1000 miles that I won't forget

I've just arrived home after a week away to realise that
1) I forgot to put the bin out (stinky) and
2) I've clocked up almost 1000 miles in my trusty Citroen C5 since Monday.

That seems a lot...and it felt like it too!  The passenger side footwell of the car is currently piled high with empty Costa cups, Rizla packets and various fast food bags and I've yet to air it out to get rid of that "guy in heavy jeans, stuck in standstill traffic in a hot car, sweating his nuts off" smell, but I'm home now, sitting on the sofa with a homemade cup of coffee on the table; it's calm, relaxed...and a moment for me to reflect on my motorway cruise.

It felt awful at times.  Cramped up and hot, sometimes slow, sometimes busy and fast as I jostled about from lane to lane, hurling insults at my sat nav for instructing me incorrectly.  But, the bits that stick out about the whole week are the times when some little things broke the monotony, made me smile or set a wonderful train of thought in motion to keep my mind occupied for the next 20 miles.  Things that made the journey more enjoyable and, even, worthwhile for its own sake.  I thought I'd jot them down. 

Lovely, interesting, cool things I noticed while on the road

• A fairly young couple bombing along in the fast lane.  While he sat in the drivers seat, drumming on the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the loud music they had on, she sat in the passenger seat, a broad and beautiful smile across her face as the sun gleamed off her Ray Bans...and then they both launched into the chorus of the song with full gusto and humoured commitment to hitting the notes..both laughing and at ease with how "cringe" that movie moment actually was.  

• A guy (honestly) knuckle deep into his nose as we plodded along through another motorway hold up. Buddy, I've got nothing better to do than watch you, but don't let that put you off.  

• A swarm (swarm?) of military aircraft passing overhead; low, slow and glorious.  It was a bunch of helicopters and a couple of plane things with copter-ish rotator blade thingumajigs on each wing.  Even Google hasn't helped me find out what they were, I don't know.  But it was fascinating.  What a different sort of day they were having in the sky; an every day thing for them, but great to watch from the ground. 

• A bored lad, not 10 years old.  Head against the window.  He offered me a lazy wave, he returned my smile...and then promptly told on me when I poked my tongue out at him.  ...I put my foot down after that.  Aaawkwaaaaard!

• The lone guy completely oblivious to anyone as he sang along to music...the pain of the note showing on his face, but he was enjoying it.   Glad the window was shut, though.  It didn't look like he made it. 

• A guy driving along in a pick-up truck, where, in the back, was a huge carving of an eagle coming to land on a piece of wood, its magnificent wings spreading, I'm sure, 6 feet.  It looked awesome.  An amazing piece of work.

• An old man, in some old and casual suit jacket, a hat with his white hair escaping out the bottom...and he sat there in the traffic...smoking a pipe.  Just didn't expect it.  

Now, all of these things...and there were more...don't seem incredibly exciting in themselves, I know that!  Maybe it says something about how utterly tedious our motorways are (especially with the constant roadworks, delays and utterly pointless variable speed limits), that I would be bored enough to even notice some of these things or even find them fascinating.  But, on the other hand, I guess it's a little metaphor for life (not to sound too much like J.D. from Scrubs); it may be a long road, pretty grey and unexciting, perhaps busier and slower than we'd like, but look around!  There are people on the journey with you...you may not know them but you can gain a glimpse into their lives, wonder on their story, gain insight into their passions, be inspired by hobbies they have stacked on the roof.  I saw a huge wooden eagle and wondered how it was made, for what purpose and where it was going...what people would make of it there!  I saw a couple filling their journey with music and laughter and fun foolishness, whether they're lovers or not I don't know, but they had an intimacy and it was fresh and reminded me how great that is.  And I saw what people do when they think no one can see, like trying to hit that high note or plunging their entire finger into their beak and rooting around for their 'brain'...I guess, from that, I learned that we all bloody do it when no one's about.  ...don't we?  

For the most part, each mile may be grey and organised into lanes and monotonous order...but take a peek out the window and there is so much life, so many smiles and many inspiring things to see in the people around us...and if it looks like they're enjoying the journey more than we are then it's pretty simple to ask ourselves, "what's their secret?" 

1000 miles that I won't forget.  

  

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Do Tell: 

Have you ever observed something that's changed you? 
Have you been inspired by someone simply living their own life?

A rule for parenting: Be there!

I know there isn't actually a rule book for parenting.  It does seem to be a 'learn as you go' experience in many ways, which often seems influenced by culture and class, and perhaps even by our own upbringing serving as a 'what not to do' guide.  Quite often, unless there are examples of extreme neglect or danger, we find we have no place to advise others on 'better parenting' and have to accept that they have a right to raise their children as they see fit, even if we do see a 5 year old screaming in the shopping aisle, yelling for sweets and being given a Drumstick lolly for their efforts...as if that's not conditioning behaviour and reinforcement. Still, some parents could bubble wrap their children in the park and still find themselves yelling 'Be careful!  Come down!" as little Bob ventures higher than a foot and a half, while other parents sit and read a magazine while their children forget the park is even there and play in the surrounding trees.  I guess it's all up for debate, but yesterday I experienced one of those moments as a parent where I knew through and through what to do...and what not to.  Why do I bring this up?  What has compelled me to sit at my laptop and splurge on my (pitifully) rarely updated blog?  In short, it's that if there was a parenting rule book and this rule wasn't yet in it, I would overturn tables and unashamedly campaign for it to be in the top 5, because if it somehow offends some parent somewhere to be challenged on this point, then I'm not going to be all respectful and British about it: they can put their reproductive organs in some blending device and feed them to the family dog...because they just shouldn't use them for anything else.

Parenting rule:
Do -- Hold your wounded child's hand, stay in the room and be the calm reassurance that's needed for the poor little soul.
Don't -- Squeal 'Oh my God' as the doctor stabs a needle into your child's open flesh, give the busy nursing staff a dramatic insight into your squeamish past experiences because it highlights how awful this moment is for you (are you trying to earn a sticker?), and most of all, don't leave the room (and your child) and stand outside the door weeping, claiming it's just too painful to see your child so distressed.

It's rather unfortunate, really, that I feel the need to staple this into the imaginary library copy of this make-believe handbook, but I've quite honestly witnessed enough of this over a decade of fatherhood to know that some parents need to be stopped in the middle of another piteous and attention seeking sentence and turned back toward the distressed screams of their child, because 'suck it up; however challenging this may genuinely be to your sensibilities or whatever attention and drama you may be able to smear across your life's story comes second to simply being there.'

It's not for recognition that I mention all this, but it's simply that I have felt myself angered on occasion and wanting to challenge that aspect in friends who tell me of their dramatic 'walk outs' because they were so emotionally moved, or of strangers I've stood alongside in hospital who I've witnessed do the same.  So, I'm sorry, but if you're reading this and you've previously told me of a time when you left your child wounded and surrounded by strangers as they prodded him with medical instruments, because you had a 'moment in your own life's movie' where the piano music and strings were more audible than the kerfuffle of doctors and your crying child, the lens looked past the youngun crying out for it to stop and focussed on your distressed face, cut scene to the exit which you suddenly bash through in an effort to escape the trauma, gut-wrenching sob....FREEZE. Reeeeewind.  Yes, I judged you for that story.  Sorry.  For me, it's kind of the same as watching a dog get a wallop for...being a dog.  I won't moan at you for how you train, or don't train your dog...but don't smack it!  Same goes with parenting; let them climb trees, choose your method of control and discipline, but most of all, be there when you are the only source of strength, comfort and reassurance.

Now, I do say all this with a degree of experience.  I'm a dad of four.  My eldest is 10 and she underwent a lot of treatment as a baby as she was extremely ill.  But, I remember the first night in hospital, as the doctors poked and prodded her little 8 week old body as they tried to figure out why she might not make it through the night (it turned out to be leukaemia).  It was at this point that the doctors and nurses insisted we leave and shoved us out the door because the 'distress to us' for seeing her get folded in two to have a lumbar puncture performed would be too much to take.  On that occasion, we were bewildered by the formality of the hospital and didn't feel we could stay.  Our inexperience meant that we did what the doctor said...but that was the last time we allowed ourselves to be put out of the room for 'our sake', because as we stood in the hall, listening to her scream from in the middle of a mob of doctors, she should have....should have known we were at least in the room.

Yesterday my 6 year old boy, Finley, decided to throw himself off a wall and head butt the floor.  I can't say I approve of that sort of violence, but the floor turned out to be fine after the attack and Finley came off much worse, running into the house with a stream of blood down his face, his forehead open like a flower to the sun and his best friend yelling "we can see Finley's brain!!"

This is where, I have to say, I did what I think all parents should do.  I know emotions play the part and extreme concern of a parent is, of course, where the love is.  At once I had a tsunami of emotions hit me, but this wasn't about me.  Our wounded children don't need to see our concern in our panic, our drama or in any hype of how bad this injury may be!  They need calm, optimism, lots of reassurance...and for mum or dad to gaffa tape the mouth of whoever's yelling about brains seeping out of heads!  I calmed him down, got him sitting comfortably, arranged care for my three girls and got Finley to hospital, making sure he was laughing at stories of how brave he is because I used to bawl like a baby at his age -which I actually did.

Anyway, I mention all of this because there was one particular moment during that whole incident which caused me to reflect on Isabelle's treatment as a baby and our need as parents to suck it up and be there amongst the strangers in the room.  Finley lay on the hospital bed with his eyes closed as the doctor poked and prodded at his flesh; it seemed, at times, that he lost swabs of tissue inside my boy's head as he performed a deep clean of the wound, and I'm sure at one point I heard him mutter, 'bugger...my keys'.  ...and then came the toothbrush!   It was that point where if I had any choice whatsoever, I'd have chosen not to be there.  I felt a little light and a little tingly and suddenly didn't feel like eating anything resembling cheese and tomato sauce.  I also realised that while I stood there holding Finley's hand, it was me that was squeezing tight with the anxiety of the procedure...and trying not to 'vom'.  The important moment, though, was when, for just a second, he opened his eyes and looked straight into mine; I don't know what my face must have looked like before he saw me; probably something akin to Edvard Munch's 'The Scream', but all he saw was that I had time to give him a big smile and a quick wink.

I know I was blagging that smile and I know that the wink was some pitifully helpless gesture of reassurance, but I guess his interpretation of that was:
Dad's face = Dad's there
Dad's smile = Everything seems okay, he ain't sobbing or anything!
Dad's wink = I'm still a little dude and he may tickle me.

I will just mention that, full credit to her, had Finley's mum been the one there at the time of the accident, he'd have seen her face.

I don't judge many people for many things.  I often disagree with some parenting techniques, or lack thereof, but on the whole it's something I pass by and won't challenge.  Let your children play in the trees, or don't!  Let them whizz around on their bikes, or don't!  It really is up to you, of course, and I don't consider that my business.  I'm, actually, often very moved as I walk through the street or through shops when I see so much evident love between parents and children and I don't, by any means, think I'm the most achieved and best parent out there.  But, I will say that accidents happen...and it's our job to be there if they open their eyes..and our job to be heard if they keep their eyes closed and grimace with the pain.

As for Finley, if you're curious, he's fine.  The wound was quite deep on his forehead so he may have lost the ability to raise his right eyebrow a bit and he's left with an H shaped scar on his forehead (yes, a bit like Harry Potter...heard that three times already!).  If can't do a 'shock horror' expression any longer, I guess there goes any career in the theatre, but he does have a mean scar on his forehead and will return to school with the story already told that Jamie could see his brain.  He has the scars and the legendary injury, I'll have to get him some mean tattoos for his seventh birthday.

What have you had to deal with as a parent? 

How do you handle your child's injuries and illnesses?

Make an ex an actual ex, for Heaven's sake! ...or at least your partner's!

Once upon a time..and I'm only speaking pre-2004 when Facebook came screeching around the corner and roared into our lives..we used to live in a world with clearer boundaries than we now know. We live in a world where our personal and professional lives are often muddied and thrown into one "profile pot". Our bosses are privy to the photos of our day at the beach with the children. We can nosey into their family Christmas albums. We have a thousand "friends" that we never speak to or think of, unless there is a photo or indignant status update that we can "Like"..not so much to communicate with said friend or show support, but more to make a statement about one's own thoughts on the matter, or even to make a point to someone else. Like a pinball bouncing around the machine igniting lights and emitting sirens here, there and everywhere, our attention, interaction with and exposure to the past, present, professional and personal is one crazy, unstoppable and unbridled mess. So I can't help but ponder and wonder. Work used to be a workplace. Our personal lives used to be personal. Each existed, most often, in their own space. Friends were the people you actually approached face to face and asked if they'd like to get a drink after work or go and see a movie. The past was left in the past as we moved on from relationships, communities or workplaces, perhaps keeping in touch with a few from each with whom we would exchange numbers and actually phone and talk to. I miss those boundaries. I think what we're left with is a diluted idea of the different roles in our lives and who we are to other people.

I remember as a boy, as I chewed on a Curly Wurly and wished I was permitted to walk nearer the curb on the pavement, my parents would erupt into sudden greetings with mutually delighted people -that I had never met. People from their past. Everyone's eyes were bright. Big smiles and excited, loud and cheerful voices would bellow a thousand questions and muddled answers, as well as the typical statement "Fancy seeing you here!!!". At some point, all of the involved party would cast their gaze down upon me as I gasped through a suicidal amount of Curly Wurly chocolate (didn't it always seem right to push the entire last half of the bar into the mouth?) and tried to smile as my mother would announce "Yes, this is Chris. Getting big now!". This was, unfortunately, a relative term, as among my own age group I was called "Lebrechaun", for a reason; I was tiny and also did magic tricks, I don't know. Now, I am not advocating going back to the "old days" like some nostalgic old man at the end of the bar talking about how it used to be. The car -even a Smart one- is better than horse and cart. Flares and chest hair with medallions are in the past, and that's a good thing. I do miss Gladiators, though.

These days (and I'm afraid I'll have to make that reference often from here on out, hopefully without sounding like the previously referenced old man at the bar), we have social media. For the most part, we're never off the radar of our past. The people we once knew, worked with, met at a conference are bopping up on our newsfeeds, mostly ignored..but there all the same. Of course, everyone handles this differently. Yes, social media is a great way to keep in touch with those friends or family members who gallivant around the world, or who have simply moved away. But then, there's nothing more personal and meaningful than saying to someone "This is where you can reach me, I'd love to stay in touch", rather than the opportunistic nature of favouriting a tweet once in a while. I do think of my nephew in Australia who took the time, recently, to phone the house just for a catch up. It meant so much more than a timely Facebook conversation, staggered over the two of us doing other activities around our laptops, waiting for the other to respond. Time was made for one another. It meant more and was a real human to human experience, which is something that I feel is diluted and dulled in our current social habits. Still, the main point I wanted to raise was regarding the way in which we decide who featured in our past and will stay there...and who we keep in our 'present'..and why.

Before social media such as the big F and Twitter became embedded in almost every aspect of our lives, if we found ourselves venturing into a new romantic relationship, we needed only to throw out the remnants of our old one following a whip around our home and perhaps deleting their number from our Nokia 1100 -remember those? I hold no ill will toward the 'new' when it comes to phones, for the record. Two tone screen displays and clunky video calling can stay in the days gone by, with my skate shoes and WWJD wristband. For the sake of 'moving on' and investing in our new relationships and the feelings and security of our new partner, most people regard it the correct move to empty their physical lives of photos and momentos. I don't think anyone would expect a new partner to be happy with wedding or holiday photos of an ex relationship to be displayed on the mantel, or wearing the ex partner's hoody while snuggling to watch a movie. At worst, any little box harbouring such things, if kept, would be discreetly stowed away in a corner under the rafters..and if found by a current partner would cause a few questions to be asked, such as "Why do you want to remember him/her?" And, all ulterior and guilty twinge feelings aside, isn't that fair? Who of us, honestly, want to think of our partner sitting alone in the loft, smiling and nostalgically rummaging through old trinkets, ticket stubs and photos of a love experienced in the past? Who of us are, honestly, comfortable with the idea of that? Granted, it may not be something that everyone struggles with, but it's true to say (and I've spoken to many about this), that most of us actually find it a struggle.

And now we have Facebook.

Prepare for a few "these days" here: Many of our past loves are no longer simply crammed into a box in the loft -and for those of us that didn't bludgeon them to death, nor are they simply represented by a box of keepsakes. These days the photos we may have discreetly kept are actually plastered over our Facebook albums and profile photos, suddenly bringing a new partner face to face with the fact that your tongue was down another person's throat while you visited the Louvre, with a comment still present and "Liked" along the lines of "That snog led to you scaling MY Eiffel Tower! ;) haha". Where ex couples may have kept each other's numbers for a while in order to get in touch over some final mutual debts, these days, ex partners are often featured in our friend list, with a nice green dot next to their name for an easy "Hello, how are you?" And these days, we may well find an ex of our new partner commenting on a particularly nice new photo, something like "HOT!!!" or "Still got it". Now, in any other face to face situation, no matter how liberal your thinking, if that was a face to face comment, that situation would not stay very friendly. And so, the boundaries are so blurred. Keeping photos and momentos hidden in the loft is one thing; but keeping in contact? Chatting to an ex on the laptop while laying in bed next to a current partner? Having an anxious disagreement in a new relationship because an ex has had opportunity to comment and blip up on one's radar with a comment, or a "Like". Obviously, there is no absolute right or wrong answer. The human experience and variables with each different situation mean debate over the matter can only be subjective and many different opinions justified. But, I will be so bold as to give my view and base it on experience. I've not had a girlfriend yet who has ever enjoyed finding old photos of me with an ex or who has happily handed an ear stud to me during a room clear out and said "Oh, that must be your ex girlfriend's, do you want to ring her and get it back to her?" I'll be honest about myself too; I've never enjoyed finding photos of my partner's ex fellas, or them together. I've never been thrilled that they still "have so much in common and like to chat and catch up".

An ex is not just a "friend". An ex is someone with whom we have shared the entirety of ourselves, emotionally, physically and more. Seldom are new partners comfortable with an ex being around, in any sense. So what is right? If you had to choose, should you invest in friendship with your ex, or a relationship with your new partner?

Sure, we have a right to remember our past. If we absolutely need to, though, in order to feel happy or at the expense of how our current partner feels, isn't that something to explore in ourselves? It's called "social media". We live in the shadow of what was once a much more interactive and real-time expression of social activity...it's all online. Back in 2003, how many people would have been happy to find out their partner was in the cafe with their ex, just "catching up and chatting about old times"? And just because it's currently done via a laptop, is it more acceptable and do you have more of a right to do so? Whether you'd leave your account open for your messages to be read by your partner is another matter.

A final thought. A common defense I hear from some that I've spoken to on the matter is that their partner needs to learn to trust. That their partner shouldn't ask them to clear out the past. I might venture here with questions for discussion, rather than giving my views. 1) Is trust not earned and trustworthiness not shown by selfless action for the benefit of a new partner?
and 2) A partner shouldn't ask you to clear out the past..but should they have to?

OWN tomorrow - the horizon awaits.

Howdie everyone,

Well, sometimes you have those years when everything you've worked for seems to crumble to the ground and, like a row of dominos, sees everything else tumble down with it. I, myself, have had one of those years. Whether or not it's something to do with 13 being involved, I'll leave to your personal superstitions and beliefs. I, personally, think it's more to do with getting involved with the wrong woman and hanging my career, car, home and self-esteem on the relationship. Never mix business and pleasure...but that's another blog altogether.

What I would like to actually address is the ability we have as people (with the help of those family and friends who really show how much you mean to them) to pick yourself back up again. I can now insert a thousand cliches, such as "everything happens for a reason" and " one door closes and another opens" and the like. There is truth to these, in some ways, but it has more to do with your own self and your personal strength and ambition. Yes...everything happens for a reason. But it's nothing to do with the stars or some cosmic overhead guiding our fate and looking out for us. And yes, one door closes and another is there to open. But again, there's no spiritual guidance on that. It comes down to cause and effect. Some things cause the sky to fall down around your ears. Some people slam a door in your face...and it's not that a spiritual breeze nudges another open with an attention grabbing and fateful creak. A door closes, you find yourself in a hallway of doors...and you have to dig down deep, assess who you now are...and kick the bugger open. With everything you have.

I'm kicking a few doors open. Doors that, two years ago, I wouldn't have even thought to look at. I'm scared. I'm nervous. I know they'll take a lot of work for me to thrive once I've crossed the threshold. But therein lies the joy of life. We can push forward. We can stand back, assess where we've come from, why we are now standing where we are..even if it is a bit aimless. And it's up to us whether we stand there looking to the past and weeping, regretting, standing absorbed in bitterness and blaming everything else for our downfall. Or...we can own tomorrow. We can make a new self; on a foundation of experience, wisdom and with a thicker skin.

Learn from yesterday. Own tomorrow.

Being a loner...can be lonely. Does it have to be?

For the last few days, I've treated myself to a little bit of random road tripping. One of the appealing aspects of devoting my working life to both music and writing, is that they are each extremely flexible and mobile. I would be a fool not to try getting away. You can't pack the car, hit the arterial routes and not envision -and hope for- the movie-like escapades of some charismatic protagonist. I hoped to find myself at the centre of new groups of friends. If I was a movie character, I'm sure I'd find myself sitting in a bar or a cafe alone to see it turn into some scintillating conversation with some sharp witted and completely captivated brunette, who'd inevitably push for some sort of hotel room rendezvous. The possibilities are just endless...in the movies. In reality, everything's a little bit more...'British'.

Groups in cafes keep very much to themselves...and should you make yourself known with eye contact or a comment, it's usually met with a polite agreement and a -not so discreet- flurry of “Who's this odd guy on his own and talking to us” eye contact between the group members. People are unnerved by confidence. Or maybe they just want to be left to their own lives. Which is fair.

This morning, the place I intended to shower happened to have a broken boiler, so I trundled off to find some other means of washing. I got into a cafe and promptly ordered an Americano on hearing the wifi was good. As my coffee roared and crackled into existence, I asked if there were any gyms or swimming pools around which I could use for a shower. I thought it was something to talk about, to engage with these other humans. I thought there may even be some interest into who I was and how 'random' I was being with my week. I also thought local knowledge would be a good way to go. The answer was quite typical of less than 'people person' individuals...and in this technological age of ours,

“Get your laptop out and Google it. That's the best thing to do”. It wasn't meant so rude. It was dismissive, though. More than that, it was just the preferable option to them having to think about their local area and communicate with another human.

It just got me thinking...these days we have GPS, so we rarely wind the window down and ask for directions. These days we Google everything from our phones...so who would ask a local for their recommendation for a place to eat? We go by internet reviews and whatever is ranked highest on a search engine.

It seems petty. It seems a bit nit picky. But even making small talk with someone behind a bar is difficult...because they're waiting to serve you and slink off with their mobile phone. I guess I just feel like something is missing. To travel around is not going to be like in the movies, with script written interest between strangers. It, unfortunately, is really, quite lonely.

There are some exceptions to this, which I have enjoyed. There are a number of people I've enjoyed conversations with who have enriched the experience...and for those fleeting moments I would repeat this trip. So there is something to be said about how enriching spontaneous and 'new' conversation with a stranger can be. It's just a shame that there are just more barriers to one human interacting with another, largely related to the ease of answers online...or the fact that people would rather skip through their Facebook news feed than interact with the people who are actually in their physical vicinity. Sod it, though, I'll push through those barriers. Next time. Maybe I just need to be bolder...and more annoying.

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Who are your real friends?

I love that song's lyric: "A friend in need is a friend indeed".

Do you want to know who your friends are? 

Recently, circumstance has shoveled a little excrement my way, which has served to highlight some interesting facts about my life.  The biggest revelation during this time related directly to how different people in my life make me feel.  Do they make me feel supported?  Loved?  Listened to?  Even...happy?  Something I very much realized was who decided to be there for me.

Let me say, I'm not someone who hankers after sympathy and attention.  If I can get on with it myself, I will.  But I was very moved to see who, after getting the idea that I was going through a hard time, made a purposeful effort...just to say "Are you ok?"

More than that, I was surprised...and hurt...by who didn't.

Three people, in particular, surprised me by getting in touch.  They were always friends, but we'd just lost touch.  But apart from one person, those I see on a very regular basis and drink with, failed to come through.  Chose not to offer that time and ask how I was.  

You can't realize something like that and feel the same way about your social group when the trouble subsides.  I found myself on the upside once more and got myself out and about.  I found myself feeling quite numb around those I'd thought would be there for me, but who failed to come through.  I saw how much they, actually, talked about themselves a lot...and really didn't know much about me.

So, it got me thinking.  Here are a few ways that I now critique my friendships.  They are just what I learned from this experience, but I hope it gets you thinking.

1)  You can lose touch, but they're there when it matters

As I said, three people made the effort to get in touch.  One of these was actually a friend of my ex-partner, but just wanted to check in, which I found rather lovely.  The other two were friends I used to talk a lot with, but jobs and study meant we moved away from each other.  However, we do live in a technological age, with Facebook, Twitter and the like.  Geography doesn't make or break friendships.  When I've been side by side with mates who've chosen not to ask how I was, it meant a lot to realize that even those who were too far away to give me a hug had been checking in on me.  And then, when it mattered, clicked 'Send'.

The other point here is that two individuals can change every circumstance in their life and not talk regularly, but you get on just the same as you always did.  A friendship is built on respect, love and interest in the other person.

2)  Friends are HONEST

There's nothing that should make you feel listened to more than when a friend looks you in the eye and says
"I think you may have that a bit wrong..."

It means they've given you the time to talk.  It means they've actually thought about what you've been saying.  Most importantly, it means they're comfortable enough with you to risk disagreeing with you on a very personal matter.  It could be a tad angering when you spill your heart to someone and they tell you the opposite of what you'd like to hear, but keep in mind...only your true friends who've spent time to listen and are close enough to you could do that.  So, take a moment, think about what your friend has advised.  They're close enough to have you reject their views too!


3)  Friends are for life...not just for Christmas, birthdays, nights out

What I mean is, it should take more than circumstance to bring people together.  I have many people who'll call themselves my friend because they regularly see me when we're each at a particular place, but there's never an invite for a specific meet up or chat.  A coffee date.  A movie evening. 

I noticed that around mutual friends (both male and female) with my ex-girlfriend, I would always receive the invites through her.  There was a lot of Facebook or Twitter chatter that I wasn't included in.  Also, most conversation between us as a group was directed at her.  I soon realized that they had become her friends...and I was her boyfriend.  A plus-one.  Even she didn't invite me to group activities.  When we broke up, she received a lot of support from them...and I wasn't approached.  That's fine, because it made me realize something:

A friend is not just pleased to see you when you happen to be there.  That's a 'mate'.   A friend wants to see you when you're not.



On that note, thank you to those friends who've been there for me.  And everyone else: I'll see you around.  

5 STEPS - HOW TO GET AWAY WITH THE 'STEALTHY POO'

Do you hate public number two's and want to know how to get away with a crafty 'Ker-plunk'?  

I hope you're not eating while you're reading this, but this just may prove very useful to those of you who find yourself unable to drop a Deuce when out in public or at the mother-in-law's, lavender-scented abode.  I am, unashamedly, one of those people.  Comparing people's toilet habits to those of animals, I think you have 'dogs', who'll pretty much do it on your foot if you don't watch yourself.  Then you have cats...who find themselves a spot, establish a far away "I'm trying not to notice you watching me" stare  and promptly do their best to cover up any evidence they'd even considered doing such a horrid thing.

I remember when I lived with my brother, Andy; he called me out of my room to ask about something I felt was considerably insignificant...given the task he was currently undertaking.  He flung the bathroom door open to converse more easily...and I found myself chit-chatting with my brother as he sat on the toilet...eating the leftovers of last night's kebab.  Where I'm a meek, little cat...he's definitely a proud and unashamed canine.  

When at university, I found myself staying once a week at student halls, with shared bathrooms.  Had I known then what I know now, I may not have needed to drive a 15 mile round trip to the local services  for the sake of anonymity and the helpful fact that they play music in the toilets (Gordano near Bristol, if you're interested).  I know, "Shit break" from the movie American Pie comes to mind.  But there was no alternative.

Those of you who share my heightened sense of awareness will relate to sweating through the gut ache of trying to wait, at all costs, to get to an appropriately private location for a Doozie.  However, despite my best efforts -and a hernia- I have had to, over the years, develop a whole range of techniques for the stealthy poo.  Sometimes you just can't wait.  Sometimes you're staying for a weekend in a shared house.  Sometimes, you just have to yank the pants down and get re-acquainted with last night's dinner...where ever you are.

5 STEPS - HOW TO GET AWAY WITH THE 'STEALTHY POO'

First of all, we're looking to minimize the impact of three different factors.
These are:
SOUND
SMELL
SKIDS

STEP 1 - Do it in the shower
Well, not in the shower!  If you can synchronize your poop schedule with your daily shower (should you be staying somewhere that has a combined toilet and shower room), this will save you a lot of trouble and, dare I say, give you time to relax and enjoy the event.  The noise of the shower will provide a blanket of sound over any splash or splatter and give time for the smell to disperse as you shower. However, I still recommend you follow this step by step guide to maximize discretion, even in the most unforgiving of situations. Turn the shower on before you proceed to step 2.

STEP 2 - Close the window...
...for the time being.  While, psychologically, you'll want to open it to minimize smell, we first need to deal with SOUND.  Closing the window will prevent anyone outside from hearing a particularly unforgiving splash.  If you're in a public loo, we'll just have to make do with step 3 onwards.

STEP 3 - Catch and swivel
 This is where it gets complicated.  Get a handful of tissue paper and get your hand in the bowl and ready to catch.  Hold the bog roll in your other hand in preparation for step 4.  If you're a guy, hold off peeing until step 5  We're looking to support the Doodie as it lowers to the water in order to do away with that giveaway 'dunk'.  You'll need to do your best to get it all out in one go, if you can.  Lower it as far as you can without getting your hand wet...and now we get a little busy.  The moment to finish the 'catch' is when you're either about to hit water or you feel you're going to get a little noisy with any accompanying flatulence.  Abandon the catch..you've done all you can.  Now turn and flush the chain just as you get noisy.  The roar of the toilet will cover up any roar of your arse and, more importantly, throw any listeners off the trail.  They'll think you've finished going for a pee and will be none the wiser.  This also gives the the Doodie minimum exposure time to the air, dealing, simultaneously, with the majority of Sound AND Smell.  Clever, eh?

STEP 4 - Wipe...fast.
You have a window of opportunity here.  We've all heard people pulling toilet paper apart...it's a dead giveaway.  The cistern is still filling up and making a fair bit of noise.  You do not want to take your time at this point!!!  You should already have the roll of paper in hand from preparation at step 3.  Use it.  Now!  As soon as you turn from the flush, start wiping.  Be quick and effective.  You should have been able to take care of everything before the loo quietens down.  If not, reach for the tap and turn it on to trick any listeners into thinking you're washing your hands as you disguise the sound of toilet roll breaking.  It's also a good idea to make noises to simulate blowing your nose.

STEP 5 - Clean up
Well done, that's the worst of it over.  We've taken care of Sound and Smell, for the most part.  At this point, open the window if there is one and spray any fragrance, if there is any.  You've still got your tissue paper and the last S in the bowl, Skids.  We can deal with this relatively easily.  Take the toilet brush in hand, stand over the bowl...and flush.  I've learned the hard way to wait until the tissue has gone down before trying to get rid of any Skids with a toilet brush.  You end up with a tell-tale mess tangled up in the bristles!  As soon as the tissue disappears, start using the brush.  If there isn't one, that's why you saved your pee.  Guys, aim and spray. Target any mark that needs particular attention and let the flush do the rest. Ladies, should the second flush fail to clean the bowl, you'll just have to resort to wiping the bowl with loo roll and going for a third flush.  Again, make nose blowing sounds to trick anyone that you're simply flushing a snot rag. 

This technique has taken years to develop and refine, so don't be surprised if it doesn't all go to plan the first few times you try it.  I recommend practicing somewhere that you're comfortable.

Best of luck!!!