The Freak Box

Another year ends. So, how did it go? How was it for you? The best? The Worst? Or merely the same as all the others? I’m describing this year as ‘Alright’. Nothing majorly eventful of taxing happened and so I’m left with an overpowering sense of ‘Meh’ to the whole 365 days.

I’ve had worse years, I’ve had a lot better. A beige year, bland and normal when it could and probably should have been so much more given that the Boy went to big school and I tore the roof off the house in a major refurb. A memorable year for these two reasons alone but generally a bit dull and forgettable …. Like most years in my 40’s. The ‘Dad years’.   The 30’s… now there was a decade. Totally out of control on a number of levels.

From a work perspective I, sadly, maintained my dislike of the job. This needs to stop as I’ve got a lot of years to work and I seem incapable of kicking open the exit door even when I’m successful in an interview.

The public sector is a teasing mistress. It gets you to pop the question but doesn’t tell you the full story till you get your foot in the bedroom. Then it’s a cab home or creeping out the flat in the night while they’re asleep. I took the cab as they couldn’t afford me as it were. I endlessly await a teary phone call of apology…. I’m not hopeful.

So it’s time to find the love for the current employer, the old girlfriend so to speak. In reality the love started to fade when my heroes and friends started retiring leaving me with either downtrodden employees who have been broken by the system or fat, lazy fuckers stealing a living. I lost an equine hero this year but hopefully I can still visit the stable on regular occasions to water The Horse.

What also didn’t help was that the year started with defeat where a bad man fled the room in tears having been let off the hook. Tears of Joy and a bullet dodged by him. Never trust the public, they are random and go weird occasionally. This result hung around like a bad smell for the remainder of the year sapping the enthusiasm of all directly involved in it. On the upside the work year has ended with us on the up and bad men on the rack. I feel slightly reborn and keen to nut back into it…. We’ll see… it may not last but I’ll try to rise above it the crud and relive the good old days.

It was also the year that the boy tore himself free from the shackles of kid football.

I have never been involved in something so pathetic in my life as Under 11’s football. Overburdened kids shouted at by parents who believe their kid is on the cusp of being the next Beckham and so not so much an outstanding sportsman but a money making machine for them.  These parents generally haven’t played the game but know all about it while shouting thing like ‘get stuck in’ and ‘man up’…. these people are Arseholes.

I never really wanted the boy to play regular football even though I did it for years. My low level experience of it was that it was overly pushy with the kids and I never wanted the boy to be under any pressure during what was supposed to be a fun thing but I allowed him to play about four years ago. It was all going mediocre until this year when the coach turned out to be a bullying prick.

It’s very difficult watching someone shout at your kids when you don’t. Every fragment of your being wants to walk across a football pitch and smash the shouter all over the shop but you can’t do that as you’ll be arrested or, even worse, embarrass your son. Instead I bit my lip and hoped that the boy would decide that he didn’t want to do it anymore. Towards the end of the season during which he had become more miserable and more poorly treated at the hands of a coach whose son was the favoured average player in the side, the boy decided enough was enough. He made his own mind up.

The cup final would be his last game and he made me very proud with a two goal, two assist 13 minute cameo which stuck it all up the arse of the twat running the side. At the end of the game when he was lauded by the other parents as the hero the coach said to me in front him:

‘It’s a shame he didn’t do that in the other 20 games’

This was typical of the stroker but instead of wiping him out I simply shook his hand, informed him that we were no longer available and left. The boy is a much happier chap now and so it has proved to be the correct decision. He can play football in the right environment at another stage in life. If it isn’t fun then why would you even consider doing it as a pastime?

At the beginning of the year I decided that I wanted to see more of my old mate and to a degree I achieved this. I tore myself away from mindless work drink ups and made the effort with those from the old days. I feel I successfully managed this but didn’t feel my efforts were always appreciated or supported. I spend a lot of time sorting shit out in the name of nostalgia but I reckon my part in that play is over….Exit, Stage Left….

On the upside I saw nearly all those mates of mine who live abroad.

The Bowman and the Queen of Gin visited and a great night in Highgate was had. Perhaps I should visited them this year rather than sit on my arse pretending I don’t fly….We’ll see. Big Jim visited at the exact moment the Arsenal beat United. Always great to see a Northern Monkey on the rack over a curry served by an East European. Team Ewing flew in and a lovely night was had in a back street North London pub where I was incorrectly identified by someone for the third time in his life. The love of the Ewings is something that needs to be recognised on a global level. The joint decision made by them to do what they did is beyond commendable… it’s a booker prize wrapped in an Oscar with a Nobel Peace prize flake on top. Love conquers all in the end and they are proof of that.

And Bun returned for the summer. Me old mucker arrived for shits and giggles in the sun. It made the summer for me. Top fun all round…. Our paths will all cross again with more frequency than this shit I’m sure…. I long for those moments as my Friends are my brothers and sisters rather than those I was chucked together with. Unusual but true….you don’t chose family but you choose your mates so the bonds are greater in my view.

The loft was built and is enjoyed immensely. This was my first foray into extensive building work and it was a lot less stress than I imagined it was going to be mostly due to the speed and quality of the builders rather than my control of it. I’ll continue the painting odyssey during my imminent month of no booze. No holiday was had due to the build and we’ve vowed that this will never happen again…. Too long without doing fuck all can kill you.

On the family front all is good in this house. The kids grow up and are moving forward and Jen is still the jewel in my life. Don’t tell her this, keep her on her toes. Bizarrely she takes no interest in these rants. She doesn’t read them so she’ll never know.

On other family fronts it’s time to close some doors for good. Too much misery and bile from some and I’m not a patient man so it’s time to chuck away the key and put the onus on those with the issue to rectify the situation or get the fuck out. I’ve no time for time wasters, I’m too old.

Like I said at the beginning I’ve had better years but I’m still lucky. I don’t struggle and am aware that my whinging is ludicrous given the lives of others but I still love a moan like the rest of us. I turn my back on this year and merely remember a boy growing up and a box on the top of my house….little more than that.

Thank you for your support in reading my crap. I do it for fun, to stimulate my brain and so the kids can read it in the years to come and see that their Dad wasn’t just a miserable, pissed up sod in his youth.  If it makes you laugh then great as life is about laughing and fun. If it isn’t then you are doing it wrong.   Take the tragedy that comes with it, take it and push forward, find the joy and remember the good times and not the way things may have ended… It’s the ‘Lemmy method’ without the warts and leather.

Goodbye 2015….. I’ll remember you like that Van Halen album sung by the bloke from Extreme that makes even this diehard shudder in his boots.

Onwards to better times….. enjoy your night…. I’m having a curry and a bottle of Rioja before I join an alcohol free bubble for a month…

More Crud in the new year…