Unfortunately I always seem to be blogging about something sad, today is no different. My best friend died on Friday night.
Phil Jarrold was the first friend I made when my family moved to Woodbridge, my hometown. He was the most charismatic, intelligent, talented person I knew and we did everything together. We had our first cigarette when we were 12, we had our first drink around the same time. Me, Phil and Lee were inseparable and raised hell at school to the point we were put into different classes. This happened after we locked a teacher in the supply cupboard, I guess we were 12 at the time.
We went through high school together too. One day I was walking to school, late as usual, and I saw Phil at the bottom of the road sitting under a tree smoking a spliff, I sat next to him and asked what he was doing.
"Fuckun Freddy Mercury died last night, I'm taking the fuckun day off man" and that was Phil, he didn't conform, he was so passionate about things. He had the potential to be a professional guitarist and more. Unfortunately his need to get shit faced took over and he soon became dependent on alcohol and benzos.
I don't know how he died, all I know is that I will miss him with every fiber of my body. Out of my group of close friends 5 are dead and all before the age of 35.
I love you Phil and you'll always be alive in my memories and in my heart.
A true legend, rest in peace Brother, god bless.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
My Dad
He was sitting in the bed when I walked in, wearing only a white gown. I'd seen him like this a lot over the past few months, only this time was different, he was awake.
The room smelled like it always did, of disinfectant. The usual things were happening, people rushed around with trolleys, checked machines and gave reassuring nods.
My Dad looked like a 3 year old, naive as if he didn't have a clue to where he had been for the last 3 months. He didn't know who I was, but he knew he could trust me. He held my hand as I stood next to the bed, I'd held his hand hundreds of times in the past few weeks but this time he held mine back.
Tears rolled down my face as I reassured him everything was going to be ok, but I don't think he knew anything was wrong.
"Help me get this started"
"Get what started?"
"This car..."
"It's not a car. It's your bed"
"No its not! It's a car. Get it started, I don't want to be here anymore!"
"But Dad, it's a bed, it hasn't got an engine"
"I can feel it vibrating. Have you seen the English man with the French accent? He can get me out of here, talk to him"
"Ok Dad"
The first conversation I had with my Dad after he had come out of his coma is one I will never forget. I hadn't left his bedside in 2 months, only to go and buy more heroin. I would sit in the toilet in the ICCU and inject myself before going and sitting with him for a couple more hours. I was sure he would die and I was overwhelmed with guilt. I hadn't spent enough time with him, I hadn't spoken to him in the months leading up to his accident, and if he had died...... This is all I could think of, perhaps selfish on my front, I dunno.
Seeing my Dad like that is one of the main reasons I went into rehab. I had hurt my family enough and they had done plenty for me. What could I do for them? If my Mother was taken ill? What could I possibly do for someone else being the mess that I was?
My Dad has almost made a full recovery, luckily he doesn't remember anything of the accident or the time he spent in hospital, but I do, I remember it everyday, and it helps put things into perspective sometimes, if i'm getting down about bills, or if something hasn't gone my way, I always remember, things could be a whole lot worse.
The room smelled like it always did, of disinfectant. The usual things were happening, people rushed around with trolleys, checked machines and gave reassuring nods.
My Dad looked like a 3 year old, naive as if he didn't have a clue to where he had been for the last 3 months. He didn't know who I was, but he knew he could trust me. He held my hand as I stood next to the bed, I'd held his hand hundreds of times in the past few weeks but this time he held mine back.
Tears rolled down my face as I reassured him everything was going to be ok, but I don't think he knew anything was wrong.
"Help me get this started"
"Get what started?"
"This car..."
"It's not a car. It's your bed"
"No its not! It's a car. Get it started, I don't want to be here anymore!"
"But Dad, it's a bed, it hasn't got an engine"
"I can feel it vibrating. Have you seen the English man with the French accent? He can get me out of here, talk to him"
"Ok Dad"
The first conversation I had with my Dad after he had come out of his coma is one I will never forget. I hadn't left his bedside in 2 months, only to go and buy more heroin. I would sit in the toilet in the ICCU and inject myself before going and sitting with him for a couple more hours. I was sure he would die and I was overwhelmed with guilt. I hadn't spent enough time with him, I hadn't spoken to him in the months leading up to his accident, and if he had died...... This is all I could think of, perhaps selfish on my front, I dunno.
Seeing my Dad like that is one of the main reasons I went into rehab. I had hurt my family enough and they had done plenty for me. What could I do for them? If my Mother was taken ill? What could I possibly do for someone else being the mess that I was?
My Dad has almost made a full recovery, luckily he doesn't remember anything of the accident or the time he spent in hospital, but I do, I remember it everyday, and it helps put things into perspective sometimes, if i'm getting down about bills, or if something hasn't gone my way, I always remember, things could be a whole lot worse.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
NOT a Comedian!!!
Unoriginal, talentless hack, not funny, your "Jokes" suck......
Just some of the insults I've had fired at me on Twitter.
First of all, I do this for fun, I'm not a comedian and I don't claim to be funny. Talentless? shit, if I was being paid to Tweet and was failing at it miserably, then and only then would I even consider "talent." The truth of the matter is, I don't Tweet for you, I do it for me, please don't get me wrong, the fact that I can make at least a few of you laugh every day is great to know.
I started Twitter probably the same as most people, following celebs, replying to their Tweets on the off chance they would reply. I started using Twitter because I had a lot of spare time on my hands as I choose to give up drinking just after Christmas. I know my humor isn't for everybody, but instead of bitching about it, why not just unfollow? You probably feel a bit special having somebody with more than 14 followers telling you "GO FUCK YOURSELF!"
I know I take Twitter more seriously than some, definitely not as serious as others. I know there will always be some twat who will try and get a rise out of you.
Just know this, I never once said I was funny. I didn't pass any of my GCSE's in high school. I don't promise anything to you in my bio, and I don't believe that I am actually Superman!
So please, if you follow, thats great, I really do appreciate that, but if you DON'T want to follow, don't, just unfollow, there is absolutely no need to point out my grammatical errors or whether or not that particular tweet made you laugh or not!
Anyway, thanks for reading. Peace.
Just some of the insults I've had fired at me on Twitter.
First of all, I do this for fun, I'm not a comedian and I don't claim to be funny. Talentless? shit, if I was being paid to Tweet and was failing at it miserably, then and only then would I even consider "talent." The truth of the matter is, I don't Tweet for you, I do it for me, please don't get me wrong, the fact that I can make at least a few of you laugh every day is great to know.
I started Twitter probably the same as most people, following celebs, replying to their Tweets on the off chance they would reply. I started using Twitter because I had a lot of spare time on my hands as I choose to give up drinking just after Christmas. I know my humor isn't for everybody, but instead of bitching about it, why not just unfollow? You probably feel a bit special having somebody with more than 14 followers telling you "GO FUCK YOURSELF!"
I know I take Twitter more seriously than some, definitely not as serious as others. I know there will always be some twat who will try and get a rise out of you.
Just know this, I never once said I was funny. I didn't pass any of my GCSE's in high school. I don't promise anything to you in my bio, and I don't believe that I am actually Superman!
So please, if you follow, thats great, I really do appreciate that, but if you DON'T want to follow, don't, just unfollow, there is absolutely no need to point out my grammatical errors or whether or not that particular tweet made you laugh or not!
Anyway, thanks for reading. Peace.
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