fur babies. To some extent, even My Lady. It got to the point that My Lady called me the death whisperer once. Not a title I like one bit. Even if it was appropriate in some ways. The vet was keen to point out Mr C’s age, saying that in human years he would be around ninety five and that he was doing well to have got this far. Not much consolation as you can imagine. The vets took some bloods and we await the results, due tomorrow afternoon. They will be calling me with the results. Deep down I know the news won’t be good. Great if not of course, but still, I’ve seen enough of this shit to know when death is approaching, no matter how fast or slow.

Random thought as I type: Who will be looking into my eyes when I die, if anyone?

So, I’m sat at my desktop as usual, pondering all of this. Can’t the Cosmos give me/us a break? Even a little bit? Just for a few years? Even my Cardiologist swore when I told him how many people and pets I’ve lost in the last three years. How the fuck are we supposed to heal (if that’s even possible) if this shit keeps happening? I’m sure I’m going to stay totally broken for the rest of my life. At my age, it’s hardly likely to get any better. Everyone knows that the older you get, the more people in your life die. ’tis the natural way of things unfortunately.

“Unfortunately”… The word hardly cuts it.

What to do with the rest of my day? I’ve just finished one beer and have already opened the second. Sue me, I don’t care at the moment. I have the whole day off and don’t have to be anywhere so why the hell not? I’ve barely drunk two cans since/including Friday so I’m good.

So I drank another can after that and I’m about to open another. So what if the beer runs out? I won’t be buying any more until Friday at the earliest anyway. Apart from a couple of positive blips the last few days have been crap. I’m tapping out for now. I’m off duty.

Saturday afternoon. Sun shining, meditation music on and the house to myself for now. After last nights Happy Hour and Zoom session, I got up just before three. Three!? That’s not happened in a very long time. I was still fuzzy for some time after waking too. After a few coffee’s, I went out to do some shopping. I hate it still. The constant reminder of how poor we have been since My Lady died never changes. I still notice the things we used to buy without a thought, knowing I can’t justify the cost. I fended it off for months with the well paid vaccine work, but that dried up and reality checked in some time ago. Just as well I was well paid. It’s taken me two years to get out of that middle class financial head set, and I’m still not quite there. Almost, but not quite.

I find myself in a strange head space right now. I was in the garden for a while fixing the fence… Again. And there was I, thinking those days were over. Flashbacks again. This time to the trauma I was wallowing in, that summer of 2020. The waves of the meditation music won’t be helping I guess. It’s the same one I had on repeat in the garden all that summer. I could still quite “happily” be out there all day, every day, in the sun doing my thing. No need to work, no need to go out and no financial worries.

Wouldn’t we all?

I have no idea what my grieving experience would have been like had we not gone into lockdown at the end of March. I’d have been pushed to go back to work for one. I was anyway while My Lady was in hospital. Some people just don’t understand how close some couples are. We had our problems like any marriage, but we loved each other enough to work on them. Constantly. Seeing My Lady on a ventilator was soul destroying. How could anyone possibly conceive of my leaving her side? The one day I did go into work, after much pressure, I was high as a kite on Diazepam and spent the day giggling at my colleagues. I should not have even been let in the building. They didn’t even send me home.

I’m on the sofa again, doing the usual. All through this long bank holiday weekend, all I’ve wanted to do is sleep. The depression is bad this weekend. No idea why this time. I did my long shift at the Ding vaccination centre on Sunday. Despite the lateness of my return home, I mounted my Princeling’s TV on the wall. Jobs done, off duty. So I stare at my computer screen for most of whats left of the evening, feeling so lethargic I can barely be bothered to get up to go to the toilet. Hoping for some distraction, I gamed for a bit. That didn’t work for long. I played my guitar for a couple of hours. That helped a little bit, but even while playing, I still couldn’t quite shake it. At that point I gave up and went to bed. That didn’t help much either as the overthinking kicks in at bed time. It’s becoming really frustrating.

Bank holiday Monday morning. I tried to go back to sleep many times, to no avail. I ended up getting so bored, I got up anyway despite still feeling exhausted. I booked Tuesday off from work so I’ll actually get two days in a row off. I intend to do as much resting as possible. I’ve bloody earned it.

In the evening, I played guitar for a while again, then ended up gaming again too. I only ever play Battlefield 1942. It’s been redone so it can be played online again. The game was released all the way back in 2007. Despite it being a first person shooter, I find it relaxes me. I like to find a spot to hide and snipe. Sneaky little shit that I am.

Tuesday now and it was the same as yesterday morning. I woke naturally just before my alarm was due to go off at six twenty. ‘No thanks.’ I thought and turned back over. I had another hour or so then my mind starts doing it’s thing again. FFS I fell asleep (eventually) over thinking and I awoke in the same state and still tired. Joy.

I’m sat with that meditation tune on again, staring at the screen, bored but unmotivated to do anything. How new. This vibe is getting on for over a week now. I hope I can shake it soon. I really don’t want to have to call the doctor again. I still haven’t heard back from the counselling team. After a while, and my Princeling still sleeping, I lay on the sofa again. Cue another hoodie nap. It’s becoming a habit (again) whenever I’m off work now.

Still, at least I’m not drowning my sorrows with alcohol any more. Over the last week, I’ve opened three cans and didn’t finish one of them. It wasn’t even difficult. I genuinely didn’t want to finish them. Fascinating what you can achieve if determined enough. Curiously, I’m aware of the slight urge for a beer right now. I won’t, of course, but it’s there nonetheless, niggling in the background.

My Princeling and I have not long got back from the Ham shops. I still hate going there. Superdrug being gone still triggers me. The more the world changes, the more I resist it. As pointless as that is. I’m sat at my desktop now staring at the screen again bashing out this drivel. Great. Full circle back to this morning. Bored now! I’m going to force myself to crack on. Just sitting here feeling sorry for myself is helping no one…

0ur shower has been playing up recently. Hot, cold, scorching. I’d purchased some Oust to descale the shower head and kettle. Usually works wonders. Trouble is, you cant treat the internals of the shower with it. Long story short, I ran it for ages with the head off and shed tons of scale came out. I had it running for ages until it ran clear again. I’ll be trying it out shortly. Satisfied that I don’t have to buy a new shower just yet, my mood lifted, slightly. My Princeling has gone to work and I’m painting my nails and having… Oh wait…

It’s a beer.

Sod it, I’m not beating myself up over this one. Once my nails are done I’ll jump in the shower, make my bed etc etc. Then what? I’ll probably be back here feeling sorry for myself. Living the dream…

Saturday afternoon, lying on the sofa chilling. The last two days at work were spent on through hole boards. I was singing along to some songs that my musical compadre and I decided to cover. I must have soldered thousands of connections again. I’d like to do this most days if I could. As usual my musical compadre joined me for happy hour. We jammed for a while beforehand. About time after all this talk about music.

He left before I joined zoom. I spent a few hours with my friends then went to bed. It’s was half four by then. Up at half twelve, I’ve done some chores. The usual never ending washing and washing up and paying bills etc. I did a lot yesterday so I’ve not much to do for once. Finally, some time to relax.

It’s warm and sunny outside I but I’m more interested in lying here on the sofa with my feet up. I have work tomorrow at the vaccination centre. A 12 hour shift. Fortunately, I have been given a full shift every Sunday right through to the end of may. Much as I need the extra income, it does mean six day weeks for the foreseeable future. Given that I’m usually up stupidly late Friday nights, I only get half of Saturday off. Self inflicted of course, but I get far more out of staying up with my friends than I would pottering around the house on a Saturday morning. Let’s see how long it takes to get bored with so little time off…

I’ve been a bit triggery of late. Some of the songs my musical compadre suggested we cover were particularly poignant. I shed some tears while learning them. Despite them being emotionally charged songs, I should be able to do them justice as I’ll have a lot of passion to put into singing them. Early days, so let’s see where it takes us, if anywhere. We’ve been banging on about doing something for years and never got round to it. At least we jammed together this time.

As I’m now getting the extra weekly pay from the vaccination work, I decided to treat myself to a pack of dye and a four pack of Hobgoblin Gold. It’s been ages since I purchased either. I’ve been very good on the drink front for some time. I only had two all night. I hadn’t dyed my hair for weeks. It’s amazing how much it fades in that time despite being permanent dye. I’m now deep purple again. The colour surprised me again. I forgot how much I love it. I wasn’t going to do my nails last night but changed my mind. I had just enough left for both hands. I didn’t do too bad a job this time, considering.

As I type, I’m feeling a little tired again. My Princeling has popped out for a bit so why not? It’s my only time to truly relax so why shouldn’t I? Not a hoodie nap as such because I’m not hugely depressed at the moment. A bit emotionally numb, if anything. I have the background feeling that if I went to the ham shops for instance, I’d be triggered a lot. Just thinking about it does a little. I’ve noticed that the last few times I’ve gone there, it’s been quite difficult, getting flashbacks to the first time I went there after My Lady passed away. Flashbacks to the thousands of times we went shopping there. Superdrug being gone makes it worse. We went in there almost every time.

It’s got me rethinking about how long, or even if at all, I want to stay in Roundabout city. I don’t want to leave this house though. Over the last two years, I’ve kind of made it my own, despite various bits that are still exactly how My Lady left them over two years ago.

But where would I go even if I wanted to leave enough that I actually do it? There’s still the pipe dream of moving to California to be near Miss Catharsis, among others, but it’s exactly that. A pipe dream. I could probably spend a few months in the States if I had the spare time and money. Every one of my Headcase friends has said they would put me up if I went there. That’s all the way from Montreal, to New York and then zig zagging across the entire United States, ending up in California. There no way I’ll ever be able to afford to do that without some sort of windfall. Unless I could work my way across the country, but that would be risky at best. There would be no point in getting a return flight as I’d have no idea how long I’d be staying and if I ran out of money…How would I get home? If indeed I wanted to come home at all. I highly doubt I would want to though. Once I start travelling, I know I’ll become addicted to it again.

As for relocating in the UK? My Lady and I always planned to move to Wiltshire later in life and when I think about moving, my mind always looks towards there. It was our plan to end up living there from the beginning, pretty much. It’s a beautiful county. One of the most ancient landscapes for hundreds of miles. Stone henge, wood henge, Avebury stones, Kennet long narrow and many more besides. I proposed to My Lady at Avebury. The place means so much to us that she even said in her will that she wanted her ashes buried there. Buried… As if I’d be allowed to bury her there. I’ll give it a bloody good try though. It’ll have to be bit by bit though, as macabre as that sounds. I’d get arrested for trying to bury all of her ashes there in one go. I’ll have to be sneaky. What a weird scenario.

So that’s been my week. As I say, it flew by. Work days have been too. Well, a long day tomorrow so I’ll stop here and have a rest.

Stay safe friends…