My Old Man

My parents split when I was born. Perhaps my birth was a portent of things to come. My appearance was that traumatic that it cast a curse upon them. Or perhaps it was that my father was a fuckwit.

Anyhow, as a small child, I have but hazy memories of my dad, ones garnered from visits to prison to see him on his stints at Her Majesties Pleasure or the few, so very few times he actually bothered to come and see me. I could weave tales here of sorrow that would jerk the tears from you but I don’t really see the point in self pity. It did hurt, having ones father not turn up and as a child I was angry and violent and some would say that’s a trait that’s carried on into my adulthood.! From the age of 7 up until I was about 13 all contact of any kind completely stopped. Then, one day whilst walking through London I bumped into him when he had part of his new family with him, 2 daughters. I’ve not seen hide nor hair of my sisters since then. In a side effect from my dad being feckless in the extreme, I have had very little contact with some of my extended family on that side and that’s a great shame to me.

From that meeting up until I was 19 any contact was intermittent at best with it not being unusual for months to pass between any phone calls or meets with my dad getting a 6 stretch when I was 16. I visited him several times and one time he asked me to smuggle in something for him, something that would have gotten me in more than a little trouble. We had a punch-up when I was 19 and that was that.

Just a few weeks back, I was passing through London and decided to call in on my Aunt Peggy, my dads sister. He was sat on the wall outside, having been released on bail from an unspecified charge. I found out that that charge? 2 counts of ABH, 2 of GBH (1 being section 18, that’s only 1 step down from Attempted Murder), affray and possessing an offensive weapon. He had a court date for a few weeks hence and he had the gall to ask me to help him to get off of the charge. I refused and walked away.

Since then I have learned that he has been given a sentence that means he will serve at least 8 years, and maybe as long as 12. I would also point out at this juncture that he is 60 years of age and to have that sentence handed down is, in effect, a Life Sentence which is no small amount of pathetic in a man of his age.

You may ask why I’m writing all this, you may ask. Well since I learned of his getting sent down I’ve been mulling things over. See, having had next to no contact with him and certainly no good memories or stuff then is it worth worrying over him? Is he someone worth mourning? I think not. In fact, I have much to be sorrowful for in my behaviour in my past which, whilst not absolving myself of blame, is down to him and the residual issues.

I want to go and have a good life and I have the meat and bones of that. I think, in fact I am sure, that one of the final pieces of that is to wash one my hands of father, in effect, I had no dad and I never did so I can hardly miss what I never had. To all intents and purposes he is dead, at least to me. Now I have to move on from that. Really I pity him, he has a sad life.

Did I Swallow A Dictionary?

I like to think that I am not an arrogant man, nor am I all that judgemental, at least not more than normal. However, what I am also not is someone who is satisfied with the banal, with the mundane. The reason I say this is because recently, I have noticed that people look at you oddly if you read a book on a subject other than a so-called celebrities life story. They mock you for having swallowed a dictionary if you use words of more than 3 syllables.

See, I think, or at least I like to think, that I am an intelligent chap. I speak 3 different languages. I am quite well read and I have an appreciation of the arts. Why then, should I have to bring myself down to the lowest common denominator in order to get acceptance?

You know what? This links into a larger problem for society. Too often now our children are taught that the desirable is the vacuous, the reality show contestant. Instead of expanding their horizons, we constrict them. Our schools and streets are filling with young people that think cracking open a book is worse than cracking open their Xbox. If one is bright enough or has a talent, then it’s a crime if that talent is not explored to it’s fullest potential.

Introductions...

After a few abortive attempts, due to work and training commitments and to me being a lazy steward of the bar, I am finally back into blogging. I am not sure yet how this blog will evolve but at the moment it will be wordy one, with a few photo's thrown in here and there. I certainly do not want to set myself targets of so many posts on such a topic as that way lies pressure and therefore a reason NOT to blog.

So as it stands, you are all cordially invited into my world.

Wipe your feet before you enter.