Xmas greetings and Felicitations

Here we go then, heading into the final part of the year and ready to embrace the New year with renewed zeal and vigour. Allegedly. Its been a weird old year for me, with rushes of inspiration to write and then complete apathy to follow on. I promise to try harder next year as I need the practice if I'm ever going to be at a level to pen that first novel, that first play, that first TV series ro that first football match report for a Fleet Street organ. Or maybe my first blogs after becoming the breakfast show presenter on Planet Rock. Or launching my own radio station.

One can but dream. Don't laugh, every one of those features on the plan. Which will be a masterpiece when completed. Lets hope I don't need it. Or that if I do it does what I hope it will do.


So, how to sum up this year in Grocerjacks life? Odd might be a good word. Eventful would be another. Peaceful and tranquil however, do not fit the bill.

I suppose the first big thing to affect me was tearing an intercostal muscle in a coughing fit one night. I have never known such excruciating pain ....a pain that has still not fully gone. I, being a good drama queen, thought it was a heart attack but was soon bought back down to earth by Hellsbells. No golf for nearly 3 months due to the incapacitating nature of the injury meant that for a while even my notorious grumpiness which lets me be President of the GoGB was pushed to the point of permanent rage. Then we had the interminable madness within The Company of re-orgs gone wrong, good people thrown out, monkey brained clowns promoted and me with a tub thumping bible bashing boss. Me, an atheist and all. But despite our theological differences she was very good and very kind. Religious nut, maybe, but she made me feel good again after the trauma of watching friends get walked off site. I actually gained strength from her, which doesn't fit easily but maybne her faith in me rubbed off. Next was the bombshell news that Hellsbells had found a lump. Yep, that sort of lump. A visit to the Doctors confirmed that even he thought it was not a good lump. Hellsbells had to wait two months for a visit to the hospital for all the relevant tests, which happily came out as negative and the lump was something else altogether and totally harmless. During that time tensions rose and she battled on stoically with just the odd lapse into crumpled heap. I was in Spain when she got the good news. We partied as hard on the Iberian coast that night as they did on the sunny South Coast of Britain.It's weird how everyone automatically assumes the worst case scenario. Maybe its human nature or maybe these days we just like to know what we're up against and as such we opt for the path of pessimism to prepare ourselves for the worst.

In August, after 2 long years I finally had the orthodontic appliances that I had fitted top and bottom removed. two long years of humiliation and physical pain had come to an end. No more mouth ulcers or wire lacerations. No more headaches as jawbones and teeth were pulled under mechanical force into new unfamiliar positions. No more smiling through closed lips and no more wondering what people thought when they saw an array of metal lining the teeth like a row of metallic robot guards. The result was damn near perfect and despite the slight flossing obsession I seem to have gained it was £4000 well spent. I smile more these days, despite what people might think. What was interesting was just how many people I know who never noticed. Hellsbells took 2 hours or more to notice, not even seeing the broad grin when collecting me at Montpellier Airport. Pie never noticed until the same time as Hellsbells, and then claimed we was still so young she couldn't remember me without braces before. She's 13 and a half the cheeky cow. Kid had to be told eventually but hey, no-one does archetypal insular teenager quite so well. And to be fair she was rather anxiously anticipating her GCSE results. She passed all 9. MiddleSis, whose transformation using cosmetic laminates was my inspiration, noticed after 15 seconds. I guess people with new teeth notice others new teeth far more quickly. LittleSis new up front as she was taking me to the orthodontists. Lucky, who works in my team also noticed immediately, but then she had 2 years of the same thing when she was younger. No-one else in the team noticed. So, the lesson is no-one really takes that much notice of how you look, no matter how paranoid you are.

After a glorious relaxing holiday at The Money Pit it was back to work in September and the brush with death we had with Monsieur French Fuckwit Lorry Driver. To this day I can honestly say it was the most terrifiyng event of my life. Far more terrifying than my motorbike crash in 1992 which gave me a 5 week stay in a state run hotel. Or hospitals as they're called. This time no hospital was needed but I still wonder how the least likely outcome became the actual outcome. If I wasn't an atheist then I'd think it was a test of my ......faith?

In October another week at The Money Pit on my own got off to a bad start with a 6 hour delay on the ferry crossing, foul sailing and driving weather and a 657 mile journey the length of France on my own in a right hand drive car with a broken rear view mirror! All this to revise for an (important) exam. and to close the Money Pit down for the winter. The revision spolied the week away for me but a rare game of golf was enjoyed but underlining that all was not well from the accident. Luckily I had been persuaded into a compensation claim but my neck, shoulders, lower back and left ankle have defiinitely suffered due to the impact and forces at play during the accident. The weather was good and all I wanted to do was laze about and sightsee, but I had to stick my head into books to revise all the stale stuff I'd read already.It was hateful and the more I read the more I resented this waste of a holiday.

Was it worth it? On December the 9th, my email notifier popped up with the title 'Open University - Exam results for AA308 now available" in the title bar. Fear struck at me like a 30amp shock from the mains. If this was a pass then I had finally got the degree. I would be a BA...or a BSc. Either way it meant the work would either be worthwhile or a monumental fuck up and misjudgement of my own capability. It would be akin to Paul McCartney thinking Heather Mills was a good choice of wife, or thinking he could ever write a good song again. I decided I couldn't face looking at the result,. After all they'd contact me with any re-sit details wouldn't they? And besides I'd made my mind up that I couldn't go through all that revision bollocks again. Fuck 'em. Fuck the OU, fuck the tutors, fuck the examiners and fuck all the idiots who write the course materials. They'd all conspired against me, the bastards. They didn't want me to pass....they didn't want a Chelsea supporting, Guinness drinking, Comprehensive School educated oik like me to be remotely academic, to be part of the 'Alumni'. See how easily the paranoia and conspiracy theorem takes control?

So I went to get a cup of tea. I returned 10 minutes later to see yet another OU email pop into the inbox. But.........this time the header said "Award of BA degree". Blimey they must have it wrong I thought, but this time I followed the link to the results page. There it was - 60% exam score, overall course score 75%. A pass. Not a distinction. Not a grade 1 pass. But a fucking pass all the same! I am now Grocerjack BA (Open). Of course I am considering the Honours extension by doing a couple of Creative Writing courses. but that's just garnish in my eyes. Am I chuffed? You bet your fucking arse I am.

And thus far that is it. I head into a different Christmas this year. One where I'm thankful to be alive. Thankful that my family is alive and well. A Christmas where despite everything I hit 2 big targets, straight teeth and a degree. Even if the golf deteriorated to a 26 handicap its been worth it. And maybe that handicap is something to improve next year. Its a Christmas day with dinner at the pub with the extended family and not worrying about seating 16 people. No worries about frictions in the kitchen about what order to serve the food in or who has what. Dinner with nobody having to attend anyone else whilst we try to eat, with adults unable to speak or settle down lest a child needs to be waited on hand and foot against the backdrop of a kitchen looking like some sort of modern day apocalyptic post-Hiroshima nightmare. A Christmas Day topped by the Christmas Night party (something I just don't get) but this time at LittleSis's Ranch in the evening where I can kick back and have a glass of wine and cuban cigar safe in the knowledge that for the first time in many years I'm not suffering from a blood pressure attack from the cacophony of noise from presents and toys competing with TV and music, whilst watching kids and adults unwittingly trash my house. I could actually enjoy this one! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.


Later, GJ