Mi Skool Daze (A storrie)

Autobiographical

This was originally written in response to a female I met online around 2003 she seemed very nice and was quite friendly  and came from somewhere like Moldavia or at least had a passport for that country.  I think she was resident in Romania, fairly slim build with dark brown hair. She liked to call me ‘Sweet thing.’ Though I guess this was more a standard greeting for anyone who might have had some money to spare. This was at the same time as I was in a loveless and often abusive relationship and despite the shaky quality of the webcam and its connection was perhaps a catalyst for getting out of it. I wrote all of the following during a lunch break at a dodgy bakery where they smothered Chocolate cakes in gravy browning and charged an arm and a leg for the things.

Woman I will try to express my inner feelings and thankfulness.

When writing a book you ought to consider 3 things: the beginning,the middle and the end. What the rules are for writing a letter I do not know. Obviously I have written plenty of letters in the past, however none of them were about how I felt or indeed how I feel.  this one I hope and feel will be the first of many, only time will tell.

When I first started out on the rocky path called life, I knew something had to be done. That I wanted to do something, quite what I did not know. But there was certainly something, I freely admit I made mistakes well who doesn’t? Yeah I made a few.  Looking back upon these things with an unblinkered eye and no obstruction in my way. I realise that these things were not all caused by my own fault. Rather through the influence of others and the environment from which I came.  Rather than nurturing and developing what talent there may have been, it was repressed and crushed till it was nigh visible. The teacher shouted, the pupil shrank. You are nothing, boy was the usual phrase heard at the school I went to.  They controlled your head through the classroom, you are hear to listen, boy!  Shut up. When that did not work, the  treatment became harsher:  Isolation as if you were dirty or infected. Then if the first was not harsh enough, there was physical punishment, for what? Laughing out loud was one of them, I mean what is wrong with laughing.  Is it a crime to smile and be happy?  Yes of course I broke the rules, Smoking behind the hall, pissing around like children do  and  for that you could expect trouble. But laughing?  They may as well have stopped us from breathing. Turned us into animated dummies, or is that what the educational system is designed to do. Creativity in the class room,  copy this  and draw that. Don’t even think of using your mind. (that might have been dangerous.) Mr. Crowley had a strange way of encouraging creativity in the craft lessons, mind you  he was nuts and threw knives at people.  Smashing up your work if you breathed out of turn, unintentionally  he alternately frightened the shit out of us or made us behave even worse.   Unfortunately those were his milder rages, I think he was just a frustrated angry old man  who had a best friend in his pipe of tobacco and his crafty stuff.  It was quite bizarre at times,   he would gather us around and start speaking about someone’s pot they had just created and  spoke about the curve of it, the shadow it threw.  This alternately could be put to a basket someone may have just weaved.  You get the picture? All it would take was  for someone to do something out of turn, lets say scratch their nose or perhaps yawn, then he would go of on one. Seizing whatever was at hand and pummelling said creative effort into the table top and I mean he would flatten it.    At the same time he would rave and shout that his father had been eaten by ants in the jungle for this, that and the other and apparently it was all our fault. The other favourite was I cycle all the way from Farnham to teach you bloody lot. Big deal, it  was only three miles.  As for the first accusation, I would love to have seen how he came to his conclusions. It is beyond me how he ever worked this one out and it is all very fine blaming the Ants. Still they had done what they had done and like I said it was our fault.  However Henry Crowley as was his name just appeared to be  an angry man with a pipe.

So apart from a mad craft teacher who threw knives. Some of us had an alcoholic house master, who found it funny to act the fool and keep us children amused. He organised games of forfeits when there was fuck all else to do for an evenings entertainment.   I had to dress up backwards by that I mean putting all my clothes on back to front. I must have looked a right muppet. Unfortunately the headmaster saw me in this state, it was at evening prayers. He was not amused, trying to explain away my position only dug the hole deeper and resulted in a sound beating for my efforts. I was lucky, someone else got to eat soap, he was farting bubbles that reeked of Carbolic for  a week afterwards. 

Talking about beatings and especially canings it was traditional to expose the injured body part (Always the backside) to the rest of the dormitory, for common inspection. Billy always said: “This is mild compared to what you will get out in the big wide world lad”. He was right, I have had to pay a fortune for every beating since, the Domme down the road is very strict about that. Billy would then make  you shake his hand, like you had done him a good service or something.

DOMINA

It wasn’t all that bad and some of it was actually quite good fun. We got to fool around in the woods and play war or something,  whatever it is that children do. Sometimes we even got to go to ‘Birdworld’ Though we only ever saw the fishes there and never the birds. Unless you included the penguins, so for us first and second years it became fish world.  I suspect it was like this because Pecker had a bird complex,   more on that later.  My pissed house master swam in the nude, ate his ear wax and was ming. The school secretary  found him having a swim one early morning when she was walking up through the school after parking her car.  So that must have been nice for her, I still remember her name and  as far as I remember she was  the only member of the school staff who never seemed to drop anyone in the shit.  Even the domestic staff would have a go at that and more often than not  succeed. 

RUSSALINA

Apart from a bit of editing this is pretty much what was written, with a couple of pages left to work through. Unfortunately my handwriting is somewhat appalling and makes me cringe and squint when trying to decipher the squiggles.

I hope to write some more of this soon, though from a point it will have nothing to do with the original letter that incidentally was never posted.

HiFi Hedges and Hyacinth’s

Uncategorized

Whilst the sun shines outside, I am compelled to read and to write on the Industrial decline in the late 19th century, compared to the bit about Empire, it is a little tedious, dealing more with figures than massacres and competition from foreigners more than foreigner bashing. Oh how this countries imperial past has faded. To be honest it was never particularly radiant to begin with, with most of our crowned heads having been despotic sociopathic idiots. Just like our elected politicians, who are dishonest at best and bloody liars at their worst. The trouble is people actually believe them, then vote for the wretches every four/five years, thinking stuff will change. Does a leopard change his spots? Neither does the government.

It is a howling gale outside today, but the sun is shining and that is good. It makes a vast improvement on yesterdays dam grey stuff. When the weather is nice, I like to get out and plant things, today it was the turn of the Hyacinths. I really want to plant those things from the greenhouse, I also want to chop back the hedge. I chopped some hedge and it started to rain and rather than get the electrics wet, I put everything away again. Gardening is an enjoyable activity at any time, the opportunities for creativity are almost boundless.

J has had a nagging migraine all day today and probably last night as well. I am lucky, I have never had one of these things. Whilst she has been resting up I have been writing my resumé and pulling the HiFi system out of the attic, the next task will be to start pulling out furniture, playing around with wires and cables and setting it all up. Hopefully I can eliminate the howl from the record deck this time.

Laters…

FRUIT FLIES AND FORM FILLING

Autobiographical, Uncategorized

So from the last time anything was written, I have applied for a new job and find it not very easy writing the 500 words about myself. In order to become even half way eligible to have a chance of finding prospective employment with this chosen employer. I do not like applying for work or writing about myself (Usually) I would rather be doing something else and today I have done largely bugger all. I think it must be the fruit flies, they are exerting a negative energy and slowing me up from doing anything, I just want them to fuck off and pester the neighbours instead. Them people to the right of my home will do. Life stresses are on the increase but will soon be on the decrease, I hope nerves and anxiety do not suit me, J is having the same issues but has her own ways of dealing with things. We are both keeping our fingers crossed and I am not bothering to tidy the house she is good like that and wants to do some homesteading. Home-brewing, candle making that kind of thing all good things to do in a time of a new potential lockdown, along with winning the lottery.

spiritual- divine -feminine- painting=-astrology-stretched -canvas

The painting is coming along but tails off when I have had a drink or two, it would seem paint and alcohol do not mix instead I sit down, relax and speak to the cat who ignores me. Let Friday’s reunion come quickly, swiftly and easily. I dare say there will be a lot more relaxing and less time for painting or painting at a different time, when the light is better and the brain is less fuddled. University is about to start again, happily I was smart and did a load of work in advance, which makes things all the sweeter. There will be more to do and I shall be starting again in a minute or five.

Waiting for the rain

Uncategorized

So for all those people who got their A level results today and are now crying and complaining that they did not get the Three As they felt so entitled to, wanted or ‘expected’ I have this much to say to you. “Shut up”

You have been lied too, you do not need to go to University. The system wants you to go to University. to work up colossal debt you have little or no chance of paying back and with an ever shrinking job market leaving you with ever decreasing chances of finding employment and a greater likelihood of not being able to pay back what you owe.

You do not need to go to university, A levels or qualifications to make a success of your life. Far better to possess decency, common sense, creativity and a desire to succeed, these four will see you get more satisfaction from life than a school load of qualifications. Spend a few years in the workplace and get some life experience under your belt, get drunk, fall in love and see some of the world before trying to be Brain of Britain. Employers prefer staff members with life experience who know how to wash behind their ears, qualifications provide none of that.

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Other matters now, these last days have been stupidly warm, happily we are due lots of cooling rain which will make things like a sauna instead of an oven. I may even go and do a bit of gardening later on, or maybe something else instead. The cats have each found their own methods of dealing with the weather one sits under an upturned pond liner and sleeps, another sprawls on the floor and sleeps and my queen? well she alternates between sleeping in the shade of the nut tree or being sprawled in the shade of the Fig tree. Sleeping. We can learn lots from cats and Nowness (that of being in the present) is perhaps the most important, the other is not having a reliance of Facebook or other social media to satisfy our needs. Take a few days off of these places and see how much easier your life becomes and how much you get done in terms of personal productivity. Think of FB as akin to Alcohol or some other soporific and you will begin to understand the effect it can have on the brain.

Your time on this planet is finite and your allotted portion passes quickly. Use it wisely to benefit yourself and those you care for, stop giving it people who do not care.

A TRUE STORY ABOUT GETTING DRUNK

Autobiographical, Uncategorized

This article is about Alcohol and the effects it has on the male teenage brain. It may get quite graphic so if you are of a sensitive disposition, please read on.

I only remember the beginning of this story and it’s subsequent aftermath. The bit in the middle was given to me by various third parties with whom I was at school with when it all happened.

My old school was a boarding school, a fine English public school (the sort where you pay to be educated) One of the perks we had was being allowed out of school bounds at weekends to go into the local town and socialise. In other words get drunk. It was around Mid October and an acquaintance  was celebrating his birthday and wanted to do something special to mark this happy day. It being a Saturday, and boring it was decided the best thing would be to go Midsomer N (The local town) and get drunk. Just like most weekends actually, Bath being the other option.  there were four of us the birthday boy who shall be referred to as B. A Spanish guy called M  and then there was C.  Another person declined, he said at the time he thought something awful would happen. He was right.

This is the point where the story becomes unclear. All I know we bought the drink and went out on top of the old slag heap. I remember a bottle of Coconut and Rum based drink in a white bottle. A bottle of nice Red I had pinched from my Dads wine cellar. I still have a morbid dislike of Coconut’s and their odour to this day. The Bottle of Red was Spanish and probably quite expensive. There would have been other drink as well. Most likely Whisky and Beer.

I do know we sang Happy Birthday as per tradition, we also sang it in French, though probably not very well. With writing My memories of this day seem to be coming back to me. Maybe there is a healing taking place here. I always recall C as being squeamish, it was not hard to make him gag and I do recall wanting to go toilet, I squatted behind a tree and probably used Pine needles. (gross, but necessary) The next bit? The turd was impaled on a stick and I chased my fellows around the summit of the heap. C went Green and gagged and the toilet got spread around a bit. I ought to mention here that my sense of humour can be somewhat inappropriate. Or at least used to be, it’s nice to think I have grown up a little bit since then.

I seem to recall some of the locals and their motorbike and C attempting to ride it. Something about loosing the clutch handle that rendered the thing useless and the owners being annoyed. This is what I recall and partly what was said to me later.

I do not remember running down the side of the heap and pulling a moony at a couple of Policemen. If you do not know what a moony is, it is the exposing of ones naked backside to some unsuspecting individuals or group of people. I guess choosing a pair of coppers was a bad idea. As was vomiting on their boots,  the same could be said for telling one or both of them to. “Fuck off Pork.” When they tried to pick me up.

According to the other witnesses the police wanted to take me in or at least back to the school, which being very noble and proper minded would probably have resulted in all sorts of bother. Anyway the offer was declined reasons being it would cause all manner of trouble, expulsions and that sort of thing. I would like to apologise at this point to A, M and C for the trouble this adventure must have caused. I have no idea how they got me home, but I did hear the  driver refused to take the unconscious, vomit covered public school boy, on his bus. So I guess they must have dragged/ carried me back ‘home.’ A distance of about 3 miles, it must have been nightmarish.