Typing With A Tit On My Elbow.

Yes, I know, why am I still not posting?  Consider this some sort of post.  The problem is that it's extremely difficult typing as my bursitis in the elbow aka "tennis elbow", has worsened.  Typing while having a jiggling lump is not easy.  I'm now empathising with Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar, who has told me, on a number of occasions, that typing for her is like a human trying to type with mittens on.

I've now been on the anti-inflammatory drugs for two weeks.  While taking the drugs, I was told not to take anything for the flu I managed to get during my trip to British Columbia.  This compounded the situation.

Yesterday, I went to my health centre to get a flu jab.  The flu clinic was a walk-in without needing an appointment.  I had a crafty plan in regards to getting a flu jab.  In other words, how to have an appointment with a doctor without actually having an appointment. When the doctor called me in, I told her that I wasn't sure if I could have the flu shot because it might clash with the medicine I was taking for the elbow situation.  She looked at my elbow and proceeded to go get the doctor who'd seen me in the first place. The two doctors stared at my great lump, as in the lump on my right elbow.  They agreed that I needed to go to hospital.  I now wait for my appointment to come through the mail.

Like I stated to the doctors, I really didn't want to go to accident and emergency, wait several hours as a bunch of rowdy drunks proceeded to puke all over me.

Oh, I never got the flu shot because I was informed that as well as the clash of medication, the fact I'd just had the flu meant I couldn't get a flu jab.

That's about all I can type.  This is most frustrating.  I hope to be sort of blogging within the next month.  Apologies for not interacting with you.  I know you'll understand.  Once again, I shall be leaving the comments switched off because responding to comments whilst trying to keep a flopping blob off my keyboard is not my idea of fun.

I'll slap up a couple of photos from the second day of my trip to British Columbia.

This is the view from the top of the hill in White Rock, British Columbia.  My mother and my stepdad live about a ten minute walk from this location.

Here's another view from a different street.  If you go down to the beach, way off in the distance, you can see the Peach Arch, which is located at the border crossing just before you go into Blaine, Washington.

Taking photos often turns into some weird adventure for me.  While attempting to take the above photos, some old dude was following me around.  He gave me strange looks.  Just about normal for me.

Remembering A Journey Down The West Coast.

As I continue to regain and reinforce my positive focus, I thought you might like to read one of my very early posts.  This post from November 24, 2007, brings back some profound inspiration.  Makes me understand, no matter what barriers come my way, I can climb over them and realise how much I have to be grateful for.

                                              From Lions Gate To Golden Gate

The year was 1972, two weeks before Christmas. This would be my second trip to California in the space of six months. I just knew this would be another great adventure in my life.

In the early summer of '72 I had travelled from Vancouver to San Francisco on a Greyhound bus. Upon my arrival in that great northern California city, this wide-eyed eighteen year old prepared himself for a wonderful, multi-cultural experience. Here I was, in San Francisco! Wow!  It looked just like it did on television. Cable cars, Fisherman's Wharf, the winding roads, the very steep hills, and of course, Alcatraz.

I spent a few days in that great city, absorbing all the sights and sounds of the bustling community. Being of an exploring nature, I found myself back at the Greyhound bus depot. I purchased a ticket for Lake Tahoe, which is located on the California, Nevada border. It was there that I met a a very friendly California family. We got along so well, that I arranged to stay with them for Christmas. They lived in a small town near San Francisco named San Pablo. Ah yes, it would be Christmas in California. This brings me neatly back around to my opening paragraph.

So now it is nearly Christmas in the year 1972. My long journey south from Vancouver to San Francisco, a distance close to a thousand miles, was going to be an even greater adventure than my first trip. For this time, an even wider-eyed nineteen year old was going to drive there in his first car. Yes indeed, I headed off down Interstate 5 in my '64 Plymouth Valiant. Fingers crossed, my pride and joy would get me there safely. 

Well, somehow, I did make it. Driving through some of America's great towns and cities. I travelled through Seattle, home of Bill Gates, home of Boeing, home of Jimi Hendrix, home of that legendary band "Nirvana". I moved on through the beautiful city of Portland Oregon. Soon I would be in California. Soon I would see my friends in San Pablo.

Over the next two weeks, I would have some of the most memorable experiences of my life. It was an action-packed time. I social-networked with loads of people. I had a fantastic time, heck I even went snow-skiing for the first time ever. Skiing was a rather strange concept. I mean it was like suddenly strapping on a pair of size 107 shoes on your feet. It took some getting use to. I recall being covered in snow, lying on the ground and staring up at the sky. I look back on that very special, very different Christmas with warm, fond memories. Yet one memory of that California Christmas has left me with a profound sense of caring for those not as fortunate as myself.

On Christmas Day, that wonderful family that I was staying with had a Christmas tradition that I will never forget. That morning we drove off to the grandmother's house. She lived in a city named Oakland, which is located across the bay from San Francisco. Her home was in an Oakland ghetto.

Yet despite my anxious perceptions of a ghetto and the stigma attached to such places, all I felt was warmth and kindness. This was a proud lady, living in a place she chose to stay in. This was a lady, whose fair skin was part of the minority in the neighbourhood. Somehow, it didn't matter. 

I was introduced to her friends and neighbours. They were part of a community that knew all too well what being underprivileged meant. The adversity that they endured seemed to unite these folks in making their lives that little bit better. Seldom have I experienced such community spirit. I left that ghetto in Oakland, with inspired perceptions. Despite the trouble and strife that was so much a part of their world, they never gave up on being positive towards each other. That day, that special Christmas Day, I was honoured to be among such caring, genuine people.

So from the Lions Gate Bridge, in that great Canadian city of Vancouver, to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, I had travelled down the west coast of North America. Somehow, despite the frantic driving methods of the Californians, my 1964 Plymouth Valiant survived. As I reached the Canadian border and went through Customs, I knew my journey was almost over. It turned out to be a journey of self-discovery.  I have been truly blessed with some powerful memories.  What a positive focus.

Down A Very Steep Hill.

Down a very steep hill, about a thirty minute walk from my mum and step-dad's home, is the shoreline of a town named White Rock, British Columbia.  If you've ever been to White Rock, you will know what I mean about that very steep hill.

When I got to to the bottom of that very steep hill, before me was the twilight vision of White Rock pier.

I strolled along the pier and looked at the twinkling lights along the White Rock shoreline.

Here is a view from the end of the pier.  I stood there and thought about the deeply profound and inspirational moments of my trip back home to Canada.

Back to the beginning point of the pier and night had immersed the White Rock sky.  I turned around and realised that now I would have to go back up that very steep hill.

Back to the house and one last sleep.  I looked out my bedroom window and knew that soon, very soon, I would be back in England.  Back to my other life, my other world, a different reality.  

Thank you Hope, thank you Vancouver, thank you White Rock, thank you Canada.  Thank you to my friends and family for making this the most poignant and profound experience of my life.  

I dedicate this posting to my friend and a man I call my brother.   Wayne, the shackles have been broken and you are free to fly.....

Five Hours In Vancouver.

In Vancouver, the old blends with the new.  In the above photo, the old high-rise is named, 'The Marine Building' and is symbolic of the prevalent type of architecture of the 1930's.  The building, as a matter of interest, was featured in the film, 'Timecop', starring Jean-Claude Van Damme.

You may have seen Vancouver in many a film or television show disguised as Seattle, or San Francisco, or Los Angeles, or New York, or even Washington, D.C.   I can be sitting here watching my television and a movie comes on, that to me, is obviously Vancouver.   'Hey!', I think, 'I recognise that tree!'

Out of thirty five days in British Columbia, I only spent five hours in Vancouver.  I recall getting off the light rapid transit system to meet up for lunch with my brother.  I looked all around and was completely lost.  I did not recognise anything.  Vancouver was a city I lived in for twenty five years and here I was, lost and bewildered.  The changes in the city have been nothing short of incredible over the last few years.  

And so, with so little time, I boarded the 'SeaBus' to go over to the city of North Vancouver to get a better view of the Vancouver skyline. 

In the above photo, directly in the centre front, is 'Canada Place', complete with the 'sails' on the roof.  Canada Place is one of the remaining landmarks from the world's fair in Vancouver named, 'Expo 86'.  Canada Place has been compared to the Sydney Opera House.  The building off to the left that looks like an alien space craft has landed on it, is named, 'Harbour Centre'.  You might just notice it the next time you watch a movie or television show that is supposed to be located in an American city.

Here is a SeaBus heading over the Burrard Inlet to North Vancouver.

The Vancouver skyline as observed from Lonsdale Quay in North Vancouver.  If you click on this, or any photo, you can see much more detail.  

The Vancouver skyline in the background of a North Vancouver harbour.  

I shall now leave you with a few photos of  Vancouver.

And for five hours out of thirty five days, I spent a few fleeting moments to reflect and reminisce on the Vancouver of now and the Vancouver I once knew.  Yes, a lot has changed in this beautiful city, the 'Evergreen Playground', also known as, 'Hollywood North'.  It is a city that has been brought to worldwide attention for all the right reasons, Expo 86 and the Winter Olympics.  It is a city that has been brought to worldwide attention for all the wrong reasons, the taser shooting of a man by the RCMP at Vancouver airport, which sadly led to him dying and the riots after the Stanley Cup finals.  

Vancouver, a city of great diversity, will always have a special place in my heart.  Until next time, Vancouver. It's see you later,eh......

Customs To Customs.

I knew it was time for me leave.  Walking by my son's bedroom door, I gently whispered, 'goodbye' to him and to Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet star.  It was with a sense of anxiety, mixed with excitement, that this reluctant recluse headed out his front door.  Time, once again, to challenge my uncomfortable comfort zone.  And thus, off I went on Saturday morning, May 7th, to travel to Manchester airport, destination, Vancouver, Canada.
I stood there at the check-in counter, waiting patiently for my turn.  Whilst waiting in the line, I was approached by an official representative of the airline.  "Are you travelling alone, sir?", the lady inquired.  To which I replied, "Yes I am.  Why, is it that obvious?  Do you feel sorry for me?"  The lady smiled and stated, "Sir, we are offering you 400 Canadian dollars to take a different flight."  'Hmmmm', I thought to myself.  'Does this mean that the other passengers have got up a collection to keep me off the plane?  Do I look like some kind of deviant undesirable?'  Well, it turned out that someone was wanting to travel with the rest of their family and didn't have a seat on my flight.  The offer was for me to take the money, take a flight with a stopover in Calgary and arrive in Vancouver 2 and 1/2 hours later than I would have.  If it wasn't for the fact that I was being met at Vancouver airport at an anticipated time, it would have been very tempting.  I've no idea if anyone took up that offer.
Finally, our plane took off, and 9 and 1/2 hours later, we arrived in Vancouver, 1 and 1/2 hours after we left.  Yes, that does sound confusing.  Upon arrival in Vancouver, we endured the long wait to get to the customs officer.  If you are not familiar with the wait to get to the customs officer at Vancouver airport, it makes for an overwhelming visual.  In front of you is a vast sea of humanity that follows guide ropes that snakes back and forth, back and forth.  After about 30 minutes, these two ladies from Manchester, complained to me about how long it was taking.  I said, "Ladies, look on the bright side.  This is indeed a long wait, but you have gained 8 hours."  They laughed and then asked me how long it took the ferry to get to 'Victoria' Island.  I corrected them and told them they meant Vancouver Island, which has the capital city of British Columbia, named 'Victoria', located on it.
After 40 minutes, it was finally my turn to talk to the customs officer dude.  "I see you are going to be here for 35 days, sir.  What is the purpose of your visit?"  I responded, "Well, I'm here to visit friends, family and hopefully watch the Vancouver Canucks make a bit of history."  He smiled and we talked hockey.  "You better get going sir, the game starts in less than an hour."  Only in Canada, eh.  Only in Canada.
So, I grabbed my luggage, got greeted by my mum and step-dad and headed back to their home.  Had a quick chat and then proceeded to sit in front of their television to watch the game.  Priorities, eh.  Only in Canada, eh.  Only in Canada.
I spent five days with my family in the seaside town of White Rock.   Even did something that is a bit of a Canadian tradition.  Yep, my brother took me for a coffee at Tim Hortons.
And now I'm typing to you from the town of Hope, British Columbia.  A small town about 100 miles east of Vancouver, that is surrounded by majestic mountains.  A town I wrote about in my second ever blog.  A town of great significance in my life and if you would like to read that posting, you will understand what I mean.  Tribes and Tributes.  You might be familiar with this town.  For this was the town used in 'Rambo First Blood'.  So far, nobody has mistaken me for Rambo.
I'm living in Hope.  Staying with two remarkable people who live in hope for a better future.  Their story, their inspiration, their continued belief in positivity, in the face of adversity, leaves me with no doubt that this holiday is going to be a deeply profound and powerful time for all concerned.  Upon my return to England, I shall do a detailed posting about this experience that I know will touch your heart.
In conclusion, I apologise that I've not been as interactive with you as I normally try to be.  This reluctant recluse got away from his computer and truly challenged his fears, his apprehension, his 'inner critic'.  I went out my front door, embraced humanity and had this sense of elation, a, 'what the hell I can do this', feeling.  That, my friend, is a result.

Seventeen Days In Vancouver.

For seventeen days I was back in my other home.  Through the magic of television and the internet; I was transported back to the land of 'glowing hearts'; I was back in Canada, back in Vancouver.  A land of such diversity, a land of many creeds and cultures.  The land of those proud and noble people; the First Nations tribes.

I saw the venues for the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics and the memories of youthful days, came flooding back.  'Hey', I thought, 'they're figure skating at the Pacific Coliseum.'  I recalled the ice hockey games and rock concerts I attended there.  'Wow! the opening and closing ceremonies are at B.C. Place Stadium.'  I remembered being there to see the first ever event.  Vancouver Whitecaps played before an enthusiastic crowd and Peter Beardsley scored the winning goal against the Seattle Sounders.  Yes, through the screen in my home in England, I saw the sights.  Heck, I recognise that tree.

For seventeen days I was back in Vancouver.  My 'body clock' went back eight time zones.  All through the night; I lived and breathed the wonders that were happening in my other home.  I thought of my friends, my family and the special memories I hold so dearly in my heart.  Even so far away; I sensed the great joy and pride that embraced all those I know and love.

 
The games started with such sadness.  A young man lost his life pursuing his Olympic dream.  Our thoughts are with Nodar Kumaritashvili and the people of Georgia.

I watched the Canada versus U.S.A. ice hockey, gold medal game.  I screamed with hysterical delight when Sidney Crosby scored the winning goal for Canada in 'sudden death' overtime.  My English neighbours must have wondered what was wrong with me.  I have some explaining to do eh?

And so, the Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver had drawn to a spectacular and thought provoking conclusion.  The family of humanity had gathered in the true spirit of the Olympic ideal.  Canada, a nation of glowing hearts.  Canada, you have shown the world a wonderful celebration of humanity at its finest.  The Olympic flame is now extinguished, but the afterglow of hope for Canada and for our world, burns bright.

A Tale Of Tess.

You hear remarkable tales about the bravery, the sheer determination of our pets, indeed, what I prefer to call, family members.  This is one such tale.  A tale of Tess.

It was the summer of 1986.   The World's Fair, Expo '86, was in full swing in downtown Vancouver.  Every night brought a spectacular fireworks display.  A visual and audio delight, for most.   From our apartment window, my wife and I could see the distant flashes and glows of the pyrotechnics extravaganza.

One night, we decided that it would be fun to witness the fireworks display from the very heart of all the activity.  So off we went in the car, along with Tess, our faithful, loving dog.  Block after city block, we travelled.  Busy roads, plenty of traffic, but we knew how to get to our final destination of False Creek. We both knew our way around Vancouver very well.
  

Upon our arrival, we proceeded to find a good vantage point to enjoy the evening of fireworks. All was well for the first few minutes.  We marvelled at the sights and sounds.  Then came a very loud boom and flash.  Tess panicked and wriggled her way out of her collar.  We stood there stunned as Tess fled in terror.  Now all we had was her lead still attached to her collar.

We called her name, "Tess! Tess!", all to no avail.  With our voices drowned out by the boom of the fireworks, a sense of hysteria, a real concern for her welfare, began to sink into our thinking process.    What are we going to do?  For ages we searched.  Then the awful reality hit us hard, we must go home, without our beloved dog.

The next day we went back to False Creek and put up several posters with a description of Tess and a contact number.  A few days later, we received a call from a lady who said that a dog fitting the description in the poster, had slept overnight on her porch with her cat.  However, the next morning, the dog had left.  Well, this was a glimmer of hope.  Maybe it was Tess.  Maybe she was alive.

As best one could, we went about our daily business.  Day upon day passed, a day became a week, a week became two, thoughts of Tess became more of a fleeting, yet no less painful thought.  I was about to go to work on the nightshift, only enough time to have a pork chop, before heading out the door.  'Scratch, scratch, thump'.  "What was that?"  We both said in unison.  The sound seemed to be coming from the door.  I rushed over, opened the door and Tess collapsed in the hallway.

Before us lay a terribly thin, bedraggled dog.  Barely able to walk, she limped into the living room.  The extremes of emotion experienced at the moment were so profound.  Joy, elation, admiration, love for a dog that had touched us in more ways than we could have ever imagined.   With tears streaming down my face, I hugged Tess and gave her my pork chop.

Block after city block, she must have wandered, dazed, hungry, scared, confused.  Yet with sheer determination and that uncanny sense that animals possess, she found her way home.  I look back on that very special night and it inspires me.   For if I can show half of the resilience that Tess displayed, I know that I can be a better human.
  

Then came the day when we had to make one of the hardest decisons of our lives.  We were moving to England and that meant the dreaded quaratine for dogs.  Tess would have to stay in a kennel for six months to be observed for any potential rabies.  We worried, that if we did this, what sort of a dog would she be after the six months.   Reluctantly, sadly, painfully we gave up Tess to a wonderful couple who we knew would provide her with much love.  That was late September 1987, and to this very day, I recall how heartbreaking it was when we drove away from her new home.   Her new life was beginning, our new life was beginning.

Whilst writing this blog, I've had to stop several times.  The tears have been welling up, for as I write this, I experience all those emotions  that happened so many years ago.   As I write this, I have been thinking about this final paragraph and how I would phrase it.  Last year I was in Vancouver and found out what became of Tess.  That couple loved and adored her, that I was assured.  One day Tess got out of their garden.  Poor Tess was run over, her life, a life that brought so much pleasure to others, was ended by an oncoming train.  I was devastated for all concerned.  Upon hearing the news, I visualised Tess in my mind.  I thought of a family member whose love was unconditional and never passed judgement.  A tale of Tess, never forgotten, always loved.

Maple Syrup On My Oatcakes?

Oh Canada, land of moose and maple syrup. Home of the grizzly bear, the ocean playground of the mighty orca, and ofcourse, a natural habitat of the beaver. I shall now conveniently end this paragraph, avoiding the temptation of an innuendo.

For three weeks I lived in my other world. Vancouver is not the city I remember from when I lived there. It is now a sprawling, cosmopolitan, hectic city. The rapidly changing skyline, which has dramatically altered since my last visit in 2005, is nothing short of unbelievable. With the upcoming 2010 winter olympics, the construction business is booming. The face of Vancouver is changing beyond recognition. The remaining buildings from my childhood, that stood so tall and proud, are now dwarfed by the massive towers that overshadow them. This might be interpreted as progress, I'm not so sure.

Immersed in the buzz of the hectic life of Vancouver, I realised I needed to focus away from my own anxiety and take time to appreciate the simple yet beautiful pleasures Vancouver has to offer. It was late spring and the cherry blossoms were in their full glory. Tree lined avenues proudly displaying glorious pink blossoms. Pink blossoms that gently cascaded onto the ground. Vancouver was covered by a carpet of what could be described as 'pink snow'. What an awesome sight and welcome relief from my own bizarre form of panic. Amazing how concentrating on the beauty of the blossoms helped me in my own quest for a moment of inner peace.

I fondly recall the times I shared with friends and family. I drew great inspiration from my friends. The determined resilience of Heather and Wayne in such challenging circumstances was a provocative reminder that I too had the inner strength to continue to challenge my own negative speculation. For the wisdom and the kindness they displayed to me has renewed my own determination to attempt to be a positive influence to others. My trip to Canada was a powerful experience.
There were some amusing and some surreal situations. Watching the Champions League Final, live at 11:30 in the morning at my good friend Leon's house, seemed most surreal. It just didn't seem right to be watching football at that time. Being a Chelsea fan, the outcome was very frustrating, but somehow didn't seem as bad as if I been watching it in England. Then there was the time at Heather and Wayne's. I decided to check out the television stations. All those channels and nothing worth watching. Then I found one channel that was super boring. For ages I stared at the screen thinking that this tedious channel looked vaguely familiar. Then I realised that it was not an actual channel. In fact, it was the picture from the camera that was set up in the entrance to the building they lived in. Doh! Ofcourse I also spent a considerable amount of time with my friends saying 'eh'. We all had a good laugh about the fact that Canadians say 'eh' quite a lot. So what eh?

Three remarkable weeks came to an end. It was time to go to Vancouver airport and take the 'big bird' back to Manchester. So all packed up, my Stepdad and my Mother took me from White Rock to the airport. I was quite concerned that my baggage allowance was over the acceptable weight. So knowing that my hand luggage was underweight I did a bit of juggling. I put a very large jar of peanut butter into hand luggage. So saying goodbye to family, I headed through Customs. Upon putting my hand luggage through the screening device, I knew there was a concern. "Sir, we have a problem with an object in your hand luggage." Said the Customs Officer. Upon opening my hand luggage he discovered the offending item. That friggin' peanut butter was a banned substance for carry-on luggage. So a rather embarrassed Customs Officer confiscated the dreaded peanut butter. Then he looked at my contac lens solution but decided that I could keep it. Gee thanks.

Safely through Customs, we finally boarded the plane and took off to Manchester. It was a very good flight back and I felt more relaxed. What was really cool was that on the monitor each passenger had was a channel that showed the view the pilot saw out of the cockpit and the view below the plane. I thought that was very exciting. Watching constant twilight through the cockpit window and the occasional glimpse of land below was most fascinating.

The hours past by, all nine of them. We had left Vancouver at 3:30 P.M. on Saturday, May 24th (Vancouver time), we arrived at 8:30 A.M. Sunday, May 25th (British Summer Time). Where the hell had the weekend gone? Safely through British Customs (minus the peanut butter), I met up with my good friend Philip, who transported me back to Leek. Time to return to my other world.

I got back to my house in Leek. For three weeks, my son Tristan, had been looking after the place. What would I be coming back to? Well there was no 'den of iniquity' (oh well..never mind). Actually, the house was very neat, but the garden..well that was something that needed some serious attention. So, despite being extremely jet-lagged, I found myself out in the garden, frantically trying to sort it out. I got great satisfaction in being out in my garden. Despite the 'jungle' before me, I knew that soon my 'oasis' would soon be back to its wonderful glory.

Going back inside my house, I realised that the grocery supply was low. So in a very surreal state of mind, I wandered down to Morrisons to get some supplies. Just a few hours back in England and I was off grocery shopping. Checking out the tomato sauce, I looked up and saw a familiar face. It was my former spouse. A lady I had not seen in months. A lady I had stopped talking to because of a situation regarding our son. Yet we both sensed something was different.

The conversation was most pleasant, bordering on amicable. She realised that I had just got back from Vancouver. She said lets just enjoy the rather surreal situation we are in. I thought that was a very nice thing to say. Then I thought: 'let's make this surreal situation even more surreal.' I showed her a picture on my camera phone. Whilst in Canada I had taken a photograph of our old house. This was the house where are dreams began and our dreams ended. This was a most poignant moment and I wonder if this was some kind of healing lesson for us both. She drove me back to my house, we laughed and the anger I had towards her melted away. A thought provoking start to my return to England.

So I had left Canada where I had gotten used to people saying: 'How's it goin' eh?' Now I was back in North Staffordshire, where people have been known to say: 'Are you alright duck?' (what a 'fowl' expression). For the first two years of living in North Staffordshire, I had a sore neck. 'Are you alright..duck!?' 'Duck'? To this day I'm on the lookout for low-flying objects.

Now back in England, I look forward to the future. Knowing that I have friends in both countries fills me with comfort. I have learnt much about myself over the last few weeks, perhaps it is okay to 'impose' myself on society. Being the 'hermit on holiday' was rather ironic. I hope that proving that I can challenge my anxiety, my social phobia, will be source of comfort to those of you who have similar concerns. Now then, being totally confused, I wonder if it is okay to put maple syrup on my oatcakes?

Destination Hope.

Greetings everyone. My dear friend Heather, someone who I had not seen in fifteen years, kindly allowed me to use the following e-mail as an introduction to this blog. I dedicate this blog to Heather and her strong, positive family.

"Hello My Dear!!
You have our permission to do all that you ask. Wayne’s accident happened on September 16th, 2oo6 approximately 3:30 in the afternoon. His prognosis at the beginning was quite good and the doctor told him to expect a 95% recovery. Due to the bungling of several so called professionals and the fact that he nearly died 4 times ( one time close enough to have the minister come to his bedside twice), his body had to try to heal itself from illness which took away from his recovery. His spinal cord injury although it was not severed was serious enough to cause what is called an incomplete quadriplegia which means that he has feeling some places and not others. His main injury seems to be due to swelling and the damage it can cause. Sort of like a brain injury being made worse due to not getting enough oxygen for a long time. We are very hopeful of a good recovery which means he will walk again but with assistance. At this point the worst damage has been to his sense of self. He no longer feels like a contributing member of society and is floundering to find an anchor. I try to help him but my words are a bit like not seeing the forest for the trees. I am too close. He actually came home to stay on January 25th, 2008. A very long time indeed and we are still adjusting to what is supposed to be life. We only now are really starting to enjoy some very sweet moments together. I can send some photos of before’s if you like. Stages from the beginning to now. He really has come a very long way and he ( very sweetly) attributes a great deal of that me) I thank God I have the positive attitude that I do, it really has got me through this. Anyway, I can send more info. Just ask away.
How are you now? I am so very proud of you Gary. Doing what you did with the issues you are trying to deal with was tantamount to a miracle. I respect you deeply for your courage and I expect that you will continue to grow and blossom. I bet you were real happy to get back to your garden though. Where did you put the chimes?
Well. I’ll talk to you soon. Let me know if you want more info and I’ll send it along. Love you dear!!!
Heather"

In the face of adversity, that is when you discover just who your true friends are. When Wayne's life changed under such traumatic circumstances, how many 'friends' came to visit him as he lay in his hospital bed? Sadly there were too few. The reality is that some of his visitors felt too awkward. I say, see beyond what happened, focus on Wayne's eyes, see his humanity.

This is a story about courage, resilience, perserverance and the power of love. When I went back to Canada, it was not so much a holiday, no, it was so much more than that. I sought positive inspiration in my own personal journey towards mental health wellbeing. The inspiration I embraced from this brave family is immeasurable.

Seldom have I witnessed such positive determination in a situation that could have torn this family apart. Heather and Wayne know that we have choices. They knew that to allow the circumstances to overwhelm them, was a sign that negativity would be given permission to win. Through the sheer strength of Heather, this permission would never be an option. I know that Heather's love for Wayne during these times of challenging stress, have motivated him to improve his quality of life.

This family unit remains undaunted. With the support of Heather's daughter Margo and her fiancee Brennan, I have seen a family that has found the inner strength to be there for each other. This inner strength will see them through such troubling times. The positive outlook they have displayed is a lesson for those of us who may have contemplated giving up. No matter what the world throws at us, we can discover the power within ourselves to not let negative forces dominate us. We can distance ourselves from a negative environment.

On May 11th, it was Mother's Day in Canada. It also marked the 10th anniversary of my best friend Rob's life coming to an end. Margo is Rob's daughter and I know Mother's Day was a poignant reminder of her dearly loved Father's passing away. Margo was only seventeen when her Dad was taken away from her. I know how devastated she was and from so far away in England, I sent my heartfelt sympathy. Margo, you are a lovely lady and it has been my honour to see you again after fifteen years. Your Father would be so proud of you and the decent spirit of him lives on.

On June 8th, 2008, Margo gave birth. My warmest congratulations to Margo and proud Father Brennan. I know you will make a wonderful family, the love you have for each other will be a powerful influence on your child. Welcome to the world Gabriel, may our legacy to you and your generation, be that we make this planet a greener, more peaceful place.

So to Heather I say. Thank you for being such a positive inspiration to me.To you Wayne, please remember that you have so much support from your determined family. Please draw strength from knowing that nobody can ever remove your dignity. I hope you can now take comfort in knowing you have a friend in me. I am here for you buddy. To Margo and Brennan, thank you for your kindness, your good natured spirit made my trip back to Canada all the more enjoyable.

I listen to the wind chimes that Heather and Wayne so kindly gave me. As I listen to the music of the chimes that now floats into my living room from my beautiful garden, I think of this strong, positive family. The wind chimes are an inspiring reminder of just how grateful I am.

There is a town in British Columbia named 'Hope'. I have fond memories of that town. Heather and Wayne have indicated to me that they would like to live in Hope. As far as I'm concerned, they already live there.

How's It Goin' Eh?

A lot of folks seem to be under the impression that Canadians say 'eh' a lot eh. I suppose that could have some credibility if you spell out the word 'Canada'. It would go like this: C 'eh' N 'eh' D 'eh' Well how about that eh!

So there I was in Vancouver. First thing to remember was that traffic proceeds on the right side of the road. Always a good idea to be wary of the way vehicles travel when you decide to cross the road. So focused with that thought I ventured out for a stroll. Safety first is the key to any trek out.

Walking along the sidewalk I tripped on the curb (kerb), slipped on a diaper, fell into the parking lot, spilt my potato chips into a puddle of gasoline, bumped into a tire (tyre) and nearly broke my cell phone. Ofcourse the preceding sentence was a load of garbage, that didn't really happen, but it does illustrate some of the differences in the way the English language is used in North America.

When it comes to differences, the difference in me from the last time I visited Vancouver was immense. When I last journeyed there, in October 2005, I was a shattered man, mentally and physically. My overwhelming illness was plainly and painfully obvious. Years of negative situations had almost destoyed the last remnants of my sanity.

That trip in October 2005 was the catalyst in my own personal road to some semblance of recovery. I so desperately wanted to get better for my family, my friends from the past, and for the sake of my own mental health wellbeing. That trip was the turning point in my life. Realising that I had a choice, I chose to seek positive alternatives. Why should I let a negative environment dictate my life? I went back to England determined to distance myself from factors that had undermined my right to happiness.

During the next two and a half years, I made a commitment to become active, to pursue positive possibilities. I challenged my anxiety and got involved with people and Organisations that revealed a great power, the remarkable power of empathy. Finally, after many years of personal torment, I embraced positive options. I met people who genuinely cared, I like to think that I demonstated my own sincere kindness in return. At long last, I was a part of something special.

May 2008, I returned to Vancouver revitalised. Yes I still had great anxiety, yet I knew that inner resolve would master unrealistic sensations of panic. The first big challenge was to have the courage and order something at McDonald's. (Some might say ordering and eating food at McDonald's takes courage anyway). In 2005, I was too scared to go in and order. Some irrational fear prevented me from having the 'audacity' to 'bother' the staff. This time, I found the courage to go in and place and order. "That comes to $6.92, have a good day." Said the dude behind the counter. Wow, I did it, a triumph in confronting my bizarre anxiety issues.

Now I was ready to face my next anxiety test. I was ready to go on public transport in Vancouver. This involved getting familiarised with a method quite different from what I was used to in Stoke. In Vancouver, you are required to put a transit card into a machine. I panicked over the thought of putting the card in the wrong way. If I did that, would the people on the bus laugh at me? Would the driver kick me off the bus for being such an idiot? Well I did put the bloody card in the wrong way, luckily the driver just smiled and indicated the correct method. Phew! No public humiliation and I used what works best for me. I had a good laugh with the driver. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm a bus virgin!" The lady driver responded: "There you go." This exchange of pleasantries was significant, last time in Vancouver, I was too scared to joke about.

Somehow I knew that this adventure in Canada was going to be thought provoking, highly emotional and of tremendous benefit to my ongoing progress towards an even better life. As the trip unfolded the experiences were even more profound than I would ever had dreamed. In my next blog, I shall tell a story of great human courage and resilience in the face of adversity.

So you might now have the impression that Canadians say 'eh' a lot eh? Well, what can I say eh? Oh yeah...how's it goin' eh?

Pterodactyl Airlines

It was 10:30 A.M., May 2nd and we waited in anticipation for the imminent departure of our flight from Manchester to Vancouver. So we waited and we waited some more. At about 11:00 A.M., the pilot made an announcement. "Ladies and gentleman, we are experiencing a slight delay. The electronic baggage loading equipment has broken down and the plane (or is that a pterodactyl?) has to be manually loaded."
So I sat there figuring that we would soon be shortly on our way. Another half an hour passed and the pilot stated: "Ladies and gentleman, the plane has now been manually loaded. However, they have loaded on the wrong luggage. They now have to manually ofload the incorrect luggage and manually load on the correct luggage. If it's any consolation to you, fourteen other planes are in a similar predicament."
Gee, that made the situation so much better? How reassuring to know that your misery was being shared by loads of other folks in other planes. How reassuring as you sit in a stuffy plane with no air conditioning and one usable toilet. Still, I reckoned that soon we would be on our way, off into the blue yonder. At long last, just gone 1:30 P.M., three hours late, we left Manchester airport. My journey, an adventure that would challenge my anxiety, had finally begun.
Now when it comes to flying, I do try to do things on the cheap. So I guess it came as no surprise that I was on a plane with three classes onboard. 'First class', 'Business class' and 'Cattle'. What I didn't realise was that being in the 'Cattle' section meant that we would have to help get the 'flying dinosour' off the ground. We were instructed in the cheap seats to put our feet through the holes in the floor and shuffle our feet in a frantic motion. I found this most odd, however 'Fred' and 'Barney' sitting next to me, were well into it. So with our feet powered momentum, the flying dinosour flapped into the afternoon sky. Welcome to 'Pterodactyl Airlines'.
Over Scotland, over Iceland, over the southern tip of Greenland, our winged beast flapped. Then the route changed from the usual continuance over northern Canada. The pilot took what could be best described as a more scenic path. Below was the prairie Province of Saskatchewan and the city of Regina. From there we passed over Calgary, Alberta and got the fantastic bonus of flying over the magnificence of the Rockies. Wow!
We were now descending into Vancouver. Flying through the Coast mountain range, I glimpsed at the awesome beauty of Greater Vancouver. Seeing the wonderful vision of my other home, my other life, my other world, brought the slightest trace of a tear to my eye. What positive experiences lay before me? How well would I challenge my anxiety and low self-esteem? Brimming with positive thoughts, I prepared for the final descent into Vancouver International Airport.
The pilot came back on the loudspeaker. "Would the people in the cheap seats get ready to put their feet back through the holes in the floor. We need you to use your feet as brakes on the runway! Yikes! What the hell will that do to the remaining sole on my trainers? I think that next time I shall spend the extra money. Saving money on my flight is one thing, yet what about the cost of replacing my trainers?
We landed safely. Local time was 2:30 P.M., an hour later than the time we left Manchester. Now it was time for the joy of going through Customs. Upon reaching Customs, I could not believe the huge number of people waiting to get through. I suppose that was partly due to our three hour delay and missing our allocated landing time. I felt, like I'm sure many others, very stressed at the chaos that ensued for the next hour.
Then I got through to the reception area. Waiting very patiently were my Mum and my Stepdad. I was here in Vancouver. How thrilled I was to see them. How thrilled I was with myself. The first hurdle in my ongoing challenge to live a better life was well and truly under way. The excitement, the adrenalin surging through me, was assurance that this trip was going to better than my last visit here. I knew it, and just as significant, my family could see how much better I was. I had made a pledge to them that I would embrace a more positive life. I was inspired and I knew that over the next three weeks, I would try and be an inspiration to my dear friends from the past. Little did I know that this journey was to be even more poignant than I would ever have dreamed.
So I was at the start of a great adventure. In the following blogs, I shall tell of the great inner strength and resilience of some truly remarkable people who have come back into my life. The first day drew to a close. I thought the sun would never set that day. No 'jet lag' (or as it was called in the olden days 'propeller lag'?) heck I didn't even have 'wing lag' from being a part of the 'Pterodactyl Airlines' experience. (Okay, it wasn't really a 'flying dinosaur' I was on..as a matter of fact, the airline I was on was very good..even to us folks in the cheap seats)
So no parade in my honour upon my return to Vancouver. I was kinda' relieved about that. I mean, shucks, did I really need the embarrassment? The real honour was rediscovering and rekindling warm, sincere, friendships. I am so grateful for what I have. I thank you for your time.

Recluse Still On The Loose.

Greetings friends.  I am now at the the halfway point of my adventure in Vancouver.  When I return to the 'green and pleasant land', that is England, I shall be doing a series of blogs regarding the emotional and heart wrenching journey that I have experienced.  

I have witnessed and embraced the great inner strength of some incredibly brave people.  Their determination in the face of adversity has been an inspiration to me.  Their resilience, which I shall reflect upon at a later date, has made my determination to choose a positive life, grow even stronger. 

So when I return to Leek, I shall be going on a bit of a 'Blogathon'.   I hope you will honour me in reading my stories about the ongoing determination of my rediscovered friends and the inspirational and fear challenging time I had.

In closing, I know that my return to England will be so different than the last time I came back. Last time I came back to a world of emptiness, devoid of friendship.  This time, thanks to all of you, I come back to England, warmed with the knowledge that I have friends.  Your continued support and the support of my friends and family in Canada, has made me more determined to choose positive anticipation rather than be overwhelmed by negative speculation.

Recluse still on the loose?  Maybe, but I sure have enjoyed my time beyond the doorway rather than hiding under the duvet.