In the wake

As we walked out

I wanted to run

And scream

Turn every table over

But I didn’t

I swallowed it down

And down

Till it grew
And they had to cut the grief out of my neck

Rotten

You will not be forgiven
But you will be forgotten
For you sir are rotten
to the core

I Remember You

I remember you.

When I was small and you would hold me in your arms, like a protective cloak, nothing could hurt me.

Your hands were rough and soft at the same time, a gentle giant.

I remember you would tell me stories in bed, complete with voices for each character.

Brut or Old Spice mixed with cigarettes, cheap aftershave, but it always smelt nice on you.

I remember you laughing, and I remember your laugh being so infectious, and usually funnier than what you were laughing I at.

Every Thursday was payday, chippy tea and a chocolate bar treat.

I remember your kindness and your wisdom. If you shouted at me I knew I had done something really bad, as your patience seemed endless until it ran out.

Late night Christmas shopping, an old lady singing along to Silent Night, you joined in. I was mortified.

I remember the late night lifts, your hard work ethic and your compassion towards everyone.

I remember the day you told me you were sick. Those words you spoke,

“At best they will try to treat me, at worst it’s 3-6 months”.

I remember falling on you in disbelief and wailing; it was the only time I saw you cry, typical that you were crying for me, not for yourself.

I remember watching you fight and being so brave, I thought you were immortal.

You showed me how to change a plug and check the oil in my car. You took a speeding ticket for my Mum. Ever practical.

I remember saying, “I won’t be long”.

I was half an hour.

I left you for half an hour.

By the time I got back, you had left me for a lifetime.

Photo albums are my favourite, I could sit and paw at them for hours, they are like a time machine without the need for plutonium.

I remember feeling like I had been suspended in the sky by my ankles, the world carried on spinning but I was stuck.

My heart was broken and you took a piece. It has since been replaced with scar tissue and I wouldn’t want it any other way, for that fragment will always belong with you.

I remember you, every time I hear your advice in my head, I see a heron standing wise, I walk in nature, or hear Steve Harley on the radio.

I remember you. How could I forget.

Goodbye my friend x

***This is a post from 21/5/17 - for some reason I never hit publish***

My heart is broken.

Jon Hall was a wonderful man, I can’t believe I am actually writing ‘was’. Last night I heard my old friend passed away, it doesn’t make any sense, it’s certainly not fair and I have stayed up trying to figure out if this is real or not.

Jon was one of the most decent men you could meet, he was always desperate to have a family and settle down, what I hope he realised is that he did have a family, a very big family of people that loved him. He embraced everyone he met and if he liked you, you were for life, he would literally do anything to help you out. I have had a lot of one on one chats with Jon over the years and quite a few late nights round at his with his trusty band of brothers, Shoo, Danny, Andy, Paul and Rob. He was a father to the world, an inspiration, enabler, dreamer and hard worker. Once Jon had his heart set on something there was no stopping him, things didn’t always work out but whatever he did he gave 110%.

I first met him through a mutual friend, Joe Shooman. Joe and I, had worked to get ourselves some passes to the now defunct ‘In The City’ music convention in Manchester, we managed to get Jon one too. Jon drove us to the event and I loved him instantly, he was funny, interesting and genuine with a real passion for whatever he put his mind to. On the drive home Jon’s car broke down on the motorway. Jon phoned his parents (who live in Wales), with no hesitation they jumped into their own car and drove to us, when they got there they handed over their keys, gave us a travel sweet each and let Jon drive us home in their car whilst they waited for his to be fixed, this was in the middle of the night! With parents like that it was no surprise that Jon was so wonderfully kind and giving, my heart goes out to them. Mr and Mrs Hall, please know he so looked up to you both and just adored you, in turn I know you were so proud of him and so you should be. I never met Jon’s brother, Tim, but I know how much he loved him.

Jon loved music, alongside family and friends that was his life and he worked relentlessly to help other people’s dreams come true. I worked with him a few times, some worked out, some didn’t, sometimes he was angry at me - but I know he never stopped loving me, just like he did the rest of his friends.

I was only saying yesterday how I missed Liverpool and some of the people in it, I had a thought I should go and visit, I missed the Spank Records family (Jon’s old record label team and signings) and I wanted to catch up with them all. I am devastated that I didn’t make the effort sooner.

Let this be a lesson, always tell your friends and family you love them, never put off seeing them for tomorrow is not promised.

Jon I know you wanted to make your mark on the world and my friend, you did that tenfold. The amount of people you have helped and inspired over the years is countless and your spirit will live on. I know you would say to me ‘but I wanted to do so much more’, but I promise you have done more than some people living to 80 years of age could ever dream of. You were golden and I am going to miss you more than I can ever put into words.

Don't give up, ever.

I am really writing this for my own benefit.

This is a reminder to not give up, ever. Things can be hard, you can be tired and in pain but it's always for a reason. You have to have the bad and hard times else when would you know things are good? Without bad there is no contrast and all you get is, well... times.

I recently became a safehouse to a little cat that had been seized by the RSPCA. He was emaciated, matted, old, full of flu, yet he never gave up. He had 15 years of struggling through life to finally get to the latter part and find someone who would love him forever and would make sure he would never be hungry again. He amazes me because his strength of spirit got him through, he is one of the funniest and happiest chaps I have met.

One of my other cats Poppy Pickle was the same, a victim of bonfire night when she came into my life she was burnt, starved, could barely use her back legs and yet was so full of life.

Animals can teach us a lot. They live for the day, they have hope for the future, they remind me to have hope for my future.
 

No clue...

I have no idea what I want to be any more. I went from being quite career orientated to just wanting an easy life. This doesn't mean I lack ambition, I am writing a book at present and nothing would please me more to get it out there - and in some way shape or form I believe that I will.

As a career though, I don't think I am interested in climbing any ladders, I recently read "the trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you are still a rat". I don't totally believe that is true, there are many successful people with ethics that do well in the race, but I have seen so many, including myself, get hurt. I have worked in the events and music industry, the third sector and finally found I was at my happiest when I was working with animals and yet I still want to stay at the bottom, no ambition to climb any higher.

I am as happy as I have been in a long time. I am thirty five, nearly thirty six and it was only a year or so ago that I met a lovely man I think I am going to spend the rest of my life with. I am on the lowest wage I have ever been on (minimum in fact) and that is a struggle I won't deny. But honestly if I could work part time, make jam, garden, look after my animals and write my book I would be chuffed to pieces. What has happened to me? Well whatever it is, I like it!

We all need to make more time for each other and for ourselves. We need to stop getting hung up on what we think we should be and just focus on what we enjoy.

Goodbye Greg x

At the beginning of this week my world stood still. My friend Sarah messaged me to see if I had heard the news about our mutual friend Greg.

Greg was someone I had met during my DJing years at The Masque/Barfly. He worked behind the bar and was also in a band called Dopamine that later morphed into "Day with Mary". He was always jolly, smiley and a genuinely nice guy.

Last weekend Greg's Mum and Sister came home from holiday to find Greg had passed away. No warning, no decision of his own, one minute he was here and the next he was gone.

When I heard the news my heart stood still. I hadn't seen Greg for a good while but we kept in contact via Facebook and chatted just a few weeks ago. I had to message him, "Is this a bad joke? are you there?" Greg never answered and my message has not been read.

I used to run a club night called Mixed Bag with my friend Klaus (Terry). Our most successful years were when we were at a club called The Masque which was later run by Barfly, on Seel Street, Liverpool. The staff there were family to each other and generally if they weren't working in the venue then they were drinking in it.

One night, early doors, Greg was in drinking with his friends. I was DJing on my own and Greg kept coming to the booth to talk to me, he was a cheeky scamp and every time I thought he was going to request a song he asked if he could touch my boob instead (why the one I will never know?). The answer was 'no' but that didn't stop him persisting with the question. Each time looking innocently at me like it wasn't an unreasonable request. He carried on and made me cry with laughter but he never got his way.

Fast forward to several years later, things have changed (in fact my DJing career wasn't going to continue much longer, gone are the days of The Barfly and everyone was going their separate ways). Greg messages me to see how I am (I had been in for an operation). He starts telling me he is doing work experience at Aintree Hospital and  how he saved a little girls life by carrying her up three flights of stairs to get her to the hospital unit she needed (the lift wasn't working and it was an emergency). I was so proud of him. He had found his calling in life and pursued it (it took him a couple of years but last year he got a job working for the NHS in The Liverpool Royal). I knew Greg was lovely but I also saw him as a bit of a joker, up until now I never realised that his caring side was actually quite a serious side too.

Photo copyright Sakura

Greg always seemed to know when I needed someone to talk to, even if it was just a message to tell me I was lovely. A few weeks ago it was my Dad's birthday, we had both lost our Dad's and whenever I posted about mine Greg would always message me to see if I was ok. He was just a sweetheart. As daft as a brush and as sweet as custard.

My heart goes out to your friends especially your band mates, Cesar, Chris, Andy and Rich and your family. I have been crying tears and then crying with laughter reading some of your friends memories about you. I wish we had hung out more, I wish I could turn back time. You filled those 31 years of yours with a lot of laughter.

I may not have let you touch my boob, but Greg you really touched my life. I will miss you. x