Previous Chapter<\/a><\/p>\n .<\/p>\n\n\n\n .<\/p>\n\n\n\n .<\/p>\n\n\n\n .<\/p>\n\n\n\n .<\/p>\n\n\n\n .<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n At the end<\/p>\n\n\n\n We found ourselves<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ecstatic<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sad<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dancing<\/p>\n\n\n\n Breathless<\/p>\n\n\n\n Out of time<\/p>\n\n\n\n Forever<\/p>\n\n\n\n Slow<\/p>\n\n\n\n Slow<\/p>\n\n\n\n Quick<\/p>\n\n\n\n Defiant steps<\/p>\n\n\n\n Laughing till<\/p>\n\n\n\n Between our lips<\/p>\n\n\n\n Silence<\/p>\n\n\n\n Unearthed us<\/p>\n\n\n\n This is where<\/p>\n\n\n\n We kiss goodbye<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hello<\/p>\n\n\n\n Forever<\/p>\n\n\n\n Out of time<\/p>\n\n\n\n First Days in Halls and College \u2013 Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n [ Image: Drawing-of-Ralph-West-Halls-Bar-from-my-room-1983-1024×771.jpeg ]<\/p>\n\n\n\n Drawing of the Bar from my Room 1983<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dream 2023:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m looking at my young self drawing the student bar across the way from his room in Ralph West Halls. The night sky is dark and he seems captivated by the light under which a few students are playing pool, smoking, and fooling around. I remember that drawing, I\u2019ve still got it somewhere. As he finishes, I look at it over his shoulder with my 58-year-old values and think, \u201cIt\u2019s ok\u201d. He looks around at me and says, \u201cI can see you, are you me when I\u2019m older?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes,\u201d I answer matter-of-factly, I should be surprised, but this is a dream and, well, it just feels very normal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He pauses, looks at me and asks, \u201cWhat happens to me, when will I die?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laugh, \u201cI don\u2019t know, I haven\u2019t died yet, but I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve got much time left\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat makes you say that?\u201d he asks<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere\u2019s something wrong with me, I\u2019m ill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looks me in the eye, \u201cI\u2019m sorry about that, I mean I really am.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He purses his lips, they\u2019re a lot fuller than mine are now. My ones have been rubbed down by the friction of life, and a lot of talking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow old are you?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m 58,\u201d I say, waiting for him to tell me I don\u2019t look that old, but he doesn\u2019t. Instead, he nods approvingly and adds, \u201cSo, I\u2019m going to make it till then, it\u2019s good to know I\u2019ve got so long\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shake my head, \u201cIt isn\u2019t that long, trust me, it goes by ever so quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s a pause while he thinks, \u201cSo, what\u2019s going to happen to me, will I get married?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m not sure whether to add an expression of disappointment or joy as I answer, \u201cI haven\u2019t so far,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Slightly disturbed he wants to prize this one open more. \u201cWell, will I find anyone who\u2019ll love me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m not sure how much I should tell him, so keep it simple. \u201cYes,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiles, \u201cThat\u2019s a relief\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Realising I might be getting his expectations up a bit too high I add, \u201cWell, it\u2019s not that simple. There\u2019s something about love you ought to know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d he asks<\/p>\n\n\n\n So I tell him, \u201cAs you learn about love the less it becomes about being loved, it\u2019s more about learning to love people truly. It\u2019s not an easy journey.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I can see by his, (my) expression that he doesn\u2019t understand, and I don\u2019t blame him. Still, I decide to tell him a little about the main relationships in my life, their names and what happened. As you know, that took a bit of time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Halfway through, regretting his question, he interrupts, \u201cWill I have any children?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n More relieved than him to get off the subject I say, \u201cYes, 4, two boys and two girls with two different women.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looks a bit bemused, \u201cMy life sounds very complicated.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n I think, \u201cYou don\u2019t know the half of it.\u201d Then laughing I explain, \u201cYes, you\u2019ll be there a lot for your sons, but you\u2019ll pretty much be an absent father to your daughters.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A bit too quick to judge in my opinion, he interjects, \u201cThat\u2019s bad, why do I do that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I can\u2019t be bothered to go into details so just go for the, \u201cIt\u2019s complicated. But it wasn\u2019t to do with them. No matter what they\u2019d have been like it would have gone the same way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Still with eyebrows in as high a position as possible, he asks, \u201cWhat will my, I mean our, kids be like?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laugh a little, \u201cWell, all parents say their kids are beautiful, clever and talented, but our ones are, although I can\u2019t take any credit for that beyond genetics, it\u2019s their mothers who did all the work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looks disapprovingly at me again. \u201cSo will I be successful?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m not sure how to answer that so ask, \u201cHow do you measure that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiles, \u201cOK, will I be rich and famous?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t want to discourage him too much, \u201cNo, but you won\u2019t be poor or a complete failure either.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He sighs, and asks, \u201cWill I be happy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sigh too, \u201cIt\u2019ll be a mixture, sometimes you will be, and there\u2019ll be times when you\u2019re not, but try to remember most of the time things get better.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He bites his lip, \u201cAre you happy now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sway my head from side to side a little, \u201cYes, although I\u2019m not happy about being ill. I\u2019d have liked to live at least into my 80s but I don\u2019t think that\u2019s going to happen now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Slightly panicked, he tells me, \u201cYou\u2019re beginning to fade away, there\u2019s so much more I want to ask, have you got any advice before you go?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I try to think of what might help but only come up with, \u201cYou\u2019re going to live an interesting life.\u201d I can see he\u2019s a little bewildered, but that was the best I could come up with on the spot, and then we wake, 40 years apart again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n First Days in Halls and College \u2013 Part 2 \u2013 1983<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As soon as I woke I could feel I\u2019d had an important dream, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn\u2019t recall it. Still haunted by the feeling it left me with, I got dressed, then went downstairs for breakfast where I had a laugh with a few of the others before getting my bike, pressing play on my pseudo-Walkman, and cycling up Worfield Street. When I got to the top of it I turned left onto Parkgate Road and then right onto Battersea Bridge where, as I got halfway up the incline I knocked a taxi driver\u2019s wing mirror out of position with my handlebars. I stopped and reversed to where he was stuck in traffic. At first, the driver was annoyed but once he saw I was trying to help he guided me, and as it hit the right position he put his thumb up and smiled. I said sorry again then cycled on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n First Days in Halls and College \u2013 Part 3 \u2013 1983 \u2013 The Present Presence<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I wasn\u2019t aware of it at the time, but there was a presence continually pushing up against me, and although I can see it clearly now, it\u2019s easy to forget it\u2019s here still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Punch Line \u2013 Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n If you\u2019re going to tell a joke, and you\u2019re hoping to leave your audience in stitches, delivering its punch line correctly is going to be essential, although fucking it up will normally get a few laughs too. The same goes for stories, it\u2019s how we end them that\u2019ll leave the biggest impression. But when it comes to biographies it\u2019s the journey rather than the arrival that\u2019ll hold most of the emotional resonance, unless, of course, they die tragically or heroically, neither of which I\u2019m planning on doing soon if I can help it. So, given most of the interesting things in our lives tend to happen in the early years or midway and not at the end I should be able to come up with at least one thing, you know, the way people do, maybe receiving a knighthood or some other sign of success but, well\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Abnormally Normal<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I had asked a few of my fellow karateka to take a look at the chapter on karate and disability a few weeks ago and when one of them asked how I was planning to end the book he said, \u201cYou should end it with you being awarded [such and such] a grade in karate.\u201d When I said I didn\u2019t want to do that he looked a bit puzzled, so I tried to explain that, for me, what\u2019s been important has been living my life with both a connection to my disability and a separation from it too and with that in mind I didn\u2019t want to end this book with me being awarded anything, or receiving applause from my peers, especially because, if you take my disability out of the equation, I haven\u2019t done anything that out of the ordinary. But that\u2019s the point. I along with the rest of us have done some good things, some bad, and if anything, are not all our lives exceptional even if when compared to more extraordinary folk, we may erroneously be categorised as having lived unexceptional lives. So, in many ways, this is a kind of celebration of all those who bear the mundane, because within such lives we all still come into contact with the same complex themes that can be found in the Greek Myths, Shakespeare, or any other work that weaves itself around being human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Speaking of the mundane, I\u2019ve often talked about how we\u2019re driven to escape it and brush against the extraordinary whenever we can, however, when I returned home after being ill in 2017 and walked back into my living room I felt so relieved to be back that I almost cried as I\u2019d thought I would never see it again. It was then that I realised just how important our mundane lives are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Punch Line \u2013 Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I haven\u2019t made life easy for myself by ending this at the beginning of my adult life, I mean had I gotten old I could have at least juxtaposed my glorious younger days against my older, nearly dead ones, although, to be fair, I may have had to wait a few more decades to do that version. Alternatively, I could tantalise you with what\u2019s coming next, I mean there will be action, danger, love, and intrigue set within exotic locations, but that would be a bit Hollywood and you know I wouldn\u2019t do that to you\u2026 would I.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n 2023 \u2013 The Blue Paint Story \u2013 May 2023<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n You may remember my CCTV systems had caught, at least on their memory chips, the guy who poured paint on my car blue-handed and eventually, it ended up going to court where he kept asking for extra time. The next hearing was due a few days ago, in the first week of May 2023, but I didn\u2019t hear anything from the court, so presumed it had been delayed further and then I got a letter from the Crown Prosecution Service. In the first paragraph they stated they were dropping the case, which as you can imagine, I was a bit unhappy about, but as I read on I kind of got their logic. The accused had passed away, and aside from feeling sorry for him because he\u2019d committed suicide, I was also a bit disappointed as I\u2019d hoped at some point to have found out why he damaged my car in the first place. But as with many things in life, there won\u2019t be any clear-cut closure in this instance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Testing May 2023<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n On May 24th and early in June I\u2019ll be going for more tests, I\u2019ll let you know here what happens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Cruellest Month \u2013 2023<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mum, Boris, and John, all died in the month of April, and just a few weeks ago my mother\u2019s sister passed away too. One of her daughters, my cousin, had been sorting through her belongings when she found a newspaper article about me written when I was 16, so she emailed it to me. While most of it was about how inspiring I was, they obviously didn\u2019t know me well, and some of it was inaccurate, I was surprised to see that somehow I\u2019d managed to get the journalist to relay my thoughts that \u201csociety must do more to involve disabled people without making them special cases,\u201d and then cited special youth clubs for disabled people as an example of a misdirected act of goodwill. After all, I argued, all youth clubs should be inclusive and welcoming of all youths, disabled or otherwise. Nowadays, you\u2019d be hard-pressed to find any youth clubs, but that\u2019s another issue. The article also ended with the first poem I ever wrote, which I find a bit naff nowadays, but its final lines were. \u201cAnd in the end, what is left, but memories of love and wandering thoughts of death.\u201d Which kind of fits well with these last few chapters. Had Leonard Cohen ever come across any of my work back then he\u2019d have probably thought he wasn\u2019t that gloomy after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n [ Image: Article-about-Simon-27-8-1981.jpg ]<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n OK, we\u2019re getting very close to the end, and normally the finale closes with a curtain call in which all the characters who played a part take a bow and are either cheered or booed at by the audience. Don\u2019t worry, I\u2019m going to skip that bit, however, if I had done so, then before my parents or any of those I fell in love with were to make an appearance there\u2019d have to be a walk-on part for the German soldier who didn\u2019t kill my grandfather, and his role wouldn\u2019t just be a celebration of him doing what he did but it\u2019d be for all those we\u2019ll never know who had a profound effect on our lives. The unknown soldier and the unknown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Moral of The Story<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n One day while walking near the woods a man was suddenly confronted by a vicious tiger. He ran for his life but soon came to the edge of a high cliff. The Tiger slowly approached so, in desperation the man climbed down a vine and dangled over the fatal precipice. As he hung there, he looked down to see the sea crashing against the rocks hundreds of feet below. As he looked to see if it was safe to climb back up two mice came out of a hole in the cliff and began gnawing on the vine. Suddenly, he noticed just ahead of him a plump wild red strawberry. He gently removed it, placed it in his mouth and was taken by just how delicious it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Present Presence \u2013 2023<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The presence I mentioned a bit earlier, the one that pressed against me 40 years ago is something we can\u2019t see or feel, even though it\u2019s touching us all continuously, and within every moment\u2019s passing, we break through its membrane, from the present into the future. These instants may seem so insignificant they\u2019re not worth noticing, yet the consequences of what they hold for us may be the most profound moments of our lives. And then, later, as we look back, so much of what we\u2019ll remember will be experienced as these small segments of time, and their significance will be apparent because we know where they led.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even here, in these pages, there are so many moments we shared together, too many to list, but what immediately comes to mind for me is, Boris\u2019s eyes catching Angela\u2019s in the coach\u2019s rear-view mirror, my mother looking at me for the first time, the man showing Ruth the baby otters, Eddie\u2019s dad, Moshe, helping Battiya onto the train, Jules watching me fall when we first met in the college, Joanna and I kissing in the churchyard, and of course amongst them all, there\u2019s you and I meeting for the first time. Little moments that change the course of our lives forever, out of time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If I\u2019m not out of time, I\u2019ll try to write the next few volumes, but if I don\u2019t get the opportunity, I wanted to tell you, that I was glad we met, even if you think we didn\u2019t, we kind of did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n First Days in Halls and College \u2013 Part 4 \u2013 A Happy Beginning<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As the future presence pushed against me from every direction I moved forward into it. There was a sunny haze that promised a summer\u2019s day and the traffic over the bridge was still almost stationary, so, after hitting the taxi\u2019s wing mirror I ambled along cautiously, looking to my right to see the sun glinting on the Thames and to my left, Fulham power station billowing smoke from its chimneys. There was a very slight chill in the air, but I felt myself in the moment and was happy to be alive. Then as I got to the top of the bridge\u2019s summit I took in a big breath, pushed down hard on my pedal to pick up speed and travelled out of the frame of the present I\u2019d just been in, the one you\u2019re viewing this through now and disappeared into a future one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/simonsdiary.co.uk\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/05\/Featured-Image-for-Chapter-46-smaller-300x260.jpg\")
<\/a>Chapter 46 – The End of the Beginning<\/h1>\n\n\n\n