Attitude.

He had the right Attitude,but some said it was a bad Attitude.

From early in life ,to teenage years ,to twenty and beyond,he build in his attitude.

Not knowing where he was going,not even throwing his weight around ,

He gave way to the crowd,the obvious,the safe and sound,

He just had that attitude,that spunk if you like ,that I’m not going away attitude,

That sort of attitude can carry you a long long way I reckon.

So,wether folk say you’ve got the right attitude or a bad attitude,it depends from what side f the fence they are watching from.

It depends on where they’ve come from,their tribe ,their life vibe .

You see me,I’m a survivor ,always have been,and always will be,and if you want to witness that survival thing ,then come join me.

Attitude is always divisive,it’s always controversial,it’s always sweet and sour.

Some say they have a good attitude to work,well that’s their opinion,

Others say they have a positive attitude,and that’s their opinion too,

Mine is an attitude to survival plain and simple.

It’s not a gift,it’s not even special,more just doing what it takes to get through each day .

That’s the survivors attitude.

Look people 8n the eyes ,you can see it,you can taste it,you can smell it.

It’s just attitude pure and simple.

Saturday Morning.

After much snoring,then yawning ,it’s lazy ,without direction this Saturday morning.

Warm sunny weather makes the dogs pant and chant ,

Those events of previous days consigned to a haze ,

Most plans are in the spectator stands,

My observances ,my yawns ,my unread books,my untold pieces of music to learn,

Well,that’s my Saturday ,and maybe I should have gone back to the snoring!!!!!

It’s beats being down a mine mind.

Funny old Saturday morning as I look at Barney the bear and stare and stare.

Epitaph

He lived the best life that he could .

He wanted to know what it was like to be able to breath.

Think about that please.

We take breathing for granted or at least we did until covid 19,but he never knew what it was like to breath.

It has made me less than understanding to those who moan about their lot in life.

He lived life to his best ability .

He achieved more than most .

He was Dr Phill .

He just was special.

Retracing ones steps.

Sometimes,retracing our steps has at its goal the pursuit of a lost object of great sentimental value to us,leaving us bereft without that material rudder to our lives .Ive known many folk who while appearing to be quite spiritual in their goals in life are at the core material.Their security and ability to function is tied up in their things and though they might say they want friendship and companionship it is only as a veneer of social respectability that they foster folk.Its not that it’s wrong in itself I suppose,but it lacks gravitas,intent ,or really even sincerity,

Where I went that day in the depths of winter appears peculiar to allow myself to think about today of all days as it’s been sweltering in this part of Dorset.Funny how temperatures that you could say have the oppositie homes suddenly become the fuel of intense mental exercise but they do.They do,not because of any extreme macro idea or political idiom,no,they were intensely real to me,embraced in a moment of life that allowed me to genuinely attempt to know just what it felt to be on my own.As a teenager ,with all the angst that goes with it and the acute shyness too,you tend to glue to one or two people who sort of get you without being totally blind to your funny ways or foibles.Well,I,like so many ,had such a friend.We got on ,we liked similar things and even though we were different as young boys,we knew we had each other’s backs,Yes,he quite fancied one of my sisters and used me to extract the most mindless pieces off information about her that I found of no real import,but he certainly did .As she was a couple of years older than him,it always seemed that he was boxing above his weight and that sort of became clear as those days went on.

Cornish winter days often have as their backdrop rain and cold,cold and rain,wind and rain,wind cold and rain,rainy wind ,that sort of thing,It seemed like everyday over that period was like it ,and it was exhausting,It left you bone weary,and I’ve not felt like that in quite the same way until today when I felt similar,

He never got fed up with asking those questions and I have to admit that I sometimes made up my responses.Sometimes I wondered if he secretly knew she would never go out with him,but he kept on asking me about her,As those days went on ,I knew that he wanted to pack life in as it were ,I knew that he knew that he had to live life to the full.Now,wether teenagers ever truly lived life to the full is debatable,but John and I did and we cycled on and ur bikes,played our brass instruments and loved sweets.Yep,we loved sweets.Its Funny what you remember of your youth,and I have remembered a great deal these past months .Even though he had a brief life,I still remember him and the affect he had on me .

Today,I’ve retraced my youthful steps in my head because I’ve come to the conclusion that you don’t ever know just how long you have in the company of another ,you just don’t.

This isn’t a cautionary tale as such,it’s just that memories can come into our head when we are trying to sort stuff out .In my case,I don’t put much stock on things ,and if I’m having a bad day,I don’t really think highly of people who are material and I’m apt to judge them adversely.

So,I retraced my steps today to live in that memory,that crack,that time.If you don’t ever do that ,don’t worry,I’m weird,I know it ,but I don’t care ,I really don’t.

Having suffered profound loss as a teenager ,it’s been a few decades since I have suffered such a loss again ,but I have suffered since October 18th of last year .Loss is a density that can’t be replaced or replicated ,but the memories are edged on soul.

Today has been so very hot,but the memories of my two losses have meshed together,defying temperatures to again inhabit me ,giving me a peculiar sustenance of survival.

If you’ve suffered loss ,take heart because if we are not suffering or remembering ,then the essence of the loss begs a fresh perspective,

Thankyou.That is all from me tonight.

Can we ever truly know a person?

A soft voice ,a robust intellect and a smile that doesn’t always touch the eyes:Maybe a description of a number of people that we might identify with along the pathway of life.These characteristics ,though not unique,might attract the average person or at least intrigue them.Its apparent that the marketing folk think so because you only have to access any media feed via the main avenues of entertainment and you come across people who manifest these self same characteristics.

Spending time with such a person can be mutually enjoyable ,pleasant in fact if that doesn’t sound too insipid,and if a meeting in whatever format brings a measure of mutual pleasure,then it is normally followed by a mental positive feeling,Now,who of us would deliberately hide a foible or a characteristic that might fly in the face of that smile,or intellect ,and especially ,in my case,a soft voice.Why,that wouldn’t be too smart now ,would it,because we are all naturally inclined to put on our best traits ,our Sunday best to use an outmoded phrase .Perhaps it might take a seasoned people watcher to notice that smile ,that undertone sneer ,That judgemental conclusion to someone’s plight.

If our makeup is to think the best ,to ward off thoughts that are negative to see the good in another ,then even if we notice the undercurrents in a conversation ,be it with a work colleague ,or a person in a local gym or any other arena of life,we would perhaps tend to put our judgements to one side because it isn’t our natural inclination to be so perturbed about these things.

Over my 63 years of life,I’ve met ,mainly though my association with religious settings either in the mainstream churches,or through close links with a fundamentalist group,quite a number of folk who are outwardly pleasant and appear very together in life but I have to say that many have had a smile that never reached their eyes,a sad and profoundly dark side that manifested itself from time to time .When it did ,and these were in settings from the brief encounters right up to advising people who had formed relationships with people who had a dark side to their personality that had remained hidden to their loved ones .

You see,we never truly know a person,we don’t know what their past is,though we all think that we are good judges of character,don’t we?

My blog post has as it’s question a slight hint of moral enquiry,but it also seems to me to invite something of ourselves.You see,can we truly know what we are with ut a level of emotional intelligence?I write this ,not to insult ,but as a genuine imperative,because ,if we don’t know what we are ,then we might be that person who wants to put on a facade to ourselves and we might spend time watching others but never truly look at ourselves.

“I’m talking to the man in the mirror,I’m asking him to change his ways”

This song ,made famous by the late Michael Jackson was ,oddly enough,written by a female,but not ,at the time ,a famous go getter of the music industry,but by a struggling songwriter who was bringing up a child on her own and trying to make her way .

So,next time you meet that bubbling person ,the one with the smile and quick reply and soft voice,remember that ,like you,they will have their own mirrors to look into ,because ,in the end,we all have a mirror into our heart.

My coda as it were is this,”everyone is fighting a battle that you don’t know about”.

Keep people watching though,who knows ,you might be a natural at it ,but check the mirror when you have a comfort break and have a look at yourself too.Ive learnt that it’s the best thing to do after 63 years.

Sound words.

Heard a word that sounded absurd.

Looked to listen ,tried to listen,gave my version .

People told the enquirers what they asked,only they left out details.

Birthdays were reached and each of us felt grief of absent family.

Sounds words were heard but they still sounded absurd.

We’ve moved on,we’ve fallen for a change,we have to survive.

Oh,what to do when your stuck in grief,like a thief,your days can’t find any relieve.

Oh,from a young two year old to a 33 year old,there isn’t any help.

Sound words are absurd.

Silence is the order of the day ,

Silence and robins that visit their graves .

Blooms.

Six months ago they arrived in a constant flow ,with autumn colours then and they decorated the house and cramped every vase and receptacle available.Of course,they died ,their organic imprint didn’t leave the house because they were sent to this house of mourning.

Now,six months on ,I still remember those blooms upon our stools and hearth,I knew exactly where they were in the room .

Now,six months on ,blooms decorate the the same stool but inside the colours summer beckons me to approach .Not entirely knowing to envisage summer this year without him,I lose myself in the flowers ,sent by his nearest and dearest.This perpetual flora,this scent of hope,this serenity of silence.

Thank you blooms ,thank you.

You don’t have to be …..

You do not have to be a monarchist to appreciate what Prince Phillip achieved.

You don’t have to be that entitled,

You don’t have to be privileged,

You don’t have to be Rich,

You don’t have to be educated,

You don’t have to have to be religious,

You don’t have to be British,

You don’t have to be from Windsor,

You just have to be fair minded,

You just have to be human,

You just have to have vision,

Anyone who has been associated with the Duke Of Edinburgh awards scheme knows this,

I just had to write this tonight in this moment.

Thank your u HRH Phillip.Duke Of Edinburgh.

The Long drive!

Through the frosted windows at minus 4 ,I opened the door,

The Diesel engine spluttered and chugged it’s way to release its energy.

Driving to Stanstead through various trunk roads and arteries I locked the doors to settle my emotional scores as such.

Arriving at the lock up ,I waited to check with the mechanic and didn’t panic,

Walking in the countryside ,hiding from the wind ,my walk refreshed me muchly,

It seemed that I climbed up and down dale in those Essex downs .

Mask wearing in the local shop but friendly folk who cope with a smile ,

Change of vehicle on my return but brought all my stuff back and my trusty bottle urn.

That vehicle with its memories,it’s early morning starts ,it’s quirky ways to count my days and evenings,

Home to dogs who don’t want hugs but walks and food .

The Long drive like life and my climbs makes me wonderful how I cope and it isn’t no joke .

Won’t be on a long drive for a while ,won’t be jumping over styles as they might give me piles!!

Shared memories.

Wether we can fully trust our memories,our recollections Of past events lived in our own concept of time ,wasn’t his sole concern.That mistrust would be left for the shrinks,the purveyors of the therapist couch as it were.Besides,who really cared about his memories apart from him ,or so he thought.!

Driving towards the next service station ,they spoke of dreams ,of ambitions ,of textures in sound bites.Theirs was a father and son bond that often wrestled with the extremes,from life and death,to I wonder if we’ll see Cantona and Giggs,or Scholes ,to some Astro Physics observatory in Ireland that we I visited when he was 12.Driving on a wet M6 towards the M56 wasn’t usually something I ever did ,so the novelty gripped me ,it offered a change from my usual routine of early mornings and late finishes.I felt spoilt by his attention,encased as we were by the contoured metal frame of our vehicle.If music had been playing,then I wasn’t aware of it ,as those were the days when we had a radio in our car and if it was on ,then it was more of a background noise.Sometimes you can feel the tension of others when your in a confined space,leaving you on edge and not knowing when the atmosphere might change in the constricted space,but driving together,I felt non of that childhood tension,non of the motions of turmoil that seemed to send shock waves inside my mind.We drove and talked and the miles seemed to flow by until we reached Knutsford services where the tradition of KFC and coke finished the morning drive from a 5 o clock start from Dorset.

Usually,he hated getting up early,let alone 5 in the morning,but this was an adventure par excellence ,and one that has lived on in my mind as a highlight.As time has moved on as it must and surely can’t be explained any other ways without getting Philosophical about it,I suppose I buried the memory of those couple of days as father and son in a shallow space ,and open cast memory mine as it were to retrieve at a later time.Rather like a buried treasure ,destined to be claimed as my own.

Now,years later,I’m the only witness to those days in the car driving from Dorset to Manchester with our overnight stay and back again.You see ,I’ve entitled this post shared memories which is an authentic title,but the reader has to read between the lines as it were.Obviously,there were others who saw us on those two days at various points along the way who probably have forgotten as we each live and hold onto our own memories such as they are.My prose is a little rusty ,and while I could blame it on lockdown and all manner of things really,the reason is because i haven’t written and I intend to write memories of shared things that brought joy that can’t be eradicated let alone erased ,ever.

Over the years,I suppose life for us both took on different turns .His life through the teenage years at upper school and university equipped him for the tech age ,although he always thought that he had learnt more from being at home with various computers devices than he did at school,preferring to be with his friends and socialise at school.You can’t ever fully trust that you will make more memories and this Pandemic has taught many folk that I fear as precious ones are taken from us with us a goodbye in many cases,leaving the living confused at best,and totally bereft at worse.

I’ve treasured my memories of him,of his unique being as it were and while I can’t successfully watch his favourite team on the television without struggling to hold back the tears,I follow their progress along life’s way.

I have a mug in the livery of his team but the single word on the side is what I Treasure and I have welled up as I write that word even though it just said simply Dad.

Thank you son for that memory and all the thousands and thousands of others .