The Beginning of the End

So it's Christmas Eve. The streets are bright with decoration and Christmas spirit. I am spending the time with my Mother, one of the only times i come up to see, i am ashamed to say. I have been here four days, and to being honest of slept most of the day as i have been chatting online with my friend. Anyway i have needed to smoke since i got here, and not being a person that really indulges in alcohol anymore, i was getting bored. Anyway today i received a call and managed to get some. Now the one thing that smoke, does for me is makes me think, and whether it is because i am feeling the effects or that's the way my brain would choose to give it to me, but it's like a cartoon light bulb going off in my head, it always makes me chuckle. Anyway on this occasion the thought came into my head not for the first time i may add but this time it felt different. I need to sop smoking!!!

So this is the first entry in my attempt to stop smoking. Now i am going to be as honest as i can about this as i can. I have been smoking for half my life. When you look back at it that disgusting. Haven't achieved half the things i could of if i wasn't smoking. So i need to be realistic, cold turkey isn't going to work, because i am a grumpy bastard and when i don't smoke i am worse, hell just check my Facebook wall, 90% of it is moaning, and the other 10% is people telling me shut up. So i need to set goals, my first goal is my birthday in mid February. But that time i want to be doing half of what i do now, and by end of summer i want to have stopped.

As i can't keep shit to myself i will write it down as i go. The Beginning of the End.

The Simple Things

There are some things that i find i cannot go without. They are all transitional things, i like them for a short period of time and then move onto something else.

Right now as the weather has changed i find myself going back to an old favourite. Rhubarb Crumble. I was taught to make it when i was younger and while i have forgotten how to make it i am quite happy to purchase it from the nearest supermarket. There is something about the crunchy crumb topping mixed with the sloppiness of the warmed up rhubarb. Add either double cream or cornish vanilla ice cream and you have heaven. Every winter i have this, it's like a staple food for winter. Messes with my waistline but that's what spring is for.

Viscount mint biscuits. Thin coat of chocolate covering a melt in the mouth mint centre. Bliss.
Cadbury's fudge, the best mainstream chocolate covering chewy fudge centre, amazing.

And this is my diet killer. Onken raspberry yogurt large pot with a large dose of double cream, it's not right but i just love the taste, the creamy taste, but it's about 500 calories, haha.

But i make this short because it is on my mind, and as always i have to share

From falling from a great height to sexual encounters, dreams keep us busy.

I have a few different dreams:

There's the dream where i feel fear, fear from a violent assault or a fear from losing something. It seems to be a recurring thing. Usually i am running away from someone or something and the dream ends when they or ir catch up to me. According to Dream Moods dictionary:

To dream that you are scared indicates that you are experiencing feelings of self-doubt, incompetence, and lack of control in your waking life. Perhaps you are having second thoughts about a decision you have made. Anger often masquerades as fear, so also consider issues about which you are angry about in your waking life. 

At 37 i suppose it is only natural, i haven't achieved what most people call a normal life. Left my home town in my early 20's never have truly settled, never truly established a meaningful relationship. Have had relationships but they always felt like they came along at the wrong time, i don't regret any of them because it made me who i am but society dictates that you should be in a meaningful relationship by my age. Dreams. The way the mind keeps you occupied in your sleep.

You should have a family and 2.4 kids. But society is broken, there are so many single parent families around, and so many lawless kids as a result of this that i just can't see myself having kids not now, not anymore. If the daydreams ever come true then i will be a millionaire bachelor travelling the world. But as i said daydreams.

Another dream is kissing, strange to me that you can actually define what kissing means in a dream. A year or so ago i was having dreams about one of my best friends, she was living in France at the time and was then living on the party isle of ibiza. She had a french boyfriend at the time and he came across as an okay guy, never showed any outward signs of being a bad person. During the course of their relationship he turned out to be a horrible person and was abusive. My friend chose not to tell me that this was going on until the end. During the time she was with her i had dreams of them kissing. A website said this is a symptom that the person believes they are too close to someone else's relationship and needs to step back. I took this advice and stepped back. But the guilt i felt when i found out has plagued me. If i was more involved i would of known what was going on and i would of been able to stop what happened. It's an irrational thought, but the guilt stays with me. Thinking as i write this she would tell me to sort it out and i don't need to think like that. But thats her she has big heart and is a beautiful person. Because i always thought that i thought it meant something different thought it meant i had feelings for her but after reading the dream site i was happy it wasn't.

Then last night, i dreamt that we were talking in my dream the way we always do, laughing and joking mixed with serious conversation, we were sat on a bench/table in a pub garden, she was sat on the table itself and i was sat n the bench bit. In the dream i said something and she leant in and kissed my cheek. The dream ends. but i do remember most of the dream, the sky was blue, she was wearing a white vest top under a white long sleeved shirt open to the middle and light blue jeans. The grass was lush and green.

When i awoke, i could hear my housemate trying to be as loud as possible sorting through his woork tools, it was 7am. For the next three hours i tossed and turned in bed trying to figure it out, hoping that is wasn't what i thought it was. After getting up i booted my computer and immediately checked what it meant.

 If you are kissing someone on the cheek or someone is kissing you on the cheek, then it signifies admiration, courtesy, reverence, friendship or respect

Once i had read what it meant i felt relief, i have always been a bit insecure about our friendship and so this dream just made me feel better, made me feel like everything was secure with us but it raises the question, what was i insecure about??

That i guess is for another dream.

Christmas the Good and Bad

“Christmas time, Mistletoe and Wine, Children sing in Christian Rhyme.” -  Cliff Richard

I dislike Christmas, I have to admit. When your are young the excitement begins towards the end of November. For me it was the Toys ‘R’ Us advert, where Geoffrey the Giraffe in cartoon form leads the children to the local store like a cartoon Pied Piper. Over the coming month, the Coca-Cola advert comes on with seasonal music and a friendly Santa waves at a child as the big truck tears through some overly lit village. A town made to look like a Santa’s Grotto.

Then you get people who have a desire to cover the front of their houses with Christmas lights. Trying to be the best in the area, trying to prove something like a Bamboon showing bright red ass. Christmas trees in windows, Santa stop here signs. When you look at it, it’s ridiculous. What significance do bright sparkly lights have to do with the birth of a religious Messiah. Do Muslims throw up bright lights to celebrate the birth of Mohammed. No they don’t. To show their appreciation they travel to Mecca, they prey multiple times a day, yet Christians go to Church one day a week or one day a year, on Christmas day to celebrate Jesus. And if you don’t give one third of what you earn you’re a bad Christian. Now who the hell thought of that? That had to be a King wanting more money, a scam to try and get the poor to give more than they had. God will not love you if you don’t give your share. When you live like shit the afterlife is all you have to look forward to.

But I digress. These are just rambling thoughts. Christmas isn’t enjoyable anymore when you hit mid teens. The previous year’s you feel like you are being spoilt. The latest consoles, the latest toys, for me it was Transformers and a Playstation one. But after you leave school, it’s like your parents mindset changes. Your in the real world now, your in the workforce so what do you need with childish things, they think. So what do they get you? Pants and socks, a jumper, clothes generally. Now one of the first things you try to do when you get a job and start living in the real world, is you buy your own clothes. You try to nuture your own style, be your own person. But your parents buy you clothes, and you smile but deep inside you think, that your parents don’t understand you, they don’t get you. They are cramping your style. Your relatives give you cheques for 5 pounds, and more socks, or God forbid the dreaded Christmas Jumper, overly thick and ghastly to the sight, normally depicting reindeers and or Santa.

Then on Christmas day, you wake up not as as early as you used to, because lets be honest you know what your going to get and the programmes on telly that early are all very very childish and beneath you. So you wake up about 9-10ish and wander downstairs in your Christmas pyjamas because you don’t want to offend the family. And shock horror, either family are around or they have invited someone from the neighbourhood around for Christmas morning. And you are embarrassed, thanks Mum. While you hear the neighbour and your Mother sniggering at your pyjamas you open your first card. Happy Christmas Nephew, Auntie and Uncle Blah Blah with the obligatory 5 pound cheque inside or even worse and book voucher. What the fuck? I can’t buy a drink with a book voucher, shit I can’t even buy a bloody comic with a book voucher, what use is it to me. At that age a book voucher is a reminder of school and your past that now, your better then that you have moved on mentally. More cards more money/vouchers. The first present is chocolate in the shape of a fat Santa. The second is a pair a novelty socks. None of which you want. The best present you can hope for is a razor with multiple spare blades and the obligatory aftershave balm and soap on a rope. You spend the rest of the morning bemoaning your gifts in your head, not letting the family know you are disappointed. Until you your Mum tells you to go and get something from the freezer in the garage and you see it. The bike you have wanted for a few months, wrapped in a little bow. Your excitement overwhelms you, you almost start to cry. Christmas has been saved.

Two hours later after you have freezed your ass off riding around on it it time for dinner. A big fat turkey with all the trimmings. Enough to feed a small village in the Third World. Your belly is rumbling, the only down side is you see brussel sprouts on the plate. The Gary Glitters of the vegetable world. Look like big balls of snot and taste like rotting garbage. An hour later, after finishing everything on the plate, under threat of not getting the desert that you so desire. But you have to concede defeat, and undo the button on your jeans. And wait until the food has settled and you have farted out the noxious gas that comes with a plate of sprouts.

You sit in front of the television watching the Christmas specials of comedians that stopped being funny before you were born. The only highlights being the Only Fools and Horses Christmas special and the network premiere of the latest Bond film. By early evening your bored senseless and decide to meet up with friends and hang around on a street corner until it time to be in because it better to be cold then bored with the family.

Over the years this pattern continues until your old enough to drive and you decide to go raving on Christmas and Boxing Day. Your parents don’t really see you till New Years day when you look like shit and can barely put two words together in a cohesive sentence.

Then years later something changes. You have children or someone in the family has children and then your attitude changes. For me it was when my cousin gave birth to her Daughter. She was born in early December and I met her on Christmas Eve. For three hours I held her in my arms and we bonded. She grabbed my little finger and didn’t let go. I fell in love with her that day. The following Christmas’s were spent trying to find the perfect gift for her in her age range. Whenever we were in the same room she would come and find me, insist on sitting next to me. By the time she reached four years old she was walking and talking. Grateful for the presents she had been giving. Showing her appreciation with a hug and an “I Love you”. And all of a sudden Christmas gets back it’s meaning. It’s not about Jesus, it’s not about the crass commercialization, the Hallmark moments, it’s about the children, the look on their faces. The love they give and you give back.

Christmas is about family and love.

Another year another day to be depressed

Today, so society dictates is my birthday, and i should be out celebrating, getting drunk and having a whale of a time. But i am 37 years old and haven't felt like that for about 10 years. If i am honest just don't get the whole going out thing anymore. Yeah from time to time if housemates are DJing or there is a special event i will go out. The local on a saturday nght once or twice a month is enough for me. 

I went to a wedding this weekend, of Paul Delaney and Julie Hogsden, two people i met through a club night out, was a lovely reception and was a long night out, rolling in at 11 in the morning, showering changing and going straight to the pub to carry on. By 2pm i was done but still feeling it today. Just feels like another day, waking up late and flicking through the channels trying in vain to find anything to watch on a satellite box that has more channels then i can care to count. But yet nothing is there to watch. 

But, i digress, let me get to the point, this is the one day when i would assume i can have a good moan about things and not have anyone bitch at me about it. Let me start by pointing out a few things that have come to my attention this past year.

• Can't seen to have a piss in one go anymore, always stop starting.
• Why is it people get on a bus in the middle of winter and automatically assume that we other passengers that have been on it shivering our asses off, would welcome you opening a window
• Loud music coming through tinny speakers on a bus is annoying
• Soaps on telly, work in yearly cycles, garanteed every year, there will be a murder and a drawn out plot where someone else goes to jail before they realise who the real killer is. Looking at you Hollyoaks and Eastenders.
• Jeans hanging off the ass look stupid, whoever you are. 
• Uggs and leggings on skinny girls look ridiculous
• Whatever happenend to the rule in macdonalds from back in the day that stated you got free meal if they didn't give it you in 5 minutes?
• When you work in a big company with huindreds in the same building, you realise that some people truly are disgusting human beings. 

Yes by reading tis your first thought will probably be, damn, he turning into a grumpy old man, but then, that would show you haven't known me that long i have always beeen grumpy lol

Tre and Olivia an exercise in creative writing

They had been dating for a month, they had enjoyed all the usual dates, Cinema, dinner and bars. But tonight they were going to a club in the centre of the city. Tre was dressed in smart casual trousers, loafers and black shirt, his shaven head glistened slightly as the taxi drove through the wet streets.
“The Taxi is gonna be there in 10 minutes, PLEASE be ready.” Tre said into his phone. In all the time that he had known her she had never been on time. As the taxi drew closer to her flat, Tre grew apprehensive. He always felt nervous around Olivia, she was beautiful, smart, great sense of humour and most of all she was everything he could want in a woman.

As the taxi rounded the final corner Tre let Olivia’s phone ring once to let her know they were there. The light that shone from her window turned off as the cab pulled over. Tre stepped out of the cab and held the door open for Olivia. His jaw dropped, Olivia looked stunning. Her skin glistened in the street lights. She was wearing a black mini-dress, it cut just above her knees and stuck to her thighs and bum, her black tights and strappy shoes finishing off the outfit. A small crucifix necklace hung in the groove of her ample breasts, which were just covered by her dress, her nipples visible due to the slight chill in the air. Her hair was braided and tied back, a single braided hair floated on the left side of her face. Her pink lipstick shone, making her lips looking juicy. He kissed her cheek as he wrapped his coat around her shoulders. They sat in the back of the taxi side by side holding hands. Twenty minutes later and after various jokes thanks to the driver’s road rage they pulled up outside the club. Tre paid the taxi and they both got out, his arm around her waist pulling her closer.

The club stretched for a block, the red neon side along the side of the building, emblazoned the word ‘Crystal’. The queue was as long as the building itself. People were huddled together, laughing, smiling and chatting about the night before them. Tre and Olivia crossed the road, heading for the front of the queue and to the doorman. Dressed in black suits and dark glasses they looked menacing. A thin man with a face like a weasel stood between them, like the doormen he had an earpiece but he also had a clipboard.
“Wait here please babes, I’ll be a second.” He said patting her ass.
“Guest list?” said the weasel as Tre approached.
“Yeah, name is Tremayne Walker, plus one.”
The weasel looked down his list, ticking a box and handed him two red wristbands. He put them into his pocket.

“Thank you” was his reply as he turned back to Olivia. He took the wristbands from his pocket and gave one to Olivia, who put it on her wrist, he did the same. Looking around he could see the envy in peoples faces who had to wait in the queue, he didn’t care, not that he was arrogant just that he was happy being with Olivia.
They walked past the doormen and into the reception area. The foyer was laid out like an office reception, two attractive women stood behind a long counter with tills and computers at either end. Above them was a sign pointing left and right to the various dance floors.
“Bashment or R&B?” He said looking at Olivia.
“Start with R&B and I’ll mash you up later to the bashment, ha ha.” She replied giving him a wink.
The RNB room was packed, wall to wall with people. The room was huge, with a DJ booth right in the middle of the room. Long red curtains stretched from floor to ceiling. At the far end was a grand staircase which led upstairs to the toilets and a balcony viewing area with black leather couches. People danced around the couple as they walked to the bar.
“An Amaretto and lemonade please, and a Southern comfort red bull for myself, thanks. Oh can you make those doubles?” Tre shouted across the bar. Tre fished for some change and paid the barman. Olivia took the drinks and walked over to a quiet corner on the dance floor, Tre joined her and they drank as they swayed to the music, letting the beat take over their bodies. Tre was feeling anxious so downed his drink, hoping Olivia would do the same so that they could dance and he could feel less apprehensive. But Olivia was happy to sip her drink and take her time.
“Just going to the toilet babes, be back in a minute, behave yourself, lol.” He said as he headed back through the crowd and up the stairs to the toilet. As is customary in clubs there was a wait for the toilets, it seemed everyone wanted to go at the same time. As he stood waiting for his time a familiar face walked in.
“Yo, Paul, wassup ,man.” Tre said, surprised to see his old school friend here.
“All good man, you got a cigarette I need a spliff”. Paul replied.
“Yeah man, hook me up though, gonna need one myself by the end of the night.”
Paul pulled out a small plastic button bag filled to the brim with a light green weed, he opened the bag and pulled out the equivalent of three spliffs and placed it in Tre’s hand, “this is some sticky icky shit blud so tek time.” Said Paul, as he handed over some cigarette papers as well.
“Thanks man. What you doing here anyway?” Tre asked.
“Oh me and Wifey celebrating, gonna be a baby daddy.” Paul replied with a broad smile on his face.
“Congratulations man” Tre said hugging him, “come let me get you a celebratory drink”.
Tre dragged Paul from the toilets and towards the bar. Paul was dressed in blue moleskin jeans, with a crisp white shirt with an Infinity logo on the back. At school his hair had been always short and well kept, but now it was a 70’s afro but still well kempt. As they walked down the stair they caught up and talked about school times. All the while looking out for their respective partners. Tre could see Olivia dancing with another woman.
“See that hot oman in the red dress?” Paul said to Tre pointing to the lady next to Olivia, “that’s the wifey.”
“Oh seen, the woman she with is my soon to be wifey” Tre said smiling. They both laughed out loud, pleased with their women.
They headed for the bar and ordered two bottles of champagne and four glasses. Before heading on to the dance floor. Olivia kissed Tre as he gave her a glass, before being introduced to Paul’s wifey.
“Tre, this is Dionne” he said with a smile. Tre looked her over as he shook her hand. She had dark black hair in ringlets, diamond earrings and pearl necklace. Her skin was Mocha like Olivia’s, but she was also petite in frame girl but all the more cute for it.
“Hi, I’m Tre, I see you have met Olivia, congratulations on the baby, hope all goes well.”
After a while they all needed a rest so they headed up to the VIP room, a small room compared to the rest of the rooms. It was black throughout, fixtures and fittings. The room was dimly lit with cubby holes at either end with tables and enough for six people cramped or four comfortably. In the middle of the room was a long bar and the other side was the DJ booth. The music was chilled out and appropriate to everyone’s mood. The group sat in a cubby hole and drank their champagne, there they sat for an hour before Olivia decided she wanted to let loose in the Bashment room. Truth being she wanted to see what Tre had got in the dancing stakes.

As plush as the rest of the club had been the bashment room came as a shock to Tre. The room was dark, the only lights visible were the orange glow of the cigarettes being burnt and the flames from the lighters lighting them. There was also a thick smoke in the air, Tre knew what it was, Weed, Marijuana, Mary Jane. The sweet smells making him pause in the doorway. He turned to his right three youths were nodding their heads to the bass line of the music, the one on the middle was sprinkling weed into a cigarette paper held by his friend to the right. He finished rolling his joint and carried on nodding their heads. Olivia grasped his hand and pulled him behind her onto the dance floor, he watched as she wiggled her hips provocatively. She pulled him onto the dance floor, the bass was overwhelming and the beat took Tre with it. One foot forward then back then the other foot. Looking around he cold see everyone was doing the same kinda stomping move, it felt like the floor was moving every time his foot hit the floor. The sweet smell of weed and the alcohol in his system helped Tre to relax and get into the dancing. Feeling brave he moved behind Olivia, whose body movements were turning him on no end. His hands clasped her hips as he pulled her closer to him, her back to his chest. Holding her there for a minute he felt for Olivia’s movements then mimicked them in time with her. When she stomped he stomped. They continued to dance like this for what felt like hours, their bodies moulded together, nothing could part them. While they danced Paul and Dionne came over to say their goodbyes, they all exchanged numbers and promised to meet up soon.

After they had left the music changed tempo, moving up a few beats, the music was more energetic. Grabbing Tre by his belt buckle Olivia pulled him into a corner.
“Let’s see what you got” she said smiling. She was stood nose to nose, she was challenging him. She raised her led around his waist and began moving to the music. Her crotch rubbing against his. She put her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, grinding against him. He held her leg against his side, his head bowed, looking into her cleavage. The perspiration on her breasts, mixed with the scent of her perfume was intoxicating to him. His free hand running along her thigh just under the hem of her dress and back down to the joint of her knee. Caressing it lightly he looked into Olivia’s face, she was biting her bottom lip, a sign she was enjoying the attention. She continued to hold his gaze, he could feel her breath on his cheek, and he could tell she wanted a kiss. She moved closer, almost lips touching, waiting for Tre to kiss back. At the last second he spun her around, again her back was to his chest. He bent his knees, slowly taking her down with him, her bum pressing back in to his groin as they bounced while crouching to the music. His hands slowly moved up her body, along her ribcage to the underside of her breasts. Being pressed as tightly as they were the heat was noticeable. Raising up they moved into a corner. Dancing was not on their minds anymore, this was lust. They stood in the corner face to face, each waiting for the other to make a move. Swallowing hard, Tre leant forward with his lips caressing hers gently. He could feel her lip gloss, the stickiness, the faint taste of peaches. His lips gently sucking her bottom lip, using his tongue to gently lick at it. She looked up in surprise, she could not believe a kiss could be this good. Her hands reached down to his butt, pulling him closer. Her mouth opening and pushing her tongue into his mouth, their tongues entwined. His hands now caressing her ass too, pulling her closer still, his crotch pushing into hers.
They headed back into the RNB room as the smoke had become too much in the bashment room. The music now was slower, or slow jams as Olivia like to call them. The moulded themselves into each others bodies and danced some more, until the lights came up and everyone was told to leave.

Outside of the club, other revellers were milling about, some taking numbers, some waiting for cabs, and some discussing food. Tre stood by the side of the club waiting for Olivia to collect her coat. He could see it had been raining as the roads were wet and every time a car went past it splashed through the puddle next to the kerb. He was lost in his own world when he was bought back to earth by Olivia pinching his bottom. He spun round taking her in his arms and kissing her again.
“Taxi?” she asked
“Where we going?” he replied
“Well how bout mine, have a drink have a chat, have a cuddle.” She smiled
“But babes I am starving” he said winking
“Well I got some curry goat at home if you that hungry” She quipped??
“Sold??, TAXI” he said laughing and signalling for a passing taxi.
It was late by the time they pulled up to Olivia’s flat. The pavements were still wet but there was less of a chill in the air compared to earlier when he came to pick her up. As was customary he got out of the cab and opened the door for Olivia. As she got out she slipped on the wet pavement, forcing her to fall forward into Tre’s arms. Her arms instinctively going around his neck for support. They were face to face again, they started kissing hard, eating each others faces.
‘Beep Beep’
Tre looked down the taxi man looked up, he was laughing,
“Is someone gonna pay me tonight”
“Sorry mate” said Tre leaning into the window to give him a £20 note “keep the change mate and thanks.”
Olivia and Tre walked hand in hand up the stair’s to her flat, the sense of anticipation was overwhelming. As Olivia fiddled with her keys to get her door open Tre was feeling her bum, squeezing it like he was weighing up melons at a supermarket. She opened the door and walked in, he was hot on her heels his hands not moving from her bum. He shut the door behind himself and pulled her back by her bum, then grabbing her hand he spun her round to face him. She forcibly pushed him back against the door, she looked at him from barely an inch away and studied his face, his features. The desire evident in his face, his hands now gripping her bum, pulling her closer, she could feel the excitement by the heat from his crotch. He moved his hands up and down her body as they began to kiss again, his hands finding the bottom of her dress, pulling it up to reveal that what he thought were tights were in fact stocking the whole time.
“Damn” he said in mock annoyance
“What” she said perturbed by the stopping.
“All night I thought these were tights and was looking forward to ripping them open and devouring you, but no they are stocking so have to work another way” he said laughing “Were you, well, thought I would surprise you babes.” She replied all smiles.
He took her hand leading her into her own living room and pushed her back gently on to her three seater. He stood before her as her legs were open slightly, her could see her red panties and the tops of her stockings. Her necklaces falling between the mounds of her breasts, looking so inviting. He knelt before her, a hand on each knee, inching slowly closer to his goal. Using his hands as a guide he slowly moved his hands further up her thighs until he could feel the hem of her dress riding up and the feel of her panties at his fingertips. He moved his face closer, the heat from her crotch was noticeable along with the wet patch slowly growing across the front of her panties. He smelled her scent then pulled her panties aside to taste what he had wanted all night. With his eyes in contact with hers he poked out his tongue and gently licked the hood above her clit, she moaned quietly, her eyes closing briefly for a second. He took this as a sign to go ahead, using his finger he pushed back the hood and licked at her clitoris in long strong strokes, pushing her clit down with every up or down stroke. He used his fingers from his right hand to slowly trace the outline of her pussy lips, her wet and now puffy pussy lips, before slowly pushing a finger then tow into her hole. He could feel the slickness or her pussy making it easy for him to put his finger in deeper. With his finger all the way in he began to lick her clit harder, forcing her to squirm on her sofa, trying to close her legs but because of his head and hands being there she was unable to. He continued to lick at her, using various strokes and tempos until with the aid of his other hand tickling her anus with a wet finger she came all over his face, her hand grabbing the back of his shaven head as she did do, forcing his face deeper into her. After about 30 seconds of orgasmic pleasure and her breath catching in her throat Olivia let him go, at which point he collapsed back onto the floor trying to gain the necessary amount of air to keep him going.
He slumped back onto his elbows and just regained his composure.
“Right my turn” Olivia said bouncing off the sofa straddling him. She kissed him deeply her own juices tasting on her lips. She quickly began to unbutton his shirt and belt buckle, discarding items to the floor whenever they were free of his body. Until he was left in nothing but socks and boxers.
“This is not a nice look, socks lol” said Olivia immediately peeling them off his feet. She slid down his body so her butt was on his ankles, her left hand reaching into his black boxers for his penis. She pulled down his boxers and released his penis in all its glory. It stood proud in the air for the second that she released it. An audible “hmmmm” could be heard emanating from her lips. She bent forward, kissing the tip of his penis, using her tongue to lick down the sides of it. She teased him until his eyes closed and dropped his head back. She then took his head into her mouth sucking it slowly at first then getting faster, causing saliva to drip down the sides of it, she could see he was loving it, as much as she loved doing it. Once she was satisfied he was near his limit she engulfed his whole penis right down to the root and sucked until after a short period he released his seed into her mouth, with a quick swallow it was gone, all that was left was to wipe the residue from her cheeks which she did with the tip of her finger, before licking it clean in front of him.
Feeling euphoric and totally relaxed they walked into her bedroom. Her large bed was easily big enough for two people, four large pillows at the tops of the bed and crisp white sheets and duvet adorned the bed itself.
“Thwack”
“Goddamn” Tre shouted at the top of his voice “what the hell was that?” he asked while gently rubbing his bum, trying to stop the stinging.
“My whip” she said holding up a riding crop
“Keep that shit away from me” he replied laughing again, he saw the funny side but was damn sure he didn’t want to feel that kind of pain again, it was about giving pain not receiving. He fell forward onto the bed, face down before turning over to see Olivia pounce on him. His dick was hard again now so she gently massaged it between her thumb and forefinger getting him as hard as possible. When she thought he was ready she sat astride him, all the time holding his penis until it was at the entrance to her pussy. He could feel her lips hovering above his penis, he pushed up but she moved up with him, stating that she was in control of this and not him, he was merely there to obey orders. When she was good and ready and thought that she had teased him enough she lowered herself down onto him, feeling every inch as it entered her, feeling herself be widened by his girth. He in return stayed still doing as he was told, waiting for the chance to take the lead. She slowly moved up and down onto him, slowly at first but gradually building up pace, at times her pelvis came down onto his causing him to wince but the pain was bearable due to the feelings the were going around in side of him. This was so much better then a quick shag round the side of a club as most of his sexual activities had been this felt special this felt like love.
“Switch” he shouted turning her onto her side. He moved from beneath her standing at the base of the bed. As she lay on her left hand side he raised her right leg, resting it on his shoulder and inserting into her again, this time with force making her gasp for air, he pounded into her time after time, alternating between fast and slow, hard and soft. Olivia was squeezing her breasts and pulling at her nipples with one hand while the other frantically rubbed at her clit, trying as hard as possible to come as soon as possible. Tre upped his tempo until he was going flat out, his knees starting the feel the burn along with the back of his thighs. His brow drenched with sweat, it was slowly dripping down his face, through his eyebrows and onto his eyelids, some drops even dripping onto Olivia’s thighs. Looking down he noticed her stockings were now ripped from the friction that had been caused while they were going at it, he grinned. Olivia’s eyes were closed now and she was trying to catch her breath, but he pumped harder and faster yet again, using the last of his reserves, he was close he could feel he was close, just as he thought he would come, she came, howling loudly as her eyes rolled and juices dripped from her pussy onto his pubic hair, almost matting it as it did so. It was too much for Tre he pulled out of her jets of his seed spraying on her thighs, her stomach and some even reached her breasts, she massaged it in then grabbed Tre for a kiss, along lingering kiss. His arms unable to support him any longer collapsed under his weight, his head hitting the pillow next to her. He reached out pulling her closer to him, her head on his chest. A final kiss and they were asleep

What you should know about me

1. Was born in Oxford

2. Am an only child

3. As a child wanted to be a Harrier Pilot

4. First song ever bought for me was Diamond Nights by Glenn Hoddle and Chris Waddle

5. Have a record company director for an Uncle and a Producer for another (never see them)

6. Support Arsenal as a memorial to a dead friend

7. First childhood memory is watching toys thrown out a 6th storey window and crying for hours

8. Find it very hard to look into someones face when talking

9. Once met Jimmy Saville

10. Believe in the theory of Evolution, god is a man made phenomenon to give people false hope

11. Firmly believes that when a mother says "I don't want you playing with those boys" they can see the future.

12. Loves kids but refuse to have any at this time or the near future

13. I have a brain full of useless information and stats, but then might be good for weakest link

14. The greatest song ever is Shaft theme by Issac hayes (the production is awesome)

15. If your first thought is to use your fist, then your already weaker minded then i am

16. A community brings up a child not just the parents.

17. Grew up listening to Motown but graduated to RnB, Hip Hop, Drum and Bass, Garage, thankfully found my way to House.

18. Regrets the last two years of his granparents lives

19. Regrets the ages of 16 to 21, for the torment and anxiety caused to my Mother

20. I spent a week in hospital for doing the right thing

21. Would consider doing big Brother for the experience not the fame

22. YES I AM JUDGEMENTAL

23. I can take criticism but your still an idiot

24. I have a talent for writing, short stories not poetry, i'm not a fairy

25. My grandparents were children of slaves

Life is full of challenges

Open letter to the people of Banbury

Dear Banbury 

With the exception of the 12 people i know in this town, this is for you. 

As a child i grew up in Oxford, which to be fair is a lovely town and after visiting after a good ten years the other day, i have to say it is more beautiful then ever. And while your toown centre is beautiful you lot have some major issues. 

Namely, that everyone i have come across that works in the retail trade in your fair town, has one thing in common. You all have a GCSE in RETARDATION! 

My first issue is the train station, the woman behind the counter looks like the Mel B face from Bo Selecta with the intelligence and voice of Bungle from Rainbow. "How can i help you?" in a slow drawl, "No well i can't find it so it must not be there!" Wrong bitch as soon as i complained oh look you can find my train for the price i wanna pay. 

Mcdonalds, Jeeeeeeeez who the hell takes over a building that is so obviusly not made to be a fast food restaurant. As soon as you walk in your in a queue, but that queue is blocking people getting out as well. The people behind the couter make you wait 20 minutes to be served cos their conversation is so much more important then your hungry belly. And then when you ask for something as simple as no pickle in your burger, they tell you to wait then go on a break, so 20 minutes later the supervisor is well surprised when you get all angry with him, yet they still don't see the problem. Well "The problem is, mate, that you kept me waiting for 20 minutes for a fucking burger and when it does come it cold and still got pickle in it, so yes i am fecked off." 

And you, you overweight under educated minger in the newsagent, with a face like she been slapped by the back of a bus reversing. "Oi love, how can i take you 10 minutes to issue some lottery tickets??" Honestly. And to the two old ladies that shoulder barged me in said shop and looked at me like i'm something on the bottom of their shoe, i hope you fall on the ice and break your fucking hip. 

But generally to all the residents of this shit of a town i have to say what is up with you people. The young girls dress like they pole dancing, the old people wear Barbour and young guys have all got those stupid hats like Dappy from N-Dubz. Your not big, your not clever and in any other town you would be owned in a major way. Shit my mates girlfriend could put you on your ass, so advance warning next time i come up i ain't gonna take your shit. 

Yes today i am angry, yes today i wanna kill somene, and yes if i had a say i would nuke the entire town and start afresh with rats, would seriously be a better outcome. 

Yours 

A fucking angry man

Goodbye Nana xx

In my early years I spend a lot of time in Wales, a place called Newport in Gwent. It was about 10 miles after the Severn Bridge and Toll. In my memory it was always grey and cloudy, the buildings looked dated but not architecturally beautiful, just depressing, like if it was in black and white. The most modern building was the new Leisure centre that had a waterslide that came outside before going back in. To me it always looked like the builders messed up during the construction and that’s how it turned out.  One of the things I do remember was always going for a tea break in Marks and Spencer’s with my Nana and Grandfather. It was like a ritual I always had a juice and a cake with strawberries and cream regardless of the time of year. This would always be in the middle of a long drawn out shopping trip, where my Nana would spoil me by buying me clothes and toys. She used to love buying me jumpers in Marks and Spencer’s and flat caps. I don’t know why she used to like buying flat caps but I loved her so I never questioned it. Who knew she would be 20 years in front of fashion trends, because I see flat caps everywhere these days. Another memory is the way people use to look at me when I was with my Nana, she being white me being mixed race, people would look at me with this weird expression, like I was a novelty. This lead to me having a belief that I was the black sheep of the family.

Nana and Bompa as he was referred to, lived in a cul-de-sac with shops at the end. Newsagent, fish and chip shop and of course a bookies. They had a bungalow with a separate garage that was full of the families junk neatly tucked away onto shelves. At the back was the most amazing rose garden. It smelt like heaven and every time I went into the garden I used to get lost in the smell. Inside the bungalow there were 5 rooms. A master bedroom, their bed was  so high off the ground, I used to have to get a chair to jump on it. A guest room for family who came to visit, a bathroom with a bath no shower. The kitchen where the magic happened and dreams came true. Seriously if you would of tasted her Victoria sponge cake you would of just melted. The living room looked out onto the back garden, and was the focal point of the bungalow.

When my Mother and I used to visit we would normally drive down the Friday evening and stay until the Sunday. Saturdays were saved for going into town. Every summer we would attend the Monmouthshire Show, which was an Agricultural show. We would watch the displays and the judging, while taking in all the atmosphere and the stalls. That was usually followed by a meal at Nanas then Television and an early night. Sundays, we would always go to a pub/restaurant that the Grandparents used to own back in the 70’s, it was an hour or so drive out into the beautiful countryside. My Grandparents knew the new owners, and we were always treated very well there. Mum used to tell me repeatedly over the years that when they lived her she lost her hair. I bet if I mention that pub again she will tell me she lost her hair. I would always have steak and chips, regardless of the day, followed by two large helpings of strawberry ice cream. The family usually ate the traditional family roast or Rainbow Trout. Sunday roasts to me have never been about going to a restaurant, Sunday roasts are there to bring the family together.

Living about a mile away from my Nana was my Aunty Norma. She was a single parent with three kids. My cousin’s Philip, Gillian and the youngest Michael who was two years older than me. She lived in a house and when we visited I would spend my time in the loft with Michael playing with train sets and matchbox cars. Cousin Philip would usually be out and about with his friends causing trouble while Gill kept herself to herself. My Mother and my Aunt would discuss the garden and family matters, they would later fall out. I have to say I enjoyed her house, especially the attic, my cousin Michael had a lair in that attic and I loved every minute in it. I was told that my Uncle Owen, Michaels father died while pottering around in the loft, he supposedly feel down the ladder, by all accounts he was a nice guy, my Aunt would go onto marry again years later. Oh I forgot to mention the neighbours, they were amazingly friendly people, years later when my Grandfather died I returned to Newport they were there, and they were so friendly reminding me of my behaviours as a child. But so lovely, so warm.

One day my Grandparents decided to downsize and moved into a flat inside a big house. They needed to move all of their stuff, so my Mother volunteered my services to help do the shifting. I enrolled my friend Steve to help as well, at the time he was spending most of his time at mine anyway so it made sense. We hired a van and drove down to Wales, moved all their stuff and what wasn’t needed we kept, as it couldn’t fit in the new place. After the initial move was done my friend Steve managed to break the key in the lock. The problem with transit vans back in the day was the door key was also the ignition key. So if you broke the ignition key then you’re kind of screwed. We had to call out the AA and it was quite funny sat in the van being transported to Newbury where we would be transferred to another truck before going home. We eventually got home at 2am, a long day, very tiring and it gave birth to the name Suzie Wong, which my friend Steve made up that day and called her most of the day “Ahhh, what’s up Suzie Wong?”. Personally thought it was funny but Mother was tired so she didn’t see the funny side at all. Although now she doesn’t mind, reminds her of a better time, a happier time.

Shortly after Nana moved into the new flat she became ill. Mum would visit most weekends, and I would stay at home, partly because I was a stroppy teen, partly because didn’t want to see my ill Nana. For 6 months she would go to Wales and I would stay in Oxford with my friends, free house let’s party mentality. It got to a point where she was really ill. Mum convinced me to go and see her, to go to Wales and visit Nana to show support. The night before I went to bed early not really knowing what to expect. In the morning we did our usual routine of going to the supermarket and stocking up on sweets and drinks for the journey. My usual haul included Beano comic, Raspberries and cream hard boiled sweets, smokey bacon crisps and a stack of pannini football stickers and the album to put them in. We would normally stop again at a service station and grab some fast food before we paid the Severn bridge toll and into Wales. As we approached Wales I always got excited, I used to love going across the bridge and being fascinated by size and the effort involved in putting it together.  One thing that sticks in my mind about the bridge is, the tide always seemed to be out, the bottom of the river was visible a brown muck. Even when I went back last year it was out, weird that. This time didn’t feel any different. It wasn’t until we pulled up outside the flat that I realized this was different. I could see my Aunt Norma’s car and my Aunt Bevs car too, which meant this wasn’t going to be fun, as they were really fussy, even though I was now a teen they still treated me like a child. I used to think it was because I was the black sheep of the family literally, being the only one with any real colour in my skin, but it wasn’t that whey genuinely were fussy women. Christmas’s at my Aunt Bev’s in Bath meant sleeping on a hard floor with my cousins, being awoken by the smell of my uncle smoking cigars, I blame him for never being able to dunk a basketball, and having to go to Church on Christmas eve.

We walked in and immediately I could see all the adults in the family were there, Michael wasn’t nor Gill and Phil, as they lived locally I kind of expected that they had been round a lot in my absence. My Mother said to me in the hallway that Nana was ill and it may come as a bit of a shock to me. It didn’t register; I mean, to me my Nana was always happy, smiley and loved me more than the others (in my mind). So when I entered the living room I was in shock. Gone was the vibrant smile, gone was the upwardly mobile woman I knew and loved. Sat in the chair was a weak and feeble woman who had been ravaged by illness. She could barely support her own weight. I immediately knelt before her so she knew I was there, and clasped her hand. I stayed in that position for the next 6 hours. I helped her to the toilet on two occasions, my grandfather was not happy both times but he was shooed away by Nana, telling him not to fuss. My time was spent on her for the whole time I was there; I put her to bed, told her I love. Then my Mother and I left, driving back to Oxford that night. We didn’t speak in the car, I put my seat back and went to sleep. I awoke halfway through the journey when we were pulled over by the police for speeding. I was in the passenger seat, and woke up to an empty car, my Mother in the police car behind looking over the video of her speeding. Once she got back in the car I went back to sleep. We got home at 2am, I had some food, a joint and sat watching telly until 6am.

I woke the next day about 2pm, feeling down. My Mother knocked on my door, popped her head in and advised that, during the night my Nana had died. It didn’t register, and I spent the day with Dean, Chris and the Roachford boys playing football in the estate park. I stayed out late that night because home wasn’t a great place to be. I think I got home about 1am that night. Pulled my mattress off my bed and put it in the downstairs bedroom, I have no idea why but it became a pattern over the years. I then went to sleep. I woke up the next morning and the first thing I did was cry, I didn’t stop crying until that evening. The tears flowed freely all day and I am glad they did, Nana would of wanted me to get over her death quickly. Mum explained to me that Nana had held on for me, she had held on until I came to visit her, she waited for me to say goodbye.

We went down a week later with my cousin Natalie, the evening before the funeral. We had booked into a bed and breakfast across the street from the flat, as there was no room in the flat for us to stay. We arrived about 3pm, checked in and left our stuff going over to the flat. We went over to the flat for about 4ish and the mood was somber. My Grandfather periodically gave me the evils, so I spent my time talking to my cousins Michael and Phillip. As the afternoon became evening, I sat in Nanas chair and watched television. The adults were discussing going to see the open casket of my Nana. My Mother was for the idea, my Aunts and my Grandfather were not. My cousins thought I was too young but if I wanted to go I should be allowed to go.  Voices were raised and tempers flared, there were probably underlying issues going on between the adults but on this day, this evening, the discussion was, about me.  And I was not allowed to visit the open casket, this turned into a massive argument, at which point I turned up the television to drown out the noise. The noise stopped, my Grandfather turned to me and shouted “Turn that telly down now, you always have o be the centre of attention.” I burst into tears, my Mother took my hand and we left, immediately driving back to Oxford. Suffice to say we missed the Funeral and it is to this day I have a deep regret about that. I don’t know where she is buried, I know she was cremated and her ashes scattered in a cemetery near my Grandfather who died a few years after. But I don’t know where. At least once a week I think of her and apologise for being a disappointment to her, not living up to my potential. But I feel worse for my Mother, without Nana, she doesn’t speak to her sisters, Nana would of cracked heads and sorted them out. I don’t know where or how to contact my cousins. It’s like my family in this country don’t exist, it’s like it’s just me and my Mum against the world. If we had that mentality, but she has never been that way and neither have I, so it’s just me and my Moms. I do have a half brother who is older and younger brother and sisters know very little about them, because like I said Dad was an asshole who knows no idea of commitment or responsibility, so that’s where I get it.

A few years later my Grandfather died. I was living in London at the time, in a YMCA. The last few times I had seen him we didn’t we didn’t get along, I think to this day he hated me for me being the person that Nana spent her time with before she died, time that he should have had. I partly agree with him and understand but I didn’t deserve the disdain he showed me. I only went to the funeral because my Mother who had been living in the United States for a few years had come back for it. My contempt for my Grandfather was obvious by my dress sense, Red jeans and a blue shirt. Everyone was already at the Church when I got there, my cousins rushed over to me, hugging me and saying how it had been so long. My Mother smiled as I sat down next to her, she clasped my hand. As the coffin was carried in we had a quick catch up about our lives. Hymns were sung and he was cremated before being scattered on the grounds of the crematorium. It was during this time that I first realized the arguments between my Mother and her sisters. It appeared that my lovely aunts had forgotten where hey scattered the ashes of my Nana. Whether this was true or not I don’t know, I always thought that they just said it to piss my Mum off, for missing the original funeral. Either way, from this day I noticed how much my Mother hated her sisters. I spend post funeral getting drunk with my cousins on cider. I stayed till quite late, after the speeches and toasts, before catching a coach back to London with my Mother. We talked the whole way, and I like to think that out the seed into her head for coming home again. We reached Victoria were we parted ways, she back to the airport and I back to the hostel. It was a long day. When I talk to my Nana I never mention my Grandfather, does that make me a bad person?

A short history of me - Chapter two-ish

So I’ve left school and I spent the summer  enjoying the that feeling when you first experience cannabis. Getting high, sleeping in and hanging around street corners and parks the way you do at that age. Smoking cannabis and having banter, staying out until late at night, the freedom of youth. The only memory of that summer was the playscheme, not one of those kids ones but a teenage one. It was held at the national park that backed onto our estate. We played flags for about four hours a day. Hiding in the bushes waiting for someone to come before tagging them and hoping your team grabs their flag. Would then go home and hang out in the estate park with Dean and Chris, and the Roachfords until their sister Sacha called them in. We played football and chilled.

Actually I lie, that summer I also got drunk for the first time, and as a result I hate the feeling of being drunk, the feeling of no control and it stems from this incident. Dean, Chris and myself had been invited to a party a few roads down. We decided that before we went we would have a few drinks. We went to the local shop and despite all being under-age Mr Gandhi (I shit you not) sold us three four packs of beer, if I remember rightly Castlemaine XXXX, and half a bottle of vodka. We went back to Chris’s house, his family were out, and Chris put on some porn, to this day I remember it was called The Jade Pussycat, I found out recently that it is a classic. Anyway we sat around watching porn and I remember that the house was warm and outside was cold. I drank my four beers and felt, nice. Then drank a quarter of the vodka, still feeling great. Waited for the other guys to finish their drinks so we could leave. Obviously I was feeling great as we headed out, Chris’s house like my house my mixed up, the living room was upstairs. As we headed down the stairs I stumbled but just laughed, by the time we reached the front door we were in good spirits laughing and making a little noise but it was only 9-ish. I don’t remember much about the next 5 minutes other than, Dean opened the front door, I felt the cold air, as the air hit my face I remember looking up across the street to see my Mother in her bedroom window, laughing, then I remember falling face first like you see in the movies, but there was no crash mat to catch me just concrete pavement. As I lay there looking up at the stars, Chris and Dean did nothing to help just laugh, my Mother was laughing, no helping, laughing. After about 20 minutes I managed to get to my feet, more than willing to go home, but Mum wasn’t having it so we went to the party. We got to the party and I wasn’t feeling great. You know the feeling you get when you know you are going to be sick it is just a matter of time. After about 20 minutes I went outside the front and puked my guts up for a good amount of time. Now for anyone that has ever been really really sick, you will know that you get the shivers after because you have lost most of your heat in the puke and most of your fluids. I was sat slumped on the kerb with my head between my knees trying to get the last of the sick from the back of my throat. The next thing I know felt a sudden rush of wet and cold. Someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over me, felt like a big bucket as well. My shivering went into overdrive and I can’t remember a time when I have felt more not with it (except for the time at the lock in, having to go to work and sleeping in a wardrobe). I wasn’t with it, but I could hear a kerfuffle behind me. Chris had apparently not agreed with the bucket action and laid out some guy on the drive, girls were screaming and Dean was standing over me making sure I was okay. For the next hour I sat on the kerb before going home. The two things I got from that night were, it felt good that there was someone to keep an eye out for me and that alcohol helps you sleep really well. Although the first taste of a hangover was horrible, dry mouth, banging head and nausea that leads to sod all but strong desire for God to take you quickly and painlessly.

After that summer went to college to study basic I.T., more for the fact that I really couldn’t be assed to go into the workforce yet. The first few months of college were standard, go to lessons, chill in the canteen and try to beat everyone else’s score on Street Fighter II. Sometimes we would go out for lunch and smoke Hashish in the piss smelling multi storey car park opposite the college. After a few months of this regular routine was given a choice by my Lecturer, sort it out or piss off basically. So knuckled down and finished the course. But i met a few new people that year that I would then chill with for the next few years. Once college was finished for me went to work in the Littlewoods in the high street of town, it was a boring job, putting clothes out and making sure that customers got what they wanted, I hated the job but I taught me a lot about customer service, something I am still great at today. Now when I say good customer service I mean in a work environment, outside of a work environment I am a hyper critical wanker who more often than not will say it as I see it not really worrying about the repercussions. Unless it a woman I fancy then I put them on a pedestal and therefore in my mind make them special, harder to pull and out of my league when there is no need, but it’s ingrained now, and I find it bloody hard to change that. Prime example was Princess Buttaluv (not her real name). Anyway I digress, I was working at Littlewoods and hating it. I was spending time with Lee T and we were into Happy Mondays and that whole sound that was around at that time. Baggy tracksuit bottoms, or Aladdin pants as were called them, Global Hyper Colour T-shirts and wallabies shoes. We were lucky in the sense that we were there when the rave movement started. We used to go to the local music shop, a nice little independent store to buy tunes and see what was new. One day we were there and we saw a flyer for a rave, now this was new and exciting to us. It was called Labyrinth and it had a unicorn on the front of the flyer with a light blue background. I don’t even remember most of the acts, except for DJ Hype, Nicky Blackmarket and Carl Cox. Now at the time these names really didn’t mean a lot to me, but the thought of going to a rave with my friends was too good a chance to miss. The build up was exciting picking out what clothes to wear, working out if we would need a coat etc, we were young remember 16. We arranged to go with about 10 other people. We all met in the park and set off, the rave was close to us about 10 miles by road or about 5 through fields, being young and cheap we went through the fields, drinking as we went having banter. You could hear the music about a mile from the event, as we got closer we could see the lights, of the fairground they had erected. You could see people in the distance being herded through the barriers, tickets being checked. I remember feeling anxiety that we wouldn’t get in, the security would turn us away, all these thoughts went through my mind. Checking my pockets every 30 seconds for my ticket and poorly made fake I.D. I had no reason to panic because back then they didn’t give a rats ass about who was old enough and what they were carrying, they wanted money and people to have a good time. So we got in and it was amazing, it was in a marquee with a raised stage at the front and a massive screen above it. We were in there for about an hour drinking and dancing and working up a sweat when someone offered out the pills. Now we all took one, slightly reddish, an original love heart (which in today’s climate people would ripped your hand off for). After about another hour I could see it was affecting my friends, they were being very tactile and you could see the bottom jaw wobbling. But I wasn’t feeling anything, I was waiting for a change in mood, feeling anything but I didn’t feel anything. Regardless I lasted the entire night, highlights being, the first time I ever heard the Jungle Anthem Chopper remix (“ladies and gentlemen can I have you attention please…). And watching Carl Cox mix on four decks, to this day never had a feeling like it. We left just after watching the sunrise and made our way home, everyone was battered, walking at a slow pace finishing off any liquids that were left. I got home at 9am and as I walked through the door my Mum was in the garden, she immediately came in and made me a cup of tea and advised me to shower and go to bed. She wasn’t angry as she knew it was a part of growing up, experiencing these events. This would become a habit of hers over the years, to the point that one time after a rave she walked into a living room with 6 guys and simply said “Nice speed was it lads? Cup of tea?). Always love her for that. This was the start of my raving career/experience and it went on for at least 6 years. The raving was the best bit about the next 6 years because not a lot else was. If it wasn’t for Eddie Ig and James Smith those years would have been hell and I thank both of them for being there. But that as they that is for the next installment.