Thunder

At Greys Mallory there was a horse. It was a right stubborn little bastard... when I say little his back was about my height off the floor, which is about 5' 6"/5' 7" at this time (I'm 15). I'm good with horses, always have been for some reason as they are good for me. I've always had a bit of an affinity with them and with this horse in particular, Thunder, we understood each other brilliantly.

Thunder would stand in his paddock (a field... don't know why a field with a horse in is a paddock :/ ) which was down beyond the rally track and next door to the orchard for days on end without even moving. He was old, he was tired and he just couldn't be arsed. Our eccentric and dangerously paedophilic landlord, Mr Robinson or Ronny as we all knew him (go and read 'Cars I won part one' if you want to know more on Ronny, if you haven't already!) tasked me with the job of exercising Thunder after a bet that I couldn't ride him. He'd not let anyone on his back for a good while and the only exercise he got was being dragged around his little paddock. If nobody bothered dragging him around he just stood still and ate the grass within reach without moving his feet at all.

The first time I got on him he tried bucking me, tried throwing me into a fence, tried running me into a tree with low branches, tried pretty much every evasion tactic a smart horse can try. And he was good but I knew it was coming. I didn't relax riding him for a long time, in fact I never fully trusted him as he got great pleasure from dismounting a rider. You could actually see the 'gotcha mate' in his eyes when he got his way. One minute calming trotting along and then a sudden acceleration and halt, he had moves that horse but I was young and fit and dumbly confident.

It was enough to take him around the rally path a couple of times, enough for an old horse that just wasn't used to exercise. After he'd been out and loosened up he was even known to walk around his paddock all by himself but after a while he'd settle back in his spot and return to the morbid routine of having absolutely no positive effect on his own life. I could never get it, never understand.

Thunder loved me, loved our time, after a while i grew in confidence and took him out over the big fields for a proper run and even had him sweating a few times and he'd forget. He'd forget  his misery, he'd forget that he hated life, that he would literally kill himself of starvation for the sake of taking a single step in any direction and we'd run, we'd stroll and we'd relax in each others company, though always aware he'd chuck me off at any given opportunity!

I never had enough time for Thunder, I look back now and think I should of gone down the paddock more, should of stood at the gate with his reigns in my hand and seen the reluctant anticipation in his eyes. It's freedom riding a horse, it's even better than driving a car because you have a companion and you're both free, especially with Thunder as I'd let him choose the route within reason, if it was avoiding low branches! He was a friend though, and that shared time was great for both of us. Without me he was just a lonely horse in a field that everyone was too scared to ride, with me we were a pair of explorers, running rampage and loving every second.

The thing is, that's kinda where I am. I'm Thunder. It occurred to me earlier today when I was lying in bed contemplating Cade's upcoming birthday, Christmas, work, lack of money, living here in a house that really isn't good enough for the kids, all the weight on my shoulders and no real progress seemingly being made. I'm him, stood still in my paddock and refusing to move out of stubbornness.

Thunder had loads of people that would come and try and help, drag him around that field or attempt to ride him but he'd just kinda shrug and dig his heals in. He had me, though not for long enough I guess but even when I was there fighting with him and obviously right to be doing what I was, literally making him move, it was against his will...

I miss Thunder, I think I am Thunder...

Pubs again Roy, that won't end well....

I've got a can of beer, I've got 8 poker games running on the laptop in front of me. I've got the 2 youngest in bed, school in the morning. I'm warm, I'm fed, I've got literally the most beautiful wife in the world sitting on the sofa next to me sewing an embroidery thingy... Happiness right? well you'd think so but this is me, and what do I do best? Yup, fuck shit up....

It does sound cosy, just looking at that paragraph above I want to punch myself but it wasn't all that. There was no love, no fun, no happiness apart from the time spent playing with the kids and an occasional happy wife day. And it's the fun I miss, it's the every day being different, the challenge of managing more than just getting out of bed and driving a car. My mind is in neutral, there's no challenges, no tests, just mundane shite, day after day so I'm plotting. Plotting a pub, another pub, coz I know they're fun, and she's already told me: "It won't end well"...

Some nights running a pub, it's pure adrenaline, it's pure fun and it's brilliant. When the place is rammed, when everyone is rocking, when all your staff are smiling and all your customers are smiling. When no one is waiting but you couldn't get more in the door if you tried. That's a buzz. It's one I missed and wanted to get back into. I do have an addictive nature, and it has caused me grief down the years. Not to extremes I don't think as I tend to think things through and reign myself in whenever I go overboard but I have definitely gone overboard a few too many times!

   

The first time it caught me was as a teenager smoking dope (as we used to call it in the days before weed was the thing). I had always flirted with smoking and used to enjoy the thoughtful and meditative qualities more than the social laughing at inane bollocks side of it. But I became a virtually reclusive smoker, quite often sitting in the woods (Greys Mallory days for those of you time lining!) by myself shunning any form of sociable contact at all. I then stopped enjoying the thoughtfulness and got paranoid, really paranoid. Eventually I worked out that i was spending about half my wages to sit alone in a wood in a right miserable state... seems a simple thing but at 17 i quit smoking dope and it was massive for me. I'm not saying I haven't had the odd blast at a party but for me it was gone, written off in Roy logic and a little marker in the sand that I was in control of  me, not any substance. 

So we're at a crossroads. she's not happy, definitely doesn't want to do pubs again but isn't happy anyway. She needs direction but she wants to go home. We went home, her home... in 2009 and it was hell. Not for her, she had a great year, was so happy, but for me and the kids it was hell. I'm not doing that to them again and if my choices now break us then so be it, it's going to hurt but i can't sit here bored shitless living without love anymore. It's a gamble, probably one of the biggest I've made but  sometimes you have to force things, you have to have a go and say you tried or else what are we here for? I've tried and failed 100 times but it won't stop me trying because not only do you learn along the way, you have an adventure. Life without adventure sucks.

I've put a business plan together, it involves gutting a closed down pub in town, it involves a 50k investment from the brewery and it involves signing up for another tenancy. That didn't end well last time... I've had meetings with the brewery, the area manager guy is a pretentious little prick but the big boss is sound and understands pubs, and more importantly understands Newton Abbot, so as long as he calls the shots it is all set. It looks good on paper, even got it themed: live music and great food. Can't go wrong can it?!!

The first spanner comes into the works just days after I hand my notice in with the taxi guy that i do my school run for. My pub is not ready, I need to go and take a look apparently, it could be another 3-6 months. It's easy enough for me to sort out and carry on for another 6 months in the cab but i want to force the brewery's hand, it was the date that they gave me after all. I know they have other empty pubs in town, I've looked around most of them! So I figure I force the issue and it works, and we're offered a 3 month stint at The Vestry in the centre of town while the refurbishments get finished at my pub, currently the old Market House and transforming day by day into my Market Gate.

The choice is made, the dice is rolling and life is an adventure once more with heroes and villains and good times and bad. Whatever the outcome at least I'm not sat on my arse getting old and miserable. I'd say wish me luck but we all know the outcome :)

A day of electioneering

"The BBC are here Roy"
"Ok, i'll be down now"

It's the news team, putting together a piece that I initiated by complaining about a politician living in France and representing my town, now Newton Abbot in sunny Devon. They love the fact that i'm a pub landlord (again), adds a bit of 'localness' and 'grit' to the story apparently. They got here early and i'm hungover but not badly, just a couple of beers after work last night which has kinda become the norm with no one upstairs to go and snuggle up with, an empty bed is so unappealing. Could of done with a coffee and a fag though before they got here.

They set up the cameras seating me and the reporter at the bar. This is so surreal, I agreed to be the Labour Candidate for the general election about 2 years ago. "If you're stuck" i said, "If there's no one else"... I'd conducted the initial interview from a hotel in Turkey, I was taking a family holiday with the vague and hopeful notion of helping to salvage a now loveless marriage. Well loveless from one party and as we all know, it takes two to tango. The phone call cost me 50 quid and i'd had a couple of pints with dinner. I came across as passionate and determined apparently... they could of told my wife!!

For a Freer future!

"can we get a few shots of you pouring a pint"?
"Yeah sure" Last thing I want to smell just now, I need that coffee...

Well there was someone else, he came down from Manchester to stand against me in the selection process. He knew way more than me about policy, about representing, about the whole shabbang really but i am local, and I am known, and sometimes liked! We had to go outside after our debate, he told me i was unlucky and should stay involved to help him during the election. The votes were counted, he got 4 votes! The room was packed with about 40 people. He couldn't look at me for a few minutes but eventually got his composure back and congratulated me before trundling back up to Manchester. And there it was, me standing for Parliament, one more tick off the bucket list.

The news crew (all 2 of them) are the only people in the place apart from my chef and barman, and they are trying to get some 'traditional atmosphere' ... not so easy to do in an emty building. it's a beautiful pub, I pretty much designed it from the shell of the old place and it really is pretty cool if I say so myself.

the bar, not the best pic but gives you an idea

"Can we do it again but be a bit more jovial" ...

I don't feel very jovial, the pub is suffering to be fair. it's needs two of you to run a pub and there's only me. Sioned has come to live with me and she helps with the kids, and it's great to have her around. I am getting to know her again after years of only holiday visits and she is such a beautiful, honest, kind and wonderful daughter and the perfect foil for my brashness with the kids. But the pub itself now requires a permanent staff member during opening hours and the cost of that is hitting me hard. With this election looming it's sometimes needing 2 staff on, like today for example.

"I'm flabbergasted" ... that's my only memorable response that makes the news, i was too mumbly, too nervous, spoke too quickly and lacked clarity. It's not easy being interviewed for tv, having the lights shining on you, having a million worries on your mind and having to respond to something with outrage spontaneously when you've already vented on the issue and made your point to 20 other people.

The crew wrap up, have a coffee and I smile and portray the successful businessman/politician that I apparently am.
"Causing ripples, that's what it's all about... and that's what you're doing, good luck Roy"
Good luck? ... mmm, been a while but i am not beat, I have a few plans for the pub, they'll ultimately fail but I don't know this today.

I get calls and congratulations for making the news. For making the news happen on this particular day and my brief glimpse into a proper politicians world gives me fresh impetus to continue my obviously doomed election campaign. It's not that i did badly, I was pretty impressed with getting 1400 more votes than the last candidate managed. It's just that we were 10000 behind to start with and never stood a chance of actually winning. Not that that ever stopped me from having a go!