Dean's Blog

The sunsets on Ibiza,
The ravers have moved away
Hedonistic blue sun filled skies
Replaced with sullen gray
Darkness descends across the islands
Yet there still shines a wondrous light
An angel of Ibiza town
Whose eyes they burn so bright
Summer may have moved on
Yet the passion never dies
Her heart beats like an inferno
No matter how much she cries
Eyes sparkling like two diamonds
Shining over all the tears
A spirit so unbreakable
It will conquer all her fears
Pain may at the moment
Seem like an unbreakable cloud
Yet the love that her friends have for her
Becomes a protected shroud
For love conquers anything
That life may throw her way
She is the queen of angels
She is hear to stay
A whirlwind of emotion
A queen amongst us all
She brightens every day we live
She rises above us all
Now she is a Phoenix soaring through the flames
Those who hurt are whispers in the wind
Now just forgotten names
Soaring to the skies
A smile as bright as the sun
Ebony is the eternal light
Her time has just begun
You cannot keep her down
Resilience is her middle name
No matter where the playground
No matter what the game
2010 now beckons
It’s time for the pain to depart
Next year will be full of joy in Ebony’s pure heart

Make it the best year ever!!!

Well here we are not just at the end of another year but also another decade. I look back on this year first and it’s been an eventful and beneficial year for me with many ups and downs. Hard to really say if it has been a good year or not, I don’t think I can even judge this anymore as life is so up and down! This year saw me move for the tenth time in ten years. Relocating to west London and I have remained there since but though I have decided to stay in London for one more year it is important that I feel happy at home so I will be looking for one more move next year as living with my current flat mate is akin to living with the entire cast of “The Young Ones”.

I have also done a fair amount of traveling this year, albeit to the same country! I visited Sweden seven times this year and it is safe to say that in twelve months it is the country that I will be calling home. It has taken a while but finally I think that it really does feel like “home”. There is still so much that I have to learn about the country, so much that I need to understand but every time that I visit there it feels more and more special. Sweden is a naturally beautiful place and the people are amazing.

One thing that I have found myself guilty of this year is not seeing my family enough. Three visits just does not really justify what I would call being a loving son! So next year I have decided to visit at least once a month, hopefully that should keep my phone bills down to when I do call back home. When I’m in Sweden then it will be not so bad to fly over once a month.

But it’s not only the end of a year but also the end of a decade. When I think of what has happened in the past ten years I really do have to catch my breath to think. At the end of 99 I was in my 20’s living a great life in Bristol. I was surrounded by friends, and though I was about to end a long term relationship I was more than happy with the love I had. But I had come to the end of a point in my life and I desperately craved change. Towards the end of 1999 I set the wheels in motion to move to London.

After staying for one more year in Bristol I eventually transferred myself to London in early 2001. I had met a new woman in my life and was throwing myself into unknown waters. Moving to a new house (I had not house shared in ages) was an experience, yet though that house has more mice than a cornfield and more holes than a Gorgonzola cheese it was, and still is, the best house I have ever lived in. The people there were not just housemates they were very special friends and that in itself is a hard thing to find in London.

The early “Noughties” went fairly uneventful. We moved several times, getting to know each other in our relationship, growing in love. I traveled to some wonderful new places, South America, Malaysia, Australia and parts of Europe I had not seen. It became a fairly comfortable routine and life was becoming rather enjoyable. I think the only thing that I was becoming a bit uncomfortable with is that my partner and I had the same group of friends, neither of us had any real individual friends that we could go out with from time to time.

2004 saw us move into a house in Canary Wharf. Melanie was having a lot of issues with her work and would often come back home in tears and I always tried my best to make her feel comfortable and happy. My work was beginning to bore me and I started to feel a bit restless. It was also the year that we began to take in housemates; there were some strange ones like Kate and Rachel but also some amazing friends like Nati.

2005 soon rolled into 2006 and life was going just fine. Again I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Australia to see Melanie’s family and had a wonderful time, also getting the chance to stop by Singapore and see this country in its entire beauty.

Then my world came crashing down in 2006.

In September 2006 on the very same day Melanie and I met for drinks, she told me that she had met someone else and that the relationship was over, I also lost my job that very day. Within the space of 24 hours I felt empty. Over the next few months I struggled, I began to drink more than I should do, could not really be bothered to go to work and basically I was living my life in a chaotic mess.

It was in November 2006 that things changed. I could not afford the house I was staying with on my own so I advertised the single room. I had a reply from several people but the girl who took the room was a Swedish girl called Marie, young, friendly and she had a carefree attitude that I had forgotten existed. In the six weeks she was there she not only woke me up but also, to a certain degree, changed my life.

The way that she woke me up, taught me how to live again and not care at the world or the way it throws trouble at me was just something that I will never forget. On the final day that we said goodbye we both knew that we had given each other a valuable lesson in life, I had given her an insight into what life outside of Sweden was like and she had taught me once again that my carefree attitude that I carried with so much swagger in my Bristol days still lay within.

2007 saw me move back to Bristol as I had no reason to really stay in London. I needed to escape the concrete suburban jungle that I no longer recognized. It seemed that everywhere I went had some stale disgusting reminder of where I once shared some times with the cheating bitch I lived with. The following year was a good one, though it was difficult to live with the family again it was nice to see them on a regular basis but I knew throughout this period that I would eventually have to return to London.

2008 saw my return and now I have come not only to the end of a decade but the end of my time here. As the clock slowly winds down to end another decade I am once again contemplating a change in my life’s direction. At the millennium it was Bristol to London, now it is London to Sweden.

The past ten years have been one of immense self discovery, a lot of happy times, a lot of sad times but I am ending this on a high. I have lost more friends than I would have liked to have written, some fell into the trap of drink and drugs and could not escape their demons.

But throughout it all there were two constant sides in my life that through all the highs and the lows never left me. My gym and my writing  there are some people I would like to thank this decade and some I would like to forget. But one above all stands tall, the friend who tragically passed away eight years ago. I know if she were alive my life would have been different.

So that in its summary is the story of my noughties. A time of love, pain, happiness, tears, sorrow, regret, silliness and cherished times.

What does the next decade hold?

Come back in a decade x

I have been trying to write this blog for several days now but with no real luck. It does not coincide with it being the end of the year, nor does it mean that this is something that I am really about to do.

I moved to London in 2001 and stayed there until the spring of 2007 when I moved back home, due to work I moved back to London in 2008 and have been there since. In all the years that I lived in London I ventured back to Bristol at least five times a year. This year was the year that I came back less than five. However in the times that I have visited this year I have come to the conclusion that I am missing Bristol.

The decision for me to move to Sweden in 2010/11 is one that will change my life forever. Many friends of mine that I met in London have moved from overseas and that is something that I have applauded. Recently I did this test where I evaluated which years of this decade I was happiest in, the year that came top was 2004. During this year I was living in Canary Wharf, was into the third year of a relationship and my job was a decent one. All of my friends lived in London.

If we fast forward five years it’s the complete opposite, I can count the number of friends I have in London on one hand, the majority of what I would call close friends are in Bristol. I have a well paid job in London, but the amount of money that I am paying for rent is nothing short of extortionate. I feel somewhat in a trap with my work, it feels that I am living in a solitary existence. My flatmate is a sad isolated man that trawls the internet for “babes” and then spends an extortionate amount of money trying to date these women. He’s in a lot of debt and reminds me of one of those old men that props up bars drinking in the same pub each night trying to put the world to rights. I have always said that I would rather die than become that state.

Maybe it is because that I don’t like normality or routine. Or could it be that I have always had itchy feet.

Anyway I am dragging this on. Let me take this back to normality.

The question is I am moving to Sweden as that is where the love of my life lives. But do I stay in London or do I move back home. There are certain elements of my life that lie in both cities. Bristol holds my heart and it is where my family lives but London is where my cultural heart is. My friends live in both but I will miss the comfort of Bristol but London has the cultural exuberance that I will miss.

So the question is Sweden is my destination but do I stay in London or move back to Bristol for one year. If I stay I face boredom and isolation, if I return I face a possible financial nightmare but contentment.

Please help me with my decision.

Twas the night before Christmas
When we children should dream
But all I can hear is Mummy’s loud scream

Daddy is hitting her again and again
This year I hope
That the blood does not stain

Not one of us kids
Dare make a sound
For fear that Daddy’s violence
Would double and rebound

We silently prayed
That mummy would be ok
And that somehow she would live
To see Christmas Day

So please Father Christmas
Tell me if you got my list?
I want Mummy to be safe
From Daddy’s big fist

Can you bring me enough hope?
So Mummy does not live in fear
Let this be the last violent New Year

For I don’t want to wake up
On a cold Christmas Day
To see Mummy in a coffin
Being taken away.

I read today several articles about social networking and the impact it has had on our lives this past year.

The first article was about the singer Lilly Allen and how she has given up her social networking “addiction” after a demand from her boyfriend. Allen said that she would constantly be updating her status on Facebook or Twitter and she would even sleep with her BlackBerry at times. Since the ultimatum she has put her laptop, Blackberry, Iphone in a box and is not even on email anymore. Whilst I feel this is slightly extreme I do understand her situation.

The second article mentioned that social networking was now the third highest reason for divorce in the UK. Many meet and even marry online through the people that they have met and for many the compatibility of forming love in real life is often too strenuous and hard to make a reality.

To me this is no longer a phase or a fad. Several years from now I foresee most relationships starting online. Many of my friends have met some wonderful people through sites like Facebook and the love is still going strong to this very day. Does it really matter how people meet? If you’re going to meet the love of your life then its regardless where you meet them, all that has happened is that meeting them from the comfort of your own home has quickly replaced that of going down the local pub.

However it can become something of an addiction as Lilly Allen found out. When I first tried out Facebook and Twitter I was something of an addict. Through Facebook I have managed to make contact with a lot of people that I had lost along the way and that is something I will always be thankful for. Twitter is more of a novelty really, a good way to have a laugh as well as keeping people updated whilst on the move. I really have no desire to stalk celebrities on Twitter. The very thought of knowing a z-list celebrity is having a shit is hardly the highlight of my day.

Thirty years ago many people sat in a darken room and used a CB radio to surf the airwaves to meet new people with a bizarre handle such as “Eagle Child”. The only difference is that we no longer have 40 foot Ariel’s attached to our houses and instead were using mobile technology.

No doubt there will be many challenges to Facebook and Twitter over the years yet with the number of registered people on Facebook approaching 400,000,000 it can hardly be described as “Just another website”.

Social Networking is here to stay and it should carry a health warning. Too much use can lead to an addiction. Reality needs to stay within our lives.

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British Airways cabin crew have voted in favor of strike action starting from the 22nd December running to 2nd January.

I think that any organisation has the right to ballot and stage industrial action if they feel that staff are being undervalued or mistreated. However when it comes to three organisations, The London Underground, Royal Mail and British Airways I have no sympathy at all.

When the London Underground strike the whole of London comes to a complete standstill, when the Royal Mail strike no post can get through due to the simple fact that they are the only organisation carrying out their particular service.

British Airways are a dinosaur amongst airlines. They pride themselves on their "Excellent customer service" but in reality they are one of the least efficient, overpriced and poorly run airlines that I have ever flown with.

So the cabin staff have voted to strike simply because British Airways are cutting back their staff numbers.

Message to the Cabin Crew - Were still in recession it's happening all over the world. Get over it and stop throwing your toys out of the pram.

Up to one million customers will be affected, and I am one of them. I now have to not only make alternative flight plans but also fly from another airport, all because of their mindless actions.

They may think that they have gained a moral victory over their employers but the real message is that you have ruined Christmas for families across the world.

I hope that the BA staff are proud of themselves.

Idiots.

As this decade comes to a close I am thinking of all the words that have been introduced to our everyday lives. Those words that ten years ago, as we approached the Millenium, would have meant nothing if you dropped it into a conversation.

The most obvious I can mention are

Alcopop
Bling
Bootylicious
Chav
Facebook
Hoodie
Meh
P’wned
Peng
Pimp’d
Poke
Social networking
Tase
Tweenager
Tweet
Wardrobe Malfunction
Wi-fi

What words can you add to the list!?

What on Earth was that dream about last night. I had a lot of trouble sleeping and awoke at exactly 2.45, 4.45 and 6.45 am.

I dreamt that I was in the Highlands of Scotland on a walking holiday. I got a phone call from a person (a school friend who I had not seen in some 20 years) telling me that my father had died. I remember in the dream saying “I had predicted this weeks ago”. I got a train from Scotland to Portugal and remember being told that my father had his head chopped off by a random guy.

The guy turns out to be my brother from an affair (in my dream!) that my dad had with a Swedish writer called Annika Eriksson. The brother said that he was heir to the family fortune (which I was unaware we had) and then one by one proceeded to behead every member of my family. It was only when my sister and I stopped him that I awoke in what I can only describe as a puddle of sweat.

What the hell was that all about?!

Took a test today where you had to score (out of 10) areas or your life for each of the nine years so far. As the decade comes to an end these were my results, in order, of how happy the years have been for me.

2004

2005

2001

2003

2002

2000

2007

2009

2008

2006

All in all this is quite accurate

Enligt den brittiska pressen Abba nyligen toppar en opinionsundersökning av band som folk vill se återförenade. Det har gått nästan 30 år sedan de bröt upp och cirka 22 år sedan de senast var i allmänhetens ögon. Bortsett från Mamma Mia återförening med 2007 har inte setts offentligt.

De är utan tvekan den mest framgångsrika svenska bandet genom tiderna och deras samlingsalbum är den fjärde mest sålda album i Storbritannien diagram historia. Min egen uppfattning är att vissa saker inte ska hända och en Abba återförening är en. De måste stanna som ett minne av när de var som bäst. De ser inte likadana, och jag är säker på att de inte skulle låta de samma. Så många band reformer och ett misslyckande men jag tror inte att något av dessa band är av samma omfattning som Abba.

Deras musik kommer att gå till historien som några av de bästa popmusiken för all tid och det är vad jag vill att det ska bli ihågkommen för. Let's just tack Abba for the music

As I got on the train today I found myself in a rather unusual position of actually having a seat instead of the usual standing.

I was sat next to a group of four elderly people (I would say in their 60’s) who were on their way to some convention in central London. Just as the train pulled away one of the gentleman’s phone sounded a message alert and much to his friends interest said it was a Facebook alert.

Over the next twenty minutes I listened intently as one man informed the other about the benefits of the social networking sites Facebook and Twitter concluding in the other man saying he would sign up for both. It got me thinking about the benefits of social network sites for various age groups and how we tend to use them. Certainly there are various sites that cater for the younger age bracket and it is good to see that recently the security of these sites have improved.

Now I don’t now about you but when I first joined Facebook it became very addictive, it was an avenue to meeting new people, finding old friends and sharing views on any topics that interested me. It comes as no surprise that there will be an expected 400 million members by the end of 2010. I don’t tend to use any of the novel applications as to me it is a pure method of communication.

Also since the Iphone I have become something of a Twitter addict though I have no celebrity friends on my profile (I don’t care what Kerry Katona is shoving up her nose or had for tea). Now there is Google Wave. This is Google’s attempts to bite into the instant messaging/Social networking environment. At first it appears clunky and cumbersome but I am sure once people begin it will become a vital communications tool. With all these methods of communicating with people it has never been easier to stay in touch or keep people informed about what we are up to.

E-mail somehow seems a bit too old fashioned these days, yet is it killing the art of communication? How many of us are guilty of sending a text or an email when we could so easily have made a phone call? My conclusion is that social networking is an exciting and vibrant way of re-connecting with people we have lost along the way; it is also a wonderful opportunity to meet new people. I doubt were going to see another site like Twitter or Facebook, the numbers are far too large to change.

Yet it is sad that the art of communication is dying but above all what worries me most is that these gargantuan websites, no matter how great they are monitoring our every move.

They are watching you……

What can someone write about after putting nearly 60,000 words into a novel within three weeks.

My head feels like a vacuum right now, just a vortex of empty space. I’m going to take December off from writing the novel as I need some space in order for my head to relax. It will also allow me the opportunity to read the rather excellent Stephen Lawhead. As this is the first historical novel that I have written there is no doubt that I will be influenced by his wonderful way of writing.

The chief aim for November was to complete NanoWrimo which has been done. However I slowly became obsessed with writing this story, it was the first thing I thought of and the last before I went to bed. The basics of the novel are done, I now just have to put the “flesh on the bones” as they say.

Yet now my mind feels vague, empty and void of any kind of inspiration. Exhaustion has crept it. Maybe I’ll start writing some poetry again, that could kick start the creative juices. My head, like my body needs a vacation, this is long overdue.

So today we finally see the first elected President of Europe. A leader who will have a huge £45 billion pound budget at their disposal. The power to wield laws across Europe that every country signed up to the Lisbon Treaty will have to adhere to. A man who will be elected by the current European leaders. So far I hear it has been deadlock in the choice of President.

I just pray that it is not Tony Blair. Just the mere thought of the injustice of our own unelected Prime Minister voting for the very man he not only replaced but also detested makes my blood boil. Gordon Brown is a dead man walking. Was signing the Lisbon Treaty his own way of sticking two fingers up at the British people?

So with no agreement on a candidate, the EU's 27 heads of government will arrive in Brussels this afternoon for a special summit called to select a president and foreign minister.

Despite weeks of intensive behind the scenes negotiations brokered by the Swedish president Fredrik Reinfeldt the leaders are no closer to deciding who should take the new posts.

A frustrated Mr Reinfeldt said tonight's dinner in Brussels, which was meant to be a rubber-stamping exercise, 'might take all night'.

Diplomats have warned the meeting could even run into the weekend or have to be reconvened next month. For me that is a month too long. If we have signed up for this treaty then we have to get a President sworn in as soon as possible. Maybe it will be former Latvian president Vaira Vike-Freiberga who is aiming to become President.

She called on the EU to 'stop working like the former Soviet Union' and said a woman should get one of the key posts.

Some diplomats believe the lack of a preferred candidate means it is still possible that Tony Blair might get the £270,000-a-year job, despite earlier suggestions that his bid is fading.

Downing Street yesterday said that Gordon Brown remained 'full square' behind the former PM's bid.

Reinhard Bettzuege, German ambassador in Brussels, let slip yesterday that Chancellor Angela Merkel is backing the Belgian Prime Minister Herman Van Rompuy for the presidency.

Mrs Merkel is said not to be a fan of Mr Blair, reportedly commenting that she didn't like the idea of 'having to listen to Mr Flash all the time'.

Mr Van Rompuy, 62, is the frontrunner but has been unable to cement his position.

Britain has signaled its opposition to Mr Van Rompuy, who supports the introduction of new EU taxes.

There are still no official candidates, and yet more than half a dozen politicians are said to be in the running.

Mr Van Rompuy may reign victorious simply by virtue of being the least offensive candidate.

Mr Blair is the best known of the candidates and was the early favorite.

Either way the thing that I feel shocks me the most is that the UK public are so unaware of this very vote. Amidst the tedious X-Factor and I’m A Celebrity this news has been put so far back in the pecking order it’s not even amusing. It appears that Katie Price (Jordan) breast or Jedward are far more important topical discussions than who is about to be elected the most powerful person in Europe.

That is the thing that worries me about most people in the UK, they are being brainwashed by boring reality TV shows and simply not taking enough interest in the very issues that will affect their daily lives.

Wake up people.

(Extract from The Daily Mail)

So there we have it another NanoWrimo completed.

 

50,000 words written in the month of November though I would admit that I have finished it some two weeks early. Usually I plan NanoWrimo and once the novel is complete I leave it. This year However that has changed.

 

I really am pleased with the way this novel has turned out, the characters evolved beyond my expectations and I do have a complete story (though I am still working on the ending!)

 

My aim was to get a basic plot of the book in rough form and then once the 50,000 goal was reached I will take a month off over December to refresh my mind and then start proof reading in January before really putting some meat on the bones of the novel and ensure that the reader is left with a novel they really can get lost it.

 

Not sure why I called it “The Chimes” though, there is not one mention of a clock so I may just have to put that in.

Firstly sorry for the lack of updates on the blog. As it's NanoWrimo I have spent the most of this month writing the plot for "The Chimes of Eleanor".

The past few days I have witnessed something that I have been meaning to write a blog about. This past year there have been many references to what is now being described as "Broken Britain", a term that sums up how bad the standard of life currently is in the United Kingdom.

Anyone who reads my blog would agree that, I personally, feel that the quality of life in the UK is shocking. Crime is on the increase, unemployment is at it's highest for 19 years, homelessness on the increase. Add this to the ever increasing population growth and the poor health standards many of the tabloids would label us as a "third world nation".

Yet in reality were not that bad. Times are hard I will be the first to admit but, we as a nation, have survived FAR worse. Were a nation that has survived two world wars, two major recessions and I know were swimming against the tide of this one. Basically the political embarrassment that is the Labour government have just run around in circles like headless chickens trying to get us back on our feet. Now I am not saying that David Cameron’s government elect are going to fare any better but, come on, they can hardly be any worse.

The youth of this country have had to bear the brunt of this decline of standards within our society. A "nation of thuggish chavs", "booze Britain" are just a handful of headlines I have read of late. If the press were to be believed then all teenagers are uneducated drunken yobs wearing hoodies and carrying knives. Of course there is a major increase in knife related crime but not all teenagers are bad.

The past few months I have witnessed in London teenagers politely talking, giving up their seats for elderly people, behaving in a mature manner far above their years. Yet it was last night when two drunken guys around my age started to harass a woman on the train. One was asking her out whilst the other grabbed her hand and said "No ring, so let's go out on a date". I made my way to see if I could intervene but before I had got there the group of around nine or ten teenagers had not only held the guys back but had called the guard and a teenage girl was comforting the woman.

The police were called and the two drunks removed.

The UK press have a lot to answer for in their general labeling of teenagers in the UK. We were all teenagers once, we knew how things were. Times have not changed we just got older.

Give the youth of today a break. Not all the seeds in this apple are bad.

I don’t know about you but there is something very magical about autumn. Maybe it is because it is the season of my birth.  Possibly it is due to the brilliant colours that stand before our very eyes replacing the one dimensional summer green.

As the cold air hits us many do not like to admit their love for this season, yet I do.

A time of calm before we all rush around in the manic lead up to Christmas, a period where I like to appreciate nature more.  It is dry enough to enjoy some beautiful country walks this time of year.  I am guilty of living in a city so large that we tend to become part of that city and venturing out is often seen as some kind of chore and hassle.  But not for me.

Take a train the opposite way and within twenty minutes I am surrounded by a beautiful trail of autumnal colours that akin to a blanket on the forest floor, many animals begin to hibernate, some now greet us as seasonal guests.

Cooking is also an interesting time too in the winter, the health foods of summer are now replaced by more warming, interesting foods, the spices that I cook with are perfect for this time of year.  A cold beer is replaced with local ale and all seems different with the world.  If people do not change with autumn then they will miss the magic each year.

The perfect magic of autumn

Standing up she gently began pacing the small and rather clostraphobic room she found herself in. The rain outside pounded the single glazed window like some enthusiastic drummer beating a worn out skin. She looked haggard, weak, and vulnerable; far from the beauty queen she once proudly wore the crown. She knew she was in hospital she just did not know why, the memory was a mere haze, the last twenty-four hours nothing but a blur.

Hobbling over to the window she knew that she would be discharged this evening but how it quite got to this stage only fate knew. She was Eleanor, a twenty-one year old university student in Oxford. If you looked at her life from an observational perspective you would not see anything too abnormal. But inside Eleanor was a whirlwind of emotions.

Her life up to then had been one that most women her age would not live if they had their lifetime to live ten times over. Beauty queen, model and musician. Many stayed clear of her, they were unsure about her persona, yet deep down Eleanor knew that her attitude had caused her life thus far to be one of pure isolation. She knew that she did not belong in this time.

Each day that she awoke she would shudder at the mere observation of any modern-day mentions. The posters on her wall were of centuries past artists, her books were copies of literature at least half a century old. Yet surrounded by the modern-day technology that many took for granted, Eleanor was just a mere spectator in a world she did not belong

Rolling back her bandage she rubbed her sore wound with her hands as she watched the rain lash against the window pane. She had somehow wound up in hospital, she felt giddy, weak almost yet even though the machine in the room that was monitoring her heartbeat played a beat akin to a medieval drum she knew time here was short. She glanced at the clock on the wall; it was five minutes to midday.
Damned impatience was providing an eternal cramp in the back of her neck.

Sighing she turned to face the bed that she had spent the last fifteen hours in, just like her bed at home it was cold, hard, unwelcoming and somewhat barren in any form of comfort. She slumped into her chair and looked at the mirror, the gaunt face that stared back at her bore nothing to the resemblance she once knew. Yet even though the fake glow of the beauty queen had long left her face she knew that in this shadow pale reflection she looked more radiant and beautiful than ever.

Her gaze was broken by the chimes of the church bell opposite. Each one echoed within her heart, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven….

Eleanor never heard the twelfth and final chime. Maybe it was the weakness, maybe it was the lack of fresh air. Somehow she slumped to the floor, twice in the same day her head had hit the floor hard. Yet this time, this moment the fall would not land her in hospital.

No

This time it would land her in a place where her heart would feel at home but her mind would not belong. An eternal place where love exists and dreams come true. Her eyes were closed yet her heart was so open.

The journey had just begun. A journey of love, hope, pain, irony and above all despair.

It is not often that I write about politics. Much like religion and war it is a topic that can be too explosive to discuss yet recent events have raised my eyebrows on this issue.

For those of you who do not know there is a party based in the UK called the British Nationalist Party (BNP). The British National Party was formed by John Tyndall, co-founder of the National Front, in 1982. He led the BNP until 1999 and died in 2005. Until 2001, the party advocated forced "repatriation" of non-whites. It currently backs an immediate halt to all immigration, and the "voluntary resettlement" of legal immigrants and British citizens of foreign descent to "their lands of ethnic origin". But its whites-only membership policy has been successfully challenged in court by the Equality and Human Rights Commission and Mr Griffin will now have to persuade the membership to ditch what has been one of their core principles.  Until recently the party had enjoyed very limited electoral success. But now have two seats in the European Parliament one of which is held by leader Nick Griffin.

The BNP have been invited onto the political debate show, Question Time. Due to the political views that this party holds it has been met with protests and a barrage of complaints towards the BBC. Deputy Director General Mark Byford has said it is not the BBC's role to censor the BNP as criticism mounts ahead of the party's Question Time appearance. He said the BNP's Euro vote meant the BBC had to allow it on as part of it’s "responsibility of due impartiality". Cabinet minister Peter Hain had asked the BBC to rethink its invitation to the whites-only political party. Even Ex-London Mayor Ken Livingstone said the BBC would bear moral responsibility for any "spike" in racist attacks.

No doubt there is a lot of hatred towards the BNP. I for one cannot understand their policies nor there rule that only white people can join the party. The UK has many ethnicities that make up its population, possibly more than any other European Country. Having a party that bases its fundamental rule of membership is not only outdated it is extremely embarrassing.

Some protesters have already gathered outside BBC Television Centre in London ahead of the appearance of British National Party leader Nick Griffin, who is a Euro MP, on the hour-long flagship BBC political programme Question Time.

Mr Livingstone told BBC Radio 4's Today programme: "Unlike any other party, when Nick Griffin speaks, or when they get elected in an area, what we see is an increase in racial attacks. He comes on, says his bit, does his bit, but for the angry racist it's the trigger that turns into an attack. And we first saw this when Enoch Powell made his 'rivers of blood' speech, there was a huge surge of attacks on black conductors on our buses." But Mr Byford told the same programme: "They should have the right to be heard, be challenged, and for the public who take part in Question Time and the viewers to make up their own minds about the views of the BNP. It's not for the BBC to censor and say they can't be on."

Mr Hain's appeal to the BBC Trust to stop Mr Griffin appearing was rejected on Wednesday. The trust said it was a "question of editorial judgment" whether it was appropriate for the BNP to appear. And BBC director general Mark Thompson, writing in the Guardian newspaper, said the case against having the BNP on Question Time was "a case for censorship". He said only governments could decide which organisations should be banned from the airwaves. The BBC Trust has asked Mr Thompson to ensure the pre-recorded programme is within BBC guidelines.

The decision to allow Mr Griffin, whose party won two seats in the European Parliament in elections in June, has prompted an outcry among anti-fascist protesters. Mr Thompson argued that where organisations were deemed to be "beyond the pale" they were proscribed and/or banned from the airwaves by - and only by -governments.

Downing Street said on Monday that the prime minister did not oppose the BBC decision to have the BNP on the programme, saying Gordon Brown believed it was important to expose what a party stood for. The BBC has also been defended by the comedian Russell Brand, who resigned from Radio 2 after the row over prank phone calls to the actor Andrew Sachs. Writing in the Sun newspaper, Brand said his former employers were "right to grant a forum" to the BNP and that the audience should be allowed to draw its own conclusions. BNP spokesman Simon Darby said the party would use its own security to get Mr Griffin safely inside the building and there would be no counter-demonstration by the BNP.

And Mr Griffin told The Times: "I thank the political class and their allies for being so stupid. The huge furore that the political class has created around it clearly gives us a whole new level of public recognition."

I think there is a valid case there. Any political party has the right to be invited to take part in debates no matter if they are on the radio or TV. The BNP will go and TV and hopefully embarrass themselves in the debate that occurs. The audience will be made up of may ethnicities and I hope that Nick Griffin is bombarded with questions that he simply will not be able to answer. The BNP are a poison in British Politics an outdated, out of touch racist gathering that only attract the vote of people who have not considered the alternatives to whoever is in power. A vote for the BNP is a wasted vote in my opinion and by squirming on a live TV debate this could be the embarrassing nail in this political party’s life.

At night as the moon rises, a light shines upon this land

Love beckons two eternal souls, they walk hand in hand

Each day their love grows stronger, a moment they cannot miss

Xcitement rules the time they share, lost in a momentary kiss

A perfect symmetry, two hearts they beat as one

Nobody but the two lovers, they walk into the sun

Destiny is theirs to live, their lives begin this day

Every kiss tells a new story, each smile shall lead the way

Reaching out he holds her, never letting go

Loving her with all his heart, that's all she needs to know

Only she can captivate his heart, like a bullet from a gun

Very few can feel like this, he is her eternal sun

Endless dreams they plan, not thinking of the past

Sensations that they find in love, are surely built to last

Sunsets and sunrises, two of natures special things

In time they share each others glow, and the beauty that love brings

Giving each other their own hearts, they are meant to be as one

Reaching out to walk this life, their journey has just begun

Immortal love is told in tales, as Romeo loved Juliet

Destiny is yours now to behold, this poem please don not forget.

The Arctic Ocean could be largely ice-free and open to shipping during the summer in as little as ten years' time, a top polar specialist has said.

"It's like man is taking the lid off the northern part of the planet," said Professor Peter Wadhams, from the University of Cambridge.

Professor Wadhams has been studying the Arctic ice since the 1960s.

He was speaking in central London at the launch of the findings of the Catlin Arctic Survey.

The expedition trekked across 435km of ice earlier this year.

The survey route - to the north of Canada - had been expected to cross areas of older "multi-year" ice which is thicker and more resilient.

When the ridges of ice between floes are included, the expedition found an average thickness of 4.8m.

Professor Wadhams said: "The Catlin Arctic Survey data supports the new consensus view - based on seasonal variation of ice extent and thickness, changes in temperatures, winds and especially ice composition - that the Arctic will be ice-free in summer within about 20 years, and that much of the decrease will be happening within 10 years.

"That means you'll be able to treat the Arctic as if it were essentially an open sea in the summer and have transport across the Arctic Ocean."

According to Professor Wadhams, faster shipping and easier access to oil and gas reserves were among short-term benefits of the melting.

But in the longer-term, losing a permanent feature of the planet risked accelerated warming, changing patterns of circulation in the oceans and atmosphere, and having unknown effects on ecosystems through the acidification of waters.

Pen Hadow said he was shocked by the image of how "in my lifetime we're looking at changing how the planet looks from space."

He also described how polar explorers were having to change their methods from the days when sledges could be pulled by dogs over the ice.

"Dogs can swim but they can't tow a sledge through water which is what's needed now."

"Now we have to wear immersion suits and swim and we need sledges that can float. I can foresee needing sledges that are more like canoes that you also pull over the ice."

This to me is quite a shocking article. I know that often the awareness of environmental issues is sometimes ignored due to other news about worldly events but this is possibly the most frightening I have heard in a long time.

Often we are ignorant in our defense that “It will not effect our generation” or that in many cases it is not near enough for us to be concerned about. But the fact that the second largest range of ice on our planet is now going to disappear during the summer not only shocks but appalls me. Man is going to pillage and plunge the rare oil resource like a leech sucking blood.

What then? The Antarctic? Mankind may be the most intelligent and dominant species this planet has ever seen yet it is also the most destructive.

So at last you have admitted the truth.

A decade after you first spilled your lies about me I have held my tongue, bitten it so hard it bled. The lies that your mouth spewed year after year, Spring to winter my reputation and dignity extinguished in a flame of self despair.

I remember that year well, the eyes that I once looked into and laughed now looked at me with hate, despair, and disbelief. Friends, colleagues even family turn their back on you; surely the words that you said were so strong, so unbelievable that nobody would lie about that.

The pain was so unbearable that I had to remove myself from my home time and move to a new city, a cold place where I knew nobody. My souls was charred, my spirit crippled, my dreams shattered. Nobody asked my for my side. Parents, family all looked at with me with not an ounce of trust or love.

Yet I could not die. For over ten years I heard the whispers "How could he, he was such a lovely guy", "I cannot believe how we did not see through this". Yet I knew that one day it would all be out. The rains of spring, the blistering heat of the summer, the chill of the fall and the harshness of countless winters, those seasons protected me as my soul began the process of self repair. Dignity, pride, the will to carry on those are things that you just cannot kill, resilience and self dignity are two emotions that you cannot drown.

Gradually year by year my footsteps to home got closer, I knew I was not welcome, I knew that I could not return. I longed to feel home again; I yearned to feel the familiar scent of the land I once called my abode. During the interim I did meet those who helped my heart heel, met those who hurt me yet compared to the pain I endured with you it was like being stung by a bee compared to your bullet into the heart.

Eventually I wondered if people would forget my name, could they, would they? My mind was my inner sanctum your was your words of mass destruction. I heard the laughter that you caused, the name I once wrote with pride killed off with such venom and hatred even the Devil would have applauded your efforts.

Now ten years on you admit the truth. Why not? After all the name was so blasphemous that it would not matter, the poisonous lies that you spilt, those lies that turned my once bright soul into complete darkness was dead and buried. I heard many just stayed silent, no doubt my parents and family were wondering not just why you lied but also if it is too late to heal the bridge between us.

What did happen to "me?"

Do any wonder? Do any conceive if I am now an alcoholic or homeless person lying in a gutter? Where is the once smiling man?

Word is that he gave up and forgave you and all those who despised him; rumour is that he just curled up and died. Did he forgive and forget?

Did he fuck.

The process of healing not only excluded me to my own self imposed exile and sanctuary, it gave me the opportunity to learn how to fight back with the venom the likes of which you cannot imagine.

Do not reap my whirlwind Bitch, look me in the eye and face the hurricane of my destruction. It's heading your way.

As the London Evening Standard becomes a free newspaper - life is about to change for many of the street vendors who are a familiar sight across the city. Some are leaving their jobs altogether, while others are moving pitches. Jamie Taylor's family has sold the Evening Standard at London Bridge Station for nearly 80 years - but, as he explains, that tradition is coming to an end.

Watch the Audio

In a world of isolation eternally I walked alone

A bloody trail of footsteps, my skin worn to the bone

Beating of my charcoaled heart did stop long ago

Mind of eternal indecision swaying to and fro

Unexpected salvation appeared before thy eyes

Keep me embraced in solitude, hidden from the lies

Raven wings surround me, my strength increased tenfold

The love that you have shown me, makes my soul so bold

A gift that you provided, kept me safe from pain

This I now return to you as we shelter from the rain

Our lips entwine like fire, an inferno of pure lust

Excelling even love itself, this emotion that we trust

The world is now out playground, the trail we step as two

My heart is yours eternally, a gift from me to you.

Living in a city like London or Stockholm you often get dragged into the mundane 9-5 routine all week. A cruel and bitter path where life can seem to just stagnate into a meaningless task. The mornings start earlier, you get home later. Lunches turn into sandwiches at your desk and the feeling that you no longer know where they days are going start to creep into your mind.

Though we sometimes tend to feel trapped in isolation we do make a stern effort to keep our mind and body active it can be worn down time and time again. I have always led the belief that just having one creative outlet in life can make all the difference. There is of course they physical escape, maybe going to the gym or taking the dog for a walk but I don't know about you but each time I do that I find that my brain is as empty as my Starbuck's coffee cup.

Having a creative outlet in my life is something that I value. It keep my mind focused and helps maintain a positive field of energy, you may even call it excitement. Now I don't class doing a Sodoku puzzle as creative, nor a crossword simply due to the fact that the creativity has already gone into the puzzle your just "filling in the gaps". Creativity to me is starting directly from scratch, taking an idea and seeing it right through to the end. It can be writing, drawing, a dance or a song that you have made up or much more.

No matter what it is that one creative escape is all that I require to keep the thought in my mind that there is something to look forward to at the end of the day. On a day like today where the skies were grey, the rain lashed down outside in torrents I knew that the start of next months writing was going to occupy my every thought.

That in itself money simply just cannot buy.

Sunsets mark the end of day as a kiss begins a day so new
A moment so frozen in time, a perfect sky of blue
Rarely will a soul entwine it's roots into my heart
A moment of love from yesteryear yet we are so apart
Heaven grant serenity and let love flood into my soul
Always and forever more I feel out of control
Heaven give me the feeling that I have somehow missed
Carefree emotions I feel now I feel so sun-kissed
Each second of every day, your in my thoughts so deep
Clarity from each waking moment to the moment that I sleep
Internally I feel so high like I'm free-falling from the sky
Later I will answer the ultimate question that is Why...
I feel so deep, I feel so high, a woman like you is sent from heaven
A queen of all the angels, my lucky number seven
Lay me down on a bed of roses do not wake me from this dream
Every second of every hour, equals my perfect dream....
Never have I felt such bliss your heart is the churchbell to my soul
Only an angel from the highest cloud can ever take control
Reach out and take my hand as we entwine upon this beach
Each letter of each line spells the message I am trying to reach

This map plots the 13,000 McDonald's restaurants in the USA. The 'McMap' is the brainchild of American blogger Stephen Von Worley.

He has even pinpointed the 'McFarthest Spot' in the US.

This is the area of America furthest away from the nearest McDonald's.

According the map it lies somewhere in the state of South Dakota with the closest restaurant lying 145 miles away.

In the day where obesity is one of the highest causes of death in the States and latest statistics show that 80% of US Children are obese this image is a shocking reminder to parents that it is essential their children are given a healthy diet.

Maybe it was my high metabolism as a child or the fact that I was not part of the "Console Generation", but if I were a parent I would place my child's health as the priority in their life.

A bone fragment believed to be part of Adolf Hitler's skull has been revealed as being that of an unidentified woman, US scientists have said.

The section of bone - marked with a bullet hole - was used to support the theory that Hitler shot himself.

Russian scientists said the skull piece was found alongside Hitler's jawbone and had put it on display in Moscow.

But US scientists said DNA tests revealed it actually belonged to a woman aged between 20 and 40.

An archaeologist from the University of Connecticut travelled to Moscow, where the fragment has been on show in the city's federal archive since 2000, to take a sample.
Nick Bellantoni said he had suspected even before the bone was tested that the fragment did not come from an adult male.

"The bone was very small and thin, and normally male bones are much more robust in our species," he said.

"I thought it probably came from a woman or a younger man."

DNA tests confirmed that the bone fragment came from a female.

Doubts about exactly how Hitler died have persisted for decades.

Russian officials said that the bodies of Hitler and Eva Braun - who reportedly committed suicide in a Berlin bunker in 1945 - were removed from a shell crater shortly after they died.

The piece of skull forms part of a collection that also includes a section of a bloodstained sofa where Hitler is believed to have shot himself after swallowing a cyanide pill.

There is also a very popular rumor that Hitler was the famous Argentine art collector Father Crespi (Or Krespi)

World War II had ended. A former Nazi Intelligence Officer named Magda Zeitfeld had offered her services to the United States Government. She had actually arraigned her surrender to Col. Kevin Stapleford, who was then one of the highest-ranking members of the OSS (Allied Intelligence)
Magda's father was a pioneer in the use of implanted facial prosthetics, and had operated the largest plastic surgery clinic in Germany. This clinic had received much of its financing from the Nazi Government. Magda's
father had made sure that both she and her brother completed medical school, and were both to become highly involved in the family run clinic. All three were accredited plastic surgeons.

As war broke out, Magda had been commissioned in the German Army, and had been assigned to German Intelligence, working, according to her, with the SS. After her surrender, she told Allied Intelligence of an incident that occurred in the fall of 1943. She spoke of three high level Nazi officials that were brought into her father's clinic under conditions of extreme secrecy and security. Her father and her brother were instructed to alter the appearance of these three men. No means of identification were ever given to Magda's father, and no records were to be kept of the procedure that he was about to conduct. The men were kept from view of the staff as much as possible, and their heads were covered with hoods and bandages. Only at the time of surgery would Magda's father and brother be allowed to see the faces of these men.

Magda claims, that her father was required to come up with drawings of possible changes that could be made to these men's faces, and she aided her father with the drawings. She reported that these men choose to have their faces altered to have exaggerated Semitic features.

A schedule was given to the doctor, which detailed a timeframe for when the surgery and necessary healing time had to be completed. Magda claimed that she and her family had gathered bits and pieces of information which indicated the men were to board a submarine in Bremerhaven after the healing was complete.
When the surgery was complete, and the need time for healing was reached, the men were removed with just as much secrecy and security as there was on their arrival.

Magda claims, that unknown to the SS, she and her family had been well aware of who two of these men were. She told Allied Intelligence that one of the men was Adolph Hitler, another was Martin Borman, and they did not know who the third man was.

Magda was well acquainted with Hitler. She had supervised a program, which altered the appearance of four men to look like Hitler. Some of the work had actually been performed in her family's clinic.

Magda claimed that the four men all had the same height and build as Hitler, and through the use of implants and various surgical procedures, had their facial features altered to look like Hitler. These men were then instructed on movement as well as speech patterns. They mastered his distinctive walk as well as mannerisms. And they mastered his soft-spoken conversational speaking style. But none could be taught to mimic his public speaking style and voice. Thus, these doubles could only be used for private meetings and appearances where Hitler would not be expected to carry on much interaction with those in attendance. In point of fact, Hitler never gave a public speech after the fall of 1943, also, it is known that much of his personal staff were re-assigned in the fall of 1943 as well.

Another interesting fact is that two weeks after the three men left the clinic, the SS conducted a raid. During this raid, the entire staff including Magda's father and her brother was brutally killed and the clinic was burned to the ground. All records were burned with the clinic.

t is known that during the last year of the war, Hitler's medical records were destroyed, and all the doctors who had seen him mysteriously vanished. The single exception was a young dental assistant who was called in to assist a dentist with cleaning Hitler's teeth two times. She was
later captured by the Russian Army and made to make a drawing of Hitler's teeth so the Russians could match the charred remains they found in the Berlin bunker with her drawing since no authentic dental records could be found. After days of torture, she still had only a vague memory of the actual teeth of Hitler, but the Russians decided that it was a match. Stalin was never convinced but could not allow the world to think that Hitler had escaped the Russian Army.
In 1981, a retired US Army Colonel named Wendell Stephens made a trip to Ecuador. During his trip, he met a priest in a small town called Cuenca. The priest was named Father Krespi, and Col. Stephens was convinced he was in fact Adolph Hitler. He could not get people to listen to his claims that this priest was in fact Hitler. He examined thousands of Hitler photos, and was more and more concerned he has found Hitler. He even described priceless artwork that Father Krespi had in his secluded home in the mountains of Ecuador. But nobody would listen to his claims.

After her surrender at wars end, Magda had eventually married US Army Col Kevin Stapleford, the very man she had surrendered to. Col Stapleford had also known Col Stephens. In 1981, Stapleford had passed away, and Stephens made a visit to his widow Magda. During his visit, he explained his meeting with Father Krespi and his suspicions, and convinced Magda to accompy him to visit Father Krespi and confirm or deny his suspicions.

When Magda met Krespi, she too was sure it was in fact Hitler. He had the same features she had helped her father sketch out all those years ago. And she also was convinced by a specific piece of art that the Father had. She knew it as the same piece of art that had been a favorite of Hitler's. It had hung behind him at his Reich Chancellery Office, there was no mistake.

Father Krespi's background is also mysterious, and does in fact go along with Magda's accounts of what happened. Krespi claims he is from an Italian/Austrian family in Northern Italy. He came to the Vatican in fall of 1943. There, he attended seminary and served as a Novitiate. Later, he was ordained into the priesthood. All this was behind the closed walls of the Vatican. Unheard at the time, and has never been repeated since. He never set foot outside of Vatican City, a city with the status and diplomatic immunity of a sovereign nation. Krespi was given a position as Curator of Art for the Vatican Achieves, a position far above his humble rank as Novitiate.

His position made him responsible for cataloging a collection of art worth billions of dollars. He would also have been in a position to receive priceless art collections, similar to those that had been looted by the Nazis and somehow fell into the hands of the Vatican after the war.

Krespi spoke fluent Italian with a perfect accent. Magda later pointed out the fact that Hitler's mother was from Northern Italy and spoke Italian as her first language. Hitler himself learned Italian as his first language, and spoke Italian almost always in Italian until he was around 12
years old. He would even revert to Italian when he was angry, and never used an interpreter when he met with Mussolini.

In 1956, Krespi was sent as a priest to the town of Cuence in Ecuador. A town known to Nazis Hunters as a hideout of Martin Borman and other high level Nazis that had escaped Germany. There, he lived a reclusive life as village priest and reportedly gave money to every member of his congregation at the conclusion of services. He also reportedly paid the villagers to protect his mission. Villagers say German men often visited him.

In 1993, Father Krespi died, reportedly at the age of 90. More than 2000 people attended his funeral, which was marked with ceremony rivaling that of a King. He was laid to rest in a white marble sepulcher, which is still reported to be cleaned weekly, and adorned with flowers constantly, all paid for by anonymous admirers.

After his passing, some interesting things were discovered about him. He left behind millions of dollars worth of artwork. Magda and others later identified much of this artwork as belonging to the private collection of Adolph Hitler. Hitler was a known collector of art, and most of his private collection was never found after the war. Witnesses say that soon after the funeral on May 16 1993, two cargo jets were loaded with Father Krespi's art collection and departed. It has never been seen again.

The Chief of Police for the town of Cuence reported that what he termed as "teams of European men" invaded the small town the day prior to the funeral. Several attendees of the funeral were German, and had armed escorts.

Is it possible that the most evil man in the history of the world escaped justice and posed as a man of God for 40 years? We may never know, but it is something to think about...

(Article extract from BBC & A.M. Pretty II)

Father Krespi

Gently I lay her down to sleep, this night is ours alone
Eternity granted this wish, we gaze into the unknown
Not knowing where we are today, not looking to the past
Each moment that I share with you, I wish it could just last
Sensation is a part of life, does not matter if it’s right or wrong
All the time I think of you it cannot justify “our song”
Love can take eternity, yet we seem to lose control
Overdrive is within our heart, we need to find our soul
In time I know that we will find the gateway to our life
Understanding who we are, even if were man or wife
Sensational beauty you behold, your love is so unfound
Eternal love I give to thee my heart is off the ground
Each moment of the day gone by I need you in my arms
Velocity you ive to me, you keep me safe from harm
Everlasting love Genesa I will give to you
Reach out into my arms my love it is so true
Sunset turns into sunrise and each day we wake up together
Only time will tell if you love me and if we are so clever
Now I blow you a kiss, we are two as one
X marks the spot that I love you so, is it real or fun?

Hollywood is cashing in on the nostalgia factor, as it remakes another 1980s favourite - Fame.
Despite a different cast and slightly updated music, it still has the same dream - and is just one of many old movies being resurrected for the modern day.

Fame's cast members are declaring it is more of a "reinvention rather than a remake".
Naturi Naughton, who plays one of the lead characters Denise, said: "We had a great director who wanted to create this vision of keeping in step with the original but not being afraid to step outside of what people would expect."

Dirty Dancing was a surprise hit when originally released and it's that success - and profit - that has inspired Hollywood to try to recreate it.

Others are in the pipeline too, including Clash Of The Titans, Nightmare On Elm Street and The Karate Kid which will star Jackie Chan and Will Smith's son, Jaden. Disney is also planning a remake of Flight Of The Navigator, with Short Circuit and Robocop rumoured to be on their way too.

Hollywood director Sam Mendes believes the surge in remakes is all down to fear. "I think they're interested in anything that doesn't lose them their jobs," he said. "The idea of making something that was once a success gives them a sense of safety but it's dangerous." It doesn't just stop on the big screen either.
Knight Rider is already on TV with a new cast and Teen Wolf, Michael J. Fox's cult 80s film, will reappear as a series on MTV.

Sequels are also proving popular with Frost/Nixon star Michael Sheen set to appear in the follow-up to Tron.
But director Jon Amiel, the man behind Creation, says it's a dangerous move because of what it means for the movie industry in the long term.

"My industry is driven by fear at the moment. Instead of passion and commitment, it's more committee and consensus.

"This interest in rebooting franchises is because people feel safer if it's Batman 2 or Spiderman 3. But ultimately, fear is the enemy of creativity."

There's no doubt about it the 80s are back, at least on the big screen.
Whether you loved the movies of the era or not, get ready - they look set to stay for a while yet.

In my opinion Hollywood should leave the 80’s alone. The movies may have had more original and far better plots than today’s large budget movies but they represented and portrayed a decade that was far removed from the world we live in today. For that reason alone let us enjoy and remember these wonderful movies with the fondness and love they deserve.

A hulking mass of evergreen

Changes direction in the wind

Eyes following my every move

Judging me as though I’ve sinned

Trees will play a symphony

Of a truly haunting sound

Tracks of life made yesterday

Buried in the ground

The tall and mighty oak trees

Titans in this land

A comforting protection

Branches entwine my hand

Those who dare to enter

Dare not now look back

The eyes are all that glow my friend

In a sea of eternal black

You cannot own the forest

A kingdom you cannot own

Roots buried oh so deep

History unknown

Only those who understand this

Can reach the forests heart

Then the true love can begin, this is just the start

Celebrity chef Keith Floyd has died following a heart attack, aged 65.

He died at his partner's Dorset home on Monday, said his autobiography ghost-writer, James Steen. Floyd had been diagnosed with bowel cancer in June.

From Faringdon in Oxfordshire, Floyd shot to fame in the 1980s in ground-breaking cookery shows, fronted with huge enthusiasm and wineglass in hand.

Chef Marco Pierre White described Floyd as a "natural cook" who had "inspired a nation" with his programmes.

Floyd's idiosyncratic, often shambolic style of presentation endeared him to millions of viewers around the world. White said: "What he did to inspire a nation, I don't know another man who has done what he has done.

"He had this great ability at the stove, great confidence. He was a natural cook.

"But his very special talent was he could articulate himself and deliver inspiration with words. He spoke in a way that everybody could understand."

He added: "He enriched many people's lives. It's very sad.

"A little piece of Britain died yesterday which will never be replaced.

"He was an individual, he was a maverick, he was mercurial, he was magical, he was special, he was rare."

Wine-fuelled flamboyance

Floyd opened his first restaurant, Floyd's Bistro, in Bristol, at the age of 22, and its success quickly led to him running three establishments.

But a lack of business acumen that would plague him throughout his career soon forced him to sell up, after which a restaurant in France also proved a failure.

It was on his return to Bristol, running a new bistro near the BBC studios in the city, that Floyd was discovered by television producer David Pritchard.

Their 1985 series, Floyd on Fish, was an instant hit, and subsequent series took the chef all over the world.

The programmes were ground-breaking at the time for taking the cooking out of a studio, but it was Floyd's wine-fuelled flamboyance that viewers loved.

As I was packing up my stuff today I found my diaries from 2001-2007.  After spending most of the day reading them I wanted to share this entry with you from December 2006. After living with my ex for 3 years I had to find a flate mate for the last two months of my tenancy. What I was not expecting was a person who would change my life forever, yet a person I would never see again. The best friend I never had.

16 December 2006

Well that was different. Where have the last six weeks gone? In fact where has the past four years gone? I never expected any person to change my life so instantly but you really achieved this.


Right now as I drink this beer the snow is falling on the ground outside, the illuminations of Canary Wharf shine on the house like a lighthouse to a shore. The house is empty, this house, our was it our house? I give up even thinking.

Was four years ago when I moved in with my “ex”, even now the sound of that still feels strange, it has been 3 months since we broke up yet she still texts me. She knows that the minute a relationship is over I will never go back to it; all memories destroyed all traces erased. I know she cheated on me but I guess the initial feeling of anger is rather over the way she made me stay in this house, she knew that we had another four months to lease. So whilst it was ok for her to move out and start again with her new man I was left to remain in this “prison”, not being able to afford the rent, not being able to erase the memories. That in itself was the coldest act of all. It was like a torture.

So I had to rent the spare room out, only for two months as I am leaving just after the New Year. What sort of person would rent a room for just two months? Would I attract a party freak? Or someone who just locks themselves away? I did not care it was only for eight weeks.

But there you were. Marie. You came in with a sense of humour in an incredibly bad time. In the six weeks that you have been here you have changed my life. Though I was walking around like a zombie you shook me down, dusted me off and made me feel somewhat human again.

Of all the years that you have been alive I know that no friend has made such an impact as you did. The irony is that I doubt you ever knew that you did this, you were just being yourself. The last day we shared as friends was one I don’t think I will ever forget. That lovely Indian meal then Christmas shopping in Greenwich. I hope your friends and boyfriend enjoy their presents!

So as I sit here, drinking my beer and the snow drifts down as gently as can be I think of the time I moved into the house and my imminent departure. The three years I spent with my ex and the six weeks I spent with a complete stranger.

The conclusion is that the three years I spent with her will soon become nothing more than a distant memory. The last six weeks will stay with me forever. Thank you for waking me up.

A sad day for Uk Radio

Sir Terry Wogan has announced he is to step down as presenter of BBC Radio 2's breakfast show.

The 71-year-old told his listeners he was stepping down shortly after Monday's 0800 news bulletin, calling it "the hardest thing I have ever done".

"It touches me deeply that I've played a part in your lives for, it seems, like generations," Sir Terry said.

Chris Evans, Radio 2's drivetime host, will take over after Sir Terry stands down at the end of the year.

Breakfast show listeners have already reacted strongly to the news on internet forums and chat rooms.

However, Sir Terry said he was sure they would welcome his "good friend" Evans "with the same love and affection you've always shown to me".

e went on to reveal he would host a new live radio show in the New Year, details of which will be announced at a later date.

"This is not goodbye - not even au revoir," he continued.

The veteran broadcaster first hosted the breakfast show in 1972, returning to the role in 1993.

Wake Up to Wogan is the UK's most popular breakfast radio show with 7.93 million each week.

The final edition is expected to be broadcast on 18 December.

Evans previously hosted Radio 1's breakfast show, bowing out in January 1997.

He took over Radio 2's drivetime show, which runs daily from 1700 to 1900, in April 2006.

Radio 2 controller Bob Shennan has paid tribute to Sir Terry, saying his contribution over the past 16 years had been "immeasurable".

"His unique talent has provided millions of listeners with the soundtrack to their morning."

Tim Davie, the BBC's director of audio and music, echoed those sentiments, calling the Irish broadcaster a "legendary talent".

"I'd like to thank Terry for entertaining his army of fans for many years and I'm delighted that he has agreed to continue to entertain the nation on Radio 2."

Writing on his BBC blog, Evans - winner of two prizes at this year's Sony Radio Academy Awards - wished Sir Terry luck with his future endeavours.

"To step down from something you have done so well and for so long and obviously still enjoy doing must be a tough call, even for such a stoic as Sir Tel," he wrote.

"I promise I will do my utmost not to let you and your listeners down.

'Huge personality'

The announcement, he said, "was supposed to happen in two weeks' time" but had been brought forward due to press reports.

"Although I will miss the drivetime show which I have loved for the last three-and-a-bit years, I couldn't be more excited at the prospect of hosting the flagship show on one of the BBC's national networks."

"Taking over the reins of the Radio 2 Breakfast Show is a daunting task," said Bob Shennan.

"But I'm 100% certain that Chris will prove himself a worth successor to Terry's legacy."

Tim Davie, meanwhile, said Evans had "a huge personality" and that his new show would "open a new chapter in the life of the network."

Simon Mayo is expected to take over from Evans as Radio 2's drivetime show host.

The 50-year-old currently hosts an afternoon shown on the BBC's Five Live.

Football is without question the world’s most popular sport. In many countries it is not just a sporting event but a way of life. This is especially true in England.

Growing up as a child in England football would be part and parcel of every teenage boy’s life. Before, during and after school your coats would be down on the ground marking the goalposts and then my friends and I would begin a good old ‘kickabout’. It would not matter what the weather was we would play in rain, sun, wind, sleet or snow. Football was our life.

During those wild teenage games the girls in my school would often want to kick the ball but were always afraid to join in as it was a “Boys game”. Fast forward two decades and not much has really changed. The women’s game is now a lot more professional than it has been yet this is still blighted by the rather male dominated sports coverage in our media.

Yesterday the vastly improved English men’s team beat rivals Croatia 2-1 in a friendly. The game was shown live on Sky Sports and as usual my local pub was packed, tattooed skinheads in England shirts looking like an army or Orcs from Mordor cheering on the national team. Following the game there were highlights on BBC and ITV and this morning the game had six pages dedicated to it in my newspaper. This was just a friendly.

During the last major football competition, Euro 2008, England did not qualify. Yet still the pubs were full for each game, The Orcs, would adopt a team and cheer them on until they got knocked out. England have to look back to 2006 when the country came to a standstill for two weeks in the Summer watching England eventually lose to Portugal in the Quarter finals. Yet again another major sense of under achievement.

This afternoon in Finland the England woman’s football team face The Netherlands in the Euro 2009 semi finals. Just one game away from reaching a major final, something the male team has not achieved since 1966. I’ve been following women’s football since the days of the legendary Mia Haim back in the mid 90’s. The skill and depth of the football has increased dramatically and I would go as far as saying that some of the women could survive in the male game, easily.

Yet why do our media tend to ignore this fantastic achievement? If it were the male team the pubs would be full, most of the country would be off tomorrow with a hangover but instead the game is put on a lesser of the cable channels to make way for a rather meaningless game of one day cricket between England and Australia (I think we have had enough cricket over the summer!).

When I asked The Orcs if they were going to watch the game they grunted in unison “Why would we”. I don’t blame them I blame the media. When a meaningless friendly has six pages of my paper devoted to it yet an achievement by the female team that the male team has not achieved since 1996 only raises one small paragraph then something is vastly wrong.

So come on everyone in England, cheer on the girls this afternoon. Football may really just be coming home

A symphony of days gone by, play a tune amongst the trees

Abandoned playground of my fellow kin, nature forced down to its knees

Pleading to be spared from the executioners saw

A once peaceful and safe haven, just in the way once more

The eyes that once offered its protection

Have been blinded by its plight

The embers of the forest fire, extinguished in the night

But every fallen oak tree plant an eternal seed

Roots so indescribable, natures greatest deed

Man is afraid of the unknown from the dawn of time

The forest is not our enemy; it's never been a crime

This concrete driven obsession suffocates our very lung

Understand our hidden mystery; we breathe life into the young

Do not be scared of its darkest shadow, it's just paradise at night

The howling of the wolves, and the eagles taking flight

Green Man still protects us, with all the strength left within

Let the war on nature end, let a new dawn begin

Embrace the forest of yesteryear; let it become a land once more

No longer shall we fear its strength, the purest of the pure

In life we are guaranteed one thing and that is we are, at some stage, going to part from someone. This parting of ways could be through death, end of a relationship, separation, or just simply losing contact. No matter what the cause there is always a plethora of emotions that we will go through following.  Hatred, rage, anger, guilt, sadness, happiness and regret are just some that we will feel. The emotions may last a while, they may last forever but as we get older we learn to let go.

Today has been a strange day. It has been one of those days where I have jut ignored the circus of life that surrounds me and have been thinking about the past, of the people that are no longer in my life for some meaning.

Sometimes these people pop into my head for a purpose or a reason, it could be jogged by a memory of something or recollection. Throughout the day I have thought of these people and relived the good times as well as the bad and the emerging pattern was that most of them I held some kind of hatred towards, mainly in the way that they left my life. It seemed tainted with a sudden departure following a rather bad time, a period of happiness followed by a sudden impact of pain.

This pain was not something that I had created but it just happened. Yet to them, wherever they are, the pain is probably just an insignificant memory, yet to me it became something like an addictive volcano, the more I thought about it the stronger and more powerful it became. Do I dwell on the past too much? Yes quite possibly.

Today as I ignored the people around me I made a list of the five that were on my mind the most, the five people that I once had in my life either in love or friendship and the reasons that they were no longer with me. I wrote the reasons why this friendship or relationship ended and rewound myself in time like an old video cassette.

My evaluation at the end of this was that indeed I had made things worse through thinking and contemplating about these events too much. Time may have healed the wounds for them, yet for I my wounds were still being licked the acidic tongue that I sometimes possess. So I have exorcised these demons this afternoon. One by one they had become a distant memory. Whatever was said, whatever was done forgiveness is there.

If we do not learn to let go in life then how can we move on? How can we build the trust that we once had yet seem to have let go. Many people often say to me “Look after number one”. If we only do that then how can we look out for others? The memories that I have of these friendships are part of me as my soul is, without those memories I would not be the person that I am today.

None of us are experts in life, we will always continue to make mistakes yet the sign of age and wisdom is the fact that we can accept that we were wrong and we can accept that life continues. That surely is the most important lesson to learn.

A baby’s born, a mother bleeds

New life begins, the infant feeds

Eternal love is born this day

Only to grow, to fade away

The years pass, the mother sighs

A teenage boy, no longer cries

Stripped of emotion by those they trust

Gangland warfare turns their blood to rust

No more tears, no more sorrow

Live for today and not tomorrow

Not a care for others lives

Worship guns, die by knives

Mindless violence, driven by greed

Wings pinned down, cannot be freed

Corrupted angels, commit the mortal sin

Streets have no winners, let the game begin

There are no rules, live by the gun

What happened to the child? And to the fun?

The mother weeps, the vultures feed

Her baby boy, begins to bleed

A senseless death, immortal pain

Upon the streets, another slain

So politicians hear our plead

No longer can we watch our children bleed

Take this pain and end our sorrow

We strive towards a new tomorrow

I see that the football game between Millwall and West Ham was marred by violence last night. Around 100 fans were the subject of two pitch invasions and battles with stewards and Police.

English football has a stained history of football violence, especially during the 70’s and 80’s but in reality the level of violence has dropped dramatically in the last decade. England’s hopes of hosting the 2018 World Cup would have been dealt a serious blow after last night’s events.

I have been to games where violence has flared. Football is often the most important factor of people’s lives. It gives people a sense of belonging, like a safe tribal rivalry but often it can escalate into mindless violence.

For those children who witnessed the mindless thugery last night I saw to you don’t let it put you off going to a game. For those mindless adults who acted like thugs CCTV will catch you.

When they are caught they should not be put in prison or fined. Hit them where it hurts the hardest ban them from every ground in the UK. A thug without football is like a car thief with no wheels.

The British Government are planning to “ban” file sharers from using the internet.

The amendment to the Digital Britain report would see regulator Ofcom given greater powers to tackle pirates.  The technical measures are likely to include suspending the net accounts of "hardcore copyright pirates". It is believed that Business Secretary Lord Mandelson has intervened personally to beef up the policy.

Stephen Timms, minister for Digital Britain, explained the change of heart.

"We've been listening carefully to responses to the consultation this far, and it's become clear there are widespread concerns that the plans as they stand could delay action, impacting unfairly upon rights holders," he said.

It proposes that internet service providers (ISPs) are obliged to take action against repeat infringers and suggests that the cost of tracking down persistent pirates be shared 50:50 between ISPs and rights holders.

SPs have repeatedly argued that it is not their job to police the web. The Internet Service Providers' Association (ISPA) said it was "disappointed by the proposal to force ISPs to suspend users' accounts".

Let’s remember file-sharing is not illegal. It only becomes illegal when users are sharing content, such as music, that is protected by copyrights. As I have pointed out before in the past 95% of file downloads in 2008 were illegal. Research carried out in 16 countries by the recording industry body found that over 40bn files were illegally shared in 2008.

So is this rather insane Government of ours going to ban the majority of the population from using the internet? With more and more musicians supporting file sharing and sites like The Pirate Bay becoming more and more popular. Cannot the government just accept that they are out of touch?

Today saw the hottest day in London, a record 31 degrees. The hottest day so far this year! Whatever...

In the UK with our continual abnormal seasons this year has been something of a refreshing and constant regular year of normality so far. The winter of early 2009 gave us the heaviest snowfall in 20 years, the spring was warm, wet and bright and the summer thus far has been warm yet also wet. Something of what we have come to expect in this day and age.

My concern and argument is that u UK people place far too much emphasis on the summer. You cannot blame us, the past few years have just been a continual season of grey, damp and rain. The Early warning that we were in for a "BBQ summer" made us all excited. It is like we suddenly all become these sun worshipping robots, we make the summer the most important time of the year. I was a victim of purchasing a new summer wardrobe/closet. But I played it sensible, three pairs of shorts, six nice designer short sleeved shirts, some nice funky t-shirts, some flip flops (thongs for you Aussies), two pairs of white trainers and dare I say a pink shirt!

I never wore any of them.

Maybe that is my habit of wearing the same few thing each year, perhaps it is that these clothes become buried in my ever existing blocking of Narnia (my closet), maybe it's just because we just hope too much. They say that today was the last warm day of summer and that from here it's downhill all the way.

THE CLOCKS GO BACK IN LATE OCTOBER!!

Cannot we at least save what is left of summer. I see all these women each day that have been on diets, spent fortunes on designer clothes, guys who have been in the gym and in the tanning salon, all for what? To share it to those on a sweaty train from Oxford to Waterloo?

Waste of time if you ask me.

But we never learn do we? We make the same mistake year after year, it is the Sun's fault. No not the paper, the big bright sphere that we orbit. It pokes its face out like a mischievous child, saying "Here I am look how wonderful I be!", but unlike a scampy youth this thing holds us, it knows we worship it, it guides our days and guides our lives.

If we are to worhsip this hot ball of gas. Can't you at least come out more often?!

I overheard a rather interesting debate in a bar last night. Two guys were talking about this years Fantasy Football and who they were including in their team.

One of them said “Well at least that homo(sexual) Ronaldo has fucked off to Real Madrid”. That very statement got me thinking.

In acting homosexuality is accepted. Even in music many homosexual singers have a vast following and loyal fan base. Over the past few years members of former Boy Bands, idolised by millions of girl’s world wide, have said they were homosexual. N-SYNC, Blue, Westlife, Boyzone, to name a few. Yet there are very few male sports stars who will admit to being gay.

Why?

I cannot see the harm in any sports star being homosexual. Just like the singers they have fans, but is it because sports is perceived as a masculine activity? Gladiators in combat, man against man to prove who the best is in a particular event. Pure bollocks if you ask me.

But there is a downside

If any gay footballers have considered going public in the past 13 years, they need look no further for discouragement than the traumatic tale of Fashanu, the first million-pound black footballer, the first and only professional footballer to come out. Fashanu sold his story to the News of the World in 1990 (making a claim, later retracted, that he had slept with MPs), but the reasons are unlikely to have been entirely financial. He may have feared being outed, and chose a more dignified option. Or there may even have been a touch of nobility about it. 'Many people thought I just did it for the money,' he wrote in the mid-Nineties. 'I suppose they have never stopped to consider that my world is based around Sun and Daily Star readers... I genuinely thought that if I came out in the worst newspapers and remained strong and positive about being gay, there would be nothing more that they could say. Of course, I was wrong and lost three years of my career.'

His 'lost three years' are not immediately attributable to homophobia; certainly he was riled by fans and some footballers, but he also suffered recurrent knee problems and a loss of form. He never fulfilled the early promise shown at Norwich (where he is remembered for volleying the Match of the Day Goal of the Season in 1980 against Liverpool) and at Nottingham Forest, where Brian Clough dealt with the early rumours of his homosexuality by banning him from training and calling him a poof whenever the opportunity presented. In a 15-year career, Fashanu played for 11 clubs in England and Scotland before taking up a coaching job in Maryland. He fled the United States in 1998 after a 17-year-old accused him of a drunken sexual assault, and he hanged himself not long afterwards in a London lock-up. This is a unique case, and not a cautionary tale in any conventional sense. And it leaves a couple of questions unanswered: would Fashanu have done better to hide his sexuality until his career was over, or would he have had a better career had he been out from the start?

One in 10 people are said to be gay, which means there are hundreds of gay professional sportsmen and women, including roughly one member of every football team. So why have so few gone public about their sexuality?

David Beckham is a gay icon across the globe, and whilst clearly, heterosexual it shows that any homosexual footballer would be welcome by fans. Of course, like racism, you will have the idiotic minority who will yell abuse each day, but I am sure this is something that they have not heard before.

Footballers are style icons, spend thousands on designer clothes, and look far more camp than a shaven headed tattoo fan. So maybe that is the reason, is it purely down to style and attitude? Would the England fans think anything less of a captain that bled for the team, defended and ran his heart out if her were homosexual rather than heterosexual? It baffles me.

If the statistic that one in ten people are either lesbian or homosexual than that equals a LOT of professional sportsmen and sportswomen around the world. Yet they will have to “come out” of two closets, one personal and one public. It is that public closet that seems to have many padlocks and chains around it, chains that seem to be impossible to break.

Sport is the last domain where homosexuality is not accepted. I hope this will change.