I am not my father

When most little boys start out in life's adventure many of us have looked up to and been taught and learnt from our dad's.  They tend to lay the foundations alongside our mum's to our first path in life, and are our role models. Well it started like that for me when I was young enough to remember, my dad was, to me, Superdad.

This is where it quickly changed and from a young age I was determined that everything wrong about my dad, would make me become everything he failed to become.  Now I look back and about the only good thing I remember was him popping me on his shoulders when I was tired.  My dad had a very big reputation in the 60's and 70's as being a hard-nut, gambler and crook.  This reputation followed him about so much that I had other children including my own little friends being told stories about him.  In the street I often heard whispers, "that's Ron Marquick's son, best leave him alone".

Now to some it may sound good having such a formidable figure of a dad, but not to me.  From a very young age I quickly understood where my mums unhappiness came from and at nights when laid in bed hearing her screaming, yes this was my dad hitting my mum, I even witnessed the poor woman being dragged across the landing by her hair.  She was always accused of having affairs with everybody from Terry the postman to Martin the Martian.  He timed her every movement, clocked her to and from the shops, and also kept note of every penny so she had to explain every bit of money spent.

My thoughts were why could this arsehole and control freak, who was doing this to my mum not get off his own idol backside and do these things?. No, I am sure the smug fat man got kicks from this.  Anyway back to me.  It became very apparent because I had not become a mini him, that I was deemed a failure in his eyes.  Did he come to a parents evening? No.  Did he attend a sports day? No.  All he ever uttered in between putting me down was how I was a girl and a pansy, and why was I not a fighter, a boxer, a trouble maker?

I had a brain and I knew right from wrong.  As I got older I tried to take some pressure away from my mums own personal torture.  When he was in a mood,  which was most nights I would back chat him to try and get him to focus on me instead of my mum.  This worked and even though I would never be a match for my father, my mum, although worried downstairs was getting some respite.  He wore me down in arguments even when I was right I was always wrong (if this makes sense).

Then on top of this would come my few beatings.  He once smacked me so hard across my legs it marked me very badly, so I showed him, I put shorts on and went to play with my friends outside.  Now his reputation was being tarnished by a boy, yes I had started to become a genius in mind games.

Some of you may wonder why my mum did not leave and take us with her.  Well in those days she would have lived in fear knowing that he would have hunted her down.  I would not like to think what he would have done to her. I also remember taking many trips home in police cars when aged between 4-8 years old as he would go places, mainly the social office, just looking to kick off, resulting in chairs and tables flung about in anger and police being called.

My Dad had to stop work in the late 70's early 80's due to falling down stairs whilst working as a taxi driver, back then you only had to sneeze to become disabled (in the dodgy way) and get away with it.  This is why I got hacked off that he had no interest in me or my schooling when I was young, but in hindsight it was nice not having him involved as it probably would have ruined me.

In the 60's he spent time inside for fraud yet again a big boast from him, even claiming he was in the scrubs at the same time as the Krays.  As I was growing up I was desperate to work and to make something of my life.  I left school when I was 14 years old as I was offered a part time job in the local cash and carry in Oxford.  Wow, a job, I truly was impressed at earning £56 a week, but every week whilst living at home I was forced into paying it all into the house, simply to feed us and also fund my dad's fag and gambling habit.

When I turned 18 I was offered full time worked and grabbed this with both hands.  By this time I was getting wiser, so when I got paid cash in a wage packet I would gently open and slide some money out.  I would never show him my wage slips and sure enough I started to get money hidden and actually for me. The only problem I had was buying stuff and hiding it.  Then came the going out with my friends to get drunk, my solution was to pretend to be at a mates all night drinking can's, again this worked.

I also remember our yearly family holidays and looking back at them they were quite awful.  My mum could not avoid the beatings and the arguing and neither could I avoid arguments with my dad.  We would spend half the holiday parked outside the bookies or at least half sat in the caravan listening to him watching racing, generally losing, then just wanting to kick off.

I could write and write and write but I think you get a picture of what a monster my dad was.  What has come out of this for me is that I respect women and hate hearing of any violence towards them.  I have a massive protective sheet around Karen and Issy.  I believe I am a fantastic husband and dad and I take time and interest in what my family do and I am very proud of my children's achievements.

Mine and my mums bond is fantastic, my dad passed away 14 years ago and my mum has since met a fabulous man who has gone on to become her husband and I can only thank him for putting happiness, belief, trust and respect and most of all love back into my mums life.  Sometimes I well up and cry at the thought of what my dad did, but that's in the past and this is now, we are all enjoying life as best we can and long may it continue.

Cherish what you have.  If you have found somebody you truly love then treat them with love and respect.  Don't be shy to hold hands, cuddle and kiss.  Even with children you can keep that flame, even though a tired one, brightly burning by just showing each other that you care.  Look back to the start of your journey together when you also had those butterflies, believe me when you are with the right person they never go away.

I still pop up in goosebumps on my arms with the simplest of things, a hair stroke a neck tickle etc, so be strong in life be yourself and most of all love what you have.

Thanks for reading it means so much to me. Gary x

Why won't he Sleep?

Well this post is focusing on the struggles for Karen and I and also for Samuel regarding his bedtime.

As in previous posts you will be aware of Samuel's 22q11 deletion syndrome and so this leads me to a more in depth insight into another challenge we have - bedtime.

Usually we start to approach bedtime by Karen asking Samuel to get himself ready, this is usually about 8:30pm which is a reasonable bedtime considering his disability and his massive need for at least 10 hours sleep.  Karen by this time has done special time and calm down time with Samuel, after Oliver and Isabella's have gone to bed.  Then at 8.30 Samuel is asked to pop his pull up pants on (another condition associated with 22q11 is bed wetting).

After a few cave boy style grunts in which boy child demands mum goes up with him and finally striking up a deal to pop up in 5 minutes he starts moving like a snail in reverse, and slower than a Stannah stair lift he eventually lands safely in planet bedroom.  Barely 3 minutes elapses and Samuel seems to come down quicker than a cat on a hot tin roof, with battering ram style he falls through the door, "mum mum" he bellows, "you said you were coming up".  Karen, to avoid in house riot takes Samuel back upstairs and does the goodnight routine again.

After 5-15 minutes we hear the pitter patter (thud thud) of the boy child.  We now know he is on the warpath to destruct the adults evening, which in Samuel's eyes seems to be a new covert mission.  So the fun begins (sarcasm).  Karen asks Samuel to go back to bed, "no" comes the reply, Samuel you need to go to bed, no he replies again, so the consequences kick in, Samuel if you do not go to bed then you have lost tomorrow's use of your netbook, still a refusal and this continues until we need a removal firm in as he has had everything confiscated for the following day.  At that point he would go upstairs, putting all the lights on, and sit there until eventually falling asleep.

We have scrambled, argued, agreed, disagreed, asked him, shouted at him and slowly but surely we noticed bedtime was getting worse.  Then came the massive dip, we had run out of so many ideas we asked Samuel what would keep him in bed and calm him and help him sleep.  Samuel's answer like a mad scientist but a sane one in the working had said a DVD please mummy, well puppy dog eyes and a flag of surrender from us we agreed, we wanted to try anything, so after the film had finished Karen went to turn the film off and so our new fun began.

Samuel came trotting down after 5 minutes and said he could not sleep and would not leave the front room unless mum went and curled up in bed with him.  Obviously mum refused.  We have 2 toddlers that nod by themselves so mum was not making a rod for her own back.  Samuel responded in gladiator style "then you shall not move me, I will fight till the end", and fight the little groat did.  We asked several times for him to return to his bed and got told no deal each time, this led us to try the silent treatment, which resulted in Samuel going hypo and noisy causing noise and chaos for 3-4 hours.

After we finally admitted defeat we decided to go to bed ourselves at midnight and sure enough cave boy scurried upstairs and into bed, after we had closed our door he was up and flicked his light on until I got up at 3 to go to the toilet.  This happened night after night and the demands got more and more, we were just at a total loss as how to deal with this and the later Samuel stays up it makes it an awful atmosphere in the morning as he refuses to get up and is angry and very aggressive.

Finally we had a date with the sleep clinic as we were at breaking point.  We needed help and like every good parent knows asking for help is a sign of strength and togetherness.  We did not want to keep going how we were, I must add in that one night Samuel had punched me in the mouth so yes it really had got that bad.

Our appointment arrived and Karen went to see Mr Sleep Doctor, he has agreed to come and survey things and see if we can some how arrive at a plan of action.  We hope so, we need it as does Samuel as the stress at times is so hard and Samuel will eventually become ill because of severe lack of sleep.

So I have added another chapter of Samuel's constant struggle with a disability that so few people know about or have any answers to. We as parents must keep plodding along and doing what we do best, that is never giving up on Samuel and always fighting to raise a tiny bit of awareness.

Thank you so much for reading it means the world to me..... Gary

Daddy's Humble Pie

After seeing my gorgeous daughter Isabella being born, I was very unlucky and got struck down with suspected swine flu.  This meant that for seven days after her birth I was in basic isolation in our bedroom and quite out of it.  After recovering and being able to integrate with my babies again I found that I was, without knowing, was giving Oliver more daddy time than Isabella.  I could not pinpoint this at the time but something was missing and I was baffled, after all my wife had provided me with the most gorgeous beautiful daughter.

I was stuck in a really funny mindset as I knew I loved my children all equally and yes we love them the same but also in peculiar ways a tad different, if that makes sense.  I was starting to understand with Oliver why I seemed to be doing everything to Oliver's call and whistle and putting Issy on the back burner.  I have a 10 year old son, Harry, who lives in Oxford as I left his mum when he was two. I can now see that I had become scared of rejection and being pushed away by Oliver as I knew I would be heading into uncharted territory with him once he got to two.  I had not done the potty training with Harry and had not been a big enough part of his life to have a say and help him develop a tad of his dads ways (lucky I hear you say).

I knew my daddy love and parenting skills had to change with Oliver because although at the time, that extra bit of t.v, the extra chunk of chocolate, the outstretched arms with cute eyes saying "pick me up daddy" as my legs are going to drop off scenario, that "lift me out of my buggy daddy as I need a cuddle and mum can push a £600 pound pram along the promenade empty", yes all of this I am guilty as charged and knew it had to stop.

So it was 4-5 months ago that the penny dropped and I realised that although I was not hurting my son I was teaching him and allowing him to drop into awful habits.  Plus I did not want Isabella watching and copying. Just to say mine and Isabella's bond has grown to such a massive one that it feels like the love and care and attention I have for my daughter could explode out of me at anytime!  It took me a while but we are bonded just the same as I am with Oliver and although Oliver still does get a bit more daddy attention, but I am working on that.

My first job to tackle was the picking up and carrying of Olly.  It had got to the stage where I may as well have had Velcro attached to me and, this was a) Making him very lazy and b) Sending out the wrong signal. Each time he whinged I would pick him up, a quick fix but only short term solution. Anyway as per ear bend from wife and the long pointed wagging index finger I stopped picking Oliver up every minute of every day. I must say that it took a long time, but he very quickly got used to daddy only picking him up if he had properly hurt himself or when we just wanted to share a random cuddle.  This also started straight away giving me some much needed Isabella time, which is just as magical as Oliver time.

My second issue to tackle was Olivers eating habits.  I truly believed that if Oliver had a mouthful of dinner and made no effort to eat anymore then it was fine and dandy for old chubby fingers me to pick his fork up and feed feed feed, but oh no, old pointy index finger got me again.  Karen explained how lazy Oliver had become with his eating now daddy was feeding him and how this again would affect his development.  My train of thought was that if I got him to eat then all was well.  Wifey was right though.  I left Oliver for a few nights and sure enough this excellent little boy with his table manners and lovely feeding skills was now back up and running.  Hooray listen number two and low and behold success number two.

My last task to tackle is my inability to say no to Oliver.  For example, Oliver being the eldest of my two children living with me had become very territorial with his toys.  He will shout as if being murdered when Isabella tries to join in, or attempts to pick a toy up, and my way was to give Oliver the toy he screamed for and palm Issy off with anything that was within reach.  By this time I turned to Mrs Marquick, her of pointy waggy finger, and she told me we needed to start by teaching Olly to share.  This worked a treat the next time he screamed that Issy had taken from him I asked him to share and for him to pick a toy for Issy, although this started as a bogey or paperclip lol, it has progressed that Olly will now share very good toys with Issy and he also knows she won't ruin them.

It is all still a massive work in progress with Oliver but my word by accepting help and advice from Karen my gorgeous wife we are slowly starting to notice massive steps forward by Oliver and he is learning slowly all the right things are the best things. It will take time to iron out the bad habits that I have instilled in him, but please remember if you have children the correct and sometimes what seems hard road is the best road. It works, believe me our house is settling into a much more productive and happy house now that daddy is no longer afraid of being rejected.  Children flourish from being taught the right things/ways. Thanks for reading G.

Fresh Start for the Pools

Having been a proud Poolie (Hartlepool United) fan for as many years as I can remember nobody can doubt that for such a small club with limited resources, we have had lots of lows (endless reapplying to the football league for re-election) and a few (cough cough) relegation's.  

We have also gathered a nice bit of credit over the last 10 or so years, playoff final although a defeat was a massive high and plus for everybody associated with the club.  Every Poolie will have been as proud punch to have got into the playoffs as this meaning the season had been a lofty finish.  We also had our promotions; both our last two we were so close to capturing the league title but still a huge punching above our weight achievement.

Now I live 327 miles away from The Vic and have a very young family so my forays these days are away games which are within striking distance (usually a hundred miles away max) the rest of my following is via my Pools Player which I subscribe to each year, although the new console is not great and not without its problems, but there is excellent commentary from the ever bubbly Mark Simpson.  On top of this my financial outlay always borders ridiculous in my bank statements, eyes on what I spend each season on Pools.  Generally me and the boys both have home and away shirts.  This season me and Karen (wifey) and kids have sponsored club legend, Club captain and all round fantastic guy Ritchie Humphreys away shirt.  We have had the honour on a few occasions of meeting Ritchie and he has always taken the time to have a quick chat and never grumbles at having photos taken with us.  Our wall in the front room is a Poolie shrine with pictures of various players and a fantastic framed card of the players autographs.  Also me and my two toddlers have two bricks on the centenary wall.

Our expenses to visit our away games has run into hundreds, so we really are south coast massive Hartlepool fans. So this leads me to give a quick insight into the modern Hartlepool side and manager choice.  Our squad when you dissect it has, on paper, some fantastic players worthy on their best days of getting into a lot of peoples this era Poolie squads.  For Instance we have Scott Flinders, he has emerged into a fantastic keeper for us, Jack Baldwin will surely play in the Championship, if not higher, Peter Hartley and Sam Collins both on their days tanks and solid centre backs, Ritchie Humphreys Legend, Paul Murray solid no nonsense wears his heart on his sleeve (wish he was 10 years younger) and Tony Sweeney engine and eye for goal.  James Poole oozes talent and just needs a string of games to show it, Luke James is a rough diamond but is so talented it is scary, Andy Monkhouse now is a really steady workhorse and Simon Walton is going to be class for us as long as he gets a fair crack of the whip.  This is to mention but a few.

So on their best days we all know these footballers can do it.  We have seen this from them all. Now after a fantastic start to last season (9 unbeaten I believe) we hit an awful slump and lost countless games at home and this cost Mick Wadsworth his job.  Micky Barron and Ritchie took over the ship and in my eyes did a blooming good job with Luke James bursting on the scene being a massive plus point.  Our next appointment to everybody's delight including mine was all round nice guy and in some peoples eyes a near God as far as Poolie managers goes, Mr Neale Cooper.  Now I have a strict no matter how much you like a guy, in football going back for second dibs at a club very rarely works, but I crossed my fingers and hoped.  Cooper in all his 11 months back, for whatever reason, just could not work his magic.  Who knows what went on and we can all guess and speculate but not for the want of trying things just did not work.  I remember being at the Wycombe game last season and it was the most lacklustre performance I had seen from a ~Pools side, combined with the fact Wycombe were fighting for safety and also had what seemed like 654 loan players popping up everywhere, we were well and truly drubbed 5-0.  My only consolation was that it was a scorching hot afternoon and they did half decent food.  

After that game I remember telling Karen that I felt we were on a slippery slope and sure enough our season just petered out.  This season we have only added 3 players to our squad but I felt with the players who came in we would have a pretty decent squad to really push on and have a right go at the league this season.  On the downside our form this season has been nothing short of **** (well you can fill your own blanks).  This led to Neale Cooper doing what we all knew was coming and he resigned. Short-term Micky Barron has been put in charge until we (swiftly) in my eyes put a new manager in the hot seat.  Again we will all have our own ideas who we want at the helm.  I would like to see Phil Brown come in.  We have already proven for whatever reason after Saturdays game we have found a bit of our Never Say Die Spirit.  We have a long way to go but I just have a feeling some fresh ideas the right starting 11 and we can get out of this mess.

You may call me stupid but believe me if we can get going in the right direction we can still salvage something from this season.  So lets do what us Poolies do best, lets stick together and support the lads like we always do and lets as a collective unit get out of this mini slump and quick.

My final two things are:

1. We need to keep Noble and Wyke for the season and; 
2. This is my modern era Poolie select squad. 

GK Dimi 
RB Micky Barron
CB Graeme Lee
CB Michael Nelson
LB Hugh Robertson
LM Ritchie Humphreys
CM Tommy Miller
CM Mark Tinkler
RM Tony Sweeney
CF Joel Porter
CF Adam Boyd

Subs: Flinders, Collins, Murray, Brown, E Williams

Just remember once a Poolie always a Poolie

Poolies are born not made

Samuel and Me - Part 2

So as promised Part 2 of Samuel and me.  If you've read Part 1 you've had a tiny explanation as to Samuel's disability 22q11 Deletion Syndrome.  I would like to now share a few more things that affect Samuel and obviously us as a family.

As we found out Samuel is not a naughty boy, he is a child with a disability and he just struggles to get by as do so many other children with the same and similar disabilities.  It is far too easy for outsiders to assume children with various invisible disabilities are naughty, why don't you just come and ask if it bothers you that much.  So many parents experience this and it is a shame.

Samuel can get very hyperactive at times, particularly when excited about something, although tiredness is also a huge factor.  At night he can yo-yo up and down stairs for hours before finally giving in to sleep.  This then knocks on to the following morning as then Samuel refuses to rise from bed as he is still wiped out.  What follows is growling, shouting, huffing and puffing and sometimes hitting out.  Once he has dragged his body out of bed it then becomes a battle to get him into the shower and he has to shower as most nights he will have wet the bed, although recently medication is giving us a few dry nights.  Samuel is not keen on cleanliness for some reason, but once in the shower he is not too bad, although he has to be reminded to use shower gel.  So just getting him up and showered can take up to 45 minutes for what would generally be a 5 minute job.

Now Samuel also has the "fluff syndrome", that is he can be distracted by a piece of fluff, so this causes us to often have to repeat things 30 times and we cannot ask Samuel to do two things at once as his brain just would not process either yet alone one.  We don't ask Samuel to do any chores apart from bringing his pull up pants (due to the wet beds) down and to bin them, plus sometimes to tidy his room. 

Another habit of Samuel's is that he has a tendency to leave me a mud monkey log in the toilet!  He tends not to wipe, flush or wash his hands, and we have to constantly remind him, but this can be met with anger as he doesn't like doing it.  He just doesn't understand the importance of hygiene.  Plus, its nearly always me that gets my eyes burnt out by the poo odour! 

Samuel also has difficulties in showing empathy and appreciation.  He does appreciate things that are done for him, but as soon as anything is done he quickly wants to move onto the next thing and he perhaps doesn't act or show emotion as would be expected.  This can be deflating at the time but you have to quickly remember this is not deliberate.  One such example is that when we went to watch Hartlepool United last easter as a family for a special weekend, and we managed to on top of everything else to get Samuel to be a mascot.  Now to all other children that are into football this is a once in a lifetime experience and you would expect them to talk about this with everybody family/friends/school, and to show real excitement and appreciation.  Samuel loved every moment and did himself and us proud (we took some great pics), but as soon as we got home it was like it was forgotten and he just was wanting whatever was next.

A massive plus to Samuel's personality is just how much he loves his family.  He loves caring for and helping look after his brother and sister, and he would often bend over backwards to do so.  It seems as though he has a mature side to him when asked to entertain or just generally help with the little ones and this is just a joy to watch.

Now as this will be spread over a few posts I want to now share just a small bit about the school side of things.  Karen applied for a Statement of Special Education Needs for Samuel after he started school, and after a battle with his school, she managed to achieve this for Samuel.  This enabled for him to have a teaching assistant at school for 10 hours a week.  This was put into place at his first school, so at just 5 years old he was already needing help.  Karen knew that the statement had to be reviewed every year and she also knew of what a massive job she had to do just to ensure Samuel kept his statement and thus the support of a teaching assistant.  Karen managed like the Supermum she is to keep getting it renewed each year and by doing this getting the help Samuel needed just to get by as best he could.  Now considering as each school year passed Samuel dropped further behind his peers, Karen managed to get Samuel up to 20 hours per week, and his school were putting in additional support on top of the statemented hours.  To all intense and purposes he was getting nearly full time support.  Our next massive task and challenge was to try and get Samuel accepted for a special needs school as Samuel would have just shrunk without trace once he got to secondary school age.  Also already evident at school was the mainly verbal bullying that had started, and this was wearing Samuel down.  After yet much fight and various reports to try and help get Samuel into special school we finally got the news we wanted early this year and he was accepted into a local special school.

As a family we were just so excited about this.  Samuel has been at his new school for three weeks and the difference in him is fantastic school wise.  He loves it.  So any parents out there thinking can we/ can't we, push for special school and don't be put off my the stigma, please do it your child will flourish and they are what is important. 

Anyway Samuel's disability will never go away and certain aspects may get worse, but we as a family we are here to help, love and support him all the way through his life.  I will stop here as I still have more but hey we have time.

In Part 3 I will explain about Samuel's speech and language difficulties, and the difficulties he faces with communication and understanding; the ups and downs that I have with Samuel and his obsessive behaviour that can, at times, drive us up the wall (except the last time Karen told Samuel he was driving her up the wall, he replied with a simple "but I can't drive mummy").

Please keep supporting me by reading about this amazing little fella.  Thanks

Samuel and Me - Part 1

Samuel is my step-son, he is 9 years old and he has a disability called 22q11 deletion syndrome.

This to you and me means that Samuel is missing a tiny piece of Chromosome 22.  Just by this tiny piece missing the list of health and learning problems is massive.  22q11 is the 2nd most common chromosome syndrome after Downs Syndrome, but unlike Downs Syndrome no two children with 22q11 have the same symptoms.

Here are just some of the problems Samuel has; Sub-mucous cleft palate, as to which he has had two operations; speech and language difficulties; short stature; poor muscle tone; he has a few tiny different facial features to you or me such as slightly more than normal sticky out ears and almond shaped eyes; Samuel is also behind with his education and although he is now in Year 5 his learning capabilities are I would say anything between Year 1 and 2 equivalent; Samuel has behavioural problems and this can range from simply not listening all the way up to showing violence so both ends of the spectrum; Samuel also wets the bed and this is due to Samuel's brain being unable like me or you to switch on the I need a wee button.  On top of this he is now extremely difficult to settle to sleep and often awake until 10-11pm, but once asleep would sleep through a bomb blast so this does not help.

So there is just a small starter to what this remarkable little man has to deal with on a daily basis.  Now I am going to share with you my story of my role as a step-dad to Samuel, a young boy with a disability just getting by day by day.  This is my post on how truly difficult at times it can be and how we struggle every day with what Samuel throws at us as a family.  Also with me being Samuel's step-dad.  No two days are the same with Samuel, or me come to that.  I am not ashamed to admit I so often fall into the all to familiar trap like so many people and when Samuel does something wrong my first instinct is to bawl and yell and go mad at him just as if he was a normal 9 year old.  My reason being unless you know Samuel you could be mistaken for looking at him and thinking he looked normal.  Well most of Samuel's problems are in his engine room, his Brain.  He operates in a totally different way to you and me.

So I shall take you back to the start and share with you my ups and downs of life with Samuel.  I will be blogging in several parts because I find this heart wrenching.  I will be truthful and hopefully just give an eye opener and a small bit of help to any other step parents out there, be it of a child with a disability or a child with none.

When I was in the early stages of talking to my now wife, Karen, one thing she asked of me was to take a small read on 22q11 as she informed me her son had this disability.  Well as you know so many people struggle at the thought of having somebody elses child/children in their lives let alone a child with a disability and I feel everybody operates on a different level.  My first thought was yes of course I am going to Google and have a read on this condition as I had to admit I had never heard of it (now I'm nearly as expert as Karen).  Well what a read and it seemed I was quite natural at taking quite a lot of knowledge on board, and informed Karen that I had read up on 22q11.  She was truly touched that I had taken time out to even read up on this.  Anyway things progressed and we had a first date (previous post) in our lovely petrol station, and following that Karen gave me the thumbs up and we arranged a second date.

It was Karen's weekend with Samuel (he has every other one with his dad) and I said this was fine.  So I turned up on the Saturday morning to pick up Karen and Samuel (the borrower).  I was bricking it and I have no disability, so just what was going through Samuel's mind I will never know.  Anyway, when Samuel said hello to me it quickly became apparent that Samuel, considering he was 5 years old, was very difficult to understand because of his speech difficulties and I realised I was going to have to quickly tune into him.  Now the worst thing in the world you can do is poo poo a child or adult with speech problems by just nodding your head and saying yes to anything, it is so much better asking a few times until you understand and it also helps to tune in to what is being said.  So, our first date with Samuel in tow was a trip to Poole Park where there is a play area call Gus Gorillas.  We stayed there a while and let Samuel gallop about for a bit whilst we had a hot chocolate.  We then headed off to a Harvester restaurant in Bournemouth and this is where I had my first insight into Samuel's behaviour.

Karen had brought along some toy soldiers to keep Samuel out of mischief.  We had a lovely meal and had asked for the bill.  We had decided to go halves and as Karen got her purse out Samuel snatched the money and started dashing about, close to us but not close enough to catch (slippery little eel), after managing to finally taser Samuel and ground him we paid and left.  Now this was just a tiny insight and start to my chapter in life with Samuel there is so much more to come but this will do as a start so please read and hopefully I can give you an insight into mine and Samuel's life together.  What you have to realise is that Samuel, just to get by each day, has to put in a months worth of effort, so please come back and read part 2.

Army, Trains and 1983

I grew up on a housing estate called Blackbird Leys in Oxford.  It was a massive council housing estate with a few private homes (posh folk).  I had a very strict Dad but a very non strict mum.  Anyway I had reached my school summer holidays yet again and had decided that it was time me and my band of merry men had fun! (we were all oddballs in our own special ways, were just perfect for each other and grew a bond of togetherness which nobody would understand). 

Certain parents did not like certain ones of us but we did not care (he's bad news that boy). 

Anyway, it was the summer of 1983.  A summer we wouldn't forget, and one where we would embark on the most wonderful 6 weeks (cue Stand by Me theme tune).  This would last for years and we would become very well known by lots of dodgy people (street cred). 

We lived near a local train line which transported Rover cards to and from the factory.  The good thing for us was that there were loads of trees, bushes and stuff.  I woke up early and within ten minutes had rounded up the "star wars" gang.  We pondered for a split second and then decided to play "army".  This would involve us trawling through the undergrowth for any sticks that in our minds resembled guns.  Once done we split into groups and went off in opposite directions to make camp.  We used to cut through bushes with cheap penknifes and lay various bits of cardboard down.

Once in the camps we were totally in the zone, we would work plans out how to ambush the other team, never sure of the rules, but we used to make a ner ner ner ner ner sound (not ambulance but machine gun sound) then you would have to shout danny (or whoever it was) your dead.  The corpse would then drop to the floor after taking a barrage of fake gunshots and wait for a team member to tag him alive.  Quite how this worked I will never know, anyway my squadron were rampnt we only had Stan (Jason) left to kill when platoon style he came hurtling out of a bush yelling train.  We knew what this meant and took our positions.  A car transporter run train was coming.  We hid and waited, the train came within touching distance and once past we started sprinting after it, our goal was the oil filled lamp on the back, we had never missed one yet. It had become a status symbol between us as to who was gonna get it.  As we approached the train everything seemed to go into slow motion and from the back of the train a brute of a man appeared and was waving a stick about.  Not put off by this we jinked and dodged to the train and my friend was just pulling the lamp from the holder when he shouted gun.

Gun!  We thought he must be joking, but no he was deadly serious.  We had the lamp and was running away like maniacs with this mad man taking pot shots at us, one by one we dived for cover.  The area was ours, we knew the undergrowth, one by one we started spotting each other.  Quick Gary headcount 5-6-wait one missing, it was then I heard a scream, everything went silent and our friend Steven half dropped through the bushes where we were.  I've been shot he said and sure enough there was blood everywhere we were in turmoil.  Where have you been shot I said, my arse he replied.  I took it upon myself to look at said backside and sure enough his jeans were blood splattered, on further inspection luckily for us I realised he had been shot with a salt pellett gun.  We knew he would be ok but had to get him home, so his mum  could carefully pull the salt pelletts from his bum one by on.

We took a pact that we would not say how when or where it happened but from that day on me and my friends became a family unit. We set off on some incredible adventures that year and never looked back.  Summer of 1983 was when I made true friends.

My Gambling Addiction

I want to share a massive life changer with you guys, so here goes.

Throughout my childhood I was in and around greyhounds (my family owned loads) and horse racing each and every day because my Dad had a liking or gambling.  He would gamble everything to an extent that homemade chips and beans on toast were nearly always on the menu as he would have gambled every spare penny.

My old man had become what turned out to be a right nasty piece of work.  He had been in prison for fraud and numerous times was arrested for anything and everything.  Anyway, one Saturday afternoon I decided I wanted to plce a bet on the horses and would spend some of my hard earned wages on this.  I had a couple of winners and made a bit of profit and low and behold I was hooked.  I quickly got myself a job with a local greyhound trainer and hey presto I was away.

In the beginning I started off gambling a few pounds here and there and at first it was fun and I found I won a few times (beer tokens) for going out with my friends.  My friends and I decided to go as far as buying a greyhound and getting more involved.  We paid two grand for a a 16 month old greyhound pup and put it into training.  After various time trials and fitness regimes this dog was put into a race called an A8 and all was well.  The trainer told us to fill our boots as our dog would not get beat on Saturday. 

It was tuesday and I was skint, wow I thought time to make some real cash. I got on the phone to my bank and put five grand into my account via a loan.  The plan to keep it quiet from Dad.  I would bet it on the dog, pay off the bank and bingo a nice profit too.  After managing to get my wad on the dog on Saturday everybody can guess yep, he got beat!   My life was in turmoil and I was in so much debt and no way to get out.

Over the space of the next 10 years I borrowed, lied and got into more debt and lost (now I see it as an escape) a marriage which also included my son Harry.  The gambling was relentless it had gripped me and taken over me.  If I ever won anything I very quickly lost 10 times that amount.  Wages were gone in a day and by that time I was on £155 a day as a self employed courier so my gambling and losses were astronomical but hey. I did not care.  That was until one day I woke up.  I had hit rock bottom.  I looked awful, was skint and unsurprisingly I had lost everybody close to me. 

Realisation had hit home this had to stop.  With my last gasp of mental strength I packed a suitcase and walked 5 miles to my mums all in the hope she would give me a final chance.  I pleaded with her saying that I wanted to change and slowly claw my life back.  My mum agreed.

I handed over my bank cards and everything that was anything to do with money and asked my mum to treat me like a kid.  She put me on spending money of £5 a week, and it took me just over a year, but with some serious hard work and love and help from mum and her then (boyfriend) now husband I finally came out the other side and had beat the gambling addiction.  I regained a daddy bond with Harry, I regained my friends and I regained my life.  Gambling affected and controlled me so much but I have beaten it.  This is why I have become a great husband, dad and all round good guy again.  People do not realise the effects and how bad gambling can be, but if you have anybody in your family getting in deep then help them asap, it is a life wrecker.

Bournemouth v Hartlepool 15 September 2012

As an away day fan of Hartlepool United am going to Blog about my experiences at each of the games I manage to get to.  In each blog I am hoping to do a short review of the ground, flood (if I eat any) and staff, and also the matchday programme.  I am also hoping to do a short question and answer section with a Hartlepool player, staff member and a Poolie fan, plus a quick report of the match.

So here goes:

Bournemouth - Hartlepool 15th September 2012

The game was held in Bournemouth at the newly named Goldsands Stadium.  The ground is a nice and tidy little ground with the only downside of having 3 sides.  The food was standard pies and hotdogs and hot and cold drinks.  The matchday programme was ok and I thought it had a nice bit on the Pools in it.  The staff at the ground were helpful and polite.  The ticket price on the turnstile was £20.00.

So, for my first question and answer section I have been lucky enough to ask James Poole from the Hartlepool squad.

Add caption

Question 1.  Do you think Pools are good enough for all 3 points this game?

Answer 1. Yes of course.  We showed last year we are capable of a result and all the lads are thinking exactly the same.  Bournemouth are a strong side but we will go into it going for the win.

Question 2.  If staying fit and in the team on a regular basis what would you like your seasons goal target?

Answer 2.  I just want to stay fit this season and if I do the goals will come.  I don't set numbers exactly but I would like to aim for about 15 goals this season.

Question 3.  Where honestly do you think Pools will finish in the league this season?

Answer 3.  I think we have a stronger side than last season and the aim is always to improve on last season.  I thought we were better than last seasons finish so top half has to be our aim.

Question 4.  Finally do you have any pre match superstitions?

Answer 4.  I hop onto the pitch with my left foot for some strange reason.  Don't know why but it has stuck.  It is the only one I have.

I also asked our resident mascot H'angus the Monkey, and Hartlepool fan Kayleigh Thompson 3 questions.
Question 1. What is your score prediction for Bournemouth v Hartlepool this match?

Answer 1.
H'angus - 2-1 Pools
Kayleigh Thompson - 3-2 Pools

Question 2.  Who is your favourite Hartlepool player?

Answer 2.
H'angus - All of them!
Kayleigh Thompson - Paul Murray or Peter Hartley I can't decide

Question 3.  Where do you think we will finish this season?

Answer 3.
H'angus - Top 10
Kayleigh Thompson - In or around the playoffs I hope

My final questions went to Hartlepool Press Officer and Pools Commentator Mark Simpson.

Question 1. What ground are you most looking forward to visiting with Pools this season?

Answer 1. I've not been to Portsmouth so I'm looking forward to the trip to Fratton Park, even though it will be a long one.  I'm also looking forward to going back to Coventry because that's a really fantastic stadium to visit.

Question 2. Do you think we can keep up our recent success against Bournemouth and come away with all 3 points.

Answer 2.  I hope so.  We've done well there in recent times and scored some pretty spectacular goals too.  I think we'll have to be strong in defence but I fancy us to nick a goal or two on the break, so I'll go for a 2-1 win.

Question 3.  If James Poole stays fit, do you believe if he's played up front he can be the answer to our goal scoring problem?

Answer 3.  Definitely.  He's scored some great goals since joining the club so hopefully there are plenty more to come.  He's got loads of talent.

Question 4. Where do you predict Pools will finish this season?

Answer 4.  I'll say 10th.  Steady progress has to be our aim and if we can finish in the top half and build again next year that would be ideal.

So yesterdays game ended AFC Bournemouth 1-1 Hartlepool United

The game did not have many chances first half and a well organised and solid, hard working Pools team kept the Cherries at bay.  Bournemouth were greeted with a few boo's by their own fans at half time so I think in a way testament to Pools on stifling one of this seasons stats as one of the sides who have created loads of chances in each game.  The second half and Pools looked a threat on the break and played some good football of their own, with the Cherries putting Pools under pressure but looking out of ideas it was Pools who took the lead in the 73rd minute.  Evan Horwood unfairly tackled in the box and the returning Simon Walton, who I thought had a great game, calmly slotted then penalty away, but with nearly the last kick of the ball Matt Tubbs finished from close range to give the hosts an unlikely share of the spoils.  A fantastic all round team performance from pools to make a good Bournemouth side look nothing more than average.

Simon Walton scoring from the spot

A massive thanks to James Poole, Mark Simpson, H'angus the Monkey and super Hartlepool fan Kayleigh Thompson for helping with my Q and A's this week.

Our World did not End

Me and my friends had been doing the Oxford drinking circuit for many years.  We had in our younger years sworn an oath that even when the inevitable happened (women) came into our sights we would still get together on a weekly basis and as we got older fortnightly.  We stuck to this as a friends pact should never be broken (not where drink is involved anyway).  Our antics were what seemed legendary and most mornings after the laughs were unforgettable. 

Now one such evening comes to mind and how we squeezed such mayhem, fun, drunkeness, flirting and just general lads behaviour I will never know, I can only assume old father time had stopped then put the night on slow mo as our 8 hours drinking seemed to last a week.

The date was the 31st of December 1999 and yes the night when the world would go pop, so me and the band of merry men had stuck our heads together and well in advance purchased tickets for the big and busy pubs and also our finish up club.  So we met at 7pm in the Antiguity Hall, a student pub, none of us were students, but it was always good for a game of pool and some banter with ye olde bike with a basket riding, duffle coat wearing uni and student folk.  So as usual at porsche speed we zoom a couple of beers down our necks and start plotting a great evening, already my friend Danny (mr 20 pints darts belly) is struggling, "food" he says "I need food".  Blimey Dan it's only 7.30pm and you look like casper the ghost, right lads lets get a jig on and get into Old Orleans (plan).  No sooner had we stepped onto the pavement and old mother sick was rearing her head, Danny is vomiting and trying to do so discreetly, "Dan" we ask "have you been sick?".  Now this seriously is a guy who does handle beer like a madman "nope" he says as it finishes dribbling from his mouth and is wiped into his brown (yep brown) leather jacket.

So as we make our way to Old Orleans with a now empty and raring to go stay puff giant it was full steam ahead, to the bar and the Pernod shots begin.  Two and gone as by this time my friend has managed to nab an aussie hat with corks attached to it and has become the worst sounding oxonian/aussie ever.  On into Yates and its wall to wall with (pardon the wording) top notch totty and a dance floor (yes totty).  We have 3 beers in quick time and start doing some of what can only be described as a group of MFI wardrobes moving about in a really wooden fashion "dancing".  Don't know what happened but we had some women flock around us and start the old handbag dance.  We dance we sing a bit and most of all start early on the new year kisses.  Very even start apart from Jason the Gigolo who is like a rampant animal frothing at the mouth like he has smelt blood.  "Haha, 10" he shouts as we leave the pub, cough cough 3 I quietly say.  This guy is not just a kissing machine he is Oxfords shagging machine (nice magnet to have). 

So we decide to do our next walk to a posh wine bar called Raouls but on the way the customary wee's were needed.  We took a short cut along the canal barge alley and started like idiots slashing in bushes etc.  Well my friend Simon is now being captain on a canal barge and without thinking we have unmoored it and pushed with our feet and off it floats.  Now Simon is in turmoil as the owner realises it is moving and like a pop up pirate his head appears, now Tom Daley style Simon without thinking is pushing through 3 reverse pikes with twist and he is in up to his knees in the drink(water).  "B**t**ds" he shouts as we sprint off at speed into our next haunt.  Now stud boy has set his sights firmly on a tidy looking brunette at the bar, by this time though Jason is done, he has a fork in him he is cooked, so he perches his bum next to her and orders a vodka.  Before he's even had 2 mouthfuls and his sentence is finished he slumps forward and gently ends up head perched on her breasts.  Well that was eviction city and as we climbed the steps out of there, we knew our wingman was done and dusted, so with a handful left the nightclub the Old Fire Station was calling, tickets out and in we went, ready for midnight.

As it was seeing in the new year a mass of food had been laid on, then the final hurrah, lets dance boy's, and so drinks in hand we hit the dancefloor and danced like no other (I mean no other aswell).  Anyway eventually they announce we can attack the food and they could well have been awful words in hindsight, as somebody had thought that a lot of cheese was a good idea (babybels).  Billy gathered these up and was like a gatlin gun, babybels everywhere.  Rolling on to midnight and we were still just able to see the bing bong Big Ben in.  We had by now kissed everybody and just to make sure kissed them again, even some rogue boobs were shown to us wahooooooo breasts yay.  Anyway we had got through the night and seen in the new year, the new millennium and the world did not crumble.  I used to love my drinking and stupidness with my friends and only we will truly laugh with what the true extent of our younger years were, but once again thanks for reading.

What a 10 days then 1

Well in a nutshell my last ten days have been challenging to say the least.  I am 40 now and pretty active, wife (nudge nudge) and my toddlers Olly and Issy keep me busy, plus the boy child step-son Samuel.

Anyway I had been waiting for xray results on hip pain I had been having and that was worsening by the day.  Now while I hoped it was just a trapped nerve or something I never bargained on what my phone call had in store, Osteoarthritis of the right hip.  After attending an appointment with the doctor he told me my hip was shot to pieces and that of a 65-70 year old.  Well although there are so many worse things in life this news hit me like a hammer.  The doctor has referred me to physio as this can help and change how I move.  At the end of this is an appointment with a hip specialist and what I would think will lead to a hip replacement.  Now while this will give me a better hip it will put me out of action for at least 6 months.  I have already had to cut my courier work by half because of the pain and secondly it limits my mobility to interact with the babies.

Then a few days later I get hammer blow number two, and it's from my son Harry who lives in Oxford with his Mum.  Now after a few minutes talking with him I knew things were not right and sure enough he started mentioning things to me that his mother had been twisting his little mind with.  Spouting things that a) he should not be told, and b) so many false accusations.  However, Harry is at a stage where he lives with his mum and listens and believes everything that she tells him, and I am the ogre.  Harry's mum started to twist Harry's mind not long after I had told Harry that Karen and I were expecting a baby (Oliver), but even before that she had never painted me in a positive light.  After having to explain myself to a ten year old, which even if I could talk I had no answers against the lies, I then heard the words "I hate you dad, do not ever phone again, you have lost a son".  Now before anyone says "he will come round", I have to beg to differ.  He is in such a bad place with his mum I have no chance.

Then, blow number 3.  Two days ago my mum was whisked into hospital doubled over in severe stomach pain.  Her husband rang to inform us and said that the doctors were going to perform a scan as they felt it might be kidney stones.  Now, my mum has a history of stomach problems and having lost my father with a problem in his stomach whereby a growth got to such a size his organs had no chance of continuing to function and he passed away some 14 years ago, I was naturally very worried. 

So, its been a pretty poo 10 days, then today came the "then 1".  My mum his home and feeling more comfortable, although the outcome was inconclusive.  Also, we had results back from a blood test for Oliver and it came back with an all clear.

After a torrid 10 days Karen and I gave each other a kind of "we love each other so much" look and I took today as a massive victory and step in the right direction.

Harry is still not talking to me and Arthur (osteoarthritis) won't go away, but everybody must keep believing in what they do have, and the one thing I have is an amazing family and a whole lot of fight.

Living with wonder woman

Now whilst all of us parents do fantastic jobs, I live with Wonder Woman (although she keeps refusing to wear blue starry pants and a gold headband), my wife,  Karen.

I have watched, studied and learnt how this wonderful woman relentlessly battles everyday for the minimal and at times no praise or appreciation.  Her son, Samuel, from her first marriage is 9 years old and has a disability called 22q11 deletion syndrome (please google it).  Then we have our 2 little monkeys together, Oliver (2) and Isabella (1).  Now whilst I limp along (literally since having osteoarthritis of the hip) as best I can to help my wife, my jobs are tiny in comparison.  My wife works not just a morning or afternoon or evening, but all day from dusk til dawn.

Our mornings go like this; Isabella wakes at 6-6.30 am and likes to be taken out of her cot to join mummy and daddy in the big bed!  She does this to stop mummy and daddy having cuddles (wink wink), and therefore performs toddler kung fu until we surrender and get up to serve breakfast.  Oliver is a light sleeper but sleeps solidly from 7pm to 7am if not disturbed.  He recently has moved from cot to bed and his perfect sleep has continued without any issues!  Anyway, enough gloating, so we all get up at 7am for breakfast.  Well, except Samuel, he is woken at 7am and Karen asks him to get up and shower before getting dressed for school and coming down for breakfast.  Hmmm, as we serve breakfast to the little ones still no sound of Samuel getting up.  Karen has to repeat and repeat to Samuel to get up and shower.  Eventually the cheek and back chat starts "doh I am getting up" (this is usually uttered at about 7.25am), Karen will ask Samuel to shower very quickly as his school bus comes at 8am prompt.

Quite often this is when Samuel's anger surfaces.  He cries most mornings.  He just doesn't get the wake up routine, and probably most of this is down to his 22q11.  When Karen tells him that he will miss breakfast if he doesn't hurry this is usually met with more screams and complaining of having to get up so early.  Everything becomes everyone elses fault (not the fact that he refused to sleep until 11pm).

Eventually after the battle Sid the Sloth finally appears downstairs like he has been on the drink the night before.  The lack of sleep the night before really taking its toll.  The whole refusal to sleep is where I particularly admire my wife's patience.  Samuel generally appears each evening after bed time with a whole manner of excuses why he can't go to sleep.  "Mum there is shooting outside" (we live in an OAP ridden village), "Mum I feel ill" (hmm never mentioned that whilst tucking into chocolate after dinner), "Mum are you ok?" (no, your evil step-dad is forcing me to watch football).  The list is endless, but always repeated.  Anyway, its often gone 10.30 before he is finally in the land of nod.  It may not seem late, but to some children with 22q11 its very detrimental to their behaviour as they need their sleep.

Of course each day Wonder Woman has to look after the twins of doom (our toddlers, not twins really but act like it at times), and of course wifey has to put up with me moaning about my newly diagnosed friend Osteo(Arthur)itis of the hip.  The twins of doom may look all sweet and innocent, but they have become very much daddy's girl and boy, so simple chores become difficult for mummy, and Wonder Woman doesn't have a car and our bus service is shocking, so she takes the toddlers to stay and play sessions and is also doing an early years course to help with the 3 amigo's.  On top of that she is a very proud and very good cook.  She cooks some absolutely delicious and healthy food for us all.  She also keeps the house in check and ensures that we all have clean clothes.  I feel at times I should do much much more. 

There is loads I have left out, but will come back to it in later blogs.  I truly do live with Wonder Woman, Supermum, Fantastic Wife and my Soulmate and Best Friend.  I would be lost without this woman and would like to say to my wife, Karen, I love and respect you and truly appreciate and thank you for your continuous and unselfish work for us all. x

My 3 lucky escapes

The cute curly haired toddler

When people look back and think of their first childhood memories they are probably not often reminded of a one woman tirade (my mum) to wipe my cute little curly haired body from the planet.  

This is my story of how she nearly achieved this:

Attempt No: 1

I must have only been about 3 when I remember in the good old days everybody would have strip washes in the bowl.  Anyway my mum called me into the kitchen, "Gadge" she shouted (my nickname).  I toddled into the kitchen unaware of what "Damien" was plotting against me.  I put my arms up and my wonderful mummy lifted me onto the draining board and smiled, she told me to stay still as I needed a wash.  Mum could not go 5 minutes without sparking a fag up and as she turned to get one me like a good boy decided to toe dip into the water and get washing for mum. 

But oh no! Devious mummy had (she claims) forgotten to empty the scalding hot water from the twin tub and as I dipped my feet in "ooooooouuuuuucccccccchhhhhhhh".....my legs were burnt.  After a trip to the doctors and cream applied to my little crow like legs I was gonna make it.

Attempt No: 2

So we move onto the next episode of near death and amazing again my mum is involved.  Whilst dodgy dad was on his way home from work mummy dearest has decided it was ok to leave a bag of concrete type hard boiled sweets within striking distance of her little adorable toddler (me).  Well like any child would do I choose to try one of these, of course I would and without thought zipped a colourful sweet into my mouth.  Yummy lets see if I can swllow this whole (or did mum dare me), again denial to this very day from her.  Well i have zonked the sweet down the hole but my bad luck the said sweet is far bigger than my airway.  Blimey guvnor it got stuck halfway down and before you could dangle a pooey nappy I had stopped breathing and gone blue.  Well with mother rubbing her hands she had not bargained on super Dad (only good thing he did for me) coming home in the nick of time.  He hurled me upside down whacked, whacked again and believe it or not I was whacked again.  Said sweet and me gave in at the same time and with a cough and splutter I was saved, mother had failed again haha.

Attempt No: 3

This leads me to mums last attempt on my young fragile life.  I was 5 years old and had set off on an exciting bus journey with mum when only 10 minutes into the journey things took a turn for the worse and she was at it again.  Now she claims the bus driver slammed his brakes on to avoid a cyclist but I am still unsure.  Anyway when said brakes were hit I was flung from my seat and snapped my wrist in the process.  Thankfully the wrist was mended, mum had failed again.
  
Now I love my mum to pieces but be warned children, who was there when you had that little accident as a kid.

Harry's Story

Well being a proud Dad to 3 children I was sat reflecting on how different all my babies entered this world and I would like to share this with you all.  My 3 children, Harry 10 (first marriage), Oliver 2 and Isabella 1 both with my gorgeous wife Karen, all have there own special entries into our weird and wonderful planet.

Harrys story.  Well the pregnancy went very well and everything had seemed fine and dandy.  We attended all the appointments that we needed to and all was well.  On the 26th of March 2002 my now ex wife started with the early stages of labour and this soon sped up and before I knew it I was on the phone to the midwives and being told to bring my then wife into hospital.  We had bags packed and went to the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford.  We arrived around 6pm and still everything seemed normal.  My ex wife was presenting as 7cm dilated and I knew all was on track and very soon I was going to be a Dad.

This is the point where things took a turn for the worse and the entire evening changed.  At the point that Harry's head appeared I noticed my ex wife was juddering and her eyes had rolled into the top of her eyelids.  I quickly realised something was seriously wrong and informed the midwife as she was monitoring Harry.  The midwive hit the emergency button and the room quickly filled with more midwives and a couple of surgeons/doctors.  I didn't have a clue what was happening but by then my ex wife was unconsious and Harrys head had only just shown.  The surgeons had to make a swift decision and very quickly made an incision and helped Harry on his way.  He was born at 4 minutes past midnight, but quickly whisked off to the Special Care Baby Unit as he was very blue and not breathing.

I was in meltdown, my baby had been taken away and my ex wife was unconsious on the bed.  I was in a pretty bad state of shock, but thankfully a midwife came back in to tell me that Harry was breathing on his own and was just being monitored.  Phew what a relief that on that front my newborn son was going to be ok.  Then a doctor came in to talk to me about what had happened to my ex wife.  Apparently she had suffered from Eclampsia, and after receiving an in depth explanation I understood the severity of the condition.  The doctor was very honest and said to prepare myself for possibly the worst as eclampsia affects and stops vital organs working.  At the time I just did not know what to think as my baby was ok but my then wife could die.

Harry was then brought back to the ward a couple of hours later.  It was a joy to hold my baby boy in my arms for the first time.  I changed his nappy and fed him a very small amount of milk, I was over the moon but still obviously very concerned for my ex wife.  She then started coming around and although her eyes glazed over she could see Harry and managed to stroke his arm twice before fitting again.  This time the medical team were much more prepared and managed to steady her quickly.  They moved her to a ward where the medical staff were ready to take over and monitor closely.

I had a very tense and worrying two weeks as things were very much touch and go, things took a turn for the better and she recovered.  She was able to come home and receover.

I am in awe to this very day at two things to do with this, I take my hat off to each and every one of you mums out there who go through childbirth, you are all superstars and fantastic, secondly a massive load of praise to all the medical professionals from midwives through to surgeons who also work to such a phenomenal high and good standard.  Because of you guys I am the proud Dad of my eldest son Harry.

So that was birth number one, thank you for reading.

Pubbing, clubbing and puke

I was 16 and a half and I was waiting for my boss to pick me up on a cold Friday morning.  I realised this weekly pay packet would give me enough money to go out into Oxford town centre with my friends on the booze for the very first time, all of us were in the same boat never been out together, so pubbing for the first time was mega exciting for us.  Our only previous was ye olde bottles of thunderbird blue, a couple of tins of some below strength lagers and we were hardcore, hanging around my friends house and getting lagered up and just collapsing.

Me and all my friends were greyhound mad and it will come as no surprise that we all worked for greyhound trainers, a job we all loved but the pay was awful, hence it took us all weeks to save up as we were all paying rent and also we all liked gambling (mine led to a gambling addiction) a story for another night.  Anyway back to my boss picking us up and as we scrambled through our daily chores of cleaning no end of greyhound wee and poo up and doing the greyhound training side of things we were all dropped off home, straight into the shower and into my bedroom to pick from what truly was, looking back on it some blooming shocking clothing.  We started phoning each other and arranged a meet up time and place.  7 o'clock was decided, at Mcdonalds, my excitement was fantastic I was going out to get drunk and in my mind pull a woman, yes woman, not girl, lol. 

So after telling my mum and dad over dinner that I was going out to a friends house to watch a VHS video and get a pizza in, I zoomed upstairs to finally put my threads on.  I chose some Levi's 618's simply because my legs were to chunky for 501's, I put a white shirt on with some floral design on the shoulders and walked proudly to the bathroom to apply a tub of cement feeling gel to my bus shelter hairdo (chesney hawkes style).  I thought I looked pretty damn handsome, key in pocket and small wedge of cash, only needed 20 quid to get tanked back then and still arrive home with customary pile of change. I went to the local bus stop and took the 25 minute ride to town, after getting off the bus we met at Mcdonalds and looking back now we looked like a combination of Bros and Brother Beyond.

We headed into our first pub and ordered our drinks, the night progressed really well, 2 drinks and we were all well and truly drunk.  It seemed that our topic of conversation was clubbing and who would be the first to pull a woman (haha not girl) not thinking we would all need to suddenly grow stubble to even look 18 for entry, anyway back then dancing in pubs and having your friends pint thrown onto the back of your shirt seemed acceptable.  11'o'clock and I have eyed up so many women, had so many thoughts, but my talk to a female count (except barmaids) was a stunning zero, so this was it we would attempt to get in 5th Avenue one of the few clubs in Oxford back then.  We queued forever and a day but bingo we got in, now this was my time, women everywhere and all doing the sidewards and few dodgy steps to the front square dance, but wow it looked good.  We strode towards the dance floor wow we looked good, ladies here we come, blink of an eye and our first night clubbing was over.  My friend has chucked up everywhere and back then it was eviction time, doormen ushering us out.  It was night over, we walked the 6 miles back to our houses not saying much but still knowing we all had had a start to a fantastic drinking career together.

Key in door and sneak upstairs my mission was done my parents would never know, not until I woke the next morning and had covered my dartboard and wall in puke anyway, so my adult pubbing and clubbing was underway but a big zero on the lady front.

How I met my Soulmate

Well it was nearly 4 years ago, I was single and ready to mingle.  I had been at work all day (at shitty link) and as per usual having a good chat to the guys at the depot.  We got onto the subject of clunge, boobs and when we had last had dates etc.  Well it seemed like we were all mouldier than some grotty cheese stuck at the back of our fridges, but all pretending to be stud porn stars.  Anyway a friend of mine called Chris had been having a trifle of luck on a dating website called Plenty of Fish.  I of course gave it the large one and scoffed and said I had the women dropping at my feet as soon as I hit the clubs, but looking down realised I had so much free space around my feet that secretly I would get back and after donning wig, beard and glasses and would take a look at this website.

After a few ciders I set up profile and logged on.  Now, it was fair to say that my profile pictures looked as though I had just starred in a horror film, but trawling through and through the courage of cider and I spot this gorgeous woman.  Without a second thought I went off into a drunken flurry of introducing myself as some overgrown Shrek who was a genuine nice guy blah blah blah.....and hit send!  My power of thought was that even if this gorgeous blonde woman messaged back I could have a  tug at the very least, anything else meant shaving and looking human again and speaking to women again.

So, the following day I went off to work as normal with the usual drone of City Link and then back to my sisters where I was crashing, anyway I brewed the laptop up and in the pit of my stomach was clinging to a small bit of hope that I had been messaged back.  Shit, poo and bingo my inbox was showing a message, do I open it and see the owner of the site telling me off for stalking people, lol.....nope I stood tall clicked open and the blonde chick has messaged back, OMG, what a result!  Quickly I thought check her profile pic, maybe she was blind, nope eyes fully functional, anyway I messaged back and we slung a few messages at each other and exchanged details.  After many texts and messages and checks through my empty diary we agreed a meet  We settled for  first rendevous on a Friday lunchtime.  I don't think she bargained at 1'o'clock for a green and yellow City Link van to pull up outside her work, anyway in true movie style this elegant big boobed blonde comes wandering to my van, my god she was even better in the flesh....hubba hubba....willy tingling a tad (been a while) lol.  She climbed quite elegantly into the van and that was it, I was over the moon all I remember was just non stop talking.  I could not have told you if she was a mute or not, I just knew she was gorgeous, anyway our date drifted us down to the local petrol station (romantic) to grab a coffee a hot chocolate and some very precious time together.  I really really liked this woman so much I was praying my yabber and spiel was not off putting, hey no fear I looked round to see she is pushing display stands over complaining of luke warm coffee.  I knew from then I had found my soulmate, lol.

We drove back to work and I knew I needed to see this woman again but feared she was way out of my league (she was), anyway as I said goodbye I only managed to get into 2nd gear and my phone beeped, I was offered a second date, and as they say, the rest is history.  That day I met Karen, my wife, my soulmate and mummy to my babies....I am the happiest man alive.