Off track

Me.

Ever since I was a boy I loved to fix things. I hated seeing things broken or neglected and seemed to be drawn to them, if I could I would fix it up and get it working again or if not cajole someone else into doing so. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to function as intended. I remember seeing someone throw out two old Decka record players when I was about twelve and had no electrical knowledge whatsoever. I asked if I could have them. They were those suitcase type record players that had a carry handle and a lid. I took them home and as my mates looked on dismantled the record deck from the case. I worked out which part wasn’t functioning and swapped it for the one off the other one. We switched it on and my mates waited with baited breath while I put on the only record I had ‘ Gilbert O’sullivan’s Claire’ in my defence I was only twelve. It worked a treat. My mates thought it was genius, one of them still calls me the eternal doer upper to this day.

Growing up it was expected I went into my dad’s business which was painting and decorating, but after years of working on site with him during summer holidays and the like I hated it. I knew in my heart of hearts I would never become a decorator or join his company, but I never knew exactly what I’d do until I met John our neighbour from across the road.

John was an ex champion grass track rider that had owned the local motorcycle garage. He was semi retired and did mechanics and converted Bedford vans into Dormobile campers on his drive from a kit. We got talking and I spent all my spare time over there helping him. It made me think I’d like to be a mechanic one day.

I did indeed become an apprentice mechanic when I left school, but after six months of working for a tyrannical boss I left and took a job in a local greengrocers going to Birmingham market at 4am each morning in a Bedford lorry with the boss, anything not to work for my dad’s firm. It was weeks before I told him I had left my apprenticeship and worked in a greengrocers.

The greengrocers store was a great experience in my young life. I had learned to deal with customers and do deals with stall holders at the market, and handle money properly. most importantly I met my future wife there. Lou began working there as a part time school girl and I took a shine to her. It was a few months before I asked her out, but eventually I plucked up the courage and we started dating. Young love had blossomed!

However I realised I had to get a more responsible job at some point in my life, the grocery trade was fun, but the money and prospects very poor. I applied for a job as a trainee transport manager in a large window factory and got taken on. Not a job I had ever seen as a career choice for myself, but good opportunities were scarce back then, so I took it and soon felt right at home.

That job was quite responsible. Pretty soon I was in sole charge of transport and on occasion the whole factory. I got to further my education via their involvement with the government schemes they were connected with and even studied structural engineering to post graduate level. I learned all aspects of curtain wall building and did site visits and measures on quiet days, I even did troubleshooting for them when the job wasn’t going right. It was certainly a very hectic and serious job at times, but towards the end I realised ( faced the reality) I wasn’t really suited to the critical life of an engineer, I was more free spirited and artisan than a person who enjoyed calcs and the rigidity of that work, coupled with the responsibility of my other duties I really wasn’t enjoying myself. I felt I wasn’t paid my worth either, and after 8 years with them cleared my offices ( yep I had two ) handed back the keys to my company car and decided to leave for a life in Bournemouth.

I suppose I’d unwittingly armed myself perfectly for our life in the lane. With my mechanical and building experience and love of doing things up I now had the seeds of an ability that would see me through the next stage of our life, Bournemouth wasn’t right for us, but somehow the lane was.

 

Is it reading okay. Should I do more. What would you like me tell you about now, would it make a book?

Feedback would be appreciated please

 

Yep agree on the length of story, obviously I’m keeping them short and sweet for the forum draft in the hope it will be just long enough to tell the tale and not too long as to put people off. Thank you

 

Our son Neil was born reluctantly on Sunday the 24th of April at 07.27.

Mum wasn’t doing too well after a difficult 14 hour long birth so the nurse gave him straight to me for his first feed while she helped deal with Lou.

Neil and I bonded immediately, as I held him I felt the love of parenthood for the first time in my life, it was a bond that would never be broken, an overpowering sense of awe and love that only first moments in life can create. As I looked at him I felt I’d finally done something perfect, between us we had created a person, a new all in one piece beautiful boy.

I remembered that first moment forever, when he took the first steps into school and waved nervously back at us with his satchel and uniform, the first time he played piano in assembly, his first concert in the town hall, when he brought his first girlfriend home, and the day he received his music degree in Coventry cathedral, all those first moments brought back that very first moment in the hospital when I fed him his first bottle and felt the pure pleasure of being a Dad.

He’s my mate. So too is his brother Will. I’m blessed with two boys that I’ve been lucky enough to help into this world, they’re cracking lads and have filled Lou and my lives with joy and love.

We have had our moments like all families, but thankfully nothing serious.

While Lou was pregnant my customers on jobs gave us cards, my customers on the lorry job gave us cards and the company I worked for had a collection. For some reason everyone seemed very pleased for us to be having a baby after twelve years of marriage and showed it in gifts. One of the places I delivered to in Rowner Portsmouth was staffed by a group of hard acting lads that I’d had real problems getting on with in the beginning, they asked what we needed for the baby and clubbed together to buy a beautiful new cot. They amazed me with their care and thought.

Another company in Chichester sent me a huge £250 road map rug when they found out we’d had a boy. That was just a superb act of kindness and thought. I have always thought I would do any favour for them even now and I haven’t seen them for nearly twenty years. I won’t name them, but they were a big carpet wholesale company near the Solent in the town I mentioned earlier.

When we returned from hospital my sister in law had filled our house with flowers from the leftover money from the company whip round. As well as buying the things we had asked for they had an excess of money that literally filled our house with flowers. It was an amazing sight that Lou and I have never forgotten, we’d had a torrid time in the hospital and coming home to that sight was unforgettable.

The forty or so cards we had kept were opened that day too, they all had fivers and tenners in them and some had gift cards. One company from Warsash had put £50 in a card. We had no idea how we could ever repay their generosity, but Lou said “ perhaps we already had by just being us” who knows. I was overwhelmed though.

In the lane our neighbours were just as generous. Each day someone would pop by with a gift or an offer to walk the dogs or babysit for Lou to have a nap. They brought fresh cooked pies and other Stuff they had made especially for us as they’d heard Lou had been ill. They all said we could call them any time and when I went back to my jobs there was always someone around to help Lou out and see she was okay. Not least Maureen, our beloved Maureen, she’d just been diagnosed with cancer and we were to lose her later that year, but she was there for Lou and Neil, full on and bubbly. We’d gained a massive chunk of love in our lives that year and later we were to lose a massive chunk too.

1994 what a year!

 

It’s a shame if the fishing has tailed off Baz. It was a superb spot and I had heard people say there was salmon coming back. There were definitely trout I had a few back then!

 

I agree with the padding out and spoiling it entirely. I want it to sound fresh and spontaneous. I do think I can lengthen the chapters without taking away from them though, there is enough to fill a book still in my head.

Thank you

 

And so life down the lane went on. Our house grew into a roomier house with it’s very own set of stairs and a huge loft that we could now convert quietly into a large bedroom. We could also quietly build a conservatory and hope the council didn’t notice. We were confident the council wouldn’t as they seldom ventured down the lane unless prompted, and their policy of ignoring us was ingrained into their culture. We just got on with the conservatory!

At work I’d been busy getting more and more building work that I’d quoted for, but it was all for the following summer and the handyman stuff had dried up a bit so when my lorry driving boss asked me to take over as traffic manager on a temporary basis I reluctantly went back into a transport office working 12 until 8 each evening. I really didn’t want this job, but circumstances dictated differently and we needed to pay the bills like everyone. I was soon immersed in the hectic world of a busy transport company again, dealing with customers, drivers and clients, the job was extremely stressful as I well expected when I said yes, and predictably as before I felt disheartened by office work. I seemed to be getting up, having breakfast, doing a small handyman type job in the lane and then into work for 12 for 8 or more hours of stress, coming home, having tea, walk the dogs and wash for bed, before starting all over again the next day. I was back on the treadmill I’d opted out of 6 years ago.

Not only was I doing this, but I was driving waste oil collection tankers on Saturdays and some Sundays, while still quoting for building jobs.

Something had to give!

 

Redundancy.

With all the jobs I was trying to juggle, a new born baby and a house to complete I can’t think how I had time to sleep. To be Frank it was probably something I would have taken a pill to avoid if I could have back then, I was a tad driven. I can say that now looking back and smile at my old self, but at the time it was full on and I seemed to take it in my stride with a smile ( or so I thought ) unbeknown to me I was pushing myself way beyond my body’s limits.

A new company had taken over our delivery firm and that was why I was suddenly propelled back into an office job, basically I had the office job or no job. They had promised us that our depot would be kept open in favour of their head Office Depot if we beat their figures for successful deliveries.

Me and the depot manager John were told this from day one, and so we had pursued our staff to beat them.

Most of the staff and drivers were friends and family. 12 office staff and 36 drivers. People had loans and mortgages on the back of the secure job they all thought they had, but that was with the previous company. Now, we had to get this right, and we did.

The Christmas was when we thought they would close us if we were to close, but Christmas came and went, our figures were fantastic and we silently congratulated ourselves on a job well done. We put our heads down and worked diligently to ensure this. Things were looking good, so good in fact, when Phil one of the drivers asked if he should take out the mortgage he’d applied for, we all said yes.

March saw things change. The company announced our depot closure out of the blue, staff from our office that had moved over to head office had even kept it quiet, it hit us like a lightning bolt. We were devastated!

John and I worked hard phoning hauliers and warehouses in the district trying to place our lads in jobs and relocate others within the company. The midnight oil was well and truly burned as we attended meetings and sounded out the other companies locally over desks, bars and even in one case, the snooker club.

I am proud to say John and I managed to secure positions for everyone bar three people who said they’d source their own jobs. They were Big Alan, Arthur and Rocket Ron. The rest we helped into new jobs. Yay us!

Myself, I was offered the Bristol depot, an increase in salary and a moving subsidy. I was given until April to mull it over and told by the MD I was in the frame for depot manager at a new central depot that they had in the planning. Things for me looked good.

I took the full three weeks mulling it over and gave some careful consideration into how I would tell them to stick their offer where the sun doesn’t shine.

They must have thought I was mad to even consider I’d work for them again, I was mad, but only at them and their appalling treatment of the nicest bunch of people I have ever had the pleasure of working with, no I had already sorted a job for myself with the waste oil company and that’s where I was going, Bristol, no chance!

The depot closed in April as they said. We all went our separate ways and I began working for the oil company the following Monday. All was good!

Basically, I was given a tanker lorry, a set run, a basic salary, some cash and told to go buy waste oil and sell it back to them. What could be easier?

It was an easy job. I soon learned all the tricks, the ducking and diving to get into a garage or dealership or bus depot or even a train depot, a listening ear or a bottle of scotch goes a long way. I could make money without trying some days. A bund wall full of diesel at a rail goods yard needs pumping out, and if it was at 2 am it was going to cost, it was up to me what I charged, it was my money. Then I sold the diesel back to my company. Win win.

Within six weeks I could fill a tanker with oil by 9 am every day. My money was secure and I could get on with my other jobs or projects. My weekend sometimes saw me driving a grain bulker to Cardiff on the Saturday to help out a local farmer/ haulier, I could not stop for a minute.

Then one morning I couldn’t lift a cup of tea...

 

Recovery

I literally couldn’t lift a cup of tea. One morning I woke at 4am as usual, made my flask and a cuppa, went to wash etc, and when I went to lift the cup of tea I couldn’t. I just couldn’t physically lift the cup, I remember nervously laughing to myself and trying again, but no; all my strength had gone completely, it was something I just couldn’t get my head around at all, I tried and tried, but after an hour I gave up and went back to bed. I asked Lou to phone into work and explain and told her it was my cold and I was under the weather. It was true, I had had a sniffle for a few days. I told myself that’s what it was and pulled the duvet over me.

A few days later I was still no better, I still couldn’t lift a cup, but worse still my get up and go seemed to have got up and gone. I made an appointment with the Doctor.

The Doctor did a few tests, then asked me to fill in a questionnaire. One of the questions asked if I had ever had thoughts on suicide. I simply thought that meant exactly that, have you ever had thoughts on suicide. I had and said yes, but I’d only thought about them along the lines of why do people do that and the usual stuff about what they do to commit hari kari, I’d never thought of doing it myself. Oh well my mind wasn’t working properly at the time. He diagnosed depression and sent me away with a prescription for antidepressants.

Three months later I saw another Doctor and explained my worries. I didn’t feel depressed and I had certainly never thought of doing myself in, but since I’d been on these tablets I felt like a zombie, I couldn’t remember stuff, I had no appetite, I could sleep continually and my attention span was zilch.

This new guy did a few more tests and asked me lots of questions about my lifestyle previous to the cup of tea incident and my week of lethargy that lead to my first visit. When he was done he asked me to return a few days later.

A few days later he said I had been wrongly diagnosed and the tablets had done me no good whatsoever. He felt I’d just been exhausted and the previous years stress had culminated in my body shutting itself down. He said I could have had a few weeks off and began a exercise regime to get going again, but now I had an uphill battle, it had been left too long in his opinion and if I was to get back to full fitness I was going to have to do it properly and work hard at it.

It took me twelve months of walking, running, cycling and swimming to get back to previous fitness levels. 12 months of pure hard work. I ate less drank less and worked less. In fact I didn’t work at all, I simply got my body fit again. My mind was a different thing.

In those 18 months or so I’d lost something, my smile had gone, I didn’t remember simple things and I struggled to read a book. My confidence had wained and I had most definitely become slightly reclusive, but each day I got up and pushed myself, I walked or ran carrying Neil in a sling on my back, I’d cycle with Neil on a child carrier behind the saddle, we’d do miles and miles over hills, down river tracks and all over. It was another bond formed that he remembers nothing about, for me it is ingrained into my mind like a film that reruns when I least expect it, but eventually I knew I was back to my fittest self. I knew it, but with my new found lack of confidence I didn’t know what to do with it. Tom had the answers.

Tom had been listening to and watching my progress throughout my illness. One day he popped in to see if I fancied doing a slabbing job with him, but I made lots of excuses about my bad back I’d had etc. Tom told me to go get some ibuprofen cream from the bathroom and rubbed half a tube into my back. Then he had word with me.

Tom told me he knew what I was going through. Told me I had to get back out there and take on the world, I didn’t have to fight them, just get on with life and take life on. He told me to stick out my chest, put on my smile, offer an handshake and listen to what people had to say. Mm and awe in the right place and offer sympathy, but never advice unless asked, but most importantly, chest out and smile. In the meantime we had a slabbing job to do.

Another friend who is a Doctor spoke to me about anxiety and how we build it up by worrying and overthinking things, she suggested I may have been a person that thinks too much. She gave me a mantra that works even now “when you begin to think too much about something, stop!” It works a treat for me!’

To the point that I seldom think too much at all if I can avoid it

Those 18 months were the worst of my life. It changed me, but now I realise it changed me in a good way. I wouldn’t recommend it as a lifestyle revamp, but I do like to think I’m a better and more understanding person for it.

Cest la vie, or should I say ‘ la vie Peut etre comme ca!

 

Hardest one to write so far. So much not said!

Going to take a breather again before getting back in the happy groove next time

 

They never did name it, they were using similar analogies to what you just did. Chronic exhaustion or nervous exhaustion were words banded about l, but I wasn’t aware of any particular tag for it, sorry