Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again, today. And the worst part is, there's no-one else to blame.

Sat in my room now, reflecting on the day.
Spent the best part of six hours drinking coffee and talking about my previous failed relationships.
I concluded that I'm obviously a difficult person to 'be with'.
She concluded that my experiences have made me the person I am today; over protective, guarded and difficult.

And then she told me to never give up.

The guy I like is married, He showed me the ring on his Thursday finger.

The girl who works in accounts doesn't seem to have any idea that the guy who works in the fleet department sleeps around on his wife. I think I heard him talking about tenth wedding anniversary plans. She seems to have no idea about him. Or maybe she chooses to ignore it. Either way, it makes me feel really sad to see it so close up.

On the second week I was there, I had the girl who works on reception wrapping her arms around me and sobbing her little heart out. A friend of hers was on a life support machine and that was the day they were turning it off.

Last week, the girl who works on the other reception desk was telling me about how she ended up throwing her husband of 25 years out. A guy came into work one day, sat down in front of her and proceeded to inform her that her husband was having an affair. Not with this guy's partner, but with the wife of a guy who works for him. And apparently, this guy said he told her not because of the moral reason, but because it was now affecting his work. And he held a very important role which simply couldn't be allowed to slip. So she confronted her husband, he admitted it, she kicked him out, he went to stay with his parents, then got a rented flat with this other girl he was having the affair with (who presumably got treated the same by her partner), split up with her after less than a month together, then she took him back in. Crazy.

They play stupid pranks at work. The latest I heard about today, was another department Manager complaining about having a horrible smell in his office for hours, and tracing it to an opened can of sardines in the depths of his drawer.

All the guys at work fancy the receptionist and the girl in accounts, except obviously her husband; the guy who works in fleet.

We can, and do, play any music we want in the showroom. The music all comes from a laptop in the office. I checked the folder the other day; it was reading over 60 Gig. Now that's a lot of music. It can be as random as hearing Frank Sinatra, followed by The Pussycat Dolls, followed by INXS, followed by Led Zeppelin, followed by Barbra Streisand, then killed off by those cheeky little monkeys from Glee. Which is a fabulous show!

I take my own Decaf coffee in, which I keep in my drawer. My desk is anally tidy. I have a small plant on my desk, which the others find amusing. The others are pretty shit. Well, ok, maybe that's a little harsh, but they seriously don't know how to earn themselves more money by putting in just a tiny bit more effort.

Lot's of quirky characters.
Kinda like it here.

Just close your eyes, and count to five. Let's craft the only thing we've known, into surprise.

Not very exciting at work today, but I left a couple of hours early and managed to do something I've been planning to for ages. I've had to be thorough, strategic and well planned.
Feeling bloody good tonight.

Also feels quite creepy being alone in the house tonight.

Chasing the dream, no I never pick up the pen. Always a show, but I like it when we pretend.

It feels weird thinking that this place is coming to an end, but it feels kind of natural.
Since I started blogging here, back in 2005, my journey has crossed paths with many, many wonderful fellow bloggers. Some still blog, although not as regularly as they once did. Many said their goodbyes in delightful ways, moving on with their lives. Some just....disappeared, without so much as a kiss my arse. And of course, some moved with the times and migrated to Facebook and/or Twitter.

I've crossed paths with some amazing people along the way. And whilst being adamant that I wanted to keep myself anonymous, politely refusing blog-meets and the like, I've met a handful of bloggers in 'real life'. Tonight feels like an appropriate time to reflect, and to cast out a shower of sincere "thank yous" to everybody who has touched my life in some way via someguyonajourney, even though sadly it will go unnoticed and unread by some simply wonderful people. So I shall just sit here pretending that somehow....they will know.

Buried beneath the ramblings, the rants, the raw and the ever present cryptic writing, lies a guy who just wanted to use this place to try to understand a little bit more about himself.

Clearly I remember, from the windows they were watching, while we froze down below.

Big Brother has come to an end.
After ten years of dedicated viewing, for me, summertime will never be the same again.

Over the years, I've felt a huge variety of emotions. I've chuckled, I've laughed, I've cried and cringed. I've been shocked, been flabbergasted, been frustrated and been angry. I've felt pleased, felt all warm and cuddly, felt grossed out and felt humble. All the emotional bases have been covered many, many times.
The hundreds of Housemates have provided hour upon hour of entertainment. They've been outrageous, rude, crude, angry, disgusting, vile, comical, funny, boring, camp, ridiculous, smarmy, creepy, bitchy, loving, stupid, silly, smart, clever, game-playing and so, so much more.

No other TV show has given me the chance to watch people do such a vast array of weird and wonderful, crazy and fucked-up, even boring and monotonous things. There's been kissing, fighting, punching, kicking, smooching, vomiting, dancing, fucking, discriminating, masturbating, shouting, screaming, spitting, threatening, bullying, flirting, flashing, tears, tantrums and an abundance of nakedness and nudity. It's been ten years of cocks, lady-gardens, tits and arse!

I've loved, loved, loved it.
I've learnt so much about people, about life, about living, about soooo many things.
It's been the most amazing, riveting, enjoyable and fucked-up roller coaster ride.

Of course, there's a possibility that another TV channel buys the rights to continue with the show, but in my eyes it will never be the same.
So, as with all good things, it has come to an end.

Thank you Big Brother.
Thank you for satisfying my obvious voyeuristic tendencies and providing me with hours and hours of brilliant entertainment.
And of course my summers wouldn't have been the same without the yummy Davina McCall. Love you Davina xx. Not forgetting kudos to George Lamb and of course the über sexy Dermot O'Leary. Shwing!

"Big Brother, you have been evicted. I'm coming to get you."

I never walked near the edge. Used to fear falling. I never swam far from shore. Never tried the secret door.

For the last ten days, my folks have been in America.
My Uncle has been suffering with a 'sore throat' since the back end of last year. At least, that's what we'd been led to believe. Several weeks ago, he went to see a doctor/specialist/consultant for said sore throat and hasn't been out of hospital since. In fact, most of the time he's been in intensive care, or whatever they call it in America.
He lives alone. His nearest family; his daughter, lives about forty miles away from him. She was diagnosed with lung cancer about three weeks before he went to see his doctor and has been receiving chemotherapy since.

Since news reached us that my Uncle was diagnosed with throat cancer, which was when a doctor phoned my Nan (listed as his next of kin) to ask permission to perform an operation on him, the house here has been in disarray. My Nan has been beside herself. My Mum has been desperately trying to speak to somebody in the hospital; a nurse, a doctor, a specialist, a consultant, who would give us some straight answers. Frustratingly, it's been a string of inconsistent information, ranging from; "He's doing much better", to "He's been in a coma since the doctors tried to put a tube down his throat", to "We think he'll be well enough to be discharged soon", to "It looks like he suffered a stroke or possibly a heart attack when he stopped breathing on the operating table", to "I'm sorry, we can't tell you anything because we don't know ourselves".

I've spoken to my Mum several times since she, my Dad and my Nan rushed over there ten days ago. They were hoping by now he would have been well enough to be back at his own house, receiving his treatment. Unfortunately, it's not the case.
His condition sounds advanced. He is weak. Each time the doctors plan to perform an operation; mostly to do with inserting tubes here, there and everywhere, his condition worsens. We're informed he is too weak to 'go on the table'. As a consequence, there are still some tests and 'things' the doctors need to do, but of course they wont until he is stable enough to have a fighting chance of coming out of the anesthetic.

A phone call from my Mum yesterday updated me with the latest on his condition. He has been much more stable the previous two days and the hospital staff are hopeful that he can be taken off the equipment that's helping him to breathe. Hopefully, with a more stable condition, they can continue with the tests, the tube insertions and finally start his treatment. Unless, of course, these test results say that treatment is pointless.

I'm going down, I don't want to change. I'm going down, going down the drain.

Don't keep asking me the same thing over and over and over.
Each time you ask, my answer loses more and more feeling.
And you can hear it in my voice. I know you can.
I begin to begrudge the question, whilst you begin to doubt my integrity.

Not only does it get us nowhere; it chips away, it pulls apart and begins to dissolve our relationship.

You're asking me to be something I'm not capable of.
Asking me to be a person I cannot be.
Don't want to be.

I am not what you're looking for.

Taking the second plan. Begging to understand. Life of a selfless man.

There's been some fantastic music around lately. I'm loving this years groove, so far.

Currently loving Bombay Bicycle Club; both albums, but the acoustic one in particular, Eliza Doolittle, Paloma Faith, The Foals, The xx (brilliant album), Arcade Fire, Mumford & Sons, Goldfrapp, Plan B, Katie Melua and still, still loving Biffy Clyro's latest.

Now your back's to the road. Waiting's everything you know. I'm sure know that I'm leaving.

She brushed his hand in bed that night, but she didn't mean it. If he'd have been awake, she would have apologized.
But there was never any need.
She'd already made up her mind.