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4 Apr 2009
Post 118:A Slightly self indulgent look at the past
I wrote the bulk of this a few days back and since then I've been to a couple of brilliant things (symphonic Rock at the Royal Albert Hall courtesy of Selwyn and Jackie and to see one of my favourite comedians Mark Watson in a shed in Maidenhead I was taken by legendary friends, Steve and his lovely wife Naomi(known as Gnomes) and the Dugdale brothers (I know Will from University and used to play golf with him, His brother Chris is one of the worlds best Close Up magicians. People at my 32nd birthday will never forget his amazing tricks there, and seen lovely friends Rick and Becky Sanderson who are on a whistlestop visit from the states and to give you an idea how long its been I had never met their beautiful 3 year old Zoe. who rather sweetly gave me a Dandelion as a present. It was so good to see them. My friend Vicky Denning met her husband PJ at their amazing wedding in Maine in 2004,yes, this picture was taken from where we had the drinks afterwards on the actual evening, it's hard to imagine a more perfect setting, I was a miserable git for most of that trip because I had recently quit smoking! This got me looking back through some of my old photo's and somewhat self indulgently I might post a couple here.
Apologies to those with slow internet connections.
Well for a change I have some news to report. On the face of it it's good news but with my customary approach I have unfortunately had to let the bad news win the day. Typical. Starting with the good news. It has been a strugglathon without Av but I think I might have found someone to replace her. An early 50s South African Lady called Adrienne. She seems very nice and assures me she has no skeletons lurking in her closet. I don't think I'm a mug! Anyway she's starting on Wedensday 8th and I can't wait. In the meantime I've had some lovely visitors, Vicky Denning and her gorgeous 12 week old daughter Jemima. Now Vicky is like the sister my age I never had: She was my housemate in Oxford and then in London making me get my arse in gear to find and buy my flat when out of the blue she announced she was moving out because she had found herself a place to buy. This jolted me into action and I managed to pull my finger out with my Brixton place being the result. I had one too many parties and my clinically insane German neighbour Hildegard who oddly I miss, I don't think anyone in attendance will ever forget the time she stuck her head out of her window and shouted 'nein, nein, turn It down!'. I think we were probably each others nemesis! Mad as she was I was fond of the old girl. Despite the occasional loud party at silly times of the night, I became her blue eyed boy when I started at John Lewis because she had spent the best part of her career in the Oxford Street branch of John Lewis on the haberdashery stand. A bonkers coincidence because Haberdashery was one of the areas I was responsible for, you couldn't make this kind of coincidence up! I used to drop by and check she was ok from time to time and to mutter the odd apology or bribe her with a bottle of wine.. This approach worked far better than the nasty early confrontations we had. I hate to imagine what she initially thought of me! It doesn't bear thinking or caring about. To my knowledge she's still going strong (and loud and barking) and she was last heard of being the thorn in the side of my tenants! I loved living there despite it being in lovely Brixton. One of these days I hope to be independent enough to go back there but I don't imagine that'll be for years. Despite it being on the ground floor it is completely unsuitable for a wheelchair and Brixton is no place for anyone (I could just leave it at that) remotely disabled. I might as well get 'Easy Target' tatooed on my forehead, the local scum used to leave me well alone, It's funny how they give you a wide berth when you're 6'3”. I haven't seen anyone I'd describe as scum in Oxshott, apart from the odd Chelsea Footballer razzing it around in their latest Aston Martin! Apparently Oxshotts full of them because their training ground is just down the road in Cobham. This place literally couldn't be further removed from where I used to live, a contrast hilariously illustrated by my friend Jakes hilarious comment ' I was going through Oxshott station on the way to Guildford and stations with well watered hanging baskets and no vandalism always make me look up and take notice ( He's not gay BTW!) compare this to Brixton (where he also lived) where you're up to your eyeballs in used needles and crackpipes at the overground station, any hanging baskets would long ago have been nicked so that the local hoodlums could plant Marijuana in them (probably). So wheelchair use and serious disability may have got me more salubrious surroundings but it has come at an enormous physical price as well as being approximately ten years too early to trade in my dancing shoes for the metaphorical pipe & slippers. As you have probably guessed this quite upsets me during my many (and frequent) introspective moments. It's hard to imagine that my life is anything but over. I have very little left. I have lost everything, my job, my flat, the girl that I love, my independence, my Djing hobby, my golf handicap of 2,luckily, my friends have stayed loyal despite the fact that I often feel the stroke has taken most of me away. My aim in life now is to fall in love again and regain as much of my physical self as I can – I hope that's not asking too much. I really hope not.