New Year’s Eve

New Year’s Eve

I was in two minds whether to write this as to be honest there is something brazenly predictable about putting down ones thoughts at the end of a year and the beginning of another.  Anyway here goes nothing.

Another year closer to the grave...well for year substitute day or week or minute or second..,all the same in the end. I’ll be 53 if I make it till Feb...i never really envisaged being in my fifties and now that i’m here I probably made the right call on that. It’s been a strange sort of year...a hernia diagnosis... my car packing in...a 92 year old parent falling down the stairs...the ongoing financial grind of a business on its last legs if only I had the sense or the balls to kill it finally. I await a surgery date, have car payments I had not anticipated and am more of a carer than i was this time last year. My head continues to be a mess of concerns and anxieties. How will I cope if the business folds? What will happen to my father going forward? How will I cope if his health worsens? How will he cope if his health worsens? What about my own medium to long term health? Can I keep the shop going? Can I live on fumes? How will I deal with people in any of the above scenarios or mix of them? The last one may sound odd but it is what it is. I am increasingly removed from people...I avoid contact where possible unless it is at the safe distance of social media. I deal with them in the shop but that is slightly different...that’s me on auto pilot to some degree. It comes from years of habit. Even that however is becoming more difficult. When you feel the walls closing in around you it is hard to think or act expansively. You contract and look inward. You huddle in your own corner and brace yourself for the worst. Your world shrinks and your horizons reduce. It is about surviving day to day mentally...it is about not giving in to slow rising panic that reserves its worst onslaught for about four in the morning when your resistance is low and sleep is fleeting. It is stopping your head from bursting into pieces and your mind from caving in on itself. It is about distractions and diversions and messy inconclusive little  victories in dark corners of the psyche. I read a blog lately by a guy comparing himself to an iceberg (it was a bit worthy and wordy) and talking some gibberish about how the things you seek are actually seeking you...or some such twaddle. If it works for him then fair enough. I suppose if i’m an iceberg then i’m waiting for my titanic...though I feel more like the titanic to be honest...holed below the water line and in denial about the outcome. Now I’m talking gibberish. It did prompt me to ask myself what it is...if anything...i’m seeking on the verge of another year. I’ve no ready answer. I suppose just getting through it would be a start...with finances still intact.. or at least moderately so...that seems a tall order from here but we shall see. Other than that my expectations are at floor level..,or lower. I’ve always preferred to keep them there so that anything is a bonus...not that i’m predictable or that I resort to tried and tested psychological props. I suppose i’d like the hernia sorted...at

least then i could get out of track suit bottoms and possibly pee straight again (long story). I’ve long ago given up on having any sense of well being or security but at least it would be good not to feel the excruciating weight of worry in that regard every waking moment...I’d just like to take a step closer to getting by and not constantly looking over my shoulder or being primed ready to dodge the latest bullet or missile from whichever direction. I’d like to be able to take some pleasure in my work again as opposed to merely fire fighting and expending most of my energy merely on keeping things on track. That last one is probs a non starter...more likely i will have to re set my whole way of thinking and prepare to get a job...even writing that sends a frisson up my spine. I’ve been self employed for over thirty years...the idea of doing something else...for someone else...fills me with dread. But it is an increasing probability so i will have to get my head round it. More on that later. It’s also funny the way i never now think of relationships...as in having one. As in with a woman. I was asked the other day if it bothered me that I didn’t have anyone in

my life in that way and i always give the stock answer that it doesn’t. And to be honest that is mostly true. I tend not to dwell on it. I miss intimacy...again i was asked that very specifically. But I miss it in a general way. Almost as a concept. Well more than that I suppose. I would not want to live with anyone...to have another person around at close quarters all the time. I’ve become used to my own space and my own company. But I do miss...well...I’m not entirely sure what I miss. Just being physically close to someone possibly. Being considered desirebale...in the broadest sense. Being understood by someone...if that’s really possible...or at least having someone try to understand you...and be willing to be understood by you. Having someone to physically cling to in the night...who wants to share that intimate space with you in that undefinable way that is...well love I suppose. Someone who you can be around without pretense...and who doesn’t shy away from who and what you are. Obviously such a person is an idea more than anything...an amalgam of the things you need or desire. You would wish to be the same for them of course. And no doubt you would fail. I’m not completely cynical though. Such relationships do exist. Such people exist. Perhaps I know them. Perhaps not. In the end it’s an interesting diversion from all the crap to think of such things. To wrap your fragile self in the possibility of such people....if nothing else. To allow yourself to imagine  perhaps they are out there...and seeking you. That it’s not all gibberish. If it helps you get through the night then bring it on. 

As a friend of mine on FB recently remarked...24 hours at a time and then repeat. 

Happy New Year. 

Boxing Day

Boxing Day. 

The past. There’s some fancy quote about it being an unknown country or such like but I can’t remember it exactly. If only it was an unknown country. For most of us it’s territory too well trodden ...poured over , wept over, raged over.  Or was it a foreign country? Well whatever it was that other one...that the past is always with us ...is equally pertinent.  It is and yet it isn’t. FB threw up (what a concept) some images this morning of boxing day six years ago as it does every now and again. It’s a controversial feature as out of the blue things you might not wish to be reminded of (bereavement, a bad night out) are suddenly thrust your direction unsolicited and unprepared for...you are completely at the mercy of the FB algorithm and it bows to no one (except FB presumably ) In this case it was a fairly innocuous photo of my kids taken in my previous temporary abode in front of a very scrawny christmas tree during their boxing day “visit”.  The other was from a year earlier...a blustery and foam drenched Newcastle promenade resplendent in winter sunshine.  If the Blogger app was working i’d post it here. I remember the circumstances of both very well...down to the feelings prevalent at the time. I hadn’t thought much about those feelings in a long while and the photos prodded the memory ball that over time and distance has formed a very hard crust. A momentary pang ...an emotional shudder...then nothing. As it should be probably. Some years back i would have rolled the ball of memories about in my head a while...disentangled a few and picked at them a bit...taken the odd sip of the pain that they would inevitably bring. Now it’s like a half echo ....a crash of something in the muffled distance and no more. No doubt if I was prepared to work at it for long enough I would be able to re kindle some of that earlier sharpness...at least fleetingly. Now i’m left with a vague sense of angst...like something you catch a glimpse of now and again at the edge of your vision...then dismiss as a shadow.  This time of year plays tricks on you. It acts like a rallying point for all the dark and painful things that for the rest of the year can be firmly shut out by the banal noise of day to day existence. At Christmas there is time to reflect...that dangerous word...and with reflection comes a dropping of the guard. In the quiet the past rears it’s head and weaponises the silence. It is not a thing of course...in that “it” does nothing. It is how we are wired...or allow ourselves to be wired. We choose our demons ...or at least we allow certain of them greater access than others. If you ask me what it is I most associate with this time of year my answer would be...dread.  I’d have given you that answer for as long as i can remember.  In some ways that dread has been the backdrop to my mental landscape since I was able to recognise the concept. Sometimes i’m not sure where the dread ends and I begin.  Dread of what you ask? I’ve no ready answer. Everything might be one...but it’s a bit of a cop out.  Fear is an interesting emotion. It’s very necessary in that it keeps us alive to some extent. When we hug it too closely to ourselves and begin to let it take hold of our emotional life however it becomes the harshest of masters. Confronting it...in its many forms...is the journey of our lives. I’ve made peace with it far too easily.  At christmas this just becomes more obvious to me. Roosevelt was partly right...nothing to fear but fear itself. But not nothing. 

Fear is enough.  

Christmas Eve

I find myself in the unusual position of not being at work on Christmas Eve. Not earth shattering but certainly habit shattering ...it’s been 11 years (i am told...i’ve no personal recollection) since it last fell on a Sunday. Back then there would have been no question of opening as Sunday trading in these parts was still in its relative infancy. This time around it was more of a decision to be taken...though to be honest in my head i’d already taken it by default some time ago and merely cast around for excuses not to open subsequently. I could not stand the thought of coming in for the few hours frankly (that’s all it would have been due to trading laws) rather than taking the rare opportunity to have an extra day off for once. To be honest i think it was the right decision irrespective of personal preference. Sunday opening is still not a big thing in Banbridge and it would have been very hit and miss today in town...most down our way were shut. Yes money is very tight and every little bit helps (allegedly) but one most also bear in mind ones sanity. It’s about what one can deal with at any given point. My type of business does not benefit much from last minute shoppers beating the door down at the best of times and this is far from the best of times. Reflecting on the last time this arrangement of days occurred also has got me thinking about the changed nature of what we do. Not that the changes haven’t been staring us in the face for some time...but actual figures bring things into sharp focus and on perusing them from 11 years ago the comparisons are stark and revealing. The day before Christmas eve (or Christmas Saturday as we retailers call it) that year we lifted almost to the last penny on the  one day the same amount as we have taken this time around in the final week of six days. Just let that sink in. And that was not our best ever Christmas Eve. Of course it has to be said that while the statistic is somewhat disconcerting it is far from shocking...at least to the  extent that it is no surprise at this end. The decline in trade generally and in Christmas trade in particular this past decade has been steady and pronounced. There are many reasons for it ...the rise of the internet (barely a presence in 2006) and the proliferation of outlet shopping (still in its relative infancy then) have taken by far the biggest toll on smaller high street independents such as ourselves. Add to that the general economic downturn of recent years (in 2006  we were still under the illusion that the only way was up economically) then factor in other more particular local elements and the picture becomes clearer. For my own part the decision to send the business off in an entirely new direction, while unquestionably the right thing to do at the time,  has no doubt been a factor in that it destabilises things and presents new challenges. And finally my own personal situation(marital separation and some significant  health issues) also has had some bearing on the overall dynamic of things though that can be more difficult to quantify. The end result is where we are now...in a far more onerous and precarious position than i would l would like to be or would have envisioned back in 2006. Back then all was not rosy and retail certainly was no barrel of laughs...though compared to now it was a cake walk. I did not think so at the time of course and Christmas was always ...for as long as i can remember...a stress laden and frought period in the retail calander. The month of December accounted for around fifty percent of the years turnover and a bad run at Christmas was a disaster of epic proportions. Those last couple of weeks in particular that sandwiched Christmas and Boxing Day were massive...they dug us out of many’s a financial hole and no matter what you could always count on them coming good in the end. It set your teeth on edge and frayed the nerves when the final push was late to arrive...but deep down you knew it would come and bail you out of the foolish buying decisions you’d made six months earlier. And you knew that should you repeat them the following year christmas fortnight would come galloping in like the proverbial cavalry and save you again...and again. Well not any more. Not for a while in fact. The decline had been fairly gradual in the beginning...the high water mark was around the turn of the century but by 2006 while there had been some tailing off Christmas trade was still pretty spectacular albeit in a more steady sort of way. Over the next few years it dropped off quite markedly but then we adjusted by buying less and lowering expectations. While not the cash cow it was December was still a beacon of light in the commercial year...still capable of delivering a substantial boost to one’s flagging finances and enough to breed underlying confidence in the retail future..no matter how bad things got Christmas trade was still a bit special...diminished but still potent enough to shape ones thinking about things. Then about 3 years ago the slippage became a slide...and each year since has seen a sharp drop to the point that this year we wondered at the start of christmas week if this was finally the year that it didn’t happen at all...when Christmas was a retail no show. While there was always a lurking fear of such retail armageddon somewhere on the horizon...even in the good days...we as retailers never really believed it would happen. On the odd quiet Tuesday in early  December we might have wobbled a bit but come the weekend normal service was always resumed and we chided our lack of faith. This past few years it’s been very different...and this year the very quiet start to the month in the wake of the Black Friday madness (which benefits the likes of us hardly at all) was especially ominous. A poor autumn was shaping up to culminate in a non existent Christmas...the clock was ticking to

retail implosion. In the end trade did pick up a bit and the last few days delivered respectable enough figures given the general climate of expectation. Whether it will be enough to pull us out of what now seems a bottomless pit of retail decline ...or even raise us up above water a bit...remains to be seen. I’m not optimistic. The week after Christmas, once an even bigger event than the one preceding, has been decidedly poor in recent years...so i’m not expecting much frankly. Basically we are at the stage now of scraping through each season...hoping to do enough to get suppliers paid and keep the bank on board. It says a lot for retail at present...and our part in it..,that that in itself is something of an achievement. The future? Well who knows. It may be taken completely out of my hands. Despite my pessimistic tone i still am passionate about the actual dynamic of outdoor retail...i love the gear and i enjoy selling it. I remember the buzz of pre christmas glory days...of serving 3 or 4 people at once...of having to think on your feet...the sheer satisfaction of putting a sale together for people who appreciated the gear and who were a joy to deal with. It’s not like that now. There are few such people. A few chinks of light yes...but they are very few. The ones that are a pleasure to interact with are in the minority. Whether it is the faceless internet or the crap filled and soulless outlets ...whatever it is it has taken its toll on the whole landscape of retail. It is a strangely cold barren and increasingly jarring place. Jagged edges abound. There is a nastiness to people that perhaps was always there but was better disguised when they were more plentiful ...or maybe it’s just that people are nastier. When you deal with the public every day for over thirty years it certainly can make you jaded and cynical ...it can warp your judgment of the human condition. It also however gives you much insight...at least superficially. I’ve always said that any psychology student should spend time in a retail environment if they really want to learn something. It would be a bit of an eye opener. Of course i oversimplify but then who doesn’t...it’s the currency of the modern age to under play nuance and shade. I dare say the average consumer might have things to say about retail staff...i’m as much a consumer as a retailer and i’m not beyond having a go. But there is something about standing in a shop ...your own shop....filling it with stock that you have usually gone to great trouble to source and assemble with something approaching love...certainly with enthusiasm...stock that you have to pay for within (usually ) 30 days of delivery...in the knowledge that of no one comes through the door and buys it you are in the deepest of shit. If the great unwashed do not like your selection not only are you personally affronted...even hurt...you are scuppered financially. And quickly. Your very livelihood depends on a buying decision taken in some distant showroom over too strong coffee (if you are lucky) many months ago ...it IS your livelihood..your life blood....your meal ticket. You don’t sell you (or your dependents)  don’t eat. You certainly don’t get paid. Your staff don’t get paid. There is no fall back. Such a way of life concentrates the mind and us not for the squeamish. Suppliers (often friends) phoning or emailing about overdue invoices that you may or may not be able to pay...not because you are a con artist or an especially poor retailer but because no one is coming through your door and putting cash in your till. Some are understanding...some are bastards...most meet in the middle somewhere. Either way they have to be paid. Then there’s the rates,Vat, HMRC, light, heat, the window cleaner, the performing arts people (i can’t abide silence when the shop is quiet so have the radio playing) ...a relentless and seemingly endless list of creditors and grasping hands who give new meaning to the term implacable. And all the while you are expected to be nice to people...to say good morning and smile..at the tyre  kickers and the wasters as well as the potential punters. And if you dare to show any real emotion or genuine reaction under duress there is always some fucker on FB who never had any intention of buying anything saying what a shit experience your shop is...I could go on. None of the above really matters when things are good...and the tills are ringing.  When you haven’t seen a paying customer (as opposed to a shop visitor) for most of the day and some clown comes in at 4 o’clock asking for something stupid the mental effort required not to pick up the nearest blunt object in anger is considerable...and exhausting. Most who stand behind counters in the modern consumer age have tongues bitten to the quick...with good reason. I’m always much more tired and  lethargic when it’s quiet...i’m never exhausted after a busy day...that’s when i do get the odd one. And after such a day...or even a half decent sale to a nice customer...you feel as if there is still hope in the world...that it’s worth struggling on...that things might just possibly get better. Something like enthusiasm returns , albeit fleetingly, and you start to let yourself believe that the shop...your baby....is going to survive...and maybe even turn a corner. Such days...such moments...keep you going.  Of course that might be part of the problem. Denial is the foundation of self delusion. Hope is a dangerous ...though necessary ...thing. But for now it will have to suffice. As i sit here in a cafe in Newcastle on Christmas Eve writing this and feeling a bit maudlin i suppose any hope is worth its weight in gold...even if it proves forlorn. That is a worry for another day. And denial

has its uses. 

Happy christmas. 

Jumbled Musings

Jumbled musings 

I’ve not written much of late due to the fact that blogger app is no longer available on ios mobile (i’m considering moving to something else as a result if I can work out how to migrate) ...the web version is frankly tiresome. But I digress. If I lose previous content it’s not that big a deal really as I write primarily for myself on this blog...i’m not that bothered about whether anyone actually reads it. I would however like to keep the name if possible as it sums up how i’ve felt about life this past few years. 

My mood is all over the place presently. The shop continues to be a massive worry...the financial pressure is relentless and i am well aware that I am fighting a loosing battle. But i’ve little choice but to keep fighting. I wish I was of the type to simply not give a fuck as dealing with suppliers would be a lot simpler. I don’t like owing money to people and it bothers me that I can’t pay accounts on time. Moreover it makes it difficult to really get behind brands etc when you are hanging by a thread with them and on the cusp of falling out of favor with them pretty much all the time. I find it harder and harder to be enthusiastic about products as in the back of your mind you are wondering if you will have this or that brand in the shop much longer because of payment issues. Some suppliers are reasonable enough and will help out with payment plans etc but increasingly most are not that understanding.  I’m not going to comment except to say that paying for goods bought over six months in advance in thirty days is becoming less and less viable for smaller independent retail businesses of a certain type. Most brands insist on forward orders , perhaps understandably, but as footfall moves from the high street to the internet it is getting harder and harder to function as far as cash flow is concerned. One is always suspicious that the terms they give to larger retailers are eminently more favorable and that to a degree smaller guys like me subsidize that. Yes i could of course just pack up and quit ...but i’m not sure that’s really in anyone’s interest..except possibly my own if it could be done in a certain way. But it seems a shame that a small one man outlet cannot do enough business to scrape a living in the present climate. Plus i’m certain the govt would miss the £1000 per month business rates that i have to fork out ...to say nothing of the crippling 20 per cent turnover VAT etc....we SMEs have our uses. Having said all that it’s touch and go whether I can survive another year ...financially or mentally. The NI market for anything that isn’t cheap shite is limited. The tiny percentage of decent customers is simply not enough to keep a place like mine going in a location such as this. For every one of them there is a dozen tire kickers or internet showroomers (or parasites as I prefer to call them) taking up your time and energy...and air space. To be fair it’s always been the case that only a relatively small percentage of customers (around 10 percent at a guess) contributed the majority of business but these days there are less of them full stop so turnover is severely depleted while margin (and therefore profit ) is also well diminished. The result is you cannot bring in as much stock which means potentially even less business as people turn to the more fertile picking ground of the internet and larger multiples. Basically a perfect storm. I’ve never been a great advocate of “customer loyalty” as it’s an over simplified term but if there ever was any it is now non existent. Must would step over your fast expiring prostrate form to save a few quid on line...then wonder why some day the shutters are down for good. Or they will use you as a source of information ...or a fit centre ...to make the process of buying on line a bit less risky. The latter group i have nothing but contempt for and if you are one of them feel free to go away and fuck yourself...I want neither your money nor your presence. If you want to spend your money on

line and send it out of the local economy you yourself rely on for employment etc then knock yourself out...but don’t have the audacity to make use of your local independent retailers  stock, light , heat, knowledge etc to take the risk out of it. If you are too stupid or economically illiterate  and ethically vacuous not to get why that’s a problem...or that it’s simply bad manners....well frankly that is your problem. Yes it may well be cheaper on

line (though not always as it happens) but the main reason for that is the very fact that you can not touch it, see it, try it on, engage one to one with a human being who is paid to stand there and provide that option ...all things which incur additional costs for the brick and mortar seller and which the on

line only set up can skimp on . Of course it is true that the vast majority of folk do not give a shit about any of that...they see price only and would sell their soul for the  sake of a fiver. I’ve been at this game for nearly forty years, six days a week and it gives a better insight into human nature than any psychology course ever will. Most people don’t do joined up thinking when it comes to how they spend their money. And those with more of it to spare are always the worst in that regard I find. They do however begin to care once it starts to affect themselves as the local infracture they also depend on begins to take the strain of fewer local shops and less business rate revenue for the locality ...Amazon will not pay for too many local leisure centres. Again I digress. 

On the health front i continue to await word on the anticipated hernia surgery ...to be honest i’ve put it to the back of my mind. Too many other concerns. My dad is well improved physically but is unlikely to return to work as before. He remains a concern. My own mental landscape is as muddled and as problematic as ever. I feel like the guy who had his finger in the dyke...you plug one hole and two more appear. The cumulative affect of smaller niggling worries can be formidable. It’s hard to not let my mind stray to various possible (and none too positive ) scenarios going forward...mainly to do with precarious financial outcomes. One buries what one can but they tug at the consciousness demanding attention that I lack the energy or more truthfully the resolve/courage to do anything about. Fear is a familiar companion. I don’t remember a time when i wasn’t afraid...or didn’t have a vague sense of unease. I was trying to pinpoint its origin earlier but other than

locating some of it in my own life long sense of inadequacy and low self esteem (yes that old chestnut) i have made little progress.  Perhaps it’s just my nature. I write to try and clear my head and focus my thoughts but i rarely achieve either. Deep emotional pain and dread is common to us all and I am no exception to the rule. We all deal with it our own way ...mine is to internalise it...to stroke it and caress it like a lover at times (not that I am too adept in that regard)...to plumb it’s depths in the wee small hours when everything seems worse and the world of the imagination is awash with unbidden thoughts. Then to grind on and blot the worst of it out as best I can...without much success in the main.  I suppose i’m no different to most people in that respect...we all find a way to carry our personal baggage...moving it from one shoulder to the other...like an ill fitting pack...hoping that the weight of it may somehow diminish over time as we somehow get more used to it. Occasionally it will bite into the shoulder or send a shard of pain through the vertebrae causing us to wince and grit our teeth ...or die a tiny bit inside. Usually the damage is containable and we move on , shifting the load around a bit. Never really comfortable but manageable. Some day the weight will be too much and the pain will bring us to our knees...perhaps for the final time. But not today. Not quite yet. There’s still a way to travel.

Not the perfect analogy but it will do for now. 

Shit, fans and their interaction.

Shit, fans and their interactions. 

Sometimes words don’t come easy...as a song i believe once said. I find increasingly that they do not. But i will do my best. 

This has been a difficult year so far...health revelations and subsequent follow through (or not)...my fathers fall and subsequent fall-out from it for both him and myself...the underlying struggle that the business has become this past few years in particular. All in the mix and all with their own particular level of difficulty on the mental front. I find i’ve become increasingly self contained and routine based...I move from day to day and week to week with a mixture of dread, resolve, fretfulness and almost a sense of detachment. It’s like you know there is a big cliff there in the immediate distance but somehow you keep walking towards it in the hope that either it will not be a cliff or you can walk on air. But there seems to be no other course. I am locked into the trajectory and that is that. There is no change i can make...or change i can face more to the point....that will make any difference to the end result. Or perhaps it is that it is easier to stay on the path to this particular cliff than to change to a different one with a different yawning chasm at the end of it. That doesn’t really get to the heart of it but it’s as good as I can manage. At times in my head it’s like i’m wading through treacle and juggling things I dare only glimpse at in prospect...if I linger too long i may unravel. Perhaps i am depressed ...whatever that means. More likely it is just plain old anxiety taking its toll on the synapses. I find that the old anger is creeping back...the sort that is always simmering away and periodically bubbles to the surface in all sorts of ways and in all sorts of directions. I feel trapped. Well I am trapped so it’s only logical i’d feel it. If I look ahead I  see only trouble on all fronts...mainly financial...so I don’t look ahead. Which is not really all that sensible but it is the only way I can manage my feelings. It is the only way I can cope. At times i glimpse the various scenarios re my dad...the shop...myself...and i can feel the rising panic in my chest...I can almost taste it. Mostly about four in the morning when the defences are brittle and the mind is on overdrive. At those times I simply shut it off...I lose myself to fantasy or to some reverie...or just to nothing at all. I descend into blankness. Otherwise i might break apart. Whatever it is that binds my sanity (or what passes for it these days) together may finally loose itself and parts of me will scatter to the far reaches of the abyss. They say if you stare into that you may see yourself looking back. Well I’d  settle for that. At least it would be someone i’d recognize. Small mercies are the best. 

The law of 3.

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A while since the last blog. To be honest when i started this i thought blogging might be a cathartic realease...or at the very least a way of working through difficult feelings and emotions in the aftermath of a period of extreme personal upheaval.  I've discovered though that it is not as simple as that...increasingly i find it hard to actually express what i feel or to know where or how to begin to untangle the ever twisting mass of thoughts and emotions that writhe about in my head on an almost daily basis. I've finally decided to have another go at it...but cannot guarantee i will complete the job. Much of my thinking is discordant and laced with a combination of vague melancholy and persistent  anxiety which makes it especially difficult to gather thoughts together in a way that is coherent...at least to me. Here goes nothing. 

It's been an interesting four months or so. Interesting in the way that being hit by a bus then run over by a car is interesting. Welll actually that's only two things. But i digress. As i believe i communicated last time i was diagnosed with a massive hernia in April past...i can't remember the name for the type but as the  ultra sound weilding consultant described it , a proportion of my bowel has dropped into my scrotum along with an as yet unquantifiable amount of fatty tissue. The end result is essentially an enlarged scrotum, a fair amount of discomfort and a considerable degree of general bowel irritation necessitating some remedial action medication wise. I'm scheduled for corrective surgery early in the New Year ...well provisionally.  I could have had the surgery faster but due to my current situation  (as in i'm self employed with a struggling business with no back up whatsoever and a 91 year old parent for whom i am the sole carer) that was not really a possibility. I might even have to defer in Jan (assuming it's then) but that's another story. I recall mentioning to a friend back in April shortly after the (long delayed) doctors visit confirming the problem that these things normally come in threes. About a month later my nine year old VW Golf decided to give up the ghost...something to do with a piston rod penetrating the engine. That car had been with me through three separate homes and was the one constant in my life through marital seperation and it's attendant upheavals. More to the point although it had 100,000 miles on the clock it was in good enough order and i had no plans to part with it any time soon. So it's demise was not only emotionally problematic but much more importantly financially so. It meant another change...and with change comes insecurity. Also in this case there came a monthly HP payment for the next four years i had not planned on. So that was no 2. Now i have never believed in the principle of 3 but i might have to reconsider as about a month ago the aforementioned  91 year old parent...my father and business partner...fell down the stairs in the shop necessitating a quick rush to A and E. Fortunately he did not break anything though he did suffer heavy bruising to the ribs and sustained a gash in his forehead requiring stitches. He has now been recuperating at home for several weeks and in the time honored way of a cure being worse than the disease the cocodamol he was on for the severe pain of the bruised ribs has badly affected his already none to robust appetite. He is forcing himself to eat but has lost a stone from an already age weakened frame and while he is recovering well enough in terms of the physical healing of the bruises his general health is obviously causing me some concern.  Thankfully he is back on the paracetamol but his appetite remains poor...at 91 the body requires a lot less nutrition of course but it has its limits...and at 91 they are more noticeable. Perhaps even more worrying is the fact that with five weeks now passed he has not even mentioned coming back into the shop. To understand this you would have to know my father personally but suffice it to say he hates being at home on his own all day and even in his early nineties has been determined to come to work every day come what may...when he fell a couple of years back (requiring two days hospitalization) he was back in the shop within about a week and even the idea of spending a morning at home to wait on a delivery etc generally results in protestations. This time it is different however...perhaps it's the fact that he fell in the shop itself ...and on the stairs ...and it has badly knocked his. confidence or maybe he just feels physically not up to it.  Either way i'm playing it by ear...hopefully if i can get him built up and feeling a bit stronger he may regain some enthusiasm for getting out. To keep his mind active (and because it's necessary frankly) i take the bookwork up to him so he can keep in touch with things. When he fell before it was a warning shot to me that I was relying far too much on him...especially for the admin side of things. But it suited us both to ignore the warning (as is my modus operandi) and here we are again. This time it's different however as there is the distinct possibility that he will not be back down at least on a regular basis and that is a difficult thing for me...and him...to get our heads round. I find it tough on both an emotional and a practical level. I've worked with him for over thirty years in that place...for the last five years just him and me. I've been kept busy enough this past few weeks with schoolwear so i've not had much time to brood about it but now that it's quieter it wil hit harder. There is also the practical side...basically i cannot get out of the place without locking the door. While i could have left him for five or ten minutes before now to do a quick message that is no longer possible. In a funny way i could cope better if i was rushed off my feet as there is less time to think about stuff and you generally feel more energised and positive. However the way business is that is unlikely. The admin side is more difficult with him at home but that is workable...while he is up to doing it of course. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise as I am being forced to face things and adapt before the inevitable. I am bad at facing things. Chronically bad even now. There's is the added complication of this bloody hernia of mine requiring attention...it's a bit like a time bomb in itself as even a violent sneeze could result in a trip to A and E or so i'm told. It can also cause seriously painful IBS intermittently...that at the moment would be highly problematic as i am skating in thin ice as it is. I'm occasionally asked why i don't simply employ some back up...valid question but sadly given the current financial predicament of the business to do so would mean paying myself and my father virtually nothing ...it's meager as it is and at present i'm carrying the full budgetary pressure for us both. It's simply not an option i'm afraid. Many look at me incredulousy at this revelation but that's too bad...they aren't running a struggling retail outlet in a town that's dying on its feet. Or put another way they have no fucking clue about how self employment works...or rather doesn't. They only add to my stress levels frankly. It's like the folk who in their well meaning way make suggestions as to how i might improve things...to be honest i feel like saying that if they really want to help they might consider buying something...or keeping quiet. If you ever see a friend who is a retailer in trouble instead of handing out lots of ill informed (and largely innappropiate) advice and thereby increasing their already high stress levels, try putting some money in their till...that's what they usually need more than anything. More about that latter. 

Speaking of stress...my last visit to the dentist revealed that i am now grinding my teeth. A filling on Tuesday was out the following morning and replaced on Thursday...grinding the culprit. No doubt the recent crap with Dad has contributed to this...on top of the existing dresses of the shop and health issues. Apparently the next step if it continues is a gum shield..i haven't worn one of those since school rugby so that should be fun. On the health front i'm trying to eat a bit more carefully (less fat,sugar etc and more fiber, fruit, fish etc) plus drinking at least a liter or more of water a day (i rarely ever drank water so that's proving a chore though a worthwhile one...at least when by bladder adapts properly). I'm also wanting to get out and walk a bit more but that's not so easy...six days on my feet all day in the shop leaves me fairly tired frankly and i'm very conscious of the hernia when it comes to long walks...i'm desperate not to inflame things, especially at the minute. But we shall see. 

I ventured down the road to Hillsborough Park for the first time in about three years or so the other evening...the sort of mild and sunny evening that shows its lake side walk off to best effect. 

That tranquil spot was a weekly haunt in the immediate aftermath of the marital separation ...along with Murlough beach it was one of the few places i was able to gather my discordant and tortured thoughts. If anything it was easier to do so then than it is now. Or perhaps now i've given up trying and simply bow to their inevitable sway...picking an ever narrowing path through their jagged terrain. But it's a start. 

Body horror part 2

Body horror part 2

So there i was ...lying on the doctors couch...lower body exposed...waiting to feel the sword of democles cone crasinug down upon my neck. In reality it was not a sword but a long needle which appeared in the doctors habds. He was pretty sure it wasn't anything "sinister" but any relief at that news was soon tempered by the slowly dawning the knowledge that he was about to stick the afore said needle into my scrotum. He suspected a water cyst...which i'dnever heard of ....but after a couple of excruciating probes with the needle (in a futile attempt to drain some fluid away) it became clear that there was nothing to drain. After quite a bit of deliberation i remembered that some time ago i'd reported a strange feeling just above the groin and had been diagnosed with a small hernia...said small hernia had it seemed become a large hernia and instead the bowel pushing out had instead decided to go downwards into the scrotum...hence the swelling and discomfort. An ultra sound a month later confirmed that this was indeed the case and i now await an appointment with a surgeon in a few weeks...we will take it from there. 

And here we are. I must confess to feeling an odd mix of things on the wake of all this. Firstly embarrassment at foolishly not having the affliction investigated before now. As it turns out such hernias are very common...i've since spoken to at least six people known to me with the same exact ailment. It's unfortunate if not had a conversation with even one of them prior to this...but then it never occurred to me that what i had was anything as mundane as a hernia. The broader issues around why i neglected to go sooner to the doctor are both...to me...oddly clear and yet at the same time slightly mystifying...and have as much to do with my personal psychology as anything else. But that is for another blog. The other thing is that having established what it was not i now have to deal with the offending thing that it is....an op could be less than straightforward and will require time off and recovery time...in my small business that presents its own particular problems...but we will take that as it comes. The diagnosis has also motivated me to lose some weight and try to get fitter...so far i have adjusted my diet a bit (drinking a seperate liter of water a day is a challenge) but getting out even to walk is not that simple as the hernia is making its presence felt somewhat. I also have a few other issues that may need attention....but i can only cope with so much at once. Anyway that's enough body horror for now 

Body Horror

It's been an interesting few months. 

For some time now i have not been well. A number of niggling things which may or may not be connected plus a couple of bigger things. One thing in particular of note. The following contains graphic detail of my anatomy which will not be to everyone's taste. You have been warned. 

I have never liked going to the doctor...this is a trait i believe in men generally but i am not convinced about this as i've met plenty of women who don't either. Since my separation about six years back i've been only a handful of times and even then it's been about something fairly trivial..i always ensured that the subject stayed on trivial matter and that we did not digress into matters of more general health. Not that my doctor is the issue ...he's a perfectly charming and avuncular chap who is easy to talk to. The problem is entirely mine. I'm not exactly sure what it is but it's gotten worse since i've been on my own...as most things do. When your life is turned upside down and you are forced to adapt to a new situation certain things happen which are hard to explain. Ones way of thinking changes...in my case living from week to week (in my head) and not thinking much beyond that became my default setting ...that and my propensity to avoid making decisions and facing things in general increased exponentially. There you have the foundations of manys a problem....especially when it comes to health. For some time i'd been conscious of a particular physical problem which was slowly but progressively getting worse ...and which for a variety of complex reasons i chose to ignore. Since my early twenties (i am now 52) I have had what i choose to call "issues" in the "down below" area (i.e. the scrotal region and all associated with it) ...over a period of years i've had various examinations etc showing nothing of note so in the end i put a lot of it down to my imagination and just an in built discomfort with that particular part of my body. About six years ago i began to intermittently experience what i believed to be severe IBS (this was mainly self diagnosis though as it tended to surface at times of extreme stress i was pretty confident in my conclusions ..,turns out i was at least partly right. )   This would come and go sporadically and since i am self employed (effectively a one man band) and have a reasonably high pain threshold i struggled on with it , occasionally medicating with pain killers etc. During this same period however i detected a swelling in the scrotal region...i am being deliberately vague as i kept it deliberately vague...i knew one of my testicles (as i thought ) was becoming larger and while i was aware that it can  be common enough to have one bigger than the other i also knew that something was wrong if the size was increasing albeit very slowly. . I should point out that i studiously avoided examining the offending item...indeed i avoided all but the most minimum of contact with the offending region other than what was strictly necessary for personal hygiene. I prefer bathing to showering so it was relatively easy to have little contact...i refused even to look down at myself in the bath for fear of what i'd see. I was however aware that the swelling was increasing as i was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in my clothing...twelve months ago i could have worn a pair of regular fit jeans (though i tended not to ) but by this April past i was finding it difficult to get even track bottoms to fit comfortably ...especially  given the current fashion trend of everything being made to grip the crotch like a vice. I had gotten to the stage where i had to wear track bottoms all the time and could not go anywhere that would involve a suit or any formal dress. Given that i do not have much of a social life and rarely dressed formally anyway and that my work allowed for casual dress i was able to get by without it provoking undue attention but i'm pretty sure some folk must have wondered why i was always in loose track pants, even on the rare occasions when i went out for a meal etc. Things came to a bit of a head when i attended my mother in laws funeral...a rare event i could not get out of. For this i had to resort to an

old pair of (way to big) hire trousers which i hid under a long trench coat (fortunately the day of the funeral was wet) ...even then it was a struggle and i felt incredibly self conscious. I knew at this point I was not going to be able to camouflage things for much longer and that i could not keep going like this. About a week later, whatever way i was standing, a friend happened to notice that there was a bulge where there shouldn't be and being the type of friend who would not take no  for an answer insisted that i go see the doctor and threatened to make the appt for me if i did not. While i'd known about this issue for several years at this point it came like a terrible shock to the system to finally be discovered and to have to face the prospect of dealing with it. I wanted to go back to blissful and willful ignorance all the time fully aware that was impossible.  I would now have to do something ...including tell my family (that's an estranged wife, two teens and a 91 year old father) that there was a

problem. That unerved me more than going to the doctor but i managed to cobble something together for them (could be serious but not sure etc) and eventually (it took a further two weeks of threats and coercion by said good friend  ) I made the fateful appointment. 

What happened next is salutary and can wait till the next blog.