It’s very hard to be happy, it’s easy to be sad, fed up of saying ‘I’ so I shall try not to. 

My soul was ready to move on when my ex extended the invitation to get back together, the door was always open, the love that was there never left. 

Grabbed it, with grubby childish icecream tainted paws. 

But now. I’m scared, how can I trust a man that threw me away or maybe the analogy is like picking up a dog shit, leaving on a tree and wanting to remind your self to ‘pick it up’ on the way back. That shit.

Is me.

Wait, not is all lost

My subconscious allowed this to happen. An orchestra of moments, maestro. No.

Or perhaps yes, perhaps the next bridge will come with a key change of life’s choosing. 

Or mine. I 



My eldest son dropped his contracted iPhone down the loo, his excuse was he wanted to watch other people playing a computer game on YouTube while having a wee and he forgot how big his pee wee was and dropped the phone.



Put in Aldi starchy brown rice

‘Do not touch it’

‘DO NOT touch it’

The wet phone,  not his epically large teenage phallus……apparently. 

I go to work, tired and highly likely to have been hungovered. 

I call home at 15.30 to check in. 

‘Hey babes, everything alright’

Mum, I think I’ve done something’

‘Tell me now…..Right now!’ I start packing up bag and turning off computer, younger son must be impaled on sofa with an Xbox…Wait, they wouldn’t hurt the Xbox. 

‘I heard that putting the phone in the microwave helped’

‘On, or just in’

‘On but it was only for a second’

‘You twat’ Yes, I called my 14 year old son a twat.

After asking if he understood how a microwave works…..He sobbed that he did but he was desperate for it to work and he listened to a mate, called Jack.

I have failed, as a parent 

A – I don’t even know how a fucking microwave works (that will be on sale from Japan soon I’m sure;) 

B- He isn’t scared of me enough to do as I say

C- He’s a numpty twat

Beautiful, clever, sharp, artistic 

But would probably agree to bareback a 50 year old seasoned Czech prostitute, pay her for it, and leave a tip…..And it won’t be to ‘Not eat yellow snow’

So tonight I taught him how to wash his face and tweezer his monobrow while singing Bob Marley and fielding questions on how to chat up girls.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing and maybe we both learnt valuable lessons…………..

Teenagers don’t know how to adult 

And neither do I 

But we will ‘micro’manage round it. 

Ping Ping

Knotted Cord

I’m starting to pick up life’s little matrix glitches, like, coincidence, there is a word for such a thing so it must be real……..

Then again we have words for ghosts, magic, souls, however none can be proven, but still it means enough to be used and in context and by many people over a lot of time.

So, why not, why can coincidence not be a coincidence but little pointers whether it’s the cosmic force or your own subblinally seeking mind eking out what you need without you realising it to be something real, why can’t we look for meanings in things that we hear and see, but without a religious net.

It happens to me, hell it probably happens to everyone but sometimes it’s strikingly obviously. 

Just last week I got in my car to go to work and a song came on – Utah Saints – ‘Something Good’….Great track, get into work and the sample of Kate Bush singing the same song but to a techno beat…Ok, then on my way home the original song came on the radio. 
What is the likelihood of that happening, so I took it as a sign, whether it was or not didn’t matter, something good was going to happen, why the fuck not.

What if we are all too busy with mediocre crap forced upon us to notice that the cosmos speaks to us, dreams, instincts, thoughts suppressed as blasé nonsense could be


Or nothing 

Or something, I prefer the something, but I’m scared of the something, it could mean that we aren’t masters of what we want but players allowed enough to hang or save ourselves. 

So I’ll rather a knotted cord then a noose any day 

Could be something good.