The shops are heaving with the weight of people trying to spend their 'winnings' from Christmas. It's chaos out there. I took my stepson on a quest to find a case for his new iPod and we had to battle round shops which had all sold out. Eventually we got one and we were glad to go back home. Vouchers have been sold in vast quantities this year, caused by the rubbish weather. My shoulder is giving me hell as I need to lay on it to sleep and I can't do that due to pain. So I find myself writing this in an otherwise pitch black room. I haven't bothered with Facebook as my wife has troubled with it existing at all. I was enjoying it but the enjoyment has been over powered by her annoyance at it. I started drinking bitter yesterday at half past three until half ten and I didn't feel drunk and I've not got a bad feeling at the moment. I do have cotton mouth since I took a sleeping tablet an hour ago. It's 3:48 am and it's unusual for me to be up. My son has had a restless night too. Tomorrow is another day without plans. I hope to watch a film at least and entertain myself some whilst I have holiday time. 

We had to get the kids out of bed Christmas morning like every year. With the expensive electronic presents this year it would have been over and done with too quickly. My little boy opened his slowly though and it was good to help him. I drove us around the various fragments of family until eight pm. Then I had large quantities of whisky whilst I played call of duty online. I have really hurt my shoulder though somehow and today's drinking session is cancelled for me so I'll be driving today again. It doesn't help that I sleep on it. There will other chances to drink. 

I went for a couple of beers after work. As I arrived I found that the Christmas conversation had already started. Our secretary seems to be sexually harassed  in my opinion and crude comments were made about her being a woman. To be fair she played along, not that she really had a choice. I certainly didn't join in but instead took the part of sober driver being a stick in the mood. Maybe if I'd have called her a big titted whore, then I would've been commended. So yes I felt a little out of the loop but I've never fit into that scenario since the back of the school bus. And the 'jokes' were exactly the same. Let me say I do enjoy going for our Christmas drinks every year as brief as they are with me living so far away. I get on well enough with my work mates so I guess I'm quite lucky for that. After all the words which were thrown about, eg. Flange, wound and Cumming,  I was surprised at the disallowance of the word Cunt as I described my dad to a fellow friend. A strange set of standards. 

They seemed drunk very quickly. Strangely quickly actually. I bid them farewell to go pick my son up from nursery. My wife and son and I went for a drink at our local. We drank into the night but my feeling drunk never arrived. Bitter, it seems doesn't  go far enough.

Christmas eve and we finalised our shopping. Now it's cleaning, films and then the best part of Xmas eve. Leaving things for Santa. I had the novel idea of convincing my son to leave Santa twenty quid and some new blurays. We'll see.

The last day of work began with a trip to Leeds to find the place closed. On returning to work I discovered our second guillotine in two days had broken. Soon enough one of them was repaired and I could print my final job of the year. It's not been a bad year at work. I think it's been four years since, by Christmas I had not got it into my head that I wanted to leave. I think the iPod has had a lot to do with work being pleasurable. I don't feel as though I have done any less work than usual. So soon enough we will venture to the pub and then later I will pick my little boy up which I am looking forward to. 

At work we have various boxes of chocolate etc as we are in the final working week. I have picked fir days now from nine am till half four. My teeth hate me and my mouth shrivels at each chocolate I stuff in. I believe my trousers will be falling out with me soon. I am not going to watch what I eat other than to check it's being directed towards my mouth. Alcohol shall fall on top of yesterdays and the circle of life will continue into January. Lifes too fleeting to worry. 
The wrapping is 98% done. The food shop is almost completed. 
In other news I have got the skeleton of a story down on paper. Now I can sit down and work on it. If I complete it I can then analyse what I am rubbish at. I've always wanted to be a writer so now I intend to become better than mediocre. I failed English. I write this and never check it back for mistakes which I accept there will be. Sorry reader. I hope to improve over all in the future. But I also intend to drink myself to an early grave...... Oh well you can't have everything.

As I arrived home from my journey through the snow after work,  my little two and a half year old came running to me with his face beaming. He presented me with a Christmas card which he had made at nursery. It had a painting of some description on the front and two small bells and a tree stuck on randomly. Inside it read "happy Christmas daddy". Well it warmed the heart of this miserable sod. There's not much that has made me feel like that.  We had a cuddle as he told me that he loved Santa and that he had sat on his red knee at nursery. It's the little things that bring the most pleasure sometimes. We watched Happy Feet together. After five minutes I wanted to turn it off but he said No. Then he started to get upset because he thought that the baby penguin had lost it's parents but it hadn't. He came round in the end. It's great watching films with my little man and I'm really looking forward to Christmas. Even I can't stay miserable for a full year.

A feeling of excitement ran down my back as the cinema screen at IMAX said I was watching the latest state of the art cinema systems available. The screen grew from it's tiny square to it's epic proportions. Tron Legacy was good fun. A visual treat but a kids film at heart. There is something more when watching a film at IMAX. It's worth the ten quid.

Here begins the final few working days. I'm thirty six and I don't get more than two Christmas presents so all that Christmas represents to me is time off work and alcohol. But this year I've been drinking so much that buying alcohol in for Christmas, has only upped the alcohol purchases slightly more. It's more like those around me drink up to my level. That is something for me to think about... Thought about it, where's my drink... Yum.

All this snow is not going to stop me seeing Tron Legacy at IMAX tonight. Really looking forward to it. Today I've finally finished reading a book by Clive Barker  which has took me over six months, but I have finished books whilst supposedly reading that one. I do enjoy reading books but I have to either have it totally silent or have music through ear phones to make me focus. If the tv is on my eyes are pulled toward it too. Plus reading makes me really tired so the odds are stacked against me but I still manage to finish around six books a year. This always inspires me to write too which isn't bad for me. So this last week of work will be mixed with winding down and getting worked up. The pre christmas week holds most of the magic especially with a two and a half year old. The magic will grow for the next few years until he gets to seven or so and other school kids spoil it. I remember my thoughts to this day about the unveiling of santa's real identity. I had trusted my parents implicitly up until it was shown to me that I had been deceived and lied to for their entertainment. I mean what difference did it make to me if it was adults or Santa? But it was the fact that they had maintained that he existed when my doubts were raised. I remember I then grew distrust towards them. 
I was eight. Maybe this speaks volumes about my fragile state. This was the time of divorce too. It all mixed up my world at the same time and I put reality second place from that point. I still had control of the fantasy in my mind. I still avoid reality where possible. 

Maybe two years ago I was watching the music channels at Xmas time and Silent Night was on. It brought a memory to mind and so I said it. 
"I remember being in bed aged twelve and my mum was working in the pub and I had sat in bed and sang Silent Night out loud, and I cried and cried."
There was a silence in the room until my wife said loudly, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!". 

Today the snow arrived as predicted. We had to go and do some final shopping so we ended up at the White rose centre. I struggled to park for the first time ever. I look at every person thinking that every one of them has Christmas morning and is on someones list. I'm closer to being in the Christmas spirit. 
I started writing a project to read back and work on and analyse if I can improve with practice. I think writing anything can improve my low skills. I will also be writing a review of a film and then trying to make it better so I can get better. 
This blog, comes out unedited as you can tell. But I do need to write more if I am to consider myself as a writer and not someone who likes to write. Fair play to my wife for asking about what I had written that day and taking an interest. That's all I ask.

We Went to the Tron Legacy launch night at our local media museum. It was dead at first as we entered. We were invited straight away to have our photos taken against a green curtain holding a Tron disc and have the picture put on the website. If I'm honest I did want to do it but infact it was my son and stepson who did it without inhibition. They had the new xbox 360 game of Tron legacy and the original arcade 80's game. We stood with our back to the old 'classic' as the HD image of the newer one held our interest. My wife asked what Tron was and as I explained it was a computer mainframe she interrupted with "no, I mean I've never heard of it, is it a film?"
I only saw Tron the original movie in the last twelve months strangely enough but I'd known of it since 1982, it's just that I watched Star Wars instead every time. I saw no people dressed amusingly in homemade outfits but then it was a few hours until the midnight screening and maybe the dedicated viewers would roll up then. 
I couldn't sit through a film until two am ever. I have got tickets for Sunday evening instead.

My brother turned up last night all excited about buying his first car. He has bought a BMW estate and rang up asking if I was in and saying that he would be up in ten minutes. My first thought was "who's died?". But no one had. I looked at his car from the doorway but then this thing occurred that is considered normal.
"do you want to go for a drive around the block?"
Why, i thought..."yes" I said.
So I was driven a few miles wondering what my role was in this situation.
"yes it's a nice car isn't it....er...it has all those buttons and that. Oh.. A cd player....mmmm..it's comfy"
And I was back home again. You see I have a van and my wife has a car which I also drive. So the shine of vehicular travel has lost it's amazement for me. Maybe someone who had never been in a car would fully appreciate being taken for a spin. 
I imagine if someone turns up after buying a hot air balloon or a spaceship and says "do you want to go for a spin?"
I would reply "do I ever!!!!"

I was going to go late night shopping to get the final bits after the rush hour had passed and my tired wife already was wanting to stand in the way.
I sat around waiting for her say so to leave and when it was given took my iPod from my son who had been doing colours for over half an hour. I had told myself earlier that I would play my film podcasts on the journey. When I took my iPod my wife said "leave him on it he's ok"
I said "no I want it for my journey"
She said "don't worry I'm not going to go rooting through it, you're obviously hiding something on there"
I shouted "I AM LISTENING TO MY FUCKING PODCASTS"
I was told that after all that with Facebook ( having a woman from Ghosthunt on my list) that I was up to no good and not to be trusted. 
All I wanted was to listen to MY podcasts on MY device. It was so unbelievable that I thought well I will stick to my guns. The truth is that I am doing nothing wrong. Why should I change that behaviour to something else? If I'm already in the doghouse why also go without a podcast? 
I had reason to call her about my purchases  so ice had thawed although I was fuming. If rows happen as often as mine it makes more sense to actually speak your mind. I may as well be mad at for my own opinion. But as I returned home quietly ready for part two , she didnt start again. We had an unrelated conversation which patched things up enough. But I tell you all know, I'm done being a shrinking violet and saying what people want to hear. Life is too short to be ducking bullshit accusations as well as things that you've done which are facts. 

I reinstated my 'book of Faces' account. Maybe I am setting myself up for a fall again but it will be based on innocent activities. 
I was involved in a conversation about other halves pressuring men constantly over nothing. 
For example my friend at work watched American football and had his wife stood over him watching him watch it and saying "how longs this on?", "why are you watching it?" and "why do you support Washington Redskins when you've never seen them play?"
His wife sat with him for the full three hours and my friend stoke to his guns all the more. Good for him. Wives seem to take great pleasure in picking apart what they don't understand about their husbands. It's like when I play my 'silly games' at night or watch my 'stupid ghost programmes'. Why don't they just go and do something that they enjoy in peace.
I think women are addicted to questions and men are addicted to answers. Women= what time will you be back?, where will you be? Etc 
Women will be talking to their husbands to get it out of their systems and the men will just be saying "well next time just do so and so.." men always thrust solutions at women when they are just wanting to vent. It's like when my wife is worrying about paying a bill. She will be talking and talking and I will just come out with, "well just pay it"
  but that is not what she was getting at. 
We are just different. Men are from Mars and Women are just fucking nuts.

I took my wife and child to Wetherby Christmas Adventure as the evening drew in on saturday evening. A lot of fields were used as the car park so it was very muddy. We followed the pedestrians to this winter wonderland not sure what to expect. I could hear the Carol singers ringing out of a sound system. There was a huge queue to a ticket office and luckily we didn't need to join it. We came across a garden centre and shop with the usual Xmas themed tat and a large greenhouse area full of real trees. So we walked on and found a cafe, then a ferris wheel, then I false ice skating area and then dry ski run. So basically nothing for our family of any merit but more of a posh family's affair. Christmas adventure had misled me. This wasn't so much A snowy wonderland as snobbyland.

I finally broached the subject of reducing attendance of family do's this festive season. From christmas to new year we can be in five 'get togethers' with the same faces. So two have been dropped. It's the same conversations all through the holiday if you meet to often. 
I said to my wife that I don't find it too easy to talk in person but it's worse if someone phones. 
I find people ring our house and speak to my wife not me, including my family. I dread phone calls being handed over to me as I'm unprepared. I have had people ring me up and then be silent. They thrust a phone call upon me and expect me to fill the silence. If I wanted to talk to them I would be doing the ringing. My wife says you should talk about the weather. This is the default topic for an Englishman. So I shall take note of the weather today so that when someone rings me I can say
" do you remember this one day in December when I it was particularly clement?"
And they shall it seems reply " fascinating do you have any more weather observations"
And I shall say" no, maybe you should just watch the weather, oh and by the way please stop ringing"

Finished works deliveries and went to Huddersfield to buy my wife a Christmas present and I'm currently enjoying a relaxing pint in a wetherspoons where I have fathomed out free Internet, who needs an iPhone?
This reminds me of the good bits of single life. I hope to finish Christmas shop tomorrow by getting loads of vouchers. I've got a hair appointment tomorrow with free cigarette breath shampoo at my local stylists. Then I will be ordering myself new clothes from my wifes Next account. I will be like a new man ( on the outside). I'm looking forward to a drink tonight or tomorrow even though I am enjoying this one too. 

It was my stepsons 13th birthday yesterday. He spent lots of money on clothes at the Trafford centre. I can remember being thirteen. I remember that the reality of having sex seemed like too long away although I knew I was not ready. Girls were very much on my mind. I also remember my personal hygiene could have been better. I did use deodorant but I had terrible stinky feet which caused me embarrassment until my twenties if I'm to be honest. Luckily I grew out of it in manhood. I never suffered too badly from spots I must say but girls didn't look my way anyway so it didn't mean much when I had one. I remember the school bus journeys home from grammar school through wilsden with friends. I went the long bus route home to spend more time with friends. Hormones raging as well as wet paper projectiles. I was ashamed of my blazers at school. The first one was a second hand copy which was a much darker copy of the real ones everyone else had. Added to this was the leather patches on my elbows which i referred to as solar panels for success , just to try and take the piss first.I was very happy to grow out of that but was then given a family hand me down from a distant cousin who It seemed was a hulk of a man as this new blazer's sleeves dwarfed me and I was all ready tiny. I had to turn the sleeves up on my blazer as much by as my hand length just so my fingers stuck out. Even my friends would laugh uproariously at what seemed like a blazer on legs had just entered assembly. I will not put my child through this.

Upon entering the art room at work and uttering a 'Hello' to my  hearing impaired workmate, it went unheard. I muttered out loud 'it's like Harry Potter and the Deafly Hellos. 
He heard that and said 'what?'
'morning' was my reply.
It's the small victories like that only I seem to enjoy. Like the time a friend we used to tease about being homosexual was having a cigarette and I said "if you were a film it would be 'Smokey and the arse bandit'. Not the funniest of gags but it was speed at which they jumped to mind I was impressed with.
Come on I'm no comedienne.

My wife and I took her two kids to see Hadoukan! Support Pendulum at Manchester Central. They were allowed to leave our side but as soon as they did, my wife tried to re find them amongst 1000's of silhouettes. My stepson went from the front to the back because he got a stitch after the second song, and that was just during the support. It was a great first gig for them but their stepdad outlasted them as electro punk boomed through the air and amongst the dry Ice and lasers I was taken back to my youth in Tumblers nightclub twenty years ago, when I would throw out some shapes to the latest techno tunes on a Saturday night. I had felt stiff and uncool through the support but came into my own and I believe surprised the others by 'going for it".
The journey to the gig had become frustrating when trying to park and when we returned to our multi-storey car park we sat for fifty minutes before leaving our spot. Half past one in the morning I climbed into bed with my bootie very tired from all of the shaking.

I'm wrestling with myself. Is it right to do what you are asked by loved ones or to do what your heart tells you. I was asked to delete one name from Facebook. I did it. But filtered through my infantile emotions I created a monster. I write my blog in secret because some loved ones would not like me doing it. So now I have to secrets but I don't believe it's right that either should be secrets. But they are my only outlet. I am a rock that cannot physically express emotion well and that caused me to go through self harm and near alcoholism in my twenties. I am able to regain peace with myself by being open through my blog. I see it as a positive in my life. BUT there's still the nagging knowledge that it's a secret waiting to be discovered. Long time readers will he aware of the threat of my diaries being burned upon my death or before. Not by me but by my wife. She fears the contents being read by our child or her two kids and unveiling details best left covered. My written life stretches back to 1989 since my first three diaries were carelessly thrown out in a room clear as a child by my mum. I consider my life to be my property but people seem to try influence that. Anyway I've gone on enough about it, not exactly interesting reading is it this bit. I will keep doing my blog. What's a bit more guilt between friends?

I have a close friend who reads my blog from time to time and he had a concern about what I wrote. My freedom was criticised, I was told that it was one thing to write about myself with an openness of my choosing but something else entirely to write details of others. It sounded a fair comment as he is a level headed man and I a dumbass. So I shall try and sculpture what I say to only give away things about myself. I don't know how successful I will be but I will at least try. 

Things are better at home. I appeased the gods. Got back into reading since it had stopped. Read Oscar Wilde to try pick up better English grammar etc. He was a bit of a clever arse but his language is slowly growing on me. Picture of Dorian grey was pretty good actually. Or is it Portrait? I've forgotten already. This winter cold is all very good when you can see it from the warmth of a pub window but to walk anywhere in it is hard work. Christmas will be upon us at any moment if we are not concentrating. I've heard Slade do their song this year so it has started. It reminds me of rooting in my mums room to discover a Star Wars toy of the Millenium Falcon and I was so chuffed. Christmas morning I waited expectantly for it. Ah mum was saving it until last! I finished unwrapping and it never came. Mum had been storing it for the woman next door. Bastard! 
I never looked for my presents again.

It was a birthday night out in Haworth on Saturday and I met up with a few old faces. These old faces were on old bodies too. Ten years have passed since this group of youngsters ventured up to Bronte country on their nights out. Stories were swapped with a vagueness which didn't necessarily mean you were or weren't there. Memories had blended into clouds. We all used to go for sure but each pissed night has rolled onto one long memory with only the most significant things standing out. I remember a friend falling over and breaking his bones. Also playing on the 'Telly Addicts' machine every time in one pub. There was a timed race around the dark church graveyard. I once decided that I didn't need a taxi to get home and would walk. I hadn't accounted for my walk including zig zagging and so half a mile away I crumbled onto the pavement and think I rang a taxi. 
I drove with my close friend who I don't see enough of and so I had two pints and cokes but strangely enough had a really enjoyable evening and was out longer than I would've been otherwise. We all swapped tales of body parts not working as well as they should and dreaded to consider what ten years from now would be like. The strange thing was that we were ten years older but had not been replaced by a group ten years older. It still seemed we were the youngest out that night too. People were slurring etc by the time we found a pub which opened until two am. I arrived home and once in bed my wife heard there had been a friends wife with us she asked if she had been invited. 
I knew another argument had started even though it was two in the morning. I am told I am embarrassed to take her out, like I'm ashamed of her. It's just easier to do with one of us babysitting. She was angry anyway. She said that I am secretive which is true. I must speak to her about things even though she isn't interested. She just wants to a part of my life. 
So two player call of duty will be served twice weekly. 

The last few days have been slightly frenzied for me so my blog was halted. I will summarise by saying this much...
After the excitement of  my first Ghosthunt night I  desperately wanted to make myself known amongst the group to hopefully get involved more. So I networked on facebook and joined who I had spent the night with. One lady who Becky and I had got on well with as well as her husband was on my facebook list. Those of you may know that some people activate silly messages that happen automatically such as: love horoscopes or happiness levels. This also includes fake baby info like you will have a baby in august he will have blue ryes and be called boris. 
My wife used my iPod one morning to see this lady's name next to an image of a newborn baby. This is after she saw that I had recently deleted my history on my iPod, which I do once a week so as not to fill up the smallest memory on the device with unhelpful info. From my wifes point of view it looked bad. She blew up at me. I said " the only reason you don't know who this woman is, is that you threw one about me going to another one and told me not to mention any of the people involved or things relating to ghosts. So in my view she had set herself up for a fall out of bloody mindedness.
This was a small row which kicked up the dust and turned into a shitstorm. Both of us resenting the other ones actions. We both feel trapped with each other too since we have a small son to protect.
The usual venom was followed by the usual silence at some ungodly hour of night.
I didn't walk out on her.

Once home unexpectedly I found myself at a loose end. I ended up painting again with my son but after yesterday's poor effort I said I should probably be in charge of the paint brush. Today he didn't scrawl all over my paintings. So then it was into the bath in a slow wind down until bed. My stepson disappeared to bed saying he was Ill. The snow seems to be unchanged at least for now. The house is now warmed to a degree where my clothes are in danger of slipping off. This is what my wife refers to as 'room temperature'.

I finally managed to convince my boss of terrible snow conditions. It took me one hour to get home and the further up I went the worse the road conditions were. I abandoned the van and walked home. I was White haired by the time I arrived minutes later. It's still snowing now. I got my boys advent calendar for him but he wants to eat tomorrows today. On my way home every pedestrian had beetroot red faces and cold expressions. I text work that crawling in traffic up towards my home with snow all over was like " the dullest monorail ever". I followed that text with " I've skidded twice but that might be just be the nerves". I wonder if I will get to work tomorrow.

After our tea I brought down the easel from upstairs and my boy and I painted. I would be told to paint something, usually a  T rex and then he would splurge paint all over it so it was a mess. I admit that this was ever so slightly infuriating. He would never say that it was a good likeness before he ruined it. So I told him his pictures were shit. I'm joking. But they are shit. 
Nursery are not allowed to say anything they create are anything but wonderful. But this will deceive them into thinking that they are good at stuff when they are not and then when they realise  that they've been lied to they will harbour a hatred for the world and grow up to write a blog about everything being shit and not be great at people skills.
Sounds famiar.

I arrived at the church half an hour before my friends new babies christening. I sat wondering if I was at the correct place. Even though I knew I was, I thought I might be wrong and everyone would be sat ready and I would turn up late. It wasn't the case. I positioned myself towards the middle so I was behind someone during the hymns.
The service felt too long and we were all cold with the snow outside. I noticed a large wooden board carved which read something about the resurrection. The word resurrection had the 'S' backwards which seemed strange. I could imagine the bloke whittling away and making a mistake which chips off part of a word and he decides" rather than have to start again I'll just carry on and hope noone notices".
 After the christening we went to a hidden con club where we carried on freezing but could enjoy alcohol and buffet food. It was a time to catch up with friends which I enjoy. I hope to see my friends more than I do and there's no reason not to. It's not as if I do jack shit. 

My wife's day was almost postponed due to snowfall which meant it wouldn't be a day in front of the the tv. Luckily she went out still and so I played on xbox with stepson and ps3 online briefly where I walked around as cannon fodder for better players.
Then we no plans and no time frame to fit anything to so I put Ratatouille on for my little lad who had never fancied it from the cover but sat transfixed.

My wife returned saying that she'd seen a lovely coat for £105. I asked "£105?, what does it do?"
She said "what do you mean?".
"well for that money it better do something amazing..,.you can buy a coat for forty quid y'know". 

Today on the radio there was a happiness survey lady asking listeners a few questions and determining their happiness levels. My workmate said how we were the happiest people alive. I said infact we were a good example of polar opposites because he is happy because he is oblivious to life and I'm grumpy because reality is a disappointment. He said "yes you're more of a glass half empty kinda guy" I said " no my glass is fucking empty".

It's that time of year when the Christmas lights are switched on in towns all over. Non celebrities pretend to switch some lights on to crowds of idiots. I can't believe  people have made the switching on of anything a crowd pulling event. I've had three living room lamps to switch on every night recently and I don't gather up all the kids and invite the neighbours around just to see our lights turn on. Hey I do appreciate Christmas lights are nice and make you feel Cosy and christmassy but it's not an event the switching on part. For me the switching on of the tv is the pinnacle of my evening. 
Tommorow I shall declare loudly,
"right everyone I'm off upstairs for a piss, would anyone like to join me to see the bathroom light turned on?"

My father story part four.

The next bombshell was my dad and his wife selling up their house and buying a caravan to roam the country selling antiques on Market stalls. Entrepreneur or scruffy gypsy? The latter.
Mixing with other smelly bastards all over the British isles was enjoyed by him and his wife but it was a lot harder than expected. 
My brothers and his family heard less and Less. We all felt like he'd just upped and left us to it.
The call came after a while that his wife had collapsed and died in their caravan. Sad news. This humbled my dad. He hit the bottle as was expected but what was strange was the ease of getting over it. There must have been a false front at play. I met up with him and This was my moment. Dad said to me that now his wife had gone that he was going to give his family his full attention. He even said that he still loved my mum. 
It was a bizarre meeting but I told him he had not bothered with his grand kids and that pissed his sons and their wives off. He was going to rectify this though. He disappeared again to try and continue with the markets. Stories of him showering out in the rain storms whilst standing in just his pants came through shaming me further.
The next time I saw my dad some of his smelly friends had pretty much taken a pile of money out of his caravan. I'm told he had attempted suicide by nicking his wrist vein but failing to kill himself because his  thick blood clots quickly.
I heard he was prepared to fuck us all off again and I was furious because this was an action against my own son. I thought a grandad should be so much better than that. 
I explained at the time that I could handle him not being great towards me but when he was being useless to my son it was too much. So my opinion was that my dad had succeeded in killing himself and so he'd in effect told us all to 'go fuck ourselves'. 
I met up with him in a mcdonalds restaurant and managed to tell him what a letdown he was to me. I told him that he was indifferent to me. I reminded him of the time I was at my lowest ebb and his tea was more important. Once I'd started the tears were less of a possibility. I peaked by telling him that I actually thought he was a 'Cunt'. 
The conversation ended with yet another clean slate and promises to finally be a dad and a grandad.
Two weeks later it was my birthday. Right up into my thirties he had not properly wished me a happy birthday by ringing me or giving me my card on the right day. This was part of the new agreement. By eight o clock on my birthday I text my dad to say that he couldn't said happy birthday today and he gave a crap excuse. 
So I text him that that was the final chance wasted and to never contact me again. 
And the shitty thing on top is that he put up no fight, he simply never contacted me again. 

Father story part three.

I spread my wings and bought my first shithole house to call my own. To explain my next years living alone would be to liken it to running fast off the end of a cliff believing you could fly. I ran off the end of the cliff with enthusiasm and for the first two seconds enjoyed the feeling of freedom that flying had provided. Unfortunately this was followed by plummeting. I had struggles with drink, drugs and womankind but money was the biggest mistake. I only bring this up because when I was at my lowest, the person I chose to talk to was my dad. This meant a lot to me and I hoped it meant a lot to me. So I met my dad in his local pub and close to tears of despair I said I was in a mess and didn't know how to get out. My dad listened and looked at his watch to see his tea would be on the table like clockwork and said "well I've got to go now for my tea, but don't go do anything stupid like killing yourself" and with that he went.
I wandered halfway home to moorland where I played as a child and just wanted to lay down and never wake up. 
This feeling is as close to giving up as I'm able to do. And I saw that suicide was never going to be a reality for me. Nothing would be that bad. So I rang my mum in tears of humiliation and she picked me up and drove me home. Mum did this on a number of occasions over the years and saw me and said" I take it you've been to see your dad".
At my lowest ebb my father had not come through for me, infact he had been horrible.
Add to this a boxing day conversation about my researching my family tree and my dad saying well there's the girl I had before I met your mum. This rocked my world. 
"what fucking girl??"
"you know about her"
"well clearly I don't"
So this was when I stormed out and home to sob. Even in my early twenties my dad could upset me enormously. I was mostly robotic and emotionless all the time but my dad was my achilles heel. The dissapointment with my dad hurts like nothing else. But by now my emotions were starting a revolt. 
The next birthday my dad and wife visited me and I stopped them at the door and just said " sorry I'm busy". 
I turned them away and although it made me look a prick, a battle was won. 
I started to replace unconditional love for my dad with seeing him as just a man who slept with my mum. He was my dad but he'd never been a FATHER to me. I even considered always referring to him by his first name but decided I should still respect him enough to call him dad even if it meant nothing to him. 

Continued tomorrow

Father story part two 

My dad would take me with him on plastering or plumbing jobs on a Saturday when he had me. He'd moved in with a friend and sure enough they were having drinking parties all the time. This went on until I was into my teens, then I reduced the times I visited my dad and instead would walk him to work sometimes on a night as he went across the village. I was doing this to make up for seeing him less. 
It was my feeling sorry for him that also made me ask for cheese sandwiches for tea every time  so it was cheap for him. I also only ever asked for a book for christmas every year which annoyed my Mum as she would say "what if I only bought you a book, what would think if I did that, yet it's ok for your dad"
I understood but looked at my dad as down on his luck. 
My Dad met and married a woman at work who had been married before and had two sons of her own. It felt awkward that I would enter their home to see my dad. So I would visit less as it felt like I was intruding. I would tell myself that once I was out from my mum's house that my father would start a relationship with me that you would expect of a father and son. It was great to be of an age finally when I could have a pint with my dad in the pub and I did that a lot. Upon having three pints I would get reflective and ask his close friends about when he had to move out of our home to hopefully get a tale of a strong love that had been savaged by the divorce. I was told "your Dad has done some stupid things but if I were you I would give him a clean slate and judge him by his actions from now on"
It was only a matter of a month until I met my dad on my 18th birthday and I expected some kind of proud moment for my dad and his son. What I got for my 18th birthday was no card and a pint of lager. I walked home upset. I searched and chased this man for his love and never found evidence of it but I would convince myself it was for one reason or another and let my dad off the hook.
This continued for years after until the next thing happened.

Continued tomorrow.

Father story part one.
I was born the son of a Ginger bee gee. Photos of my christening in 1974 show my slim father with full red flowing locks looking like the tallest bee gee. My memory of my Dad is snapshot mind photos such as sitting with him on the sofa as he layer on his side and I was positioned in the small space his legs made. This felt like the safest place in the world as well as my parents bed in the morning. My Dad was a working man but he was a man who would come home with a different job even though he should have held down a job because he had three kids to feed. I remember him being a lorry driver, a taxi driver, a plumber and a hairdresser. He was a man of big plans but seemed to get bored easily. My parents opened a bakery/shop and seemed to be doing well in our village. At this stage I was about five and spent too much time alone with everyone being busy. I had nightmares that I vividly remember still because they were recurring themes. I was seven when my mum got rid of my dad and my brothers and I were visiting my dad living with his mum, my gran.  I learnt later that my dad was secretly terrible with money and that we had the bailiffs turning up to evict us because we had not paid bills. My mum didn't know this and she rallied friends and family to bail us out at short notice. 
But to me, all I knew was my dad was not around and with no explanation I was left missing him and so I presumed he missed me. 

Continued tomorrow.

Frankie Boyle was funny last night and my wife enjoyed being out doing things. My little boy seems to be having tooth trouble which has brought on cold symptoms. His eyes and nose are streaming. Today I made pasta and chicken broth followed by scones. I've tried to lighten up today as my wife has commented it seems like there's something wrong so now it's been recognised I can go back to normal until next big blowup. My step daughter has reached a time in her life as a teen that going to see her Dad isn't as exciting as it was and there's times when she finds it boring but she is worried about upsetting her Dad's feelings. I remember having to tell my Father that he wouldn't be seeing me every weekend and he genuinely didn't seem too fazed. I thought it was very good of him to put up a brave face for my benefit. I later learnt that he was a twat and that was how he'd coped with the news. But like father like son I recognise the twat inside me too.
I haven't blogged the story of my father so maybe the time is fast approaching. Here lies the basis for most of my mental problems.

Got up and painted the entrance hall this morning. My wife cleaned the oven. Later I put a pizza on top of the gas job area and some crust crumbs fell on. I wiped them off with washing up sponge which was a bit greasy from cleaning and shouldn't been replaced with a new one. As she came to my side she saw the greasy hob smeared and got on my case. She said I was as bad as the kids at cleaning up and that she would have to do it all again. I said I'd seen the grease and would have continued to clean it with whatever it needed. 
In other words she said I was useless and I wanted to throttle her. I let the moment slide and walked away and then she went to town leaving  me alone with my boy.
After our argument about ghost hunting and 'silly games' and now me being 'useless', I wonder what it will take to get things back to normal, maybe Xmas. I think all relationships go through this. All I need is time alone to feel ok again. 

My wife asked me to go to the supermarket to get her 'lady products' and I hate doing it. I should have no business with such matters,it's as if  there's a party going on and I'm not invited.
But I did go to buy them.
I made a list of lots of other things to basically camouflage the offending item. I walked quickly and confidently up the aisle of womanhood and saw Tampax which I had been told not to buy. I saw a box and I knew two shop assistance were watching me so I mouthed "how the fuck would  I know which to buy",  so they knew I wasn't a regular purchaser of such items. I threw a box into the basket and went to pay choosing the quietest lane.
Satisfied that I'd managed to be brave enough to complete the task I arrived back home. 
"they're not the right ones" she started. I wasn't going back.
I countered "what makes you think I'm a connoisseur of sanitary towels? All I know is I've seen em play tennis  on the tv in them so they must be ok"
"these are panty liners, I don't buy these" she replied.
She was mad that she would have to go out in the cold. What a cheek after I'd just had to.
Anyway I just went in the shower cos I couldnt think of more stuff to buy to cover them again. 
Would  I ask her to buy nob scrub or testicle wipes.....NO.
 It's up to her to keep her under carriage hygienic isn't it. I know I'm married to her but we don't need to share everything. Im told homosexuals buy tampons to deal with their practices so I felt highly uncomfortable buying them and that should be reason enough not to. 
I'm telling you now " I draw the line at vagisil!" 

Another joke incident that I'm not a fan of is The Altitude Joke. When a person is jumping on a bin or standing on a chair to reach something etc, another 'joker' will say "don't jump". This joke has occurred  most months for all my working years in a printing factory when on a machine or flattening down a paper skip. This seems to happen as much even when you are raised up on a step of six inches for even more 'comic effect'. 
But as I laugh politely at their comedy prowess like it's the first time any idiot has made such a joke it strikes me that whilst a person is on a ladder five foot above the ground while changing a lightbulb, this is not the time to make that person giggle so much they have tears in their eyes and lose control. So there's a safety issue at the heart of it actually.
This brings me to the other comment that's generated whilst slightly higher up from sea level than usual. There's a type of person who will see you and tell you "be careful not to fall off". 
"thank god that you've told me to be careful up here as I was jumping up and down in a carefree manner totally oblivious to thinking that gravity was about to smash my skull in".
The last van driver who passed me said "watch you don't fall off" to which I replied " careful not to crash and die on the way to your next delivery" 
He didn't seem too happy about my health and safety warning that I'd repaid him, maybe he only liked dishing it out.

Whilst pushing paper at work the trolley wheel jolted my paper almost onto the floor. I muttered to myself "arse magnets" what the hell does that mean? I don't know where that sprang from. It's made me question what else lurks in my brain like  a thought tourettes. 
After hearing the nursery rhyme 'there's a hole in my bucket' I was surprised not to hear Liza finally say "buy a new one from b and q cos they're only about a quid". Who fixes a bucket? And when fixing a bucket, is a hammer really the best tool for the job?

I've never been a lover of the standard joke. Usually at school I was bombarded each day with this long winded set up which  ended on a lame twisting of words that didn't make me laugh. 
The standard joke is best exampled like this, there was an Englishman, Scotsman and an Irishman.... The first and second men do something classed as normal and then the third either does something stupid or does something that sounds a bit like an amusing play on words. But after hearing the pattern of this joke formula so many times you start to just want to forget the set up. I have an example of sorts... It's what I refer to as "and then the Irishman drinks some piss" formula. Theres a set up, three men go into a bar and the first one drinks a cup of tea, then the second one drinks a cup of coffee and then the Irishman drinks some piss. The whole two thirds or more is not relevant really but you have to stand there being told all the made up story of why these people would be put in this situation using stereotypes that are mostly untrue outside of a joke. I just want to hear the punchline and get on with my life. 
There's a joke about a zoo catastrophe I used to know at school that ends with the line,"That day the animals ate Finch, Chimps and Mushy bees".  Now the 'joke' of this is that is that they've found animals that sound like the food fish, chips and mushy peas. That is the one line it takes two minutes to arrive at and I always feel annoyed at being put through. Someone starts a joke and I'm thinking" skip to the end..and then an Irishman drinks some piss" 
I do like to laugh but I want a joke as short as the punchline.
For example:
What is E.T. Short for?

Because he only has little legs. 

This works because if you don't find it funny or you don't understand the pun it's over and done with anyway so you can continue with your day. 
I soon as someone starts telling me a joke, I zone out as if I'm being inconvenienced.
But tell me the punchline first and I'm happy. It's just as funny when you tell me that there was an Irishman who once drank some piss.

After my stepson was Ill with a sickness which I'm told is 'going around'.  He was confined to his bedroom as a sort of quarantine measure to stop out hound toddler from catching it. Today my wife came home with it from work so I expected the same measures to apply. It would appear that she's going to hang about in the front room reminding us that she's got something terrible. 
I think she'd be better off with a long nights sleep from about seven pm until seven am. That normally is the best thing for illness. A good long rest. Plenty of sleep and relaxation. 
Oh and I've just remembered that I've borrowed Call of Duty Black Ops so I guess I could maybe have a little go on that seen as how she would be out of the way and everything.....

Sometime later....

My wife went to bed at nine pm and I went on black ops and then watched The Walking Dead. I go on about what I dislike mostly so I should say that what I love is when I can play on my consoles and watch a film alone. I'm relaxed and happy. 
Its my life I'm wanting to fill with these simple activities to make it more pleasurable here on earth. But it's not as easy as that is it.

October to November always seemed to be significant years ago as I used to either meet someone new when single or get dumped around that time. Luckily for me few of these events have stuck, only the fact that just before Xmas things altered. After the last disagreement with my wife I thought it would happen again but we seem to have hurdled it once again. I used to be told that if you were single at Christmas it was the best way because everyone is wanting to be more of a slag but I never found evidence of this. 
If you are desperate enough you can always get to kiss someone, it's just a matter of if you want to stoop that low. 

The word 'no' is the strongest word in the English language. Every human being should never lose the option of saying no. 
But... Why is it that we have to not say no when we sometimes want to? Anything from "do you want to come shopping with me" to "do you still find me attractive" could sometimes have No as the answer but we are not actually allowed to use it. Why is it wrong to say No It's not ok for you to visit right now. If someone asks to call, rather than say "No I'm just enjoying this tv programme for the next two hours" we instead make an excuse "I'm sorry Im going to pick up my wife etc soon so let's make it another time"
If I ask a question I expect No might be an answer and I dont want the reason to be a cover for the word No. 
"do you want to look at my holiday photographs?"
NO
Is it more important to save the other persons feelings than to do or say what is the TRUTH. 
Does the recipient really have such a frail emotional strength that if you say "no I don't think your hair looks nice" that they don't just think " oh that's their opinion". 
I reserve the right to say no. 

Painted in two rooms today. The best thing is that you're left alone to do it. I'm nearing the end now. I have just the entrance hall to wash and paint and put new beading down. 
My wife says she happy 'for a bit'. 
A third night of drinking is my reward tonight. 
My little boy climbed into my bed this morning and cuddled my neck firmly. I said "do you like it in daddy's bed?"
He said "I love it" which was really cute. I remember liking getting into my parents bed and also my Grans bed when I stayed over. That's a feeling of security I have never forgotten so I can understand what he feels. Winter is almost here now and the Christmas feeling is starting to show. I'm looking forward to taking my boy to a grotto to meet Santa. 
I may even dress up myself in the next few years.

Friday night and I have to paint and gloss our bedroom before carpets are laid tomorrow dinner. Just getting on with it without saying a word. Well right now I'm just waiting for coat one to dry. It still feels like community service. I still have the pieces of fence to re erect asap. 
Whatever I say, it will be nice when it's done so yes chris shut the fuck up moaning for once and do your bit. 
I can hear the tv far in the distant and it's saying " Chris.... What are you doing? Where are you? We've got such sights to show you" (which is a line from Hellraiser).

The next morning:
Woke up and started to clear the landing and bedroom again for carpet fitters. I have got away with no glossing of skirting boards due to the excellent work provided by sugar soap. The same tub of sugar soap that my mum bought me for my twenty second birthday along with tools and toolbox. At the time it seemed a bit of a strange choice but I've needed these items numerous times and improved my skills in the last ten years or so. Although I still have never wallpapered.
Its a wet day again so we won't be going far but the kids are going to the dads this weekend so that will be a break tonight.

After the big row we had about my wanting thirty five quid and her hitting the roof. " Chris you know we're skint"etc
She has just spent £300 pounds on carpets and £40 on paint and is getting four tickets to see the new Harry Potter film next week. I can't believe the complete turn around that she's made. I'm so glad I didn't say I wouldn't go ghost hunting next time or cancel my lovefilm package. I must store this event so I can put up a good argument next time. I mean doesn't this prove my point that money can be found out of nowhere if there's a good reason. I am bewildered. I can't believe it's me who's supposed to be the nobhead.

It was incredibly windy last night. My fence has blown down in places so It falls to me to fix the panels and try put them back up. As I drove to work it was like pod people had arrived with all the dustbins I had to swerve around. There were structures such as childrens playhouses and advertising trailers upturned and smashed. There was mess all over. The only places that had benefited were the council estates where the wind had swept up all the rubbish into piles. The locals rejoiced. 

I'm just at the tyre place getting two new front tyres on my works van. I always feel like such a gayboy in these macho environments. I don't feel comfortable with blokes but I feel even less so in female company. This Is why I keep out of everyones way. Now I know women feel when they walk past a building site. HANG ON I don't mean I'm getting wolf whistled at. 
I don't know if I feel worse sat here or in the horrible calm of a dentist waiting room. One is full of men working and the other is full of women receptionists. Both make my heart race for mo good reason. Luckily I've got my iPod to mess with.

I think tonight my duty involves dusting and vacuuming our bedroom because of my wife's dust allergy. When you are allergic to dust there's nowhere to escape it. But isn't dust mostly human skin and fluff. So why doesn't she get a reaction to her skin and her clothes?. Maybe she'd  be better if she had hairy nostrils like a man because it stops the bacteria from entering your head. Or perhaps she could only breath through her mouth. Wouldn't it be great to have your wife walk around like a 'mouthbreather' with fake nose hair wigs...No. I guess I'll just clean more often.

My reward for washing Walls and doors down last night was six cans of bitter, my new drink. I feel fine this morning which is great. My wife seems to be slightly concerned of my frostiness after the row we had at the weekend about my spending £35 on a Ghosthunt in February next year. I do still harbour resentment over the issue of not bring able to pursue something I would love to do with my wifes total support. I'm glad I wouldn't be like that with her. The whole incident has weakened our relationship for the time being. 
It's also a shame that this Blog is unknown to her because she would try and stamp this out too. Watching films is made difficult. Watching most haunted etc is made difficult. Painting is frowned upon. We don't like the same music. 
Yes... I am talking about the woman I married but I knew she'd be a good mum and that's more important to me in the big scheme of things. Now I've been married I would never do it again but that's not BECAUSE of my wife it's just not something I need now I've done it. 

What is the deal with having to say goodbye repeatedly until a person drives away. I've noticed this more and more. For example, you've had a couple round and it's time for them to leave and they say " right well, we better off" 
As you open the door for them to go you will say "right I'll see you later"
They reply " see you "
But normally your other half has followed that up with a "goodbye"  so they say"see you later" to her too. 
Then it's madness as they duck their heads into their car you have to squeeze a "bye" in. 
And then you wave which is the mime for goodbye. 
Should I text as they drive up the road?,  send them an E mail.?

In future it's one goodbye and then I shut the door behind them. 
Why do we not repeatedly say Hello to someone? 
"hiya, hello, welcome.."

What is it about the cold grey skies of autumn/winter that makes me feel happier than the sunny days? Maybe it's the warm van and the headlights making it feel Cosy. Add that to some good music and driving to and from work can be quite pleasant. 
I heard another nonsense proverb....
"there's none as blind as those who refuse to see" I was told the other day. And I said "yes there is there's the blind for a start". 
The conversation ended there. 

I continue my community service for going to Bolling Hall tonight by washing down the Walls in the front room. Then my wife is going to decide if a paint job is needed. I was shown two pairs of curtains at the weekend and forced to contribute an opinion. The ones I liked the least are up. I judge curtains not by colour but by how much light they keep off the tv. 

It was my wifes birthday and she told me to only get her something to open. Strict spending measures were followed and I presented her with her earrings in bed and it seemed that her birthday was over in two minutes. 
I posted my writing of Ghost hunt on a website called Living Spirits. The users all seem to be really into the more fanciful side of the paranormal eg. Believing  that they are psychics or witches etc. Each to their own. 

It's a cold and windy night as we went to the pub for some tea. It was a lovely cheese burger, infact the best burger I've ever had. But I would think so too if you charge ten quid for it. We are all full now... And skint. 

To make up for getting my way own way I said I'd decorate the house top to bottom. I've spent all day painting the kitchen. Julie went out with the kids and so in-between coats of paint I nipped to see bloke who's making the DVD of ghost evening. I was dubious about some of the photos from the evening but other videos of orbs were more believable. Everythings open to interpretation. A few beers made my wife and I tired and we didn't have a lot to say really. I'm staying up thirty mins longer than her just to look at my iPod. 
Last night I paid my brother twenty quid towards fireworks as everyone had to if they attended his bonfire night get together. Fireworks have not progressed in the thirty odd years I've witnessed them. Id rather my brother had burnt my twenty quid right in front of my face. That would have been different. I could tell the difference between one fire work and another because the first one went pop and the one at the end went, bang bang bang bang bang bang etc well you get the idea. So once we had enjoyed a night of the banging noise we handed out the flaming death sticks to all the children who we would think twice about handing a lit match to on any other night. And as the toddlers waved their red hot sparks just next to someone elses eyes I saw the bad judgement of it all. I was twenty pounds lighter and my kids still had all their eyes working so it seemed I'd had a good night. Oh I can't wait until next year when I am gonna burn all my hair off whilst lighting an explosive that I bought to blow up high above my garden. Maybe my brother would have only charged ten quid if I promised to cover one eye and one ear for the extravaganza. 

As predicted I fell out with my wife about ghosthunting in Feb sometime. She knows nothing about it or the people involved but she told me they were all nutters just sitting in the dark pretending there's a ghost. She doesn't want any of them near our house or even to know about the whole thing. 
I couldn't believe that spending £35 was the real isssue. It seems whenever I do get some idea in my head that she gets  envious  of the attention I give it so tries to stomp on it.  Then she brought up my coat. She showed me a coat the other day which was nice but I already have a coat, but that's what her point was.... I'll walk around in a scruffy coat  without a care but when I want to go on something I want, I suddenly am trying to afford it. Madness
I came so close to cancelling but NO I paid the cheque, making sure the charity guy came nowhere near my house as my wife thinks he's evil and I'm going and that's that.
One to me, me thinks. 
I must remember to never enjoy anything in front of her.

This is my account of my night at holmfield mills so if you don't care.. Don't read...

I arrived at Holmefield Mill at almost ten pm with my sister Becky. We were eager to start our paranormal investigation. For my sister and I this was to be the realising of a dream. I've spent years watching and reading about Ghosts and still couldn't believe that I'd stumbled across an investigation less than a mile from my house and in only three weeks time. There were lots of people already milling about and when I was led inside there were about fifty people gathered around a makeshift kitchen drinking coffee. It felt great to be in a group of likeminded people. I noticed some people had embroidered tops on with the initials of the leading team, West Yorkshire Paranormal Group. I'd visited their site a few times when I looked into starting my own group up with Becky. It was exciting seeing the metal briefcases containing the equipment which was to he used that night. 
I noticed a lady called Pat who was the head of the team and     That made me more excited. A man called Paul gathered us to go over rules and regulations and then Pat gave a few short words of encouragement. We all got to have a try with the dowsing rods and some people took to it easier than others. 
Then we finally separated into groups which included a couple called Alan and Ayshia plus a three generation family of five, two grandparents, two parents and young teenager Alex. 
Teri and Rick led us firstly into the garage area for a walkaround which the automatic lighting spoilt a little for us. 
From here we were led to the dance class area upstairs which the grandparents struggled with climbing. As we stood silently in a circle holding hands Ayshia said she had a ringing in her left ear and soon after Becky had the same too. I wondered if maybe this was just caused by anxiety triggering fast blood flow but when I got toothache in my left side and Becky got a sore throat then I wondered what was happening. We moved on to the room next door once another team had left. Again we sat in a circle and asked for toys to be played with etc. Nothing seemed to happen unfortunately until we took the circle out into the corridor. My sister reported that she wanted to dance and sing as we chatted to Rick and he wondered if my sister was picking up a spirit energy. With this thought he sat my sister on a chair in the centre of our circle and invited the spirit to interact. The was a ping on the back of Ricks chair like metal on metal, this was much louder than the creaks and groans of our chairs. So we kept asking for something to happen until my right leg grew abnormally cold to the point that my body shook with the feeling. I overheard a member of the observation crew tell Teri that using the thermometer I was four degrees 'C' than the rest of the group. What really interested me was when my colder leg bumped into something I had not seen until now. We had brought over one chair too many. Was a presence joining us? I hoped this was the case and I tried to talk to it saying "don't be afraid of me because I'm not afraid of you". Soon after my insides felt cold as if I had swallowed ice. I couldn't rationally explain this because it felt abnormal. Becky and others saw black figures roaming the large columned space we were in. I think it was Teri who detected that there were two children, brother and sister who worked at a young age in the mill and the 'Overseer' or Foreman also were walking amongst us. One of the observers was sat on a pile of crash mats  and felt someone sit down next to him and when he put the torch he saw there was an indentation left on there.  Sadly it was time for a break so all the teams swapped stories with each other. One man had scratches on his neck from being in the nursery. Becky and I were even more keen to carry on at this point and took a couple of pictures of the scratches. We also met another few team members and asked questions. 
Rick rallied the team together once more and we went to the nursery with a nervous sense of expectation. We were allowed to roam as long as we weren't alone. Becky and Ayshia both saw a shadow duck down behind a floor standing bookshelf. Two people seeing the same thing is something to seriously think about. My sister and I explored a dark corridor bravely off from the main nursery which proved to lead to a staff toilet. It was as we walked back to the group that I thought i heard a shuffling noise but I couldn't determine it to have not been imagined as it was faint. We all sat in a circle again under some hanging mobiles that taught children shapes. We tried asking spirits to manipulate the four hanging mobiles to point to the door. We never stated which door of which there were four or five so seeing these twist slowly and then faster had varied results depending on which door each person had chosen in their mind. With ten us say underneath we would probably have had a lot of heat rising upwards so I took no evidence from this.  The only thing that happened of note was Alan and Becky asking out for something to effect me. Nothing did so Alan looked across at the kids table in front of him and said "move the little table". Seconds later Becky's table made a loud noise and Becky described the table jumping at one corner. This table was the smaller of the ones Alan and Becky were on so maybe this had been answered.
There was another break and it seemed that most people had gone for one reason or another. It was about four am when Becky and I were a little downhearted thinking that was the end but luckily Rick suggested we go on to try glass divination and table tipping in the boxing ring room. It was at this point that it was just Alan, Ayshi, Becky and I left with Rick and Teri etc. We also were joined by Paul on camera from here. Five of us sat around a small round table with the letters Y and N for yes and no. We all put our fingers on as Rick led a protection ritual to keep us safe. We asked things such as "are you male?" nothing, "are you female?", nothing, "are you an animal?" the glass moved to yes. This is where the waters get muddy with the information provided because I don't believe anyone was pushing the glass as I was opposite Becky who I trusted and she trusted me and we were checking the people next to us to see if they were influencing on purpose. Becky suggested that we point downwards onto the glass so we could almost discount pushing by mistake. The glass answered further questions this way and also twisted on the spot when asked. As regards the information taken whether it was true or not, this is what we were told. 
George Stephenson was the foreman who still roams the mill and he pushed a young girl but didn't mean to kill her. She received facial injuries to her left side and died. The girl was called Victoria and her brother was Edward. 
The spirit we got this information from was called Ralph Davison or Davidson and he built or owned the mill. He wa happy to still be around. Becky reminded him of his wife as the glass kept pushing towards her pretty fast. 
1873 seemed to be of significance. 
Unfortunately table tipping was not achieved on this occasion. 
Finally we went back into the large corridor where we'd had best results. Paul seemed adamant that he could sense someone walking amongst us. All of a sudden Alan seemed in a daze and he slumped luckily against a column behind him. He was taken out to have a break. As Paul stood looking through his viewfinder he said "he's here now" and was pushed off his feet into Becky who stopped him from falling over.  Becky and I continued to feel a moving cold spot pass into and through us. This was the most interesting aspect for us as beginners.  So plenty to think about for us.  We look forward to our next case if we can get one.
Chris Whitehouse.

Ok I have my iPod back. Prepare to receive transmissions

my ipod is being fixed.
normal service will resume by the end of the week

I told my wife this morning about my 'biscuit theory'. She was worried about whether her Dad was managing well enough on the small amount of money he gets. I said "well, he has biscuits so he can't be doing that bad", I explained that everyone likes biscuits but they are the first thing to go if you're skint. I grew up in a house where we had rich tea or divestures or custard cream biscuits so we just about managed. Other houses I went to would produce a more expensive, individually wrapped one such as Penguins or Blue Ribbands. So if I was in charge of seeking out benefit fraud I would add a question to the form which reads,
'Do you buy biscuits, if so which ones?'
My wife pointed out that the system is flawed because some people just like biscuits and make it their priority to have them. 
I say Bollocks. 
(now my iPod fix has resulted in my headphone socket not working so I can't use headphones or put it through my stereo in the van etc. So if it dies my blogs may stop temporarily-although I will find a way to write it up I guess in some way.)

 I found the crematorium with little fuss. My trousers dug into me, my shirts neck was tight and so were my shoes and smart black jacket. I had my sunglasses on too as I sat in my van as the first one there. My brothers pulled up next to me saying I looked like one of the blues brothers. My brother said its usually cold in the crematorium and i said "yeah but its warm when they get the fire going". I tried to zone out for the service but seeing my cousins upset was hard. Great to see my cousin who I've not seen for about thirty years. We had a drink after nearby and then my brothers and I drove elsewhere for one more. It has made me want to write my own service for my funeral even though it's my wish not to have one. 
As my uncle reiterated, live every day as life is short.

I came back home and put some music on iTunes. These things are important to me.
I enjoyed those drinks too and I will have more tonight I think. I three my funeral kit in the bin as I will need to buy it all again next time. 

Paul the psychic octopus, who predicted the world cup scores of all the games including the final, died yesterday. I hadn't heard the original story so I don't know how he conveyed that he'd had a premonition about the world cup at all. I'm guessing that as each match played he lifted two tentacles on the left and four on the right to signify a four two win to whoever. 
Either way when a sea creature is given a 'super power' to help the world with, I think an octopus that predicts football results is taking the piss. What next a platterpus with the x factor results?.
God is a twat at times. 
Or as they say 'God moves in mysterious ways' or as I say.. Like a twat.

I finally tried on my funeral kit. It's around seven years since I last needed it. I was apprehensive about my waist size not being the same. I tried on the shirt first and got my hands through the still buttoned shirt sleeves without too much fuss. Then I pulled my funeral trousers up and with a sharp intake of breath did the button up. With my shirt tails tucked in I resembled a pub landlord with his round protruding beer belly. I breathed out and although the button stayed fastened, it was only a matter of time before something gave up the fight. I didn't think it appropriate to risk my trousers falling down whilst at a wake. Luck was with me though as in the same hidden corner of my drawers were my wedding trousers from four years ago. The trousers still fit, just. I fear if I keep going to the co-op and eating four chocolate bars for a quid in one day I will need a new funeral kit next time.
The tie will outlast me, maybe I will wear it when I'm dead.
Does anyone get cremated in jeans and a tee shirt? Or do you have to buy a suit to be dead into. 
If I am cremated and I go enter the 'big sleep' for eternity, I think I'll opt for my pyjamas.

My brother was caught speeding and had the option of paying £60 or attending a speed awareness course. You get one chance at this in your speeding career and the thinking is that you learn nothing from paying money and so it's beneficial to show you why you need to slow down. Cue videos of crashes and pile ups followed by statistics. It's probably a good idea too because of the awkwardness of having to attend the course stays with you for longer than paying money. But you have to drive to the course and run the risk of being caught for speeding on the way. The one good thing that they learnt was how to tell the speed of the road you're on without signs. If there are street lights then it's a 30 and if not then it's the national speed limit. Interesting.

I met up with my family to arrange flowers for my Aunts funeral which is now on Thursday. Let me explain firstly that there was no love between my aunt and uncle, just animosity.  Each one was wanting the other to die first.
On that note we were arranging flowers and asking where the wake was etc. My mum shook her head and said my uncle was moaning about having to spend any money on catering for the family and that he would only pay for immediate family as in his two sons. So when I asked where this wake was and mum was quiet I said" it's not at there little house is it?" more silence..."I'm not going up that stairlift for a piss"
Everyone laughed and some other jokes were made. We all felt guilty but we'd kinda got the giggles which made it worse.
Now my Aunt had a good sense  of humour so we justified it that way. When writing out the card details on interflora website we had my young sister typing it in and I said " do we put lots of love?? Or do we put yours faithfully?" more giggles. My sister genuinely put "xxxxxxx" at the end and mum said "no we don't put that"
My brother chipped in " yeah Sis and don't put LOL either"

We started picking on each other then,
My sister said she didn't want a sad affair for hers.
"are you ok about fireworks?" I asked.
I don't want a funeral at all. When I hear they are about paying your last respects I just feel it's too bloody late. When you get the call that they died... Game over.
Noone wants to go to a funeral, I don't want people to see mine. 
I told my family that I wanted to be stuffed and stuck in the corner of the room in a Dracula pose, fingers pointed out and they can hang there coats on my fingers.

"WELCOME ALONG to my 100th BLOG"

This idea to do a digital diary of sorts all came from my wifes suggestion that when I die she would burn all my diaries so noone could read them. Her main excuse being that they would take up too much space in the loft. My friend pointed me towards a free blogging website and day one was thrown onto the Internet. With nothing to say I posted everyday. 
My friend clicked 'follow' I imagine out of bias  and friendship not knowing what I was writing and I thank him for that.
I started off having one visit to my blog per day. Now I have maybe 15 per day. The record is 28 in one day. These visits have come from Kuwait, Poland, Singapore, Denmark and the USA as well as mostly the UK. But this is all the info I get and I still only have one follower. 
If you read this once a week even, please find a way to click yourself onto FOLLOW so I can further discover who you are.

Let's see if you are still around at 200.

Well I found a shop that will fix my iPod screen for £35.
I had to leave it over night so I left the shop patting my pockets. I almost felt naked without it. They warned me that they would have to prise open the metal to get the screen out so I should expect a slight screwdriver Mark. No problem I thought. I have just collected it the day after and when I used it I found the one button on the front really sunken into the body. Then I tried to clean the screen and five scuff marks remain where it's been scraped whilst being put in. It's not great at all but I tell myself that it's not cracked and I haven't a need to buy a new one. It still has all my things on though so Im not going to get too down about it.
Something else that I'm doing now is taking two xbox discs to Blockbusters to get repaired for £2 each. I actually pulled one of these out of the bin to get fixed, so if this service works I have saved re buying them.
Also today the case of the missing ice age 3 DVD was solved as I tried to rethink how it was there next to the tv and then was not. I went straight to it. Under the amp under the tv was a space where you could slide a DVD case in and there it was.
So today three types of things are back usable. It just shows that I should be wary of throwing things out in a mood when they might be saved somehow.

Yesterdays blog caused the friend who walked home with me to get in touch and we tried to piece the ridiculous house parties together. He told me one of them ended due to frozen prawns bring hurled about. These things were always full of possibilities so long as thrown frozen produce was as exciting as you could imagine. It made me remember long since forgotten names, mostly of girls who I had passing obsessions with. I'd work from one to the other, hormonal infatuation keeping awake at nights and haunting my days. I was absolutely desperate all the time. I didn't really know what for. I know one thing for sure though, it wasn't really as simple as wanting to lose my virginity. I needed my Happy Ever After moment straight away from the age of twelve. Was this the first time the side effects of my parents divorce had effected my life directly, a need for me to be complete. I was thought of myself of one side of a coin and believed that the other side of the coin held all the answers.
I guess there's more stories to come as I'm going to have to go back and scour my diaries from '89, '90.
In other news we went to the newly opened Toys'R us in Bradford last night. Just as good as Leeds one. My boy took toys from the shelves and put them back somewhere else a lot of the time. The members of staff followed us making the shelves straight and  symmetrical  again after us. It was very quiet for opening night. I couldn't do that job because It would drive me crazy having people put things back in the wrong area. My wife does it in the supermarket. She'll pick up an item then three isles later will see a cheaper replacement item and put the first one anywhere. I however will pick it up and walk it back to it's original location. It's the OCD in me which like the table mats in the correct drawers at home. The White go on the right and the brown on the left. If they are the other way round I have to change them. If they are mixed it infuriates me. I have muttered to myself "White on the right, it's obvious" and walked away thinking..."it's not obvious though is it, to anyone else".
But when it's been corrected it feels like I've saved the universe from imploding on itself and the balance to time itself is restored.....so it's important that they go in the right drawers and it's important that I don't work in toys R us.

Yesterdays blog about stepson wanting to impress a girl at school made me remember when I was 14,15. I was really into this girl at school. I had maybe two classes with her but those lessons were all I could think about. She seemed to also feel a similar pull towards me (puzzling). We would talk for hours on the phone in the evening and I got into trouble for running up the phone bill. But there was always something stopping it becoming a 'thing' between us. It seemed to me that actually she was a bit embarrassed about liking me a bit and she wouldn't be able to admit it in public. I just tried and tried to get off with her. She had a spell over me but she used that power to belittle me most of the time, like a cat with a mouse. 
Maybe a year later, after a house party where my  virgin mind raced at what I might get up to with her, she led me off out the sight of everyone ( slightly hurtful, but intriguing as to what she wanted to do to me), and she kissed me in a way that maybe she thought was passionately but left me more in the dark as to how to kiss well. 
This girl idol of mine put her Tongue in and out of my mouth in a fast darting action like that of a snake. Now I'd heard of a french kiss but didn't realise this was how it was meant to go. But to disguise my lack of experience I decided I had to join in before it was over. So I darted my Tongue in and out. But then I realised I didn't know whether to put my Tongue in towards hers so that they violently struck together or whether when she put hers in, I should retract mine like we were two lumberjacks cutting down a tree with one of those long saws. I tried a bit of both in an attempt to half be good at kissing. I didn't enjoy either feeling remotely. We finished and I waited for her to review which was right. But as soon as we wordlessly rejoined the others she was off into the night, presumably to snake kiss someone who she wasn't ashamed of.
Had the evenings practicing kissing my pillow or hand taught me anything, well that's for her to say. I'm still distrustful of the french kiss. I seem to remember that this was also the night which ended up with me saying I was going to throw myself off a bridge near the party. The bridge in question was about two metres high though so all that wouldve happened is that I'd have got two twisted ankles and a pair of wet shoes. 
But everything was symbolic that evening. I walked about four miles home with a great friend who listened to me pour my heart out in the moonlight and even pulled me back onto the pavement when from time to time I would risk being run over because I'd stumble into the road. But at 3am in a quiet village there was no traffic. As I said,  'Symbolic'.

I noticed my stepson had black smudges under his eyes the other day and asked if he'd been wearing makeup. He said No in an incredulous way. I said then how come it's on your face. Under such scrutiny he admitted that he had applied make up and he thought he'd got it all off. He done a few effeminate things recently and I asked if he was gay. He said No. 
I even said "it's ok if you are but if your not stop making it look like you are" I don't consider this to be homophobic or small minded of me. What I was thinking was more that I was steering him away from trouble from his peers. 
It turned out he was doing it to impress a girl at school and tonight under further questioning he said he'd learnt his lesson  and was not going to make the same mistake again because his school peers had given him no end of grief for having makeup on. The girl in question remained still unimpressed. 
In my day you just had to stand in a certain way to be called a 'Bender'. I joked with him about him wearing make up and getting stick for it and the fact that I'd said he shouldn't do it. I said "who's written on the back of your blazer" he looked surprised and said " I didnt know about it".
I said "yeah someones chalked 'Gaylord' on your blazer.. Oh hang on that was me".
This was funny to say to your mates in the 80's and it seemed to still be funny now. But again I said that it's fine if you are gay really. He said he isn't. But from what i hear the boys at school think it's cool to be bisexual, it's just another cool way of 'pulling the chicks'. 
If Being 'mincy' was cool when i was at school I probably would have faired better with the ladies. If it was also considered cool to be a wonky toothed, big eared, shit haircutted nob end I would have got off with loads, but alas those days never happened. 
My step daughter also left me dumbfounded a few days ago by saying that girls at her school now refer to 'a fit lad' as a 'BIRD', after all the grief lads got for saying that, the women of tomorrow will be saying it about lads. 

It seems Facebook is actually a good way of keeping in touch with old friends. I asked the people who I used to go drinking with if they would like to meet up one afternoon for a few drinks as something close to a reunion of sorts. It's almost ten years since I met a girl and got married etc and drifted away from the gang. It's like I always said at the time whilst sat in a beer garden,"my mates are all well and good but you can't shag your mates". It was necessary to find a mate with whom another life form was to be created, along with a reason for self worth which I didn't have at the time. I did say that I wouldn't want to be sat with the same group of people at the same pub table in ten years time and didn't go down too well at that moment but now I hope they can see what I meant. I'm looking forward to seeing all these old faces together but grayer. It's bizarre that I am the instigator but there you go. We should maybe do this every couple of years.

I received news that another family member died. A couple of weeks ago it was an uncle suffering from altzeimers and this week an Aunt. I have to say, an Aunt who dropped us as a family thirty years ago and who even so I invited to my wedding reception just to have one last time to see the loving family I thought I had when I was six all in the same room together. As I grew older I learnt of disagreements  and things said and not forgotten. So this puts me that strange position of attending the funeral of someone who couldn't be bothered with you and their immediate family who also doesn't give you a second thought. 
This also brings up the sick inappropriate thoughts that will emerge in my brain as I attend. As soon as I have anything to do with a funeral this joke goes through my mind,
"I put the FUN in Funeral" it just goes round and round and then my eldest brother will inevitably hum the theme from Reservoir Dogs as my two brothers and i walk along in our suits like he does every funeral. I guess it's like wanting to shout in the library. The truth is not welcome at a funeral especially when the truth is less than rosy. My mum said to me "I don't know if you'd like to ring your Uncle or ...."
"No way mum, I cannot do that I wouldn't know what to say, I would say something terrible"
She understood and believed I genuinely would fuck up.
(hi uncle I heard your wifes dead, yeah sorry about that, although when I say I'm sorry that doesn't mean I had anything to do with it. Apart from when I saw you at my wedding that I included you in by inviting you to, i guess it would've been thirty years since you visited me. Yes I've been very busy too, mostly building up hatred at family members that proved early on the couldn't actually care less what I was doing. Anyway I'll see you at the funeral but probably won't chat. Infact I'll avoid you as best as I can because I certainly won't know what to say to you in person. Right so I guess the next time I'll bump into you will be at your funeral ... Oh no ofcourse you'll be dead.) 
No I probably better not ring him Mum.

As we set off to go to Jimmy G's we found roadworks in place stopping us driving our chosen route over the backroads. I did a U-turn muttering to myself and drove half a mile further to be diverted a second time. So I carried on a more Main road way and ended up at a major set of traffic lights.
I'd seen people in hi vis jackets hand waving cars through the traffic lights ignoring the coloured system which make traffic lights a safe system. Then along the main road I noticed people running. Ah yes this struck a memory of signs about a big Bradford run sometime about now. So the bloke in jacket was waving cars through the gaps in runners. I couldn't understand why they ran in the middle of the road when we have pavements designed for pedestrians to travel at a number of different speeds already. The cars were not now allowed on the pavements so this seemed crazy. It was hardly the London marathon which had so many people running side by side that a road width was necessary. These runners were single file. There are plenty of public footpaths going through the fields round here so again, why do we need to use the roads?. As I grumbled to my wife I noticed there was a smattering of onlookers turning up to see people running. 
I saw an old couple together watching and clapping. 
What sort of conversation did they have this morning. 
"what are we doing today love"
"well I thought we'd travel to watch people run, you know like walking, only faster"
As I thought this the old man pulled out a camera and took pictures. I said "look at this guy, seeing the runners today in person is not enough. He wants to relive the excitement later again at home.". The man would say tonight, "do you remember earlier love when we drove to see people travelling by their feet at a hurried pace"
"oh how could I forget darling it was wonderful"
What got me the most was a member of the public running on the path just to cross the road through the runners. This man in his smart Sunday best was running behind the spectators and I said to my wife. "look he's running and  noone cares, even these fans of running are loving the road runners but to run on a pavement holds no sway with them."
My wife just said "you miserable sod, how did I get with you?".
So it may not have been my cup of tea but there's a couple enjoying there memories of pairs of feet moving one in front of the other at high speeds and not knowing the next time they can enjoy such elation in person.

I ventured into town this morning to take care of the usual things and also get my iPod screen fixed. I thought I'd ask around the backstreet shops which usually have the signs written on cardboard in marker pen. First stop was in the Market. This place did indeed fix such things and said it would cost "About £40". So i moved up the market to the second stall. I asked the same thing and he asked how much id been quoted and where from. I hoped him seeing his rival had quoted me he would be cheaper. This lad turned around to be on his mobile phone and started talking to someone about how much it was to fix my iPod. 
He put down the phone and said "About 40,45 quid". 
So my iPod would have to go to this bloke on the phone at some stage but where was he. I had some trust issues with leaving my iPod with anyone who can maybe copy all my details and cause me trouble. I moved on to the third place which had a man greet me and look at it and said "£50". So i turned him down saying i knew cheaper offers. This man asked how much id been quoted and where from. So he finally dropped his price to forty. He said it would take only twenty minutes so i said "Go for it". But then this man too picked up his mobile and spoke to a man not present in the room about the repair. Who is this shadowy figure on who they all depend to repair things? Is he in the mafia maybe 
? The kingpin of all breakages. The repairer who doesn't like his work to be viewed by the unskilled eye of the paying customer. What have I uncovered here and how long has it been going on?
Then I remembered that I'd seen something of this before......Noel Edmonds also used to commune with the faceless 'Banker' on Deal or no Deal. This man who as well as controls the boxing up of mystery amounts of cash also fixes screens in local town centre. Facinating! 
After initially saying that it would cost £50 and then £40 he left the phone saying £45. I said "you've not not the hang of this haggling business have you, I said how much and you've said 50,40,45, I'll try someone who knows the answer." And with that I took my broken screened iPod away until the next encounter with The Banker in the near future.

This morning I went into the co-op and it was decorated throughout in a Halloween style with cobwebs with plastic spiders in hanging from the ceiling. I said to the woman, "you've let the cleaning go a bit in here" and it was met with a not impressed "yeah". I shouldn't have bothered trying to make a joke. I still think it was funny and you can't tell me that everyone who goes in there makes the same joke and by the end of her shift her reply goes from "yeah" to "fuck off".

Just the other day I'd been sent to the shop for chocolate for the wife and kids and she asked if I wanted any too. I shook my head and pulled a face as if to say, Nah I'm not a big lover of chocolate. What my mind said was 'well what touring know is I ate four Mars bars for a quid this morning and I think that's plenty'.
I'm very much looking forward to my Ghost Hunt at Halloween with West Yorkshire Paranormal Group. It will be great walking round a large building at night with only the dead for company. A bit like Asda at midnight.
Speaking of the term Ghost Hunt, this is the pet name my wife has for me when talking to her sisters in London, I distinctly heard her saying that she thinks I'm a bit of a Ghosthunt, but I always did struggle with cockney rhyming slang.

My wife was I'll with a cold. She lay through the early evening on the couch whilst everyone tried to go about their usual business. My wife shushed us and said would everyone keep the noise down. It was about 8 pm that even the two year old was being told he was talking too loudly. The tv was off due to my wife in and out of sleep.
Maybe... This makes me look a twat, but I think it's really bad to sleep in the front room as it causes everyone else to live in the bedroom. So these two things are the wrong way round to me. The poorly one should be asleep in bed unless they are well enough to not have to annoy the other four by prohibiting them from normal healthy services. Who falls asleep at 8 and doesn't go to bed when I'll? Women it would seem. If I was that I'll I'd be bed. So at 9pm I put on headphones and watched Rec2 which I was really enjoying. My wife snored loudly for an hour and I didn't shush her once. 
She stirred enough to make some conversation so i paused the film and took headphones off. I couldn't continue then as it would be ignorant. But did she go to bed, no. She lay looking asleep and so I could do nothing but sit in silence not knowing if she was coming round or not. After an hour of this I gave up the fight. 10 pm it was when we went to bed. I find that rude everytime but dare I say so, no. 

My good friend had the vicar round last night to arrange details for the Christening of his newborn girl. It got me wondering as to why we, by that I mean society, do these faith related offerings at certain times. I mean we all celebrate the birth of Jesus by joining in with Christmas. Now my unreligious friend was having a third christening. Do we do this to get our kids a place in heaven incase it exists? The bible makes it obvious that it's not as easy as that. But if we are hedging our bets then we should also join all Muslim religions and whatever else. But just involving ourselves with one religion we don't actually believe in seems at best disrespectful. Yet lots do it. I find it fascinating. I don't know what I believe. I tried to convey this via text to my friend but when I read it back it came across judgemental. So then I had to apologise because I may have seemed like I was pointing the finger. I wasn't, I know it's what we feel we should do.

As I sat on my sofa I heard a music start up which I took to be upstairs at first. It suddenly increased enough to sound like my neighbour. What made it strange was the song was 'the power of love' by Huey Lewis and the News. The 80's hit from Back to the Future. In other words not the song that you would blast out loud. Although this has been played loudly in the film American Psycho when Christian Bales character has a killing spree in his home. Anyway it became apparent that this song was a car stereo driving past my house and started to fade. It was a weird thirty seconds.

At lunchtime during work I checked my emails and upon outgoing iPod away it fell glass face first flat onto the concrete kitchen floor. I picked it up hoping there would be nothing wrong but it had shattered but not come away out of phone housing. Luckily it works as normal but glass needs replacing. So far forty quid is what I'm quoted to repair it and that's ignoring Youtube's answer to do it yourself.
My tears would not have helped fix it so I had to shrug it off. If the worst happened I would buy another and that's the bottom line. I looked at iPhones the day before but I can't justify £30 a month on a phone bill. I'd like an iPad and I've found a Chinese website where they are sold under another name for £130 but still I can't allow myself to buy one. 

We had all got sloppy locking the back garage door over time. There's no access to the house and there's nothing worth stealing really but it should still be locked each time. My wife said that we should install a Yale lock in this door so that when we close it it locks. I said " I know a cheaper way... Just lock the fucking door"
She laughed and said that really hadn't occurred to her as she said that. I just saved us thirty quid. I said I am here to save her money. She wanted a new sofa the other week and I told her we already had one, I saved about £1500 that time. 
I even slowed down her looking for holidays by saying I didn't want to go. That saved a good £3000. 

Today's calendar quote says " it's never too late to have a happy childhood" how wrong is that?, when you are no longer a child it's too late right? Or am I missing something? 
I realise that they have to have 364 of these a year but I could make up better. 
It's like "you can't have your cake and eat it" I had a cake and I ate it!  Stupid meaningless quotes. 
"It ain't over until it's over" " if it ain't broke don't fix it"

Off the top of my head I can certainly match that
"it's not inside out, it's just outside in" 
"it's better to have NEVER loved than to have loved and lost and spent twelve months after being dumped at the bottom of a glass while that bitch flaunts around town with the new bloke who looks like a right dick"
I guess it's too long for a page a day calendar.