Letter's of the past.

(2026 Edit. This post is from the archive; it was first published on 23 October 2012 at 17:37. Things, facts and views may have changed since then.)

Letters

Image by Margarita Kochneva from Pixabay

You never really know what others think of you until they make it clear in some way, and sometimes when they do, it can come as a complete surprise or even, dare I say, a bit of a shock!

Such an incident happened to me at the end of last week when, out of the blue, a letter arrived from an old, old flame. Before I go on to the contents of that letter, let me tell you the intriguing story of how this physical letter got to me is as remarkable as the contents themselves. For some reason, it was sent to a place I used to work many long years ago, and when I say many, I really do mean many, ten or more at least. Luckily, someone there still recognised my name as they forwarded it to an address I used to live at in Crawley, West Sussex. Luckily, the owner still remained the same as all those years ago, who forwarded it to the Kemp Town flat where I used to reside and from there the lovely Eastern European escorts that occupy the top apartment popped it back in the post with my current abode crammed into one corner.  

Thus, the letter's unusual and utterly remarkable journey from pillar to post had finally come to a wonderfully correct conclusion. Hat’s off to the Royal Mail on this occasion for their endeavours in the delivery of the letter, and deep sentiments of gratitude are expressed to all who had a hand in ensuring its progress continued until, in my hands, it rested.

The contents of the letter, as indeed the letter itself, were a complete surprise and not a particularly happy one. The letter, as I said before, was from an old, old flame from the very dim and distant past. We dated for a relatively short time, perhaps ten or eleven months, maybe a year at the most, during the mid 1990’s. I can’t say how we got together or even why; we certainly came from different places and lived in seemingly different worlds, plus he was a full decade and a half my senior, which only added to the differences between us. Our brief relationship was, I suppose you could say was tempestuous,  fiery would be another word, we were both strong and stubborn personalities, and I dare say we both suffered from the ’I know best’ mantra and philosophy. There were times of great passion, intellectual stimulation and learning, but also times of arguments and anger, which ultimately forced the affair to be a rather dysfunctional one, which led to its inevitable termination.

He loved me, yet always resented and never forgave me for breaking up our ’beautiful’ relationship, at least that’s what his letter informed me. It also told me that he believed we could have ’gone the distance’, which surprised the heck out of me because, from my memory, we were never destined for longevity, and it was he who told me to get out of his car and out of his life when we broke up. 

There were a few other things mentioned in the letter which I have different recollections of altogether; however, I suppose that’s only to be expected, we were two different people and too different people. I would write back to perhaps disagree with his memories of our time together, or rather, offer my side of the story and my views of how it came to a bitter and fractious end. Oh yes, the end was fractious to say the least, when I said earlier he was the one to tell me to get out of his car and out of his life, I meant that literally. We’d been out at an early ‘summer’ party where shorts and shades had been the theme, somewhat surprising really, as it was taking place at the end of January or beginning of February, I forget exactly which after all this time. I, being the typical larger-than-life character full of fun I happily sported rather short black shorts complete with a skull and crossbones design on the front area. In reality, I’ll level with you, these were comic boxer shorts, yet I wore them as over shorts with nothing underneath. I also sported a ripped black ‘Boy’ t-shirt that was about two sizes too small for me, and that was before it had shrunk in the wash!  

I want to say I also had flip flops on, but if memory serves me rightly, I actually sported some Hi-Tec trainers.  It was a private party, and we weren't going anywhere else, which negated my need for cash, plus I had no pockets upon my person anyway. I don’t recall how our argument started or who the instigator was, nor can I remember how it or why it escalated the way it did. No doubt I was partly or even largely to blame, I simply can't recall, but I sure do remember how it ended. We’d gotten halfway back between the location on the south coast of this party and my home in Crawley when he slammed on his brakes, pulled into a lay-by at the side of the road and uttered the infamous last words and the opposite of Billy Ocean, ’get out of my car and out of my life’.  

As I said, I was stubborn back then, so I did, he drove off, and that was the last I ever saw of him. I then simply had no other option other than to walk home during the middle of a January / February night, wearing nothing other than a pair of funny boxer shorts, trainers and a shirt far too small for me.  I can’t say how far the distance was exactly, nor how long the journey took me; all I can say is that by the time I got to my door, the dawn had arrived and people were already on their way to work. I must have had some odd or funny looks from passing commuters. I have no memory, but it wasn't the first time I'd been seen as one of those 'Yesterday's People' coming home the day after a night before!

As I said, I would have written back to him to share my views on the relationship that never was without the benefit of rose-tinted spectacles, yet tucked in the envelope was a small card. The card was a short little note from one of his family members informing me he had recently passed away after a short illness. A surprise indeed, and I’d wished I’d read the note before the letter, a letter which he had written sometime before his death and not sent, rather than the other way around. I also wish he’d have sent the letter before he died as then he’d had gone to his grave with both sides of the story, but that of course isn’t to be, but it just emphasises to me now, how there are always at least two sides to every story, that one person’s truth can seem to be another person’s invention, and I wonder, perhaps we never really know how others see us.

Yes, we're back!

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive; it was first published on 17 December 2008 at 04:15.  Facts, feelings, and beliefs may have changed since then.)

It's been a long while since I last posted here, sorry about that, let me make it up to you and do a flying thru time update. Oh,    where do I start? There's been so much happening,  and yet so little as well, I'm completely lost at the chronological order of things, so I'll just battle on with the random thoughts of things that have come and gone since I was last bashing the keys of this old laptop! America has a new president, Mr Obama stormed ahead of Palin and the Tortoise to become the first black guy to be elected to such high office over that side of the pond. Will he do a good job? Only time will tell, but let's face it, he probably couldn't do a worse job than Bush.....can he? The economy has pretty much crashed as far as the media is concerned, and the Global Downturn Credit Crunch has well and truly shown its ugly head and is starting to snap at the heels of the normal people like you and I. Well,  actually,  it hasn't really bitten my arse too much so far; in fact, it's had the opposite effect on my life. The VAT rates come down by 2.5%, which, be honest, doesn't sound a lot, does it? But, as a certain supermarket proudly claims, "Every Little Helps!" Also, I love going to the checkout/tills,  thinking it's one price and finding out it's a little bit less. Another good thing about the global recession for me personally is that pretty much all the shops have got their January sales on now, everything seems to be 10, 20 or even 30% off, now that is a result! The only sad fact is that Woollies is no more, yep, sadly, the great discount store Woolworths has not survived the first bite of this dark economic time and gone belly up. Matt and I took a visit up to the Brighton store in Western Road, which felt more like Western Baghdad. It was without a doubt a war zone, I was scared for my life in there, caught in the cross-fire between the bunting and the pick 'n' mix! Anyway, folks, jingle, jingle, jingle all the way, Christmas is coming at such a fast rate that I'm almost knocked arse over tit. Are you ready? Have you done all your shopping? Is everything all sorted? I've done all the presents, I've got all that side of things done, but the food, well, we'll do that at the last moment, so it's nice and fresh, after all, I'm working all the way up until 8am on Christmas morn, oh,  I'm so looking forward to those sprouts and mashed roast potatoes!

Here's Matty!!!! It had been ages since the last blog post, although it really doesn’t seem like it has been such a long time. Time has really flown by since the last posting. Jason and I haven’t been up to too terribly much. We have gone out a few times to Mo’s for dinner, which was nice, and we also went to Portsmouth, which was a unique experience for me. Just last week, Mo had us over for a veggie bake before she took her winter holiday to Oz. There is just something about her cheese sauce that reminds me of home. Maybe it’s because it tastes a lot like white gravy in America, but just a little cheesier. Mo was doing fine along with everyone else in the family, and we had a lovely (Few) bottles of wine and the excellent dinner she made. 

Portsmouth was a few weeks back and was a really neat experience for me. The train ride alone was worth it all. It gave me a really great insight into how different England can be, one minute you're in the middle of a busy city and the next, you're in the middle of farm country. Jason took me to various places in the mall of Portsmouth and around and along, and eventually up the Spinica tower, which we spent most of our time on. Halfway up the tower, there is a glass panel across the floor that you can step on, and while I was treading over it almost nonstop and looking down, Jason stood quite a long way away from it, that is, until I pulled him over it and made him stand on it for at least a little bit. I can’t think of a more unique building like the Spinica tower in the States. It’s really one of a kind.

A little bit after that, Jason and I had our movie and Television series spree, where we watched a few seasons of House and went to the pier to see the starlings fly around in their flocks. They almost look like a giant ink blob that is oozing throughout the sky. Jason won me a Piglet plushie, and I got him a Danger Mouse set. I also found out that I cannot play the game Dance Dance Revolution, or Dancing Stage, for you Europeans anymore. Kind of a shock since I was #1 in America for a while online, and could handle anything really with no problem, only to find that now I tire and fail at even the easiest of stages. I guess if you don’t use it, you DO lose it. Hehe. Lately, Jason and I are having our first Christmas together, Advent calendars, Christmas trees and all. The rents have sent out the majority of the packages that I will be receiving thus far, as I only have 34 days left before I have to head all the way back to Yankeeland (Shudder)… We received a lot of cake mixes, one of which I made a few hours ago for Jason and I to enjoy before he gets home. Along with that was an unexpected birthday present, which was a game card and the expansion of World of Warcraft. Being the gamer/geek/nerd that I am, I had played that game a lot in the past and quit from boredom. However, there is plenty for me to do now, and I was surprised to find that Jason even likes to play a little bit, but if I told you he had a level 13 Blood Elf Warlock, he would probably kill me. (It’s our secret, right?)

Other than all that, nothing else much has happened. We are still just happily living life as it comes, and are happy to have each other's company while we can. I can see the nocturnal amiss closing up the gates of time that I have left here, and even though I don’t really want to think about it and refuse to most of the time, there are some times when I have to think of how I am going to handle getting a New apartment, job, etc., when I get home. It’s a lot to do for a 19-year-old (well -20 tomorrow), but I know I will be able to handle things fine as I always seem to. Don’t sweat the small stuff, just live life as it comes and smile. Other than that I have been working on a few things here and there, attempting to work on a game that I have been making for 1.5 years now which is seemingly becoming more and more unlikely that I am going to finish coding, and writing a collection of short stories that are told like campfire stories which revolve around six teenagers and shows just how fragile people are, regardless of their sexuality and skin colour. Last week, Jason and I went out to the front to get rid of some stale bread, which we threw to dozens and dozens of pigeons, and I had a little surprise of one who was so brave that he (or she) perched on my arm and ate bread right out of my hand. I am pretty sure that is the first time I ever held a bird for more than 2 seconds, and the first time one ate out of my hands. Usually, I am not so hot with animals.   On our way back, we ran into an elderly woman who asked us if we could get her some items from the co-op, which Jason and I happily did and brought them back to her. I wasn’t sure what had happened and why she was left alone, but it worried me that she wasn’t getting enough to eat, and I also wondered how many people took her money and scrammed. Hopefully, she rested with a full tummy, and everything will be alright for her. I think that we are going to check on her later on today as well, just to make sure.

Yesterday we travelled up with a massive suitecase to see the old folks, that are my parents, who, apart from bringing me into the world and are completely mad, were full of fun and happiness and filled us up with egg sandwiches. Tomorrow, Matt and I are off up to the big smoke that is London on Matt's Birthday treat. I won't say too much, as he'll be casting his eyes over this shortly, and I don't want to let the bag out of the cat! 

Matt and I often discuss the cultural differences between our two nations, but I'm proud to be British, and here are just a few reasons why. Only in Britain... can you get a pizza to your house faster than an ambulance. Only in Britain... do supermarkets make sick people walk all the way to the back of the shop to get their prescriptions, while people can buy cigarettes at the front. Only in Britain... do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a DIET coke. Only in Britain... do banks leave both doors open yet chain the pens to the counters. Only in Britain... do we leave cars worth thousands of pounds on the drive and lock our junk and cheap lawn mower in the garage. Only in Britain are disabled parking places in front of the ice skating rink. And just because it's Christmas, here are some more reasons to be proud of our country folk! 3 Brits die each year testing if a 9V battery works by placing it on their tongue. 58 Brits are injured each year by using sharp knives instead of screwdrivers. 31 Brits have died since 1996 by watering their Christmas tree while the fairy lights were plugged in. British Hospitals reported 4 broken arms last year after cracker pulling accidents. 18 Brits had serious burns in 2000 trying on a new jumper with a lit cigarette in their mouth. 5 Brits were injured last year in accidents involving out-of-control Scalextric cars. And finally.........In 2000, eight Brits cracked their skulls whilst throwing up into the toilet. More soon, my little fruit bats!!

Brighthelmstone

(2026 Edit - this post is from the archive; it was first published on 19 August 2008 at 03:44. Facts, feelings, and views may have changed since then.)

Brighton is a wonderful place, cosmopolitan, vibrant, bohemian, colourful, queer and a true 24-hour city of the new generation. But it's also a town with a rich and equally colourful history, part of that iconic history of the town surrounds the lovely West Pier, now little more than a ghost rising from the sea.

Photo Slbs / West Pier, Brighton /

CC BY-SA 2.0

The West Pier has a special place in my heart. Every time I pass it now, I think of the former glory and I feel a strange connection to the distant past. The West Pier was built between 1863 and 1866 by the Brighton West Pier Company and designed by the doyen of pier engineers, Eugenius Birch of Westminster. The original construction consisted of iron screw piles, which supported iron columns with an iron girder work supporting wooden decking. It originally had only two square kiosks at the entrance, two octagonal kiosks with minarets in the centre and four more octagonal kiosks at the corners of the large pier head platform.

Later additions were the central windshield in 1890; the pavilion at the head in 1893, which was designed to seat 1,400 people and converted into a theatre in 1903; the concert hall in the centre in 1916, and the raised entrance at the shore end in 1932.

The pier was closed during the Second World War and was cut in two to prevent an enemy landing. When it reopened, the theatre was converted into an amusement arcade. Scenes in the very famous film 'Oh! What a Lovely War was shot on the West Pier, in which many local people had parts, although I wasn't one of them as it was released four months before I was born!

By 1970, the owners of the pier wanted to demolish part of the structure, however the pier was listed to protect it, yet years of disrepair and neglegt meant the pier head was too danagerous for the public to walk and thus sealed off. Five or so years later, the rest followed suit and completely closed. There have been many plans to redevelop and restore the old lady of Brighton over the years, it became the only Grade I listed pier in the country in 1982. Some basic restoration work had taken place, but two fires have ensured that there is nothing left to restore.

I've watched the pier from afar, walked on part of it when I was a little nipper and seen films about it. I've also watched flames dance over the little that was left and consign the once grand old lady of the sea to history and nothing but memories of a bygone era.

Brighton's West Pier Trust

Love at first sight???

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive: it was first published on 24 November 2007 at 17:54. Facts, feelings, and views may have changed since then.)

Phew, I've just come to the end of another night shift, and it's been a night where every single hour seemed like two! And, I wondered if there could be any more than 24 hours in the day? Why oh why, when you're watching the clock during working time, those ticking hands rotate at half speed, yet if it's your leisure time, they practically spin themselves off going so fast!

During those long dark night hours, we tried to make up songs about the place that is called work, now I don't claim to be a wordsmith or a clever lyricist, so my addition to the collective collaboration was simply - "I think this office, is like an orifice on the lower portions of a hippopotamus" OK, so perhaps I shouldn't give up the day night job! 

During lunch, David and I sloped off to Shaw Towers to escape, and whilst we were there, I popped a DVD of Sex And The City to while away our hour of freedom. It was one of the shows where someone was getting married to someone else after only knowing them a couple of days, love at first sight, and it's got me thinking. Is there such a thing as love at first sight?

I asked David, and his reply was a firm, vehement, No! A no messing, no nonsense. A non-confusing no. Rach from the office gave an equally strong no. I've just spoken to Jake, and he says yes, hurrah for romance!

What is Love at first sight? Well, according to the internet's equivalent of the font of all knowledge, otherwise known as Wikipedia, Love at first sight is an emotional condition whereby a person feels romantic attraction for a stranger on the first encounter with the stranger. The term may be used to refer to a mere sexual attraction or crush, but it usually refers to actually falling in love with someone, literally the very first time one sees him or her, along with the deep desire to have an intimate relationship with that person. The stranger may or may not be aware that the other person has any such notion, and may not even be aware of the other person's presence (such as in a crowded place). Sometimes two people experience this phenomenon towards each other at the same time, usually when their eyes meet.

If you ask me, I'd love to believe in love at first sight. I like the idea of romance, of the whole possibility that you can, possibly see that one person that you instantly know you want to spend the rest of your days with. You know what I'm talking about, the one person that presses all your buttons, that lights all your fuses, that ignites the fire within? As I say, I'd like to believe that you can see them, just once and know it's them for the rest of your natural born! But I think sometimes those four-letter words that both begin with L often go together, yet have completely different meanings. I am, of course, referring to love and lust, and when they collide, it can be fatal!

Love at first sight, I so want to believe, when I started writing this, my mind travels back a few years to a time in a smoke-clouded Revenge nightclub here in Brighton. I was walking through the lower floors bar with my pals DB and Dan, when all of a sudden, walking in the opposite direction was a single young lad, around my height, with dark hair, wide eyes and a strange yet intriguing smile. Our eyes met as we passed by each other. One, two, three, I turned to see at the same split second he also turned around. Humperty humperty humperty went my heart. However, my friends were still walking toward the bar, and he was walking towards the dance floor, and I thought, 'what a cute guy,' yet continued to the bar. Drinks were consumed, and dances were danced - with my friends. Then, we took a stroll on the upper level. Suddenly, as we were walking toward the upstairs dance floor, walking toward the bar.....yep, you've guessed right, that boy again, we smiled, we passed, one, two, three, we turned at the same time. Was it love at first sight, or was it lust? This time, we walked towards each other, no words were spoken, but our lips came together, as our lips parted and our tongues met each other, our hands explored each other's backs. Our chests were pressed together, and I swear I couldn't tell if the pounding I felt was our hearts beating at the same time or the thumpingly loud music. We broke this snog and smiled at each other, and then parted again.

I never did get to bed with that boy, although we've snogged each other many times on numerous nights after that first electrical meeting, we never took it to the next level. I have no idea if what I saw that first time in Revenge was love or lust; I can't tell, I don't know. But what I do know is, I have not forgotten that boy. I've often thought of him, I've often wondered about him, I've dreamt about him, I've not met him in the intervening years, yet, but he still controls a part of my heart and mind, and perhaps my very being. Whenever I hear the phrase 'love at first sight', I think, with a smile crossing my lips, I think of that night in Revenge when I saw him, that boy, who got the nickname 'cap-boy', for the very first time, and I wonder whether it was love at first sight or lust at first sight.

It's up to you now. Is there such a thing as love at first sight? Does it really happen? If so, who does it really happen to?

Madness!

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive; it was first published on 19 November 2007 at 01:06.  Facts, feelings, beliefs may have changed since then.)

I woke with a full bladder and a howling in my head that struck my very core. Yet as I emptied my bladder, the howling continued unabated, either I have a brain tumour or it's windy outside, I reasoned with myself! I padded to the lounge and found the window open and thankfully gazing down the street to the sea, I could tell that the brain tumour had not struck me down during the hours of slumber - it was windy as hell! I could see the white water of the waves racing to shore and pondered going for a ride, obviously, it being a Sunday, I dismissed that thought straight from my head in an instant, I'm not that mad!

After I had ventured round the road to the little corner shop, which must be the only one left in England that isn't run by Asians and got the Sunday papers. I felt the wind on my face and decided to take a little walk along the front, so I went down that way and nearly got blown off my feet; it was then decided to be a short walk! I was along the front, looking at the waves and saw all these people along the bottom. There was some kind of commotion going on! Upon further inspection, I found it was the Brighton 10k run. These brave, or mad, fools were running a race with the wind in their faces; it must have been bloody hard, as I was having a job just staying upright, and I was standing still. I watched these athletic fools in admiration mixed with sympathy for a while, until my fingers had turned to ice and numbness was setting in, and my nose resembled Rudolf on the eve of Christmas!

So that was my morning, my seafront walk curtailed by the bitter wind and the rumbles of an empty tumtum! I relaxed with a bowl of muesli and worked my way through the papers whilst a seemingly unending circle of Grand Designs repeats played on one of the freeview channels. Whilst I was relaxing, on the other side of town, Jakey was working his little tush off in his part-time extracurricular paid activity. A rather well-paid part-time job that isn't conducted in an office, if you know what I mean? Still, a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do, especially one whose putting himself through university without rich parents to bankroll him.

Children In Need raised £19 million, £20 million, or £21m depending on which paper you read and with variables of 2 million between three newspapers, it makes you wonder how much of what they print as fact you can actually trust. But, whatever the actual bank balance, it's still a hefty sum of charity donations to help give the needy kids of once Great Britain get more smack, crack and coke!

The Christmas spirit seems to be a bit lacking in Australia, store Santas have been banned from chanting a merry ' Ho Ho Ho' because, in this 'politically correct' madness, it might offend some women; instead, they have to chant the un-traditional 'Ha Ha Ha'!

One of the funniest moments recently watched on 'I used to be a celebrity get me in here' was former boy-band member J, not having a clue of the running order on one of his own band's CDs. Luckily, from the group, dumb blonde Gemma the ex-actress from Hollyoaks, was a fan and got the question right, and they were rewarded with chocolate-covered strawberries. Oh, and staying with the show, I must say hats off to Geordie hosts Ant and Dec, for making this car-crash TV look good and almost interesting, which it has yet to be. Oh, and one other thing, is there ever anything that doesn't get a loud belly laugh from Mr Christoper Biggins, who must surely be the biggest and campiest creature in camp? You can say what you like about ol' Biggins, but he's sure put some life into this already dull show, so long may he continue and with a bit of luck and some double-sided sticky tape, he may yet be crowned King of the jungle!

I've always thought X Factor judge Louis Walsh was a bit of a knob; now he's just gone and proved it. Speaking after appearing on the really dross Katie & Peter Unleashed, he said of Ms Price, 'She asks the questions everyone at home is thinking? Really? Is that what he thinks? I would have thought most people at home were thinking the same as me, when is this fooking crap gonna end!!!!