There is always hope. Always.

In your most dark and seemingly desperate moments, there’s always hope. Despite the facts and the biology that surround certain realities, hope is something that we have, a uniqueness of humanity that can’t be quashed. I wonder why we live in hope of the impossible at times.

It’s because without hope there’s always darkness. And without darkness hope wouldn’t exist. They’re intrinsically linked to each other like Sunlight and Shadow, one simply feeds the other and the other defines one.

So, when you can see nothing but the bleak, stark clouds, there’s always a ray of light, a silver lining I guess. That’s hope, it often relies on the unknown and the improbable. I, for one, fall back on hope as my safety net more than I’d like too. When the darkness descends, be it the cancer spectre, the financial frighteners, or global injustice, there’s always the improbable beam just keeping my head from imploding.

Being told I’d be lucky to see my 30^th birthday, when I was 29, would have totally broken my head, and consequentially, my whole being if I’d not clung onto the hope that I’d be defying the odds and believed the hype that hope offered my tiny, frightened little brain.

When you're facing the darkness, look for the light because there is always hope. Always. 

One Love

Jez

x

Hola Amigos

And the beat goes on. Another 1000 mile week. Another logistical rearrangement. More Cancer chat than I care to remember. A limp that John Wayne would be proud of and long-distance phone calls that inevitably create frustration.

Sounds pretty rotten hey? It’s actually alright, good things are happening and people are showing commitment, enthusiasm and even blind faith. This little business is threatening to blossom into something full of love and groove. This family affair could be just the vibe we need to fulfil our crazy dream.

I had a wonderful moment yesterday, 2 beautiful people put a huge amount of faith in me. Bestowed on me an honour that they’ll only ever do once. To choose me has made me feel so proud, so aware of myself and what must have led them to this decision that I’m right in the groove about life.  In unequal measure, it’s apparent that I gain trust and faith on one hand and (on the smaller, Beadle-eqsue) hand, mistrust and a lack of belief. It still really bothers me that people can’t get their head around me, or completely misjudge my motivations. I can count on one hand those who hold me in such disregard and I’ve lost count of those who appear (on the surface at least) to dig my flow. It’s odd then that it’s the tiny minority of non-Jezists that I sometimes find myself concerned over, rather than my wonderful support network and the love and magic they bring into my life.

Mostly not, mostly I just forget the chastisers and enjoy the believers.  Like now I guess, no time for melancholy, only for love, because there’s a lot of love, a lot of faith and a lot of miles to cover.

The train is providing the only safe working haven I have. No distractions, no 3G signal most of the time (thanks Vodafone for being so pants) and hours of writing and prepping and listening to some incredible music that I’d otherwise be missing for months on end. Train travel is becoming something I’m enjoying. Now there’s something I never thought I’d say.

I’m gonna maintain this ‘Be Nice’ lifestyle. I’m gonna fulfil the philosophy. I’m gonna see where this trip takes me and mine….

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” 
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

One Love

Jez

x

Hellooooo,

Well, that was emotional! Almost had a weep on the starting line. Had a bizarre emotional breakdown about halfway around after reading a dedication to ‘Mia’ on someone’s back and today the hangover is making me pretty darn sketchy too. But, with a name like O’Neill, a couple of jars of the black stuff was always gonna be on the agenda and I guess I earned it.

One thing that walking 5 miles has taught me is that I should have pushed myself harder before because I did it in a really good time and the penance hasn’t been nearly as bad as I’d feared. I’ve had a recurring issue with my heel/Achilles this year. I think it’s related to the operation, because I never had it until I started trying to walking reasonable distances. I guess my Achilles hell is my Achilles heel….

Another thing I learned is that of the 4500 walkers yesterday, I bet over 4000 of them had lost someone to cancer, or were walking because a loved one was currently receiving treatment. RM ask walkers to put the reason for walking on their backs, which I did. Mine was a thankful message, I’ve added a picture to the gallery so you can see it. Nearly all the others were tributes or in memory messages. I learned just how lucky I’ve been to still be here almost 10 years on. I may have a sore foot and a hollow voice, but I have so much to be thankful for. It really hit home just how important it is to live and celebrate life.

I carved up the field too. I was like Lewis Hamilton, weaving in and out of the pushchairs and families. At about 2 miles my big little toe started to give me some big potatoes, so I decided the best tactic would be to tear it up as fast as possible rather than prolong the agony. I did the 5 miles in about 1h 15m, which is pretty good going all things considered. I almost went down a couple of times when my totally inappropriate footwear got stuck in the mud and got left behind. Danger averted, and pavement established once more, its was a pretty direct stomp to the finish line/bar,

My massive thanks to all of those of you who support me. You all made a difference and I’m totally in awe. Those of you who didn’t manage to help, you’re amazing too, you can’t always give your love in the form of money,  times are austere.

This week, I’m right up for it. Good job, I’m already one meeting down and have another 4 to go before returning to Bristol on Thursday evening just in time for our first antenatal class. I have no idea what to expect, but I may as well embrace it because in 9 weeks it’s very likely those 2 boys are going to need me tooled up with all the knowledge possible.

Live everyday as if it’s your last and dream that you’ll live forever....

One Love

Jez

x

Just thought I'd update you on't weather forecast for tomorrow....

Rain. 3ºC. Rain. Espadrilles. Rain. Big Little Toe. 

www.justgiving.com.bigdaddyjezza

'BIGD69 £5' to 70070

40 of you have already been extremely generous. £2, or a fiver would make a big difference. Never underestimate the power of small positive actions when offered as an act of love. TOGETHER, we're all better....

See you at the finish line brothers and sisters...

One Love

Jez

x

1 day to go! dig deep you beautiful people. www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza or text 'BIG69 £10' to 70070 and it'll drop a tenner in my fund. I love you...

Dear Johns

Well, March is really becoming a remarkable month. After a somewhat lame February, things are firmly back on track, positive motions are in effect in this universal motion of groove. So, only 1 more sleep and we're off to London at 8am to tackle the less intimidating, but still slightly daunting, 5 mile hike from the Kings playing fields, (no, i have no idea where that is) to Sutton. I'm hoping it doesn't rain so my canvass foot attire doesn't absorb every drop. 

It's fairly significant to be hitting these pavements tomorrow. No doubt the 5 mile hike will be populated with people with much more to complain about than my and my big little toe. I'm expecting to feel pretty emotional by the time I cross the finish line. I'm fully intent on meeting people, talking about their motivations for making the walk, whether in memory or in gratitude or in simple recognition of the great work RM do. 

I could, of course, get dressed up in something ridiculous. But I do that ever day, so maybe I should just tone it down a little and let other people share the limelight for once. Nah, this is the Jezza show, standard! I'll try to get a couple of pictures done of me sprinting over the finish line, as its definitely a race if I win...

Well, half way through March and if it continues like this it'll be a triumph. The reality of not having to go back into hospital before the babies come is one I'm very happy about. the fact I am healing myself kinda fits with my state of mind. I've been healing myself for a few weeks really, excising the demons, establishing a sense of the present and letting go of the past few months and it’s fierce mental & physical attack.

Freedom is within sight. Love is very much in the air. Positive change is an unstoppable force. 5 miles is a walk in the park…..

One Love

Jez

x

Strange happening in the hospital today….

So, hopefully you’ve all kinda grasped what the issue is with my ‘Holy Flap’. In essence, I’ve got a hole in my new palette and it’s leaving me compromised with my talking, swallowing and whatever else I can use it for to hide behind.

This hole was created as a breakdown in the stitching from my operation back in October (and the 2^nd one in November). The hole was something like an inch long (25mm to you metric heads reading from the Eurozone). Today, Mr. K estimated it was now only about half and inch long (10-15mm). Rather bizarrely, my human biology is creating it’s own solution to the problem. The tissue is starting to knit together and seal the hole. I find this pretty incredible considering I’ve the 2 parts of tissue are from completely different parts of my body. If I’d poked a big hole in my palette and it’d started to seal itself it’d be understandable, but 2 completely separate pieces of tissue? It’s basically the same as you get in Boston, or Swindon when people grow webbed feet. The tissue is closing my gape, but fortunately, unlike Boston and Swindon, I’ve not sprouted a 6^th finger….

So, with then rather exiting news, the counter punch is that I’ve been referred to a Foot & Ankle surgeon about my clubbed trotter. One look at the rogue big little toe was enough to condemn me to the potential of further surgery. Tell you what though, minor foot surgery beats major head surgery every day of every week. Of course, Mr. K hasn’t seen this happen in something like 200 of these fibula donor operations, but he hadn’t met me before had he? Standard Jezza

I have been told not to attempt the 13 miles on Sunday though. They said 5 miles is more than I should be doing right now and that I should see if I can get on the shorter route (5 miles) because the full circuit will leave me broken. They also laughed at the thought of me walking in the snow in espadrilles.

I’m pretty chilled about it all. Inner peace has that effect I guess. I’m on the train now and it’s actually running on time too, so I should make my evening meeting when I get back to the big bad city before dusting off the old Whistle & Flute for a meeting in Falkirk tomorrow. Yep, Taxi, Aeroplane, Hire Car, Meeting, Hire Car, Aeroplane, Taxi and home in time for tea. Not a bad 12 hours at the grindstone methinks. See you Jimmy…

One Love

Jez

x

Roll up, roll up. Only 5 days until I hit the streets for Royal Marsden. Drop a penny in the pot and the Universe will thank you with love. X www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza

Well Hello, be warned, this might be a long one. I’m feeling kinda wistful and wise….

Something inside is changing in me. The people who usually annoy me are entertaining me, I’m learning to love them for who they are, who they’ve become. The first train breaking down and then the next one sitting here somewhere just outside London for an hour, making me approximately 3 hours late so far, isn’t bothering me in the slightest.

I’ve got some inner peace back. I’ve not had this calm for a long long time. I guess since the summer last year at the Stone Roses seminal homecoming was the last time I felt this at one with myself. That was a long time, and a lot of very emotional days ago, 254 to be precise. It’s odd, because I’m really busy, not really getting enough sleep, darting all over the country just to break bread and I’ve got another operation due and those boys of mine ever more real. All this, and I don’t feel the burn, today at least, even with an important meeting at hospital tomorrow looming.

It’s got me wondering why this sense of Zen has befallen my ever-fattening frame. I think it’s because I’ve started really living my own philosophies. ‘Be Nice’ is a real joy to live with. Today, for instance, there was a kiddie in obvious distress across from me on the broken train. His iPhone was dead and he was cursing it. So, I offered to let him charge it in my MacBook whilst I cracked on with some work. He was so grateful, turns out he was trying to get home to Walsall because a close relative had died today and because the train had broken down he wasn’t going to make it. He needed to call his mum to get a lift from somewhere. ‘Be Nice’ totally saved his bacon and it pushed one more positive motion into the Universe. No bother if you just take stock of your surroundings.

I also have an immense sense of pride, I think it’s pride. I look at Fi and think about us as a family and I get all giddy like a teenager with a crush. I’m finally ready to be the daddy, 39 years on and the boy got all grown up and shit.

I want to teach these boys to be happy. Not to be rich, be emotionally wealthy. They need to understand value, not price. I figure that happiness, positivity and kindness are perpetual motions. You push them out into the universe and then the universe pushes them back to you. Radiating and harbouring poor ethics, selfish motives and greed pulsate around the Universe and end up forcing you into the darkness you purvey. My boys won’t be fed by darkness, they’ll live for the light….

“Peace: To me, it doesn’t mean to be in a place where it’s quiet, where there’s no angst or hard work. It means to be in the midst of  everything you’ll find in your life, but with your inner peace glowing beautifully.” - Jezism

One Love

Jez

x

This is getting a little serious...

This is the 2nd time I've written this blog entry, I just wiped the whole lot. Interesting though, it hasn't made me swell up with frustration, or anger, I'm just cracking on again. Happy days...

6 sleeps until I go and wander through the mean streets of London. One big little toe. 2 Espidrilles. 60 Stitches and 40 staples in my leg. Leg in my head. Check the photos. These guys mutilated me and now I'm trying to crack the £500 barrier before Sunday. If you haven't already, would you PLEASE pop a few quid in the fund for me. text 70070 'BIGD69 £5' to give £5 through your phone bill, or hit this link to make a pledge as small as you like, just a tickle, a choccy bars worth would be wonderful. 

www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza

Really appreciate it. In all honesty, I'm bricking it a little. I've not managed a walk of more than a mile since October. Now, with less than a week to go I'm facing the grim reality that my all terrain espidrilles may not be man enough for the task and the only other option is Haviaina flip-flops. Everything else leaves me doubled up in pain after about 15 mins. hmmmm...

It's fine I suppose. A couple of hours pain for £500 gain for the charity is pretty fair game. It's what it's all about, give to get, get to give. I'll need them again in a few weeks, maybe sooner if Sunday cripples me. I'm going to see Mr. K on Wednesday, so hopefully he'll give me the green light for 13 miles on Sunday and a date for the next operation that fits nicely around the baby dates. This is going to be a finely oiled piece of work if I'm to get fixed, get fit and get ready for the night feeds in the space of 2 weeks. Everything is always extreme, everything. 

What is it with me and 'normal'? I don't seen capable of rolling in a regular way like everyone else. Would you have me any other way though? That's the question. 'Absolutely not' is the resounding chorus in response. Extreme Jezza is the only Jezza. 

One Love

JAFARAF

x

Evening Congregation, 

I've been thinking about what to write tonight. With so little perceived time to just drop these snippets of insight into my complicated mind, I'm finding the writing more and more difficult. Previously, I've free flowed words as they fall into my typing fingers, but I'm now just a little less lucid. When I was leading up to the operation, in hospital, feeling totally broken by everything, it was easier to spend more time thinking about me, where I should be focussing, my thoughts on how to make sure I continue to maintain some form of integrity and emotional stability. Now I'm totally flat out, my head is so full of whatever actions and tasks and journeys I'm imminently about to undertake that pushing it all aside to relax into this writing is more tricky. 

That said, I've had some thoughts on me and my legacy this week. For many years I've said that I'd rather never be forgotten by people. I like to provoke an opinion, as I'm sure you're aware. I really enjoy meeting new people and forging new alliances, but it doesn't always pan out that way. I'm certainly not everyone's cup of tea, and that's the way it is when you want to push boundaries. I guess most people are reasonably cool with me, I certainly build a loyal team. I have a group of friends that I know believe in me. I'd rather keep exploring than work within my comfort zones. No-one ever made strides by standing still. More fool to he who expects the same or even more from doing the same thing time and time again. 

Whatever your opinion, you may not remember the words I used, but you'll remember the way I made you feel. And that's just fine with me.

One Love

Jez

x

Happy Saturday me lovers...

Wowzers, what a week! I feel like a Tasmanian Devil. Spinning around and around, zooming from pillar to post in a hectic blur. It's not slowing down either, next week is just as mad. I'm on the train to London at 5am Monday morning, not back until late Weds after a few appointments including one at Royal Marsden, then flying to Edinburgh on Thursday at 7am, back late at night and then i need to be at the office by 9am Friday. Saturday is gonna be LAZY. Sunday I'm making an attempt at 13 miles from Chelsea to Sutton for Royal Marsden. I'm quite looking forward to busting a groove to be honest!

Until then, I'm taking it easy, enjoying a few social drinks with the in-laws and Fi's first Mothers day tomorrow (kinda). It's these moments in time, the moments I get to stop and pinch myself, that I realise just how far I've come since starting to write this blog nearly 6 months ago. Those days leading up to the operation were frightening. I'd just quit my job, just found out Fi was pregnant and was heading into 14 hours of surgery that was going to change my life permanently for the better. I had a plan, everything was cool, then some of the plan fell to pieces, then some more did. Then the operation became something much much more challenging and messed up than anyone expected. Then we found out it was twins, then then then.... 

Now, with another operation and 2 babies on the horizon I'm trying to cram loads of stuff into a short period of time in the knowledge that I'll be out of action again for a couple of months. Only this time, I'm in control of my own reality. This time I've learned that I am the only one who should be controlling my direction. 

There's one reality that I've had to accept. In the bio on the welcome page of this website I mention I want my Hollywood smile back in time for my 10 year anniversary on 10th April. When I decided to crack on with this whole life changing journey, I had this date in my head as a target for everything to be put to bed and locked down. My new teeth, my new head, my new business, my new wife, my new babies. Reality is that this isn't even going to be close to happening. Shame, it was all looking so beautiful for a while.

Thing is, this past 6 months have been the most brutal of my life. Properly hard-core, more so on my emotional being than my physical. Despite the scars you can see, it's my head that's taken the brunt of the flak. All told though, I'm stronger now than ever. Because a man isn't measured by the number of times he falls. He's measured by the number of times he gets up. And I'm up and I’m fighting and I’m stronger than one man, because you all bring me more strength than any one man could possibly muster on his own. Thankyou…

"This time baby, I'll be bulletproof...."

One Love

Jez

x

Hi all,

PLEASE donate to my page. I'm a cripple and I'm walking 13 miles for Royal Marsden Hospital in less than 2 weeks! Please...x

www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza

It’s Wednesday night already! This week has flown by so far. I’ve got all sorts of things keeping me occupied so the mirage of superfast time is upon me.

I’ve really dipped out of the fundraising mind-set and into the commercial world this week. Either I’ve been out too long or I now see people in a different light. The behaviours of certain associates have been interesting to say the least. It’s cool though because I’m in a place where I’ve got the measure of cheap tactics and bullyboy closing techniques. The way I look at people who have nothing but selfish gain in their hearts is that they’ve made themselves extremely vulnerable to me, because they’ve played their hand, placed their bet, and shown me their cards. It’s in that moment that I understand the fiend, the selfish clown. I understand him well enough to defeat him should I choose. It’s this moment that I then try to love him, because it’s impossible to really understand him, his motivations, his behaviour and not really have some love for the way he loves himself. With understanding and love do you know where he is? He’s right there, in the palm of my hand, nibbling at the poisonous golden nugget and loving himself.

So, it’s interesting flirting with real life again after being spoilt for so many years. Enjoyable, but not sustainable. I guess once you’ve tasted the juicy fruit of fundraising and you’ve realised that the world doesn’t revolve around your own small pivot, it’s tough to leave the environment you’ve come to love. I know that that I’ll be a fundraiser for many many years to come, this is a temporary reminder of my core values and a very valuable lesson in how to recognise best practice.

There will be gin tonight. Of that I have no doubt. Parking up in London never fails to feed me it’s own poison. Tomorrow should be tidy though, providing not to much poison is consumed tonight of course…

One thing is for sure, my leg is decidedly dodgy. It’s aching, it’s swollen and it’s hot. I’m back at Royal Marsden on Wednesday, so they’ll let me know it’s gout when I see them, until then I’d better crack on with the poison, the love and the understanding.

One Love

Jez

X

Hiya Ducky Luv..

Blimey, I'm a busy boy. I'm still working and it's nearly 11pm. I hit the road at 6.30am this morning. Most peculiar, but I guess being busy must mean March is showing some promise workwise. If it don't kill me it'll surely thrill me 'eh?

Feeling a little spaced out today. I have this issue in that my usual weekend socialising leaves me a little subdued the following week. Not subdued in the scheme of normality, but subdued enough to get a decent night's sleep. So, having been a teetotaller for a couple of weeks I'm now beaming with energy and my head is buzzing with all sorts of ideas and thoughts. All good so far, however... I can't get to sleep because I'm relentlessly popping bubbles of ideas and 'to do' lists in my head. I even took to watching possibly the worst film ever made last night in the assumption it'd put me to sleep. Deviation, starring Danny Dyer and a horrendous script and I managed to watch the whole thing until after 3am. I've decided I quite like Danny Dyer, he's made a fortune and appears to constantly be in work. Who'd have guessed when Human Traffic came out that he'd be the one who'd be the biggest movie star? I know Simm has done alright, but I bet Dyer has been much more in demand. 

I have an overactive energy gland. I've always been the same, since I could walk/run/toddle. People always have, still do and probably will for many years come, tell me that I've got too much energy. I wonder why I appear to need less sleep than anyone else? I had coffee this morning too, more because I thought I'd better have some than the fact I needed it. I ended up all jittery and wired all morning, trying to write a proposal, maintain focus on the job at hand and being thoroughly distracted my Mixcloud and pretty much anything else more interesting that caught my eye. Tomorrow I'm going to di it all again. I'm in a lush hotel and apparently the breakfasts are award winning. So, loads of processed pork, coffee and anything else I can ram down my throat in a flurry of pure gluttony will leave me feeling nuts once more no doubt. 

Us humans are a self-destructive bunch. We know we're poisoning ourselves, but continue to do so, on the promise we'll choose the grapefruit juice and granola tomorrow. I never choose the granola when there's an award winning sausage on offer. But I'm at least 10% gay...

Anyway, I'm off to watch something else. i really don't know how to follow up last nights debacle. Surely I can't find something as self-destructive as Danny Dyer and Processed Pork before the next instalment of my chronicle, or rather, chronic obesity, 18 hours of work and sleep deprivation mania...

I'm smiling still though. I'm kind of enjoying it. Good job with those babies in the post too, maybe I'm built for this fatherhood lark after all! 

One Love

Jez

x

Sunday Sermon…

Good evening disciples. Sunday sermon time. I’m feeling particularly smug right now after a completely booze free and uber  productive weekend. I’m flying (literally) all over these fair isles this week. En route to see my mummy right now, before a very early start and more miles than smiles as the week progresses.

So, where’s the wisdom bomb? It’s everywhere, it’s ticking and popping and threatening to explode imminently. March has started with a march, or, after last nights Ikea meatballs, maybe it’s a canter/gallop etc, I wonder what they put in them to make them taste so lush…

I’ve been hitting a musical vibe for the last few days. Always a good sign that my head is in reasonable shape. I even recorded a Rocksteady set and uploaded it to Mixcloud on Friday night, check it here, very chilled, happy and at times, euphoric tunes, well worth a listen if you’re into that crossover era between Ska, Reggae and Dancehall. Or if you fancy giving something new a twirl…

www.mixcloud.com/BilkoDisco/cool-rocksteady/

So, Cool Rocksteady, full of beans and ready to rattle some cages this week. Meetings, contracts, people, places and lots of new faces. Perfect for a March that’s going to develop into a gallop. I’m a firm believer in the theory that to create our own reality we have to believe in ourselves and our own hype. I’m hyped. March is going to be flat out. I’ve got all sorts on, Bristol is going see me much less than in February because I need to hit the new business trail hard before April when life is set to take a massive swerve back to hospital and home close to Fi in anticipation of our little boys arriving. I reckon I’ve got until Easter to burn a trail before the tide turns and I have to go back into Royal Marsden for the next operation on my mouth. That’ll slow me right up for a few weeks. No talking for a fortnight again, but the result will hopefully be the one I need this time and I’m hoping to be back on my feet before the kiddies drop. It’s a tight schedule and with my usual tendency for the extreme, I’ll probably be on the operating table when Fi goes into labour. I’ll be checking out, still half asleep, making a run to wherever she is and throwing the scrubs on just as the first head appears. Standard!

So, Sunday sermon wisdom; You create your own reality. Don’t behave in reaction to other people’s poor ethics and behaviours. Be the ‘individual’ who shapes the positive steps. Make your reality through self-belief, through your soft currency, your inner peace and your ethics. Money can’t own you, don’t let it. This is your party, your only shot at it, make it count. Only love can set you free, love yourself, love one another and embrace your new found freedom.

One Love

Jez

x

Hola bonita..

I'm writing with the sounds of some Treasure Island Rocksteady grooves singing in my ears. I'm already struggling to maintain any kind of pace, probably hitting 10 words per minute max. It matters not, the vibe in chez Jez is decidedly chilled. 

March is already looking more productive than February. Today has been full of progressive conversations and encounters, so I'm buoyed by the optimism of spring and the ever lengthening daylight hours. I'm slightly concerned however, that my fitness is at an all time low and the 13 mile hike through London in just over 2 weeks is going to break my poor feeble frame. With my physio referal taking 3 weeks to process at the ever tardy Southville Surgery, I'll not get a chance to manipulate my right angled little toe beforehand, thanks for that you gimps. My own distress aside, there's a very serious fundraising attempt in effect and it has seemingly hit a wall. So, this is a gentle, but assertive nudge for all you people who were paid this week (most of you), to please spare a few quid to help justify my sacrifice. All you need to do is hit this link and pledge a couple of gold nuggets and you'll be creating positive change with your small change.  

www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza

Thankyou. I have a sense of wellbeing floating in my soul tonight. Everything's gonna be alright, despite austerity and adversity. Everything's Cool Rocksteady in this house. We got soul, we got toffee apple cake from the bakery and we got love. 

We just need a few quid in the fundraising pot to make the world spin without friction on it's axis. So, go on, give a little. It'll make you feel all warm inside like you just had some toffee apple cake and a cup of Rosie Lea...

One love

Jez

x

www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza Please donate towards a wonderful cause.

Bonsoir 

A rather lush day today. Blinking freezing mind, but good people and great vibes. 

It's great knowing so many talented, emotionally rich people. One fundimental win from doing what I do, and what I've done over the years is the sheer volume of talented individuals I've met and continue to do so. Call centres aren't everyone's cup of tea, but they suit me. I love the buzz and the passion that have been a constant in my life for the past 13 or so years. My network of contacts is so varied and widespread that I rarely get to see most of them as often as I'd like. Having the time now to meet old faces, see them flourishing and make new plans is something to cherish.

Time is something so many of us fail to create enough of. Hiding behind being busy and not making sufficient inroads to be in the company of good people is a very easy thing to do. It's something I do far too much and it's a habit I'd like to break. I know a lot of people who are worse than me at creating time, but I know so many more that will always find a gap to meet and enjoy some face to face for anyone. I want to be one of those people, it's healthy to be part of the big wide world. 

Just an hour or so in the charity environment today with the opportunity to open my creative being has refreshed my focus, reminded me that I have a lot of value in many directions and I don't need to worry too much about my shortcomings, be them short term (like my voice), or long term (like, so many things). The truth is, you gotta get out there, be involved with people, become a more active member of society. This city, Bristol, has som much to offer. It's diversity, it's energy, it's whole vibe is something that continues to grow and strengthen. It's a city very much on it's game.

I'm out in the public eye again tomorrow, networking, learning, looking for opportunities. I'm looking forward to it, again some old faces to catch up with, and some new ones to charm. It's the kind of environment I enjoy. Like minds, people who're keen to absorb, manifest and redeploy best practice. It's been a while mind, so I need to get my chat on, which is something that usually comes so naturally to me. I miss my voice, I miss singing and whistling. I have to adapt though, sitting here avoiding the phone and getting frustrated with my lack of vocal clarity can't help my momentum. February has passed by and I feel a little momentum has been lost. I loved January, it felt like I was waking from a deep sleep and taking the world on again. By comparision, February has been decidedly lacklustre. I've had some great moments, it's presented some potential, it's just not hit the high notes I had expected. March however, is another story. 

March is going to be busy. Interesting. Painful. Succesful. Ultimatley, March is my last full month of rocking my style before I go into hospital again and then the babies arrive (hopefully in that order). Then, chaos rules for anoother 20 odd years, so I need to get my head down and set the foundations for this new career of mine. Success, that's the word of the month....

One Love

Jez

x

Bah humbug. 

Why should I give to 'that lot'? They've been on TV since Geldof went out to Ethiopia in 1986, sitting there all mangy with flies on their eyes. Now it's that Muslamic lot, out there in Iraq and whatever, despite our heroes trying to help them. No gratitude, all they do is bomb us and try to come over here and take our jobs, whilst not speaking the language and they take our women, despite being in them arranged marriages. I mean, what's all that about? I say we close the borders, defend them from the evil threat from 'that lot'. 

And them charities, isn't it about time they started helping people like me? I mean, I've had cancer. I need some effing charity, not 'that lot', I've got no job, loads of kids on the way and I need to buy some cheap beer and 40 Mayfair a day somehow. Effing liberties, on my daytime TV begging for money with them kids so skinny their bellies pop out. How does that work? You stop eating and you get fat. They look ridiculous the lot of 'em.

Why should I give my hard earned giro to people like that? Our Queen has done her best, sending in our Royal troops to defend them from Saddam or bin Laden or whoever the latest one is. We killed them 2 troublemakers for them and they're still complaining. Not on my watch, I'll be helping heroes at the local Sports and Social club, waving her Majesty's Union Jack for the poor brave soldiers whilst I sit on my lazy arse offering out my opinions. 

The Daily Mail had it right the other day. 100,000 new Muslamics in the country in the last 12 months and 90% can't speak English. They were slagging off Diana down the Mosque too, apparently. You can't go to the shop any more without fearing for your life, they all walk around in gangs, spitting at me in my own country. They even want their own rules at my local school, with them masks on so you can only see their eyes. It's just wrong, our country, our rules, eff off back to where you came from if you don't like it Mohammed. 

And you knock on my door and ask me to give my money to 'that lot'. You say that we wouldn't need to help them if we didn't start wars over there so we can control the oil. You reckon that 98% of the worlds wealth is controlled by 2% of the people. If there's enough food to feed the world 3 times over why doesn't their Government sort it out? You talk about sustainable positive change, what are you a student or something? This is my home, you can't come in here telling me that only 70p can vaccinate a child against polio or whatever. Not in this house, mate. You reckon that for every one of our soldiers that gets injured, 100 of the local civilians in Afghanistan lose their limbs, lives and homes and that as it’s us causing the problems we should take some responsibility for our actions. Well they shouldn’t all be Taliban then, bombing us. Trying to tell me that we’re over there so we can increase opium production, to flood the UK market and drop the price, so the crime stats are down.

You know what I say? I say; "Charity starts at home pal" and slam the door shut on 'em. I know what I know, I like what I like and I call a spade a spade. You won't change me with your new fangled nonsense.

No Love, no idea, no wonder this country is on its knees (praying to Allah no doubt).

Jez

x

Hello lushness,

I've been thinking today about 'Advice'. I'm always very conscious about not offering people too much in the way of advice. Actually I'll rephrase that. I'm keen not to offer 'Justification of my own existence and insecurities about the decisions I've made through the medium of encouraging others to do as I do at every opportunity and masquerading it as sound advice'. 

I'm not saying it's an active strategy to get people to copy you when they ask for help, but it's commonplace. It's rare you hear someone say to you; "well, I did that and if I'm honest, I'd probably not do it the same way if I was you". More often than not you hear; "you definitely need to do it that way". Without a mention of the fact this is the way they did/do it. 

I'm generalising, of course. But, I'm very aware that when babies & parenting are concerned, it's something everyone has an opinion on, and I'm yet to hear anyone suggest they did a crap job. Our ears are ringing from 'advice' we've had about pushchairs, sleeping patterns, babygrow materials etc. But, no more than the subject of breastfeeding. My God, what is everyone's obsession on this subject? We've had every type of advice, from  the 'Breast is Best' milliant hairy armpit extremists, to the 'Formula is Fab' titty protector nihlists. Everyone wants a piece of the action, everyone has an opinion. Everyone has 'advice' to give. 

Honestly, we're keeping our own council, making our own decisions and not listening to anyone we've not invited to share their thoughts with us. Even you, reading this, probably feel compelled to put your tuppence worth in. Don't, keep your private things for your own blog, not mine. If we listened to all of you we'd be putting bottles of someone else's breast milk inside Fi's bra to decieve the babies into thinking this was a natural bottle. Exactly, there are so many conflicting thoughts out there. I've read today online (although it was Daily Mail Online so God only knows what the actual agenda of the article was), that in test, it's been proven that formula fed kids smile & laugh more and sleep better than breast fed kids. Then, found another one suggesting Formula should have a Government Health warning on it. Both total garbage obviously, but it's an example of the fact that no-one really knows what's best, especially not for my kids (yep, not even me!). So much 'advice' based on justification of ones own journey and the precious belief that we're all the best parent(s) in the world. Great thing is that we are. Everyone is different, every child is different, every child needs a parent that works with their own instincts. Everyone I know with kid(s) is a great parent, I'm worried I'm going to struggle to live up to the high standards my male friends have set especially. The group of childish hedonists I know have grown up into great dads, of which I'm pretty much the last and have so much to aspire to. 

Grateful as we are, we'll ask if we need 'advice'. We just want to roll with this in the most free minded way we can and that's only possible if we come to our own place, our own groove without society, loved ones and statistics telling us how to perform the most basic and natural thing in the world; feeding our own children. 

So, expect a blog post about a week after the birth begging you all for your help after no sleep and no idea what we're doing is making us rue all the missed opportunites to learn from the wonderful advice we spurned. This isn't a 'please leave us alone', its a 'thanks, but we've got it covered for now, but the odds are we'll be in touch soon enough' kinda message.

One Love

Jez

x

Please text 70070 with the content: 'BIGD69 £5' to donate £5 to my Marsden March masochistic fundraiser....

Evening all

This blog slot is fast becoming my favourite of the week. Sunday evening, a time for reflection and prioritising my mind for the new week ahead. I know I'm in the company of a readership who often rue the first thoughts of Monday morning and it buoys me on to write something engouraging. because this week could well hit some beautiful notes. 

I'm in a race against time tonight too. The battery on the Macbook is at 8% right now, so I guess I don't have long to think of something to say. So, I'll be brief. 

I've been a bit mental this week. Twice now having cancerous dreaming (last nights was far less upsetting than Thursday nights mind), some heavy news mid-week, an unexpected offer, dinner with great people 3 evenings in a row, all at completely different stages in their lives, all totally awesome and much loved. A right old mix of events and emotions all told. 

This week appears on the surface to be much quieter, more homely, more about preparation and a little local networking. We'll cross over itno the 3rd trimester. I'm ready for it, that much I know. Whatever it throws at me, I'm feeling geared up and ready to take it with me on a wave of bliss and groove. 

5% left on the battery. So I'll close my week in the public eye by saying that 2013 is still on track to deliver my best year to date. It has already proven a tad more tricky than I'd have ideally wanted, but without a challenge I guess I become a lazy little so and so (thanks for the terminology mum!). There are years when it feels like nothing happens and then there are weeks when it feels like years happen. This is going to be one of those weeks, because that's the way I roll....

One Love

Jez

x

So, it's Saturday night, I feel it in the air...

I'm having a think. I'm thinking that this week has been pretty odd. I've been in decent spirits, but I've been hit with some spiritual challenges. 

Had some pretty horrendous news mid-week. Kinda life changing, but affirming and definitive nevertheless. Knowledge is powerful, the unknown drives me bonkers. I guess that's why we've decided to know the sex of the babies. I can't imagine not knowing what's about to be sprung on us. Most of the people I know had no inclination to find out beforehand, but it never once occurred to me that a surprise would be 'fun'. Safe in the knowledge we can choose colours, pictures, rompers and stompers. Maybe I'm missing an emotional gene that dictates the unknown is much more 'boho'?

I felt my first, and second kicks. In all my year I’ve never managed to feel a kick of a pregnant ladies belly. I've held my hand there endless times and not felt a jot. Until now. Now I've felt both of my little boys (yes, I said BOYS!), and they're kicking hard. It's like actually touching them, but not. I feel closer to them now, I've got mental pictures of their faces. They smile a fair amount, they have very cheeky eyes. Fortunately, they don’t' have their mothers temper, or their fathers nose. 

The real fear, one I've had for a few years, is that I won't be around to see them grow up, support them, father them, bring home the dough to keep a roof over my families heads. My mortality is something I fear for, more now than I did when I had cancer. Now I have so much more to live for, to fulfil. I debated and tortured myself for a long-time about the conscious decision to become a father. It hadn't really occurred to me as a deliberate act before cancer and then not again until the past few years. As an active decision I've really had to fight the demons that I may not be around to enjoy my legacy, my offspring. It's a silent battle that takes a huge amount of internal reasoning to overcome. Maybe I'll never completely overcome it, but I think now that I finally believe I'll see them through their childhood. And Fi? I hope I'm here until we leave this place within seconds of each other because without you, I'm nothing....

One Love

Jez

x

Blood in the hood…

Interesting. I didn’t mention that when I woke from my slumber this morning, after the Midas dream, my mouth was full of blood. Significant? Related? Who knows…

I also had an impromptu nose bleed this afternoon. All most irregular and annoyingly worrying. Any sort of blood/pain/oddness that happens around my head always freaks me out beyond the normal realms of rationality. I don’t get nose bleeds and I don’t wake up with blood in my mouth ever unless I’ve been in hospital having surgery of course.

It’s strange, the mind. In my sleep my brain obviously knew I was bleeding. I had a dream that I can only attribute to my brain being concerned about the mystery injury. But, is there any significance to all of this? I’ve never really thought too much about the bearing of dreams on our reality. This one is pretty freaky, but it’s not that bothersome really. I’ve had the dream before, I guess I’m pretty damaged goods in my head, blood and cancer dreams are frequent fliers on JezAir.

Makes me think though. Just saying like.

One Love

Jez

x

Text ‘BIGD69 £5’ to 70070 to donate £5 towards my fundraising target at the Royal Marsden March on 17^th March.

Hi all.

Let me adjust my microphone, I need it cranked up to LOUD!

Hopefully, this week has proved your most wonderful of the year so far. If not, there’s still time. Mine has been full of highs and transcended by a few lows. It’s yet to finish though, and I’m homeward bound so danger should be averted and love is on the agenda. I need the hug of a good woman, fortunately I have a very good woman who has an excellent hug. It’s a tad compromised right now though, there’s something coming between us in our embrace. A couple of things actually…

I didn’t sleep so good last night. The dream demon caught me off guard and threw my most common and dark dream at me. I have a repetitive dream that basically has me as a character similar to Midas (remember the King who wished for everything he touched turning to gold?). However, my Midas has a problem in that everything I touch gets fast acting terminal cancer. Not only that, I have to give someone else cancer to survive longer myself. Kind of like a vampire has to kill to survive, as do I. Pretty dark huh? I spend time looking for bad people to infect with my poisonous hands in order to keep my own heat beating. Wearing Agatha Christie style murdering leather gloves the rest of the time so I don’t touch an innocent. It never comes to a conclusion, it never seems to offer me an option to die, I act like some sort of vigilante, above the law, looking for rapists, paedophiles, bankers, politicians etc. People who society will be better off without. And then I wake up, all annoyed and bothered and out of sorts and maybe a little upset.

I don’t know what the dream means. I don’t know why it keeps coming back. I do know though, that it leaves me feeling very emotional, very tired and really frustrated with myself for not dealing with my spectre as succinctly as I should have done. It strikes usually when I’ve got stuff buzzing around my head, when I’m unsure of how to deal with something, when I’m bothered and absorbed in something that I simply don’t have control of and have to let go of.

Bizarre hey? That’s why I need a hug, baby.                                                

One love

Jez

x 

Death Sticks…

I think you should all stop smoking those death sticks. Remember what Superman used to do to old ‘Nick ‘O’ Teen’? He used to bash him and then crush his pack of fags, saying ‘I never say yes to a cigarette’. And let’s face it, Superman is pretty damn cool. Not as cool as Batman, but cool enough. Just saying, pack in the fags you lot. You’ve got too much to live for…

Meanwhile on planet Jez, fundraising is occurring. Last night after a brief but rather forceful appeal £182 was pledged! How’s about that then? That’s wonderful news. Becky and Hannah put in £50 each and a mystery donor pledged £30. But, the lucky winner of a hug and a kiss is Lee. You get to taste a winner buddy!

In all seriousness, I’m keen to raise as much as possible, so don’t think for one second that you’re going to escape my evil clutches. You can donate to my page simply by texting:

70070 and the message ‘BIGD69 £5’ for a £5 donation, ‘BIGD69 £10’ for a £10 donation etc. Simples…

So what is the thought of the day? There’s nothing in my mind, other than the need to beg you all to stop the death sticks. Give the money you would have spent to Royal Marsden Cancer Charity before it’s too late. Before you need them to dig you out of your self made hole. I can’t make it any clearer, smoking is the shits and it gives you cancer and stuff. Do you have kids? Then stop. Do you have grandkids? Then stop. Does anyone in the world love you? Then stop because they want you fit and healthy.

That’s my rant. I’m not apologising. Please just do it and stop pretending you’re cool by smoking behind the bike sheds, because you ain’t cool anymore, in fact, you might even get arrested like Kevin Webster did. That’s how uncool you’ve become.

Night..

One Love

Jez

x

Evening. This is a very brief update and a completely undisguised fundraising pitch. 

If you're reading this, it's because I'm alive and you have some sort of interest in my good (or mis) fortune. This, I would suggest, means you pretty much know what I'm up to, where I've been and how tricky it's been. 

I'm doing the Marsden March in less than 4 weeks time. It's going to be a huge achievement for me, because I'm still unable to wear anything on my feet that isn't an espadrille or a flip flop. A 14 mile hike from Chelsea to Sutton might well pt me back a few months, but I've registered and I'm committed to completing the course. 

Royal Marsden Hospital have been wonderful throughout my journey. The Cancer Charity rely heavily on fundraising and The Marsden March is their biggest event. Myself and likeminded types will be hoping to raise a combined £1 million for the charity.

I estimate that 500 people will read this page at some point. If each of you could please pledge just £2, I'll have hit a fundraising target of £1000! That would be an incredible amount of money to raise in less than 4 weeks. I'd be so so proud to be representing you and I'll press on and make the journey in the knowledge you guys have faith in me. 

Please, hit the link and pledge £2, or as much as you can to this wonderful charity. With you, they'll be stronger. And I'll be back in a wheelchair, but it'll make for some good reading hey!?!

www.justgiving.com/bigdaddyjezza

First one to give £20 is going to get a special mention and a big kiss. Don't be put off, I'll brush my teeth first!

One Love

Jez

x

Mind Control...

I'm aware of 2 types of 'mind control'...

External control of the mind and uniqueness of our essence, by the likes of the media and the Government and McDonalds and Coca-Cola etc, and also the internal control we have to apply to function within society and within ourselves. I guess there are many more, but I'm at constant odds with these 2 varieties most of the time...

Externally battling the system, or thinking I'm fighting the often invisible power, seeking out the existential path. Shaping my decisions on me, not  thee, not what thee suggests or demands I should conform too. I wonder how often I fool myself into feeling free, like a free thinking warrior, when I'm actually succumbing to 'their' wishes without a whimper. 

This quest for freedom probably pre-dates my introduction to Bob Marley in the bus shelter when I was about 14. Before someone told us that smoking banana skins would get us high, before even my first school report that suggested I was trouble, that I was never going to amount to anything. When I was 11 I touched a Rembrandt in the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam. I went under the rope and touched it. It was bumpy, the alarm was loud, the security chased me around, I was free, they couldn't contain me. This battle is one I'll never win alone, but it's one I'll never give up...

Internally battling my system, or trying not to over think my own invisible powers. Controlling my thoughtful tangents and throwing me off-centre. The cancer demon, the dark spectre that lurks in the shadow of my mind. He taps away, tap tap tap, reminding me of my mortality. I then try to control him with rationale, distraction and oblivion. The battle is long, in the end no-one wins the battle, no-one ever wins any war. Both sides adapt and over time they learn to live with each other, conspire together on greater things even. But no-one wins the battle and no-one ever wins any war. 

One day, cancer can't touch me. The next it haunts me like a headless ghost. I have mind control though and my mind has more and more control as I feel the warmth and faith of others building around me. You see, with your faith in me, I'm stronger than one man. 

"I had cancer, cancer didn't have me...." - Jezism.

One Love

Jez

x

Sunday Sermon time!

Evening all. Hope you all had a wonderful weekend and are revved up, full of fantastic anticipation at the thought of this coming week. This week has been an odd one really. I've been beavering away, trying to create opportunities from old contacts and new potential clients. I sit here today with no more orders, no more commitment to my new business than I did last Sunday evening. 

In some ways I'd say that's a tad scary! In others though, I have to take the positives. I've met 3 potential new clients, and all have been making very positive noises about my services, my ethos and there's certainly been a meeting of minds on more than one occasion. The trick now is to maintain the momentum from afar and put something together that encourages commitment. This is what its all about I guess, gaining interest, then trust and finally the commitment. So, I have to hold my nerve, demonstrate patience (which, as you know is not something I'm very good at!) and when the commitment comes I have to deliver above and beyond expectations. 

One thing I do know is that I'm very keen to trade on reputation and recommendation. Rather that than constantly be needing to find new clients. New business is hard enough with a normal mouth. This one makes introductions extremely challenging. To date, just about every order or positive meeting has come from my book of contacts. People I've worked for, or with in the past who is showing faith still now, years later in some cases. This I like, this tells me I've been pretty good at what I do, and I've maintained some degree of integrity throughout my professional life, enough for people to work with me again. 

And that's where I'm at. Not much further on than I was last week in many ways, but feeling the confidence of someone who is being shown some faith by others. This week should be a really enjoyable one if everything rolls in as it should. Back on track, back in control of my life, back to wondering what on earth I'm going to do with 2 screaming kids and a business to run!

I suppose, to summarise this week, I'd say that I've enjoyed it. I've felt a shift and it's a positive movement that I've created. It matters not how many times I fail, or fall short, because I’ll keep getting up, dusting myself off and I'll still be standing until success is ground out. That's just the way I roll, it's the only way I know. I just have to try not to repeat my mistakes, to learn from every failure. Success should be measured in many ways I guess. I judge my success in what I have to give up in order to get it. In my ethos and ethics. In my resilience to the challenges that throw themselves at me. But mostly, in the faith that others show in me. In this faith people confirm I've not had to give too much up, that my ethos and ethics are strong and that no matter what challenges present themselves, I'm always going to be standing tall at the end of the day because with the faith of others I'm stronger than one man....

One Love

Jez

x

Evening

Just a short one. I'm heading out to play poker with some poor suckers...

I've had an interesting week. Productive in many way, not so in others. The main resonation though is that everyone I've moved forward with professionally has been either an ex-employer, ex-employee, or a recomendation from my previous incarnations. I can only assume that after years of trying to make sure I've created a balance for the Karma Sponge, and ensure I treat people with respect, I am being shown faith in return now I'm the one asking for an opportunity. It feels really great to actually see the fruits of supporting and nurturing people and doing my best not to screw people over is actually starting to stand me in good stead now. The karma sponge may have dripped a few drops....

This is not to say I've not made mistakes or indeed, screwed people over. But, on the whole I've always tried to maintain my integrity and I've always considered myself someone who respects others. 

Anyway, thought I'd share that little tit bit, bit of tit, whatever, with you. It has been an enlightening moment to realise that maybe it was worth doing things the hard way after all...

Keep it unreal people. 

One Love

Jez 

The Blizzard of life...

Well well well. Old Marge powered through the blizzards today. There was hardly a trickle of snow in the air when we hit the road, but the further North we got, the whiter and wilder the powder. Espadrilles failed the mission mind. My feet were frozen and soaking wet trudging through the sludge. 

I even went off road in the pursuit of honey. I saw a sign that just said 'LOCAL HONEY £4' and like Winnie the Pooh, I turned old Marge around and followed my nose to the hunny pot. The sign was the first of many, the pot was on a proper farm with geese and tractors and loads of snow. The espadrilles got stuck in the snow, the socks got even wetter. I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation because it was pretty absurd really. On my way to a meeting, off road, in the snow, in summer footwear, in Marge, who ain't a Land Rover by any stretch, all in the pursuit of hunny. Anyway, got the hunny, got back on the road and then saw a farm shop and pretty much followed the same pattern of slapstick in the search of faggots, a scotch egg and cream éclairs. It was fun chasing these local delights from rural England. One thing I miss about the country is the local stuff you can go and get from the farm, or the local pub, or wherever the contraband/produce may be. It's all too easy to wander into Tesco when you live in the city and serve yourself and avoid interaction with anyone apart from the poor bugger who's running around clearing the errors from the systems, thanklessly. The thrill of the chase today was fun, a little foolish, but fun nevertheless. 

There was never any doubt then that I'd arrive to a good vibe. A meeting of complimentary thoughts. I nattered on, with my audience trying to understand me (because it was talking about a right load of leftfield thoughts and my voice sounding loads less clear than last week when I had man flu blocking up my nose), but digging the vibe and picking up just about enough of the words to piece together my groove. We'll do something together because it makes sense and I want to go back on more rural food gathering. 

Pooh, didn't know what it was called. Certainly, eating the honey is lush, but the journey will stick with me with fond memories for some time. I call it a Jezism. A moment for me to enjoy, and share, and therefore hope you enjoy too. 

“Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.” 
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Or, you could call it; 'The Thrill of the Chase' of course. The moment you know the honey pot is yours for the taking. It's true that in that moment, there's a divine sense of achievement that the act of consumption often fails to live up too. If you're someone else of course, I'm a winner with a honey pot...

One Love

Jez

x

“Nothing, Everything, Anything, Something: If you have nothing, then you have everything, because you have the freedom to do anything, without the fear of losing something.” ― Jarod Kintz

I’ve been thinking today about the constant fight for freedom I feel like I’m rolling with. Freedom from Cancer and its mental torture. Freedom from the Social Conditioning that’s constantly being thrown at me. Freedom to be me and not who ‘they’ say I should be.

It has really occurred to me that this freedom is an impossible dream if I can’t open my mind to think freely. Without the constraint and expectancy I apply to myself, rather than society applies to me. I’m now locked in my own prison, trying to suss out how to rid myself of self-applied conditions.

It has made me think about the Sadhu’s I used to sit with and try to share my imagination with in India. Essentially, a Sadhu will sacrifice all of the pleasures in life, such as clothing, a home, any material possessions and give himself up to his cause. Be it religion, spirituality or (as it would appear is often the case), smoking chillums of dope all day in the name of said God or cause. If the only way to find freedom is to sacrifice ones pleasures, surely this is much easier in India than it is in England. I mean, it’s OK wandering around barefoot in a robe in India, I’ve done it myself. But over here, in the snow, I guess I’d be locked up for being a lunatic/sex case/danger to society. So, a less extreme, or less complete freedom will have to do.

After all, I need to be a father first. To be father unfortunately I have to have an income to fund the home, the clothes, the material possessions that my family need in order for them to function in society. Branded nappies, cute little rompers, bouncers and sterilised bottles are all essentials. Aren’t they?

You now understand my quandary. To be free I need to be fulfilled. To be fulfilled I need to provide for my dependants. To provide for my dependants I need to conform. To be free I need to conform. It’s some sort of perpetual motion.

However, I’m determined to press on with freedom from Cancer. Being the guy who had cancer is kind of who I am. This I’m cool with, but what I’m not cool with is the looming darkness that seems to accompany the scars and other constant reminders that I’ll always have to be very aware of my physical misfortunes. I can be free and be aware though. I just can’t be free whilst in fear.

I don’t have the answers today. I’m still trying to figure out how to manage this journey. I’m on it though, and I am living with my ‘I had cancer, cancer didn’t have me’ mantra. Good starting points.

Must dash, I’ve got to earn some dirty money to buy something I can consume. Nobody’s perfect, I’m work in progress after all!

One Love

Jez

x

And so, magic Monday draws to a close...

How was it for you? I got everything done that was on my list of things to do. I still feel dissatisfied with the level of productivity though. There was a distinct lack of urgency out in the universe today despite my attempts to encourage and cajole some joy and wonderment out of just about anyone who'd listen. I guess that waiting and wondering are all part of the game. My issue with waiting and wondering is that I'm literally the most impatient person I know. 

I hate waiting at traffic lights, I simply don't queue up if there's half a chance i can jump in without causing too much antagonism, the waiting game will never be one I play if I can help it. Whoever said that patience is a virtue was someone who represents many things I disagree with. So many people sit around waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for an opportunity they've not earned to run up to them and present itself on the plate with a slice of lemon and a sprig of parsley for garnish. Patient people surely miss out on the thrill of the chase, maybe they feel that it's fine to be a passenger, ride on the wave of acceptance. Me, nah, I'll bust a groove, keep on moving, take the more difficult route just so long as I'm not standing still waiting for the queue to inch forward. 

The most dangerous risk of all - The risk of spending your life not doing what you want in the hope you can buy yourself the freedom later in life....

Personally, I think being impatient is far more virtuous than being patient. I mean, who ever heard of world changing leaders who waited for change? Ok, so I'm not being totally true to myself. I actually handle stress pretty well as a rule, I'm a really good listener for a Northern guy and I rarely break into a fit of drumming my fingers, tapping my feet and scratching my head because of the day-to-day pressures of life. However...

I'm a really impatient patient. 14 weeks have passed since my operation. I can't talk properly. I can't eat without needing to blow half my food out of my nose. I can't walk properly. I can't wear anything other than flipping espadrilles for more than 5 minutes without being in pain. I can't feel the left hand side of my leg. I can't feel half of my foot. I can't feel some of my face. I can't even move my lower lip into a pucker for Valentines day. I'm impatient because I simply can't continue to just sit around and not feel like I'm improving, repairing, getting better every day. It feels like rehabilitation has come to a standstill and that's going to be the case for another couple of months at least. 

Reality is, I need physio on my leg/foot. I'm waiting (notice the pattern), for a referral from my doctor. Southville surgery in Bristol is possibly the weakest of all the healthcare links I've had the displeasure of experiencing. The amount of time I spend waiting for them is ridiculous. If I'm ill, I have to wait 3 weeks for an appointment, wait an hour after the appointment is due when I'm there because they overbook assuming 3 weeks is long enough for people to get better without their help, wait for the results of the belated tests, wait again because they mess up the results, wait again because they can't fit me in for another 3 weeks, etc. You get the picture. Under resourced, under skilled, disorganised and they don't care because they have a captive audience who really don't want to register with the smack heads on St John's Lane. I'm close to mixing it up with the junkies to be honest. At least they'll be too off their rockers to notice me queue jumping them.

Ah well, I feel much more tolerant, yielding and forbearing now I’ve been ‘The English Patient’ and moaned about my problems. Thank you for your patience, you virtuous sods.

One Love

Jez

x 

Evening, my Sunday lovelies.

We're here again, Sunday evening, full of wonderment and anticipation because the best week of our lives so far starts in only 4 hours! Yeah it does...

It has been a darn fine weekend actually, just the ticket after a decidedly unproductive and challenging latter half of the working week. Taking Friday off has left me with a lot of catching up to do tomorrow. Something that has hit me hard is that when you work for yourself, every day you take off as 'holiday' is actually just a way of creating work for the following day/week, or simply losing a days worth of revenue generation. The sooner I expand massively, so I'm just a part-time CEO with a ridiculous benefits package irrespective of my performance, the better. I've decided that I’m going to take 14 weeks holidays like teachers, pay a final salary pension like most civil servants, make it nigh on impossible to be given disciplinaries for under performance like just about any public sector job and a bonus scheme that ensures I at least double my salary even when I sack myself for losing money, like half the bankers. Obviously, I'll need to bung my local MP a couple of quid too, so when I drive around tanked up on vintage champagne I won't get breathalysed. After all, drink driving on expensive champagne isn't the same as DUI after a downing Tesco carrier bag full of Natch, that's just reprehensible behaviour!

In all seriousness though, it's quite a reality check to think about benefits and security. I've not had a pension or PMI since 2005. I've not enjoyed any kind of benefit for yonks and now I've started a role that I can't even take a day off from without sacrificing my salary. I suppose the theory is that I won't need a pension because I'll make my fortune and I won't need PMI because I've already spend more time in hospital than anyone normally does in a whole lifetime. I won't even get any Paternity pay when we have the twins, I must be off my rocker...

Or, I must be convinced that this is the right time for me to go it alone. Leave behind the shackles of employment and conformity and embrace the freedom of complete autonomy and responsibility. One thing you need to be able to shoulder when you’re rolling it alone is responsibility. It’s no good pointing your finger because the only place you can point it is in the mirror. Of course, when it all falls into place and the deals drop, there’s no-one else taking all the glory either, no-one else sharing the spoils. This, I like. This is why I want to see how far I can take these projects on my own. There’s no question I have the ability to make a tidy living and maintain myself as a positive force whilst doing so. The doubt is within my application and focus. It’s always been the same, ever since I was a tiny little boy. My school reports pretty much all said the same; Grade A, Effort D; Jeremy seems to think that he can just cruise through life and it’ll remain as easy as he’s finding it now. He’s going to have to buckle down. He’s a distraction to himself and those around him. What are you feeding him, he won’t sit still? I have no idea how he made this grade, he didn’t do any work all year in my class. He seems incapable of concentrating on anything for more than 5 minutes. I fear for Jeremy, he simply doesn’t function in the manner to which we must become accustomed. Etc…

Well, sod you teachers, I’m going to have a cushty benefits package like you guys soon enough. And I’m going to do it all by myself despite what you all said about me never amounting to anything. Maybe you should have learned the art of extracting the best from people like me, rather than chastising us and trying to suppress our individuality. Social Conditioning is ruining our individuality and the filthy Tory national curriculum is poisoning our children’s minds. The education system failed me, and it’s failing our children now more so that it was 30 years ago. So, sod ya, us individuals are off to learn our own lyrics, teach each other how to behave and try to enjoy our freedom.

Everybody is a Genius, but if you judge a fish by it’s ability to climb a tree it will live its whole life believing it is stupid. Either that, or make it a lifelong mission to try and disprove the system that said that climbing trees is more important than swimming freely….

One Love

Jez

x