Rudimental - a smaller version!

As a comparison to my last post ...

Rudimental ft John Newman - Feel The Love (Album Sync Live HD ft Heritag...

This is a good example of the sort of orchestral cool modern music that I like:

A new start in life?

A New Start in Life?

Yesterday I was (rightly) ticked-off by my wife for talking publicly about a friend's private life and this bad habit comes about because of my inherent and almost compulsive habit of having to be "open" about everything - transparency rules! - But she had a point and I apologised.

Having said all that - here I go again ...

Again its been many months since I blogged and that's (this time) because I have been drowning in a family feud that manifests itself by the fact that none of us communicate any more. So no contact with anyone - not even our much loved grandchildren - let alone my three children or their husbands or wives.

Here we are at the end of the decade and having been in the depths of despair at this fiasco - I am just emerging, hoping to write again. Finger's crossed I can pull it off.

I say "a new start in life" because our situation is so bizarre now as to really constitute a new start. Most would say - maybe by nature, including me, that this new start is not an improvement but actually it may be, painful though it is.

It all started ...

You know when I indulge myself and open-up to friends a little and start to tell them how this all started - I see their looks of disbelief and what I see as incredulity at how any family could end up in this sad and sorry state. That annoys me! It annoys me that friends imply by their reaction that it is my fault. It's not - just because the ratio is high - it doesn't mean that the majority (the offspring & co lot) that take a negative stance are right - I'm right - yes I am.

All I wanted was an apology from my daughter - but I didn't get it - I got ostracisation. -And the surprising thing was how they all hung together - like a strong industrial union - including the only sprog that I thought I had a relationship with, Owen.

I could spend days typing out here what led up to me seeking an apology from my daughter Rebecca but it'd be a waste of time. That annoying saying "it is what it is" applies here too.

 Let's experiment!

So, I am going to try an experiment ...
... Instead of drowning in sorrow and making my wife's life a misery (and mine) I am going to accept what has happened. I am also going to not blame either myself or them. The latter will be very difficult - but truth be known - they are the product of their mother's (and her family's) influence - that I'd rather call her "brainwashing". Her (the ex-wife's) manipulation of the (now adult) children's minds was an intentional criminal act. I am not sure if it is "criminal" but if it isn't - it ought to be.

I have always tried to maintain contact with my children over the years - tried to be a good father although "apart" from their mother. Terrible fathers fare better than I do. It is ... very un-fair - but then I implied that I was going to stop moaning; so I will.

I have a burgeoning receptacle of creativity (my brain - even though at first I typed my brian ... life of maybe). Let it free again. That's what I say! I'm going to give my Brian a life (again).

I need to write again. I probably ought to learn to play that bloody stringed instrument too that I bought a strap for and a tuning app placed on my phone.

Kate Bush is inspiring me today (thanks to Chris - that's Christine). "Aerial" is the album.

More textual information (on the amazing album) here.

Hear (a nice) part of it here. At 5 minutes 30 seconds in is an amazing section with a flamenco guitar etc.!

Note that this has Rolf Harris on it (that was before his disgrace I think) and a later remastered version cut it out.

New year approaches. New year - new world.

If you want to have a good cry - don't hold back!

Well hello all!

It's been a long time ... over three and a half months in fact since my last blog post.

Why the gap when I was so prolific previously?

Simple; preoccupation with moving - well actually - not moving.

I say "not moving" as although we might like to move, we don't NEED to move and indeed although we are, as it were, 'open to offers' (that's coded language for on the market) nobody's interested.

Yes we went on the market two calendar months ago and no one is interested (not so far - and I have a hunch - not at all). That's all another story for another time.

So, what about the title of this brand new, out-of-the-blue blog [post] (which ain't as easy to say as to write)?

So why am I writing about people crying?

I am trying to highlight (as I approach a significant birthday at the end of this month) the importance of being able to express your emotions and indeed just plain expressing yourself  (never mind the emotions!) - this all compared to sweeping everything 'under the carpet'.

The latter is of course The British Way. The British are often portrayed as reserved and unemotional.
Over the years I have come to realise that, for example, my three grown-up children and indeed their mother (my ex-wife) are all good examples of The British Way - not wishing - or maybe incapable - (of 'taking the brake off' and) of expressing their emotions.

I, other the other hand, are the converse. Whether I want to or not I struggle to keep my emotions bound-up. In principle I happen to believe that expressing one's emotions (not at inappropriate times) is not only OK but is actually good for one. When I say "not at inappropriate times I mean if one was held by terrorists and they made a video - better not to cry - which would be interpreted negatively by all viewers. If one was The Prime Minister and making one's departure speech - possibly better not to cry (as she did) although it gave one a unique experience of empathy, even sympathy.

The thing that's prompted me to write this blog post is that a few days ago I was just coming out of a deep depression caused by an exchange with one of my two sons. Sadly and unjustly that depression affected my wife (who is also my lover, not meant necessarily in a sexual sense - moreso in terms of affection) very badly. If you love someone and you see them hurt and believe that that hurt was heartless and spiteful you're going to feel almost as upset as the one that was directly upset by events.

So, yes I know, you want to know what happened don't you? One reader will already know as that reader might be my son, Neal. This is not Facebook. I used to (about three to four years ago) be an avid Facebook user, that was until I started to see how it could be used so maliciously and how the proprietors failed totally to intervene, suggesting that their rule was to maintain so-called free speech. Anyway - so I came off (mostly as a result of my wife and I being vilified, totally unjustly on Facebook, sometimes by total strangers that had been incited by neighbours). - That too is another story for another time. So, in consequence my only kind of Facebook is this - my blog - my only public way of expressing myself without being blocked by anyone (as can be done on Facebook of course).

What happened?

My son is married to a girl whose parents live in Shrewsbury. I have only met those parents at the wedding of my son and daughter-in-law and they appear to be 'good upstanding people' (whatever that could be). So, I thought fairly reasonably, I asked my son (who spends a lot of time with his in-laws in Shrewsbury, the county town of Shropshire of course) if he knew of, or his in-laws knew of, any B & Bs that we could utilise as we wanted to explore (an area unknown to me) The Shropshire Hills AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty) as we half-fancied moving there (another story some time). My son at first said he might ask a friend who lived there (no mention of the in-laws) and then in a casual throw away line in a WhatsApp text said "isn't that what Trip Advisor is for?" - I'd already stated that obviously I could do self-research (as I am computer literate) but someone in the know is always helpful but he clearly wanted nothing to do with my request and expressed that dismissively at best and rudely and coldly at worst. It was the latter undoubtedly.

I am convinced that there is a hidden agenda here - much more going on than may be obvious to someone reading this or a casual observer. My son Neal, out of all three offspring has always had a problem with me (his 'distant dad'). He was approaching toddlerhood when his mother and I split-up, so he was the youngest child so I suppose he has a bit of an excuse for having no (or little) relationship with me. He was probably closer to his mother's live-in lover (partner I suppose I should say) who also left when he was, I think, approaching, or in, his teens - so he may have a distrust of anything resembling a father.

My son, Neal, wonderfully, became a dad himself recently and he has a delightful little daughter Orla and since her birth, Neal seemed to 'soften' a little towards me but every time I start to feel positive that things are improving with he and I relationship-wise, suddenly I get 'kicked in the teeth'. It may be a throw-away comment or what he classes as humour or actions that indicate not negativity but hate or that I am dispised. I see similar but not so extreme behaviour from his siblings from time to time and indeed from my ex-wife occasionally (whom I 'bump into' here and there at family gatherings).

So, to get more to the point ...

I told him that he offended me and he said I was too sensitive and I retorted that the perpetrator was insensitive and there has been no contact since (a week or so). I have also had 'run-ins' with my other son and my daughter over various matters and they share info and gang-up. Despite all this I have received Fathers' Day cards from all three offspring (and one from grandchildren too) and even a gift from my middle son, Owen. There was what could be deemed snide humour (from Neal's card) - even from Owen's (but not spiteful) if one could class it as humour from the words on it, but I rather like humour and can even take it when I am the butt of it - but not when designed to hurt. I am happy to join in the laughter but not to feel hurt whilst others laugh as that is spitefulness.

Thus, increasingly I am being forced to conclude that they (my offspring and the ex) are quite diametrically different from me (and my wife for that matter) in that they are under carpet sweepers and I and to a degree my wife are look at the dust people. Everything they do suggests this - avoiding what is at the heart of problems - issues, whereas I want to examine issues - head-on and resolve them or accept them as may be possible.

I cry at the drop of a hat, my wife less so and my blood relatives, it seems, not at all. I certainly had a cry about recent times. I don't hold back because I know that crying is good for you. They don't follow this. I read this article: Does crying actually make you feel good? I also read: Is being reserved such a bad thing?

I am going to have to accept that we're different and they don't understand me and I don't understand them. Sadly, I suspect ultimately that may mean separation and we and the grandchildren will undoubtedly miss each other and either way none of us lasts forever, but I do not expect that veiled 'threat' to carry any weight either (I wouldn't call it a threat - they would - it's a truism).

Happy Fathers' Day and Happy Special Birthday - I say to me - no one else gives a damn (oh except my wife of course - to whom I apologise for being such a misery of late).

I love you Jane. I love them too but I am but a speck to them. - A spot of dust under the carpet?

Would you pay a quid to listen to Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd and/or Cream?

I am always telling, particularly my southerner compatriots, that (loony) Lincolnshire has a good music scene.

When I was 18 years old, having left my South London family home, my life was so full on with unmentionable things that, rather annoyingly, I overlooked that for the princely sum of one pound I could have experienced such unknowns as ... The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Pink Floyd and Cream in a 'flowery' place called Spalding.

You know ... nothing's changed here in loony Lincs. Last night (Wednesday night 16th. Jan 2019) we went as we often do to the regular 'open mic' night at Old Nick's Tavern in Horncastle and we listened to around a dozen musicians ranging in age from around 25 to 85 and music as diverse as a spontaneous 5 man band formation (with as good a drummer as you'll ever hear being I would estimate, 70 odd years old, and a young (named Josh) guitarist

C'est la vie.

Potholes - are you as sick of them as me!

I live in rural Lincolnshire and I am sick to the back teeth of seeing (and being the driving victim of) potholes all over the county that I reside in. It is shameful and Lincolnshire County Council is almost literally getting away with murder by their lack of adequate and timely action in getting these dangerous road hazards fixed.

Have a look at this BBC website article.

What can one do about it?

The above question is going to be left open for contributors to answer over the next few, likely very cold (and therefore conducive to the creation of more potholes) months during this 2019 cold period.

Answers as contributed:

1. Report all potholes quickly and monitor the council's progress at fixing them (Tim's first response).

Boston Belle (another spontaneous poem).

There's more information about the Boston Belle and her trips out into The Wash and up the River Witham here.

BOSTON BELLE

by Tim J Rhohn-Sayers 

Autumn 2018

Today I was aboard the Boston Belle.

It wasn't exactly what I'd describe as hell.

- But it was definitely somewhat lacking

And the woman serving at the bar needed sacking!

You'll think, I suppose, I'm unkind.

- But I booked for relaxation and to unwind.

However, she made it stressful;

Her behaviour utterly inconducive to restful.

A challenge to get a bacon butty.

Anyone who did, seemed to be devouring incinerated putty!

Having asked at least thrice for one,

She gave so many excuses, I gave up on one ever being done.

Such was her poor service, disinterest and belligerence

That for bloody mindedness I decided to reward her ignorance

By sitting half-starved, such,

That I started to feel sea-sick just a touch.

On principle, no money for the boat's coffers

As she couldn't be bothered to serve or make offers.

This brings to an end my day on The Boston Belle.

Suffice to say, what a story I made sure to tell!

Just a little spontaneous poem written a while back.

My wife and I took (for the second time since living in Lincolnshire) a boat trip from Boston on The Boston Belle out into The Wash ...

Poem written during the return voyage from The Wash.

Untitled.

My boredom forced me to writing a poem

As we returned up the now calm River Witham.

The sun shone bright and the breeze blew good,

Even out in The Wash, no need to put up my hood.

Dreaming of a hearty club sandwich

At the Eastern European open air café

I hear the SOS message through the emergency bandwidth.

Will we need the life jackets?

Will we be on the cinema's news Pathé?

All calm again as heading to Boston

As I reflect on how much bacon butties add cost on.

Never again, I say.

Rather sit at home hearing horses neigh.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Nothing wrong with the pleasant voyage and the seals but one crew member left much to be desired in her manner and her food was almost inedible.

Some hometruths to start 2019

Good morning all (or any) ...

Noticed that both of us were awake here and there overnight. Not surprising really - lots on our minds - so I am up at half four, typing away (therapeutic). Our disposition was not helped by the film we three (including our guest) saw last night "The Favourite" - whatever you do - don't see it - unless you've eaten something bad over Christmas and new year and need to throw it up!

The film was disgusting and I never thought I, of all people, broad-minded as I know I am, would use those words about a film but disgusting is the right adjective.

Every conceivable swear word was used in the film including numerous times using the "C" word mostly used by women too. Every sexual act you could think of was portrayed in as disgusting a way as one could dream-up (well some might dream up). There was virtually no story or plot and even if one blotted out the disgusting nature of the film, the entire film could only be deemed about Queen Anne's relationship with two of her female servants - not much more. Some will no doubt call it "art" - I call it "gratuitous filth" - two words that I never thought I would use in my life.

So this post (with all of the above film info) must now be included in my reviews section too (and by the way - the cinema - or The Kinema as we locals call it) was packed to capacity.

 HOMETRUTHS: View looking south east from our land towards the fence erected by RDS and their land showing one of a few sycamore trees (on our land) that we had cut down to protect both our horses and RDS donkeys from danger from potential poisoning from sycamore tree seeds that can be deadly to all equines. You'd think RDS might be grateful - no they wanted me arrested for criminal damage. On the right side background of the photograph, on RDS land you can clearly see an old ash tree (that does have a preservation order on it) but that the donkeys have been allowed to eat all the bark off, thus the tree will eventually die. Equines, typically, will eat such things as bark when they are missing something in their diet. We protect our trees by having horse-safe electric fencing which gives a humane and safe shock if touched.

 

Hometruths

We are being hounded out of our village, Huttoft, by a few ghastly individuals who have axes to grind for whatever 'sad' reasons:

Here's a couple examples of what is going on around about:

• An Essex woman (no I am not naming names - just like those commenting on Facebook - don't - they just make sure that everyone knows who they are commenting on - namely me), an incomer, like me, also like me, having lived in the village for a number of years is offering to give a character reference for the "dick-head" (that'll be me) to the person that runs RDS who is also 'agin' me. The Essex person was also the person that revealed her breasts to me when she was drunk and her husband and my wife were chatting with their backs to us (she being a convicted drink driver who was 'intelligent' enough to drive her car home from a pub some 200 or so metres away one night a few years ago). She was undoubtedly 'grassed-up' by someone that night and I bet she thinks it was me but it wasn't, for the record. I expect it was the publican of the pub she was at - but who knows and who cares? - At least it may have saved a life. Both her and her husband used to drink drive all the time, choosing out of the way pubs and out of the way quiet rural roads and routes to avoid detection. One now wonders if he too has lost his licence as I see he is on a disability scooter in the village but perhaps the poor man has a disability. I wouldn't wish that scenario on my worst enemy and he is certainly not my worst enemy, despite his wife once saying to me, bizarrely, "you must really hate - we'll call him Fred - not his real name." I replied by saying, truthfully, that I have never hated anyone in my life - and indeed I am not sure that I would know how to do that and certainly life is not worth all that stress and negative energy to constantly be thinking about hating someone - ghastly thought.
• RDS (who is run by what we have established are 'crooks') has raised two separate hate campaigns against me, one two years ago, one recently, which is simmering currently as we await a reply from their solicitor. This has come about since we were falsely accused of "stealing" land from RDS. They have thirty acres, we three point five acres - that's quite a lot isn't it? So, we don't need to "steal" any - we have enough. This came about as we gave notice of tree work on poisonous sycamore trees (that can poison our horses and the RDS donkeys). We were willing to pay for remedial action, which we took, so they called the police to have me arrested for criminal damage to what they claimed were their trees on their land. Incorrect, of course and I still run free, unarrested. I, of course have photographs of the fence beyond the trees (i.e. showing the trees my side of the fence - the fence that RDS put up about two years ago themselves). So I paid for the helpful work to be done and I am the culprit allegedly. I wonder how many sycamore trees are on RDS land?
• We hear that apparently someone put out there that RDS is not open until April 2019 now because they assumed that they went away for several months to the Caribbean on the funds donated to the donkey sanctuary. Even I know that is a falsehood. The co-owner of RDS stated by reply, apparently, that she did not have a passport - probably quite true. The truth about what happens to all the funds will never be quite known I do not suppose but one does have eyes and all of the following have been seen to happen at RDS in the last few years:

1. New double glazing at their home.
2. New driveway laid at their home.
3. Giant tortoise garden pet acquired.
4. Large mock-antique customised van appeared at rear of drive advertising a local vet's practice. Seems to be there permanently.
5. Approximately 30 acres of new post and rail fencing erected.
6. Large mobile home acquired and positioned behind their house.
7. Very expensive highly-enriched haylage (rather than healthier hay) delivered regularly to RDS.
8. New Ifor Williams horse trailer on drive.
9. New-looking pick-up vehicle acquired.
10. Rough-looking van acquired.

That'll do for now - but there's more of course (like, we understand, an increasingly large collection of motor bikes being stored). The difficulty that they have is concealing and/or spending their donated funds - i.e. avoiding paying it into a bank as most businesses might normally have done.