Confronting The Reality That Is Unknown

As Christmas Approaches

I shot myself in the foot this year. Massively.

I'm currently writing Christmas cards. Which I've done every year for years and I've tended to write them to the same people. Or, at least, have people in mind when I'm writing them in case Mum and I both do one to the same person with both our names in it. This year is different though. This year is different for a number of reasons. Firstly, I'm writing most of my own cards now. So I get to decide who gets them and who doesn't. Anyone I don't really know the address of or who I don't think would benefit from having one from me is for me to decide.

Secondly, I've starting to write cards to people who are no longer with us. Or, I started to write them before remembering.

This year, I went to a funeral for the first time. Then I went to a second one in a week. And, then, I went to the third funeral in as many months. I don't know what kind of drugs 2016 has been smoking but I suggest we collectively confiscate them and banish this year to the annals of history. Very few good things have occurred this year and, let's face it, those good things are going to be in our personal lives, not the public consciousness.

But I felt the need to explain this on a blog before I end up crying on my bed for the upteenth time over this.

This story stars early this year when my Mum and I discovered my great aunt, Phyllis, was diagnosed with stomach cancer and, because she was in her early 90s, she'd refused chemo. So she was terminal. We all knew her death was coming, it was only a matter of time. But it was how she would end up going which still makes me upset.

Back in May, Phyll was admitted to Salisbury Hospital after bringing up some black vomit. (This was later found to be down to a number of things, the cancer included). She was sent into hospital and put into an isolated room in case she had Norovirus. (A pointless fucking exercise if you ask me because she didn't have Norovirus). Anyway, she was promised a bed in a hospice soon after she was admitted but this sadly never occurred. She spent the rest of her life in that isolated room, shut off from other patients.

I went to see Phyll 3 times before she passed away. I didn't intend this to occur, it just kind of happened. But, as they transpired, I did this for a number of reasons.

1. I always thought a lot of Phyll, despite family quarrels, and I figured that, considering I hadn't experienced a close death by this point, the more I saw her before she died, the easier her eventual death would become.

2. At that moment in time, it was easier for me to get to Salisbury and make the time than it was for my Mum and my Nan (Phyll's sister).

3. I like being of assistance. So I went to help Phyll's daughter and grandkids if they needed it.


The first time seeing her was fine. She was a little shattered but, hey, hospitals. She didn't recognise me at first but then when she realised who I was she seemed happy I was there, as she was happy with everyone.

The second time was a little more tricky. By this point, she was starting to deteriorate rapidly. She wasn't keeping solids down, she wasn't keeping much fluid down either. And her morphine had been increased. So she was starting to come in and out of consciousness.

The second time was hard for another reason.

Long story short, my maternal grandfather, Donald, died in 1981. This was hard for everyone in my family to cope with. And he's continually talked about. Obviously, being born 13 years after his death, I never met him so I only know him from words and stories. No video footage exists so I don't even know what he sounded like.

During the second visit of mine, Phyll started to see various people from her past. (And, as it turns out her future! She saw her great-granddaughter as an adult apparently). But, at one point, I was standing at the foot of her bed. She looked at me for a moment, then looked to the side of me and smiled more. Before saying "Donald...Donald Frampton...what are you doing here?"

I couldn't help but feel my heart break a little. I ended up telling Mum on the way home. It was weird watching someone deteriorate like that.

The prelude to the second and third visits were somewhat weird though.

I was in my room one day after seeing my girlfriend off home. She'd been ill the whole day and her dad had come to get her so I was on my own. 10 minutes after she left, I got a phone call from my Mum. I answered it and heard her crying. I assumed that Phyll had passed away that day.

"When did she pass away?"

"It's not Phyll..."

"Then what?"

"Uncle Sandy died this morning..."

"..."

Uncle Sandy was Phyll's and my Nan's younger brother. He'd had dementia for a couple of years before he finally passed away, but given we were all expecting Phyll to go, Sandy was the first.

In my own head, I'd mentally prepared and accepted Phyll's death to be first. Sandy's death, in my own personal life, was a complete blindside. My girlfriend text me to tell me she was home and my response was near enough me asking her to come back and help me because I'd been crying uncontrollably.

I suppose, in a way, Phyll was too out of it to realise Sandy was truly gone. Which might be a good thing? I don't know. But it was how he suddenly died that caught everyone off guard.

This also led to the third visit, the tuesday of the following week, a little weird. Phyll, by this point, was more or less gone. She was out of it most of the time.

The only coherent conversation I personally managed to get out of her was her telling me how she liked the Beatles. Oh, and she asked why I wasn't there with my Mum or Nan.

But there was one thing about that third visit that still gets me to this day and I still feel completely stupid for it.

Mum told me, when I started visiting, that the best thing to do in that situation is to not draw attention to what's going on. Act like everything's normal. Which pissed me off in a way because these were exceptional circumstances and I didn't see the point in acting normal. Anyway, I took Mum's advice.

When I was leaving, I gave her a kiss on the cheek and I ended up saying to her "get better soon!" To which she just smiled.

I felt stupid the moment I said it and I still feel kinda stupid now.

Why am I telling you this?

Both my mother and I nearly ended up writing Christmas cards for them.

Also, without going into too much detail, one of my best friend's dad's died suddenly in August. And I'd be lying if I didn't nearly write his name in their card instinctively.

The death of Phyll in particular has affected me most out of the three. Probably because I took the time to see her before she died. I still catch myself getting upset about it. And, tbh, if I hadn't just trolled my girlfriend in Arabic on Facebook asking her Syrian hamster to shit on her t-shirt again, I probably would've cried throughout all this.

So why have I written this?

Catharsis. I'm not going to really think much about Phyll, Sandy or my friend's dad over Christmas. I don't really see why I should in real terms. But it's just the fact that it is still weird. It only occurred to me the other day that I didn't get a card from Phyll because she died nearly 2 months before my birthday. It's little things like that that make the whole thing weird.

Mind you, one funny story that I think Phyll would've funny.

At her funeral, we found out she'd decided to have a wicker coffin instead of a big box. I was asked to be one of the the pool-bearers and I accepted the honour. However, I've never done it before. When the coffin was lifted up and put on our shoulders, we suddenly felt something give inside the coffin. I still don't know to this day what it was, but I was convinced that Phyll was going to make a guest appearance in the chapel!

I still don't know what I'd have done in that situation but all I know at the time is that I'd decided that, if it had happened, I'd look at my Nan (who'd probably horrified) and nervously go "ta-da".

Yeah, my sense of humour needs work.


So the moral of this?

Don't dwell on the dead. But spare a thought now and again. Christmas will be difficult, especially if you lost someone this year. I also know someone whose Mum passed suddenly so I don't pretend to be the expert but it will be weird. Especially for the kind of exposure we went through with Phyll.

Merry Christmas either way. I probably won't make another blog post now until 2017 so I wish all of you a merry Christmas and a very happy new year. And live life now. If this year has taught us anything, with deaths that are public and deaths that are private, you never know when things might just suddenly stop.

'Next To Your Heartbeat, Where I Should Be' [Short Story]

He sat alone in his armchair listening to David Bowie. His favourite armchair. The one he’d acquired nearly 60 years ago. It had lasted a long time and had seen many different things. It had seen him move in with his partner. It had seen him move in with her. It had seen them return from their honeymoon. It had seen their first baby. And the second. And the third. It even saw the various grandkids.

Anyway, the chair wasn’t important. It held sentimental value but that’s all. What was most important was the man sitting in the chair. 89 years old and sad. He was a very sad man. He was sad for a number of reasons. Firstly, he was in the house all alone. The house he and his wife had been in since they moved in together during their 20s. His wife had passed away nearly a decade previously and, when she did, it broke him. It changed him. He went from a happy-go-lucky guy to someone who would rather be on his own. The moment she died, it was almost like he died too.

His children have more or less given up on him now. They can’t accept that his wish to be alone is actually a cry for help. They just think he’s doing it for attention. Or he’s doing it to be difficult. They just send him a card every birthday and Christmas. His youngest daughter visits him sometimes but the others can’t be bothered. They see him as a burden and that he’s the one pushing them away. Despite the fact, really, he just doesn’t know how to ask for help.

His grandkids, however, haven’t given up on him. They can’t understand their parents’ complacency and they do what they can to help their elderly grandfather. Sadly, many of them have moved away now and have gone on to do their own thing. Out of the 6 grandkids, only 2 live closer now.

The eldest is Charity. She’s nearly in her 30s now. She works in Lincoln and has 2 kids of her own. She’s a high flying lawyer and rarely gets the chance to come to Hampshire and see her dear old Grandad. But she’ll never forget the time she sat on Grandad’s knee and listened as he recounted the story of the Battle of Hastings in 1066. (She realises now that he did use some artistic licence. By all estimates, it’s highly unlikely that Harold Godwinson was killed with a Lightsaber).

The next oldest is Peter. Peter is around the same age as Charity except he lives in Cardiff with his husband and adopted daughter, Cara. He visits when he can but, being in Wales, it’s hard for him. Especially as he works for the Welsh Government. But he fondly remembers the day he went to the park with Grandad, Grandma and Charity where he fell off the monkey bars after arrogantly claiming he could do all of them. He remembers less fondly the fact that Grandad laughed at him hysterically when he did fall.

Then it’s Terra. Terra was originally born Tracey but adopted Terra after coming out as non-binary aged 15. Non-binary, asexual and aromantic, they live a happy existence in London. Despite the blatant generation gap, Grandad and Grandma were far more accepting of their non-binary status than their parents or other relatives were. They often spent time round Grandad and Grandma’s house as a means of escape and Grandad would always do the same thing. Hand them a bottle of Sprite and watch a terrible old comedy like Hot Fuzz or Arrested Development. They don’t come down a lot now and it upsets them that they can’t see Grandad as often as they’d like.

Sarah’s next. The jetsetter. She’s just finished university yet she managed to get a good job with a corporation that is based in numerous cities across the globe. She’s been to Sydney, Dubai, Caracas, New York and so many other exotic places. She’s currently in Beijing trying not to suffocate from the smog. She’ll never forget the dinner lecture Grandad gave her about how China is a fascinating socialist-capitalist society but has a lot of shortcomings. Something she’s starting to experience for herself. Her Chinese husband doesn’t seem to mind however.

Jack would visit more if he could. But, actually, it’s Grandad who visits him. Jack lies in the cemetery next to his grandmother where the family thought it best. Jack was sadly involved in a terrorist attack while visiting Terra in London. Terrorists opened fire in Waterloo station and Jack got caught in the crossfire. He was one of the first to die and it ripped the family apart further. Not only for the circumstances in which he died, but it was also because he died exactly 9 years after his grandmother. Grandad would never quite get over that. But, that said, Grandad would always remember putting a cape on Jack’s back and fly him around the room like a superhero. Grandad always hoped he’d like the Flash more than Superman but “each to their own” he’d say. Grandma was far from impressed, being a Batman fanatic.

This leaves Vicki. The youngest. Vicki was 19 and was the least ambitious of all the grandchildren. She never wanted to be an astronaut, a teacher, a scientist or anything high-flying. She didn’t want to go to university or anything like that. She just wanted to be a nursery school assistant and be a musician part time. She got her love of music from Grandad and Grandma. While her sibling and cousins would listen to the modern trash, Vicki would listen to the music Grandad liked. She got more into Grandma’s music as she got older but she would always prefer the music of people like Marvin Gaye and Freddie Mercury to Nirvana or Biffy Clyro.

It could be argued that Vicki and Grandad got on the best out of all the family combinations. And a lot of this is down to music. Music connected them. They’d spend whole evenings discussing music, discussing musical history and, on very rare occasions, Grandad would show her his vast record collection. Weird and wonderful compositions ranging from the heavy metal of Black Sabbath and Motorhead to the slightly more upbeat dance songs of The Specials and Blondie. She also fondly remembers a time, when she was about 6 or 7, when Grandad sat her on his lap and they listened to the whole of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band in its entirety. She wasn’t overly fussed on the Beatles but she always loved vinyl. When she was younger, she felt that Vinyl was magic. Leading to her saying one day, aged 4, “please, Grandad, put the burnt pizza on so we can hear the music!”

But Vicki’s visits filled Grandad with a lot of positivity. And, for a while, he’d be like the man he was before Grandma died. He’d smile, sing, dance, just be the fun loving grandad she remembers from when she was younger. A man who now seems a stranger.

“Grandad, it’s only me!”

“In the living room, love!”

Vicki walked in and saw her Grandad in his usual position. His favourite armchair, coffee on the table, The Guardian on the coffee table, listening to another vinyl. This time, it was Bowie. Vicki put her guitar bag down and walked over to the turntable to peruse the album. She picked up the sleeve and nodded approvingly.

“The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Good choice!”

Grandad smiled.

“Ziggy was the first Bowie album I acquired. I had it on CD for a long time. But then your grandmother borrowed it and, despite living together for nearly 60 odd years, never gave it back!”

Vicki chuckled and carefully put the sleeve down. Suffragette City came on and she suddenly felt the compulsion to dance. She started to play the air-guitar, strut and do all the moves she thought Bowie would’ve made in the day. Grandad laughed as she continued the show. She held out her hand for him to join her but he refuses.

“Oh, come on Gramps! A girl needs a partner!”

Grandad chuckles but continues to refuse. Vicki accepted his refusal but did note that it was unusual. Usually, he’d jump at the first opportunity to dance. Yes, he’d been moving more slowly in recent times, but he normally made the effort. She loved their dances but she didn’t take it too much to heart.

The song came to an end and Vicki took a deep breath. As she does, Grandad points to the turntable.

“Vicki, love, could you change it please?”

“Sure can! What do you have in mind?”

“Could you put Ed Sheeran’s ‘X’ in please? And skip it to ‘Nina’?”

“Coming right up!”

She does as he asks but notices that something isn’t quite right with him. She tries to ignore this feeling.

“Isn’t it Ed Sheeran that Terra likes?”

“Hmmm? I’m not sure. How is Terra? Have you spoken to them recently?”

“Not for a while. Aunty Isla says they’re ok though. Well, her exact words were ‘yes, Vick, SHE’S fine!’”

Grandad scoffs in disgust.

“We raised your Aunt Isla better than that!”

Suddenly, Grandad coughs violently. Ed Sheeran plays as Vicki attends to him. Grandad stops after a few moments and struggles to catch breath. Vicki can’t shake the feeling anymore that something isn’t right.

“Grandad…are you ok?”

Grandad slumps back into his chair and looks at Vicki. He shakes his head softly and looks very sad. Vicki looks confused.

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“A few days now…”

“Why didn’t you say something, you stupid old codger?”

“Because what’s the point, Vick? I’m an old man, I’ve had my time”.

“So, what, you were just going to sit here and listen to your records until you slipped away?”

“You and I both know there are far worse ways to die…”

“That’s not funny”

“Who’s laughing!?”

Vicki thinks for a moment, looks back at the Ed Sheeran record and then back at the man in front of her. She realises.

“Photograph…Photograph’s next…you and Nan’s song…”

Grandad starts to cry as he realises how upset Vicki’s becoming.

“Vick, please…”

“We’re going to get a doctor and we’re going to get you the help you need!”

“There’s no cure for old age, sweetie…”

Suddenly, the next song starts. Photograph by Ed Sheeran. The acoustic guitar intro fills the room with a subdued atmosphere. Grandad starts to cry a little more. Vicki looks at the pained man one more time and realises there’s nothing she can do. She closes her eyes for a moment before opening them once again and sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“Grandad…tell me about that day?”

“Our wedding day? I’ve told you that story so many times…”

“Please? Once more?”

He looked at her on the ground for a moment, closes his eyes and then reopens him. When he does, he sees a little girl sitting in front of him. The little brunette girl he used to have on his knees. He smiles and nods.

“It was June. We were on a field in my hometown. We’d hoped for nice weather and, well, did we get it! I stood at the altar with my best man and I was shaking like a leaf. Don’t get me wrong, it felt right but I was a wreck. I never could understand why. We’d been together for a few years so I couldn’t grasp why I was this nervous but I was nevertheless. Suddenly, the music began and your Grandmother walked down the aisle. I decided the night before I wouldn’t look back as she walked down but, in that moment, I couldn’t not. I couldn’t not look at the beautiful creature coming towards me. So I did. I looked. And I cried. She looked…amazing. I can’t think of any word to do her justice to be honest. A long, flowing, white dress. She looked just as nervous as I did but she was just as determined. We wanted to make that commitment. And now was time, now was the place. The service itself was particularly uneventful. Everything went as it should. But it was the reception that I remember most. Because Photograph was the first song we danced to. Just her and I on that dancefloor. We just danced and it felt like it was just us. As far as we were concerned, no one else was in the room but us…”

Suddenly, the memory goes fuzzy.

“And then…then…why…I can’t remember…”

Vicki realises. She holds back tears as she watches her hero start to fade away.

“Grandad, why don’t…why don’t I put on Sam Cooke? We can have a sing song together?”

Grandad shakes his head violently.

“No…I need to remember…I need to remember that moment…”

“Grandad, please…”

“NO. I NEED TO REMEMBER! WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER!?”

Vicki puts her hand over her mouth. Grandad calms down a little and looks at her.

“I’m so sorry, Vicki…take my hand…”

She does so swiftly. She loses control of her tears and they come pouring out.

“Vicki, don’t cry…”

“I don’t want to lose you…you’re my hero…I lost Jack, I lost Nan and I can’t lose you too…I can’t…I love you too much…”

“I love you too, Victoria…”

She buries her face in his torso and starts to cry uncontrollably. And with all the strength he can muster, he leans over and strokes her hair. He kisses her head, smiles and starts to sing.

“You can fit me; Inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen, Next to your heartbeat where I should be, Keep it deep within your soul…”

Vicki starts to laugh and cry at the same time. He continues.

“And if you hurt me, Well, that's okay baby, only words bleed, Inside these pages you just hold me, And I won't ever let you go…”

Vicki starts to cry more. But she takes over.

“When I'm away, I will remember how you kissed me…Under the lamppost back on Sixth street…Hearing you whisper through the phone…”

She waits for the final line from him, but it never comes. She looks up and sees him staring transfixed at the door. She looks at the door and then back at him. She notices him smiling. She looks once more.

“Grandad, what are you smiling at?”

He looks and sees his wife standing at the door, exactly how she was when they met. All those years ago, He smiles and then cries as he realises why she’s there.

“Grandad?”

“I’ll be with you soon, sweetie. I promise…I’m coming”

Vicki realise who he’s seeing and starts to cry more. She swallows her tears and looks at him once more. His wife walks over to him and settles next to Vicki. She holds out her hand and caresses his cheeks. She smiles sadly.

“You got old…”

He chuckles.

“You never did…”

Vicki tries once more to hold back tears as she realises what’s going on. She sits and watches, her heart breaking with every second.

“I’ve waited so long for you…”

“I’ve waited too. I always made a second plate of food, always made up two sets of pillows, always bought two drinks at the pub…”

His wife smiles.

“You always were a sentimental old man…”

“I was a sentimental young man too”

She smiles once more.

“Remember the ball?”

“Our first date. Remember London?”

“We went to Hamley’s”

“We had milkshake”

“And dinner on Whitehall”

They chuckle. His wife smiles sweetly.

“We can relive all those memories. We can be together once more and do all those wonderful things again. A second chance. Would you like that?”

“More than anything…”

“Then you have to be ready…”

“I’ve been ready for a decade…”

His wife holds out her hand.

“Then come…”

He nods, looks at Victoria and, with all the energy he has left, he stands up out of his favourite armchair. As he stands there he turns to his beautiful granddaughter one more time.

“Goodbye, Victoria…”

Vicki nods.

“Go, Grandad, she’s waiting…you mustn’t keep her waiting…”

He nods back. He turns to his wife and holds out his hand. She grabs him and pulls him into an embrace. His heart warms as he feels the sadness of the past decade fade away in a single moment. It’s almost like time has stopped yet gone back to when they were in their 20s. Full of promise, life and ambition. It was like he was young again. He pulls away, softly puts his hands on her cheek and kisses her. She smiles at him with the sweetest and smile.

“I missed you…”

“Not half as much as I missed you, girly!”

He notices his hands as he pulls them away from her cheeks. They’re not wrinkled. They look almost unfamiliar. He feels his face and can’t feel the wrinkles anymore. He can’t feel the ridges and canyons of experience. He’s young once again. He chuckles and looks at her, the biggest smile he may have ever smiled.

“Now we have eternity…”

“Then what are waiting for?”

“GRANDAD!”

They look back for a moment and see Vicki frantically trying to get Grandad, a crumpled heap on the floor in front of her, to wake up. She can’t accept he’s gone. Grandad feels sorry for her in a way but, selfishly, he’s got his girl back. His wife takes his hand and smiles at him once more.

“I love you…”

He smiles back. He's waited 10 long years to hear that from her again.

“I love you too…”

Then, somehow poetically, the vinyl finished.

Vicki sat by her grandfather’s body, processing what just happened. That was more than anyone her age should have to go through but she was glad she was with him at the end. What’s more, sad though she was she didn’t get to see her, she was glad Grandma was with him too. Guiding him to whatever was next for him. She sat alone in the now eerie house singing ‘Nothing Can Change This Love’ by Sam Cooke to herself over and over again. 

Their favourite song. 

However, she couldn’t bring herself to sing the very first line. “If I go a million miles away…” She couldn’t get over the fact that he was with her in the same room yet gone, God only knows where. She cried a little more and sat in his armchair. Singing old songs as she did, hoping he’d be proud of her for liking such tunes.

Now the armchair had seen everything.

Recipes For Disaster [Thank You To Josie]

Welcome To The Great British Fake Off

What makes a disaster in this world? Well, there are so many things and so little time. So, please allow me to get through them in verse!

Beetroot with banana

A poor, broken farmer

Spinach with kale

Palestine, Israel

Cookies and Mash

ITV's 'Splash'

Pasta and Cream

England's Footie Team

Cheese and Broccoli

A game of Monopoly

Peanut Torte

Nuclear War

Chocolate and Celery

Boris as Foreign Secretary

Pie and Ale Pudding

Another school shooting

Pepper and Flour

Donald Trump in Power

Crisp Stroganoff

NATO pissing off

A Turnip Pile

Climate Change Denial

Pike Strudel

Saville's Memorial

Fig Batter

Sepp Blatter

Orange Gravy

Tidal Wave-y

Potato Sauce

A University Maths Course

Cow Bacon

Return Of Ronald Reagan

Cooked Gazpacho

Return of Margaret Thatcher

Another Pike Strudel

A 4th High School Musical

Leek Cajun

Kim Jong-Un

Kiwi Meringue

Another President Erdogan

Roast Puma

An Isolated Cuba

Pickle Chow Mein

Trump Returns Again

Raw Chicken

Putin Kicking

Mouldy S'mores

Greece Needing More

Pond Paella

That Farage Fella

Salmon Risotto

The Pope Going Blotto

And

Pulled Pork

David Cameron

My Top 10 Self-Written Songs

This is less of an ego trip than it sounds.

So, as some of you may know, I'm a musician. I have gigged, I have busked, I have recorded and I have released my music. Well, some of them. But, as a musician, certain songs you write resonate with you more than others. You get favourites and you get songs you detest. 

So, today's post will be exploring the top 10 songs of my own that I like. From my stints in bands such as Against The Tide right through to now. And even before ATT! It's a strange list to compile but it has been fun to revisit songs written from nearly 8 years ago!

So here goes.

10: 'Burned By The Ashes'

Although I didn't write this song alone, it's still one of the most fun songs in the ATT back catalogue. I remember writing the skeleton of the song with our guitarist Tom in late 2010 and having immense fun writing it. Although the final recorded version was somewhat different to our original ideas, the song is still indicative of the sound we hoped to achieve when we started the band in 2010.

The song, detailing the apocalypse, was a theme I was very interested at the time of writing and, ideally, would've liked most of our songs to follow that theme. However, it was not to be. But it remains a particularly fond part of my memory because, when we played it, we often found ourselves smiling the most. It was a fun song to play and I just remember it really coming together well when we practised it and jammed it for the first time together.

9: 'Within Me'

Although this was originally my song to contribute to ATT, this is another one I can't claim sole credit for. I wrote this song after an ex-girlfriend broke things off with me and went off with another man a short time later. In the anger, this song came out of it. One of the more heavier songs in the ATT repertoire, it has a particularly good memory for me as it was this song, and the jump motion I always initiated during the live version, that set off a fire alarm system in a building. Well, that's what you get for 250 people jumping in one room I suppose! It's still a fond memory and, even when I listen to it, I still feel vaguely proud of it.

8: 'Morning'

As Against The Tide came to an end, I decided I wanted to start my own solo project and try and continue making music that way. This song was the entry door into that. Recorded in 2012, I wrote it at a time where 5 of my friends lost their grandparents in the space of 4 months. I wrote the song as a way of comforting them. Whether it did or not is a different issue.

While I think the vocals could've been done a lot better, it's still a special song in the fact that it was really the first song since ATT I hadn't written to be used in the band. I wrote it with the intention of it being used for myself and me alone. Which, given I'd been in the mindset of ATT for a couple of years, was a big departure. Something which, frankly, has stuck. ATT has moved on but I'm still writing and Morning was the song that kickstarted that. 

Fun fact: Morning's original title was 'Lost In The Memories Of Ourselves'. Morning sounded better.

7: 'The Last Charade'

So, 2011. The Arab Spring is over, Libya has erupted in civil war and, somewhere in England, a band is struggling to stay together and keep its identity. During this time, we were debating whether or not to start work on our first full album and, if so, what form would it take. So I tried to offer the idea of a concept album which could be based on the events of the past year in the Middle East. While the band were unsure of this, I started writing a number of songs based on this idea. The main one being, The Last Charade. I spent three days writing, recording and demoing the song's instrumental and spent 3 extra days on the lyrics. Using my newfound love of the band Dream Theater as my inspiration, the song was designed to be our Bohemian Rhapsody. A political musical odyssey. 

Sadly, not only did we not write a full album, the version of the song we ended up playing twice was radically different to my original demo. Which, frankly, made tensions in the band worse as I'd crafted each note and section for a reason. Despite this, I still love the song and wish it could be released as I'd intended it. Especially the last minute or so. I love that last minute or so. 

Fun fact: This song's working title was 'How To Design A Generation'.

6: 'Keep Calm...'

Another song I can't take sole credit for. In 2015, my cousin Adam and I spent a weekend writing, recording and producing two songs delving into each other's musical styles. He writes electronic music and I tend to write rock so we fused the two and created two songs. However, 'Keep Calm...' is the one that sticks out most. Based in a nuclear attack event, the song chronicles the calm before the storm and then the chaos that ensues after the emergency broadcast goes out to the country. Sampling a mock broadcast from YouTube (which are awesome by the way), we managed to create a story using heavy metal guitars and dubstep and I love the fact we did. 

Fun fact: I had nightmares for a week after writing this.

5: 'The Mind Is A Powerful Place...'

This song is special to me for a reason. This was a one off. I'll never perform this live and I managed to record both the guitars and vocals in one take. But the reason it's special is because this song for me was a catharsis. I had mental health problems for a few years and it was kind of hard to put into words what I was feeling or what was going on. Eventually, one day, I managed to write this and it just seemed to flow. Almost like it was meant to be written. After writing it, I suddenly felt a lot better because it felt like I could accurately describe what my head was saying and how I was feeling. It deals with hypochondria, depression, suicidal thoughts and much more so it was the perfect catharsis for me at the time. And the line: 'While I'm in control, there's no hope' is the line that pretty much defined how I felt on a near daily basis. Written from the perspective of my anxiety, it's a special song for me because now it has a voice and it now, in my head, legitimized. 

The reason I know it's a one off is because I've tried to sing and play it since and it just doesn't work. So I'm glad that this was a one-off. Otherwise it would lose its uniqueness.

4: 'Molly's Lullaby'

This tends to be most people's favourite of mine. A song about a dad serenading his daughter to sleep. Simple enough premise. However, the song comes from a much darker place. I wrote the song in June 2013 when, I can honestly say, I was at my worst mentally. I got asked to play a gig that I really didn't want to play but I did anyway as a favour for a friend. Wanting to play something new, I wrote Molly's Lullaby after having a dream where I remembered the music but not the lyrics. I wrote it, performed it and made grown men cry. Since then, when I've done live gigs, I've played it as a way of saving the show as it always seems to go down well when I play it. I recently re-recorded the song for my new EP. 

Fun fact: As a result of this song, I wanted to call my first born daughter 'Molly'. However, I've been reliably informed by my girlfriend that if we have kids together, Molly is not a name that will be considered. However, she hasn't ruled it out as a middle name...

3: 'Beautiful Psycho'

This isn't a song I've released yet but I am DESPERATE to at some stage. The only solely electronic song I've ever written. I was in a studio alone one day wanting to record a live rock song but none of the equipment worked so I ended up writing an electronic song instead and, frankly, I love it. Using elements of Pet Shop Boys' 'It's A Sin' (although I didn't know that until my cousin pointed it out to me...) it's about a person who's undergoing hardship and just wants to be loved. I can't sing it sadly but I'm hoping my cousin will so I can release it. I'm so desperate to release it. I do want people to hear it...

2: 'New'

I'm not entirely sure my girlfriend believes me when I tell her I wrote this song long before we met each other. I wrote this song back in 2015 randomly. I hadn't written a song for some time but I had the chord movements down for a while. It was only at the end of last year I put words to it and it happened to come out as a love song. It wasn't written about anyone in particular. It just came out as it did. But I like it because, even though it wasn't written about anyone, it sounds like it does. And it's always a pleasure to play because who doesn't like a love song every now and again.

My girlfriend's adopted it I think so I'm not going to complain if she applies it to our relationship...

1: 'A Losing Battle'

Now, this song is my favourite song of mine for a number of reasons. Firstly, I wrote it in under 30 minutes. Secondly, it's a song written from the perspective of addiction. Thirdly, it sounds upbeat but the lyrics are dark and for some reason this makes me happy. Fourthly, it's also my favourite guitar solo to play. I'm very happy with it. This song was originally going to be the opening track to an album all about addiction, depression and anxiety. (Provisionally titled 'Dancing With The Enemy'). Although the album never came to fruition, this song is the only recorded trace of it. (Well, that and a reprise of this song called 'A Losing Battle Won').

Maybe I'll end up making that album. Who knows. We shall see. Either way, I enjoy playing it and I still enjoy hearing it. Which, for a musician, is pretty odd tbh.

Honourable Mentions

'Eccentric Circles'

I wrote this piano song for my cousin's little girl after hearing Enter Shikari's 'Dear Future Historians'. I love that song and I thought 'what would I want to say?' So I wrote this.

'Each Night Of My Life'

I wrote this song for my two friends who got married this year. I wrote it not long after their engagement. 

'I Don't Know Yet'

Another one with my cousin. More rocky this time. Originally solely acoustic guitars to be used but the chorus didn't work acoustically. The lyrics are also supposed to be influenced by Morrissey. I love the Smiths...

And Onto July...

It's a month, but this month is slightly important.

Tomorrow is the 1st July. 7 months into 2016 and I think we can all agree that, in terms of global events, 2016 has been kind of shitty.

At present, 2016's been kind to me. (How long that'll last remains to be seen). But it means that I'm going to continue to hope that 2016 improves for everyone.

But this July is important for two reasons. One of them is important for the world and the other is a personal thing.

The world event is the 100th Anniversary of the Battle Of The Somme. The 1st of July saw the first day of one of the worst battles the world has ever seen. Millions died on all sides and it was basically a massive slaughter. But, given the 100th anniversary just happens to fall 1 week after Britain decided it wished to leave the European Union, I couldn't help but think about the two events in tandem. 100 years ago, our ancestors fought to maintain peace and stability in Europe and last week we took a decision as a country to potentially destabilise it once again.

It's interesting because it raises the question, if the European Union was around in 1914, how would people have reacted?

Admittedly, if the European Union was around in 1914 then it's possible that WWI would never have occurred. Or at least not in the form it did. But given that Europe was divided 100 years ago between two massive power factions (Great Britain/France/Russia vs Germany/Austria-Hungary/Italy), it seems strange that anyone would oppose a united Europe. Now, some might argue that we're at a similar point to 100 years ago where France and Germany dominate the politics in the European Union.

Now, this is a debate for another time. I can't be arsed to go through all the points now. I'll wait until I'm a teacher for that shit.

But my point is this.

We should remember the Somme tomorrow. It's one of the bloodiest battles in history and I haven't seen a lot to commemorate or remember it. It might get mentioned on the news but that'll probably be it. One could argue "how can you remember something as bloody as the Somme" but then someone else could argue "a one minute's silence?"

It seems somewhat disrespectful that we're effectively ignoring that battle as a country, especially as it'll be exactly 7 days since the results of the European Union Referendum showed that we'd rather leave the Union rather than remain and try to reform it from the inside. But then, with so many people saying that they're ashamed to be British given the result, is it a bad thing we're not? Is now really the time to be patriotic and remember the past as we go into a potentially bright shining new future?

And if the motives of the soldiers who spilt their blood in Belgium 100 years ago tomorrow are contrary to the motives behind the potential execution of Article 50, then maybe it's best we forget them just for tomorrow.

I've been to the Somme. Not the battle of course (I'm not that old) but I've been to a particular area of the Somme where a number of Canadian Regiments went over the top. (And because France allowed the Canadians to keep that land and call it their own, technically I've been to Canada). Nowadays, it's covered in grass with walkways that tourists can walk along and statues commemorating the soldiers who died on that piece of land. But it's also got small cemeteries dotted around it too.

Now, I consider myself lucky to have gone to the Somme when I did (it was a school trip in 2010) because a couple of strange things happened during our visit there.

Firstly, the gap between the Canadian and German trenches were STUPIDLY CLOSER THAN PEOPLE THINK. They were absurdly close! You assume it'll be quite far away but, no, they were SO close.

Secondly, it was almost like you could feel the soldiers running around you. It was a very odd sensation it felt like the soldiers were running around us getting ready to go over the top. And that's when we all kind of realised that people our age fought. When you hear it in a classroom it's just a statistic. But when you're actually where they were, you suddenly start to picture yourself in that scenario because people your age were in that situation. It makes it real. You also realise you might be standing on a spot where someone was killed. Or hid. Or waited to go over. It's such a strange emotion when you're there and come to these conclusions. You suddenly feel a connection to the past like you can't get by sitting in a classroom watching a PowerPoint presentation.

So please spare a thought tomorrow. I'm off to Winchester Hat Fair tomorrow and, while it'll seem weird knowing a huge historical event happened 100 years prior but you need to only make a small reflection. Don't let it consume the day!

Meanwhile, in my personal life, I need to find a job.

I have a house.

I'm about to graduate.

I have a number of good incentives to remain in the area where I am (including a certain someone).

All I need now is a job.

And July is the make or break time!

It's also my birthday month. And I have some pretty awesome plans for my birthday week!

But I shan't say. That'd be telling...


Until next time!

The Late June Post Just To Show I Was Still Writing This Blog

Hi.

June happened.

A lot of things happened in June.

In my life and in the world in general.

Although so much happened that I actually haven't had anything worth ranting or writing about this month.

Although I did get a 2:1 in my degree. That's literally I can think to write of.

Until next time.

See ya!

My Worst Fear

To show how vulnerable I am, this is the worst time of my life. Please read this with that in mind.

Yesterday and today, I've been trying to suppress an anxiety attack. Now that I'm back in my bedroom I'm in a prime position to stop trying to suppress it and just let it happen. Because, maybe that way, it will just stop for a while and I can concentrate on the better things. Like tomorrow, where I'm seeing someone who makes me happy and thursday when my final uni exam will be over and I'll have officially finished a degree.

As long as I've had this blog, I've tried very hard to avoid the topic of my anxiety and how it manifests inside of me for two reasons. Firstly, I don't want anyone to think I'm utterly crazy and, secondly, this blog was formed because of the anxiety so I felt it never needed to be said. However, of late, my anxiety has been getting worse. And a few people now have suggested it might be time to go to the doctors again to get it more seriously looked at. Even though I have done in the past and nothing's been done about it.

So maybe by just being honest with myself and writing it down in black and white might make it better short term. Or it could inspire others to share their stories. I don't know to be honest. But let's give it a go anyway.

I've always had social anxiety, I'm on the Autistic Spectrum, it kind of comes with the territory. But the form of anxiety I have is something different. When I start to get anxiety in this way, here's what usually happens to me.

• I become a little bit harder to talk to. I might become more subdued or unintentionally passive aggressive.
• I'll become more isolated. I won't appreciate being touched or any kind of physical contact unless I give complete consent to do it. Or if there's someone in particular I crave a hug from.
• I'll become much harder to reason with. 
• I'll become visibly more paranoid about little things.

This might be normal, I'm not sure. But this is what it does for me. I almost become one step closer to becoming a completely different person. This is nothing new for me however. In fact, it something I've grown sadly used to of late. The joys of having an over-analytical mind.

Although I've only been getting physical anxiety and panic attacks for about a year now, this anxious mindset actually started 3 years ago.

3 years ago, I was not in a good place. I'd left one university and was starting to wonder whether it was the right decision, the wait to go to my current university was also stressing me out, I had a job I hated and left due to bullying, I was in a job that didn't have consistent hours, my friends were going through exams so I didn't have much contact with them and, then, to top it all off, there was a girl I liked. 

The long and short of that story is I liked someone, I was led to believe the feelings were reciprocated but just as I was admitting my feelings to her, the mutual friend who had suggested the feelings were reciprocated admitted that she'd got it wrong and they she did not feel the same way. After realising I'd kind of been accidentally duped, and with everything else that had been going on and my general outlook at that point, I snapped. I broke.

Someone once said to me that if I carried too much of a weight, one day it'll have to give. She was right. June 2013 is a time I don't like to revisit because I felt so shitty, so anxious and so depressed that I did some rather stupid things and made some rather bad decisions. Some of them I nearly didn't come back from. One thing my Mum said to me about that time was she phoned my aunty and told her "I've lost my son, I don't know who he is anymore..." That's how bad it got.

That's when it started. Luckily, I managed to find my lights at the end of the tunnel. The first thing was I resumed my voluntary placement at a local institution. This helped me take my mind off things immensely. The second thing was a song I wrote called 'Molly's Lullaby'. Now, some people ask me now whether it's called that due to the drug 'Molly' that I might've been taking at the time. (I've never taken drugs. I've second hand inhaled once but that's it). It's actually about a dream I had about my future daughter who refused to go to sleep until I sang the song to her. When I woke up, I remembered the music but not the words. So I rewrote them. People seem to like the song so, when you're in that kind of state, it's a good incentive to not do anything stupid. And have a daughter called Molly.

While this is the case, that month in 2013 has affected every aspect of my life since. Because there's a still something left over from then, even now. And this is the bit where it sounds like I might be crazy.

There's no easy way to say it so I'll say it. Sometimes, I can hear my own voice in my head and it says nothing but negative things. It tells me how worthless I am, how certain situations are actually falling apart when it seems apparent they're not and says things about people close to me that try to convince me that they don't actually care and they'd rather I wasn't around.

This is how my anxiety manifests. My own voice saying all these things. It's not loud, it's not even angry, it's just a calm voice telling me everything that's wrong with me and tries to convince me I'm a terrible human being. How I've hurt people when I obviously haven't, looking at past events and making me think the worst and telling me how certain people are lying to me about how they feel about me.

Sometimes, I end up believing it for a short time. But then something will happen to prove it wrong and it goes away for a while.

The voice reappeared yesterday. I'm not going to go into why because it's a very personal issue and I need to work through it myself because I'm 97% sure that what's happening is all in my head and everything's actually fine. However, it's been there since June 2013. It doesn't happen often. It just comes at time of great stress or great happiness. Which sucks. Majorly.

Recently, I've become a lot happier. A few people know why and that's what's annoying. Because I know that if I keep letting it talk me into thinking something's wrong then everyone involved will be caught in the crossfire and, trust me, I do not want this person getting caught up in this. Because, not only do I not want people to see this version of me if I can avoid it, but I have a habit of being somewhat self-destructive in this state and I cannot afford to let anyone see me like that. I'm obviously open to them knowing this is what happens with me but I really don't want them to get caught up in the eye of the storm so to speak.

So that's the Catch-22. There's nothing anyone can really do and then I can't afford the people I care about the most to see me in that state. Because I am ashamed of it. I probably shouldn't be but I am. It's probably because I know more about what happened than I'm prepared to admit on this but it's also because I feel like I shouldn't be having these thoughts. When they come during great stress, that makes more sense. But when I'm happy? That shouldn't be allowed. At present, I'm the happiest I've been in a long time and this has no right to come and spoil it. But the more I refuse to let it, the more intense it gets.

The reason this post is called 'My Worst Fear' is because, above all else, that's what scares me most. The version of me in June 2013. And I'm very scared that one day I'll become that person again. And I really don't want to. But that's the thing. I know that there's always the capacity for that to happen and that's what scares me more than anything. And within that, I'm most scared of losing someone I care about because of this. Which I suppose is always a possible situation that could happen. I sincerely hope it doesn't.

I think it's starting to shut up now that I've explained it on here. But I have no idea for how long that's going to last. Could be a day, could be a month. 

I do have coping strategies but they don't always work. So, this time, this is my latest attempt to help myself. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow's always better, right?

Thank you for watching and if you're going through anything similar, just remember this: You don't need to be controlled by who you were in the past. That version of you is dead and buried. The person you are now is what's important. That's the person to focus on. Not the person you were yesterday.

I know that sounds cliched but I genuinely cannot think of a better way to end this rather heavy reading. 

Hope you all have a lovely rest of your day. I know I'll try to.

Anti-Vaxxers, Prejudice and the Diversity of the Autistic Spectrum

I've been waiting some time to take on Anti-Vaxxers.

In March 2015, I wrote quite a scathing post called 'Autistic Spectrum Disorders and the Battle of Egos' which chronicled my experiences with different ASD groups on Facebook and the like and how politicized some people on these groups make Autism when it really shouldn't be. You can read it here if you so wish: http://joshuaframptonwritersblock.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/autistic-spectrum-disorders-and-battle.html

Since then, I haven't really had much to do with these groups as I got frankly sick of the infighting. Especially when there's much bigger fish to fry in the world of Autism and in general. That said, that doesn't mean I don't entirely disagree with everything they say. And I find myself, as I get older, that I'm starting to see their point of view.

Of late, I've heard a number of stories coming from New Zealand about people being discriminated against, in part, because they have a form of Autism. Now, I haven't done enough research into the state of Autism in New Zealand in order to form a proper criticism, So, if these stories are as widespread as it appears to be, then that's a huge problem.

April was Autism Awareness Month and it appears that, this year, some people didn't get the memo or the point of it. If what the stories coming out of New Zealand suggest are true then that's one problem, but then you get some idiots like 50 Cent who belittled someone because he thought they were on drugs. Now, it seems he didn't know this young man had ASD but, even so, you don't just go up to someone and point something like that out, ASD or Neurotypical, that isn't right. (The fact he donated money to Autism Speaks in order to try and repair his mistake is a different blog for a later date).

Recently, a friend of mine who is LGBT+, said to me recently in a fit of rage:

"You don't know what it's like to be a member of an oppressed group constantly out to get you".

Not strictly true, generally speaking.

Now, while I admit I've often been called 'gay' or 'queer' because of the way I act, I've never been persecuted for my pansexuality. But I have, in the past, been the victim of bullying and prejudice because of my Aspergers. So I have some idea. Especially when you look at what happens to some people with ASD across the world.

In the UK, we're comparatively lucky that the worst that people with ASD will face in everyday life is bullying like I went through. (I know that sounds strange but hear me out). Obviously, I don't want anyone to be persecuted for anything about them but it does happen. Numerous times I've been told I need to be 'cured', that I'm a 'zombie' and that I'm a 'fucked up robot' to name but a few. But when I see children in America being subjected to CHLORINE ENEMAS in order to 'cure' them of their Autism, I kind of feel like I got off easy. Because, even though growing up with ASD is hard, my mum had the wonderful sense not to shove a chemical stick up my arse and traumatise me further.

And anti-vaxxers. OH ANTI-VAXXERS. The people, now with some celebrity backers (here's looking at you Robert DeNiro), who like to claim and maintain (despite MULTIPLE scientific papers to the contrary) that vaccines such as MMR and others 'cause' Autism. And they refuse to get their children vaccinated against horrible diseases such as measles and others in case they 'contract' Autism from the jabs.

Are you fucking kidding me?

This annoys me on 2 fundamental levels.

One of them is the blaringly obvious: Autism is not caused by vaccines. Because diseases are contracted. And Autism is not a disease.

Secondly, I've come to the conclusion as I get much older and grumpy (as a particular person in my life makes no secret of reminding me) that if you are a parent who will not vaccinate their child against really horrible and sometimes deadly diseases in case they 'contract' Autism, then you are a terrible parent.

Because, at the most basic of levels, you are basically saying you would rather your child die than have Autism. And what kind of message does that send out? And how distorted is your view of Autism in order to bring you to that conclusion!?

When was the last time you heard someone say "Oh, it's awful, Jerry's in hospital again for his Autism" or, "Oh, what's Jenny being treated for today?" "Autism". I don't believe you have.

It, and you, are ridiculous.

But, as with everything related to prejudice, it comes down to a lack of education about Autism and Autistic Spectrum Disorders. Most people tend to get their knowledge of things either from school, television or the internet these days. And, for the most part, it's only the extremes of things that get pointed out in this.

In school; I was outed as having Aspergers after we started reading 'The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-Time' by Mark Haddon, and one particular classmate of mine pointed out some similarities between myself and the main character, Christopher.

On television; you see shows like The A Word or The Big Bang Theory take on ASD and films such as Rain Man (as a side note, I adore Dustin Hoffman's portrayal in that film) presenting one view of ASD. And most people probably assume that most people Autism or ASD are like Rain Man. But this isn't the case.

There's a reason it's called the Autistic Spectrum. It's not the Autistic Deadlock or something! It's a spectrum with many wonderful individuals in them. Here are some famous/popular examples.

- Dr Temple Grandin (one of my personal heroes). She has Autism and, after spending some time on her aunt's farm, designed a device that would allow people with Autism to have hugs but without the stress of human contact. (Typical to 1950s/1960s America, her initial prototypes were destroyed by her university because they were under the impression it was a device for sexual purposes. I mean, I know it wasn't but god forbid a woman has a sex life!) Since then, she has made many significant contributions to the understanding and research of Autism. If I get to meet Temple Grandin one day, I will die a happy man.

- Carly Fleischmann. A 21 year old female who has ASD, is non-verbal and is slowly becoming one of my favourite people on Planet Earth. However, she has recently become recognised across social media for her contributions to the understanding of Autism and, specifically, females with Autism. She has her own website called 'Carly's Voice' (which you can find here: http://carlysvoice.com/home/ ). Not only has she become fairly popular on social media, she's also become the envy of many women after she snagged the chance to interview Hollywood dream Channing Tatum. (If you get the chance to watch the interview, do. It's hilarious!)

- Dan Ackroyd. Actor who is famously in Ghostbusters.Yup. He's Autistic!

- Chris Packham. Presenter and Naturist. Most famous for hosting Springwatch. Yup. He was diagnosed with Aspergers in his 20s.

The truth is, there's no uniform thing for Autism. Even the signs and symptoms of ASD can fluctuate. And its severity can fluctuate too. I have Aspergers and I'm a complete nutter who doesn't really have a stop button (although I'm starting to realise with help that I might do after all) yet I also a know a wonderful young man who is non-verbal but continually makes me cry with the insight that he has about the world.

I've been very lucky recently in the fact I've been able to meet more people with ASD and really explore the diversity of the very thing I myself have grown up with. All of them are wonderful and unique. One or two of them have even challenged everything I thought I knew about certain aspects of ASD too. Not only that, I have someone in New Zealand with ASD who I also consider to be a good friend, one of my best for all intents and purposes.

So when I spend time with these people, I can't help but think of anti-vaxxers and think how bat-shit crazy they are. And why their logic is completely messed up. If their argument was about the chemicals and potential toxins in some vaccines then that'd be fair. But it's not just that with a large proportion of them.

I can't believe I have to say this time and time again.

Autism is NOT a disease. It is NOT curable and it is NOT something that can be washed away. When I was younger, I'd have given anything to be rid of my Aspergers. But I can't. And now I don't want to. In the words of someone I used to work with:

"If I didn't have my ASD I wouldn't be interesting. And, let's face it Josh, normal people are boring!"

Enough said.

So what does that mean about the politics of Autism? Well, it should not be politicized. It shouldn't be politicized at all. But sadly some people are making it political. So what's the solution? Take on the people making it political and prevent it from moving forward as such. No one would accept the politicization of bipolar, schizophrenia or others the way Autism appears to be becoming politicized. So why stand by and let Autism suffer that fate? It doesn't even have to be a radical approach. Just become aware of Autism, learn to accept Autism for what it is and the people who have it and just leave us be. We don't want prejudice, no one does. So why give it?

Anyway, until next time.