Driving for a living isn’t exactly fulfilling my supposed potential but it’s always been my fallback, my safety zone, my rebuild and recharge mode. Driving around Newton Abbot I know every pot hole, every crack in the roads and every speed bump. I know the sequence of all the lights and I know how long they take to change depending on the time of day. Pot holes though, in particular are the best bits of knowledge. I know where the damage could be done to my car if I drive it over them the wrong way so I adjust and reposition myself in the road for as smooth a journey as possible!
Common sense Roy, I hear you say. And it is! If only life were this simple, if we just learned where the pot holes were and avoided them but we don’t... well I don’t! Life is so easily smooth, I know exactly the things that hurt me, the things that set me back. This knowledge just isn’t enough as even though I’m on a pretty good run at the moment, it must be a month since I’ve texted the wrong person or cocked anything up which is good for me, I know I’ll hit a pot hole soon. I’ll just drive head on into it and take the pain, that’s just the way I am.
There’s a sneaky little pot hole, and if you’ve ever come by the back lanes from Kingskerswell to Newton you’ll know him! He’s the one just over the little bridge in the back lane and he catches me out time and again. I know he’s there, lurking away, but it seems that no matter on your road position or preparation he is just unavoidable! Crunch, every single time...
Pot holes are life! It just seems to me that even knowing my weaknesses I still find it impossible to stop driving into them. To stop making mistakes in my road positioning. When does your knowledge start to dictate your actions, because surely it should? Or will my heart always lead me into chaos? And those ones that you know about but can’t avoid... what do we do about them? Nothing is easy...
It’s when you head to new destinations or down new roads that you don’t mind the bumps, the odd pot hole, as long as it doesn’t do any real damage. I wouldn’t mind a new destination, a new journey but for now I’ll just keep my driving safe and sensible and see what develops.
Stupid pot holes, you’d think you could fix them. I’m driving okay at the moment to be fair, I know where they are and I’m going around them, or letting them go under and between the wheels of progress. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta go, time for work and time to take steady course around the little buggers :)
Friday 3 November 2017
Wednesday 18 October 2017
What do I miss...
It’s normal to miss things, to miss people, to miss time shared and a life together. It’s kinda expected and dealing with it is mostly a daily thing. A certain song will play, that’s the usual for me, or you’ll walk past a place with a shared memory, you’ll look through a crowd and see the back of her, but it’s not her, just someone similar. That rush of memory, that lyric in the song that you sang together, looking into each other’s eyes or laughing or crying. It’s as bad now as it ever was, I guess because I haven’t really moved on, haven’t filled the void but I really don’t want to anymore. Yeah I get lonely, yeah I am a mad flirt with a drink in me but I think I’m done on permanent partners, it’s just pain waiting to happen. And who could possibly love my kids enough to replace a mother, no one is easier than a wrong one.
Drunk texts are terrible when you get a sudden onrush of this and I woke up the other day and looked at my phone to find i’d been sending messages into the abyss once more. There are occasional replies to my continued lapses. I send something soppy and it gets discouraged, I send something angry and it gets a sober ‘wtf’, I sometimes have to send an update on the kids and these do get a response but in reality it’s pointless. It’s just the memory playing tricks on me, just a missing that won’t stop.
Anyway, I asked... as you do! ‘Do you not miss me at all’? ... I know right, talk about opening your legs up for the kick! I did get a vague response as she tried not to be hurtful. Not easy when you’re already struggling with the language and your ex if 3 years ago is still fucking texting you, yeah, I see it from her side. But my next message impressed me so I thought I’d put it here, it’s a poem, ish, and it’s what I miss:
What do I miss
I miss the smell of your hair! Your hair, everywhere, In the shower, in the bed, on my clothes, in my face, the way it rests on your face...
I miss your face, that look as you try to translate, that smile, slightly wonky, so cute and so great. Every crease, every line on your forehead, your eyes so dark and aware, that bright sparkle when adventures we shared and kisses we dared.
Your lips....
I miss your lips, your tender kisses, your voice, the way that your smile can light up any room, your laugh and your cry and holding your hand...
I miss your hands, the reassurance of just a touch, the perfect cared for nails and watching you brush baby’s hair. Your hands that do so much, care so much for me and our pair, mostly though just holding your hand in mine, even just for a second of time...
I miss your time, our time, all the times that we shared, making memories, sitting together, time next to you was divine.
That’s what I miss x
Yeah, it’s soppy old shit I know. Hopefully the missing will subside, I don’t know how to turn it off but maybe another pint will help... barman!?
Drunk texts are terrible when you get a sudden onrush of this and I woke up the other day and looked at my phone to find i’d been sending messages into the abyss once more. There are occasional replies to my continued lapses. I send something soppy and it gets discouraged, I send something angry and it gets a sober ‘wtf’, I sometimes have to send an update on the kids and these do get a response but in reality it’s pointless. It’s just the memory playing tricks on me, just a missing that won’t stop.
Anyway, I asked... as you do! ‘Do you not miss me at all’? ... I know right, talk about opening your legs up for the kick! I did get a vague response as she tried not to be hurtful. Not easy when you’re already struggling with the language and your ex if 3 years ago is still fucking texting you, yeah, I see it from her side. But my next message impressed me so I thought I’d put it here, it’s a poem, ish, and it’s what I miss:
What do I miss
I miss the smell of your hair! Your hair, everywhere, In the shower, in the bed, on my clothes, in my face, the way it rests on your face...
I miss your face, that look as you try to translate, that smile, slightly wonky, so cute and so great. Every crease, every line on your forehead, your eyes so dark and aware, that bright sparkle when adventures we shared and kisses we dared.
Your lips....
I miss your lips, your tender kisses, your voice, the way that your smile can light up any room, your laugh and your cry and holding your hand...
I miss your hands, the reassurance of just a touch, the perfect cared for nails and watching you brush baby’s hair. Your hands that do so much, care so much for me and our pair, mostly though just holding your hand in mine, even just for a second of time...
I miss your time, our time, all the times that we shared, making memories, sitting together, time next to you was divine.
That’s what I miss x
Yeah, it’s soppy old shit I know. Hopefully the missing will subside, I don’t know how to turn it off but maybe another pint will help... barman!?
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