Tag Archive: other people

Theme from M*A*S*H

And so we wake today to the sad news of the likely loss of Scott from Frightened Rabbit.

This in the week that Coronation Street addressed the same issue. (Episode edited by my amazing sister as an aside).

We’ve recently had Project84 in the UK, demonstrating the sheer volume of the problem. We’ve had Professor Green make BBC documentaries about this. The statistics are as incredible as they are shocking.

84 men per week, lost to themselves. That’s 12 every day.

That’s very likely 3 men since you sat down at work after your lunch.

Closer to home, Headland and Gef The Mongoose here on the Isle of Man are doing their bit in raising awareness, and it’s great that they are sticking their heads over the parapet.

And yet…

People still take the piss out of a footballer for crying with emotion when he announces his departure from the club he has been at for 16 years. The only top flight club he’s played for. Grow up, dickheads.

Even “boring” James Milner sank to the floor in tears when Liverpool qualified for the Champions League final a couple of weeks ago.

James “cuppa and a rich tea, then I’ll finish the ironing” Milner for fucks sake. What’s wrong with emotion? Nothing.

Closer to home, our own little island has a well-publicised underfunded health service, encompassing mental health, facing further cuts.

It’s OK, though. The government have enough money to buy a shipping company…

Some further reading if you’re even still reading this rant:



Road Trippin…

…With my two favourite allies

It was a long drive (with snacks and supplies as the Chilli Peppers sang), but I had a lovely holiday last week with my other half, the Lady E, and her son (let’s go with “Little J” for him), and it seemed to short a time.

Sorry to be all loved up, but I had a great trip. Not only the company, but all the new people I met. Plus Tallulah the SatNav (bless her bossy little chipset).

So, back to everyday life after the sunny south coast of the UK. There’s going to be some disjointed weeks with Easter and Royal Wedding plans, which isn’t going to make settling back from a great trip any easier.

Still, gritted teeth, and here goes with real life (hmph!)

(Also, oops… I’ve been writing and not sending. Brace for a raft…)

Another part of me

Nothing clever this week,but I do have a lot of things written,ready to publish over the next few days, so brace yourselves!

I was reading Stephen Fry’s excellent The Fry Chronicles recently (ace christmas present- thanks Neil!), part of which retold a story I’ve heard before in which motorbike couriers in London used to be referred to as “donors”.

Which brought me to my point: can anyone explain to me why organ donation in the UK is these days an Opt in?

I understand some people object to organ donation on the basis of their personal beliefs. This is absolutely fine, and I have no quarrel with anyone who does not wish their bits to be used: an opt-out should be allowed, as individual beliefs should always be held important.

But why, when we hear about appeals for organs and shortages of potential matches, is the legal default not “please use anything that works”? As I understand it: even if I carry a donor card and make everyone aware of what my intentions are, one of my family can veto my wishes, and have useful bits burned with the rest of me.

This, to me, is nonsensical. My liver will be stuff all use to me when I’m gone, and may do some good for someone else.

So if you’re reading this, please remind everyone that I do want to be divvied up as would be most useful.

Silence is Golden

This week, I have privated my blog.

It kind of displays my feelings around the Isle of Man postal workers strike, and it will either get me into trouble with my own employers or upset one or the other side of the Postal Workers spit.

So, for this week, the silence is golden (but my eyes still see!)

Drink Whiskey & shut up

I was playing a gig recently, and I put on a piece of clothing that isn’t mine.

Well, I say not mine. It’s something I’ve had for well over 14 years now. By anyone’s reckoning, I think it’s mine, and it’s far far too late in every way to give it back.

The person who it used to belong to never saw me gig, and only ever heard me play any sort of guitar from a distance.

I wonder what they would think if they watched me rockabilly the hell out of a guitar, and essentially turn into a person they don’t know in the process.

Would they be proud? Would they even stay around for the end?

Well, who knows! I never could second-guess them. I know I enjoy it, and I’m looking forward to getting back to match-fitness!

My guess is, though, that they’d tell me to just drink whiskey and shut up (great song by Brian Setzer- check it out if you can!)


Here is the news

…Coming to you every hour, on the hour. (ELO in case you’re wondering).

Many apologies- I’ve had a busy few weeks with trips away, some work stuff, and lovely people.

I will blog furiously to get my count back up to 1 per week (there’s one missing, but I’ve “privated” that one as it’s just for my eyes), but for now:

Quick catchup on the last trip away: weather meant I didn’t get my first jump. Ah well… The good people of Tilstock have offered me cash to stay away in the future…

Quick catchup on work stuff: big changes at the place where change happenz. Fortunately change is what I seem to handle best in my professional life, so I’m looking forward to the challenges it’s going to bring.

Quick catchup on lovely people: I have very good friends, an awesome family, and a lovely lady sharing lives with me (hers, her son’s, and mine). I am very lucky.

The world at large gets crazier by the day, and I do get upset by the troubles around the world. May everyone in a troubled area stay safe and get home as soon as possible.


*update on last week’s blog: I didn’t tell the person that I think they’re ace. I’d rather not say and have what we have than say it and risk ending up without.*

Which brings me to this week:

Too frequently in the last few weeks it’s been pointed out (mostly directly, once indirectly, but I’m fairly sure I was in the crosshairs!) that maybe I look at things too cynically, always seeing the problems. That got me thinking about self-fulfilling prophecies…

So, maybe my glass isn’t always half full. I don’t think of myself as a cynic, I’ve always felt mine was a healthy realistic viewpoint. But maybe I should relax a bit and take a more “suck-it-and-see” approach to things.

On the other hand, that sounds like it’s going to hurt. I’m a risk-averse person, I know this, and it would seem that as time moves on, I’ve moved away from assessing the risk/reward involved to assessing whether there is any risk. If there is, it appears I don’t take it.

I’ve tried to buck that trend of late (ref parachuting, wave-dodging, audition-applying) but that doesn’t seem to have fed through into every area of my life. I’m not sure if it’s rejection I fear, or hurt, or just disruption to my routine for the risk of only a little gain- maybe I’m more of a spinster than I thought!

So, at some point I need either a) take a leap and break the cycle or b) get some kittens, and call them my babies- kids won’t walk past my place: they’ll run. “Run away from crazy kitten man” they’ll shout. (Erm, that’s a Chandler-from-friends quote by the way, edited to be snake friendly).

In short, I’m far too chicken to step outside my comfort zone. I always have been, and I probably always will be. As much as I may want to change that, it’s far too much who I am. I quite like who I am most of the time, but sometimes I suck. 😉

I’ve also learned a new phrase recently- Secret Single Behaviour (abbreviates to ssb). Descriptive of stuff you do which you know is a bit weird but you do anyway because there’s nobody around to say “dude, that’s a bit weird”.

So right now, I’m off to make sure I have some green jelly in to eat at the weekend when Liverpool are on Match of the Day (ssb alert!)


Do you want to know a secret?

Sorry that I didn’t blog last week. With one thing and another I just didn’t have it in me.

This week, I are bin mostly thinking… Should you tell people what you’re thinking? Not as in “I’ve been thinking about cheese” (that’s what Twitter is for!) but how you feel, especially if it’s about them.

I don’t do that, very often. I’m not that good at it. Deep and meaningful stuff always sounds contrived and clumsy, emotive stuff comes out harsh and aggressive.

It’s clearly something I need to work on. I’ve had the opportunity to practice both sides recently. Neither worked out very well to be frank, but they’re not stories to be blogging about- you guys know who you are, and I’m sorry that I’m rubbish at it. This is more about should you tell someone how you feel about them when it’s not what they want to hear. Not negative stuff, but soft stuff.

I’m a bloke, and also (probably!) an emotionally immature one. I’ve tried to be more open, but that inevitably leads to getting scared and backing even harder into my shell.

So, when faced with feelings that need to be shared (fear to be faced, barrel of gun to be stared down, wind to be pee’d into… Whichever metaphor suits you best), the time to do this is clearly not when the person has made it transparently clear they don’t want to hear that sort of talk, yet I still would like to let them know just how ace I think they are, and have done ever since the minute we met. Nothing to gain, everything to lose.

I tend to ask more questions in blogging than I answer. I do have a conclusion for this one though: gauge the mood. If it will help the situation, take that leap of faith. There’s precious little happiness around at the moment, and you’ll likely give someone the gift of a smile. If it’s going to lead to a worse position, hang fire though. It’ll complicate lives and bring more frowns. In the meantime, I’ll just be sitting here taking time, and one day I’ll tell you.

“Do you promise not to tell?”. Thanks Mr Lennon for today’s title (and a hidden song lyric- shout up if you spot it!)


So, it’s October. Supposedly and statistically the most likely time that depression kicks in and alcoholics turn heavier to the bottle.

Trouble is, I don’t feel like that this week. The crisp bright mornings wake me up better, I’m nearly uninjured again so can get back to training soon, there are adventures to look forward to, and new & exciting stuff to talk about. In short, light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

Only one thing really remains to sort out, but I need to stick that out for a few more months, and then take steps to resolve that too. I can afford not to worry about that right now, as there is nothing I can do about it so worrying would just be a waste of energy.

It may seem a little like Fever Pitch in that my ups and downs are following Liverpool’s football fortunes, but I know that’s not it. Honest.

I’m not saying that things don’t suck sometimes. They do. But my recent time of suckiness seems to be unsucking itself.

(I’m not overly proud of that paragraph, but writing it in proper-speak made it sound like a therapy session. Using ‘suck’ in it’s various declensions sounded easier to read).

The only plum that I need to finish off the pie (it’s all about pie!) is a bit more positive thinking from yours truly. So, let’s get at it, JB. Get stretching and exercising that ankle and get out there on 21 October. 10 miles to start do we reckon?

So, to finish off the song chorus for this blog:

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life. It’s a new world for me…

And I’m feeling good.

(If you only know the Michael Bublé version, check out any Nina Simone version on YouTube. I far prefer it!)


Full Moon fever

Just a short one…

The world has been crazy the last few days- short fuses, apparently unintended antagonistic behaviours, daft clumsy injuries, general aggro, and even I had a tantrum on saturday evening…

It appears that this particular full moon (tonight) is being a bit of a git. I never really believed in that sort of thing, but my auntie did my horoscope when I was months old and it’s scarily true.

Not the ‘cancerians may be feeling fragile’ type horoscope, but the one based on when and where I was born, which picked up stuff about me you can’t possibly pick up when a person is months old. Also, my Nan picked up that I went a bit crazy as a toddler around full moon time.

Of course, the moon’s influence has passed into folklore, giving us the words ‘lunatic’ and ‘lunacy’ etc. The “fact” that more murders/serial killings happen around full moon is not bourne out, and remains an urban legend…

In short, for the next few days people: just take that extra half breath before snapping at someone, and remember it’s probably not their fault: It’s the moon. (Cue Mighty Boosh cutaway…)