a little too close...

Well after reading AKH blog regarding the 11th of the November, sacrifices made by the soldiers, granting this freedom we have today and that I've not had to suffer the true horrors of war, but I've been pretty close... and at times so has my dad...

Back when I was younger in the 80's, my father got made redundant and we moved abroad.

It took some time for me to get used to a foreign land, the language (I couldn't understand the TV, but would that bother a kid of 6?), the heat, people and there customs... and the poverty..

But unlike Blighty at the time, danger could just be around the corner, earthquakes were quite regular, dicing with deadly traffic, but slightly more worrying was that the country had a small dangerous faction, they blew up pylons, kidnapped (this was after we left) and killed.

The power cuts became a thing of fun sometimes... mainly because it was barbeque time! My dad had found a grill and we became well prepared. Sometimes we had them while out at the ex-pat cricket club. A familiar BOOM! would be heard in the distance, sometimes it was close enough to see the night light up... then lights out... torches ... and a dark ride home.

My close call came not so long after we'd arrived in the country.

My family had moved into what became our permanent home, in a district not too far from the centre of the city. I'd been enrolled in the school set up by ex-pats and only just started going there. To get to school I was picked up by a woman in a VW camper van, along with about another 10 kids, some older, some the same age... this was my bus, (health and safety would have had a field day).

The start of the day was like many that followed, lessons, break etc etc... but then things took a drastic turn..

GRAB YOUR BAG AND STUFF! and follow the rest of the children onto the playing fields.

Off we rushed to sit in anxious rows, all crossed legged, like a morning meeting...

I had no clue about what to do, I'd only been at the school a short time, barely knew anyone or recognizsed my lift, next thing I knew I was plucked out of the crowd and with our small gang piled onto the VW bus a little earlier than usual... unaware of why.

I did hear later why, but this could have been a rumour, but apparently a bomb had been planted at the school, in the older boys drinking fountain... but like I said I don't know if this was true or not...

But it was a little to close for comfort, I did hear that after we left there was a small spate of European looking people, stuck in a traffic jam hearing a tap on the window, then being taken at gun point from their cars...

So it looks like we came back at the right time...

Chaz.. Chaz where for out thou Chaz...

Forsooth my fine fleshy followers, it is I once more Chaz, the cheerio of contemplation...

An age seem to have past since I last scribed.... indeed the very motion of my being has not been enlightened for such a time...

I did reside at the top of the fire exit stairs, the king of all I see, with my loyal subjects still beside me..

But alas there has been no forth coming solution to the problem of previous... I still weep for my true love... as she lays in Boris-le-eight-legs's web .. how sad the passage of time 'tis!

This fair and young gentle sugarpuff, should mournfully live, trapped in a web of fear...

And I languished in hope of her very return to our humble contingent.....to press her against my bosom once more... as it nearly is 'the season to be jolly'

By blood and virtue, I want to get my desires and holy wishes.. I released the Pistachio Shells of War... armed with the mighty shield of Pantone 721... my warth knew not such a peaceful end...

I wished her bright radiance returned... so I can be comforted.. with every line and trick of her sweet favour.

In her absent, non have took her place, apart from the brief flirtation with the picture of Lady Kelly Brook... my eye has not wander, cept to the place where she rests...

It's a tragedy, tragedy!.... my heart it screams!

The eagerness of the heart, dashed apon the rocks, by the reality of the world!

The fire burned within me no longer quenched by your love...

But we are bound... to be together again in some other time and place...

Our fates have all been sealed... and alas we have suffered the same demise... for we are no longer...

Tis the work possible of a cereal killer, perhaps the Honey Monster or Tony the Tiger, the Dastardley deeds of Snap Crackle and Pop... the Burke and Hare of the crunchy variety..

Alas no... goodbye cruel world.. hello once again my true love....we meet once more

Long Forgotten Messages...

I got this idea from a fellow blogger... AKH

What comes to your mind about messages or names, written inside books or lost notes within records and on their sleeves?.

Messages of hope, congratulations, friendship, the future, pride, but most of all love, scribed in books everywhere, all to strangers who's possessions are now someone else's....

I do wonder whether they were thrown out in the heat of the moment or ended up mistakenly in the charity shop, junk sale or car boot or their owners time on this earth has reached it's natural end...

Now I enjoy finding these lost messages and after learning last night, books do have a shelf life, because the pages are breaking down into acid and will one day turn to dust, so the older the message the better.

But along with these forgot messages, creating their own story within the pages of the book, there be further stories... hidden in the seams.. crib notes and forgotten bookmarks, each personal to the previous owner.

What ever was to hand, used to mark a page.. old tickets, receipts, photos anything that could act as a reminder...

Admitedly that I'm pretty materialistic about things... but in a good way... I see it's value, it's production and it's worth... I treasure it in a way, be it small, be it seemingly worthless to most.

And I do see books as a thing of power and learning, with what they contain and when you see them in numbers...

I treasure old books the most, the effort that went into some of the illustrations, the typesetting which would have been done by hand... everything about them skilled and honed to produce tomes of quality and worth, lasting more than a lifetime...

But each book can contain memories as well.. places they where bought, been and company.

(There was a thing a while back where people left books in the back of Taxi's to venture off with a new owner, until they left it in another Taxi)..

I've a book full of memories.. I've have been reading for a while... a while as in a good 8 years.. (after all it is the Odyssey by Homer), I can recall where I got it, Longridge near Preston and hidden inside it is a receipt from where I use to read it.. a deli in Chorlton, every morning I'd go in, to savour the atmosphere and the company... and more specifically the name Lizzy on the receipt, is another reminder of a old attraction....

So what will happen next to all my books?.. some with messages inside to me... will they pass on to my family and stay with them or will they pass on once more to strangers... and will they care for them in the same manner...

by giving a old tome a new home?

Catching up with the past.... any photos?...

Well this last weekend was a weird but good one.... I did a bit of time traveling... back to 1999... and partied like it was....1999,

back to near the pub (below) where I used to work behind the bar for 3 years...

It now lies derelict, unloved and unused ... a tragic victim of the smoking ban and cost of alcohol....

I remember going in through the doors many a time, to be warmly greeted by punters and friends alike even a good year after leaving its smoke filled rooms....

But that all changed, the last night I was in there was the best part of 11 years ago, at halloween.

How do I remember ... well I lent someone my previous halloween costume... that of a zombie, basically a raggy suit.. and dirty shirt...

I lent it to one of the current members of staff, (after a quick trip home as petrol was cheaper back then)... said my goodbyes at the end of the evening as normal, attended one of my colleagues wedding... and then disappeared into the ether... I seemed to have just cut them off... they still had my number.. but none called...

They weren't the only one's.. another part of the same group... I attended an after Ann Summers party... stayed till the following Sunday morning... and then vanished...

I often wondered what was going on in this friendly group I seemed to have so readily left... one of close friendships and a fun times guaranteed... but each of them would have involved drinking heavily no doubt at some stage, (which I wasn't that great at, but was quite good).... and also maybe it was me that had to change and get out of this routine...

I went back after an invite from an old friend W.

I've known W since I was 17, him being 21, both of us worked in the same factory in my native town. I'd come from a training scheme just up the road and joined this draconian workplace. Clocking in each morning, and repeating the same routine for the best part of 4 years, until the day someone said.. "If I could draw like that, I'd not be here"... so 6 months later... I wasn't.

There was a load of good times, the camaraderie that this factory contained, has never been equaled. Fridays would roll around and we'd all head into town to and go out for the evening, doing a 6pm till 2am, as this was the time that clubs shut, then onto the all night snooker rooms, followed by the sobering walk home (which were an adventure of their own)... Sometimes though a trip elsewhere came about, Blackpool, Alton Towers or horse racing....

But with it being the early 90's having a camera was a rare or a girls thing...so there are very few pictures (mostly odd angles)... but if you was lucky enough, there was the odd few on pub wall montages, including ones of family.... but as with many of these times, they are not physically recorded for posterity, they are simply remembered by the grey matter in my head, all be it a little foggy at times...

We had many nights of the same old thing of doing the pub run into town at least 3, just into town... 4 or so in the town centre, eventually ending up in this ruff biker pub.... upstairs, before we proceeded off to our 2 night clubs....

Also in the past on a night out, I had to dress more conservative, sometimes in a full suit, as it was the policy of nearly all the nightclubs not to let you wearing anything but shirt pants and shoes.... so as said before many of these times are not recorded....

So this was my life for a few years, (that many of my current friends know nothing about)....... even when I returned from college, with too much hair, (W used to grumble), I'd do an odd stint behind the bar... before getting invited round to W's new years parties... (it was also nice that I had a crush on his younger sister L for years, who I must admit looked as nice this weekend). Then once in a while ending up on the floor a little worse for wear...

But then come, the dawn of the new century all this changed, I too them just disappeared one day... not to be heard of till bookface rejoined us together.... which I'm so glad it did...

So after this reunited time at W's 40th doo, falling off the wagon of my self imposed exile on booze, getting to walk through the door and immediately getting recognised as if I'd not been away for a decade.. seeing some familiar faces I'd missed.. some not having changed... it was great and a fantastic evening followed...

But it did make me realise some of the best bits I did walk away from, even W came out with somethings we used to do..... in the end it showed what it really matters some true friendships that will always be there, easy to be rekindled by a simple appearance...

and there was always W's sister .. ha ha... (who after nearly 18 years I got to have a good laugh with, learning she's just like she used to be, clever and attractive and another great friend and I'm still on her kitchen wall montage..)

And as a final note... I did forget my camera.... damm it...!

A trip to Alton Towers, Wet and Fun... One Eye, L, W and Me about 1995

the sobering walk....

For some reason I've always felt the need to walk after a night out on the tiles or painting the town red....

From my early days of enjoying the bright lights, to the more recent ventures into the world... I still have this inherent need to walk.. and be in my own bed, with familiar surroundings... maybe it's a Caveman instinct, to be safe in your own cave... it also where I first perfected my disappearing act... and started my Homing pigeon instinct....

It first began back when I was just 17.. nearly 18... I'd just my first works Christmas doo, many of my pals knew I'd never really taken a liking to the booze, so they had planned my evenings drinking menu...

I turned up with £20 in my pocket, which back in 1991 was enough... 1 pint of Guiness, 2 lagers and a vodka with orange plus a chance find of £5 on the floor.. my night was done.. and I now had £25.... so after quick goodbye's.. off I toddled... home a short while later.... 2.3 miles.. slightly damp and a grin on my face greeted by my parents.... this was the first time of many...

So this was the start of something...

There was a few ways to get home, various distances, including the scenic one along the side of the Leeds to Liverpool Canal, but this only could be done in the day time... it was stumbled in the summer of 96 after the end of college and a few New-key Browns, it was slightly longer than all other options but like I said it was scenic.....

Eventually I extended my walk from the centre of town after the clubs... Peppermint Place, Mr G's and Manhattan Heights, Northern Lights... still most were uneventful as I always had rules of which to follow:

1. Always walk or stagger as fast as possible...

2. Always have the other person, stranger walking home on the opposite side of the road..

3. Don't look drunk.....

but there was a few incidents that I'm going to mention....

First memorable time was just after a riot in the town. We'd been to far to many clubs, saying goodbye to our swedish colleague as he was going home.... once the clubs had shut it was off to the all night snooker club... My cue control was non existent ... but a couple of hours later off I went home....

Now the riots had been going from town to town in the Northwest, some quite serious... so it was a little risky to be on my own and white.... but it was 5am and was getting light, (even rioters had to sleep)..... and looking around I seemed to be the only hint of life (be it staggering like a zombie) in a empty town for quite a while... no cars, trucks...

Until one police car came down the road.. and pulled up at the side of me....

Policeman: Hello.. where have you been?

Me: Drinking, Pub.. (no doubt with breath that could have peeled paint, I could only say single words and hoped they'd form a sentence).

Policeman: Till this time!...

Me: no sorry, been playing snooker...

Policeman: ...right....What's your name?...(his colleague smirking in the background of my foggy vision)

(here I had to chance to be named anything I wished.. but opted for the truth, just in case)

Policeman: No we're not looking for you.. bye...

They were very polite.. but they could have given me a lift.. I was freezing...

All this being a fairly boring first incident....

Things soon progressed and my distance increased once again... but the saviour on this occasion, what late night food, be it a kebab or in this case a large garlic bread (yes it is the future we've seen it).

This time I had accompanied a friend back to their house, but then I had to get home... all be it happy with my garlic bread...

So I exited the estate.. but in doing so passed a few people.. and one getting questioned by two young boys... about if he had seen their dog...

Now 2 things automatically went through my brain... first why were these kids where up at this time... but secondary and most importantly.. I knew I was going to meet this dog and from the description, it was fairly big....

So I quickened my pace, which was a mistake.. rather than get me away quicker... it just meant I met the dog sooner.... so the next thing I know is there is a growling behind me... and it's nothing to do with bodily functions.....

What does one do in this situation?... it's dark, the dog has already taken an offence to meeting me... so much to my dismay I dropped some of my garlic bread....

Now the area I was in I'd have been surprised if this dog had seen such a bountiful meal presented to him...and so proceeded to eat away... but apart from the helpful quickening of my pace... this lead to me gaining a new friend...

So again a growling came from behind.... so being a bit of a mouse rather than a man (remember it was a large dog) I took one last bite and closed the rest in the box... and dropped it.. before the wet nose could get any closer to my behind.

The last noise I heard was the dog trying to get in the box and I ran off...

The third incident well the walk was not as long... but what happened was a very close call...

In the picture below near the trees on the left used to be a phone box..

I'd got this far, again in the company of a friend, but on this evening it was a cold and foggy and not too late, so thankfully I could still ring my mother, who had already said she'd pick me up.

Now this was a badly lit area.. and the phone box had no door (which thinking of what happened could have lead to something worst...)

So 10p in the slot.. it was just before I had a mobile.. and a quick conversation.. I was done...

Now since my early outings to the bright lights I've developed tinitus and on this night I had been yet again in a rather loud pub...

As I turned round to exit the box... there was a squel of tyres... then a rush of movement... but along with this was a reflection of my face....

'A reflection of his face?'...

What had happened was a car had come to the junction down the hill at some pace... flying through the lights and mounted the pavement, so as I turned round in the box the car missed me by a few inches... allowing me to see my shocked expression in it's windows.

But rather than stop it drove off, still at some pace in the direction of town... I stood there for longer than a moment .. shocked at my possible demise and also my lucky escape... and as I mentioned before, would it have been different if the box had a door?

I did not see the car as it had disappeared into the fog, one thing was for sure it wasn't my mother trying to get rid of me..

she turned up a few minutes later...

Tiles, the ceramic story makers...

Tiles.... their random patterns cover many a bathroom or kitchen wall across the land.. their random patterns hide face's, animals and many more semi recognizable shapes.... that the human brian pulls out from the surface.

Take the one above... it glorified my childhood home for years... not in this colour but a avacado green... to match the suite...(it seems it came in 3 different colours)....

Each tile was the same... random pattern apon it's ceramic surface... so like their plain cousins, there was an order on which they should be placed on the wall... the only thing random was which was to be the bottom edge...

So what did I see... well I saw a squirrel running up a tree after escaping from a fox....

Now this squirrel ran away from the fox for years... my eyes would only follow a few tiles ... but as the years went by I'd explore the whole adventure that spread all around the bathroom... from wall to ceiling.... more of the small seemingly unending adventure unfolding before my eyes.. and in my head...... slowly though I began spotting the flaws within the fitters tiling, which only added to the story... the odd one here and there making it look like the squirrel was racing to it's fate of getting eaten... or a quick change of direction.. looping back on itself and back down the tree....... and as I said seemingly unending...

But the squirrel did end it's long escape..... the bathroom got redecorated... along with many others....

(This was only one of the stories which I saw within this tile)

But every now and again another random tile would offer up another mysterious, simple... or what ever I wished story.... to be made up there and then or over time.... from it's patterns.. be it floor or wall....

What do you see?.... I see a crowd of people...

The Impeccable sense of irony of a late night DJ.

I often thought that I'm fairly intuned to what is going on around me, memories in particular helping in this... adding extra dimensions to normal feelings... bringing them up faster than a dodgy meal...

How did it begin....

for a while now my Ipod at times began playing songs that have been atuned to what I was currently thinking... it seems to have become a psychic, but it hit home in a different way recently when I got a lift off the woman I adore... her radio was on in the car, overlaying our conversation...

The radio DJ announced what was about to come on.. a song which moved a girl every time she heard it. (not the one I was with).

Late night DJ's are a special bunch, we all have an idea of what they might look like...

A ruff looking older guy.. heavy smoker voice, his trade mark.... years of early morning work have sort of turned them into a vampire... never seen during the day, having to deal with other insomniacs, tuned in to past the twilight time between the moon and the sun...

But their senses have been fine tuned over the years.. ready to hit the irony spot with late night love songs... causal talk..

So here I was somewhere I've wanted to be for a long time, but as in my previous blog.. I've been trying to forget and change.. We'd only just seen each again after a while, now as mentioned before this woman I've been in love with for ages, so just as we set off on this short journey, which I never thought would happen.... up pipes the late night DJ... cue the ironic moment..

Madonna's Crazy for you! played out through her car.... irony that the song lasted as long as the journey... it is the second time this has happened in her presence, my thoughts seemingly on show ..... but I've wondered is this the greater thing ie fate telling me something...

or am I tuned in better than a radio station itself?...