Reasons #2 & Me In My Twenties!! & Hello!

Hi guys,

I knew my sister-in-law hadn't been happy with my brother for some time but recently she just ups and leaves for two days. My poor nieces (10 & 13) were in a right old state, as you can imagine. So, she comes back home and tells Dick that she doesn't love him anymore and she's felt like it for ages. First she says she's moving out with the girls, but the girls wanted to stay with Dick (not her) so things got nasty... lots of shouting and screaming, she got a bit violent, the girls were crying at night and before school etc.

So, eventually Dick says to me "you might have to move out, she's not settled here yet and I don't think it's helping with you living here!" and that he would probably have to move out too. Ok, so I was like livid now. Here I am, I'd given up everything (and they knew it) including my furniture which they're using and didn't even say "thanks!" for and I've got to move to... where? With what ffs!

Anyway, the day after that little episode, my s-i-l says to me that no matter what happens between her and Dick I am welcome to stay here, as agreed, and that she has never had a problem with me being here. Then Dick tells me later that he told her to apologise to me for what had happened and that I shouldn't be asked to leave, none of it was my fault and I'd given up enough already.

It's all "happy families" again now anyway, they're like a loved-up teenage couple. It's a bit sickening sometimes. Haha!

With everything else that's been getting me down there's also Razz too. He keeps popping into my head at the oddest times. Lol! Then I start thinking about him and I get upset and more depressed.


Ok, so there are new blogs I'm following (as I pointed out in my last post), and they are:
I've Got Rythym and It ain't always music. This one's by 18 year old Matt from Utah, USA.

Then there's 16 year old AJ. He's bi with a leaning towards gay and his blog is called coming out (on the net).

Also, a big welcome to my latest follower Ben, from Confessions of a Poor Student blog.

You've probably already visited these blogs, but if you haven't please stop by for a read and leave a comment (or two. haha!). Also, please don't forget to visit Deejohn at the brilliant westasian site. Just take a look at this beautiful young guy and tell me it's not worth taking a look! He's from one of today's posts:

Simon from Scoop. Taken from westasian.

Oh shit, I said I might post some photos of me in my twenties but am I going to look like a freak next to the gorgeous Simon or what!! Oh well, here goes nothing...

Age 21. A Passport photo for a day trip to France.

Age 25 or 26 I think. Another Passport photo but I can't remember why! And just look at that receding hairline. Haha!!!

Ok, that's all for now guys. I hope you're all having a great week!

Take care,

Col

Reasons #1 & Me As A Nipper!

Hi guys,

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, so have you missed me? Yeah right!! You're probably thinking more like "Oh crap! The little bugger's back... I thought he'd gone for good!" Lol!

So yeah, I've been absent for a while but hopefully I'm back (for now at least. Haha!), and slowly catching up on all your blogs. So, forgive me if I haven't commented for a while.

If you read this blog regularly you'll know that I made a promise to myself to not use this to whinge and moan about stuff when many of you have troubles that are far more serious than my own petty things. Well, I'm not going to moan but I will briefly ( I don't do briefly do I?) tell you what the reasons for my absence were:

Still not being able to find a job was really getting me down. Even though I've been doing my volunteer work it still wasn't enough, I wanted full-time paid employment. Also, not getting any response from employers when you apply for jobs is just an expectation now, but I was (and still am) getting really pissed-off with employers who don't even get back to you when you've attended an interview! Anyway, I have applied for all types of jobs... just so I have a job, any job. Sadly for me though, that means some of them are minimum wage and it will take me a lot longer to save for Spain. I've applied mainly for Retail Store Manager vacancies, some Deputy Manager vacancies and some minimum wage jobs like Assistant Van Driver for a local charity and Sales Assistants jobs.

I had a huge row with my brother Dick (not his real name btw. Lol) because he said I should be applying for anything, regardless of the salary. I thought I knew why he was saying it (because he wanted me to save my money as quickly as possible so I would move out sooner than agreed) and confronted him about it. He said "Yes! This is our home now and we'd like it to ourselves!" Anyway, to cut a long story short: that got sorted out.

Ok, I'll leave it there for today. There's more but I don't want to bore you too much in one post. Haha!

I've posted some photos of me from when I was a nipper, next time I may post a few from my twenties. I don't have many photos of me at all, I've always detested having to have them done so if I can get out of them I will. Lol!

There are some new blogs in my "other blogs I follow" list btw. If you haven't checked them out already... please be so kind as to do so :)

So, on to the photos then *cringes*

That's me on the right. Lol!

Me on the right again.

Right, I'm on the left this time.

Now you see why I hated having my photo taken. Eek!!

Hmm, don't know what the white blob on my nose is, but it's a stain on the photo and not a lump of snot! Haha!

Thanks for reading guys!

Take care all,

Col

Sexually Abused! (Part Two)

So, after Peter and I showered that evening we joined the volunteers in the dining tent and listened to a guy play the guitar. If we knew the words to the songs we'd join in. It was great fun. Lol.

Bedtime soon came.
Dom, Peter and I were sharing a tent and Dom laid his sleeping bag out in the middle, so we had to sleep either side of him.
It was horrible getting undressed and into our pyjamas in front of Dom, and he wasn't exactly shy about getting undressed in front of us!

Anyway, I can't remember what time it was when I awoke, but I know it was early morning...around 6.00am(ish) because it was quite light.
So, I was laying on my left side (my favourite position) in my sleeping bag, having a wonderful sexy dream. I was being wanked off and it was fantastic, so realistic. It was slow and tender, not rushed.
The next thing I remember was hearing "Are you awake Col?" I thought I was still dreaming so I didn't answer. Lol.
Then I heard, right up close to my ear "Oh yes, he's awake!" and I fucking jumped out of my skin. It was Dom. He was on his side, his face so close to mine, and his right arm was still inside my sleeping bag...still wanking me off!!

It was obviously Peter who had asked if I was awake, having seen what Dom was doing.
I was confused and shocked, I didn't know what to say or do...shout at him? Cry? Turn over and pretend to be asleep? I didn't know!

It must have only been seconds later that I just pulled Dom's hand away and said something like "Yeah, I'm awake now!"
I got out of my bag, grabbed my clothes and trainers, said I was going to take a shower and left the tent, without looking at either of them. I was headed towards the showers when Peter ran up behind me, with his clothes in his hands, and asked me if I was alright. I knew I had tears in my eyes when I said I was okay but I managed to hold back the full flow.

He didn't say anything else and I was grateful for that. I didn't say anything to him either, we never spoke about it again, but I often wondered why was he awake so early? Had Dom "played" with him too?

Anyway, we headed to the showers and luckily Peter had thought to grab his toiletries bag and a towel. I hadn't, I'd just wanted to get out of the tent as quick as possible. Lol.
It was bloody cold that early in the morning, and it didn't help trying to dry myself on Peter's wet towel either, but I felt better already. I just used my finger and his toothpaste to clean my teeth because I didn't want to go back to the tent.

When I eventually plucked up the courage to face Dom again I said I wanted to sleep in the same tent as my brother Tom for the rest of the week. He would be arriving later that day. He didn't try to change my mind, maybe he felt guilty? Maybe he was afraid I would tell somebody about what he'd done? Again, I don't know!
Tom knew that something was wrong with me shortly after arriving, but I just told him I'd had a headache all day because I was tired.

I enjoyed the rest of the holiday very much, and made some good friends for a short time anyway.

When I returned home I did cry about it in private. I couldn't tell my parents, especially my dad. I thought, and felt, that people would think it was all my fault, that I couldn't have really been asleep and so I knew what was happening. That in turn made me feel guilty...maybe I did really know, but I was enjoying it and didn't want to admit it to myself! That made me feel really disgusted with myself. Maybe I gave Dom some signals which he just reacted to, so I deserved it?

I rarely even think about it now unless either of two things triggers the memory:

1...I hear the song "I Feel Love" by Donna Summer. I heard that song so much whilst on that holiday.

2...When people talk about Elvis dying. He died about a week after I got back home.


I would say this to anybody who has been abused, whether it's sexually, physically or mentally...

...talk to somebody, anybody, but do it! Don't feel guilty, you are the victim and the abuser deserves to be, and should be punished. There are freephone helplines and the Samaritans, if you want to remain anonymous...but speak out regardless, do not suffer in silence. You are not alone.

My "cyber" door is always open to anybody who wants to talk or email, and I know the same can be said for many of my fellow bloggers.

I've decided not to post any humour today. I don't think it would be appropriate, sorry!


Take care everyone!

Col

Sexually Abused! (Part One)

Hi guys,

Thanks to everybody who has been reading, commenting on, and following my blog. I'm really quite amazed at the response to the poll too, in terms of the amount of voters. I thought I'd be lucky to get ten in the fortnight. I was also amazed at the age range; I know that not all teenagers are crazy about sex, but will they read the more serious posts? I'll just have to wait and see I guess. Lol.

There are only nine days left on the polls, so please:

VOTE! vote! VOTE! vote! VOTE! vote! VOTE! vote! VOTE!

So on to today's topic...I have never, ever told this to anybody. The only people who know (unless they told others) are me, Peter, and the Dirty Old Man (Dom), and he's probably dead now anyway. I'll give you some background information so you know how I knew 'Dom', but I'll be as brief as I can (hehe, me and brief just doesn't work).

In 1977, when Peter and I were just thirteen years old, we decided to enter a talent competition at our local youth centre. If we won we would go to the next stage and compete at the local Theatre. Well, we won (yippee!). Then we won the next competition and was invited to do three acts in The Town Show. This was an annual event where the acts were mostly Cub Scouts, though I'd never heard of it, and one of the organisers was 'Dom'.

To cut a long story short; after the show he asked us if we would mind performing our acts in some old age pensioners homes, you know like community homes. Our parents agreed to this and so we saw quite a lot of him in the following months. My brother Tom would have to tag along too sometimes, my dad insisted, but after a while I didn't really mind.

Now 'Dom' was at least sixty-five, probably more by my reckoning, and had to walk with the aid of a stick because of an old war wound...seriously! But, his youngest child, a son, was only about seventeen. He gave me the creeps more than 'Dom' did, he looked evil with his thick, black, greasy hair and the beginnings of a moustache. The way he looked at me really scared me. Facially, he reminded me a bit of Hitler...but his eyes were just...EVIL!!!

It wasn't long before 'Dom' started to show some "affection". He would cuddle us, or try to anyway, it was gross. Then he started "play fighting" with us, but he couldn't really move around because of his leg, so he would just grab hold of you around the waist or chest instead. While he had you in his grasp his free hand would keep clenching on your leg, above the knee, and end up at your upper thigh. His grip on you was strong but his balance was another matter, so he never had a hold of you for long...thank fuck!

'Dom' also volunteered (well I doubt he was paid, but?) for an organisation that helped under-privileged children by arranging camping holidays for them. As Peter was from a one-parent family, and my family was piss-poor, he asked our parents if they wanted to apply for us (Tom included).

They were successful and the next thing I know we were off to Danbury. The only people to go on the first day and night would be the volunteers, Peter and I. This was because (allegedly) he wanted us to help out with cooking and organising the others when they arrived, so he needed to fill us in on H&S etc. Tom would be picked up and arrive with all the others the next afternoon.

I can't remember how many volunteers there were, but they were male and female and mixed ages. I do remember one of them (Steve) was really fucking sexy. He was 18-19, blonde crew-cut hair, muscular and very cute. Everybody, and I mean everybody, wanted to be in his tent!

Steve's cousin was there too. He was around 15-16, slim (but not skinny), blonde hair again but quite long and straight, blue eyes and a really gorgeous smile.

Now what did I say near the beginning about "me and brief just doesn't work"?

I know I shouldn't keep apologising about my post length (about 6.25" if you really want to know, hehe), but I just don't seem to be able to get to the point, quickly. Lol.

It may be because I like to know everything when I read something, so that's how I write too. I don't know so you'll have to put up with it I'm afraid.

In Part Two: The Dirty Deed...How I Felt About It Then...What I Feel Now.

Depending on the length, I may be able to fit in a joke or two also.

Thanks for reading!

Take good care of yourself,

Col

...Sex With My Buddies - Peter

Post 2 of 2 for Friday 19th December

First, let me just say that the "sex buddies" I'll be writing about were actually my best friends at the time. We went to school together, and hung out after school together. We played and we partied, and we "enjoyed" each others company. One of them is still a great friend today.

Going up to senior school was frightening for me, especially after hearing all about the alleged initiation ceremonies that we were going to be put through lol, and the thought of having to make new friends was scarier than anything else.

As you know by now, I was (and still am) extremely shy so my first three or four weeks there were quite traumatic, I just kept to myself all the time; in form class, lessons, every break time...I was so lonely and when I got home, and actually found some privacy, I would cry. I remember saying to myself a lot; "I wish I was dead, I hate it!"
I knew I couldn't talk to my parents so I suffered in silence and wondered if any of the other kids were feeling the same, or was it just me?

Peter...

...was completely the opposite of me; he was very outgoing and confident and within a couple of weeks he was one of the most popular kids in class. Why he chose me as a friend I'll never know, maybe he felt sorry for me lol.

He wasn't particularly cute, not to me anyway, he had this really unruly mop of dark, curly, wiry hair which I later discovered was a feature he shared with his beloved dogs lol.
He did have a cute and cheeky smile though. His nose was a little pointed and his eyes were hazel. He was considerably taller than me, but then it would be difficult not to be. His body was nice, very slim but not skinny. He wasn't from the area either so he had a 'country yokel' accent which was actually quite nice.

As for me, I was obviously shorter than him but I was the same kind of build. I had blonde hair and blue eyes.

About ten or eleven weeks into the term Peter and I were playing in a park after school, it wasn't the best park around but it was quieter than the others, it was November so it was cold too. We'd just finished doing something, I can't remember what exactly, when he just asks me "Col, can I suck your knob?"...lol yeah "knob", that was the 'In' word way back then.
Well, I was like speechless (for about two seconds lol) and then I asked him "Can I suck yours after?" He just gave me his best cheeky grin and said "Yeah! If you want to."

So, we found a private(ish) place in between some shrubs, against a tall wooden fence. The trouble was; whoever was blowing wouldn't be seen because they'd be squatting down, but, whoever was being blown would be seen...from the waist up anyway. So it was really scary but all the more exciting for that lol. It's a good job the park was virtually deserted by now, and it was dark too (luckily).

I let Peter unzip my fly, unbutton my jeans and pull down my pants. I was crapping myself now and I was still soft, I guess it was nerves or something, and it didn't help that it was cold either...if you get my meaning. I developed early so I wasn't ashamed of my penis size, and I had a nice little bush of soft pubes too.

Anyway, he suddenly asked "Are you ready?" and I couldn't help it...I just burst out laughing (those damned nerves again). That made him laugh too and he had to wait for a bit to re-compose himself.
All of a sudden I felt the warmth of his mouth enclose my penis and I sighed with pleasure. I was hard almost instantaneously. It felt good so good, especially as my butt and balls were freezing by now lol. Then he started working his mouth up and down it, gently at first, although softly would be a better description because his lips were hardly touching me.

I asked him to suck it harder and I guess he knew what I meant because his lips tightened over my penis. Now as his head was going back and forth my foreskin was too.
I'd never felt any sensation like this, ever! Sure I'd been wanking for ages, but there was no comparison between these two completely different sensations.
After about a minute I told Peter to stop, it was his turn now.

We reversed positions and I was really dreading it, I loved it being done to me but what if I didn't like doing it to him? What if he didn't like me doing it to him? There was only one way to find out! After unzipping him and pulling down his pants, just to below his balls, I took his knob in my mouth. He was soft at the time too, but as soon as I started on him it began to harden straight away. From what I could see in the dark, he had a lovely cock and a nice bush. He was uncut too and had a nice scrotum. I didn't know it at the time, but I would see his entire body "up close and personal", and do stuff with him in the days, weeks and months to come that would confirm to me that I was gay.

Seeing as I liked it with his lips gripping firmer that's what I did to him from the start. It sounded like he enjoyed it as much as I did lol, and he put his hand to the back of my head and gently kept pushing it whenever my head went forward on his penis. He stopped me after about a minute too and pulled up his trousers.

We spoke about what had happened, how we felt, we said to each other that we weren't queer, and we agreed we were going to do it again tomorrow...only this time it would be somewhere less public.

I was worried when I got to school the next day in case it had changed our friendship, but Peter was fine. At lunch time I asked him if he'd changed his mind or if we were still going to suck each other off tonight. He grinned that cheeky grin and just said "Oh yeah! Definitely!", and we laughed. I came to love that cheeky little grin of his lol.

We actually did a lot of stuff (except anal) after that, in all kinds of places too, but if you want to hear more about Peter and I, and my other schoolboy "sex buddies" you'll have to stay tuned.

This blog is not going to turn into a pornographic story blog, not at all, but the relationships with four of my best friends were a huge part of my life between the ages of twelve and sixteen.

So, if you don't want to read anymore about that stuff then please don't read and posts entitled "Sex With My Buddies"

I even got myself trapped into having "straight" sex, and if I hadn't already known I was gay...that would've convinced me lol! More about in the future, it starts of with two guys and one girl but...

To those of you that do want to hear more;

Please be so kind as to comment.

I hope you enjoyed the post!

Take care,
Col

Schoolboy Crushes...

Post 1 of 2 for Friday 19th December

My first real crush, well the first one that left me devastated and in tears, was actually for my teacher in the third year of junior school so I was aged about nine or ten. He could only have been in his mid twenties at the most, and he was by far the cutest and sexiest teacher in the school.

I don't think it was a sexual thing because I don't remember fantasising about that sort of stuff. However, I do remember lots of stuff about him like; he had no hair on his arms and he had a habit of clenching his fists, so you could see his muscles working on his forearms. He was quite muscular and looked really fit. He had short dark hair with brown eyes and a roman nose lol.

His smile was wide and cheeky and when he laughed he looked even younger. He had a deep, throaty voice which I didn't think matched his face, but you can't have everything lol!

He took over as choir master from the aged old lady that had done it since the year dot, so I joined the choir just so I could see more of him. He was really passionate about music and singing and when he got really worked up you could see these white globules of spittle at the corners of his mouth...not pretty lol. One problem he did have was that his feet really stank, it would waft out from his shoes and if you were too close for too long it was a bit urgh! It didn't stop me from getting close though lol.

More than anything else, he was passionate about teaching and was always kind, gentle, considerate, caring and funny. It was obvious that he loved teaching and kids. I really looked up to him, I guess he was more of a role model to me than anything else (something I never had then, or after), and I wanted to grow up to be just like him.

After my year with him was up, and even though I knew I'd still see him from time to time around the school, I cried for ages (in private of course). I loved him so much that I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing him everyday at school. I even prayed to God and asked that he would replace my father with my teacher.

He took up the post of Deputy Head in another school before my final year was up, and I never saw him again.

Today's second post is about the beginning of my first gay relationship at school...check it out!

Thanks guys,
Col

I knew I was gay from the age of...

...Twelve!

I'd done all the usual stuff with girls that young boys do by that age, you know the stuff...kiss chase, you show me yours and I'll show you mine etc...
...but I always enjoyed that kind of thing with the boys more than I did with the girls (never played kiss chase with the boys though, damn it!! lol)

Most of my friends then were my neighbours and the majority of them were around the same age so there was a lot of "comparing" that went on, and a lot of wishing and questioning too lol..."Wow, I wish mine was that big!" or "Will mine be that big when I'm 9/10 (or whatever)?"

Comparisons were made between soft and hard, but it was difficult to stay soft long enough to make a comparison sometimes :)

The best thing was when we all went swimming as a group, man I loved those times, no cubicles back then...just one huge communal changing room. I loved seeing all those naked boys running around trying to flick each other with their towels, or, just discreetly looking at a particularly good looking boy while he dried himself off.
I didn't actually like swimming and I still don't, in fact I'm a very poor swimmer still today. But, it was all about the boys for me...nothing else!
I was never really confused about how I felt but I knew it wasn't normal, and like many others I had nobody to talk too and no Internet in those days anyway, so I accepted my feelings very early in life.
I have certainly never felt any guilt or shame with regard to being gay so I guess that maybe I've had it pretty easy compared to some people.
"So why didn't you 'come out' when you were younger?" you may be asking...that will be answered in a future post so stay tuned to this blog lol.

So, I knew I was definitely gay at the age of twelve because that's when I had my first gay sexual experience/relationship and I knew there and then that my feelings for boys were true...stay tuned for that too!

Seeing as this has been about age I thought I'd share the following joke/story with you. It's about being much older but it made me laugh, and I hope it makes you laugh too...

...Do I look that old?

Have you ever been guilty of looking at others your own age and thinking; 'Surely I can't look that old?'
Well, my name is Jake Smith and I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist when I noticed his DDS Diploma, which bore his full name.
Suddenly I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class some forty-odd years ago.

Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on way back then, I wondered?

Upon seeing him however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, grey-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate!

After he examined my teeth I asked him if he had attended Morgan Park High School.
'Yes, yes I did. I'm a Mustang!' he gleamed with pride.
'When did you graduate?' I asked.
'In 1965. Why do you ask?' was his reply.
'You were in my class!' I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely.

Then that ugly, old, bald-headed, wrinkled, fat ass, grey-haired, decrepit son-of-a-bitch asked; 'What did you teach?'

Until next time then!

Take care,
Col

Sibling rivalry & Fighting for affection - Part 1

According to my mum, I was a wonderful baby lol. I rarely cried, I would just eat, sleep and giggle...even when I was ill. Apparently I had a huge appetite too, I used to eat three Weetabix at a time, but I could shit through the eye of a needle after lol...and in those days it was all "terry" nappies/diapers so she had to wash them all...sorry mum!


Anyway, there's only 11 months between Tom and I and he was always a little shit according to mum. We used to share this double pram and when the hoods were up my mum could hear us, but not see us. On more than one ocassion she would wonder why we were so quiet and look in on us. There would be Tom with his finger nails planted firmly in both my cheeks and me just sitting there, not making a sound.


She reckons that as soon as she said something like: "Oh darling, are you alright?" my bottom lip would quiver and then I'd start to cry, but until that moment I'd just silently let him do it...omg I was such a pussy back then lol.


She also thinks that Tom was jealous of the attention she gave me, because I was no trouble, and that was one of his reactions to it...it's possible I suppose.


So, to things that I actually remember; I guess I was about 5 years old and Tom was sitting on my dad's lap. I asked dad if I could sit on it too and he said yes, extended an arm to help me up but pushed me away instead. I thought it was funny so I laughed and tried to get on his lap, only to be pushed away again. This went on for about 5 or 6 attempts and by now he and Tom were laughing, but I was not. On my final attempt I started crying and asked why he wouldn't let me up, I remember my mum shouting at my dad to stop but that just angered him. This final time he pushed me so hard that I went flying backwards into the sideboard and hit my head and cried harder.


His reaction was to say that he was only playing with me and to start calling me a little baby, a little girl who didn't deserve to sit on his lap...that was only for boys like Tom.
Then I was told to go and sit on my mum's lap...because that's where I belonged...with women!
All I wanted was to sit on his lap and have a cuddle for fucks sake...why would anyone be so cruel to a young child? Anyway, Tom loved it. He sat there afterwards and each time I looked at him he would smile and snuggle into my dad, just to rub it in...bless him!



Now, this post is already long so I'm stopping here (well, shortly). This is one incident aged about 5, and there are many incidents in my life concerning my dad and Tom so maybe I'll only be able to post one at a time...but that could take years lol.


I could just bullet point them, but without the history to each memory that would make for boring reading (if you're not bored already that is).


I don't really know how to proceed, I thought I had all this worked out until I saw the length of the post lol.


Any suggestions????


Also, I've neglected to add some humour to the end of my posts so here's a little bit...









Thanks for reading guys, and I will try to post more often.

All comments/questions are welcome.

Take care,
Col

Spare the rod - Part 1...Discipline or Abuse?

First of all, on the side bar you'll see a "Coming soon" list. This is a list of planned posts for the future about my life so far. There will be "now" posts as and when anything interesting happens lol. I stole the idea from Patrick who writes a wonderful blog I've recently started following. I hope you don't mind Patrick. :)

Also, a particular blog has recently posted on two subjects I'd planned to talk about so I've postponed them until later so it doesn't look like I'm jumping on the bandwagon. At least if they're "advertised" in advance I can't be accused of that lol.

I would also just like to thank the people who read this, and especially those that comment. I do reply to them in the comments section. I feel it's the least I can do when you've gone to the trouble of reading and commenting...I would like some more though, even if it's just to say "Hi, I read your blog" or something...c'mon, don't be shy guys lol!!

So,

"He who spareth the rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him correcteth him betimes."

(Proverbs 13:24)

Well fuck me, if that's true then I guess I was totally wrong about my dad all this time...we must have been the most loved kids in the whole wide world lol!!!
He was obviously very misunderstood, I just can't understand why it's taken me so long to see that we were beaten so much because he loved us all so dearly!

I guess you live and learn, eh?

Yeah right!!!

The man was a fucking wanker, he should never have had kids (or at least not so many). So I'm saying, in that case, that I might never have existed...so what! I wouldn't have known anyway lol, and I wouldn't be sitting here now spilling my guts to you guys.
Btw, I'm not angry while I'm writing this (just fucking frozen; wearing fingerless gloves and a woolly hat lol. Can't afford to use the heating during the day lol.), as time goes by I think less about him. I hope this helps me to forget about him completely soon.
It's the 21st anniversary of his death in two days and I won't be visiting his grave. My siblings don't ask me anymore lol. I've only been there twice and all I felt was anger and resentment, so bollocks to him! It's the best thing he ever did for me!!! Sorry, but it was.

I've told you that when I was young, around 3 or 4, he was ok. However, even then he would take his temper out on us. He was short, but very strong, and he didn't hold back when you were getting "walloped" as he called it. You were hoisted into the air by your arm (later it could be by the leg, whichever he could grab first while you were trying to get away from him) then he would would whack you, and I mean whack, on the bum. As soon as you moved your free arm to cover your bum he would whack you on the top your legs, as soon as you tried to cover your legs he'd get your bum again etc. Once was never enough, remember we were toddlers, infants, but I'm sure he enjoyed it.

My mum would shout at him that enough was enough; it was unnecessary; he was marking us; why did he have to hit us so hard etc. But, he just told her to shut-up; he would punish us however he saw fit; he was only "tapping" us and god help us if he really lost his temper.

Well he marked us alright; physically yeah...we had "raised" hand prints/welts all over our bum and legs, but he was marking us mentally too.

To be continued....

I don't want to make the posts too long and bore everybody.

Two quick things before I go; I was chatting with Adam yesterday and he sent me a very short piece of music which was created by using my (full) name as a musical equation. I think that's right but if not then I apologise (you know what I'm like with "techy" stuff lol). Anyway, I thought it was great and also a lovely thing to do. I'll treasure it. So Adam, in the immortal words of ABBA: Thank you for the music! *Hug*

Finally, to any fellow bloggers who read my blog and are on my Blog List; would you kindly add me to yours please?
Similarly, any bloggers reading who are not on my list; please leave a comment and I'll check yours out!

Thanks for reading guys and please, please, please leave some kind of comment.(Was that a little too desperate? lol)

Until next time...
Col

Losing My Religion.

This post (and others that will follow) are predominantly about my relationship with my Father and my brother Tom, how our relationships have affected me even to this day. There will be stuff about religion, discipline, sibling rivalry, love, hate, shame, neglect, oppression, hope etc; and I'll try to minimise the amount of posts if I can, but once I start rambling...Lol.

So here goes...

My dad was a devout Roman Catholic and attended Mass and Confession/Holy Communion religiously (no pun intended), he was Irish but had lived in England since he was a boy. Even so, he still had that infamous Irish temper even though he didn't really drink then. The drinking came much later, and although I suppose he was a "happy" drunk his anger would flare up and the violence would ignite (more about that later). My mum is Jewish so she never attended Mass with us. There was a fourteen year age gap between my parents (my mum being the younger).

From as early as I can remember we were "dragged along" to church every Sunday morning, rain or shine. If mum thought one of us was too ill to go out she literally had to beg my dad not to take us. He always relented but was not happy about it, then again he was rarely happy anyway.

Their bedroom had loads of religious icons on the walls and dressing table. I don't know if this bothered my mum, but it wouldn't have made any difference if it did. He was boss!!!

Now I'm not religious at all, sure I had to go to Mass and I had to say my prayers every night and every morning when I was growing up. I had to attend Confession/Holy Communion but that was a farce in itself. Tom and I were forced to go through this when I was about fourteen and him thirteen. We didn't want to and we told our dad that. We'd also asked him in the past if we could stop going to Mass. We thought that we should be given the choice whether we wanted to attend or not. We were only there because we had no choice at the time, and forcing us to go wouldn't make us believe. In fact it may make us resent the Church/God later. This made him really angry and of course the answer was that we would continue to go as long as we were living under his roof.

So, when it came to my first Confession I was literally shitting myself. The thought of having to tell the priest/God all my sins was terrifying, I felt physically sick.
I mean, by this age I'd known for years I was gay and I'd had gay sexual experiences with two friends too. Did my dad really think I was going to blurt all this out, regardless of it being said in a confessional and that it was "privileged" information?...I think not!!!! And besides, to confess all of my "sins" would've taken like... forever. I'd have needed a couple of gallons of tea and a dozen rounds of sandwiches for the amount of time I would have been in there.

So I just said stuff like: I was rude to my parents, I swore at a teacher, I fought with my brother, I broke some body's window and ran away etc. (I'll probably go to hell just for lying in Confession, but hey ho!)
The thing is, I remember sweating profusely whilst confessing, feeling like He knew that I was lying and would punish me for yet another sin (maybe he has already, maybe that's why I've never had somebody to love or somebody to love me, who knows?)

Anyway, it was many years after that I was finally able to stop attending Mass etc; and that was only because it suited my dad at the time.
I've never been to Mass since and that's because of the following reasons:

1] Being forced to go when I was young really pissed me off.
2] My prayers were never answered.
3] In my teens too many hypocrites (in my opinion) attended Mass and came across as nice people inside the church, but then went straight to the pub (or Church Social Club) and got drunk. There were arguments and fights (and not just between the men), piss-taking and general disrespecting of people. Some even went home and beat their wife and/or kids.

I was taught that to be "Christian" was to be kind, helpful, thoughtful, neighbourly and the rest (for any Non-Christians who may read this: I mean no offence,it's what I was taught but not what I believe)...but all I could see was a lot of drunken Irishmen, my dad included, who seemed to care about nothing except how many more pints or shorts they could drink before chucking-out time.

There's a quote I like, I don't who said it but it's:

"Going to church doesn't make you a Christian anymore than going to a garage makes you a mechanic!"

That rings very true to me, based on my own experience. By the way, I have nothing against Irishmen. My local church's congregation used to be made up almost entirely of Irishmen (the 11am Sunday Mass was anyway), so that's why I saw so many.

All of the above is probably secondary to how I was (mis)treated/disciplined, or how I felt that I was starved of love, affection and encouragement as a child, teenager and young adult by my dad.
I'll go into that in a future post where the opening will be the following quotes from the Bible:

"He who spareth the rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him correcteth him betimes."

(Proverbs 13:24)

"Withhold not correction from a child: for if thou strike him with a rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and deliver his soul from hell."

(Proverbs 23:13-14)

All I will say at the moment is that my skin was no stranger to my dad's hands or his bamboo cane lol!!

Take care,

Col

Sorry about the block of text at the end but I'm having problems editing...again!!

Poor White Trash! (Part 2)

First of all, thanks for your comments guys!

Secondly, I apologise for the block text but I'm having a problem with paragraphs.
No matter how many times I edit it, it will not change...aaargh!!

So, to Part 2:

I was jealous/envious of my mates when I was young.
They were able to go and buy toys, comics, magazines, sweets…whatever!!
They always wore nice clothes, went on holidays, went to the cinema etc; but most of all they were HAPPY!
They had parents that cared for and loved them, parents that did things with them, spent quality time with them…for my friends that was just normal, how all families are…yeah right!

I never received pocket money during my childhood, which I suppose is understandable given my family’s financial situation. If and when my parents had a little money they would treat us but those times were few and far between.

Once you got to a certain year in my junior school you could put your name on a list to “work” in the tuck shop during morning break/recess.
At the end of each week you could choose one item as your payment/wage. Fuck me, my name was on that list straight away, sweets and crisps were a rare luxury for me but this treat was guaranteed…every week.

How pathetic was that????
Btw, I always chose Tomato Ketchup flavour crisps…Mmmmm! I’ve always been a savoury person…lol.

When I moved up to senior school things improved a little, if only in the clothing dept…lol.
Of course we had to wear a uniform, so for me this was great, nobody (apart from my junior school friends that went up to the same school) would realise how poor we were because I would look the same as them…Haha!
The uniform had to come from a list of approved suppliers so there were no designer logos, I love the idea of uniforms in school and places of work because they are great “levellers.”
It was still embarrassing when shopping for the uniform though, as my dad was still unemployed we were entitled to free uniforms and had to present vouchers to the store as payment.
Seeing the looks, or rather the sneers, of the staff (and some customers) on presenting said vouchers I could’ve just curled up and died. They just looked at my parents like they were scum!!

I also received free school meals, another humiliating experience, originally the system was that your parents were issued with a book of tickets every few months, or something like that.
When you reached the end of the queue for the canteen you either handed over your money, or voucher in my case, to the monitor. No problem there, nobody could see what you were handing over…lol.
Then, some time later the school changed their queuing system. Now, they had TWO queues, one for paying diners and one for freebies…wtf????

So there you were in this queue of poor people, getting the filthiest looks and having to listen to things like “Pikey bastards!”, “Gyppo’s!” (not sure about the spelling…lol), “Losers!” etc. from other pupils. The only thing I could take comfort in was knowing then that I wasn’t alone…it was quite a fucking queue!

My poor mum had a worse life than I did during those times. Not only did she have to (and I mean HAVE TO) see to five kids each and every morning, she had to do everything for my dad too.
He wouldn’t get out of bed until we’d all gone to school and while mum was making sure we were ready and making us breakfast (you know the routine) he would be banging on the bedroom floor.
This meant “where the fuck is my breakfast???”

Anyway, with my lazy, no-good dad not working my mum decided to do some home-working.
So, she started sewing the leather onto steering wheels for sports cars AND putting the acetates onto greetings cards…the wage was crappy but at least she was trying.
He never lifted a finger to help her in anything, he would just sit in front of the TV all day and bark out his orders, when he wasn’t in the bookies that is…and don’t ask me where he got the money for that! She would be busy doing things like getting us ready, dusting, vacuuming, mopping, washing, ironing, shopping, cooking, washing-up, drying-up, the steering wheels, the cards…all day and into the night. She never had a moment to herself.

What really fucks me off is something I mentioned in Part 1.
It was about a woman’s place being in the home, but, I should also have included that they believed a MAN’s place was to be the bread winner and provide for his family…lol, lol, lol, lol.

I wonder what happened there??

I’m sorry if this post was boring and/or depressing, I know I said I’d try to “lighten” things up but …

I will leave you with some amusing/cute images though.
I’ll be posting some photos of animals just doing ….well you‘ll see lol, and some “cute” animal photos courtesy of my sister-in-law.

Reasons not to take kids to the zoo!

How cute are they?

Poor White Trash! (Part 1)

Thanks to everybody who took the time to read my first post, and a special thanks to those who commented. I was amazed to receive any comments at all…lol.

My blog name was taken from Aaron Hill's Works, circa 1750, and it simply means:
To tackle a difficult problem boldly.

So yeah, we were a poor family. My dad was out of work a lot more than he was in it and that didn’t make for a happy childhood. It wasn’t just being poor either, from around the age of four I never felt loved, or even liked, by my dad. He was Irish and had a real temper, and he only seemed to care and have time for my brother…you’ll here more about them in future posts.

Anyway, I remember when I was very young (when there was only three children) and dad was working, I couldn’t wait for him to come home from work.
He would pick us up and spin us around, hug and kiss us, throw us up and down, let us sit on his motor bike and just enjoy having his kids around him…he had his temper though and we never knew how long his good mood would last.

We moved to a larger house when I was seven because a year earlier my mum had her fourth child, that’s when things started to get bad. To make matters worse my mum had another child the following year. So now there were five kids to feed, clothe etc and dad wasn’t working.

Maybe I should explain that my dad was a catholic, so he didn’t believe in contraception, he was fourteen years older than my mum and they were both raised to believe that a woman’s place is most definitely in the home…and a wife should never refuse her husband his conjugal rights.

We never went hungry but it was a daily struggle for them to make ends meet, I know they made sacrifices but when you’re a kid you just can’t see it.

So, all our clothes were either hand-me-downs from friends and relatives, or from jumble sales.
It’s bad enough going to school with your friend when you’re wearing the clothes he has grown out of, but my mum used to buy some really ugly stuff at the jumble sales…the ugliest thing was this pair of PURPLE trousers, but that’s not the worst of it, it was the material…CRUSHED VELVET!!!!

Aaaargh!!! Purple crushed fucking velvet…I mean, helloooo!! What were you thinking mum?…lol.

Well, as you can probably imagine, I was mortified at the thought of actually having to wear these to school. Let’s face it: young kids don’t really think before they speak.
But, no matter how much I pleaded or cried (seriously, you would’ve thought I was being murdered with the amount of screaming I was doing…lol), I had to wear them.
I really can’t remember if anybody took the piss at school (but you would though, wouldn’t you!), I think I’ve just blocked out the trauma of it all…lol.

Sorry, this is going on too long, I might have to start splitting posts into part 1, part 2 etc.
I know what I want to say, I just keep going off on tangents though. To me it’s all related, but it probably reads like a mish-mash of verbal diarrhoea to you.

I’ll post part 2 tomorrow.

Yes, I’m also stealing the “Random facts about me” thing, sorry :) and I’m going to add some (hopefully) humorous stuff at the end of each post too.

So, some random stuff:

I hate spiders and moths.

I hate puppets, especially clowns and large birds…they’ve always scared the crap out of me lol.

My first real sexual contact with another male was when I was aged 12.

My last was aged around 35 (yeah, it’s easy to figure out how long I’ve not “had any” for lol).

Finally, some interesting facts (with some humour thrown in for good measure).
I hope it makes you chuckle!

If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.

(Now that's more like it!)

The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet.

(O.M.G.!)

A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes.

(In my next life, I want to be a pig.)

A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death. (Creepy.)

(I'm still not over the pig.)

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.

(Don't try this at home, maybe at work.)

The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off.

('Honey, I'm home. What the..?!')

The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field.
(30 minutes...lucky pig! Can you imagine?)

The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.

(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)

Some lions mate over 50 times a day.

(I still want to be a pig in my next life...quality over quantity.)

Butterflies taste with their feet.

(Something I always wanted to know.)

The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.

(Hmmmmmm..)

Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people.
(If you're ambidextrous, do you split the difference?)

Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.

(okay, so that would be a good thing.)

A cat's urine glows under a black light.

(I wonder who was paid to figure that out?)

An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.

( I know some people like that.)

Starfish have no brains.

(I know some people like that too.)

Polar bears are left-handed.

(If they switch, they'll live a lot longer.)

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.

(What about that pig??)