And before you know it Christmas will be here.

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No matter how much you try to ignore the on rush of Christmas which seems to run from the 1st of October to the 1st of January if you are to believe the adverts in the media; the harder it becomes as the first few adverts that appear becomes a deluge before the big day arrives. For the children it's the time of year for writing their Christmas list and which will keep them occupied, and happy, on a rainy Sunday afternoon as they ponder the delights of the presents they want.

Now as they get older the days are gone when colouring pens, books on Bob the Builder and fairy stories, or small cars and simple board games topped their lists. Now it’s mobile phones, iPads, a pet dog, gaming machines plus all the games that go with them and money too. The more time they sit, nice and quiet, scribbling away the longer the lists becomes, and the more poor old Santa Claus will have to work over time to pay off all his elves.

This change didn't happen slowly as the years passed, but came about this year. Suddenly that little baby you once cuddled in your arms becomes a little child, and then suddenly they become grown up children, and before you know it they will be teenagers. I ponder to think what their lists will be like then. Maybe Santa will have to exchange his poor little old slay for a gleaming new big four by four to carry all those gifts? Now that would be a present indeed and one Father Christmas truly deserves! Of course there is always the mince pie and sherry (a big double measure) for him to look forward to until that day arrives.

Today in the U.K we have been hit by a shopping craze that first appeared a year or two ago and this year has hit the nation like a fist in the face. It was imported from America and that is Black Friday. The media have been hyping it this year to the point where at 00.01 am this morning people were fighting in the shops in a mad Frenzy to get to shelves so they could spend their money. Police had to be called and in some cases the shops closed so the whole point of the exercise was lost. 

Are people mad? Or are we as a species doomed? Or maybe we are both, and thus doomed to destroy ourselves because of our own madness? 

Read Frenzy a Daniel Jones Story an the upcoming sequel Daniel Jones Doom and you may just find out the answer.

Regards

Mark

The turn around begings

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Slowly, very slowly I have have been climbing out of the pit of despair. On Tuesday the burial was held for my niece's child that died during child-birth. The ceremony was held at St Micheal's Church in Oulton Broad. A medieval church that when constructed would have been in a rural parish, but is now on the edge of a major town of Lowestoft that has spread up to it since the 70's.

It was a cold, but sunny day, and the doom could be felt by everyone that turned up. It was a simple service, but one that allowed everyone present to shed their grief. I have now been to two family funerals in the space of two weeks. One a secular cremation for my step-father, and the other a church burial. I must admit that although I shed tears during both ceremonies, I do find a church service more powerful that a secular service. It doesn't matter if you are buried, or cremated, after the church service; I just find that with a religious service when the priest stands there, and talks about the after life, you have more hope that there is a point to life than if you are just there, and here about the good points of somebodies life, which is all they do during a secular service.

Either way it's still two moments in my life I wished I could avoid, but as the saying goes; 'the only two things in life you can't avoid are death and taxes.' This sentence out of all the famous sayings, or words of advice, or doctrine is probable the the most truthful thing of all time. It doesn't matter what religion you believe in, what faith you have, or if you are an atheist, there is no escaping the fact that life comes down to paying tax, for most people, and then death.

I'm sorry if I sound pessimistic today, but when you suffer two deaths in  family as close as ours, within seven days, that's how you end up feeling. But then again the family can be more powerful than the tax man, and more powerful than death; because the family lives on from one generation to the next. And that is the whole point of life.

Regards

Mark

DOOM

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I think the new front cover to Daniel Jones DOOM the sequel to FRENZY a Daniel Jones story sums up perfectly the mood I have been in all week. I don't know why, but this week has been the worst so far after the death of my step-father William Cassidy. I felt terrible sadness after his death, but this goes beyond that, I just can't describe it. If you have been through this grey gloom then you will know what I mean. It's hard to put a finger on the one word that can show how you feel, but a horrible feeling it is.

 

There I have been sitting at home in self-pity when I was forced to go out. Two funerals had been booked for the Parish Church and as I'm the verger I had to go, and set everything up. So on Thursday morning just after 11 am I arrived to be greeted by a young stranger. He was friendly, but looked out of place standing there in the church with a can in his hand. As other members turned up I found out more information about this chap. Apparently he had arrived a day or two before, and was homeless. He had slept in the porch way of the church and looked in a sorry state. He left the church for the funeral and returned after it, sitting on the back pew with his can of drink in his hand. 

I was locking up and stopped by his side as he sat there silently, starring into the oblivion. I was on my way to the cafe on River Green just a few doors down to get something to eat for my lunch. I asked if he eaten today, and then said if he wanted to come with me I would get him something to eat as well. He looked pleased as punched and within a couple of minutes we were talking away. On our arrival I ordered some food to take away and we sat down at a table as we waited for the order to be prepared.

Then he bleed his heart to me. I asked about his life and he let the flood gates open. He was 26 and was in a terrible mental state. He already had various children from various women but never saw them. He had run up rent arrears and admitted to a violent temper that had got him into constant trouble. So I asked the next obvious question. But why?

Then what he told me put my self-pity, and myself in general, into its true place. I thought I had it bad dealing with Tadger's death, but it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to his life. He was psychical abused by his dad, and even worse his was raped until he was taken into care. Now for anyone who knows about the British care system for children it can be a hell as bad as which the poor children are taken from. The next twelve years of his life seemed to be a constant hell. He had tried to committee suicide at various times and showed me his arms with its many slash/knifes marks.

This Friday there was another funeral and when I arrived to get things set up once again my young friend was there. Once again he kept out of the way of the service. Afterwards the men of community had a talk with him, Us men had got into action, We knew he couldn't spend the winter months sleeping rough, in the the church porch or on the street, and so men had been in contact and things were arranged.

Afterwards I took him out for a quick drink, and talk, in the Rushcutters. Then he headed back to the Church Porch for hopefully his final night. A bed had been found in a hostel, although he didn't want to go I explained it was just a small step in many steps that he will need to take in getting his life back. He had had bad experiences in hostels, but this time there was a difference, this time he had men by his side to help him. Not people there to exploit him, but men there to help him.

And this whole experience brought home how lucky I have been to have certain men in my life, like my step-dad, who have been there for me when my luck has failed me. And this is why the dedication in Daniel Jones DOOM reads as follows.

This book is dedicated to Dennis King, my father; to William Cassidy, my step father; to David Cragg, my father-in-law; and to Andrew Bagshaw, my friend. Four men who have had a positive influence on my life that I shall never forget.

Regards

Mark

The proof read.

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Life has to get back to normal quite quickly even after events that leave you in a state of shock. Within days of my step-dad's funeral I received back from the publishers the manuscript to Daniel Jones DOOM the sequel to FRENZY a Daniel Jones Story. It has been type set in the format ready for publishing and I have to go through it, line for line, to check for errors and proof read the story.

At the same time the first design for the front cover also popped into my email account. It wasn't a hard process as I already had in my mind the picture of the cover. I wanted to keep it simple like the cover for Frenzy and in the same style. The only difference was I wanted the main back ground cover to be a silver tint in place of gold.

It only took two attempts by the designer and it was done, and below you can be the first members of the public to see it in the world. The proof reading is a bit of a slog because you can't have any distractions. You need to focus on every word. That means no television or radio in the back ground, and more importantly no children running about with all the noise they make, even when they are trying to be quite. 

I would like Daniel Jones Doom to come out for general sale by the end of the year, so need to get cracking on because as the adverts on the television prove; Christmas is only around the corner and the year is fast approaching its final swan song. Before you know it 2014 will turn into 2015. So next week I will be working hard to finish the proof reading, and nothing can be allowed to get in my way, including decorating my son's bedroom. So the wife will have to put on her old jeans and T-short and get covered in paint.

Now that's one job I don't mind not having to do.

Regards

Mark

Two stabs at the heart

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last Sunday was my birthday and all I wanted after the recent events was a quite family get to together in my home. My step-father had passed away the previous Sunday and with his cremation service only a few days away I was in no mood for celebrations.

Then I received a call from my sister just after I had opened all my presents and cards while in bed with my wife and two children snuggled up by my side. She was in tears and her voice struggled to release the news she had for me. My niece had lost her baby. She had been pregnant and it was a small ray of light on the  low horizon of doom that had engulfed all our lives recently. My sister would have become a granny for the first time and my mum would have had her first grand child. The child's birth wouldn't have taken away the pain my mum is going through in loosing Tadger, but it would have a least soothed her agony.

The service on Tuesday went to plan with plenty of people attending and the wake at the Kind Alfred pub was a traditional British affair. I thought that after this I would be able to cheer myself up and start to get back to some sort of normal life, but how wrong have I been again. The numbness just won't go away and it's a struggle to leave my home at the moment. Tonight my team Norwich City F.C are playing Bolton at Carrow Road with the game being beamed live on the television. Normally I would be looking forward to having a Friday night out with my friends afterwards, hopefully celebrating a home win, but I just don't fancy it. I'm going to drive to the ground and carry out my steward duties and then come straight home.

How things seem to be going at the moment I expect Norwich to loose the game. In fact I don't care what happens tonight, all I care about is being with my family, especially the senior members because my life seems to be hurtling along so quickly before I know it they will all be gone, and then my time will be up.

Regards

Mark

Name change

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My Step-father's cremation will take place at 10.30 am in Gorleston next Tuesday the 28th. Afterwards a wake is being held at the King Alfred Pub in Carlton Colville. That was the easy bit to sort out, the hardest bit has been contacting all the firms, and organisations, that hold his details and which either need to be changed over to my mums name, or deleted completely. My mother is in such a daze at the moment she's unable to carry out the simplest of tasks so I have taken on the duties of sorting out the bureaucracy. 

And what a merry-go-round has this been!

All the bills and documents are in my step-fathers name as is traditional for that generation, so I phoned them up, and with every one of them I got through to that annoying number system. "please pick one of the following six options" then after picking one hoping it would put you in the right direction you then hear again "please pick one of the following five options"; and just as you thought you might get through to a human I got through to a third set instructions, "please pick of the following three options". I found it so frustrating because after going though it all you were then asked to talk to a computer which asked me to give personal information as a security measure, and as I didn't know this information because it went to the grave with my step-father I couldn't go any further. I would have to start the whole process again hoping if I pressed a different number option I would finally get through to a human voice who could help me.

In most cases once I was able to speak to someone they were able to do what was required and occasionally I had to send off a copy of the death certificate; although I must add the worst institution was the Television Licence office who refused to do anything over the phone and insisted everything has to be done by snail mail. Their attitude was what you would have expected in the 1940's.

What was most upsetting about the whole process, and also the most worrying, were the mistakes made by the people at the other end of the telephone. As an example my mother received a letter from a government department that had been contacted which stated "Dear Mr Cassidy we are sorry to hear about the loss of Mr Cassiday! So I would have to go through the operation again to get the mistakes corrected. I have been encountering problems again and again as the changes we requested to be made start to filter through the system. As the saying goes with computers "you put garbage in you get garbage out."

If you think about the billions of bits of information that are added to computer systems of one sort or another around the world on a daily bases. If you then factor in the high percentage rate of mistakes made by the people who are inputting this information, and which is never corrected, since electronic systems started to take over our lives thirty years ago, it does beg the question.

If so much of what is held on computers is corrupted should we place so much faith on what we are told in this digital age?

Regards

Mark

William Cassidy

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My mobile phone rang around 6 am on the morning of Sunday the 12th October 2014. It was on the floor next to my bed as I slept. Before I even answered it I knew it could only mean one thing because no one phones you at that time of morning unless they have something major to tell you. Still half a sleep my voice had a tremble in its wake as I answered its ring with a simple word "Hello." 

My auntie was on the other end and she was straight to the point. "Tadger has passed away." That's the nickname my step-father William Cassidy has been known by for many years and which morphed into the character Badger in both Frenzy a Daniel Jones Story, and also in  the sequel Daniel Jones Doom that comes out later this year. 

I couldn't say much and within the minute the call was finished, and then my tears began to flow. The wife could sense what had happened and followed. The grief that wafted through our bedroom woke up my daughter who came into our room concerned. She kept asking what was wrong and when I finally steadied myself enough to tell her the news it sent her into a fit of crying and howls. Finally all the commotion woke my young son and he too came into our bedroom asking what was wrong. When we told him his reaction was totally different. He turned without saying a word and then walked calmly back to his own room, climbed back into bed and then hid under his sheets, refusing all requested to come back.

We all handle grief and sad news in different ways, but the one constant is that it feels as if our own world had changed for ever.

The wife and I, and the children had visited Tadger the afternoon before he passed away in the James Pagent Hospital in Gorleston. Two weeks that's all it had taken! Two weeks after being diagnosed with cancer. That Saturday night after our visit to see him there was a terrible thunder storm that sent out lightning flashing across the sky, and as I stood looking out of the kitchen window I knew something was going to happen within the next 24 hours that would cause me a lot of pain. It reminded me of the scene that unfolded when Jesus died on the cross and I knew then that God was coming to take my step-father's soul back to where it belongs.

This week has been terrible, but I have been thankful that William Cassidy has been part of my life. At the time when I was only my son's age, and my parents divorced, I found it just as hard then as I do now to cope with the loss that I now feel; but since my late teens I have been grateful, and have considered myself very lucky, to have two mums and two dads. Tadger never had any children of his own so I was always treated as his only son. I've appreciated this fact even more since I have two children of my own because they have had the luxury of having at some point in their lives six grand parents who have shown them nothing but love.

I have handled many funerals at the local parish church and one constant you always hear during the service is when adults stand to say a few words. They normally lament, and wished, they had spent more time with the person that now lay in the coffin next to them. This is one thing I won't have to say because I have always enjoyed family life and have tried over the years to spend, and do as many things as possible, with all my family.

All I can say to all of you out there who are reading this blog is that you never know when the thunder storm is heading towards someone you love. So go and enjoy their life now before it's too late.

Regards

Mark