Something I wrote, a few words, stuck my mind last evening. These words were ‘…nearly four decades old’. It caused me to ponder over my life for a while, whilst I was sat in my chair nursing a glass of wine with an open notepad and pen in front of me. I decided to write a few notes about my life, trying to summarise what I had experienced in each decade, or at least starting from the 1980’s, the most arguably important decade I had experienced. My life is quite unique in many ways and again I would argue that compared to most of my peers I spent those adolescent years with, it contained more hardship, trials and tribulations than any of my old school friends.
You see, during the mid 1980’s I lost my Mother to a long illness. I believe somewhere on my wordpress blog I wrote about this, so there is no need to retrace old ground and besides it is too upsetting; my memories are sacred of those early years. However, three years later when I was at the tender young age of seventeen my family probably could not deal with my rebellious attitude caused as a symbol of discontent from the total rupture of my life due to my Mother passing, and so, probably for wrong reasons and because we were all pretty distraught, I ended up leaving home. I spent my most important formative years growing up in bedsit-land and it was only when I reached nineteen that I started to form proper friendships, work for a good company and experience a degree of happiness that I never have experienced again since the age of twenty one onwards. That is a long time, no? They say the brightest light burns brightest but goes out quickest, and this I can relate to because I never ever was happier in my whole forty years than when I was dating, fucking good Women, working and having friends that back then I believed I could trust in for those brief two bright years, years for me which were an awakening that I have never ever experienced since.
If I could turn back time, if I could have the opportunity to speak to myself when I was twenty years old, if I could listen to my old young thoughts and try and influence him, if I could make HG Wells’ Time Machine and turn the date back to 1992, then I would. I would probably then kidnap him.