Away with the Fairies

Well it has been a long time hasn't it. The last time this blog was updated seems to pre-date the dinosaurs and the birth of the fairies that now surround us. The noise of their wings flicking, and that irritating ethereal light that intermittently is captured in your peripheral vision. I remember a time when this wasn't the norm. I remember when we once dreamt of fairies but never believed in them. Innocent days, when there was no fear, and only wonderment. Now we have all changed. The fairies have taken over, and their killing is out of control. The phrase was that every time someone sneezed a fairies wings were broken, little did we all know that this was being saved up to fuel a wrath that could never be defended. We had no chance. Now we are living in our holes in the earth, created from fireball explosions, and we live off the worms. The fairies will sustain, we will perish. This is the way it must be.

Anyway, I've got loads of things to cover in this blog, so that's the last you'll hear of fairies. The blighters.

Obviously, the summer months have been incredibly busy for us, like most people I'm sure. I'm not supposing that we have a special life to the norm, but they don't write about theirs. We have been to the Isle of Wight, which will not be the last you hear of that I am sure, and I took part in the Great North Swim. I have been to a stag do, and the corresponding wedding, and Southampton have been bought and the journey continues.

Each of these have many sub-sections that will be embellished eventually, and also some hilarious anecdotes that I am sure you will not be surprised about. These situations crop up and this is the beauty of life to me. To keep moving on through the journey, not standing still, and taking everything out of every moment, and when a funny or surprising thing happens, make the most of it because you never know when you'll laugh next. This is what it's all about. It's not about where you are or what you have, although these factors make up the journey itself, but the treasuring of the real beauty that comes from within everybody and occasionally shines.

The Isle of Wight was amazing. The weather was okay, hot some days and cloudy on others, but the atmosphere and the rhythm have captured my inspiration. The way of life appears more relaxed, the space is refreshing, and of course there are the beaches. We were looking for ideas to move from where we are, to continue the journey, and this has ticked so many boxes. It is close to our families, without being on the doorstep, close to the coast (not close to anything else), safe and secure for children to grow up, a better climate, a hospital on the island and consultants in Southampton, a boat ride away from the mighty Red Army (season ticket here we come), close enough to grandparents for everything, and plenty of potential to get a job and other streams of income that will be more possible around tourism. Win, win, win, win, win, win. So, watch out for this blog one day moving location.

The Great North Swim was fantastic. A real sense of achievement, and I am really glad that I did it. The sense of achievement doesn't come from the actual swim (34 mins though, which I would have taken at the beginning), but from the amount of money that I raised. The total now is at a staggering 4,000 pounds, and this could potentially be doubled by Astrazeneca to which I will find out next month. It is a great feeling that personally I am responsible for making this much money that will certainly make a difference, it has really spurred me on to do something every year no matter how humble or grand. As the ancient Chinese say, 'He who gives roses, on his hands remains the scent.' Although when they say it sounds more like, 'ting wen hui pong, jung wen linj gui.'

The stag do was really good, although I probably killed off a few more brain cells, and I have been seeing these blinking fairies ever since. A weekend in sleepy Swanage. It doesn't sound like much but we made the most of it. I won't recount many stories as I can't remember them now, but we definitely went to, apparently, the fourth best pub in England. The Square and Compass. It was nice, set in the middle of nowhere on the top of the cliffs of the Jurassic Coastline, and serving organic Scrumpy. Now, we were there for six hours approximately, and by the end of it I don't really remember my name or the fact that I had legs that worked. The stuff looked like diesel and probably tasted like diesel, if I had ever tasted diesel to compare. But I survived to tell the tale, even though six of the party did in fact die. Oh well, good weekend weighing it all up.

The wedding was not quite as successful. Claire had to go to the hospital with Sophie for a water infection just as were supposed to be leaving for the ceremony. So I made my way there on my own, checked in to the hotel that Claire and I were to stay at, and went to the ceremony. After this there was good news as Claire text to say that she would be arriving soon, and could I meet her at the hotel. We then both turned up, a bit late, for the meal, which was very nice, with a group of people that we didn't know on our table. During the speeches I had a phone call to say that Soph was having a fit and that an ambulance was called. Claire and I left stage left and hailed a taxi that took us from Lymington to Southampton, fifty quid. I then made it back to the wedding at 12:30am, as everyone was leaving, and then walked back to the hotel on my own. Claire was in the hospital overnight with Sophie. What a disaster. But this is just part of the journey, and there will always be traffic jams on a journey.

Finally, Saints have been bought, we are now minted, we have a proper manager and players are coming in that we've heard of. It is all looking rosy at St. Marys, and we are gradually climbing up the league. At last, happy days.

So, there we are, a whistle stop tour of the summer, and I promise that I won't leave it this long in the future.

Under 21 Fun

Part One - The Cross

European Championships in football are surely European Championships... or maybe not. What about the Women's one, or perhaps the U21 edition? I am waiting to fly to Gothenburg to witness the calibre, prestige, and tension that one would expect in the EC that we know and love. What is worrying is that no one that was told where I was going knew that this competition existed, or worse still if England were even in it. So will I find a mass of empty stadia, some old men and kids at the matches, and no chanting? Or will there be a fair contingent of travelling fans with the passion and rowdiness that one would expect. I wonder, because like most people I know very little about it.

Kaj, the footballing oracle, tells me that it should be good, but he goes to Azerbaijan to watch Finland play out a nil nil draw. The mystery is still there. I thought that I would write this now to show that my expectations are unclear, and then on my way home I will write the conclusion and hopefully solve the mystery.

Sometimes the anticipation is better than the event, but sometimes like this, when you don't know what to expect, the result can be brilliant. Let's hope it's the latter.

Part Two - The Finish

Well, to start with the weather has been amazing, and this fits with the memeories that one has with major tournaments in the summer. As I was sat in a café sipping on a foreign lager, I had visions of the pitched street battles that you see covered in news articles following Englands recent exit from the last competition. The difference was that there was absolutely no sign of any football linked obstacles on the horizon.

We had of course seen a few Finnish fans drinking in small groups and wearing the team shirts, but it was all very quiet and civilised. I thought that because we were in Gothenburg and the game was in Halmstad that there would be much more support in that town, which was an hour outside Gothenburg.

However, when we arrived in Halmstad after an hours train ride, the same quietness greeted us. We found our way to the Fanzone, which obviously had a congregation gathering, but still no atmosphere. No singing. It turned out that Finland had brought 5,000 fans and England, probably 200, to a 7,500 capacity stadium.

The atmosphere inside was building nicely, albeit Finnish biased, there was not one English song for the entire game. A record of some note I would imagine. This was the first tournament that Finland had ever qualified for in any shape of the game, and this explained the huge attendance.

The game was pretty drab with England coming out 2-1 winners, but there was something extremely liberating about standing up on my own and cheering an England goal amongst a stand of Finnish supporters. Of course because the competition doesn't really mean enough to anybody to fight about it, I felt pretty safe for doing this. I wouldn't have done it if there had been any note of malice in the air.

I walked away with a strange feeling of winning but not being able to enjoy the moment because of a lack of anyone to enjoy it with. This must be what it feels like to be a Blackburn away fan.

When we arrived back in Gothenburg there was ten minutes left of the Spain vs Germany game. So we sat in a bar, watched the end of it, and waited the fans to come by as the game was only ten minutes away. Did they come ... No. Either they knew a party somewhere else in town, or they weren't there.

So, is the U21's a major tournament? No. FIFA are trying to make it one with the corporate branding everywhere you go, but unfortunately it's people that make great tournaments. Characters that through their passion do stupid things that make it memorable. There were no people at this, apart from middle aged men who were looking for an excuse to go on a jolly.

I've just remembered though, there were two streakers that ran on in the England game from Finland. All though they were not athletic looking they both managed to get from one end to another talking to players on the way. Stuart Pearce was ready to grab them and that could have been worth writing about, but instead the summary is an anti-climax for the football but thumbs up for the trip and the beautiful city of Gothenburg.

Gales in Wales

It had been a rushed morning as the two families aimed to be ready and leave before the day moved on too far. For today was the day that they were all going to visit Portmeirion, the small man-made village conceived and designed by the idealist William Clough Ellis. Situated in the north-west of Wales passed the slate mines and Snowdonia, the bay is very secluded.

Your faithful protagonist had mentioned the day previously, "the only thing we must make sure is that we don't go to Portmeirion when it is raining, because there is very little that we can do inside." At the time we were all leaving, the sun wasn't exactly forth coming but at least it was starting to put its clothes on and was looking for its hat.

The beginning of the voyage, from the shared cottage near Conwy, was struck by disaster. The golden winged chariot that is used to transport myself and my loved ones had a tyre that was losing air. We pulled into the only garage within 100 square miles and to our dismay the Air machine was out of order. No air, who would have thought? On closer inspection we found another machine for HGVs that had air attached so we pulled up next to it. After repeatedly attempting to inflate the tyres there was no way that it was producing any air.

Woody, however, the clear thinking, visionary in the accompanying vehicle came to our rescue, when after a quick look noticed that the start button needed to be pushed to begin. Hmmm, whatever...

Another twenty minutes driving time brought the worst possible outcome, and the main purpose of this blog. The heavens opened, and instead of releasing angels to ease the worlds problems, there came such a volume of water descending from the sky that Noah could be seen in a neighbouring field putting a few pieces of wood together.
It wasn't just rain. It was the heaviest, fattest, wettest rain that I had seen for a long time. Just perfect considering where we were going. A village with a lot of private houses, and really the attraction is walking around outside appreciating the beauty of the individual architecture and aesthetic works of art. When we pulled up in the car park neither family left their car. Both were plucking up the courage to venture forward.

Finally we did make it though and thought that it would be best to try and get in somewhere to eat lunch first. This we achieved after walking through the torrent of rain as it battered against ourselves. Not only were my shoes wet, my clothes wet, and my face wet, but the water was even beginning to seep into my soul.

We had lunch, which was simple yet effective, and afterwards it was as if we had passed a trial set to us by the gods. The determination that was required to not turn back and to blindly continue to the goal pleased the ethereal deities and we were rewarded with dryness and even clearness.

The weather improved so much that by the time we had reached the beach, which is nicely sat in the bay with acres and acres of sand moving out to an estuary, the sun was even warm enough to see Dylan running around in his pants running in to the puddles that were probably caused by the rain rather than the sea.

We even had an ice cream and I bought some filter coffee which brought on its own disaster. Later that evening after one cup I went on to break the cottage cafetiere and had to buy a new one for thirteen quid.

The day turned out to be lovely and we learnt that if you strive through adversity then you will be rewarded eventually.

Plant Pranks

This week saw the end of one era and the beginning of a new one, hopefully. I have moved out of the finance world and into the world of Project Management. It is a conscious decision and one that I hope I can succeed at, although it is out of my comfort zone. This is part of my decision to move jobs; the idea of leaving my comfortable job to achieve a more rewarding job that will hopefully use my strengths more. But like any upward step it is a little daunting, but fear not your dashing hero is not going to crumble just yet. Self-confidence has never been lacking before and a little wobble probably does me some good.

So part of the process was to move office. I am still based on the same site but now I have moved past the laboratories, past the animals, past Eeyores Gloomy Place, and WOL's house, the Shire and the Forest of Endor, and finally to the other side of the mini village which I call "work". I have an office with one other person, which in itself is a change from the open plan environment that I have been used to, and this person works part-time which means that Mondays and Fridays I'm on my own.

So the story takes us to the Friday just gone, the first day in my new job. I turn up wanting to obviously make a good impression, to act professional and make the other people in my team not feel as though they've just brought a right Muppet into their fold.

The way things go down at my work is that when you move office you cannot do it yourself due to health and safety, so a moves team ask you to sticker things up with your new office on, they provide you with big crates to put your personal belongings in, and then they move it across. The night before I had prepared everything to come across, including a printer that I was attempting to bring with me because my new office didn't have one and means a 100 yard walk to retrieve prints. I also thought that I would play a joke on the lady who used to sit next to me by putting a sticker on her house plant that she cares for.

So Friday comes and as usual in my world, the sun was shining and the blue sky was faultless aside from a few vapour trails punctuating the clearness. I await the delivery of my boxes, and sure enough the guys came into my office with a trolley containing all of my belongings. Happy Days, I thought to myself. They then handed me a plant pot that contained soil and nothing else. Where once there was a tall, erect trunk emitting from the earth there was now a void of life, as desolate as Portsmouth in a drought.

"Excuse me, mate," I said to the first man. "There was a big plant in here. What's happened?"
"Oh, yeah, we were going to say, we had an accident in the van and it fell over. This is all we've got left."
"But it's not mine, you see, it's the lady's who sat next to me." I explained with not a small note of fear.
"I'm really sorry, but this is it. Can you ring her and apologise from us."
"Hmmm. Yeah, ok. Thanks," I said dismissively, and the two gentlemen left.

About three seconds later it dawned on me that this was a wind up. a) there was no way if that was the truth they would have told me like that, and b) I had just noticed that the pot was different.

A quick call to Helen, the lady that sat next to me, soon followed, where I explained that she had been rumbled and it didn't work. After a brief denial she soon came clean, and it had transpired that she had made it in to work before the team had turned up to remove the boxes, had seen the sticker on the plant and decided to play a trick on me to serve me right. Fair enough, I thought, I probably deserved that one.

She then went on to say if I had noticed anything else missing. I looked around and then realised that they had not brought the printer either. Apparently the PA of my old department had explained that we were not allowed to move printers around and so she had blocked the move in the eleventh hour. Bummer.

I hung up and continued to open the crate that held my personal belongings. I did not expect this to be the source of even more tom foolery but like a pirate opening Captain Jack's treasure chest my eyes opened wide as I lifted the lid.

Along with the files, stationery, picture frames etc that I had housed in there not 18 hours before, was also a ream of shredded paper, four big packs of water machine cups, and at the bottom I found my water bottle full of the cup a soup that I had put in the crate in powder form.

I then spent the next half an hour having to remove the shredded paper and dispose of it in the bin trying not to make a mess of my new, clean office. Whilst listening out for any of my new colleagues so that I could intercept them before they could see for themselves the type of people that I had left.

I started to think that surely this was over the top in response to my harmless little joke with the plant, and my mind started thinking of revenge. Later that afternoon I noticed that the lady who was instigating this childish activity was in a meeting. I stole across the site in my car on a specific mission to kidnap. When I arrived in my old office, sure enough she was missing, and I ventured over to her desk.

She is the type of person that has small soft toys adorning her screen, and a quick movement possible by my ninja training, and I was away with an elephant and a rabbit. When I made it back to the sanctuary of the other side of the site I took some photos of the two animals in tortured positions and sent them to her with a ransom note, demanding a heartfelt apology by the end of the day or a rabbits ear was being sent to her.

As expected the apology came through and the toys were released without injury. So all in all, a very low profile start to my new job where I think I maintained my professional image, and exhibited the integrity to which they have bought in to. Hopefully it will now calm down and I can get on with the new challenge uninterrupted.

The Bunny Run

As the clouds were dissipating, and the sun burned through the haze that had fallen through the early morning dew, a lone ranger made his way through the winding lanes of Cheshire. His objective was clear, he must get a rabbit. A special type of rabbit at that, a Small-eared Lopp rabbit, one of the rarest and most desired of all of the breeds. There was one problem with the Small-eared Lopp though, unlike it's cousins the normal rabbits that even have a phrase named after them, they do not breed like rabbits. This is the main reason why they are rare but probably the reason why they are so desirable as well.

The man, let us call him Horace, wound his way along the familiar lanes that led him to the Garden Centre. This was of course his target on such a special mission. He had rung up the day before to identify whether they had a batch of Lopp's in, to which they had confirmed that there were three waiting to be sold. They usually had a batch every six weeks or so, and there was bound to be competition. This is why he had set off at the crack of dawn to ensure that he could be at the front of the queue.

He arrived at 8.15am for a 9am opening and pulled into the car park with a note of anxiety hoping that there wasn't a huge throng of people waiting already. Luckily there wasn't a throng, but there was a couple of eager losers that looked as though they had probably camped there over night. The three of them waited independently but also sizing each other up and assessing their chances against each other.

At nine o'clock the doors were opened and the Bunny Run was on. The three of them approached the garden books section and it was a cagey affair, no one had broken sweat and each had their own race plan mapped out clearly in their heads. However, as Horace neared the seeds section he stole a sideways glance at his main rival to discover that he was also looking slyly back at him. This man was also in his mid-forties and had left his wife and daughter in the car park, waiting expectantly for their main bread winner to bring home the goods. Horace had protected himself from this added pressure by leaving his at home, the sign of experience since this was his second run.

Horace thought that to test his rival out he would quicken his step and see if it was matched. This was maybe his mistake, because as soon as he upped a gear the competition then broke into a canter and took an early lead, and as they rounded the anoraks the rival had a clear lead, and also the racing line. Horace then started for it in earnest and the sprint was on, but the rival who was also more in shape than Horace eased up another gear and made the counter at the Pets section by a clear five lengths.

The shop assistant was waiting there expectantly but also appearing distracted as if nothing was strange about the way they were acting.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked politely.
"Yes, please," responded the rival trying to catch his breath, "do you have any Small-eared Lopps for sale?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," said the assistant trying to hold back a smile of satisfaction. "We cannot sell the ones we have because they are under weight"
"What? Oh. Oh," as the rival backed away from the counter visibly shell shocked.

Horace then approached the counter in his usual charming, unassuming self and asked what under weight meant.
"We can't give a guarantee if they're under weight, sir." replied the assistant clearly softened by Horace's approach.
"Well, I don't care about the guarantee, I'm quite happy to buy one without that," said Horace with a glint of optimism.
"Oh, well, if that's alright, then how many would you like?" asked the lady.
"Only the one, please," replied Horace, "thanks very much."
The transaction was made and the deal was complete. As Horace moved away the initial rival made his way back to the counter to argue the issue of under weightedness. After this was explained he got away with another two of the rabbits and the Lopps were sold out.

Before Horace had made his way out of the store he also heard another person arguing with some Garden Centre staff about the time that they opened because his watch had said 8.58am when he arrived and yet the doors were already open. Another person that would have to get there early for the next Bunny Run.

This tale represents a number of maxims including; the early bird catches the Lopp, and the Tortoise will beat the Hare with a bit of poise and intellect.

As Horace made his way back along those familiar lanes, safe in the knowledge that he was going to look like a super dad when he arrived back home with the Lopp in his hands, an unusual sense of calm came over him. All was right in the world, the haze had burnt off and revealed a beautiful sunny morning. The rabbit was beside him with a small smile on his face, looking up at him with pride that he had been picked by such a clever new dad. There was no thought in Horace's mind that he had just lost any integrity that he had ever had by actually chasing somebody through a garden centre.

The End??

Well, the time has finally come. After years of just missing out on investment, the reality has finally dawned on most Saints fans that actually this is the crunch. It isn't about who is up front, or who is managing, or even whom we were playing. All of those things pale into insignificance against the thought of not existing at all.

For years there has been a general dirge of information, which has been presented by anyone that has a keyboard, about the team and board decision-making. Most of the unfavourable decisions have been made through a necessity to remain operating and although this has always been brushed aside by the deluded mass, here we are.

Some of the main examples of this was getting rid of Pearson (cost too much), selling Rasiak, John, Blackstock, back to Walcott, Bale and Bridge (all cost too much and offers were too good to turn down).

These decisions were made out of the objective to remain buoyant, but unfortunately unlike most businesses, you cannot move to a cost leadership model of cutting costs and selling more of a lower quality product. In football it is all about quality, and as soon as you start getting rid of that the end is near.

Although in and out of the pubs of Southampton there will be many arguments about who was to blame and why this has happened, the simple truth has always been... WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY!!!!

The problem came about ten years ago when the face of football began to change forever. The money started flowing faster and faster, and the traditional small family clubs had to up their game just to compete. Some clubs went in to vast amounts of debt, a la Leeds, and some others tried to button down the hatches and try good old honest graft, maybe Everton can be in this category. We didn't have many options, we didn't go in to debt so we just tried to manage the way we always had by making money off our players that we brought through. But if you keep doing this you just become a glorified academy for the top four, but with massive costs.

Rich investors have bought 90% of the clubs in the Premiership; you can almost name them all. In the old days you were lucky if you knew Ken Bates and Doug Ellis. This never happened to Saints and this was when the writing was on the wall.

The only actual mistake the Board of Southampton made that was critical to the sustainability, and not just a bad decision that isn't made by any board all over the world, is the lack of attracting any investment. My theory on this is that the people involved with the Southampton board are small time Southampton business people who are rich if they have £2 million. Well surprise, those people get swallowed up everyday by the big boys in football now. And not one of them could attract any real money because they would have been laughed out of the room.
Other small clubs were lucky they had fans that were really rich, eg Bolton, Wigan, Blackburn. We did not have this luxury.

So if you want to know why this has happened, and equally how we can get out of it, then we never did, and we need to, attract big money investment. This is it in a nutshell.

The positives out of this situation are now finally that the divided faithful of St. Marys can now unite, and also that Southampton as a club, and as a city, and as a force can unite and get behind this team. We will find our saviour, we will stay up and we will continue into the future because the spirit of Southampton when it is going in the same direction is one of the strongest anywhere.

DARE TO BELIEVE

Takk, and Good Night.

It's been a long time since I have written my last blog. I'd love to say that in that time I have found the cure to cancer, travelled to a far off distant land where I had under gone a life changing experience, and finally worked out the answer to the ultimate question, "Why do footballers get paid so much money?" But I haven't done any of these things. I have been really busy instead, and haven't had time to write this.

Although that's an excuse which if remotely pulled apart would fold, it is the truth. I have had just as much time as someone that has achieved all of the above, but I've been knackered. We've been doing a lot with the house; cleared the loft, decorated the kids room, got the office back. Also, we've had a couple of emergencies, I've been to Sweden, and I've been to see Status Quo; all of these things would normally have featured in the blog, but there you go.

Finally the event that has inspired me to pick up the old quill again, is a chance meeting with an idol of mine. No-one will know who she is but I have admired her for years. She is an Icelandic singer/songwriter with a voice that was initially made with honey but then dragged through a load of broken glass, and finally 20 Marlboro. The result is exceptionally enticing, but this is not all that she has. She has a heart that appears to have been broken so many times that it needs to be thrown away and started again. The lyrics are brilliantly written, and she is the right side of underground that makes her cool, without being depressed. It's all presented through a smile that makes any audience feel for her, and want to put an arm around her and let her know that it will all be alright.

Well, I heard that she was playing in Manchester at a small venue that is new, and so I never played there. The gig had sold out straight away, and in my normal timing, I missed out. But where there's a will there's a way, and I looked on the Internet tout sites that showed that one ticket was going for £97. I suppose that Romeo would have put his hand in his pocket for Juliet, Anthony for Cleopatra, and Jose Mourinho for himself, but this was more than my love was worth. Instead I went to my old mucker Damo, who in the time that he hasn't been playing in my band has become a bit of a player in the Manchester music scene. So it turned out that his management company were promoting this gig as well, and a phone call later Mike Holley plus one were on the guest list for free. Obviously destiny was calling, and the angels had not orchestrated such divine fate ever before.

The gig was only 300 people strong, and packed into a small corner of the venue where the stage was. Due to the abysmal architecture of the Victorians who clearly were not thinking of gigs when they were building this original textiles emporium, they had put thick pillars right down the side of the stage which meant no visibility to the stage from anywhere except from right in front of it. Was it that the angels had packed it in? Ian and I stood at the bar having a pint listening to the voice that was being played through a harp that heaven was holding, and occasionally catching a glimpse of her forehead.

The gig finished and strangely most of the 300 people left immediately. I was still having a drink, and Ian, who turns into a pumpkin after 11 o'clock left as well. So that just left me with my friend Carling. We went to the merchandise table to see what was on offer, and I asked if they had anything signed. They replied that they didn't but if I wanted, the guy would go backstage and ask her. I was just stood there, and there wasn't a queue, so I said, "well, yeah... if you don't mind". The bloke disappeared through another door, and I was left there waiting, feeling a bit stupid for asking.

Then the door opened, like it used to for Stars in their Eyes, a bright light shone from behind, and small doves escaped from the gaps and flew off to spread the word of peace. A weird ethereal music was to be heard, but from not one particular source, and then as my eyes adjusted to the light I could make out the diminutive form of Emiliana Torrini breaking through the barrier into reality. My reality.

She asked me if I had enjoyed the gig, and I responded from a voice deep within that, "I had, thank you very much." I explained to her that I really enjoyed her music, and tried very hard to not sound like a serial killer. There were a couple of others stood by us, and I just stood there as she pulled out a marker and marked her own album. "Takk! Emiliana T. To. Mike, with luurve..."

I looked her straight in the eye and thanked her very much again, we shared a brief moment and then she disappeared back through the door that she had come.

I went away from the venue whilst being carried by an army of the doves that had escaped previously, and returned home to my normal life but with the knowledge that that had just happened.

As in Mr.Benn when he returns home from a drug enhanced escape in the costume shop, and always has a souvenir in his pocket. She is now in a frame on the wall in my hall, always there to remind me of the night that I saw heaven, and looked an angel in the eyes.

In Pursuit of Happiness

I mentioned in my last blog about the fact that money can't buy happiness, and although it is something that is said a lot, it is always scoffed at when it is raised. It makes perfect sense to me, but last week had me thinking about what exactly does it mean and why is it that so many people do not believe in the maxim.

The phrase, and the teachings behind it, come from Eastern philosophies, where the mind and the spirit being at one with nature and the environment that you exist in, is the key driver of happiness. The whole bit about a monk that owns nothing is the richest man on earth. Now I appreciate that this is not everyone's cup of tea, and I think it would be impossible to exist in the western world effectively, and do this. But there is some sense in the theory.

As long as you are wrapped up in the Western culture of more is more, and that material gain is king, then you will by definition never be happy. The chain will continue forever. No one can own everything in the world. As long as you strive for more then you will never fully appreciate what you have, and then true happiness will always evade you.

When I was a kid, I would be happier to be an adult. When I was an adult, I would be happier when the band took off. When the band fell through, I would be happier when I found a good job. When I had a good job, I would be happier when I had a pay rise. And so the chain goes on. This example does not even touch on the countless material possessions that I have had that would enrich my life, and the novelty wears off and I search for the next life changing device that would make me happier. There is no end.

YOU CAN NEVER WAIT FOR HAPPINESS, IT IS RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.

As long as you wait for something else to happen to make you happy then you will never truly be fulfilled. When that thing happens you will eventually need something else to happen.
Break the chain now. Reflect on everything that you have and appreciate it. Not just possessions, but everything in your life. We are so lucky compared to billions of people around the world, and the multiple billions that have lived through history. We are well off, in terms of health, opportunity and inspiration. Do not take this for granted.

Once you look at what you have, you will undoubtedly realise that you have too much. You can't concentrate on the good things because they are muddled in with the old, broken things.
Another example that everyone could benefit from. Recently, I looked through my clothes. Now, I have never bought that many clothes, not really my thing, but everything that I had was a favourite. I never threw anything out because I was emotionally attached to almost everything. But when I thought of the last time I wore something it was going back years. So I just threw away, or gave to charity, nearly everything that was in my drawers or wardrobe. It left me with a few t-shirts, my work suits and shirts that I still wear, (literally six shirts) and any sports kit that I still wear. Everything was clear. I then went out and bought some nice new things where I had gaps, and put them in my wardrobe. Now, before I used to look in my wardrobe I would never think that I had nice things because all I could see was the old, tatty stuff. Now when I look in my wardrobe, I see all the stuff that is pretty recent, and that I wear, this makes me now feel much better about it, and psychologically I now feel richer and better off.

The same applies for absolutely everything in your life. Do not hang on to things just because you might one day use it. If you haven't used it for a couple of years, then give it away. If by chance you do need it shortly after then treat yourself to something that you actually need (it probably needed updating anyway). You will have the money because you won't be wasting it on the other things that you don't need.

If you follow these simple rules then you will always be surrounded by nice things, you will always be happy, you will be existing in the Western world but maintaining your happiness, you will not want more all of the time. You will learn to appreciate what you have because you will always be looking at it from that perspective, rather than what you don't have.

This way when you hear the next person say that money can't buy you happiness, you do not have to scoff, but instead give a knowing nod to another enlightened soul that has moved away from the thought control that this culture injects into us.

It all makes sense, and since I have been making changes according to it, it has made a difference to me. It can make a difference to everybody.

To back it up, did you know that 90% of lottery winners lose their money within ten years. This is because they weren't happy beforehand, and so the promised land for them lie in possessions. Eventually their money runs out and they are still not happy. Just think of all the good they could have done, and the lasting happiness that they could have achieved.

"Keep what you've got, by giving it all away" - Ian Brown.

New Year, Same Revolution

The New Year is a time for reflection and new beginnings. It needn’t be, but as we are all influenced by the culture around us, there is no getting away from the constant reminders at this time of the year to have a resolution of some description. People should constantly reflect on their own lives and make promises to themselves to improve parts of it, otherwise they are just wasting time. And that time is precious when you consider how quickly the past year has gone.

In 2008 my journey through life has progressed quite substantially. At this time last year I was still coming to terms with fatherhood and trying to make the step from “hospitalised detailed parent” to “relaxed normal life parent”. The transition has been difficult and there isn’t really anyone that can help, you just have to keep going. I particularly think it’s hard for Dad’s because you don’t get a chance to completely leave one life and carry on with another. You have to keep going with the life that caused you stress and anxiety before you had kids, and then add on a load more anxiety and stress, especially in our case. I found that very hard near the beginning of the year, but I have made a massive leap forwards in my own mind with regards to this.

Also, I went on a bit of a self-discovery journey, to understand who I really was and what I should be doing. That was a good period, where I had a lot of energy, and truly found some answers that had been evading me for the last ten years. It made me feel passionate about the things that I want to move towards, and not so down on the things that I am doing at the moment, as they are just a means to an end and I know the purpose of them. I think this will be hugely beneficial to me in the future, and already I am making progress with most of my goals.

Specifically, I have started writing the book that I have always wanted to write, and although it is hard going, I’m on the journey. Our finances are really sorted out now, not only are we on top of everything that we need to be, we also have an aggressive plan to knock off as much of our mortgage as possible in the next 4 years. One of the best things that we have changed about the way we live is simplification. We always ask ourselves do we need it, rather than just want it, and therefore we try not to waste money on unnecessary items. Obviously occasional things slip through, and I’d like to introduce the newest member of our family, the Epiphone Hummingbird, my seventh and sweetest guitar. But we also show our appreciation to others that help us, especially the people that help Sophie on a daily basis. This is one of my main drivers for eliminating my debt, to have the ability to help others. Money does not bring you happiness, that is guaranteed, but it does give you choices. The choices you then make are in your control, but rather than increasing your material wealth there are many other choices you could make.

So, compared with previous years, I feel that I have moved much further towards my future happiness, and not just wasted another year.

As for 2009, well, I have promised to myself that I will get fit. It is definitely something that I have always wanted but never had the time to fit it in. But now I will fit it in, and I have joined the Gym at work in order to be able to be flexible around workload but also not sacrifice any of my time back home with the family. We shall see how this progresses, but it has started well.

I really want to finish at least a first draft of my book this year, but it takes so long that it may prove to be unrealistic. I want to start getting up earlier, and hopefully trying to write a blog in the morning before work. I have started doing this inconsistently, and I wouldn’t mind really making this habit stick.

It is also no surprise that I am a bit of a new-age hippy, and into the Eastern philosophies, and for this reason I really want to dedicate 10-15mins a day to meditation. I find that this really helps me to remain calm and keep things in perspective. It is easy to not do, but then it is only when everything gets on top of me that I remember to do it again. To make this a habit would be great.

So, here goes for 2009. I wish everyone all the best for the coming year, and hope that what ever promises or plans that people have made, they come true and bring you the happiness that you initially thought they would.