When I was very young my family lived in on a council estate in South Yorkshire. My father worked in a factory and had done since he left school, mum never worked, they had married straight from school and she had fallen into the role of home maker. My older brother came along after a couple of years then me.
- Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
The Owl of St BarnabasRunner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
We lived in the city when I was a child in the 1980s. It was and old industrial city that hadn’t changed much since the 1800s. There were new buildings here and there but that was in the centre, where I grew up much of the old mills and warehouses still stood alongside the old tenement buildings. We lived in one of them. It had been converted in the 1950s but it still looked tired. My parents had done a great job making it homely but to a young boy it’s lack of outdoor space was always a problem. There was no green space around us for me to play in and though on Sundays, when they were both off work, my parents would try their best to find me somewhere to play it was short lived. During the week there was nothing for me, especially during the school holidays. As I got older I began to wander and soon I found the only grass anywhere near me. The churchyard of St Barnabas’ became my quiet place, my countryside.
When I was a child my father took a new position in his firm. It was a promotion of sorts and brought him more money but the consequences were that my younger brother and I were moved hundreds of miles north of where we had both been born, where all our friends were, where everything we knew was. I think it was a little harder for me, I was eight, David, my younger brother was only 5 and had been in school for a lot less time than I had. I’d got my friendship groups and in the blink of an eye it was gone.
Foot Hammock Anyone?
One of the things about not getting diagnosed till you’re an adult and then subsequently ignoring your diagnosis is that you compound your terrible ADHD habits and assume that everyone is just like you. The truth is that they aren’t. The stuff you’re doing isn’t what the person next to you is doing, well it might be but for the sake of this let’s say it isn’t.
ADHD, Anxiety and the glass bowl.
It seems that the challenges of being an adult with ADHD is often overlooked. The majority of us have lived with it so long we have subconsciously developed strategies that mean we don’t regularly consider them as challenging. In fact we tend to utterly ignore them which on a day to day basis is unimportant, however being more aware of just how your ADHD brain has adapted to keep you functioning is crucial in keeping you happy and healthy.
To preface this story I feel it is very important to tell you a little of my own background. While I am somewhat incidental in the events, why I am now writing about them is significant if only to demonstrate that I have nothing to gain from having imagined it all.
The Vicar of St Eigron’s
I write this as a testament to the events I was party to. I do not ask the reader to believe what I write, if I am quite frank I just don’t care if you do. I’ve lived a good and very ordinary life, I’ve taught in the same school for a decade now, I served as a governor last year and am due to get married in the summer. Everything I do is as conventional as you could hope to expect but the last few weeks have proved somewhat different. I can’t imagine going back to how I was is at all possible but hopefully by writing this down I will somehow begin the process.
In search of ‘The Ticky’.
As a freelance features writer I’m always looking for great and original stories I can get my teeth into and during a recent trip I had made to the Scottish Borders in pursuit of a story about Gamekeepers in modern Britain. It was an interesting article in the end but very niche and while it sold I knew as I researched it that I needed something different to follow up with and to that end I was very receptive to anything new or intriguing. Perhaps too much so but what I found in a tiny little country pub sent me down some spectacular rabbit holes and finding the most disturbing story I have ever come across.
The Legend of Old Chokey
Despite it being the middle of summer the weather had decided to rise to the occasion and provide a grey, miserable and misty day for the funeral. Harry hadn’t spent much time in his home town in the past decade and the monotony of the surroundings today matched his embedded memory of the place. He was now sat in the silent living room of his childhood home with two of those he had left behind. Opposite him was his father Ed, the past few days had aged the already old man even more and his ancient black suit did little to help make him look any less old. Next to him was his older brother, 15 years his senior he too was looking far older than he had when they saw each other during their last fleeting Christmas visit. Harry struggled to keep his eyes off his father who despite his stoic expression looked like a dam at breaking point.
The 12 Gifts of Christmas
Edward had never really cared for Christmas. His childhood hadn’t been one filled with joyous family gatherings and an overflowing cup of cheer and love. He endured rather than loved the festive period. That was until he happened upon a small cafe on an unimportant Wednesday at the start of a wet and cold December. It was here, in that cafe, that day that he first saw Elizabeth. It was at that moment he knew that he had to do everything he could to make her his. He turned up every day and over his coffee watched her work diligently serving and smiling. Between each new customer she hummed Christmas songs with such a sweet tone that his heart soared with each note. Her fair skin made her look like a Christmas Angel and the man for whom Christmas meant nothing fell in love with it and her.