My dad died on the 18th of May, it was relatively sudden, although he was 85 and had been ill on and off for years.
I drove 180 miles to try to see him but he was gone before I got there.
I organised the funeral, wrote and delivered the eulogy, sorted the photos for the order of service and co-wrote the celebrant’s speech.
I had a small cry during the eulogy, but still managed to finish it.
I organised and paid for the food and drinks after the funeral and managed to catch up with a few people that I’d lost touch with and I then went to visit a terminally ill friend.
I sat on his bed and had a chat for an hour or so and drank some of his bourbon for him.
And that was that.
I had a short, pre-planned holiday, then I went back to work and threw myself into corporate politics and a restructure of global teams with a ruthlessness and coldness that would have made me a multimillionaire if I’d begun my career with that mindset.
And that’s it.
I’m not sad when I think of my dad (or mum) there’s just a gap, a void where there was a purpose. I can’t call him and listen to him complain for the few minutes that he actually talked, I can’t tell him of any interesting or dull events – there’s just a void in the space where we talked.
I know there’s one within me too, I don’t do emotional up and downs very much, but I’m flat even by my standards. I try to cover it over, but it’s still there and I think that it will be for a while.
I’ve had one ‘good’ day since June, I still walk the doglets and laugh at their silliness and it’s probably them that stops me obsessing over lost love and people that are effectively gone for ever.
I need to snap out of it, but even writing about it is just an intellectual exercise.
I had a short story come to me in my sleep last night, it’s nasty and violent, but I’ll write it to see if it makes me feel any different.
We were in the kitchen, I was cooking their food for the next few days and I’d sat on the sofa with a beer .
I was quickly colonised by the doglets and their bickering made a nice counterpoint to the music playing in the background- Halestorm’s Familiar Taste of Poison.
Milo was sniggering that his Blue Tick status on twitter was annoying some supposed adults and Cairo was giving him her Indignant Teddy Bear stare.
‘So.. why is HE verified and I’m not? Is it because he’s older and slower and doesn’t kill anything or otherwise do anything around here apart from showing how versatile his ears are?’
I pretended that I couldn’t hear anything and Milo just continued to do his Muttley impersonation.
Cairo yawned, slowly and deliberately, staring at him while she did so, her large jaws that had killed so many things recently were filled with sharp, shiny teeth.
Milo stopped his laughing.
She looked at me again.
Come on. Why is HE verified and I’m not? I’m just as cute – even if he’s slightly more famous.
I swigged some beer and looked into the middle distance, the hills offering no inspiration.
‘It’s like this. Milo’s is the account that I use when I want to annoy people. Yours is all sweet pictures and the odd death statistic. Also. You can only have one verified account on a phone. So…..’
She stared at me some more and Milo..
The little shit. Said.
‘Well that’s simple. Just get another phone and you can verify her too. Can’t you? ‘
They both stared at me, orange eyes glowing with some hidden amusement.
‘Erm’
Cairo raised her head up, and showed her teeth again. I swear that she sounded like Glenn Close for a few seconds.
‘That’s a good idea Milo, or I can wait until you have an accident….’
She grinned.
Milo put a small paw onto my leg , stared up at me with his best floppy ear look and made his suggestion.
‘It’s her birthday in July. Perhaps you can verify her then…’
‘Yeah ok. I suppose. As long as it’s still funny. Might be even funnier with two of you.
Maybe.
I’m getting worried about how much you’re ganging up on me lately though, you’re enjoying it far too much.’
They grinned again and padded to the oven to indicate that it was time for their dinner to be served.
I took a long swig of my beer and consoled myself with knowing that the little shits were getting their jabs in a few weeks.
It was fairly quiet in the office, a light rain was falling – again, and the dogs had been dozing while music played softly in the background, their little snores almost in time with the song.
I must have sighed or something because they were both suddenly alert and staring at me intently.
‘What? did I wake you?’
‘You seem sad, are you OK ? Are you? Are you? is it us? is it? is it?’
‘No, not you at all’ – they both relaxed slightly – ‘I just have a few friends who need more help than I can give them and that makes me a little bit sad.’
‘Tell us.’
‘No, you can’t help either, sorry.’
“Tell us a story, tell us something from the BeforeTime.’
‘The BeforeTime?’
‘Before Us.’
‘Hmm, what sort of story? – I’m not doing anything sad.’
‘Something interesting, fights and bravery, cowards and excitement, tell us, tell us.’
I could see that I wasn’t going to get any peace and to be truthful; it at least took my mind out of the state that I’d been in.
“Ok, this is a long, long time ago, before your own mums or their mums were born, before mobile phones and being able to work from an office at home like this.’
‘Yes, The BeforeTime, tell us.’
‘OK, let’s start on New Years Eve 1982, I was in a pub in Essex with two of my brothers and it was near closing time. I was talking to a barmaid and I noticed that a fight had started. I made my way outside with my brothers and a splinter group of five or six from the fighting people attacked us as we walked past.
We had short, sporadic fights with them for the whole of the walk home – almost two miles. A couple of them got hurt but we made it home unscathed. They had gone for reinforcements and were outside our house in cars.
It would have got much worse as we’d had time to go indoors to pick up some sharp bits and pieces, but as luck had it, the police turned up and broke everything up for the night.’
They were watching me closely.
‘Is that the story?’
‘No, it’s just how the story starts, because after that night, I had an enemy and he wanted my blood.’
Their eyes widened.
“Why?
‘ I never found out, it may have been as simple as me talking to the barmaid, but it made life interesting for a while.’ I used to work at the back of a hospital and went to parties in the nurses’ homes at least once a week and every now and again he’d turn up with some of his mates and it would get tense.’
‘I got asked by some nurses to ask him and a few of his mates who’d got rowdy, to leave a party once and had just convinced his group to go, only to find that somebody had called the police, so that didn’t help – and it just rolled on, he’d see me, he’d make threats and i’d mostly ignore him, if he was going to do anything on his own, he’d have done it. I was his enemy, but he wasn’t mine, I didn’t care enough.’
Cairo looked at me intently.
‘Do I have enemies?’
‘Yes. sort of, yours are hardwired into you, you killed one yesterday.’
Her eyes glowed.
‘Yes the French. They must die.’
“Hang on? the fucking French? what’s that about?’
“No, I said RATS, RATS, you heard French, I think that says more about you than you’d like people to know.’
Milo nodded.
“She did.’
I wasn’t convinced that the two little bastards weren’t winding me up, but what could I do?
‘Anyway, time went on and I forgot all about him as usual. And then I went to the same pub where the fight happened with three friends for a midweek evening drink. We’d had one beer each when in he walked with eleven of his mates, he looked very happy.’
“You’re fucking dead tonight.’ He stated flatly and I was doing the maths in my head.
Twelve of them and four of us. None of the others were fighters really, although one of them claimed repeatedly to be a Kung Fu expert, but I was never convinced.
So, one ‘fighter’, one borderline alcoholic who was very overweight and one normal bloke who worked as a lab technician – and me.
We were fucked.
The odds were three to one and one of the other lads on his side was almost seven feet tall.
I turned round to look at my meagre group of friends, only to find that two of them, the ‘fighter’ and the fat lad had run through the back door without even saying goodbye.
We were really fucked.
I turned to the lab technician and told him the plan.
‘Right, you need to go outside, go to the phone box and call the police and an ambulance, I’m going to need both. Off you go.’
The idiot surprised me.
“Fuck off, I’m staying, I’m not leaving you alone for this.’
“GO TO THE PHONE BOX. YOU STUPID CUNT. THIS ISN’T YOUR FIGHT.’
‘FUCK OFF – I”M STAYING.’
I glanced behind me, all twelve were watching intently, I couldn’t be sure what was going on but nobody had thrown a punch yet.
I spoke to my friend.
‘Fine, don’t blame me if you get killed, you stupid bastard, we can’t win here and they all know it.’
I turned to them.
‘Don’t you?’ I asked softly and they had to lean in to listen.
“I know that I’m getting a kicking here, although I don’t remember what it is that I’m supposed to be getting it for, but that’s fair enough. I’m not walking away tonight under my own power. ‘
A few of them grinned.
The dogs looked even more alert.
‘Were you scared? Were you?’
‘Yes, of course I was, there was no way on earth that we could win. But I also couldn’t let my friend get hurt, so I spoke a little bit more softly.’
‘So, I’m going down tonight, that’s OK with me, but he’ – pointing to my friend – ‘isn’t anything to do with this, he’s brave but he’s fucking stupid. But twelve on one isn’t really fair is it?’
I looked at them all, a few, the toughest looking ones were nodding, so I kept talking.
‘Here’s what I think we should do, me and you’ – pointing at my self-appointed enemy – ‘We go outside and the winner walks back in here. If it’s you, then we’re done. If it’s me – then…’
I looked at the group.
“One of you is next and we go again. And again if need be. I know that I’m going down and it might be you..’ – pointing at him again and touching him on the shoulder. ‘I know you have a decent reputation as a fighter, but I dunno. Anyway, I’m getting fucked up tonight, we might as well get on with it.’
I watched him hesitate.
‘Or, like I said earlier, I can’t remember what it was that started this and I don’t really care, we could just say fuck it and have a beer. Your call, I’ll buy the first one.’
He clapped me on the shoulder and shook my hand. I sat on the barstool and started ordering drinks, my face hadn’t changed but my legs had given way.
The dogs were starting to doze again.
‘And your friend, the brave one, is he still a friend?’
“And i was Best Man at his wedding some time ago, I also saved him from a couple of beatings – and I just messaged him again because it’s been a few years and friends should be for life.’
The sun had now come out and the dogs were asleep again – and…..
I felt slightly better, we can only do what we can, it’s the trying that’s important.
It’s Sunday evening. I’m cooking Duck a L’orange and Cairo is wandering around as music plays in the kitchen. There’s a log fire and Milo is asleep in front of it.
I went to a wake yesterday and was mildly surprised to find that I was the first speaker, I hadn’t prepared and had never met him.
It seemed ok when I spoke, I’m fairly good at bullshit. I left early for two reasons.
Firstly, I’d arranged to meet somebody new from Twitter
Secondly, one of my oldest and best friends told me he was terminal this week and I couldn’t quite trust myself not to get maudlin.
It was a good call.
I had a fantastic, wide ranging conversation that spanned decades.
And books. And films. And jobs. And parents. And robot lawnmowers. And lived experiences. And writing . And doglets. Particularly rescue doglets.
Genuinely a great evening.
Take a moment for yourself when you read this. Have a drink of something nice, call an old friend or tell somebody you love them. Or cuddle your own doglet.
The past is a strange thing, it sometimes comes back and you get a reminder of things you’ve done and the reasons that you did them.
This isn’t really a blog post, it’s a stitching together of the various posts of what happened in the days when my Uncle and Aunt were controlled and coerced, robbed and abused, moved at no notice from county to county and finally rescued.
There’s one more thing. That will be at the end of this post – I hope that this is the last time that I have to type the name Susan Auckland, but I guess we’ll see.
It was all closed off, the house was sold, the money is paying for Shirley’s care, her relatives are seeing her on a regular basis.
But it appears that some people can’t help repeating their previous behaviours and Susan has turned up again in a small town in Scotland.
Here’s the difference this time.
She’s managed to make somebody suspicious at an early stage.
And they’ve done it to the wrong person this time, somebody who will do the right thing.
They contacted me last week, I was initially suspicious, but I’ve got quite good at this and I found that they’re a real person, with a documented life and no agenda but to do the right thing.
So we spoke.
I’ve offered advice where I can and given names of those in the police and social services who can give the locals information if needed.
And just like that, the world is slightly smaller for Susan and slightly brighter for anybody that she may have been targeting.
To the person who contacted me, I’m glad that you did.
For everybody else. This isn’t an isolated issue, if you’re worried about somebody- call it out, report it. Follow up. It can’t hurt and you may just stop somebody from financially or physically abusing somebody vulnerable.
For Susan. If you’re still name-searching via your solicitor- I hope that this is a good read for them.
Imagine, a small god of hedgerows and countryside; genial and amenable, but slightly bored in the winter lull.
Imagine this small but happy god, it’s been drifting with a bird of prey, watching through the extraordinary eyes of the bird as it sees a pair of beings from a height of over 500 feet.
The god can see a strange aura between the two beings and drops from the raptor to get closer to the two.
This is what it sees.
One smaller being, one larger. The larger being moves more slowly and wears multiple layers of clothes.
One smaller being, one larger. A master and a pupil.
The master is teaching a lesson to the pupil and the god gets a little closer to pick up the thought patterns as the teaching continues.
The master’s focus is incredible, he has sighted on a single leaf of a sprawling holly bush and can see every single vein, every detail of every needle.
He sights in on the centre of the leaf, a tiny area where the main vein bisects the leaf and is exactly the same distance from the needle at either side.
Pausing for a second, the master tells the student that this is what is known as ‘Mushin” in Japanese, it translates as either ‘no mind’ or ’empty mind’ – this is vital to the accuracy of the shot that he will take.
He pauses.
He begins to control his breathing and focusses in even further on the leaf.
The god is fascinated, it has never seen this before and it is amazed even further when the master’s aura shimmers and blurs – focus is now complete.
The master is ready to let fly at his target.
His body is still, his mind calm, every muscle is attuned to the task.
He lifts one leg.
And lets fly with a a stream of urine that hits the leaf exactly where he has aimed.
The god begins to drift away, there is no more to learn here.
As he gains altitude, it hears from the pupil for the first time.
“Fucking hell Milo, I thought you’d never do that, can we start walking again now please?’
I’m sat in my office right now with two sleeping doglets. Music in the background and I’m monitoring some issues for work.
It’s quiet and peaceful and I can see a huge section of the Shropshire Hills through the windows.
It’s genuinely a good life and sometimes i think that I could happily slow down and keep slowing down. And sometimes I remember that my blood used to sing when I was younger and that I had no self-imposed limits to what I’d do if I thought something needed to be done.
Somebody that I’ve never met died at the weekend and I became a bit-player in their last act for a few weeks as the opportunity to help them and their family was placed in front of me.
It couldn’t be ignored and I never mentioned it publicly.
The man in question was a genuine one-off who influenced thousands of people, whilst upsetting quite a few others too. The world is a poorer place without him, he was a free-thinker, a good man and a good father. Word of his death would definitely trigger strong responses.
So I volunteered to do so. I have no family connection, no emotional ties and I’m not a fragile flower.
My Twitter timeline exploded for a few days, mostly from people who were upset to hear the news, along with hundreds of people sending abuse that was boring, repetitive and ultimately pointless. I wasn’t offended or bothered even once, even the worst messages were sent by people of limited or no imagination.
It did amuse me for a while and I’ve saved some of the best / worst examples for later use at some point.
And I’m glad I did it, it drew the attention away from others for a few days – while getting the news out in a controlled fashion.
You know that you’ve had more than enough to drink when your dogs start to recite poetry at you on New Year’s Eve.
I was just finishing some rather lovely bourbon when Milo – it’s always him, he’s the deep thinker of the two. Cairo is more of a Special Forces doglet, she’s sweet and intelligent, a natural born killer, but he’s the deep one.
He looked up and just stared in that way that he does, the fire roaring behind him, the rain and the wind battering the house.
‘So then, New Year…will we all be ok ?’
Cairo’s ears perked up, it’s Year Zero for her, this is all new.
I waited for a while before answering.
‘Probably. That’s the best I can say really. I hope so and I’ll do my best to make sure’
Cairo sat next to him, I now had two sets of glowing eyes to contend with.
‘Does that mean that you’ll take us back to the sad place?’
She looked so distraught, I could feel myself welling up.
‘No. That’ll never happen whatever the future holds, that will never happen. I’ve made arrangements and you’d never want for anything- either of you’
Then it was Milo. They were teaming up.
‘What if it’s us, will you be there? You won’t leave us will you ?
Cairo nudged closer to him
I was at a loss… and then. And then.
You’ve been listening to poetry again haven’t you ? who is it this time?
And in unison, which is pretty fucking creepy when dogs do it, they recited, the fire going dimmer behind them.
‘Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.’
I laughed. Thank fuck for that.
They stared.
‘Yeats. You’ve been listening to Yeats. He’d just had a kid. That was at least the third woman that he’d proposed to. ‘
They kept staring.
‘I’m not going anywhere. Nor are you – at least not over New Year. None of us.’
They kept staring.
‘Do you promise’
‘ I promise to stay with you for as long as we all live – good enough? ‘
They ran to the back door and patrolled the grounds. I had another quick drink.
This may be a bit of a rambling post, let’s see how it goes.
I have a white shadow with me almost every hour of every day that I’m at home.
The shadow is always there and is currently sat on the sofa in my office. The shadow is watching me type right now.
In a while, the shadow will sleep, dozing quietly and contentedly in the sun while music plays and I talk to people across the world in conference calls.
I’ve been looking back on life and pondering the choices that brought me here.
‘If I’d done that thing instead of this, where would I be? Would anything at all be the same?’
It’s the sort of mental exercise that could leave you second-guessing your whole life.
The Vikings believed that much of our fate was predetermined, but not all of it.
The imagery most often used in Viking myth and literature to depict fate — three sisters, sitting at the base of the World Tree where they weave the fates of all men and gods on their looms shows that the Vikings believed our fates are an evolving, ever changing pattern that is constantly being created
So, was I always destined to be here, in this place, at this time, with a sleeping shadow opposite me?
Who knows?
I met an old flame for dinner in London a few weeks ago, we hadn’t seen each other for at least ten years and we spent the first hour tentatively catching up. She now has two kids and a dog, has moved house and job and seems happy. I’ve moved house more than a few times, still have no kids but have two dogs.
We then proceeded to get drunk and probe some old wounds.
Then we got drunker, went dancing til three and I put her safely into a pre-paid black cab back home.
We’ll likely go out again in a few weeks, we’re definitely in the friend zone now, but once… it could have all been different. A different thread leading to a different strand altogether.
The shadow is now asleep as I type and won’t move until I do in a few hours. It’s a very peaceful time of the day (09:30) – no calls and not a lot of work to do today.
Although I have to go to a funeral.
It’ll be a nice funeral, it’s for an old neighbour, she lived to be 95 and was fit and healthy towards the end, I’ll catch up with some old neighbours and will then move on to see my old landlord / next door neighbour and have a cup of tea.
He had a heart attack last year and has decided to make a ton of changes to his life, including selling his businesses and starting to consolidate a large property empire.
He’s also bought a Ferrari.
I’m genuinely looking forward to seeing him again, I loved living next door to him and Milo would happily follow him around the workshop all day – as long as sandwich sharing was involved.
And there’s another thread.
Milo….
I’ve written too many words about him really, but suffice to say that I love the little maniac more than I ever thought I could and that he’s shaped the past few years in many ways. One of the reasons that I bought this house was the nearly two acres of land and trees that came with it. It’s a playground for dogs as well as having views across the Shropshire Hills.
My office is a new addition and sits just behind the orchard. I’m looking out at the Wrekin as I type, (the shadow is still asleep)
But a few years ago, it was massively different.
When I started This story I lived around the corner to the lady whose funeral I’ll attend later. This was two houses ago for me and I worked for an entirely different company.
In fact I hated my job and that came to a close during the Arthur and Shirley saga too, leading into a short but painful period of unemployment and then an offer for three months contract work that turned into a full time job that’s taken me back out to Malaysia and Australia and given me something very rare for me.
Actual friends in the workplace.
The last time that happened was 10 years ago or so and I’m glad to say that they’re still friends, still in touch and even joined my birthday drinks in Nottingham a few weeks ago.
Speaking of the Arthur and Shirley Saga, that came to an end as a story earlier this year https://smallthunderdog.blog/2022/03/20/put-your-lights-on and I’m happy to say that Shirley is still doing well and is being regularly visited by the family that she’d lost touch with after Susan threw away her address books. Here she is yesterday (December 20th) with photos of Cairo on the wall behind her along with a new ‘memories’ photo frame from her family.
That’s a thread that I’m glad that I took, it gave me some new friends that I hadn’t previously known in real life and showed me just how good people can be in the face of true, low level, vapid evil.
It took me to some strange places, showed me the best and worst of people and stripped away some of the things that I had been before. I’m not necessarily a better person now – in fact, I’m far from ‘good’, but I can’t ignore random chance anymore or pretend that I can’t see people in need when I can help.
My grandfather was a blacksmith and I’m not sure if my love of all things sharp and shiny comes from him or some other place deep in my ancestry, but I’m taking the opportunity in February to use a few days leave and take a three day Damascus knife-making course.
And there’s another thread.. a complete coincidence. probably ( I said this may be rambling) but on the second night of my course, I’ll be attending a black-tie award ceremony for something I kicked off here. https://smallthunderdog.blog/2022/07/12/hopeful-hound/ and it’s just ten miles down the road, just one of the many coincidences that seem to happen when you make a decision.
Is it fate? Is it all predetermined?
I have no idea.
My shadow has moved to the bed under my desk and has been joined by Milo in the office.
It’s been such a short time really, but she’s become so attached to me and I to her that it’s hard to remember life without her.
But without the decision to take Milo, fuelled by my love of another person’s dog and the need to have my own companion, triggering a seemingly random and unstoppable series of events, neither of us would be in this place at this time.
Like I said, it’s rambling, it can play with your mind a bit.
We’re living in strange and unprecedented times and it’s genuinely hard to keep up with the state of the country and the wider world beyond. If you’re above a certain age (and living in the UK) the standards that we were brought up to believe were good for all of us have been eroded to such an extent that it feels like a different country altogether.
The Police, once the people that you could rely on to be there when you needed help, have become politicised to such a degree that they’re unrecognisable. Misgender somebody or go for a walk outside during ‘lockdown’ and you’re in deep trouble. Pull down statues, vandalise property, block roads or access to foodstuffs and it’s er.. more or less ok.
Don’t get burgled or robbed in broad daylight, they’ve better things to do.
The sainted NHS, saviour to our nation is still not allowing visitors to sick relatives in some locations and we’re in for another winter of doom, despite around 40% of our GDP being paid to it.
Male sex offenders are being treated as women – because they say that they are. Eddie Izzard is running as a candidate to be a Labour MP – as a woman. He’s a biological man who hasn’t undergone surgery or any transition activities at all, but if you say this, you’re a bigot.
Child Molesters are openly supporting Transgender pressure groups and grown men are dressing as women and displaying their genitalia to children, with no penalties. They get applause instead.
Government is now just a collection of people who want to tell US what to do rather than being servants of the people.
A multi-millionaire who screwed the public finances, triggered a leadership election for the sitting Prime Minister and lost a membership vote is likely to be Prime Minister today without undergoing any form of public vote apart from as a local candidate in the 2019 General Election.
He’s done this with collusion from the media and fellow travellers from his own party, despite being fined for the same issues that killed off his previous boss
The war in Ukraine drains our finances and is threatening to bring in power-cuts for our population later this year – horribly similar to the lockdown rules.
Inflation is rising and taxpayers are being squeezed – again, while thousands of illegal immigrants flood our shores every week and are then given four-star accommodation and benefits – at our cost.
Let’s not even mention Covid-passes, Digital ID and all that entails, we narrowly squeaked through last year and they’ve had to pause.
These things may or may not be related, I’m suspicious enough of our government that I took steps to reduce my dependency on the grid last year, a few hours of power-cuts – even daily won’t hurt at all.
But it will close pubs, we’ll lose more pubs and restaurants, local shops and businesses as they won’t be able to continue to even break even. Horribly similar to lockdown.
What are we supposed to do in the face of this relentless assault on our liberties, freedoms and way of life?
Who knows.
I do know that the answer isn’t to demand the othering of people, I want the idiot protesters dealt with under existing laws, not to have new laws removing the right to protest.
For Izzard and his ilk, laugh at them, they hate it.
For ‘our’ government, no idea, they hold the cards today but it’s a very tenuous grip on power and could be removed in days if enough of us wanted that – except we’d need a better alternative.
So.. What to do?
Stand strong, stick to those values, I’ve let vulnerable neighbours know that I’ll have power when we lose it and that they’ll be welcome.
Keep talking to people, meet up with friends and relatives in person when you can; give something to those in need if you can, share ideas, push back at the frankly ludicrous agendas being forced upon us.
Hold your line if you think you’re doing the right thing.
Do what you think is right, not what others tell you.
Act like you’re in the middle of an invisible war.
smallthunderdog 