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| My eldest sister and Dad Ernest Stocks 1929 - 2012 |
The Voice Has Spoken
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Gone But Not Forgotten (Pic 13)
Saturday, 31 March 2012
A Father, Husband, Grandfather and Soldier.
This morning my father Ernest Stocks died.
He was 82 years old and had a good life. He was a father to 5 children (3 boys, 2 girls) and a Grandfather to 8 and just recently a Great Grandfather to 1.
He served in the army just after WWII over in the middle east. Long before Sadam Hussain or Bin Laden made it fashionable to point fingers and spout hatred against the region. He was there as they ripped the region apart to create Israel. He saw his friend shot and was himself shot at while over there and spent much of his old age recounting stories from that time, as many of his generation do. In fact he used to joke that he was the only private to serve in the army over there as everyone of his age that he ever talked to always claimed to be a Captain, Sargent, Corporal or any other type of officer, but he was always proud to say he was just a private. After all it wasn't about rank it was about being there, just like the troops of today.
After his time over there he married his sweetheart, my mother Maureen (whom my daughter was named after) and they remained married until she passed away 21 years ago. He worked hard to provide for his family and eventually moved into what was to become the family home, which he bought for a song back in the late 70s early 80s. As I grew up I soon learnt that he had a strict and steady hand and was a man not to be crossed. He was harder on my brothers and sisters than he ever was with me as I was the youngest. In fact there used to be a belt hung by the fire place that was used to discipline us but I escaped ever feeling its sting as one of my siblings removed it from its hook and made it disappear, to this day I don't know who it was. Though for all his strict rules and attitude he always ensured we had at least one holiday a year. And it was always fun.
He was a hard man, a bastard who on occasion made my mother cry. He worked hard and drank hard, liked his whisky and like his beer and up until a few years ago he loved his cigars and pipe. He was a blasphemous, racist bigot, hated God and half his fellow men. A true product of his generation, as most of us are. A hard man who was born into hard times. Raised on rationed food that was often out of date, brush of the mouse droppings and cut off the mould, its still good to eat. So said a man who died at 82, and yet we all throw out food that is 1 day past its use by date. He played in bombed out ruins with bits of wrecked furniture and vehicles and yet, even without a health and safety mad society, somehow survived into old age. He lived through a war where the dead didn't make the headlines as you couldn't fit all the names of the dead on the front page without using an unreadable font size. and later when it was his turn to serve found himself being shot at by some of the very people we had been fighting to save.
Through his life he had suffered a few heart attacks and approximately 11 different types of cancer. He drank and smoked and survived. Life threw many obstacles at him over the years but he kept on keeping on. In the end it was the after effects of a 2nd stroke that finally brought this man among men down.
My daughter never really got to know him as there was 200 miles between us, but she will grow up knowing of him and my mother. He will be missed dearly but it was time for him to go. Suffering is undignified and unnecessary for all of us and one day the law will evolve beyond the narrow minded morons that would keep people suffering for as long as they possibly could. At least he suffered little in his last days and finally slipped away in his sleep.
Here's to my Father who will be missed and loved by all. I hope he's managed to finally hold hands with Mum once more, he's been waiting 21 years to be able to see her again.
He was 82 years old and had a good life. He was a father to 5 children (3 boys, 2 girls) and a Grandfather to 8 and just recently a Great Grandfather to 1.
He served in the army just after WWII over in the middle east. Long before Sadam Hussain or Bin Laden made it fashionable to point fingers and spout hatred against the region. He was there as they ripped the region apart to create Israel. He saw his friend shot and was himself shot at while over there and spent much of his old age recounting stories from that time, as many of his generation do. In fact he used to joke that he was the only private to serve in the army over there as everyone of his age that he ever talked to always claimed to be a Captain, Sargent, Corporal or any other type of officer, but he was always proud to say he was just a private. After all it wasn't about rank it was about being there, just like the troops of today.
After his time over there he married his sweetheart, my mother Maureen (whom my daughter was named after) and they remained married until she passed away 21 years ago. He worked hard to provide for his family and eventually moved into what was to become the family home, which he bought for a song back in the late 70s early 80s. As I grew up I soon learnt that he had a strict and steady hand and was a man not to be crossed. He was harder on my brothers and sisters than he ever was with me as I was the youngest. In fact there used to be a belt hung by the fire place that was used to discipline us but I escaped ever feeling its sting as one of my siblings removed it from its hook and made it disappear, to this day I don't know who it was. Though for all his strict rules and attitude he always ensured we had at least one holiday a year. And it was always fun.
He was a hard man, a bastard who on occasion made my mother cry. He worked hard and drank hard, liked his whisky and like his beer and up until a few years ago he loved his cigars and pipe. He was a blasphemous, racist bigot, hated God and half his fellow men. A true product of his generation, as most of us are. A hard man who was born into hard times. Raised on rationed food that was often out of date, brush of the mouse droppings and cut off the mould, its still good to eat. So said a man who died at 82, and yet we all throw out food that is 1 day past its use by date. He played in bombed out ruins with bits of wrecked furniture and vehicles and yet, even without a health and safety mad society, somehow survived into old age. He lived through a war where the dead didn't make the headlines as you couldn't fit all the names of the dead on the front page without using an unreadable font size. and later when it was his turn to serve found himself being shot at by some of the very people we had been fighting to save.
Through his life he had suffered a few heart attacks and approximately 11 different types of cancer. He drank and smoked and survived. Life threw many obstacles at him over the years but he kept on keeping on. In the end it was the after effects of a 2nd stroke that finally brought this man among men down.
My daughter never really got to know him as there was 200 miles between us, but she will grow up knowing of him and my mother. He will be missed dearly but it was time for him to go. Suffering is undignified and unnecessary for all of us and one day the law will evolve beyond the narrow minded morons that would keep people suffering for as long as they possibly could. At least he suffered little in his last days and finally slipped away in his sleep.
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| Me, 1 month old Kara Maureen and Dad 2009 |
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| My Dad with My fantastic Romanian In-Laws 2006 |
Ernest Stocks 1929 - 2012
Till next time.....
The Voice has spoken.
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
Life In The Fast Lane
Commuting, commuting commuting.
What is it that makes people lose all common sense, regard for others, manners and any sign of happiness when they commute. Do they purposely get up late every morning so they have to run at every leg of their journey. Perhaps they constantly forget to set their alarm clocks when they go to bed, so they have to arrange their clothes and do their make up while on the bus. Just what is it about commuters that seems to transform them from perfectly normal, cheerful human beings into high speed growling monsters.
Ive been working in the city (no I haven't become an evil banker or high powered business man, just an office tea boy ;-) ) for almost a month, commuting for the first time in my life by public transport. The first day I tried the train but since then I've opted for tube and bus. I get up at just before six and I'm out of the door by seven. In this time I will often iron my shirt, make my lunch, have a shower (calm down ladies) get boogie out of her cot, make her milk and my dear wife's morning coffee. I am still at the bus stop by just after 7, on the tube by half past and walking into work by 5 to 8. Yet on my journey I see, on a daily basis, people running from the bus stop to the tube station, pouncing down the escalator and diving onto the train. Even ramming their arm into the tube doors to stop them closing. WHY?!
My journey takes me up the northern line from Tooting Broadway to the Embankment. Sometimes, as some of you will know, I will have to change at Kennington where the Northern line splits into two. At this point it is not uncommon to see people charge out of the doors of one tube and run as fast as they can to the other tube in order to get a seat, EVEN IF THEY ARE GETTING OF AT THE NEXT STOP!!!!!!!
The crazy thing is people will cram onto the first train they can even if it means they have to change at Kennington, while I always check the board to see where the next train is going and if that one goes past Embankment then I will wait for that one. Now this one will arrive usually 2 to 3 minutes after the one Ive opted not to get on and guess what. I always get a seat, and their are always seats left when it leaves the station. On my morning journey the only place I usually have to stand is when I catch the District line from Embankment to Temple , 1 stop so even if their was a seat I wouldn't use it.
The journey back is even more ridiculous. On the short jump from Temple to Embankment I always stand as I do in the morning, but then the fun begins. As I wait for the Northern line train the platform slowly gets more crowded, but never to the point where we can barely move. When the train arrives it usually only goes as far as Kennington where everyone must change. But, if you check the board the train that goes all the way is usually only a few minutes behind so, like in the morning, if its on the board I wait. While I'm standing their the train will arrive and I'll watch as people cram themselves into the train like sardines in a tin, pushing and shoving and ramming their news papers in people faces. I always find it baffling why people step on the train and immediately stand right there instead of moving down the carriage. Why do they do this? They could be going all the way to the end and yet they will stand right by the door causing people to squeeze by them when they get off and others to squeeze past them as they get on. Any way, I digress.
So there they are shoving and pushing to get on a train that most of them will have to change from anyway once they reach Kennington. I on the other hand, exercising a little patience, wait for the train that goes all the way and 9 out of 10 times I will walk right into a seat when it arrives. So this leads me to ask the question, why do people feel the need to rush like idiots when they commute??
In the morning I get up just over an hour before I leave, patiently travel to work and always get their on time. On an evening I have to get home in time to pick Boogie up from nursery, does this mean i rush like a deranged lunatic, hell no. I travel with patience once again and always get to the nursery with at least 20 minutes to spare. So what is it that I am doing differently to everyone else? and Why don't they change the way they travel? I mean people seem so stressed out in the morning, running from here to their, pushing and shoving any body that gets in their way. All that stress and they haven't even got to work yet, what the hell are they like when they finish work? Especially if it has been a stressful day for them.
So to finish off.
If you have to commute, if your stuck using public transport to get to and from work every day then don't be a moron. Don't get stressed out before your day has even started. If you don't have enough time in the morning then just set your alarm a few minutes earlier. If you feel like you must push and shove your way through the journey home then just stop and question why, your home will still be there if you arrive 10 minutes later that usual. The food won't go off if your 20 minutes late in starting to cook your tea. Your kids aren't going to abandon you if your a little later that you used to be. The world won't end if you decide to just take things a little slower. In short, RELAX, its not the end of the world. In a 100 years no body's going to give a damn if you suddenly decide to take it easy and enjoy the journey, hell no body is going to care next week never mind in 100 years.
So here's wishing a good journey to you all.
Till next time....
The Voice has spoken
What is it that makes people lose all common sense, regard for others, manners and any sign of happiness when they commute. Do they purposely get up late every morning so they have to run at every leg of their journey. Perhaps they constantly forget to set their alarm clocks when they go to bed, so they have to arrange their clothes and do their make up while on the bus. Just what is it about commuters that seems to transform them from perfectly normal, cheerful human beings into high speed growling monsters.
Ive been working in the city (no I haven't become an evil banker or high powered business man, just an office tea boy ;-) ) for almost a month, commuting for the first time in my life by public transport. The first day I tried the train but since then I've opted for tube and bus. I get up at just before six and I'm out of the door by seven. In this time I will often iron my shirt, make my lunch, have a shower (calm down ladies) get boogie out of her cot, make her milk and my dear wife's morning coffee. I am still at the bus stop by just after 7, on the tube by half past and walking into work by 5 to 8. Yet on my journey I see, on a daily basis, people running from the bus stop to the tube station, pouncing down the escalator and diving onto the train. Even ramming their arm into the tube doors to stop them closing. WHY?!
My journey takes me up the northern line from Tooting Broadway to the Embankment. Sometimes, as some of you will know, I will have to change at Kennington where the Northern line splits into two. At this point it is not uncommon to see people charge out of the doors of one tube and run as fast as they can to the other tube in order to get a seat, EVEN IF THEY ARE GETTING OF AT THE NEXT STOP!!!!!!!
The crazy thing is people will cram onto the first train they can even if it means they have to change at Kennington, while I always check the board to see where the next train is going and if that one goes past Embankment then I will wait for that one. Now this one will arrive usually 2 to 3 minutes after the one Ive opted not to get on and guess what. I always get a seat, and their are always seats left when it leaves the station. On my morning journey the only place I usually have to stand is when I catch the District line from Embankment to Temple , 1 stop so even if their was a seat I wouldn't use it.
The journey back is even more ridiculous. On the short jump from Temple to Embankment I always stand as I do in the morning, but then the fun begins. As I wait for the Northern line train the platform slowly gets more crowded, but never to the point where we can barely move. When the train arrives it usually only goes as far as Kennington where everyone must change. But, if you check the board the train that goes all the way is usually only a few minutes behind so, like in the morning, if its on the board I wait. While I'm standing their the train will arrive and I'll watch as people cram themselves into the train like sardines in a tin, pushing and shoving and ramming their news papers in people faces. I always find it baffling why people step on the train and immediately stand right there instead of moving down the carriage. Why do they do this? They could be going all the way to the end and yet they will stand right by the door causing people to squeeze by them when they get off and others to squeeze past them as they get on. Any way, I digress.
So there they are shoving and pushing to get on a train that most of them will have to change from anyway once they reach Kennington. I on the other hand, exercising a little patience, wait for the train that goes all the way and 9 out of 10 times I will walk right into a seat when it arrives. So this leads me to ask the question, why do people feel the need to rush like idiots when they commute??
In the morning I get up just over an hour before I leave, patiently travel to work and always get their on time. On an evening I have to get home in time to pick Boogie up from nursery, does this mean i rush like a deranged lunatic, hell no. I travel with patience once again and always get to the nursery with at least 20 minutes to spare. So what is it that I am doing differently to everyone else? and Why don't they change the way they travel? I mean people seem so stressed out in the morning, running from here to their, pushing and shoving any body that gets in their way. All that stress and they haven't even got to work yet, what the hell are they like when they finish work? Especially if it has been a stressful day for them.
So to finish off.
If you have to commute, if your stuck using public transport to get to and from work every day then don't be a moron. Don't get stressed out before your day has even started. If you don't have enough time in the morning then just set your alarm a few minutes earlier. If you feel like you must push and shove your way through the journey home then just stop and question why, your home will still be there if you arrive 10 minutes later that usual. The food won't go off if your 20 minutes late in starting to cook your tea. Your kids aren't going to abandon you if your a little later that you used to be. The world won't end if you decide to just take things a little slower. In short, RELAX, its not the end of the world. In a 100 years no body's going to give a damn if you suddenly decide to take it easy and enjoy the journey, hell no body is going to care next week never mind in 100 years.
So here's wishing a good journey to you all.
Till next time....
The Voice has spoken
Friday, 9 March 2012
An Un-Expected Journey
Seven years ago my life changed forever, I met my wife. Now many of you are probably thinking, 'Yeh, big deal. My life changed when I met my partner also.' Well your right, that does change your life. But you see, until I met Otilia I never, and I mean never, wanted children. I had no interest in having any, never did and thought I never would. I was always the favourite uncle to many kids (that's because I refuse to grow up, even now) but the idea of having my own just never entered my mind. Until I met Otilia.
Once we were married and had settled into married life we decided that we were ready to have a child. We were lucky enough to get pregnant pretty quick and after the usual period we found our selves in hospital with the baby well and truly on its way. Unfortunately the labour was hard and after what seemed like a week Otilia was taken in for a cesarean section. It was a nerve racking and intense time, sitting next to her as the doctor cut her open but once they had lifted out this little thing with a thick head of dark hair my heart just melted and a tear ran from my eye. I walked over to where they were cleaning the baby up and when they handed this beautiful tiny girl to me I just couldn't believe that she was mine.
Her name had been decided upon long before she was born, Kara. Named after the cousin of Kal-el (superman), you see I always said if we had a boy I wanted to call it Kal-el as it would have come from super genes, however the baby turned out to be a girl and this threw me a little bit. But then I looked up what Supergirls Kryptonian name was and it turned put to be Kara. A name that we both liked a great deal. But from the moment she was born I've called her Boogie.
Over the last few years she has grown from one of the most beautiful babies ever to a beautiful, cheeky, blond haired Boogie. She claimed my heart the moment she was born and she still holds it now (along with her mother) She changed my life completely and I will be forever the better person for it. I never wanted it, never expected it, never planed it but fatherhood is the greatest thing I have ever achieved in my life. Ive always been a survivor, Ive always managed to get past any challenge life has put in my way. From a broken heart, the breakup of my first marriage, ill health and the loss of my Mother to that horrible thing known as cancer. I have always made it through. But the idea that something should happen to Boogie.... The idea alone is like a nightmare. I don't know if I could make it past that, I don't know if I could survive or indeed want to. As, I'm sure, any decent parent would feel. But, even though she puts the fear of god into me every time she hurts her self, I wouldn't have it any other way.
She's my Boogie and I will never judge her, criticise her or be disappointed in her. No matter what she achieves in life or where the journey takes her she will always be my little girl and I will always be there for her.
Next week she turns 3. Where has the time gone? Its going to be great, this will be the first birthday that she really knows whats going on, what the presents are for and why every one has come to see her. She will have a party, she will see her friends and me and Otilia will spoil her like crazy. We will spend too much money, I will probably eat too much food but you know what. I don't care, it will all be worth it just to see her smile.
All the feelings i have felt, all the love that consumes me every time she calls out daddy, all the smiles and laughter that fills my heart I owe to one person. My dear, lovely and beautiful wife Otilia. Without whom I would never have taken this journey into parenthood. The 2 ladies in my life, Otilia and Kara (Boogie). I love them both, more than then will ever truly realise, more than I will ever be able to truly show.
My family, whom I shall cherish, provide for and protect forever.
Till next time....
The Voice has spoken.
Once we were married and had settled into married life we decided that we were ready to have a child. We were lucky enough to get pregnant pretty quick and after the usual period we found our selves in hospital with the baby well and truly on its way. Unfortunately the labour was hard and after what seemed like a week Otilia was taken in for a cesarean section. It was a nerve racking and intense time, sitting next to her as the doctor cut her open but once they had lifted out this little thing with a thick head of dark hair my heart just melted and a tear ran from my eye. I walked over to where they were cleaning the baby up and when they handed this beautiful tiny girl to me I just couldn't believe that she was mine.
Her name had been decided upon long before she was born, Kara. Named after the cousin of Kal-el (superman), you see I always said if we had a boy I wanted to call it Kal-el as it would have come from super genes, however the baby turned out to be a girl and this threw me a little bit. But then I looked up what Supergirls Kryptonian name was and it turned put to be Kara. A name that we both liked a great deal. But from the moment she was born I've called her Boogie.
Over the last few years she has grown from one of the most beautiful babies ever to a beautiful, cheeky, blond haired Boogie. She claimed my heart the moment she was born and she still holds it now (along with her mother) She changed my life completely and I will be forever the better person for it. I never wanted it, never expected it, never planed it but fatherhood is the greatest thing I have ever achieved in my life. Ive always been a survivor, Ive always managed to get past any challenge life has put in my way. From a broken heart, the breakup of my first marriage, ill health and the loss of my Mother to that horrible thing known as cancer. I have always made it through. But the idea that something should happen to Boogie.... The idea alone is like a nightmare. I don't know if I could make it past that, I don't know if I could survive or indeed want to. As, I'm sure, any decent parent would feel. But, even though she puts the fear of god into me every time she hurts her self, I wouldn't have it any other way.
She's my Boogie and I will never judge her, criticise her or be disappointed in her. No matter what she achieves in life or where the journey takes her she will always be my little girl and I will always be there for her.
Next week she turns 3. Where has the time gone? Its going to be great, this will be the first birthday that she really knows whats going on, what the presents are for and why every one has come to see her. She will have a party, she will see her friends and me and Otilia will spoil her like crazy. We will spend too much money, I will probably eat too much food but you know what. I don't care, it will all be worth it just to see her smile.
All the feelings i have felt, all the love that consumes me every time she calls out daddy, all the smiles and laughter that fills my heart I owe to one person. My dear, lovely and beautiful wife Otilia. Without whom I would never have taken this journey into parenthood. The 2 ladies in my life, Otilia and Kara (Boogie). I love them both, more than then will ever truly realise, more than I will ever be able to truly show.
My family, whom I shall cherish, provide for and protect forever.
Till next time....
The Voice has spoken.
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Pancake Day With Boogie
What better day to celebrate Pancake Day than to make them with my little girl Kara, AKA Boogie.
Believe it or not this is the first time in my 42 years that I have made pancakes, don't ask me why it took me so long it just has.
When I picked Boogie up from nursery she immediately told me that she had made a pancake at snack time and when I asked her if she wanted to help Daddy cook some she immediately jumped at the chance.
She sat on the worktop as I mixed the basics together and as she watched she told em that she had her own utensils and wanted me to get them. A few seconds later I was back from her play kitchen with her tiny utensils. Real metal ones purchased from IKEA. And so she began to help me mix. Pretty soon we were ready to start.
One pancake down and all was looking good until. Boog looked at the pancake and said that it need some sauce and proceeded to poor some of the mix onto the cooked pancake. I couldn't help but laugh and just threw the pancake back back in the pan to cook the freshly added mix.
With a small pile of pancakes ready we sat down to eat them with some nutty chocolate spread.
They were sweet, they were yummy, it was filling and it was fun.
Hope you had a fun and filling pancake day as well.
Till next time......
The Voice has spoken.
Believe it or not this is the first time in my 42 years that I have made pancakes, don't ask me why it took me so long it just has.
When I picked Boogie up from nursery she immediately told me that she had made a pancake at snack time and when I asked her if she wanted to help Daddy cook some she immediately jumped at the chance.
She sat on the worktop as I mixed the basics together and as she watched she told em that she had her own utensils and wanted me to get them. A few seconds later I was back from her play kitchen with her tiny utensils. Real metal ones purchased from IKEA. And so she began to help me mix. Pretty soon we were ready to start.
One pancake down and all was looking good until. Boog looked at the pancake and said that it need some sauce and proceeded to poor some of the mix onto the cooked pancake. I couldn't help but laugh and just threw the pancake back back in the pan to cook the freshly added mix.
With a small pile of pancakes ready we sat down to eat them with some nutty chocolate spread.
They were sweet, they were yummy, it was filling and it was fun.
Hope you had a fun and filling pancake day as well.
Till next time......
The Voice has spoken.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Fun In The Sun, A Holiday Memory
As the title says this post is about a memorable holiday in the sun. Unfortunately it was the winter sun and it was freezing outside. I say unfortunately but actually the weather put an edge on it that otherwise wouldn't have been there. So here goes, my memorable holiday in the sun. Cue Sex Pistols song.
Back in 2004 I ventured out down a long and lonely road with only the vaguest idea in which direction I would inevitably end up travelling. After a few memorable months on the roads of Europe I eventually ended up in Romania, where I met my lovely wife Otilia (AKA Romanianmuminlondon). You may have read her blog, if not then do so now.
We met in a club in Bucharest and pretty soon were spending every day together. After celebrating Christmas and New Year in Bucharest the girlfriend of one of my friends said she could get us a house in the mountains of Transylvania for a few days. We immediately jumped at the chance.
And so it was that a week later a group of us set out for the mountains surrounding Brasov.
At the bus station in Bucharest we got the first glimpse of our transport for the next couple of hours, a minibus that didn't look big enough for our small group never mind the cue of passengers that were waiting at the stand. But half an hour later all people were on board and the bus trundled its way down the cold and ice covered streets of Bucharest. It was cramped and it wasn't particularly warm in the bus but at least me and Otilia had managed to get a seat next to each other. For the next couple of hours we wound our way around narrow, pot hole filled country roads. Through small towns and tiny run down villages. All very beautifully covered in thick deep white fluffy snow.
Eventually we made it, shaken but alive, to Brasov. A beautiful place that I highly recommend (along with the rest of Romania) At Brasov we met up with some other people and piled our selves into a couple of cars for the short journey up the mountain to the house. By the time we were dropped off it was dark, even colder and very late. A short walk from the muddy mountain road we found our selves faced with a large white house. As we entered, the true nature of our accommodation became apparent. Minimal lighting, no water (not even in the toilets), constant power cuts and just wood in the cellar to heat the house with. Did this dampen our spirits, hell no, it just made us try even harder to have fun.
Each room had in it a masonry heater. You place wood in the bottom, let it burn and it heats up the bricks creating a large heater. We quickly got these heating the rooms, something my wife is very adept at, and then got on with the business of having fun.
With the dawn of the next day the true beauty of the surrounding area could be seen. The trees were bare of leaves, the ground white with thick snow and the lake just a little down from the house was completely frozen over. Otilia and I headed out for an early morning walk to blast the cobwebs from our heads, needed after the drinks of the previous night. From the other side of the lake the cold and dominant house looked like something you would see in a horror movie. Think Evil Dead by a frozen lake.
After our walk we got back to the house and began chopping more wood for the heaters and the barbecue, after all people have to eat. As I mentioned at the start this house had no water what so ever (thank god for beer) so the toilet was, well, where ever you wanted it to be. You get the idea. After all we were in a secluded house in the mountains. After another walk in the woods we stayed in the house listening to music until the sun went down. Or should I say dropped as it seemed to disappear very fast and needless to say the real mountain coldness came back with a vengeance. Once the sun fell we collected wood from the cellar, piled it on the barbecue and lit a fire to be proud off. Cooked Romanian sausages were eaten, songs were sung and beer was drunk. The evening was tremendous. The woods looked fantastic in the moonlight and the soft glow of the fire and the sky was a brilliant mass of shining stars.
The following day was much the same as the one before, after all were in Evil Dead Vampire country. What else are you gonna do?? The evening was once again filled with great food, a hot fire, singing and drinking.
The next day, we packed our things and headed back on the road to Bucharest, stopping briefly to see the church that one of the girls was re-painting the murals in. Stunning work.
The journey back was much the same as the journey there and after a couple of days in the mountains Bucharest just didn't seem that cold any more.
Was this the best holiday I have ever had? No. Was this the best memory from my year bumming it around the bars of Europe? No. So why have I chosen to write about this particular memory? Simple really, it was the first time I holidayed with my wife. And lets face it, no water, power cuts, wood heaters, food and beer.
What better way to spend a few days with friends.
I would have provided a few pictures but unfortunately they are all on a CD in a pile of CD's and it would take me a week to find them. Maybe next time.
The voice has spoken.
This was our entry to the Tots100/ Al Fresco Holidays competition. Their sites look amazing and we would totally love to visit one someday, for now it’s a muddy camp site in Norfolk for us! There’s still time to enter the competition – take a look here.
Back in 2004 I ventured out down a long and lonely road with only the vaguest idea in which direction I would inevitably end up travelling. After a few memorable months on the roads of Europe I eventually ended up in Romania, where I met my lovely wife Otilia (AKA Romanianmuminlondon). You may have read her blog, if not then do so now.
We met in a club in Bucharest and pretty soon were spending every day together. After celebrating Christmas and New Year in Bucharest the girlfriend of one of my friends said she could get us a house in the mountains of Transylvania for a few days. We immediately jumped at the chance.
And so it was that a week later a group of us set out for the mountains surrounding Brasov.
At the bus station in Bucharest we got the first glimpse of our transport for the next couple of hours, a minibus that didn't look big enough for our small group never mind the cue of passengers that were waiting at the stand. But half an hour later all people were on board and the bus trundled its way down the cold and ice covered streets of Bucharest. It was cramped and it wasn't particularly warm in the bus but at least me and Otilia had managed to get a seat next to each other. For the next couple of hours we wound our way around narrow, pot hole filled country roads. Through small towns and tiny run down villages. All very beautifully covered in thick deep white fluffy snow.
Eventually we made it, shaken but alive, to Brasov. A beautiful place that I highly recommend (along with the rest of Romania) At Brasov we met up with some other people and piled our selves into a couple of cars for the short journey up the mountain to the house. By the time we were dropped off it was dark, even colder and very late. A short walk from the muddy mountain road we found our selves faced with a large white house. As we entered, the true nature of our accommodation became apparent. Minimal lighting, no water (not even in the toilets), constant power cuts and just wood in the cellar to heat the house with. Did this dampen our spirits, hell no, it just made us try even harder to have fun.
Each room had in it a masonry heater. You place wood in the bottom, let it burn and it heats up the bricks creating a large heater. We quickly got these heating the rooms, something my wife is very adept at, and then got on with the business of having fun.
With the dawn of the next day the true beauty of the surrounding area could be seen. The trees were bare of leaves, the ground white with thick snow and the lake just a little down from the house was completely frozen over. Otilia and I headed out for an early morning walk to blast the cobwebs from our heads, needed after the drinks of the previous night. From the other side of the lake the cold and dominant house looked like something you would see in a horror movie. Think Evil Dead by a frozen lake.
After our walk we got back to the house and began chopping more wood for the heaters and the barbecue, after all people have to eat. As I mentioned at the start this house had no water what so ever (thank god for beer) so the toilet was, well, where ever you wanted it to be. You get the idea. After all we were in a secluded house in the mountains. After another walk in the woods we stayed in the house listening to music until the sun went down. Or should I say dropped as it seemed to disappear very fast and needless to say the real mountain coldness came back with a vengeance. Once the sun fell we collected wood from the cellar, piled it on the barbecue and lit a fire to be proud off. Cooked Romanian sausages were eaten, songs were sung and beer was drunk. The evening was tremendous. The woods looked fantastic in the moonlight and the soft glow of the fire and the sky was a brilliant mass of shining stars.
The following day was much the same as the one before, after all were in Evil Dead Vampire country. What else are you gonna do?? The evening was once again filled with great food, a hot fire, singing and drinking.
The next day, we packed our things and headed back on the road to Bucharest, stopping briefly to see the church that one of the girls was re-painting the murals in. Stunning work.
The journey back was much the same as the journey there and after a couple of days in the mountains Bucharest just didn't seem that cold any more.
Was this the best holiday I have ever had? No. Was this the best memory from my year bumming it around the bars of Europe? No. So why have I chosen to write about this particular memory? Simple really, it was the first time I holidayed with my wife. And lets face it, no water, power cuts, wood heaters, food and beer.
What better way to spend a few days with friends.
I would have provided a few pictures but unfortunately they are all on a CD in a pile of CD's and it would take me a week to find them. Maybe next time.
The voice has spoken.
This was our entry to the Tots100/ Al Fresco Holidays competition. Their sites look amazing and we would totally love to visit one someday, for now it’s a muddy camp site in Norfolk for us! There’s still time to enter the competition – take a look here.
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
A Skeleton From The Closet
Ive found myself thinking of friends recently, I don't know why but its been on my mind for a few weeks now. I thought it was time I shared a ghost from my past with you. Bared my soul so to speak, share the burden of secrecy, tragedy, betrayal and sadness that has been lurking in the darker corners of my mind for a few years now. Let the darkness unfold......
How many friends do you have? Before you answer that let me just clarify what I mean by friend. Forget the fake, pretend, un-real friends that many people gather on face book, twitter and the like. I'm not talking about some person you happen to chat to every now and then on the Internet but have never actually met. Not even the people you work with whom you may refer to as friends but if you quit work wouldn't miss at all. When I say friends I mean friends, true friends. People you would do anything for, people who you don't even have to see or speak to for months and yet if you suddenly needed them or they you, you would travel any distance to be with. People you would trust no matter what. That is what I mean by friend.
I am lucky enough to have a few of these friends, not too many (I don't believe any one has) but a hand full. That's all a person needs really, not too many but we all need one or two.The last time I added to this my list was 7 years ago when I was lucky enough to be able to add 2 people to my true friend list. Little did I know that only a few months after adding these 2 I would be scratching 1 from the list forever.
How well do you truly know a person?
I will ask this question again at the end, please don't take it to heart. I still trust impeccably those that remain on my list, but how well do any of us know any one else?
Some of you will know, some of you won't, but Ive been married before. I don't usually mention this but its relevance here is important so there you have it. At my wedding I chose one of my friends, as we all do, to be my best man. That is the true measure of friendship, to ask this of a person you must have a place in your heart for them. this man accepted of course. I had been the best man at his wedding a year earlier so it was no surprise really. This is usually a bond that cements a friendship forever. Usually!
We had been friends since we met when I was 16 and by the time I got married at 28 our friendship had grown very close. When he met his wife we (my wife included) went on holiday together, we drank together, we laughed together, we bared our wounds and healed together. Within a few years I had separated from my wife and moved to London. I still called in from time to time to see my friend and his family. They had 2 children, from a previous relationship of hers, that he had taken on and treated as his own. A young boy and his older sister.
After been in London for a few years with nothing happening in my life I left the country and bummed around Europe for a year. It was on this trip that I met Yiu Chi and Stef, 2 people that to this day I consider family. It was while in Turkey, camping on the southern coast of Turkey (Datca) that I received a call from my brother.
My friend had been arrested.
He stood accused of molesting his stepdaughter.
I was shocked, I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. But it was.
When I returned to England I visited the old factory I used to work at, the place where I first met my friend. After speaking with my old mates the full extent of what had been happening became known.
The following is what I have been told by those who knew him at the time. I have seen no official report on the matter but have no reason to doubt any of it.
His wife become pregnant. They were both overjoyed as you would expect. Shortly after announcing it to the kids the daughter asked my friend in private what he was hoping for. He answered that he would like a girl......... as he had finished with her!!! The following day at school she broke down in class and it all came flooding out. The following few days the true depth of his crimes became known. When the police arrested him they searched his car and found, hidden in the boot, child pornography. They searched his computer and found the same, there were even movies that he had filmed of his daughter by using cameras hidden in her bedroom and bathroom.
He was sentenced to 5 years (only!!!) due to a glowing character reference by his mother. Well she's not going to give him a bad one is she. 5 years for destroying an innocents life.
To say I was shocked is an understatement. This was a man whom I loved like a brother, he was kin, I trusted him implicitly. I felt unclean because I had cared so much for him, I felt betrayed because I had trusted him. I even felt a touch of guilt for not knowing what he was capable of. It made me think of an event that happened years earlier. I don't know for how many years he had been doing what he was doing but around 6 years earlier he and his wife were at my house and we were just making small talk as friends do. When they told me a story. At the time it seemed humorous, an innocent statement that could easily have been taken the wrong way.
One evening he had gone into the girls bedroom to kiss her goodnight. He thought she was asleep and she never made it known to him that she wasn't. The following day she came down and told her mother that he had touched her. He laughed and said he had stroked her hair as she was asleep and didn't want to wake her by kissing her. They laughed, the girl went on getting ready for school. When they told me this I too laughed as I, along with his wife, would never have believed it could have been anything else. Were we wrong, was that the first instance of the horror to come. Could we have, together, stopped him from doing anything else. I will never know.
I haven't seen his wife since this happened, slightly through fear. Right or wrong I simply wouldn't know what to say, how do you even begin to approach a subject like this. I have tried in the last couple of years to find her but, I trust, she now goes by her maiden name as I haven't been able to locate her through her married name and unfortunately I can't remember what her maiden name was. Shame on me.
I have no idea why this has all come to mind recently or why I felt I needed to share it with you but it does feel good to right it down. Maybe its a delayed reaction to a friend request I got on Facebook a few months back. It was from him. Why he would think I would want to know him now I have no idea, especially since I have a, soon to be, 3 year old daughter.
To finish off, I ask you once again. How well do you truly know a person?
Think about it, but don't give yourself nightmares.
Till next time....
The voice has spoken.
How many friends do you have? Before you answer that let me just clarify what I mean by friend. Forget the fake, pretend, un-real friends that many people gather on face book, twitter and the like. I'm not talking about some person you happen to chat to every now and then on the Internet but have never actually met. Not even the people you work with whom you may refer to as friends but if you quit work wouldn't miss at all. When I say friends I mean friends, true friends. People you would do anything for, people who you don't even have to see or speak to for months and yet if you suddenly needed them or they you, you would travel any distance to be with. People you would trust no matter what. That is what I mean by friend.
I am lucky enough to have a few of these friends, not too many (I don't believe any one has) but a hand full. That's all a person needs really, not too many but we all need one or two.The last time I added to this my list was 7 years ago when I was lucky enough to be able to add 2 people to my true friend list. Little did I know that only a few months after adding these 2 I would be scratching 1 from the list forever.
How well do you truly know a person?
I will ask this question again at the end, please don't take it to heart. I still trust impeccably those that remain on my list, but how well do any of us know any one else?
Some of you will know, some of you won't, but Ive been married before. I don't usually mention this but its relevance here is important so there you have it. At my wedding I chose one of my friends, as we all do, to be my best man. That is the true measure of friendship, to ask this of a person you must have a place in your heart for them. this man accepted of course. I had been the best man at his wedding a year earlier so it was no surprise really. This is usually a bond that cements a friendship forever. Usually!
We had been friends since we met when I was 16 and by the time I got married at 28 our friendship had grown very close. When he met his wife we (my wife included) went on holiday together, we drank together, we laughed together, we bared our wounds and healed together. Within a few years I had separated from my wife and moved to London. I still called in from time to time to see my friend and his family. They had 2 children, from a previous relationship of hers, that he had taken on and treated as his own. A young boy and his older sister.
After been in London for a few years with nothing happening in my life I left the country and bummed around Europe for a year. It was on this trip that I met Yiu Chi and Stef, 2 people that to this day I consider family. It was while in Turkey, camping on the southern coast of Turkey (Datca) that I received a call from my brother.
My friend had been arrested.
He stood accused of molesting his stepdaughter.
I was shocked, I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. But it was.
When I returned to England I visited the old factory I used to work at, the place where I first met my friend. After speaking with my old mates the full extent of what had been happening became known.
The following is what I have been told by those who knew him at the time. I have seen no official report on the matter but have no reason to doubt any of it.
His wife become pregnant. They were both overjoyed as you would expect. Shortly after announcing it to the kids the daughter asked my friend in private what he was hoping for. He answered that he would like a girl......... as he had finished with her!!! The following day at school she broke down in class and it all came flooding out. The following few days the true depth of his crimes became known. When the police arrested him they searched his car and found, hidden in the boot, child pornography. They searched his computer and found the same, there were even movies that he had filmed of his daughter by using cameras hidden in her bedroom and bathroom.
He was sentenced to 5 years (only!!!) due to a glowing character reference by his mother. Well she's not going to give him a bad one is she. 5 years for destroying an innocents life.
To say I was shocked is an understatement. This was a man whom I loved like a brother, he was kin, I trusted him implicitly. I felt unclean because I had cared so much for him, I felt betrayed because I had trusted him. I even felt a touch of guilt for not knowing what he was capable of. It made me think of an event that happened years earlier. I don't know for how many years he had been doing what he was doing but around 6 years earlier he and his wife were at my house and we were just making small talk as friends do. When they told me a story. At the time it seemed humorous, an innocent statement that could easily have been taken the wrong way.
One evening he had gone into the girls bedroom to kiss her goodnight. He thought she was asleep and she never made it known to him that she wasn't. The following day she came down and told her mother that he had touched her. He laughed and said he had stroked her hair as she was asleep and didn't want to wake her by kissing her. They laughed, the girl went on getting ready for school. When they told me this I too laughed as I, along with his wife, would never have believed it could have been anything else. Were we wrong, was that the first instance of the horror to come. Could we have, together, stopped him from doing anything else. I will never know.
I haven't seen his wife since this happened, slightly through fear. Right or wrong I simply wouldn't know what to say, how do you even begin to approach a subject like this. I have tried in the last couple of years to find her but, I trust, she now goes by her maiden name as I haven't been able to locate her through her married name and unfortunately I can't remember what her maiden name was. Shame on me.
I have no idea why this has all come to mind recently or why I felt I needed to share it with you but it does feel good to right it down. Maybe its a delayed reaction to a friend request I got on Facebook a few months back. It was from him. Why he would think I would want to know him now I have no idea, especially since I have a, soon to be, 3 year old daughter.
To finish off, I ask you once again. How well do you truly know a person?
Think about it, but don't give yourself nightmares.
Till next time....
The voice has spoken.
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