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DRESS LIKE SPIDERMAN …

SOME PEOPLE WISH FOR RICHES

TO DRIVE IN FLASH CARS

MERCEDES OR PORCHE TO NAME BUT TWO

SOME PEOPLE WISH FOR EXPENSIVE THREADS

TO ADORN THEIR BACK

BY WEARING  DESIGNER SUITS

SOME  LIKE TO FLASH THEIR CASH

TO GO SHOPPING IN EXPENSIVE STORES

THESE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO FORGET TO REMEMBER

ME I’D LIKE TO GO BACK TO 1971

REMEMBER HOW COOL IT IS WAS TO BE A CHILD BACK THEN

TO BE  5 YEARS OLD

DRESS IN YOUR SPIDERMAN COSTUME

YOU GOT FOR CHRISTMAS 1970

TO BE RIDING YOUR BICYCLE

WHILST YOU PEDDLE DOWN THE ROAD

OF  POPPING BLACK TAR BUBBLES ON WARM SUNNY DAYS

MAKING BIRDS NEST OUT FRESHLY CUT GRASS

OH TO BE A CHILD A AGAIN IN 1971

COPYRIGHT JUNE BOLLAND 2014

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Jimmy Choo’s in my closet

An impromptu posting.

I was reading my past posts on my blog yesterday. A majority (about 90%) of the poems I share are biographical. It was interesting to look back on the past year just by reading the poems and the postings .It’s a bit like reading a journal you kept when you were a teenage,  smiling and thinking back on the past . I  recently stumbled across an old journal dated 1982 , in which I wrote  “ I think I’m in love with Sara Clark!” . But as a rule I don’t really like looking back into my past too much or at least I didn’t until I met Jo my fiancee (still can’t get my head around using that word to describe her even though it’s been 8 months since I proposed to her and more importantly she said yes!) .

I’ve realised through the postings and poems I’ve shared, it’s reminded me of  how so  much  has happened in the last year of this blog and in real life.

I written about breaks ups (J and had two brief separations early last year) wrote poems and impromptu blogs about how my mum dealt with the stress and the worry and of the  extremely long wait to find out if her cancer had come back or not. Thankfully she was given all clear in October. I’ve shared my thoughts in verse of how Jo’s heart condition deteriorated and how she had to be fitted with a pacemaker, which at 26 was young. I’ve documented my experiences of living with bipolar and described the relapses have I have suffered. I’ve shared my thoughts of my dad who passed 9 years ago and wrote poems about the sadness of my uncle’s passing (he was like a second father to me) . Oh and those poems which I have written for Jo.

I have learnt a lot about myself too. That it’s OK to let go, to expose the dark thoughts that invade my mind caused by my depression sometimes, whether it be in the form of poetry or even in just sharing my thoughts with Jo. But most of all It’s been a year of discovery, of knowing that I don’t have to carry this burden of stuff I’ve carried alone for so long, that far from me having fears of holding Jo back, I realise she is the one person who holds me up, and helps me carry the weight in fact just unburdens me of stuff that quite frankly doesn’t matter anymore and for that no amount of words can describe how much love I have for her. That’s why I proposed to her a week after her surgery on 19 July at Angel Bay, because I needed to show her how much I loved her and for once not just write about it . So we will have been together six years this July, happier than ever, albeit I have a closet full of her Jimmy Choo shoes crammed into my closets. That’s why I keep my shoes in the boot of my car! It  is worth the sacrifice !

So would I say my blog year has been good?  One word Yes! I lost the need to write for a while , but this past year I’ve realised that writing is therapeutic, it focuses the mind, cleanses it, makes you feel joyous (well it does me anyway! ) Then there is the added  bonus of meeting other wonderful people on here too (although I have met one or two narcissist on my journey who appear to be far more interested in the number of followers they have, how many like they get,and so pre-occupied with stats, than they are in writing or blogging, which saddens me because I am not like that, I write for me, the fact that anybody else reads my blog in all honesty astounds me, likes posts I upload, leave lovely comments and follow my blog is truly humbling. So a huge THANK YOU from me for taking time to read my blog, never mind pressing  the like button and commenting, and following, honestly I am for once lost for words.  Anyway off for a few days away by the sea, as its my birthday tomorrow, so taking the laptop with me so I can catch up on some blogs I have been meaning to read for a while, especially now as I also  have new glasses which have  dyslexic lenses, as  I dont know if some you realise I am dyslexic . So the glasses are a Godsend as sometimes other people’s work is sometimes hard to read. I’m OK with writing as I use a dyslexic word font . Anyway your comments are always appreciated.

One final thought: I wonder what ever happened to Sara Clark?

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Memories for a Birthday

dad birthday

MY 200th poem on wordpress, how fitting it should be written for my Father on what would have been his 81st birthday

There hasn’t been one day since you past

That I don’t think of you

Sometimes the thoughts are tinged with pain

But not today Dad

Today I think of good times

Happier times

Of the silly days we shared

Of times when I was small

When you sit me on your knee

And you’d read to me, sing to me

How I so miss your voice today

These are the days I want to remember today Dad

There are things we try to cling to

Of stories shared

Some memories can only be seen through photographs

But the most precious memories cannot be seen or heard

They are in every heartbeat that we feel

So today Dad

Happy Birthday

Wherever your spirit soars

With love from me your little girl

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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All of you! …

At-the-River-212x300Saturday afternoon

With nothing much to do

Your  catching up with your work

Typing reports

And

I’m staring out of  the window

Thinking like I usually do

Tracing the raindrops

As they dance down the window pane

I glance at you

Concentration on your face

It got me thinking

What was it I first noticed about you?

Was it your eyes?

Hypnotic blue that cast a spell over me

Was it your long locks of golden blonde?

That radiated me towards you

Was it your mouth full and inviting?

Your lips have always been enticing

Or was it something much deeper

I first notice about you

Could it have been

The gentleness of your soul?

That attracted me like a moth

To the warmth , its brightness

I cannot really be sure

But whatever it was

That first time we met

I know one thing now

I love all of you!

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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I'm the land of words

books

“Child hide!” my inner voice would say

As the voices boomed from the kitchen

And I would run as fast as my tiny feet would carry me

Behind the sofa I would hide

But as the noise began to

Ricochet off the walls and the ceiling

Crouched I’d sit

And

Hide my face away

Deep in the blackness

Of my cotton and acrylic cave

I would stay

Until the noise would cease

And they would come and  find me

And with remorseful hugs

They would hold me

On those days when my parents needed to talk

I was given refuge with my grandfather

His house was a refuge for people

And for books

Rows of musty smelling

Hard backed books

Treasure Island

Robinson Crusoe

Little women

And book with words that didn’t have chapters

But with words that dance beautifully across the page

 Betjeman, Yeats, Woolf and T.S Elliot to name but a few

I listened as he would recite stories of far off lands

And hang on to every word

Of those of verses of love he would recite

I remember his heart danced

But his voice would quiver

I now realise he was thinking of my grandmother

As I grew I would search for those words he read

And lock them away inside my head

  So for those times when my thoughts are dark

And those demons come a knocking

I no longer hide behind seated barricades

I no longer hide away in my cotton and acrylic cave

I escape to the land of words

Where demons  are not welcome.

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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I’m the land of words

books

“Child hide!” my inner voice would say

As the voices boomed from the kitchen

And I would run as fast as my tiny feet would carry me

Behind the sofa I would hide

But as the noise began to

Ricochet off the walls and the ceiling

Crouched I’d sit

And

Hide my face away

Deep in the blackness

Of my cotton and acrylic cave

I would stay

Until the noise would cease

And they would come and  find me

And with remorseful hugs

They would hold me

On those days when my parents needed to talk

I was given refuge with my grandfather

His house was a refuge for people

And for books

Rows of musty smelling

Hard backed books

Treasure Island

Robinson Crusoe

Little women

And book with words that didn’t have chapters

But with words that dance beautifully across the page

 Betjeman, Yeats, Woolf and T.S Elliot to name but a few

I listened as he would recite stories of far off lands

And hang on to every word

Of those of verses of love he would recite

I remember his heart danced

But his voice would quiver

I now realise he was thinking of my grandmother

As I grew I would search for those words he read

And lock them away inside my head

  So for those times when my thoughts are dark

And those demons come a knocking

I no longer hide behind seated barricades

I no longer hide away in my cotton and acrylic cave

I escape to the land of words

Where demons  are not welcome.

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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Look in the mirror and smile

Sometimes I look in the mirror and check the make up mirror adult child

Not cosmetically,

But the physiological make up that makes me

Sometimes I look and see the confidence

The strength with every new line that appears

But sometimes (rarely now)

I see a child’s image reflect back at me

The eight years old (me)

Weak, timid, no voice and a million fears created

by the violent noises that surrounded me

From my Jekyll and Hyde father

Memories that sometimes are so clear,

I am back there, hiding behind the sofa as a battle is fought

In the living room

It’s a noise that never leaves you

I hate violent noise

Angry voices still now

I shun those’s who take me back to hear this noise

these days I fight for the underdog, the supressed , those who feel like I felt

when mother’s shout and scream at their child

I offer a reassuring smile

to comfort to send a message not all adults scream and shout

some of us smile

so maybe when they’re grown they won’t remember

the violent noise that came from their mother mouth

maybe just maybe they will remember

the stranger that gave them that reassuring smile

and when they are grown maybe they will look in the mirror

And see an image a of smiling face starring back at them

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland

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The Bench

the seatTucked away in my garden is a bench

I always thought it was nothing special

Just some metal and planks

That ceased to exist,

It’s old and battered

It’s paint is chipped and it’s wood is rotting

The seasons have not been kind

For so long I dismissed it

I paid it no attention until today

Then the memories flooded back

Of how many conversations it has witnessed

Good, bad, happy and sad

The conversation with my father when the doctors

Told him he had cancer .and how we cried

The conversation with my ex when she told me

She was leaving me for someone new and how I cried

The conversation with Jo when we first met

And how she told me how  crazy she was about me, how we smiled

Of how it is my sanctuary, where she holds me and comforts me

When my madness is in full flight

In middle of the night

So many conversations it has witnessed

So today I see it through different eyes

This tatty old bench

It’s not just some metal and planks

That ceased to exist

It is the caretaker of my memories

And the keeper of my thoughts

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland

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First Times

finnjuneI stand alone with my solitary shadow

with hands empty longing to touch you

with too much time I haven’t got

I spend filling it with regret and if’s and but’s

hours get lost along with me

I sit with cigarette in hand

tears slowly fall and I blame the smoke

I sit and reminiscence of so many memories of beautiful times

the time I first saw you

I’d beamed you were (are) so beautiful

the first kiss ,

I smirked (I cupped your face in my hands)

the first time we touched

I smiled ( I held you so tight I knew I should never let you go)

the first time I saw you naked

I was in awe of you (you relit feelings so deep I forgot they were there)

the first time we made love

I was aroused by you (God remember how nervous we were)

And  when we  realised our love was lost to the complications of life ( I cried)

I stood alone with my solitary shadow watching

the waves crash against the rocks and I cried a little more.

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.

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Peace keeper

i_wear_my_heart_on_my_sleeve_by_inside_battle-d3al6whI am peace keeper, a fool

see my  heart  is it tied upon my sleeve

with a sash of blue

it is the reason I hurt so  much

always playing the fool , the joker

living life through whimsical humour

but my face it reads truth it cannot lie

I tried appeasing you so many times

but I tired

I aged , with age comes courage

a courage that I thought would  never be mine

I did away with stroking your ego,

I served my time

12 years under your lock and key

I never once asked you to put me on a pedestal 

All I asked was for you to love me as much as I once loved you

You strayed 

I was weak once

but twice I had to be done with you

Yet you still left me broken in two

You left rage and  anger so deep in me that

If you were to stand before now

I could snap you in two but

I am peacekeeper  and but no longer your  fool

See my eyes they no longer cry tears for you

See my face it reads truth it cannot lie

my eyes no longer look through eyes of love

they see and they just pity you

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.

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In your presence

bus

The reason for this to me is still unknown

Do you not have the courage to tell me goodbye?

Why?

When did this hatred of me begin

This divide between us built like a wall

Taller and wider than the one – You remember they had in Berlin

Why?

Tell me why there is such a divide

As my feelings for  you will always remain

But just recently your treatment of me has been so inhumane

Why?

But I can tell you just want to throw me to the wayside

So I keep silent and sit here in your presence feeling so alone

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
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Sticks and stones

Sticks and stonessticks and stones

but the names did hurt me

they resonated in my head

for whole three decades

I carried your words around with me

Every vowel , and syllable

was shackled to my being

my heart had etched the names you called me

my seIf esteem cruelly snatched

I hated the way I looked

I resigned myself to never be loved

to accept a life of solitude

to never be worthy to witness the brightest days

or the moonlights sky’s

because of the names you called me

then your words were broken

because I began to believe in myself

love myself and be loved

to cherish everyday

to  bask in the moonlight

to know its ok to be alone once in a while

after all your sticks and stones

That all they are

Your words are meaningless now

So may I thank you because your

Sticks and stones and names didn’t

Just hurt me, they taught me humility

and to never be like you.

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
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The Girl in the Photograph

onesee the girl in the photograph

she is at her grandfather’s house

he is pulling funny facing trying to make her laugh,

make her smile

she’s just a few months over one

the girl in lace topped cotton socks

and highly polished shoes

her whole life before her

her future unknown

she didn’t know then

how she would learn to run and hide

when ever she heard violent noise

how she felt safe in her mother’s arms

how they forge bond so tight it would never be broken

because of the things they’d go through

how she didn’t like to go to school

because the bullies would be waiting

how the teachers would say she was stupid

how her mother would fight with them and  tell her

she was bright.

little  did she know that demons would try to become her friends

how they’d  like to play with her mind

how their stay would become unwelcome

how she grow in strength and stature

how her heart would be filled with love for others

she’d sometimes forget to love herself

she didn’t know it then that the husband and

2.4 children would never occur

that she grow up being attracted to girls

that she would have her heart broken  so many times ,

but she’d also break a few on her journey too.

this little girl didn’t know it back then that her mother would become ill

so weak, have to deal  with so so much pain

lose her independence

that doctors would instruct to say her goodbyes to her

on more than one occasion 

little did she know she would turn her back on G_d

because her question

“Why do you put my mother through so much pain,

what did she do to you that was so wrong?” would never be answered

that this little girl would one day solely care for her mother day by day

would dress, shower and unconditionally love her .

how she would lose  and mourn  love ones , forgive love ones and find new love ones

but I know one thing for sure that little girl is still smiling

even though sometimes have been difficult for her

I know because that little girl me.

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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Timelines

mom dad

At five I thought I had the best toy box ever, it didn’t have a lid, or painted motifs

Mine had handles and a zip.  I remember taking it on overnight trips when we stayed with my mother’s family

At six I thought all daddies could be Jekyll and Hyde

and needed to drink in order to survive

At seven I thought people kept ornaments’ in houses to throw

I look at objects of the past now and think why would you throw something

so beautiful with all the intensions of hate

At eight I realised there was a fine between love and hate

kisses meant love and slaps, kicks punches equalled hate

At nine and ten I remember how much I despised you but

how I craved your love

Then came my teens, well I never gave a thought of you

I was going through enough shit, thanks to you

At twenty I pitied you, your need for solace from the bottle

I could see in your eyes how much you wanted to rid yourself of your demons

At twenty one I admired you, your demons gone, you’d asked for help

you became the man my mother knew was always there.

That’s why she never gave up on you

At twenty two until I was twenty three I came to forgive you because you couldn’t forgive yourself.

Then came twenty four until

you died  we finally achieved the relationship we should have always had

Then in my thirties you were gone

and now here I am in my forties and I miss more than ever before

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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The wait

An hour you left me waitingschool-gates-006

It seemed like forever

I did not know what I should I do

Should I come to you?

But I feared your voice, so I waited

Until the sky started to leave me

I was upset , I was crying

I knew I had to leave with the sky  too

So began the walk, I remember the old buildings

Each one marking a step closer to you

Then I saw our door, it was locked

I looked through the window , there was you in your inebriated state

Blissfully lying unaware what had unfolded

I waited for an hour,  cold and hungry

Then my mother arrived

and there was THE noise,

After that I never got picked up from the school gates again

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved

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The Battle

I cowered curled hiding behind the couchteddy

I was a child when you began ravaging my haven

The  gallery for the  pictures that I drew

They’d been hung with love and wonder

But you didn’t care if they became your casualties

You were hungry looking for your next feast

Searching for demonic bottle or the ransom to barter for it

I heard raised voices,

the loudness ,

the screams ,

the shouts of your demands

it was violent noise

I screwed my eyes so tight, as if the dark would plunge me into another land

But it didn’t , then came the slap,

I heard it ricochet off her skin

I knew I had to come from behind my parapet

Like David you were my Goliath

I stood before you my creator

I would  not allow my habour of love be destroyed by you

I did not need stones to break you

A look into  your eyes, into your soul is all it took

I witness the demons leave

With a fall to the knees you cried

Whilst my mother held you

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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Thinking too much

finn dark thoughtsSome thinking is not good for me, dark thoughts are not good for me, but you know that

Too much thinking breaks me, but you know that

It takes me to places so dark, and I hate the dark, but you know that

I was trying to recall how long I have been skipping between the shadows

It seems like  an age, but you know that

I was thinking about my father today, about my chiIdhood,

his absence and his presence  , how it’s still so painful , but you know that

How I have nightmares and midnight panic’s about how I’m back there, but you know that

That why I do my thinking by the sea ,

I like the swell to carry my dark thoughts , but you know that

How I like to spill my fears and thoughts on the page, but you know that

I was thinking that if you were here you’d have your arms around me , protecting me from dark thoughts, that you’d banish them away like you always do, I know that.

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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Venus in Jimmy Choo’s

roomHome from work much too early

Catching up on mundane chores of life

Fresh clean bedding is laid on the bed

I recollect  how we writhed around  in the crisp Egyptian cotton sheets

Like wild animals in an eloborate  mating dance

The scent of your shampoo still remains on your pillows

where you once lay your head

I  realised how orderly everything now is

Except the thoughts that keep invading my head

There’s too much room on the dresser where a melody of colours once lived

Abundance of  space now invades the wardrobe that was once ours and

Coat hangers now hang redundantly

Space in the draws where your lingerie resided

Room in the cupboards where  your

Handbags and Shoes use to que, once all in order of size and  height of heel

I remember how when we were preparing for a evening  of pleasure

The air would would thick with your fragrance

And out of the mist my Venus in Jimmy Choo’s would appear

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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Remember

rememberRemember our first date

Remember I  gave you flowers and you blushed

Remember  I told you how beautiful you looked

It so was strange  seeing you out of your uniform,

Remember Jack Penate’s song  was playing on the radio

‘Be the one!’ and it became ‘our song’

Remember how you kept circling the edge of your cup

And how I immediately started to mirror you

Remember  how the crumbs of the cake lingered on the corner of your mouth

And I wiped the side of your  lips with my finger tips and I just lingered there too

Remember  how our gaze locked, which for me was usually hard to do

But you have the deepest eyes of blue

Remember on the way back to your home

holding hands

Remember our first kiss was in the rain

Remember how you told me how new this was to you

Remember me taking you by the hand

Remember, Remember, remember this and more

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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The White Box

buddha

I didn’t throw your memory away

I keep  it in my head and within my heart

I kept some thing’s and tidily put them away

in a white box with Buddha sitting on the top

Things you held, things you wore and things that still have your smell are in

the white box with Buddha sitting on the top

Silly really I kept these  things in case you came back

But I have now come to realise this will never be the case

You will never hold those things or wear those clothes that I kept for you

in the white box with Buddha sitting on the top.

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

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Old friends chatting…

couple cloud sitting( for David 06/03/1962- 08/02/2002 – forever loved and always missed)

 

Its been 19 months since we were last in tune

We sat and skirted around varied  subjects

The usual chatter of old friends on a sunny afternoon

Then in an instant the conversations ceased

Like the stopping of the hands on the old timepiece

No more conversations were to be shared

All that was left was my despair

As I write this I know you are looking over my shoulder

And I feel the air become a little colder

I wished I had spoken of how much you meant

Instead of discussing the amount of Euro’s you had spent

So here now I will write of how beautiful and loved you are

And how not one day goes by without a

thought for you

And how life without you is just too bizarre

I wipe away the tears

As I think of all those lost years

of how when we were young we’d dreamed

of sharing our life

And of how one day I would become your wife

But now the weekend arrives and I bring you flowers

Again my tears begin to overpower

The only way I seem to get by and cope

Is to pray and live in hope

That one day we will again be in tune

And will be forever together sitting

on a cloud watching old friends

chatting on  sunny afternoons

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved.

Continue reading “Old friends chatting…”

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Steps to embracing Christmas and to letting go……

Well I said I would do a ‘Post Christmas’ Blog on how my attempts at embracing Christmas went this year, 

After my blog at the beginning of December my girlfriend and I decided to write a list of things that would help me ‘Embrace’ the Yuletide season ,one because I needed a plan (I function better if I have a list….. I’m anal that way… This will definitely discussed further in a future blog) and two I REALLY wanted to make good/new  memories for not just me but for my mum and my girlfriend.

Anyways step One …… Going for the tree , now as a lover of nature and all things outside as is my mum and my girlfriend we decided on a live tree , that’s to say one that was not cut at the base but one that could be replanted once Christmas was out-of-the-way.

So came the morning of said Christmas Tree shopping, which didn’t go without a hitch, I’d been the loft to retrieve the boxes of Decorations and, I had a massive panic attack which kicked in my asthma, because in retrieving the decorations I had flashbacks of Christmas 1973!. It took me a while to get over , but non the less once I calmed down off we went.

When we arrived there were an array of various trees of all shapes and size’s but most were cut at the base , which I found quite sad. Anyways in a small section of the Garden centre were the live trees and there was particular tree slightly bent, not as athletically pleasing to the eye because it wasn’t perfect and which had been placed in a corner almost out of sight. My girlfriend turned to me and said “That’s the one isn’t it?” , ” Yes” I replied.” anyway with tree bought off we drove home ready to decorate the tree.

Now I ask the girlfriend if I could decorate the tree alone, as this would be a real test for me because if there is one single thing that brings back the awful memories of Christmases gone by is the Christmas tree and Christmas decorations because it evokes a memory of a particular Christmas my dad needed drink, he hadn’t a drink for a couple of days and usually something would stir in him and he get a look in his eyes and he would flip because he had no money to buy any more alcohol and because non was ever kept in the house and he was desperate for a drink he took his frustration out on my mum because as usual she refused to pay for his addiction, that was when I usually had to intervene and literally part them or as on this occasion shield my mum from him and at 7 that was a scary thing to do, but it always stopped him, he usually then take his frustration out on anything in the house , throwing ornaments, damaging furniture and tearing photo’s up and on this particular occasion breaking every single tree bauble and destroying the tree whilst mum and I coward behind the sofa until he would leave the house and we would plan our escape and stay at my mum’s brother’s for the night whilst the demons left him and he put back together the house, the tree , the photo’s with his remorse! I particularly remember this more clearly than any other episode because the day before the destruction occurred my dad and I were playing , laughing and joking and putting the tree up together and he had shown so much love that day and with him destroying the tree it has always felt like a denouncement of his love, it was also the last time I ever decorated a tree with him or in fact enjoyed Christmas and at age 7 that in itself is very sad thing .So yes it was more poignant that I decorate the tree alone and try to remember that day my dad decorated the tree with me instead of him destroying it. I more importantly wanted to remember the love shared between my Dad and I that day. It emotionally drain me, I wept for about two hours afterwards but I had done it.

Step two…… Was a visit to the European Christmas markets held in the City centre. As my girlfriend said it would help me in knowing that not all images of Christmas have to be negative they can be positive. Although I’d been before without her but I had never really enjoyed the experience ,but this time I did manage to enjoy and soak up the atmosphere, it was also lovely spending a bit of time alone with her as things have been a bit manic of late as my mum hasn’t been that well and as I am my mum’s full-time carer we haven’t had any proper time alone together.

Step three …….. Presents, wrapping paper and sellotape. I decided to buy some small gifts for my mum and girlfriend, which I wrapped and hid until the big day.

It was at this point I started to become overwhelmed with the pressure of everything. One by the guilt of the blog I just written and two because of the memory that kept coming back every time I saw the Christmas tree.

Whilst all this was going on my mum had developed a serious infection, one that changed all our plans for Christmas. As we were going to spend Christmas day with my girlfriends parents and grandmother, obviously I couldn’t leave my mum and neither would my girlfriend leave us. I could see the same scenario of Christmas happening all over again. I was on complete edge and my girlfriend and I started to argue more and more until the point I used my mum’s infection to push her away , because I was so scared I was going to ruin Christmas for her and so I told her to go and spend Christmas with her parents. So she left , obviously I didn’t want her to go but what choice did I have. I had a sick mum to look after , I was on edge and could feel myself withdrawing I didn’t want that to be her memory or that of my mum’s for Christmas 2012. I cried all that day and when I wasn’t looking after my mum I spent it alone. During that evening ironically the Christmas tree fell over and that was it I cried like a baby. That evening my girlfriend returned and she wrote me a letter of all my faults cos she was mad at me and also in there was a letter which basically summed up my reason’s for hating Christmas , she is first one to actually realise what this fear/hate of Christmas was all about and that basically I associate Christmas with love , or more importantly the destruction of love. You see in all the time my dad was alive he never actually told me he loved me. I although he showed love , and I knew he loved me. I always doubted that the love was genuine, because of that one Christmas with that tree and how he had shown love one day but within the next day he destroyed it and that’s the thing that brings it back. As my girlfriend said all year you can convince yourself that he loved you but then Christmas comes and it brings all those doubts back again, one period in time ,not lasting no more than an hour has eaten away at me for forty years! As she said there was no doubt he loved me, if hadn’t of loved me he would have never accepted my sexuality which he did, with that there is no doubt. He wouldn’t have sung my praises as people she met have told her he did and how him and I were close and we were. As she said one moment in time, at time when my dad was ill should now be but to rest and so it has, as if it hadn’t I could not of explained that memory in detail, as I have done now.

We both put the tree back up and decorated it together and so the rest of Christmas went well, we all had a lovely time, my mum was feeling better , the table was set and lunch was delightful and we raised a glass to my dad, to our families, to happy memories and our love for each other , a perfect end to embracing perfect Christmas.

Next Blog a review of 2012 and my resolutions for 2013.