Hands up, I’ve had a skinful and under normal circumstances, would be more than melancholy, however, I’m more content than I’ve been than I’ve been for around the last 18 months…
So what’s been happening…
1. I was put on notice for redundancy for the first time in 30 years in the summer of 2023, now given my chosen career, IFA, this was a proper kick in the stones, especially as I’ve previously breezed for one role to another as I’ve found the interview historically straightforward. But I found I was being kicked back for role after role.
2. My father was diagnosed with a inoperable brain tumour in Sept 2023, prognosis was deafening accurate at 2.5 months, and I, and my sister (fuck knows how she dealt with everything living practically next door to to dad) had to cope with a rapid decline in a steadfastly strong man into a utterly dependant old man in a matter of days rather than weeks. God bless you dad for staying strong for as long as you did and sorry for not being there in your remaining hours. Please for your own sake, never listen to Monsters by James Blunt if you ever find yourself in this situation
3. The collapse of my marriage. Now I will never profess to being the perfect husband, I’m, like many blokes, the guy who bottles up shit and have my own issues (loss of job, hounding it hard to find a replacement role and dealing with my own health issues (malignant brain tumour which grew during lockdown and resulted in personality altering medication. But I have ended up when I am, no fault is cast and no blame is given, I am where I am as a result of and by product of my own action / lack of action, but ultimately shit happens. My wife decidied enough was enough, now many of you know her and whilst I could lay blame, I don’t, at best the problem was 50:50, but given 1, 2 an£ 3 above, more likely more likely weighted in my favour, I now see myself as a 50 something divorcee…
4. The new job was shit, properly shit, from the start of the induction week, I mean every alarm bell was ringing loud, but given the above, I was happy to abuse their ‘generosity’ of filling my bank account each month while I strengthened my mental resolve and found an alternative role which I have thankfully achieved. Do I feel any remorse for effectively taking piss for the last 12 months, fuck no, they remain in la la land in terms of the quality / experience of who they are looking for versus who they need… I have had many ‘will you stay’ conversations, to the point of taking the piss commercially, but I’d still leave.
So where am I now?
2024 was a blur, yes I secured a new role which kept the pounds rolling into my bank account but was properly fucking shit, yes I did the right thing by the former Mrs Silly Car, I’m solvent, I’m ‘happy, having benefited for 12 months of mental health therapy, god bless you Gemma for listening, disecting, rationalising, understanding, and just being a fucking rock while I went through possible the worst 18 months of my life.
In the last 6 months, I’ve been back to my favourite Indian restaurant (crawling distance from home), a couple of cover band gigs (the Southmartins are particularly good), seen Paul Heaton and James Martin live, enjoyed a few meals out and time with my beautiful daughters (and boyfriends) and tonight I’ve thoroughly enjoyed a meal at my / our favourite Italian restaurant where I felt comfortable dining alone and spending more on a meal for myself than I can ever remember spending, pro-rata on a meal for two.
I am starting a new job in a couple of weeks time, I have my dopey dog by my side and my daughters, who thankfully, due to my (now) ex I have a fabulous relationship with, everything is looking up.
I was recently asked what my h9lisay planes for 2025 are, and for the first time in a long time, I’m now looking to s9mething, don’t know what, but there will be something…
... does anyone know how to secure a five year old Labrador into the front seat of a two seater convertible and B&B options on / around the NC500 route).
My message to everyone it's, if there is any, and I mean any, fucking tiny inkling of a problem, speak to someone, any one, just fucking talk to someone about what’s going on in your head. Now I no longer see Gemma on a regular basis, but I drink an inordinate amount of coffee with a mate, spend time with my daughters, am open about the fact my brian needs a bit of assistance and I know what to to raise the flag when I’m going a touch la la.
Peace and love to y’all!