I've been waiting for you, it's been so long. I knew just what I would do, when I heard your song.

This year, I shall be raising a glass of vino to the people we lost this year and taking a minute or two to think about the people less fortunate than ourselves.

Something mahoosive is happening tomorrow.
Merry Christmas x

Eighty Six Charlie, he came back. Said he'd been thinking it over. Says he's had a change of heart . He thinks he's made a grave mistake.

And just when I'm about to get all wrapped up in my own self-pity, wondering why things in my life are so complicated and tough, so barren and bare....something happens to slap me in the face and wake me up to all the other people's crap in the world.
And once again, I'm feeling lucky. In a way.

Earlier today, my ex-wife lost her step-dad. He was as close to a real dad to her and her sister as one could possibly get. She is from a very close family, so she's taking it hard, and she's so wrapped up in her mum's grief that she's probably not really had it properly sink in herself yet.
That's been terrible enough, but my kids have also lost their grandad. And it's been just awful....heartbreaking to see them trying to cope with the news.

Although we never really saw eye to eye, we got on with each other well enough to have shared the occasional evening together; several pints, a pool table and the two of us. He knows my biggest gripe with him was his drinking. Which, in time, developed into full blown alcoholism. We all thought the prognosis from his doctor would have been enough to scare the shit out of him, to show him a better way forward, to help him once and for all to see that he was slowly killing his body. It wasn't. When he was told he wouldn't survive a liver transplant operation, he knew....we all knew it was too late.
It was arranged that he spent the last of his days, weeks or months, however long, at home, with his family around him. And that's exactly how he spent his last breaths; with all of his loved ones by his bedside during his last few hours.
It's the way he wanted to die.
It's surely the way anybody would want to die.

RIP x

Are the details in the fabric? Are there things that make you panic? Are your thoughts results of static cling?

They pulled out at the last minute.
Seriously, fuck my life.

And in one little moment, it all implodes. This isn't everything you are. Breathe deeply in the silence, no sudden moves. This isn't everything you are.

Hearing at just after 9am on the day of completion that "something has slipped through the net" isn't the best kind of news.
It hasn't all fallen through. It's been delayed. By another week.
Yeah, no problem. Just unpack loads of essential day-to-day stuff, call all those companies up to reinstate services, beg with the removal company to hopefully reschedule for next week and not lose initial deposit paid, cancel the 'surprise' friends evening and hope people can still make it next week, etc etc.
Add to that, that neither of us can change the extra time off from our respective jobs, so if  it does happen next week, then it's going to be so much harder.
I should be used to shit like this.

You would call the garden rules out like commands. And we would all obey. But you'd stifle giddy laughter as you spoke. And puncture the pretend.

It feels very, very weird to think I have someone else moving in with me.
I don't feel precious about this house. My house. I'm not feeling guarded and protective about it. If anything, it's been a noose around my neck for many years now.
But I don't hate it. In fact, I love this place. It's a quiet road, I don't hear anything from the neighbours. In fact, the house adjoined to mine sold a good few months ago, and since then, there's been loads of workmen in banging, drilling, scraping, knocking and clumping around. So no connecting neighbours, which is good for the music....which is good for my soul.
It's convincingly roomy, with it's lovely loft-conversion, its open-plan ground floor and funky conservatory. The cats love it here, which is good news considering there's potentially another three joining them!
Yes, it's a great house.
And I really do feel completely comfortable thinking that there will be a time when I no longer think of it as my house. It would be our house.

I keep getting asked what happens when one of the 'house rules' gets broken.
How utter shit to think that I have any such 'house rules'.

All being well, it all kicks off tomorrow.

Will I turn my coat to the rain? I don't know. But I'm going somewhere I can warm my bones.

So, after Friday, I....I say I, but I mean me and the cats; Dexter and Dozy, will be joined by another person in the house. A real human being.

Totally scary.

After two weeks since the interview from hell, I've still heard nothing. The other guy who's also gone for the job hasn't heard anything either, nor has one other person we know got through to interviews.

Quite bizarre.

In the last four weeks, a few things have broken; the TV, my computer, the mouse a short time before that, the paper shredder, my mobile phone and the light switch in the garage. I've lost the installation disc for the wireless printer and I never installed it on this laptop, and of course I need to print stuff. Oh, and the fridge is making a peculiar sound. A sound that doesn't sound like a well working machine. It's a good job I haven't got a freezer or washing machine to konk out on me as well.

Slightly cursed at the moment.

And you should never cut your hair, 'cos I love the way you flick it off your shoulder.

It's your most defining moment.
It's where you want the initial focus. it's where you want the afterthought,
To linger.

Sweeping it away from your face.
It's where you want the very least focus, it's where you left your afterglow,
To falter.

It's obvious when you're rekindling that friendship.
With your confidence.
It's telling with your rags, your clips, your bands.
Growing your confidence.

Sure, all men are created equal. Here's the church, here's the steeple. Please stay tuned, cut to sequel. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.

I don't think I've ever felt such a lack of confidence after going for an interview.
The week before, I'd spent so much time preparing; researching the role, speaking to other people within the company who currently hold this position to get as much useful info as I could, reading through interview techniques, preparing strong answers to expected questions, getting my mind into the right positive frame, practising role play and presentation techniques, delving deeper into body language and improved delivery of speech, preparing questions to ask....
In the car on the way back, as the previous three hours spun round and round in my head....as my mind replayed that role play scenario, that assessment and those questions....all I could manage to say to myself was, "What a fucking dick!" or "I couldn't have fucked that up more even if I'd tried."

As I sat waiting to be called in for the interview/selection assessment, I felt pretty damned confident. I'd say a strong eight out of ten. Three hours later, as I walked back to the car before heading back, that confidence level had been kicked in the bollocks. Thinking to myself at that moment, I felt more like two out of ten was being very generous.
Needless to say, I'm not expecting to be invited to the next stage.

And you can tell the world that you're tired. But your excuses, they won't work. 'Cos I'll know that you're lying.

So, this afternoon, while I'm sat in a stuffy office telling my boss that I've applied for this (quite considerably out of my league) position, my mobile rings. I muted it and continued our conversation; we were at the part where he 'wished me good luck', whilst wearing a slight sneer. I got bleeped for a new voicemail; it was from the girl in HR where I'd sent my CV, asking me if I could contact her to arrange an interview day and time, her preference being next Monday.
What were the chance of that happening!

 I already know my boss will play a face about me wanting an extra day off next week.
This is gonna be interesting.

It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm, we can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable.

I applied for a new job today.
I've read through the job description and I'm totally confident that I could not only do the job, but do it well and really enjoy the challenge.
The job descriptions from the company I work for, are very detailed. The last page gives an over-view of the type of person they're looking for, then goes on to list current positions within the company where this new position would be considered a promotion. All those current positions are quite a way above my head as it is. And I think I might fall a little short on the experience they're looking for. But fuck it, I've applied anyway.

I misplaced your face in the shape of a smile, on a night that could never surprise me. Don't tell me you're afraid of the past, it's only the future that didn't last.

Another year older, and I still don't feel strong enough at times.
Isn't it supposed to get easier?!

I'm told, by my money grabbing solicitor, that my case should be over by the end of February. Blimey, it feels so far away. So, by the end of Feb, I will be free of this horrible noose around my neck. I'll know either way if it was all worth it.

And by the end of this month, I'll have a new housemate. Yes, somebody to sit with, in my terribly pathetic living room; with it's lack of wallpaper, carpet, lampshades, broken TV, broken PC, freezing along with me because we can't afford the heating bills. Lovely.
I expect we'll be sleeping together within twelve hours of her setting foot in the house. Considering she's my girlfriend, and all.

This place has been quiet.
My PC is indeed broken. And my laptop tends to randomly power down, making it very difficult to do anything. It's holding out so far, hence the blogging. And I've realised I've got loads I wanna get off my chest. I feel the need to vent some stuff, so as long as my laptop can hold out, I'll make a conscious effort to spill my thoughts. After all, it's gonna be much more difficult after the end of the month. She knows I blog, but she doesn't know where. And she's never asked me. Which I find nice.

This has be the worst year ever for me in terms of going to gigs. I saw Rihanna a few weeks ago. She nailed it! What's horrific, is that I think she's only my third gig this year. That's probably the worst it's been since I was fifteen.
Fuck!

See I could do without a tan, on my left hand, where my forth finger meets my knuckle. And I should run you a hot bath, and fill it up with bubbles.

My niece gets married on Sunday.
It's become a weird date, by coincidence.
9.10.11  12:00

My brother's daughter. My sad eyes have always seen her as the daughter I never had.
She seems to have a great connection with her guy, and I truly hope that getting married doesn't change any of that.
I have such a terrible opinion of marriage.

I've just noticed that I opened with "...gets married", instead of "....is getting married". Like I've presumed it will happen. As have all the other guests, I suppose.
It would be so cool if she did a runner.

Yeah, you make me feel, "do do doo". And I don't why.

For the umpteenth year, I bought tickets for VFestival.

Last week, I had to make a tough decision:
Do I go; which means having to buy most of my camping equipment again (since once again, I donated my tent, airbed and sleeping bags to charity) and having to find a lot of 'dollar'. All in all, I estimated £300 was about right.
Do I sell my tickets, because with everything else going on (specifically the very expensive court case), I simply don't have any spare money, never mind that sort of spare money.

In the end, it was looking at the line-up that sealed it. Thinking who I would and wouldn't wanna see. Sure, there are a few artists that gave me excited bubbles at the anticipation, but there are also a lot who just made me think, "Meh".

Over the next four days, I shall be partaking in a smoke (something I haven't done for a long time!) and  raising a glass to all the festival goers who are gonna have a fantastic weekend. Particularly some friends of ours, who thought they'd missed out on going this year because they couldn't get tickets. You will see some great live music, you will see some crazy things, you will experience something that is quite unique, and you will want to return again and again and again. I hope the weather stays fine for you all!

Only just getting to know you. Running the flag up to claim it. Acted like I was you saviour. The shepherd instead of the lamb.

Fucking things up seems to be my forte.
Although, I'm unbelievably critical and that in itself lends a nail in the coffin when perhaps it ain't necessarily so.

Well over two years has passed since I fucked my life up, and still it haunts me. Even though I don't ever think about the 'what ifs' or wish I could turn back time; because it has ultimately made me a better person, it doesn't stop me wondering why I couldn't have been better person back then.
I often feel shitty about the people I have hurt in the past, even though a lot of it felt completely out of my control.

I have a bottle of really nice red wine....and a shitty bottle of cheap lemonade. And that pretty much sums things up right now. The emphasis being on the shitty lemonade, not the alcohol.

You built this house with your hands, and your time, and your blood. You built this up in one day, to fall downward and rust.

It's D-Day today.
The third of August was the deadline the Judge gave The Lettings Agency, to submit their defence to my claim.
I'm expecting an email any day now from the money grabbing bastard of a Solicitor.

Once I can see what their defence case is, and after paying a ridiculous amount to my Solicitor for a 'consultation', I will then have to make a decision. The last Judge ruling was a big blow to me. I find myself stepping forward very cautiously now and my decision to fight on isn't feeling so positive anymore.
We'll see....

Been walking around with my eyes closed. Keeping away from your windows. Fearful eviction horizons. But you took my life in your hands.

I haven't given up on her.

In fact, I think I'm falling in love with her.

She believes in herself. She say it's because she believes in me. Whilst I'm not quite sure what she means, it's unbelievably touching.

"Oh, I just can't go through it again", she said. Nobody asked you to, darlin'. "I just can't pretend that I care". Well, whoever thought that you did?.

When I'm going through 'bad patches' in my life, I turn to one of things I can control; food.
Either restricting my food intake, or not eating at all gives me a sense of 'control' that nobody else can take away from me.
It's quite pathetic really. Not to mention stupid. But sometimes it's a necessary part of being me.

Show me some mercy. Show that you care. Show you got something to spare.

The courts are a scary place.
Once inside, a security guard motions for me to remove everything metallic and to empty my pockets into what looks like an ice-cream tub that's to the side of the scanner machine. Once through the other side, I took my mobile phone, about £2 in change, my keys and belt back and proceeded over to the list of hearings for the morning.
Up on the second floor; the open plan hallway stretched out with the 'not private at all' booths dotted along each side. The middle section housing chairs that remind me of a Doctors Surgery waiting area. Lo and behold, whilst sitting there reviewing my case with the money grabbing bastard of a solicitor, there were buzzers interrupting our flow of conversation. These buzzers indicating one of the twelve to fifteen rooms that each housed a Judge ruling over the various cases of the morning, was now vacant and ready for the next (victim) case. After a short while, I changed my mind about the similarities between a Doctor's Surgery and decided on a Cattle Market instead. Much more fitting.

My hearing was bought by the Lettings Agency that I'm trying to sue. Even though they had been well informed of my case against them; numerous opportunities to file a defence, make an out of court settlement offer, or even to just acknowledge the damn case, for reasons known only to themselves, they decided to bury their heads in the sand and to quietly ignore it, presumably hoping I was yanking their chain. Consequently, I pushed ahead, despite their silence, gained a court date for a hearing and because they didn't do bugger all the case was heard by a Judge in their absence and ruled in my favour.
Great! I had won the case!

Several days later, the money grabbing bastard of a solicitor informed me the the Lettings Agency had suddenly made themselves known and applied to the courts to have the ruling over-turned so they could defend their case.
They were past the deadline to apply for this by two clear days. We knew that; my solicitor and I. They must have known that. We are presuming they received the letter from the Courts informing them of the ruling, and perhaps panicked?! Trying their luck with an application to the Courts after the deadline date.

I was shitting myself, but felt fairly confident, even though the money grabbing bastard of a solicitor advised me that Judges can quite often be seen to be more, let's say lenient with small businesses. And not only that, but Judges can also be a little more forgiving when it comes to dealing with people who don't have legal representation and decide to represent themselves.

So, we get buzzed in; me, the money grabbing bastard of a solicitor and the owner (representing herself) of the Lettings agency, a small business.

It must have been my lucky day, because not five minutes into it the owner of the Lettings Agency apologized to me profusely for all my inconvenience, the extra debt I'd got into because I had been paying the mortgage myself each time the tenants didn't pay any rent, the stress it must have caused me, the distress and the horrible state the house was left in under their care. She promptly whipped out her cheque book and wrote me out a cheque for double the amount I was suing for and pleaded forgiveness from me. It was only when I glanced to my left and saw the money grabbing bastard of a solicitor ripping the Judge's blouse off, pushing her back into the leather bound chair and parting her legs in preparation of a 'right good seeing to down there' that I realized I day-dreaming.


After waiting in the Cattle Markets seating areas for over an hour, the ruling took less than ten minutes. Within the first five (after rustling through the documents in front of her and asking both parties a handful of questions), the Judge stated that the cut off date had quite clearly been missed by the Lettings Agency. Not only that, but they had provided absolutely no defence to my claim and when asked quite simple questions they either had no answer or "I'm not sure" as a comeback.
The final five minutes was choc full of legal jargon, the majority of which I didn't understand. What I could comprehend was the the Judge, in her infinite wisdom decided that even though the deadline had quite clearly passed, and the lettings agency had quite clearly not taken the claim seriously (lack of defence and no legal advice taken), the previous ruling in my favour was to be over-turned and the Lettings Agency have now been given three weeks to file a proper defence to the claim.

So, a major setback for me. And most likely now means this case will continue for at least another six to eight months before it's resolved.

Life is a funny fucker sometimes, huh?

L.i.f.e. g.o.e.s. o.n. You've got more than money and sense, my friend. You've got heart, and you're going your own way.

Off to the court hearing tomorrow morning.

Nervous?

Understatement!

What if I was wrong and you had never questioned it? What if it was true, that all we thought was right, was wrong? Simple math, the truth cannot be fractioned. I imply I've got to get it back then.

Trying to put my house back together is proving a very tiring and draining task; both mentally and financially.
Each time I begin sorting something out or fixing something up, another problem unfolds and gets added to the impossibly lengthy list.
I have to admit though, it's becoming more and more disheartening living here with absolutely minimal furniture, no carpets, no wallpaper, just one set of curtains, no lampshades, walls that are in need of re-plastering, a garden that's been completely wrecked, two completely empty bedrooms and one containing boxes of my things with nowhere to put them, a bathroom that's completely unusable, restricted access to the garage due to a broken door, a damaged front door, a broken conservatory door and this and that and more of the other. Not to mention I spend most nights wearing two or three tops because I can't afford to heat the place properly. And let's not forget the broken fridge that's mostly empty because I can only afford bare essentials.
But, I grin and bear it.
I grit my teeth and soldier on.

What's killing me is solicitor and court costs.

I have a date for a court hearing set for July 12th, when I will find out if the laws of this Country think I have a case against the Lettings Agency.