Where do I start? How do I hope to continue And of course, However will I finish as I feel the all too familiar slowing of my thoughts, My silent opinions, My private charms dissipating letting go, Gradually giving up their lease on my mind, Now more like unwelcome squatters, Cast aside by the tyrannical landlord whom they until now served so well, Thrown to the ditch soon to be forgotten, Unable to fulfil their duties now...Unsure of where to go now...Never the less, They go now...they go ...They've gone...now!
As the mind slows it reaches a jubcture where it can give no more to the illness, Anymore would render it usless, Anymore and the senses would dull the pain to the extent that what comes now would never be felt And whats the use of pain if you don't get to experience it, If you're denied the sweet agony of your own personal pain, Not a familiar pain created by the heart, No, not a pain as you yearn for that one great love...That unrequited love, That pain spent so many nights agonising over, That pain you're sure will never pass...but it doe's...It always doe's! A different kind of pain!
So now the body begins to capitulate, Slowly at first not wanting to give up it's devine designs of the day, The fingers are usually the first to go, Cramping so bad they take on the appearance of claws, Useless and turning purple to boot! Then comes the involuntary leg and arm spasms cramping the calves so bad that it seems every little muscle has a personal score to settle, The years of abuse on the basketball court, Or the hours each day tearing down muscle fibers with excessive weight in the hope of creating the body beautiful!
Now unable to rise from the couch, Unable to even vocalise as a heavy shadow of apathy rests on my skin making me feel defenceless....useless even, certainly without opinion!
Now it's time to play host to every regret in my life to date blaming every lttle damaging thing I've ever done To find myself in this predicament now, But really knowing that whatever the reason for the cells of the substansia nigra to perish and stop producing dopamine, There was nothing I could have done to save them!
It's said that before I would have noticed the first symtoms, eighty per cent of the damage would have been done, A cruel blessing I guess As there is a saying, That if you worry about the worst case scenario and it happens anyway...You've lived it twice! So probably better this way.
And although I have for the most part accepted my fate, I still wonder was it genetic or enviornmental that caused this cruel joke called Parinson's Or was it just a freak accident of fate...Perhaps my genetics were the loaded gun and the envionment pulled the trigger!
I guess I'll never know on my journey into Life in gradual slow motion. But what I do know for certain is that as it progresses and by it's nature that's what it will do... that yesterday will always be the best day I've ever had!
Shaky Dave.
Friday 17 May 2013
Thursday 10 January 2013
Metres to miles...
Every step is one of uncertainty, I'm not happy about this And I voice my objections privately through gritted teeth! Will I make it to the door? I don't know...I should do! It's only five more meters, Sure I could fall three times with my six foot frame and I'd be there!
If so will I fumble with the keys as I lean against the wall feeling the chilled beads of sweat racing down my forehead stopping only when I feel the familiar sting in my eyes, Trying to catch my breath as its snatched out of my chest by the cold dead hand of this night.
Refuge?...My usually sharp senses now dulled as I step into the elevator, Staring at the numbers, They mean little to me now as they play their little game of mathematical dyslexia with me...Gazing down at the hand that now so often betrays me , I aim for three It decides instead on five, Lofty aspirations...It's all penthouses there...So five it is!
Just a five metre period of my life from yesterday where I figured it out, While Parkinson's robs my body... It rewards my mind!! And time doesn't matter anymore on my journey into life in gradual slow motion... It's all about distance!
Shaky Dave.
If so will I fumble with the keys as I lean against the wall feeling the chilled beads of sweat racing down my forehead stopping only when I feel the familiar sting in my eyes, Trying to catch my breath as its snatched out of my chest by the cold dead hand of this night.
Refuge?...My usually sharp senses now dulled as I step into the elevator, Staring at the numbers, They mean little to me now as they play their little game of mathematical dyslexia with me...Gazing down at the hand that now so often betrays me , I aim for three It decides instead on five, Lofty aspirations...It's all penthouses there...So five it is!
Just a five metre period of my life from yesterday where I figured it out, While Parkinson's robs my body... It rewards my mind!! And time doesn't matter anymore on my journey into life in gradual slow motion... It's all about distance!
Shaky Dave.
Friday 9 November 2012
Setting trends and saving lives...
Eyes open, Just a moment of confusion As I tried to figure out where I was...What room was i in? Not my usual room! 7...9? No, Definitely 8! It was a very distinctive room, An L shaped room, With three single beds, Soft beds, Too soft, Lovely to sit on But murder on the back to sleep on!
That was the problem with living in a hotel your Father owned, Never staying in one room long enough to actually call your own, Instead I stayed in rooms 5 through 9, Rarely in 1 through 4, And never in 10 through 12 on the third floor...They were haunted! I scanned the room through my imaginary telescope cupping my hands taking in the world an inch at a time Which of course translates to several inches the further away the target object is!
The small wooden crucifix on the wall, Hard to spot in a darkened room As it almost nearly matched in colour the timber panelling on the wall, The panelling that would today be considered an absolute fire hazard, And complimented by the Styrofoam cubes glued to the ceiling with I'm sure could only be the most flammable glue known to man, They were the ones that if you were to put a flame to them They would bubble and whistle and almost immediately start to drip a fiery substance that would stick to your skin And I'm sure would never go out...Not until you were dead anyway! , I imagined that they were Made from petrol or napalm or just fire itself perhaps! They were nasty.
As I lay there stretching and yawning it suddenly dawned on me...Today was the day, Aside from it being my birthday, My eleventh birthday! This was also the day I would collect my custom jacket from the Arcade, A haberdashery shop over the town next to the hairy bakers And Kenny's laundromat, Now when I say custom I really mean custom! How to describe this masterpiece, Picked out by me the previous summer at the Keen house men's clothing store two doors down from where I lived at the European Hotel, Was only the coolest chocolate brown corduroy hipster jacket with yellow double back stitching in all the right places, So as to be noticed...Of course, With metal buttons in a burnt brown to match the jackets colour, The kind of buttons that really were too big for the corresponding holes on the opposite side of the jacket, So in winter time you'd almost break a frozen purple knuckle just trying to fasten them! Of course it could be argued today that perhaps it was more of a summer coat And it would be more suitable in winter to wear A winter coat!! But back then we didn't have a summer coat and a winter coat...We just had a coat! Take your pick It was either a duffel coat with those funny bear tooth buttons attached by a piece of leather, These coats arrived in one of two colours, Brown or grey...Or if like me you committed to the big purchase in Summer And had to forgo the sensible decision the following winter as I did, The best that could be expected was a revamp of the old, Something to juice it up And boy this was gonna be orange juice, Freshly squeezed orange juice!
Barely washed, Such was the excitement, I made my way down stairs to the kitchen to be greeted by Noreen Houlihan and Mary McKevitt both of whom worked as house keepers there, As well as acting as surrogate Mothers for me when the need arose, One such occasion was of course arriving home from school My head covered in nits, Out came the horrible oil and the nit comb...No complaints, Just job done! They were always loud and full of chat and gossip as they cleaned, They were their own best audience those two! Fixing my breakfast and smoking cigarettes and cracking jokes All at the same time! I might add.
I took a seat at the kitchen table banging my knee on the way as usual, The damn table was too small for the size of the room, A painful lesson I learnt most mornings,
As I chewed on my toast with a million little eleven year old ideas floating around in my head, anybody watching could be forgiven for thinking I was in a trance, Truth be known I was aware of every little thing within my limited vision, Everything, The brown stains on the gloss paint at ceiling height which would indicate A chip pan fire in recent times, The long stringy black cobweb swaying and devoid of all life for some time now as it hung from the extractor fan over the door, The red fish box on the floor with a dozen giant crabs shuffling about......Wait a minute, The what? In seconds I was there on my knees gazing down in wonder watching them battle for the four corners where I guess it must be instinct, Perhaps the aggression levels are increased there, Hence the saying, Don't back him into a corner! Watching their veiled threats towards each other rising and falling trying to appear larger than life for that split second when the four in the corners were temporarily pushed out and replaced only to push back in like a Physcotic merry go round! I say veiled threats because they had thick rubber bands on their claws so as not to hurt each other!
Now I'm sure that if I could have communicated with these poor fellows and explain the term veiled threat to them, They would probably tell me to fuck off And that the term veiled doesn't apply here, Unless it means Shitting yourself as your hauled up several hundred feet out of the water then thrown about the deck of a boat for hours having your claws tied up chucked in a box Brought to a hotel and put on tonight's menu Then in that case, They were all very veiled indeed!
Never the less they were on tonight's menu, A special request from a group of Dutch anglers staying at the Hotel.
I started to feel sorry for them!
At eleven years old, As a boy anyway, You tend to have the attention span of a monkey chewing on a loaded gun, So by the time I had exited the front door of the Hotel and made the right turn at the Oval bar with the intention of collecting my jacket I had completely forgotten about the giant crabs in the red box, Making my way along the town The sea on my left and the multi coloured buildings to the right, Broken up only on occasion by the odd unkept building where the paint had turned a sickly grey and had begun to bubble and flake, I don't think people noticed as they were too busy smiling and saluting each other, We did that alot back then, It would be somewhat naive of me to say for the average person that there were fewer things to worry about back then,I guess in actual fact we just had less, So we had less to worry about! And certainly for an eleven year old on his birthday, There were no worries!
I entered the Arcade temporarily blinded as my eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness, Quickly recognising the landscape of the shop, It kind of had a magical feel to it with brightly coloured materials hanging from the ceiling height open door presses which stretched to the end of the long narrow room, Chased by a waist high glass cabinet full of brightly coloured ribbons And more buttons than I had ever seen in my life! I was sure there just couldn't be enough button holes in the world to accommodate all these buttons!
The ladies in the shop were lovely and their personalities seemed to suit the location perfectly, They made a bit of a fuss of me pinching my cheek and asking did I have a girlfriend? To which my only reaction was to turn a brighter shade of red than any piece of material they had on the premises,
Even with all the unwanted attention I had to endure My embarrassment would soon be replaced by a sense of pride as I waited for my jacket, And there she was The familiar brown corduroy and yellow stitching the same as I had left it in But the new addition were the bright red badges...Twenty two in all, All perfectly stitched on in no particular pattern, All making reference to Cork in one way or another...They read as follows, Up Cork...Cork is number one, I love Cork And finally Welcome to Cork, Not my favourite to be honest, I mean what if I were wearing the jacket in Kerry or some place like that, Sure I'd look stupid! Reading that back makes me laugh Because of course in my mind then it was that that made me look stupid!
As I left the shop, Shoulders back chin up and very prideful indeed, Like a peacock displaying his wonderful plumage, Picture that opening scene from Saturday night fever, When John Travolta was as he left the hardware store strutting his stuff to the music of the Bee jees smoking a cigarette swinging a tin of paint Almost dancing as he walked, Exuding confidence, Knowing all eye's were on him....Now forget that scene Because I looked nothing like that!
The sad fact is that I wore the jacket But as I walked home I stuck as close to the buildings on my left as I could, like a sheep on a ledge, Head down, Not embarrassed by my new jacket that stuck out, More self conscience as any eleven year old would naturally be, At that age you must never get noticed and draw unwanted attention less you were to incur the wrath of the school yard bullies! Though they were called school yard bullies There was always a chance you could run into them downtown, In which case they then became...Well...Just bullies! I'll include the word just in that term for the simple reason that back then that's exactly what they were, Just bullies!
Today however there's a whole new sinister side to this despicable behaviour As I hear from my daughter on a regular basis, The term is Cyber bullies! Just how lazy doe's one have to be that you wont get off your fat ass and go look for a victim, Cu-do's to bullies I grew up with, At least you showed some initiative!!! Today they sit there barely even able to type with their fat sausage like fingers, Trolling for victims and making up stories, This is what I tell my daughter But more importantly I remind her that all stories have a semblance of truth to them, By that I mean that these cyber bullies are most likely just projecting the things they hate most about themselves onto others! It's called Empowering yourself by dis empowering others! Oh Anus!!!!! I mean Aenus... Aenus Lane's hardware shop on the main street of Cobh is what I meant to say, My father had asked me, even though it was my birthday today To please go to Lanes hardware store and order a couple of large bottles of Calor gas Or he wouldn't be able to cook dinner for the hotel guests, Imagine that, Putting the fate of the inhabitants of the entire hotel in the hands of an eleven year old, I mean what could possibly go wrong?
Anyway...Into anus I went...What, No I mean I slipped into anus...Fuck...Stop!....................................
I walked into Mr Lanes shop And anyone who remembers Will recall A man of 6ft2 to 6ft3 Broad shoulders bursting out of his grey suit, Bald other than the bit of silver on the sides And always had money in his shovel for a hand! As I made my way up the isle past the selection of gas bottles, There must have been forty of them I came to the selection of gas heaters, There were a dozen at least, It struck me, How could this man have Forty bottles of heating gas, twelve gas heaters and still have the coldest shop in Cork! The answer wasn't long coming As I approached the little office off to the side to place an order The door burst open and there he was towering over me Money in hand screaming for the solitary girl on the floor, He looked down and started mumbling something all the while surveying the scene, His mumbling became more pronounced ...Cork... Up Cork...Welcome to...Aaaggh! He turned on his heels and shot back into his office, I was perplexed, what was he talking about, Oh my jacket! I had in that moment of terror completely forgotten about it, As the door closed behind him A waft of warm air hit my face, Warm air from the heater he had on in there, The warm air he worked in while his staff...Well did not!
Leaving the shop I was hit by a brisk march wind, Still it seemed warmer out here and I ended that encounter with a shiver down my spine And away I went.
Reaching the front door of the Hotel I noticed my dads car was not there, Which meant he and Trish my sister were still in Cork buying me a present, Trish was a cool sister to have A couple of years older than me and very striking! I say that now with ease as my age affords me that luxury , But back then she was to me at least Uuggh! Well what do you expect she was my sister, Still she was very much admired by a lot of older boys in town Which in a strange way increased my street cred somewhat And guaranteed me to some extent a level of protection from the afore mentioned bullies!
Listen to me, Street cred and Cobh, You'd swear we live in Fort Apache the Bronx!
I thought I'd wait outside for them to see what it was they had bought for me But my imagination got the better of me As I was watched the fishing boats pass by lynches Quay and went off into world of my own Wondering what it would be like to work on a boat, To catch fish and lobsters and sharks and Crabs, Crabs...Oh my god the CRABS were probably dying in that box that big red box! Suffocating or drowning on fresh air or however they died!
I really felt sorry for them...
I had to do something!!
Before my Father could climb out of the car and stop me I had tipped the big red box on it's side, Watching the crabs slide across each other then across the green weed that covered the slip, Amazingly they all landed upright and without hesitation they were back to the place Whence they came...Blowing bubbles and raising a claw, I like to think to the kid who adored Cork so much He advertised it on his cloths!
When the rollicking finished And my Fathers face turned to it's normal shade of purple He put his arm around me and said...Well I'm glad you took the rubber bands off their claws...
My heart sank.
P's For my birthday I received a grey Duffel coat....Up Cork!
For you Ann O' Brien.
Hope it makes you laugh.
That was the problem with living in a hotel your Father owned, Never staying in one room long enough to actually call your own, Instead I stayed in rooms 5 through 9, Rarely in 1 through 4, And never in 10 through 12 on the third floor...They were haunted! I scanned the room through my imaginary telescope cupping my hands taking in the world an inch at a time Which of course translates to several inches the further away the target object is!
The small wooden crucifix on the wall, Hard to spot in a darkened room As it almost nearly matched in colour the timber panelling on the wall, The panelling that would today be considered an absolute fire hazard, And complimented by the Styrofoam cubes glued to the ceiling with I'm sure could only be the most flammable glue known to man, They were the ones that if you were to put a flame to them They would bubble and whistle and almost immediately start to drip a fiery substance that would stick to your skin And I'm sure would never go out...Not until you were dead anyway! , I imagined that they were Made from petrol or napalm or just fire itself perhaps! They were nasty.
As I lay there stretching and yawning it suddenly dawned on me...Today was the day, Aside from it being my birthday, My eleventh birthday! This was also the day I would collect my custom jacket from the Arcade, A haberdashery shop over the town next to the hairy bakers And Kenny's laundromat, Now when I say custom I really mean custom! How to describe this masterpiece, Picked out by me the previous summer at the Keen house men's clothing store two doors down from where I lived at the European Hotel, Was only the coolest chocolate brown corduroy hipster jacket with yellow double back stitching in all the right places, So as to be noticed...Of course, With metal buttons in a burnt brown to match the jackets colour, The kind of buttons that really were too big for the corresponding holes on the opposite side of the jacket, So in winter time you'd almost break a frozen purple knuckle just trying to fasten them! Of course it could be argued today that perhaps it was more of a summer coat And it would be more suitable in winter to wear A winter coat!! But back then we didn't have a summer coat and a winter coat...We just had a coat! Take your pick It was either a duffel coat with those funny bear tooth buttons attached by a piece of leather, These coats arrived in one of two colours, Brown or grey...Or if like me you committed to the big purchase in Summer And had to forgo the sensible decision the following winter as I did, The best that could be expected was a revamp of the old, Something to juice it up And boy this was gonna be orange juice, Freshly squeezed orange juice!
Barely washed, Such was the excitement, I made my way down stairs to the kitchen to be greeted by Noreen Houlihan and Mary McKevitt both of whom worked as house keepers there, As well as acting as surrogate Mothers for me when the need arose, One such occasion was of course arriving home from school My head covered in nits, Out came the horrible oil and the nit comb...No complaints, Just job done! They were always loud and full of chat and gossip as they cleaned, They were their own best audience those two! Fixing my breakfast and smoking cigarettes and cracking jokes All at the same time! I might add.
I took a seat at the kitchen table banging my knee on the way as usual, The damn table was too small for the size of the room, A painful lesson I learnt most mornings,
As I chewed on my toast with a million little eleven year old ideas floating around in my head, anybody watching could be forgiven for thinking I was in a trance, Truth be known I was aware of every little thing within my limited vision, Everything, The brown stains on the gloss paint at ceiling height which would indicate A chip pan fire in recent times, The long stringy black cobweb swaying and devoid of all life for some time now as it hung from the extractor fan over the door, The red fish box on the floor with a dozen giant crabs shuffling about......Wait a minute, The what? In seconds I was there on my knees gazing down in wonder watching them battle for the four corners where I guess it must be instinct, Perhaps the aggression levels are increased there, Hence the saying, Don't back him into a corner! Watching their veiled threats towards each other rising and falling trying to appear larger than life for that split second when the four in the corners were temporarily pushed out and replaced only to push back in like a Physcotic merry go round! I say veiled threats because they had thick rubber bands on their claws so as not to hurt each other!
Now I'm sure that if I could have communicated with these poor fellows and explain the term veiled threat to them, They would probably tell me to fuck off And that the term veiled doesn't apply here, Unless it means Shitting yourself as your hauled up several hundred feet out of the water then thrown about the deck of a boat for hours having your claws tied up chucked in a box Brought to a hotel and put on tonight's menu Then in that case, They were all very veiled indeed!
Never the less they were on tonight's menu, A special request from a group of Dutch anglers staying at the Hotel.
I started to feel sorry for them!
At eleven years old, As a boy anyway, You tend to have the attention span of a monkey chewing on a loaded gun, So by the time I had exited the front door of the Hotel and made the right turn at the Oval bar with the intention of collecting my jacket I had completely forgotten about the giant crabs in the red box, Making my way along the town The sea on my left and the multi coloured buildings to the right, Broken up only on occasion by the odd unkept building where the paint had turned a sickly grey and had begun to bubble and flake, I don't think people noticed as they were too busy smiling and saluting each other, We did that alot back then, It would be somewhat naive of me to say for the average person that there were fewer things to worry about back then,I guess in actual fact we just had less, So we had less to worry about! And certainly for an eleven year old on his birthday, There were no worries!
I entered the Arcade temporarily blinded as my eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness, Quickly recognising the landscape of the shop, It kind of had a magical feel to it with brightly coloured materials hanging from the ceiling height open door presses which stretched to the end of the long narrow room, Chased by a waist high glass cabinet full of brightly coloured ribbons And more buttons than I had ever seen in my life! I was sure there just couldn't be enough button holes in the world to accommodate all these buttons!
The ladies in the shop were lovely and their personalities seemed to suit the location perfectly, They made a bit of a fuss of me pinching my cheek and asking did I have a girlfriend? To which my only reaction was to turn a brighter shade of red than any piece of material they had on the premises,
Even with all the unwanted attention I had to endure My embarrassment would soon be replaced by a sense of pride as I waited for my jacket, And there she was The familiar brown corduroy and yellow stitching the same as I had left it in But the new addition were the bright red badges...Twenty two in all, All perfectly stitched on in no particular pattern, All making reference to Cork in one way or another...They read as follows, Up Cork...Cork is number one, I love Cork And finally Welcome to Cork, Not my favourite to be honest, I mean what if I were wearing the jacket in Kerry or some place like that, Sure I'd look stupid! Reading that back makes me laugh Because of course in my mind then it was that that made me look stupid!
As I left the shop, Shoulders back chin up and very prideful indeed, Like a peacock displaying his wonderful plumage, Picture that opening scene from Saturday night fever, When John Travolta was as he left the hardware store strutting his stuff to the music of the Bee jees smoking a cigarette swinging a tin of paint Almost dancing as he walked, Exuding confidence, Knowing all eye's were on him....Now forget that scene Because I looked nothing like that!
The sad fact is that I wore the jacket But as I walked home I stuck as close to the buildings on my left as I could, like a sheep on a ledge, Head down, Not embarrassed by my new jacket that stuck out, More self conscience as any eleven year old would naturally be, At that age you must never get noticed and draw unwanted attention less you were to incur the wrath of the school yard bullies! Though they were called school yard bullies There was always a chance you could run into them downtown, In which case they then became...Well...Just bullies! I'll include the word just in that term for the simple reason that back then that's exactly what they were, Just bullies!
Today however there's a whole new sinister side to this despicable behaviour As I hear from my daughter on a regular basis, The term is Cyber bullies! Just how lazy doe's one have to be that you wont get off your fat ass and go look for a victim, Cu-do's to bullies I grew up with, At least you showed some initiative!!! Today they sit there barely even able to type with their fat sausage like fingers, Trolling for victims and making up stories, This is what I tell my daughter But more importantly I remind her that all stories have a semblance of truth to them, By that I mean that these cyber bullies are most likely just projecting the things they hate most about themselves onto others! It's called Empowering yourself by dis empowering others! Oh Anus!!!!! I mean Aenus... Aenus Lane's hardware shop on the main street of Cobh is what I meant to say, My father had asked me, even though it was my birthday today To please go to Lanes hardware store and order a couple of large bottles of Calor gas Or he wouldn't be able to cook dinner for the hotel guests, Imagine that, Putting the fate of the inhabitants of the entire hotel in the hands of an eleven year old, I mean what could possibly go wrong?
Anyway...Into anus I went...What, No I mean I slipped into anus...Fuck...Stop!....................................
I walked into Mr Lanes shop And anyone who remembers Will recall A man of 6ft2 to 6ft3 Broad shoulders bursting out of his grey suit, Bald other than the bit of silver on the sides And always had money in his shovel for a hand! As I made my way up the isle past the selection of gas bottles, There must have been forty of them I came to the selection of gas heaters, There were a dozen at least, It struck me, How could this man have Forty bottles of heating gas, twelve gas heaters and still have the coldest shop in Cork! The answer wasn't long coming As I approached the little office off to the side to place an order The door burst open and there he was towering over me Money in hand screaming for the solitary girl on the floor, He looked down and started mumbling something all the while surveying the scene, His mumbling became more pronounced ...Cork... Up Cork...Welcome to...Aaaggh! He turned on his heels and shot back into his office, I was perplexed, what was he talking about, Oh my jacket! I had in that moment of terror completely forgotten about it, As the door closed behind him A waft of warm air hit my face, Warm air from the heater he had on in there, The warm air he worked in while his staff...Well did not!
Leaving the shop I was hit by a brisk march wind, Still it seemed warmer out here and I ended that encounter with a shiver down my spine And away I went.
Reaching the front door of the Hotel I noticed my dads car was not there, Which meant he and Trish my sister were still in Cork buying me a present, Trish was a cool sister to have A couple of years older than me and very striking! I say that now with ease as my age affords me that luxury , But back then she was to me at least Uuggh! Well what do you expect she was my sister, Still she was very much admired by a lot of older boys in town Which in a strange way increased my street cred somewhat And guaranteed me to some extent a level of protection from the afore mentioned bullies!
Listen to me, Street cred and Cobh, You'd swear we live in Fort Apache the Bronx!
I thought I'd wait outside for them to see what it was they had bought for me But my imagination got the better of me As I was watched the fishing boats pass by lynches Quay and went off into world of my own Wondering what it would be like to work on a boat, To catch fish and lobsters and sharks and Crabs, Crabs...Oh my god the CRABS were probably dying in that box that big red box! Suffocating or drowning on fresh air or however they died!
I really felt sorry for them...
I had to do something!!
Before my Father could climb out of the car and stop me I had tipped the big red box on it's side, Watching the crabs slide across each other then across the green weed that covered the slip, Amazingly they all landed upright and without hesitation they were back to the place Whence they came...Blowing bubbles and raising a claw, I like to think to the kid who adored Cork so much He advertised it on his cloths!
When the rollicking finished And my Fathers face turned to it's normal shade of purple He put his arm around me and said...Well I'm glad you took the rubber bands off their claws...
My heart sank.
P's For my birthday I received a grey Duffel coat....Up Cork!
For you Ann O' Brien.
Hope it makes you laugh.
Friday 26 October 2012
The five mile hide...
The knock came to the door as I suspected it would, Though i had sweated and fretted all evening praying it never would, But something had told me that this person had been in this position before and was doing one of two things, Maybe He was worried that his dirty little secret was out And his plan of action was to nip it in the bud perhaps apologising for the misunderstanding, believing that my father might reluctantly accept his explanation, not fully understanding what was being implied, Playing on the mixed emotions of what parents back then really wanted to believe,Sure why would he come over and more or less implicate himself in something that I failed to mention over the dinner table, unless of course it was all a big misunderstanding... I don't think there was any neglect on my fathers part, He certainly loved me as much as I love my own daughter, I just think that adults back then were more naive than we are today! I guess they had to make their minds up with less available information to hand, Unlike today with the tap of a button everything you need to know is there! And the more you use this service, The more blurred the facts become, Its not long before the answers you seek become fact, Whether there true or not! But back then parents had much less info to work with, It was OK to drink and drive, Cigarettes were harmless to children in the room, And neighbours didn't try to molest your kids!! Agia, my German Shepard was now standing at the inside porch door losing his mind barking like he was possessed, They do say that dogs are good judges of character,
I hoped this might be enough to drive off the unwelcome caller, I was slow to rise from the kitchen table, Partly because i just did not want to face this...this...absolute horror of a human being, But mostly because earlier that day I had thrown myself from a moving car to prevent myself from being, Well... I guess...Molested!
When i opened the door, I don't know what I expected But I didn't expect him to be smiling, Holding my school bag in his hand and beckoning for me to come outside, I froze looking at him through the outside glass door, Thinking that I should feel safe here, In my house, with my family, On my turf! But I didn't, Now more than ever I felt as vulnerable here trapped in the porch, As I had felt when I was forced earlier that day to throw myself from his moving car to avoid his unwelcome sexual advances, I just stood there uncomfortable, awkward...ashamed In the glass porch, The porch that to him must have from where he was standing resembled a goldfish bowl or worse still a menu board!
When he put his hand on the handle and attempted to open the door, Survival mode kicked in and I pushed open the door behind me, Allowing my now manic snarling German Shepard Agia into the porch, Within a second the glass door was covered in giant paw prints and a white foamy dogs saliva, The side of the dogs face pressed against the window, One eye fixed on the prize! Before that day I had never seen a dog actually bite glass!
Needles to say his attempts to open the door ceased, And I watched his face turn a sickly grey as he realised that he had lost the power, A power that all paedophiles rely on to control their victims!
And believe me now I realise I was a victim, But then there was sense of shame, A shame that makes you feel guilty, A shame that generally plays you right into their hands!
Thankfully as the dog continued with his rant the glass door turned an oppace colour from his breath, Hiding me, Hiding my face, At least hiding my shame!
He layed my bag down outside the door And slowly backed out of the gate, I could barely make out the profile of his grey suit through the foggy glass as he turned and started the engine of his blue renault 5, Which had a very distinct sound to it, Like a piston was misfiring, A sound that over the next year or so of my life, I was to become all too familiar with, As we played cat and mouse on the five mile stretch of road between Cobh and East ferry, A stretch of road I referred to as The five mile hide.
I want to stress that not for a minute do I consider myself a casuallty, Others may over the course of the next few weeks disagree as I attempt to make sense of that whole period of my life, These are true stories that I have shared with only a few people in my life, Week to week I will continue with excerpts from this trying and somewhat damaging period of my life, This is meant to help me, And in the meantime if other people can relate as I tell my story And ultimately expose the perpetrator of these heinous crimes...Well more power to all of us!
Regards Dave.
I hoped this might be enough to drive off the unwelcome caller, I was slow to rise from the kitchen table, Partly because i just did not want to face this...this...absolute horror of a human being, But mostly because earlier that day I had thrown myself from a moving car to prevent myself from being, Well... I guess...Molested!
When i opened the door, I don't know what I expected But I didn't expect him to be smiling, Holding my school bag in his hand and beckoning for me to come outside, I froze looking at him through the outside glass door, Thinking that I should feel safe here, In my house, with my family, On my turf! But I didn't, Now more than ever I felt as vulnerable here trapped in the porch, As I had felt when I was forced earlier that day to throw myself from his moving car to avoid his unwelcome sexual advances, I just stood there uncomfortable, awkward...ashamed In the glass porch, The porch that to him must have from where he was standing resembled a goldfish bowl or worse still a menu board!
When he put his hand on the handle and attempted to open the door, Survival mode kicked in and I pushed open the door behind me, Allowing my now manic snarling German Shepard Agia into the porch, Within a second the glass door was covered in giant paw prints and a white foamy dogs saliva, The side of the dogs face pressed against the window, One eye fixed on the prize! Before that day I had never seen a dog actually bite glass!
Needles to say his attempts to open the door ceased, And I watched his face turn a sickly grey as he realised that he had lost the power, A power that all paedophiles rely on to control their victims!
And believe me now I realise I was a victim, But then there was sense of shame, A shame that makes you feel guilty, A shame that generally plays you right into their hands!
Thankfully as the dog continued with his rant the glass door turned an oppace colour from his breath, Hiding me, Hiding my face, At least hiding my shame!
He layed my bag down outside the door And slowly backed out of the gate, I could barely make out the profile of his grey suit through the foggy glass as he turned and started the engine of his blue renault 5, Which had a very distinct sound to it, Like a piston was misfiring, A sound that over the next year or so of my life, I was to become all too familiar with, As we played cat and mouse on the five mile stretch of road between Cobh and East ferry, A stretch of road I referred to as The five mile hide.
I want to stress that not for a minute do I consider myself a casuallty, Others may over the course of the next few weeks disagree as I attempt to make sense of that whole period of my life, These are true stories that I have shared with only a few people in my life, Week to week I will continue with excerpts from this trying and somewhat damaging period of my life, This is meant to help me, And in the meantime if other people can relate as I tell my story And ultimately expose the perpetrator of these heinous crimes...Well more power to all of us!
Regards Dave.
Tuesday 8 May 2012
There is no end to this story...
I guess I shouldn't feel guilty But the look I was getting from two old dears, Well lets just say daggers! But up until then I had been oblivious to them, Nattering away passing remarks about anyone they could clap their eyes on, looking for a reason to have an opinion on anyone who didn't meet their high standards of whats right and wrong, I started to feel a bit self conscious as their voices dropped a bit as I approached but I still picked up the jist of it...Look at yer man, Look at the way he parked sure he almost fell over gettin out of the van And sure look he cant walk straight....Someone should call the Guards on him He's pissed with the drink!
Sometimes I'm confounded to see that people think that its perfectly acceptable to insult and judge others based on a hunch, Now when I was younger things like this would just be like water off a ducks back And I would have said nothing or more likely i wouldn't have known what to say, But I think as you get older you've got so much more to say, A better command of the English language if you like! Even though it appears no one really wants to hear what you say, never the less my opinion will be heard! So I stopped and addressed the situation, I explained to them that I have Parkinsons disease and that sometimes I find it difficult to move freely, And that if they were concerned they could have simply asked what was wrong and I would have explained, They're response was one of confusion, I got a perturbed look from one, A pause...And then quick as you like, Isn't that what yer man Mickey little fella off dat film back to de past had?...You know yer man with de flyin car! I could hardly contain the laughter as I corrected her That it was actually Michael J Fox and the film was back to the future!She looked puzzled and said We thought you were drunk And we didn't want to be rude, I laughed said my goodbyes and turned to head across the street to the Stillorgan shopping centre and Pondering their thought process, We were talking about you behind your back as we didn't want to be rude! Is that just an Irish thing? No surely its just a human thing! Who knows...
Its great to see that tesco's have remodelled their store, Still a little bit on the small size But at least they seem to have utilised the limited space they had putting it to better use, I don't wish to sound disabled but being symptomatic with Parkinsons can happen at any moment, And usually that would be likely when you're shopping in a place like this, Where the isles were too narrow and were generally cluttered up with recently delivered boxes any day of the week, Which might suggest they were short of storage space. But first I had to head to the Post office to grab a stamp for the blue envelope I held in my hand which contained a ticket with three stars exposed on it, For the show Winning streak...My god the least you can win is ten grand...How bad! Now I don't generally get so excited about such things, As I don't usually purchase these tickets, Maybe I should...get excited a bit more I mean! Maybe have more of an air of expectancy, Don't they say expecting it opens the door to receiving it!! Or words to that effect, No it was kindly purchased by a relation of my brother in law Paul and given to his wife Margaret, My sister, Now it wouldn't be fair to Margaret to mention that she first scratched the card to see if she had won any money...She hadn't, And then gave the card to me...She did! Fair or not I've mentioned it...Sorry Marg,
Hold tough though, The story gets a wee bit more interesting While walking to the post office which is directly under Brambles bistro at the far end of the centre, Someone put their arms around me from behind and squeezed, After my initial shock when I realised I wasn't being mugged I relaxed and the person let go, When I turned I was surprised to see my fourteen year old daughter Emily Jade standing there, With her hair plaided on one side of her head and the other side hanging down freely, An odd symmetry but it worked on her! Her ray bans which she assured me have made a come back hanging off the end of her nose so she was looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes, Its about now that I usually start reaching for cash, She never asks for it, But i feel like i have to give her everything all the time, I guess that's the effect that teenager girls have on their fathers! I suspect we know it wont be long till that someone, more age appropriate, Cute and sooooo cool captures their attentions! At least temporarily, Until eventually she gets her little heart broken And all I will want to do is sort it...But I guess I know that will be the domain of her Mother! For the moment at least I'll take any attention i can get! Already I can see a look of regret on her face, Shes now wondering was it such a good idea to have made herself known, Should she have instead quietly slipped past me and said nothing, Its just that there is an air of awkwardness about our meetings now, Never since I was her age have i felt so out of place or indeed awkward, Remembering how as a juvenile overflowing with testosterone My friends and I would compete for the attentions of a girl we liked Which usually meant holding court with her friends as well, Entertaining them all equally but making her best friend who would usually be sitting next to her, laugh only as much as she was laughing herself, Any more and you would be guilty of flirting, Any less and you were subject to the eyes rolling in her head and a look of disdain that only girls know how to deliver! And then you knew you blew it! While I never yet received those eyes from Emily, Not that I'm aware of anyway, The simple fact is and I'm going to educate all Fathers out there who's daughters have yet to reach the age of fourteen...I'm 46...She's fourteen...Everything I say is boring, Everything she says comes out of Justin Biebers...Or at least the depressed, skinny and mopey girl from Twilights mouth!
It's an age thing, It also a Father-Daughter thing that has been going on long before I got here, And no doubt will continue long after I leave!
I guess the lesson for me here is that relationships change and improve, Whether it be the few muddled moments spent in the company of those two old ladies or lifetime I will spend loving my daughter And at times understanding that on occasions it will be unrequited love!
Sometimes I'm confounded to see that people think that its perfectly acceptable to insult and judge others based on a hunch, Now when I was younger things like this would just be like water off a ducks back And I would have said nothing or more likely i wouldn't have known what to say, But I think as you get older you've got so much more to say, A better command of the English language if you like! Even though it appears no one really wants to hear what you say, never the less my opinion will be heard! So I stopped and addressed the situation, I explained to them that I have Parkinsons disease and that sometimes I find it difficult to move freely, And that if they were concerned they could have simply asked what was wrong and I would have explained, They're response was one of confusion, I got a perturbed look from one, A pause...And then quick as you like, Isn't that what yer man Mickey little fella off dat film back to de past had?...You know yer man with de flyin car! I could hardly contain the laughter as I corrected her That it was actually Michael J Fox and the film was back to the future!She looked puzzled and said We thought you were drunk And we didn't want to be rude, I laughed said my goodbyes and turned to head across the street to the Stillorgan shopping centre and Pondering their thought process, We were talking about you behind your back as we didn't want to be rude! Is that just an Irish thing? No surely its just a human thing! Who knows...
Its great to see that tesco's have remodelled their store, Still a little bit on the small size But at least they seem to have utilised the limited space they had putting it to better use, I don't wish to sound disabled but being symptomatic with Parkinsons can happen at any moment, And usually that would be likely when you're shopping in a place like this, Where the isles were too narrow and were generally cluttered up with recently delivered boxes any day of the week, Which might suggest they were short of storage space. But first I had to head to the Post office to grab a stamp for the blue envelope I held in my hand which contained a ticket with three stars exposed on it, For the show Winning streak...My god the least you can win is ten grand...How bad! Now I don't generally get so excited about such things, As I don't usually purchase these tickets, Maybe I should...get excited a bit more I mean! Maybe have more of an air of expectancy, Don't they say expecting it opens the door to receiving it!! Or words to that effect, No it was kindly purchased by a relation of my brother in law Paul and given to his wife Margaret, My sister, Now it wouldn't be fair to Margaret to mention that she first scratched the card to see if she had won any money...She hadn't, And then gave the card to me...She did! Fair or not I've mentioned it...Sorry Marg,
Hold tough though, The story gets a wee bit more interesting While walking to the post office which is directly under Brambles bistro at the far end of the centre, Someone put their arms around me from behind and squeezed, After my initial shock when I realised I wasn't being mugged I relaxed and the person let go, When I turned I was surprised to see my fourteen year old daughter Emily Jade standing there, With her hair plaided on one side of her head and the other side hanging down freely, An odd symmetry but it worked on her! Her ray bans which she assured me have made a come back hanging off the end of her nose so she was looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes, Its about now that I usually start reaching for cash, She never asks for it, But i feel like i have to give her everything all the time, I guess that's the effect that teenager girls have on their fathers! I suspect we know it wont be long till that someone, more age appropriate, Cute and sooooo cool captures their attentions! At least temporarily, Until eventually she gets her little heart broken And all I will want to do is sort it...But I guess I know that will be the domain of her Mother! For the moment at least I'll take any attention i can get! Already I can see a look of regret on her face, Shes now wondering was it such a good idea to have made herself known, Should she have instead quietly slipped past me and said nothing, Its just that there is an air of awkwardness about our meetings now, Never since I was her age have i felt so out of place or indeed awkward, Remembering how as a juvenile overflowing with testosterone My friends and I would compete for the attentions of a girl we liked Which usually meant holding court with her friends as well, Entertaining them all equally but making her best friend who would usually be sitting next to her, laugh only as much as she was laughing herself, Any more and you would be guilty of flirting, Any less and you were subject to the eyes rolling in her head and a look of disdain that only girls know how to deliver! And then you knew you blew it! While I never yet received those eyes from Emily, Not that I'm aware of anyway, The simple fact is and I'm going to educate all Fathers out there who's daughters have yet to reach the age of fourteen...I'm 46...She's fourteen...Everything I say is boring, Everything she says comes out of Justin Biebers...Or at least the depressed, skinny and mopey girl from Twilights mouth!
It's an age thing, It also a Father-Daughter thing that has been going on long before I got here, And no doubt will continue long after I leave!
I guess the lesson for me here is that relationships change and improve, Whether it be the few muddled moments spent in the company of those two old ladies or lifetime I will spend loving my daughter And at times understanding that on occasions it will be unrequited love!
Tuesday 1 May 2012
Thursday 26 April 2012
Time to call it quits........
AGIA.....AGIIIAAAA....Here boy! then there was silence, I'd listen intently as the last of my voice would echo back at me, standing in a half perched stance with my hands cupped around my ears, centred on the crossroads at Belgrove east ferry, Placed squarely between Sean Hollands farm and Dinny sheehans facing our house at the bottom of the hill! The hill my Father used to use to start the car! And usually because of the stillness of the nights it wouldn't take long to recognise the change in the air, hearing Agia approaching across damp fields at great speed, his heavy paws, bigger than most could be heard and then felt through the ground! I was wondering had i dreamt him, Was I just imagining the sound? Out of desperation and anguish for the absence of a young boys companion, Nay friend...Possibly BEST FRIEND! It had been two days now, Not like him to be gone so long... I sat...whistled called again,,,and nothing!
We waited at the pitch cold crossroads being harassed by the fairies as they flew just out of view, some bold enough to chance a touch of our hair causing me to flail my arms wildly, This was usually enough to drive them off! They would disappear making a bee line for the Oak tree bordering Butlers farm, A huge tree that seemed to unfairly dominate the evening skyline! A tree that is believed to have sucked in daylight, More likely it just easily blocked out the light due to its size, But yes the nights drew in quicker because of that tree!
As the wind had picked up hearing anything was going to be tough! And the lads decided it was late and perhaps time to consider giving up the search for the night, I think they sensed perhaps it was a fruitless search, Here were four young boys on the hunt for a dog that was in dog years anyway, Older than us combined! The truth be known Dogs that went missing in the country side usually suffered a cruel but similar fate at the hands of a local farmer, Something I think they silently suspected but were reluctant to suggest!....And I was thankful for that.
I did what my friend later told me was very dangerous, I made my way to the woods on Butlers land...Their first objection was that its not safe what with the ferocious dog Jet, Agia knew jet personally, He had had a few gladiatorial schrimishes with him since we lived there,I'm not sure who had won because usually I would turn and run at the very start of these battles for fear that if Agia were to somehow lose, Jet might then turn his attentions to me! He was a competent foe, Jet, black as his name would suggest, Unusually long white fangs that he had no problem bearing, Yes we had had several encounters in the past and I suspected we may yet have more! I hoped!! Not that that worried me right now, it was there next move that chilled my spine....Daavvve...Their Orange men! theeiiir kiinnng billies boys!
Gotta say, totally lost on me, Other than I knew they were refering to the Butlers form of religion...I had lived in the States for the formative years, so i knew nothing of
"Orange king billy" Or Protestants either! The only reference I had heard back home was the term, White Anglo Saxon Protestants..Or wasps for short, Not nice...But not too defamatory! No it was in that ghostly tone that boys use on you as its getting dark and you've committed to the chase in the woods And you get that sinking feeling when you realise that they are actually heading home now!! Ya that's where the chill in my spine began! When I realised I was alone...
As I reluctantly pushed on through the woods I could still hear the lads screaming like Banshees, But they were too far away to have an ill effect, Until eventually and quite comically they started singing By the rivers of Babylon by Boney M? I Think! How weird now...but different times then, I guess,
And until I could hear them no more I was relatively safe, I don't know how that logic works as they were too far away to hear me not alone to help! But for me it worked!
I immediately became aware of more fairies swooping down using their sonar clicks to pass inches over my head, I don't know why we called them fairies and not Bats, Probably just some childish remark spoken then repeated by another and both laying claim to it as it seemed to quite please a girl in their company, So it stuck!
I continued deeper in until to be honest it was pitch black and I could see very little, Only as the moon on occasions was freed of its embrace by the clouds that seemed to be running across the night sky, Through the shards of moon light that flashed through the trees I could I thought make out a figure of a person in front of me and then there were two, three,ten....too many to count! They were making their way towards me arms extended, Shuffling, Moaning... My eyes closed involuntarily clamped shut, I couldn't,t open them even if I wanted too, My feet were stuck to the muddy ground, I couldn't run The chills literally ran the lenght of my spine finishing in my hair line on the back of my neck like boney fingers..........
Isn't the child's imagination a glorious thing, Of course when I did manage to open my eyes I realised I was alone, Time to call it quits for the night, As two days of missing in action was turning to three I made my way home out of the woods through the ploughed field that led to a gap in the hedge directly opposite my front door, The closer I got the more secure I felt, As I placed my foot on the wall with the intention of jumping past the nettles on the road side, I looked down and my heart sank...... My search was over...............
We waited at the pitch cold crossroads being harassed by the fairies as they flew just out of view, some bold enough to chance a touch of our hair causing me to flail my arms wildly, This was usually enough to drive them off! They would disappear making a bee line for the Oak tree bordering Butlers farm, A huge tree that seemed to unfairly dominate the evening skyline! A tree that is believed to have sucked in daylight, More likely it just easily blocked out the light due to its size, But yes the nights drew in quicker because of that tree!
As the wind had picked up hearing anything was going to be tough! And the lads decided it was late and perhaps time to consider giving up the search for the night, I think they sensed perhaps it was a fruitless search, Here were four young boys on the hunt for a dog that was in dog years anyway, Older than us combined! The truth be known Dogs that went missing in the country side usually suffered a cruel but similar fate at the hands of a local farmer, Something I think they silently suspected but were reluctant to suggest!....And I was thankful for that.
I did what my friend later told me was very dangerous, I made my way to the woods on Butlers land...Their first objection was that its not safe what with the ferocious dog Jet, Agia knew jet personally, He had had a few gladiatorial schrimishes with him since we lived there,I'm not sure who had won because usually I would turn and run at the very start of these battles for fear that if Agia were to somehow lose, Jet might then turn his attentions to me! He was a competent foe, Jet, black as his name would suggest, Unusually long white fangs that he had no problem bearing, Yes we had had several encounters in the past and I suspected we may yet have more! I hoped!! Not that that worried me right now, it was there next move that chilled my spine....Daavvve...Their Orange men! theeiiir kiinnng billies boys!
Gotta say, totally lost on me, Other than I knew they were refering to the Butlers form of religion...I had lived in the States for the formative years, so i knew nothing of
"Orange king billy" Or Protestants either! The only reference I had heard back home was the term, White Anglo Saxon Protestants..Or wasps for short, Not nice...But not too defamatory! No it was in that ghostly tone that boys use on you as its getting dark and you've committed to the chase in the woods And you get that sinking feeling when you realise that they are actually heading home now!! Ya that's where the chill in my spine began! When I realised I was alone...
As I reluctantly pushed on through the woods I could still hear the lads screaming like Banshees, But they were too far away to have an ill effect, Until eventually and quite comically they started singing By the rivers of Babylon by Boney M? I Think! How weird now...but different times then, I guess,
And until I could hear them no more I was relatively safe, I don't know how that logic works as they were too far away to hear me not alone to help! But for me it worked!
I immediately became aware of more fairies swooping down using their sonar clicks to pass inches over my head, I don't know why we called them fairies and not Bats, Probably just some childish remark spoken then repeated by another and both laying claim to it as it seemed to quite please a girl in their company, So it stuck!
I continued deeper in until to be honest it was pitch black and I could see very little, Only as the moon on occasions was freed of its embrace by the clouds that seemed to be running across the night sky, Through the shards of moon light that flashed through the trees I could I thought make out a figure of a person in front of me and then there were two, three,ten....too many to count! They were making their way towards me arms extended, Shuffling, Moaning... My eyes closed involuntarily clamped shut, I couldn't,t open them even if I wanted too, My feet were stuck to the muddy ground, I couldn't run The chills literally ran the lenght of my spine finishing in my hair line on the back of my neck like boney fingers..........
Isn't the child's imagination a glorious thing, Of course when I did manage to open my eyes I realised I was alone, Time to call it quits for the night, As two days of missing in action was turning to three I made my way home out of the woods through the ploughed field that led to a gap in the hedge directly opposite my front door, The closer I got the more secure I felt, As I placed my foot on the wall with the intention of jumping past the nettles on the road side, I looked down and my heart sank...... My search was over...............
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