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    Ferry!

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    Yesterday I popped over to Gosport with my Aunt and Cousins. I have never actually been there before, despite living in the area for most of my life. My home of Fareham was very close to this south coast town, but it was never a place I visited, nor, if I am honest, ever wanted too.

    The journey across the water is brief, costing a hefty three pounds to travel from one side to the other. During the five minute journey, you get to see a few landmarks along the coast - The Spinnaker Tower, Royal Naval Dockyard and ships as well as buildings and businesses synonymous with the local economy. The trip is nothing spectacular, just a brief, fairly pleasant crossing, even when pouring with rain like yesterday.

    There are very few facilities in Gosport, just the usual selection of chain stores and charity shops. So while my Aunt went shopping, I sat in a local pub with my cousin Emmy and had a few beers. It's nice spending quality time with family, even if it is in Gosport. Chatting over a pint of Stella and a plate of chips was just what the Doctor ordered!

    By the time we caught the Ferry home, the rain had stopped and the sun was out, making for a more pleasurable journey. A little more shopping in Portsmouth (Think my Aunt has a shopping addiction,) a burger from Macdonalds and finally a relaxing evening in front of the TV, the first time I have been able to do that, during my week off!

    I'm back to work on Sunday, so am making the most of the next few days. I have agreed to work in the Newcome this evening for a Birthday party, but I am looking forward to doing absolutely nothing otherwise. Today I even managed to stay in bed to a quarter past seven; lucky me. The sun is shining, as I look out of the window and it looks like Friday will be a good one, weather wise. The only difficulty on the horizon, is phoning the vets this afternoon to get test results for Duchess. We all remain hopeful, although equally understand just how ill she is with this infection. Deep down we know what the outcome is likely to be!

    Have a great  weekend y'all!
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    Hurt Locker!

    richard-guy Work
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    It has been a week of thinking and evaluating. I find this important.

    It has been busy as I come to the end of my second week in my new role – some of it has been a bit of a baptism of fire but I love that – being thrown in at the deep end or it being tough. It helps me become a lot more resilient a lot quicker as well as adapting.
    I’m having to learn quickly and adapt even quicker. I’m in my absolute element when I do this.

    When I was delivering a workshop a few days ago I did question my ability as it was the first time I’d delivered this particular workshop and the material – I had a minor wobble. I went to the toilet and looked in the mirror and told myself I was delivering the workshop because I have the knowledge, the experience, the confidence, the skill to do so, and am the credible expert with the capability who got the role – wobble well and truly over.

    I’m in this role because I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone and because I want to see what I’m really capable of. So very few people do this today – they are so happy and content to stay in their comfort zones because it is cosy and safe.
    Not me. I don’t want a comfort zone at all – I want the hurt locker. I want to push myself – where is my limit? I don’t know but I want to find out.

    The hurt locker is the place where I truly excel – when I am finding things tough, when things are starting to overwhelm me, when I should probably throw the towel in and give up – that is when I dig deep and find that little bit more inside myself to carry and push even harder. I have many motivators that allow me to dig deep into my hurt locker. Past experiences that have placed me in tough or difficult circumstances and I’ve had to dig deep to get through them – I look back on those and think I got through that time or that situation so why not now.

    I look at those who doubted me or hurt me in the past – I look at the hurt they caused and yeah it was tough at the time and it may have knocked me down but it certainly didn’t knock me out. I look deep into my hurt locker and say to myself I’m better than you and I always will be. That hurt gave me strength and purpose and allowed me to push on more and further – those that hurt me are no longer in my life as I’ve left them way behind in so many aspects.

    My motivators allow me to say to myself what if I give that little bit more? What could I achieve if I pushed that little bit harder? What am I capable of if I look inside the hurt locker and dig deep?

    I was speaking to a colleague in work who I hadn’t seen for a while and she made an interesting comment (based around my relationships and how they have failed) and said I seemed to be a “real sh*t magnet”. To an extent I agreed. Then I thought about this in the greater context – yeah I’ve had some really horrible things happen in my life, I’ve experienced things that are not great, sometimes I’ve felt that I’ve suffered the consequences harder than I should have, and I’ve gone through some really tough situations as well. But that is life – one thing life is not – a fairy-tale. So maybe it isn’t just with relationships I seem to be a sh*t magnet but also in life at times – but that is life.

    Had I not gone through all those things I would not be the person I am today – someone who is determined, driven, dedicated, who won’t stay down when knocked down.
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    Trip Down Memory Lane!

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    Yesterday I had a trip down memory lane; I went to visit my parents at their home in Catisfield. It's been two weeks since I last saw them making it the ideal time for a catch up. Dad picked me up from Fareham railway station and we decided to take a detour on the way to see Mum, driving to my old childhood home, where I grew up forty seven years ago. I have been back since I left there in 1981, but only briefly, in passing. Yesterday we parked the car and had a walk around the area I once called home! Like so many times before, my past has become a great source of comfort during a particularly challenging time in my life.
    I have spoken about my childhood home before and written about my experiences in a number of short stories, but today I want to go into a little bit more detail, about a place that holds some very special memories for me. It is important that I spend my time in the UK as positively as possible, after all I have no idea how long I will be living here. Revisiting my youth, is all part of a process, rekindling bonds with family and places that I have ignored for far too long. Seeing the maisonette I grew up in, was just the tonic I needed to carry on pushing forwards while I am here.

    My parents moved into Nashe House in 1971, the year I was born. They were the first occupants of a newly built social housing estate on the outskirts of Fareham. The flat was modern, spacious and even had a garden for me to play in, it was the perfect home, after the birth of their first child.

    I remember this place with fondness. It was a five minute walk from my school in Tewkesbury Avenue and looked out over a huge, endless expanse of playing fields opposite. Going back yesterday, that particular view has been obscured, fenced off and surrounded by shrubs and bushes. The green gardens that used to be on our doorstep felt smaller than I remember and run down compared to the 1970s. I recognised my old home of course, but it didn't feel the same, it had turned into something different, something alien and a little bit tired.

    These maisonettes used to be council owned and were well kept and neatly looked after, painted in the same basic colours, sporting the same metal fencing outside and a shed for every apartment, just beyond the communal washing area, where we used to play as children. Today most of them have been bought by owner occupiers, their individuality visible as Father and I walked around the estate. Paneled fences, austere walls, trellis and a variety of contrasting windows and doors were proudly on display, showing the personality of those who lived inside. The uniformity of the local authority estate had been lost during the intervening years; Nashe house looked jumbled, confused and uncared for, despite now being privately owned.

    Nashe House and Hillson House opposite were a revolution in social housing during the early 1970s. Unlike other tower blocks of the era, these four story developments were built of brick, not concrete and were designed to sit sympathetically into the semi rural location it occupied in the Highlands area of Fareham. The spacious homes were designed for small families in mind and are twice as large as similar dwellings today. These were times of innovation in house building, modernity dictated design and although these places lacked character they did offer functional living for the baby boomer generation, rebuilding after the Second World War.
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    The most enduring aspect of growing up in this area was the community in which we lived. The photograph on the right is a picture of my Fathers old childhood home in Nashe Way, just a few yards around the corner from our flat. This was a larger family home and was one of six original houses built long before Nashe House. My parents had lived in this location all their lives, never moving more than a mile away from this neighbourhood. Even yesterday when I went back, the environment was as quiet as it used to be, just a few more cars parked on the side of the road, but essentially the same kind of atmosphere. This is in stark contrast to the Council estates in larger urban areas!
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    Just to the left hand side of our old flat there stood a row of old peoples bungalows, all part of this diverse neighbourhood. This is a photograph of Mrs Rogers house, the dear old lady I wrote about in 'Short Stories From My Youth' in an article entitled 'The Fence.' Mrs Rogers was a part of this local community that lived and worked together, looking out for one another; all of us getting on well. This model for modern living was the beginning of a change in attitudes towards different generations; divergent groups of people coexisting as one. There was no violence, crime or anti-social behaviour, just a friendly, welcoming climate of trust and reliance; neighbours leaving their doors open, kids playing outside and a future that looked rosy, compared to the problems of the past!
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    As a child growing up in the 1970s, I was always outside playing. In front of Mrs Rogers house was a small tree, probably just planted, today standing tall. This was the tree I buried 'my treasure' under to keep it safe. I would put my most prized possessions into Mothers tupperware boxes, dig a hole under this local landmark and hide them, covering them with dirt. Even today I squirrel items away, so I guess this was all part of my psyche, who I am and who I was destined to be.

    When I saw this  patch of green, I immediately recognised it and actually felt a little emotional. This area was a big part of my childhood and it wouldn't surprise me, if there is still a tiny plastic box buried just below this tree. It's memories like this that make me feel glad to be home, especially in my old stomping ground. There was something comforting about walking around the roads surrounding our old flat, something a tad nostalgic, triggering long forgotten feelings and memories of growing up around the family and friends I once held dear. Each of them were there with me on Tuesday, playing, laughing, fighting and running around, just as they did forty five years ago; my innocence returned as I made my pilgrimage home.
    A short one minute walk away, was the school I attended as a child. This complex has remained largely unchanged. The same buildings are in situ, the layout, as I remember, a monument to sixties architecture echoing the voices of children who walked through the school gates, during those first important years of education.

    I was philosophical, deep in thought, briefly looking around the old school buildings, remembering school assemblies, my old teacher Mrs Brooks, singing hymns in the hall, the playground beyond and school dinners, that I still enjoy making today. These were difficult years, but ones I still recall with happiness as I made my first tentative steps in the World. A place of learning has many stories to tell and this is where my narrative began. The name may well be different, but the substance is still the same, an institution that gently, calmly, encouraged me to play!
    This rather ordinary block of flats stands largely unchanged since the early 1970s. The Great Storm of 1987 ripped off the flat roofs, now replaced by a more traditional pitched affair. The decorative open walls separating each garden have gone replaced by stark brick barriers, dividing neighbours, who no longer speak, a sign of the end of community perhaps and the beginning of self identity, a progressive act deeply regressive in nature.  The neglected out buildings, car parking areas and communal grounds, nestle awkwardly between the buildings, paint peeling, wood rotting, a shadow of their former self!

    My early childhood memories living in Nashe House were positive, full of adventure, surrounded by children my own age. The experiences I had are often the catalyst for my writing; returning home to the place of my birth, gave me further food for thought. Revisiting the past is a calling I have to undertake, so much has happened in between and today I am looking for answers. Why did my life turn out the way it did? What could I have done to change my situation today? and what role, if any, did my childhood growing up in Fareham, have on my future direction? So much has happened  since I lived in this space, the blemishes of time clearly etched on its face, marks of a life all of us have led  navigating the streets we continue to tread!
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    Back To The Vets!

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    This morning I had to take Duchess back to the vets in Portsmouth, they wanted to give her another checkup and see if there had been an improvement in her health over the weekend. To be honest, Duchess is still fine in herself anyway, she isn't ill apart from the loss of sight.

    The vet took her temperature and looked into her eyes to see if there was any tail tail signs of damage or trauma that may have been caused, but she saw nothing. Talking to her, she suggested we carry on treating her for a virus and there was really very little else they can do. She has prescribed some antibiotic eye drops on top of the other medication she is also taking, in the hope she has a viral infection, rather than something more serious.

    We have been told Duchess can see an eye specialist but the costs involved are huge, with a consultation starting at a thousand pounds. So we have to decide what to do next, which isn't going to be easy. All the time she is eating and drinking, there isn't really a problem, so fingers crossed she doesn't deteriorate and continues to make positive progress!
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    Duchess!

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    Yesterday, I woke up at 6 am as usual to go to work; whilst heading towards the bathroom, bleary eyed, I noticed our cat Duchess, acting strangely. She was bumping into things and seemed to have a complete lack of co-ordination. Concerned, I picked her up to take a closer look and to my horror, I noticed both her eyes had a cloud like film across their surface, obscuring her vision. She looked rather dazed and confused and was extremely anxious, naturally I was shocked. The day before, she was fine and her usual feisty self, Saturday she was a completely different cat!

    I immediately woke up my Aunt and explained the situation; she like me was rather bemused by the whole thing and didn't understand what had happened during the night to cause such a terrible change in Duchess, including what seems to be a complete loss of sight.
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    While I was at work, Duchess was taken to the vets. After googling her symptoms on the internet, it was clear we had to get her assessed as soon as possible, time was important.

    From what I can gather, the vet was as perplexed as we were, not knowing what had happened, but began by carrying out a series of tests to try and establish the cause.

    All we know for certain, is she doesn't have Cat AIDS or Felv, that was ruled out within ten minutes of her arriving. In the interim she is being treated for an infection, which is all they can do over the weekend. She has been given a cause of antibiotics and we have to monitor her carefully, in case she becomes even more unwell than she is already. So far, she seems in relatively good spirits and is still eating and drinking as normal, although her eyes are getting more and more cloudy by the hour; all of us are at a loss as to what is really going on!

    This morning I have been speaking to specialists on line, chatting in forums and searching the symptoms that Duchess is currently suffering from. I always do this, though it really does no good and just causes more anxiety. I have become aware that white cats are more susceptible to sight and hearing problems, reading about similar cases where cats have gone blind over night. I also understand cats can live long healthy lives without sight but am mindful of any worst case scenario, including a tumour and other forms of cancer. For now we have to wait and keep our fingers crossed. She is a fighter and will do her best to get through this situation, whatever the eventual outcome I'm sure!
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