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    Take Risks, Challenge Convention!

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    Only a couple of weeks until I start my new role and to say I’m excited about the challenge ahead is somewhat of an understatement.

    I’m relishing the opportunity to be creative and think a lot outside the box – willing to take risks and challenge convention – but not just in the work but also my own development as a person.

    So far this year I’ve been looking at different aspects of my life and thought what does ‘much better’ look like and start aiming for that.

    Last week after I had my yearly appraisal I felt that in 7-8 years’ time I should be managing learning and development in a company or organisation – that is what ‘much better’ looks like and I am formulating a fluid and evolving plan to make that happen.

    In my training for the ultra-marathon I am not fixated on my finish time but am starting to look more and more closely at my training to see what ‘much better’ looks like – I currently run and do some core strength workouts. I’m looking at what other training I could be doing to improve my fitness, endurance, stamina, strength, and my mindset as well and am starting to challenge my normal conventional thinking and looking at other options for training as well.

    Even entering the ultra-marathon fits into the take risks and challenge convention way of thinking. I’m not placing limits on myself by entering such an event – if I was I’d be content with running 5ks on a Saturday morning or completing another marathon or triathlon. I’ve taken my thinking outside the box by entering the event.

    Dear reader I challenge you to look at one small area of your life and think what does ‘much better’ look like and how will it improve you as a person and how might it improve your life?
     
    Another aspect of my life I had to take a long hard look at last week was whether I was happy going out dating – the dates were ok, decent conversation but it felt like something was missing and there was something niggling in the back of my mind both times.

    I’ve always vowed never to go out with someone again if I’d split up with them. This evening I’m breaking my golden rule and am going out with the person I split up with last year.

    I’ve no idea what will happen. It seems like a good idea as we still care a lot about each other and still have strong feelings for each other. It didn’t work out last time but that doesn’t mean it won’t this time – we have both developed in our own ways and hopefully that will make a huge difference this time around – I don’t know. Rather than having that niggling in the back of my mind I’ll take a risk and challenge my usual conventional way of thinking.

    No matter what the outcome is at least I’ve not sat back, shied away and been left asking those ‘what if’ questions which I was always prone to do in the past. Maybe it was a lack of confidence that made me do that all the time or maybe it was being very rigid with my rules and not willing to step out of my comfort zone.
     
    One of the things with taking risk and challenging convention is mistakes are going to be made – this is a good thing though. In the past I tended to see mistakes linked with failure and if I made mistakes would I see myself as a failure. Seeing myself as a failure was hardly conducive to my mental health and it would drag me down.

    Making mistakes is part of a learning process, helps with improvement and helps someone to develop. It requires creative thinking, the ability to take stock and look at how things could be done differently. If we remain rigid in our thinking and approach this does not happen and we remain static.

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    Glasses, old age and NOT keeping fit!

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    Well I've finally had to give in to old age and get my eyes tested. I have known for a long time that I have a problem; nothing is in HD anymore, things are looking a bit hazy and I am having difficulty focusing. Today I collected my first pair  of  spectacles, a  throw  back to the 1950s....Apparently they are all the rage at the moment, well so the optician said. I don't think they look too bad, although add years on to me, just all a part of growing old, a fact  I absolutely hate!

    When you are in your twenties, you never really consider what it will be like as you grow older. Up until a few years ago, I did everything in my power to look and stay younger. Dying my hair and beard, trying to lose weight, plucking and preening, in fact anything I thought would 'do the job.' The reality is, we all get older and there is nothing we can do about it. The more we try and fight the aging process the more depressed and self conscious we become.

    Today I have stopped worrying about my own mortality. I am well aware of my age of course, but I am realistic about my life. I can not live forever, no matter what I do to try and prevent it. I see people going to the gym, keeping fit, eating the right stuff and I understand the importance of looking after myself, especially in middle age, but it isn't at the top of my list of priorities.

    Back home in Portsmouth I walk everywhere. With Darrell currently in Australia, it is the only way to get around. Most days I will walk an hour and a half or more, which is amazing for me. I am always on the go, constantly working, so eating healthy does take a back seat. I know I should make more of an effort, but what can I realistically buy to eat, that isn't going to add a few extra pounds in weight? Answers on a postcard please. My weight has stayed constant at fifteen stone six pounds for a few years now, not great for someone who is five foot ten, but a lot lower than I have been. I want to change my current attitude to life, fitness and achieving a healthy body weight, but as yet, do not have the motivation to do so. Maybe that will happen in time, until then I just have to continue travelling down my current path. Although not perfect, it is a start towards a more beneficial lifestyle.

    I am attending the 'Well Man Clinic' on a regular basis, having my blood pressure and cholesterol monitored and crucially have stopped smoking, all necessary for long term positive physical and mental health. I have accepted I will have to wear glasses permanently and have started to rebuild my life, after the difficulties of the past and my current family commitments. This is the first time in a longtime I am feeling pragmatic, productive and happy with where I am heading in life. A lot has happened over the last six months, long may it reign!
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  • Published on

    Community, Upbringing and Antisocial Behaviour!

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    A few weeks ago, while I was working in the pub, the landlady’s son came through the door with his mate. They had just been attacked by a group of lads, who were wondering the alleys in the less desirable area of Buckland, just over the road from where I am living at my Aunts in Fratton. The area isn’t particularly appealing, with a large block of brutalist architecture, overlooking the main dual carriageway into Portsmouth City centre and it isn’t a place I would choose to live. Having said that, is it right to tar all residents with the same brush? Is everyone that lives there rough, dragged up and generally without a moral compass? Buckland encompasses a large council estate, with many of the poorest people in this great naval city living there - a ghetto for the poor and a utopian idea that went wrong? Or a neighbourhood blighted by a few bad eggs, that suffers from neglect, but essentially has a community spirit, long since lost in other recent soulless, uninspiring developments?

    Despite being born in Portsmouth in 1971, I have never actually lived here. I grew up in and around the small village of Titchfield and essentially was sheltered from city life. As a family, we struggled like any other, but none of us really understood what real poverty was about. Mother was always at home to make my Brother and I a meal at lunch and dinner time and my Father worked hard in the same job for many years. As a family we lived within our means but always had enough money to get by. When I look back to those times I am proud of what my parents achieved for us. Both my Brother and I had a good standard of education, working hard at school and enjoyed a pretty comfortable childhood, away from the pressures of poverty, just a few miles down the road.

    Mother and Father instilled in both of us, the need to ‘make things last’ and reuse, recycle and hand down material items, not spending unnecessarily. Mum and Dad had the same television set for over twenty years, the sofa even longer, not replaced, but reupholstered when it had seen better days. My parents bought quality items, Gplan furniture, Axminster carpets and Parker Knoll three piece suites, knowing that they would last a generation or more. They saved hard for these things and never got into debt, unlike people today.

    Back in the 1970s people understood the value of money and didn’t waste their hard earned cash, equally they appreciated the importance of community and living with like minded individuals, who always looked after their own. As a child I would spend time in and out of neighbours houses, Lee Knight at number 4, Penny Pink at number 5 and Wall and Joan at number 8. If Mum and Dad were busy, doing the garden, cooking dinner or chatting with friends, we would spend time with those who lived close. I remember sat in Wally and Joan's house at the end of the row in Nashe house where we lived, positioned between them both, just like they were my Gran and Grandad. It was a Friday night and ‘It’s a Knockout’ was on the television. Mum and Dad were just a few doors away, finishing some decorating in the kitchen and you could hear Lee, Penny and Mia playing outside. Wall and Joan’s front porch was unlocked, as it always was; various neighbours popping their head round the door from time to time, saying hello and talking for a while, while I sat there oblivious to the big World outside and the difficulties other families were going through, just trying to survive.

    I lived on a Council Estate, just like Buckland, not as large or imposing, but social housing nevertheless. The flats were well kept and looked after, there was no violence, old sofas or fridge freezers left outside front doors, just a vibrant community, where everyone worked hard, striving for a better future. During the 1970s there was no real poverty like there is today, of course there probably was, I just didn’t notice it. There were no food banks, rubbish piled in the streets and abusive children, gangs and parents who never should have had kids in the first place. There were just decent families, occasional disagreements and a desire the help one another out when the need arose. Of course this is my view of life back then, the observations I made and recall today. No one really knows what goes on behind closed doors, but I can only speak about my own recollections.

    When one walks around Buckland, it is run down, terribly dilapidated and ramshackled. Gangs of youths, wearing hoodies roam the dark poorly lit roads at night and the area is blighted by graffiti, detritus and a lack of community spirit and I generally feel unsafe walking through the estate at any time of day. I must stress that I am not saying the people who live there are all bad, because the majority are not, but unlike when I grew up forty plus years ago, there is a significant majority who are making life hard for everyone else.

    Antisocial behaviour is the scourge of 2019. Since I left home in 1992, I have lived in some of the worst places in the World. St Mary’s in Southampton was equally as run down, with prostitutes on every corner and children running riot up and down the roads. In the flat I used to live in, there was always a drug addict in the entrance porch, needles littering the pavement outside and boarded up windows and doors, but I still felt safe and ignored most of what was happening around me. Even then there wasn’t the gangs of youths there are  today, a philosophy imported from the United States of America and this, combined with an influx of drugs and a knife culture out of control, all serves to make many city streets no go areas at night.

    Let me include a status I wrote on facebook last night:

    Walking home from the pub tonight, one could be forgiven for thinking every one under the sun, apart from me was stoned off their box:

    Mother of the year, pushing a screaming child around the back streets of Fratton, at 11.30 at night, arguing on her smart phone to what I can only assume was her boyfriend, though I could've been wrong, smoking a well Tailored spliff, flicking ash on the roof of the pram!

    ...A disabled gentleman in his wheelchair laughing loudly with his mate outside his house, can of craft cider in his hand, puffing away on a joint, taking about the benefits of cannabis...

    ... The smell of weed wafting out from the keebab house on the corner, as the staff enjoyed a few moments break from doing absolutely nothing…

    ... Even a big fat black bird, who should have been tucked up in his nest, mistakenly pecking away at the remains of half smoked reefer believing it to be something edible!

    It's only when you are sober that you notice these things...’


    This was a snapshot of life, as I left my place of work and headed home, after a night at the Newcome where I work; a typical evening in Fratton as I walked home after a quite Monday night shift. I wasn’t disgusted by what I saw, I was just rather sad. Drugs exist wherever you go and people will always take them, but this type of behaviour just adds to the run down nature of the communities in which we live today. In itself it isn’t a real issue and I don’t have a problem with anyone smoking a joint, but what does worry me, is the type of individuals who sell this stuff, engaging in illegal activity to fund a lifestyle that breeds contempt towards local residents, who just want to claim their neighbourhoods back. By all means have a smoke now and again if that is what you want, but the Government should regulate the market, as they do in Holland and other countries, keeping the streets safe for everyone to use.

    I am happy to once again be a part of a busy and thriving neighbourhood. This area does have its complications and shortcomings but as a rule people get on with one another. The pub in which I work is typical of all those who live here. A back street boozer, with an identity rich in character from the numerous personalities who drink in this local hub. Fratton is made up of many diverse people and represents Britain at large, a small example of modernity in these British Isles. In order to get back to a past that so many like me, look back too without regret and foreboding, we need to tackle problems of poverty, education and encourage equality and accountability. Once we remove the trash from the streets, we can all get back to doing what we do best, fighting for a future, fit for all!
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  • Published on

    Nostalgia!

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    I’m getting older; at 48 years old, I never truly believed I would make middle age. Yesterday I was 21 years old, over night I changed, grew older, got greyer, balder and started to recall memories I thought I had forgotten. Tonight I have just watched the ‘One Show,’ a rare thing for me; I don’t often get time to sit down and watch TV. In this topical magazine programme, they had a segment on ‘nostalgia,’ remembering the ‘good old days’ and looking back towards better times. Of course not all of the past was good, but as people we do tend to only remember the happy times and for me I look back with fondness at my childhood, in a way, I never thought I would!

    On Roaming Brit, I do write about my childhood experiences often in ‘Short Stories From My Youth,’ it is a part of my legacy, that I want to leave for family and friends to read. I have become far more aware of my own mortality in recent times, especially now, approaching my fifties and I do find myself looking back to the 1970s with special significance. Reflecting is a mechanism I use to feel at ease, comfortable and confident with my own sense of well-being. My happiness today is firmly built around my ability to recall events forty or more years ago, remembering what made me the person I am today.

    Everything was so much simpler when I was a wee lad; the days seemed longer, the family was bigger and I had more friends than I can remember. There were so many personalities in and out of my life, I just can’t recall all of them today. Everyone was an Uncle or Aunt, there were Cousins and neighbours, popping round for a cup of tea or a Harvey’s Bristol Cream and there were always visitors patting you on the head, rubbing your hair or kissing you on the cheek, leaving a trail of saliva in their wake. There were so many characters in fact that loneliness was never an option; just fun filed days exploring a brand new World of excitement, new experiences and places yet to explore!

    During the 1970s, I built friendships and relationships with others on a face to face basis, there was no social media or computers, smart phones or tablets, there was just good old fashioned talking or a phone box conversation at the end of the road, spending two pence to speak in secret with my friend in Abbey Field Drive. All of my peers lived a short distance away, spending time in and out of each others houses, enjoying the best of childhoods. None of us came from wealthy families, but we all had enough to get by. There were no designer clothes and expensive trainers, just home cut hair and hand me down clothes!

    These are the days I remember; much simpler, Christmas lights shining brighter, snow falling deeper, the sun shining brighter. These are the events that shaped my character, taking a trip down memory lane, harking back with thought and fervour, during trying and testing times. These were the special moments so important for me today, these were the beginnings of independence, during the best days of my life.

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  • Published on

    Bags of Help!

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    On Wednesday, I was filmed for the Tesco 'Bags of Help' campaign, highlighting the importance of giving each customer a blue token, every time the conclude their shop in store. Apparently I was chosen because of my love of selfies!

    The 'Bags of Help' campaign began in 2015 and Tesco has donated over 43 million pounds to over 10,000 community initiatives across England, Scotland and Wales. Money from carrier bag sales is used to fund local programmes in its 565 regions. Grants of one, two and four thousand pounds is distributed according to the amount of blue tokens collected for each project!

    As a champion of the good work charities do, I was delighted to be filmed by Portsmouth University and look forward to seeing the finished video. Anything we can do, to help our local neighbourhood, is important, to ensure we all live the lives we deserve. Thanks to Tesco, many local organisations can apply to obtain funds for their campaigns, working together to build a better future for all.

    If you wish to apply for funding, please click on the 'Tesco, Bags of Help' logo below!
  • Published on

    Mannequin!

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    I'm not sure what Jules and I were up to this week at Cancer Research, but we certainly had a good laugh, as we do every Monday.

    First and foremost I volunteer to help a charity close to my heart. With the death of my Aunty Carol last week from ovarian cancer, it is important for me now, more than ever, to keep doing my bit to make cancer history!
    On Monday Jules and I was asked to make up one of the many mannequin's we currently have in the shop, in order to sell them. An odd thing for customers to buy, I hear you ask, but you would be surprised at the interest shown. If you want to purchase one of the mannequins please don't hesitate to contact Zerina or Jo at the shop in Commercial Road, Portsmouth. You wont be disappointed, and should have hours of fun with your chosen model, just like I did, in a fun filled few hours, dressing 'Tania' for her public debut!

    Telephone Cancer Research on: 023 9282 3670
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