‘Its that time of the month…’

Well, I missed my twenty-second of the month deadline to update this blog; I was trying to keep it at this date right up until my Birthday, which is two months away – I am a June boy – however this is now ruined. I would have liked to have said something on the day of my Fortieth Birthday, my first day as a middle-aged adult, despite that fact that I feel, mentally at least, still in my twenties. I never lost my youth (although one could argue that I never grew up, and again there are merits in this argument as well, mainly because I was forced to grow up very fast at too young an age).

Here in the UK we have had, once again, very unseasonal weather; yes, it has been hot over the Easter break, but I believe as well as some articles I have been reading in our media, that it is too hot for this early in Spring. It is as hot as mid-summer and it is only late April. Global Warming, that such contentious issue, again rears its worrying head, or rather I should call it Climate Change. Whatever, and whoever you believe, something is wrong with our Eco-System, no doubt; have the years of intensive Industrialisation over the past two-hundred years, with the pollution thrown into our atmosphere damaged our planet to such an extent that it, or rather, has nature reacted against being poisoned? I believe that we must start to take a good look at what we are doing to our planet, where technology is leading us, what science has led us into and that the massive humanitarian disasters over the past two and a half years is none other than a big huge warning that we must change and become more respectful towards our planet and Mother Earth, to stop eating away at its resources.

My days do not change. My Father once told me that ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’. Maybe, as a youth, I never really took this in, but now I can see what this really means. I wake most mornings, early, usually feeling very ill from the previous nights alcohol intake, so this puts a damper on my mood for the whole day until I get that next bottle of wine to take the edge back off. And it is a vicious cycle, one that when you become trapped into its hazy, delirious grasp, becomes all the more difficult to focus on what needs to be done and to try and break free; it leads into a whirlpool of ruin, one where you try and grasp and hold onto bits of timber from the ruined vessel that you once proudly sailed, in the vain hope you can cling onto something that a long time past remembers you, that will stop you being dragged down into the black abyss of total ruin.

I read; if you read the right books or at least any book actually, it can do good things for your imagination, your soul, your sanity, your education. I have always from my early days been a book lover. I never forget my Mum reading to me as a boy and we had a living room in our house that was piled high with books on bookshelves my Dad created. I also had a family that were all book lovers as well as music lovers, so this really made an impression on me from an early age. I grew up loving learning about history, my best subject in school, reading Tolkien when I was in the first year of secondary education (the first book we ever read for English Lit was The Hobbit…captivated my imagination extensively), buying my first books from a school book club and so on. And these were all very, happy, loving years.

I approach my Fortieth Year. Two months remain until I hit that important event, that day in our lives that for most normal people is a milestone in our lives, a time that we start to look towards retirement, planning our pensions, being successful in our careers, seeing our children grow up and so on. Is this too idealistic? It is for me. Or rather over the past two years it has become so. I was headed towards this until my marriage went down into a sure, but probably predicted, demise. I do not want to go no more into this because my blog is full of it; if I were to go into this again I would start to become angry at what happened to me after living with my ex-wife for fifteen and half years. Fini – stopped – ended.

The grappling hook is thrown from the proud ship sailing, a ship heading toward that very dark whirlpool which is unavoidable; in a vain hope of trying to catch a something that will save it- an Albatross perhaps? But then would that same Albatross end up around your neck to also try and drag you down into the depths? Perhaps it already has and you don’t know it?

‘Water, water, my kingdom for some pure, spring, water…’

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