"Pride and deception, the same kind of pain,
and all that's left for me to lose, is meant for you to gain.
Playing it close, stealing your time,
but who care's anyway? I've gone the extra mile.
Lifting me up, tearing me down.
All you give me is indecision, the classic run-around.
Bringing me higher, keeping me whole.
Now I feel like I'm living, living in a Dust Bowl..."
The above lyrics from the title track of the new album by Joe Bonamassa perfectly describes some of the feelings and frustrations that I've experienced in recent times.
I previously wrote 30 blogs under the guise of 'Nomadic Steve' and the title of 'A Spritual Journey To Find A Home' ~ please find link below:
http://aspiritualjourneytofindahome.blogspot.com/
This was followed by an additional 13 blogs whilst calling myself 'Solo Steve' under the title of 'Observations of a Single Male' ~ please also find link below:
http://observationsofasinglemale.blogspot.com/
Since writing 'Ramblin' Man!' I had hoped that these old blogs would've become obsolete, as the two blogs would hopefully tie themselves up nicely together, as I was optimistic that I would've found my spiritual home by being alongside that special lady in my life, thus making me no longer single.
The path of true love has never run smoothly for me, but with a big of 'lady-luck' on my side, I may yet achieve my aspirations...time will tell, I guess?
I shall always remain a hopeless romantic, and an eternal optimist...and I strongly believe that no amount of disappointment in my life will ever allow me to change these principles and philosophies.
To this extent I hope that within a few months I shall be in a position of contentment, happiness and peace.
Until that time, or until I find something meaningful to write about, I shall continue with my ramblin' in a practical sense, but won't be writing any further blogs for the time being.
Please feel free to contact me anytime via comments on this blog, or via Facebook, or by my personal e-mail address: stevemuskett@yahoo.com
Many thanks for all your love, kindness & support.
Take care xx
Ramblin' Steve
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
These Boots Are Made For Walkin'
When I moved from Bath to Bristol quite a few years ago, I re-discovered the joy of walking.
This rapidly escalated into trekking, hiking, rambling...call it what you will.
I sold my car and started walking everywhere. Combined with the nature of the physical job I was in at the time, working a nightshift which messed up my metabolism, and packing in the booze for the while, the weight just dropped off.
Inside of three months I'd lost two stone and at my lowest weight I only scaled nine-and-half stone ~ I was all sinewy, lean and toned, and I even had a six-pack for a while! Lol.
I had tried to resurrect and re-live my footballing days, but alas the accumilative injuries had taken their toll.
Any sustained pressure or impact on my joints made my body ache for weeks, especially my knees and ankles, so much so that I couldn't even run anymore...yet I could walk all day with no problems whatsoever.
The worst injuries that I'd sustained were two seperate blood clots (one in my right thigh, one in my right calf), a right knee which still can't 'lock-out' due to the effects of a very dubious tackle (it was so bad that one of the opponents studs was actually embedded into my knee-cap!), and worst of all...a severely twisted pelvis.
The impact of the twisted pelvis wasn't initially known, but after repeated and lengthy treatment the full extent of the injury was discovered. The lower back had been put out of place to try to balance the pelvis, then the middle of my spine bent the opposite way to try to counter-balance this damage, and finally the top of my spine also bent in the direction of the lower back to further try to counter-balance the injury. This resulted in my spine taking on an 'S' shape, but fortunately with the help of a great oesteopath my back was eased back into some form of normal appearance.
However, there remains a permanently trapped nerve in the bottom of my back, where the muscle has fused to the bone, but the doctor's advised me to live with the occassional discomfort as they feel it's far too delicate and risky to correct by way of an operation...hence my competitive football days were finished.
But back to the walking...
With the impact of these injuries I was left with the knowledge that extensive walking was definitely my best option of exercise. Whilst in Bristol (Bradley Stoke) I regularly took a three mile circuit around the conservation area where I lived, as well as walking to and from work every day.
Then in Cheltenham I undertook a four mile walk around the city every day first thing in the morning.
When I moved to Berkshire (Crowthorne) I regularly walked in the woods to keep me fit (the same woods which have recently been destroyed by the forest fires I'm afraid to say).
Once I moved back to Bognor I walked along the seafront every day, from West-End car park right along to Elmer, just past Felpham (the picture attached to this blog was taken as the sun was setting one early evening along Bognor Promenade).
Even when I visited New Zealand I purposely trekked and hiked my around the South Island.
Specifically there was the trek along Waterfall Creek and climbing up Mount Iron, both in Wanaka.
Also I spent a day hiking along the Abel Tasman Coastal Track within the Abel Tasman National Park.
And finally, I completed all sections of the Peninsula Walk in Kaikaura.
Now that I'm living in Chichester I walk to and from work every day, and I usually go on at least one ramble over the weekend ~ this takes the form of about three hours continuous walking, which by my reckoning equates to approximately 12 miles. Initially I trekked along the Chichester Ship Canal tow path until it reaches Chichester Marina. At the back of the Marina you can pick up the Salterns Way trail all the way into Fishbourne, before crossing farmland to meet up with Centurion Way which meanders all the way to Lavant and beyond.
You can then either check out the woodland around Brandy Hole Copse, or continue to as far as Binderton, when you can take a public bridal way across the West Dean Estate and hike up the steep hill to the Trundle.
Once you reach this point the views are breathtaking. Behind you is the Goodwood Racecourse, to the east you can view Bognor, directly in front is Chichester, and if you gaze to the west you can clearly see Spinnaker Tower in Portsmouth, which is over twenty miles away.
All of these routes that I've undertaken are very scenic in places and extremely peaceful and tranquil.
I genuinely find that I think better when I'm walking, and believe me I've had plenty to think about recently.
Hopefully the next blog will provide some answers, and it should be able to tie up the two previous series of blogs that I've written ~ 'A Spiritual Journey To Find A Home' and 'Observations of a Single Male'.
Ramblin' Steve
This rapidly escalated into trekking, hiking, rambling...call it what you will.
I sold my car and started walking everywhere. Combined with the nature of the physical job I was in at the time, working a nightshift which messed up my metabolism, and packing in the booze for the while, the weight just dropped off.
Inside of three months I'd lost two stone and at my lowest weight I only scaled nine-and-half stone ~ I was all sinewy, lean and toned, and I even had a six-pack for a while! Lol.
I had tried to resurrect and re-live my footballing days, but alas the accumilative injuries had taken their toll.
Any sustained pressure or impact on my joints made my body ache for weeks, especially my knees and ankles, so much so that I couldn't even run anymore...yet I could walk all day with no problems whatsoever.
The worst injuries that I'd sustained were two seperate blood clots (one in my right thigh, one in my right calf), a right knee which still can't 'lock-out' due to the effects of a very dubious tackle (it was so bad that one of the opponents studs was actually embedded into my knee-cap!), and worst of all...a severely twisted pelvis.
The impact of the twisted pelvis wasn't initially known, but after repeated and lengthy treatment the full extent of the injury was discovered. The lower back had been put out of place to try to balance the pelvis, then the middle of my spine bent the opposite way to try to counter-balance this damage, and finally the top of my spine also bent in the direction of the lower back to further try to counter-balance the injury. This resulted in my spine taking on an 'S' shape, but fortunately with the help of a great oesteopath my back was eased back into some form of normal appearance.
However, there remains a permanently trapped nerve in the bottom of my back, where the muscle has fused to the bone, but the doctor's advised me to live with the occassional discomfort as they feel it's far too delicate and risky to correct by way of an operation...hence my competitive football days were finished.
But back to the walking...
With the impact of these injuries I was left with the knowledge that extensive walking was definitely my best option of exercise. Whilst in Bristol (Bradley Stoke) I regularly took a three mile circuit around the conservation area where I lived, as well as walking to and from work every day.
Then in Cheltenham I undertook a four mile walk around the city every day first thing in the morning.
When I moved to Berkshire (Crowthorne) I regularly walked in the woods to keep me fit (the same woods which have recently been destroyed by the forest fires I'm afraid to say).
Once I moved back to Bognor I walked along the seafront every day, from West-End car park right along to Elmer, just past Felpham (the picture attached to this blog was taken as the sun was setting one early evening along Bognor Promenade).
Even when I visited New Zealand I purposely trekked and hiked my around the South Island.
Specifically there was the trek along Waterfall Creek and climbing up Mount Iron, both in Wanaka.
Also I spent a day hiking along the Abel Tasman Coastal Track within the Abel Tasman National Park.
And finally, I completed all sections of the Peninsula Walk in Kaikaura.
Now that I'm living in Chichester I walk to and from work every day, and I usually go on at least one ramble over the weekend ~ this takes the form of about three hours continuous walking, which by my reckoning equates to approximately 12 miles. Initially I trekked along the Chichester Ship Canal tow path until it reaches Chichester Marina. At the back of the Marina you can pick up the Salterns Way trail all the way into Fishbourne, before crossing farmland to meet up with Centurion Way which meanders all the way to Lavant and beyond.
You can then either check out the woodland around Brandy Hole Copse, or continue to as far as Binderton, when you can take a public bridal way across the West Dean Estate and hike up the steep hill to the Trundle.
Once you reach this point the views are breathtaking. Behind you is the Goodwood Racecourse, to the east you can view Bognor, directly in front is Chichester, and if you gaze to the west you can clearly see Spinnaker Tower in Portsmouth, which is over twenty miles away.
All of these routes that I've undertaken are very scenic in places and extremely peaceful and tranquil.
I genuinely find that I think better when I'm walking, and believe me I've had plenty to think about recently.
Hopefully the next blog will provide some answers, and it should be able to tie up the two previous series of blogs that I've written ~ 'A Spiritual Journey To Find A Home' and 'Observations of a Single Male'.
Ramblin' Steve
Friday, May 20, 2011
Dilemma: Clip or Bic?
You may well laugh, but one of the toughest dilemma's in my life is whether to try to grow my hair or shave it all off...as indicated in the title, 'Clip or Bic'.
I've been 'follically' challenged since I was twenty years of age, although it hasn't ever really concerned me to be honest. Once you start losing your hair, there's not a lot you can do about it is there?
My dilemma however centres around how to maintain the best look possible...because if you haven't got much to start with, then you've not got many options! Lol.
I must stress however that I'm not that vain, so I would never sport a 'Bobby Charlton' wrap-over, as I'm quite confident my hair couldn't ever grow to that length anyway!
Once my hair started receding at twenty I used to have it cut by clippers once a month, by my mate Daren Terry of Lotus Styling fame (a reputable salon in Bognor) ~ he once clipped my hair leaving the shape of the Olympic rings in the back of my head, which were then coloured accordingly, and we even got a photographer from 'The Sun' to come down and take pictures! I haven't got any newspaper clippings or photo's of this event anymore...I'm sure that I gave them to a friend of mine who's now in Australia.
Whilst I had my hair clipped by Daren I sported a few styles, such as a 'mohican' and a 'flat-top'.
In fact I once stood six-foot tall...as I had a two inch flat-top!
Daren used to use a 'number two' on the majority on my head, with a 'number one' on the sides, but in time this changed to a 'number one' all over with 'bare' clippers used on the side.
This is where the attachments to the clippers are removed, and you just use the bare blades ~ which is what I've always used ever since...whenever clippers were my chosen option that is.
Once I left the comforts of my hometown, I was on my own so had to make a decision: do I find a barber's salon, or do I cut it myself?
At the time in question, professional quality clippers weren't readily available as they are today, so if I was to cut it myself then I would have to stick to the traditional methods of a cut-throat razor!
One night whilst idling away the hours in a hotel where I was staying for a few months through work, I decided to shave my head completely...and I haven't looked back since!
It was extremely difficult to do initially, but it has proved very easy thereafter.
The funny thing was that the following day when I entered work, I was very self-conscious about my shaved head and was very wary of any comments, but nobody noticed or said anything at all...and it wasn't as if they were just being polite, as these particular work colleagues would have ripped me apart if they wanted to.
I've become quite adept in my shaving skills since, and in all the times I've shaved my head using shaving foam and Bic or Wilkinson Sword Twin Blade disposable razor, I can honestly say I've only nicked my head on about three occassions.
Ever since that first time, I've shaved my head every three or four days with a few exceptions.
When I had my 'blackout' in Bournemouth, I was ordered not to shave my head for a while by the medical staff, so as not to affect the hairline fracture to my skull repairing itself.
I've also let my hair grow a bit when I was job-seeking or attending interviews, as I felt it looked less aggressive if there was a little bit of growth on my head.
The only other times that I let it grow a bit are to experiment a little, or for a lady in my life.
It's quite weird sometimes to gauge my friends reactions when I don't shave my head, as ever since I've left my hometown any new friends that I've made have only ever known me bald. So when they see me with a bit of sprouting hair it can tend to spook them a little.
Another funny thing about not shaving my head are the ladies perceptions and reactions.
They all seem to prefer me with hair rather than shaved.
Yet the minute when I get to the stage when I can't stand it anymore as it itches and becomes annoying, so I then decide to shave it all off... they only proceed to comment,
"Ah that's better, the old Steve is back".
Now, maybe you see my dilemma?
I think it's the same with women with regards to always wanting to fatten me up.
I'm happiest being lean and relatively thin, but they all like me with some meat on my bones.
As for the hair, the general consensus is that if I have some growth on my head then it gives me a bit more colour to my face, although I can't see it myself.
But like I always say...never argue with a woman as she's always right, even when she's wrong!
So currently as I write this blog I am in a stage of not shaving my head.
I last shaved it just over a week ago, and it will need 'clipping' soon in places to keep it nicely trimmed.
I also sport a 'goatee' beard which I always keep well trimmed, but this is only to hide a few small scars left over from a bad case of impetigo last year.
Now as I approach my mid-forties the hair is taking on a hint of grey, which does give me a slight distinguished look, even if I say so myself.
For the time being I'll stick with it but don't be suprised if I soon shave it all off again! Lol.
I guess I may open a poll...what do you think: Clip or Bic? Maybe you could let me know?
Until next time, take care x
Ramblin' Steve
I've been 'follically' challenged since I was twenty years of age, although it hasn't ever really concerned me to be honest. Once you start losing your hair, there's not a lot you can do about it is there?
My dilemma however centres around how to maintain the best look possible...because if you haven't got much to start with, then you've not got many options! Lol.
I must stress however that I'm not that vain, so I would never sport a 'Bobby Charlton' wrap-over, as I'm quite confident my hair couldn't ever grow to that length anyway!
Once my hair started receding at twenty I used to have it cut by clippers once a month, by my mate Daren Terry of Lotus Styling fame (a reputable salon in Bognor) ~ he once clipped my hair leaving the shape of the Olympic rings in the back of my head, which were then coloured accordingly, and we even got a photographer from 'The Sun' to come down and take pictures! I haven't got any newspaper clippings or photo's of this event anymore...I'm sure that I gave them to a friend of mine who's now in Australia.
Whilst I had my hair clipped by Daren I sported a few styles, such as a 'mohican' and a 'flat-top'.
In fact I once stood six-foot tall...as I had a two inch flat-top!
Daren used to use a 'number two' on the majority on my head, with a 'number one' on the sides, but in time this changed to a 'number one' all over with 'bare' clippers used on the side.
This is where the attachments to the clippers are removed, and you just use the bare blades ~ which is what I've always used ever since...whenever clippers were my chosen option that is.
Once I left the comforts of my hometown, I was on my own so had to make a decision: do I find a barber's salon, or do I cut it myself?
At the time in question, professional quality clippers weren't readily available as they are today, so if I was to cut it myself then I would have to stick to the traditional methods of a cut-throat razor!
One night whilst idling away the hours in a hotel where I was staying for a few months through work, I decided to shave my head completely...and I haven't looked back since!
It was extremely difficult to do initially, but it has proved very easy thereafter.
The funny thing was that the following day when I entered work, I was very self-conscious about my shaved head and was very wary of any comments, but nobody noticed or said anything at all...and it wasn't as if they were just being polite, as these particular work colleagues would have ripped me apart if they wanted to.
I've become quite adept in my shaving skills since, and in all the times I've shaved my head using shaving foam and Bic or Wilkinson Sword Twin Blade disposable razor, I can honestly say I've only nicked my head on about three occassions.
Ever since that first time, I've shaved my head every three or four days with a few exceptions.
When I had my 'blackout' in Bournemouth, I was ordered not to shave my head for a while by the medical staff, so as not to affect the hairline fracture to my skull repairing itself.
I've also let my hair grow a bit when I was job-seeking or attending interviews, as I felt it looked less aggressive if there was a little bit of growth on my head.
The only other times that I let it grow a bit are to experiment a little, or for a lady in my life.
It's quite weird sometimes to gauge my friends reactions when I don't shave my head, as ever since I've left my hometown any new friends that I've made have only ever known me bald. So when they see me with a bit of sprouting hair it can tend to spook them a little.
Another funny thing about not shaving my head are the ladies perceptions and reactions.
They all seem to prefer me with hair rather than shaved.
Yet the minute when I get to the stage when I can't stand it anymore as it itches and becomes annoying, so I then decide to shave it all off... they only proceed to comment,
"Ah that's better, the old Steve is back".
Now, maybe you see my dilemma?
I think it's the same with women with regards to always wanting to fatten me up.
I'm happiest being lean and relatively thin, but they all like me with some meat on my bones.
As for the hair, the general consensus is that if I have some growth on my head then it gives me a bit more colour to my face, although I can't see it myself.
But like I always say...never argue with a woman as she's always right, even when she's wrong!
So currently as I write this blog I am in a stage of not shaving my head.
I last shaved it just over a week ago, and it will need 'clipping' soon in places to keep it nicely trimmed.
I also sport a 'goatee' beard which I always keep well trimmed, but this is only to hide a few small scars left over from a bad case of impetigo last year.
Now as I approach my mid-forties the hair is taking on a hint of grey, which does give me a slight distinguished look, even if I say so myself.
For the time being I'll stick with it but don't be suprised if I soon shave it all off again! Lol.
I guess I may open a poll...what do you think: Clip or Bic? Maybe you could let me know?
Until next time, take care x
Ramblin' Steve
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Otautahi Tatu
Otautahi is Maori for Christchurch, and it's extremely appropriate to title this latest blog 'Otautahi Tatu' as the subject matter is tattoo's...and this studio in Christchurch, New Zealand was where I had a special tattoo inked in to mark a particular memorable phase of my life.
As I said in my last blog, 'Wrapped Up In Time', I tend to mark the era's in my life in a different way to my niece ~ I don't keep possessions ~ I get tattoo's instead!
This all started back in my early thirties...
Tattoo#1 ~ Celtic Cross
Location:Dublin, Ireland
I had finally severed all ties with an old girlfriend after an extremely turbulent relationship, and to complete this closure I wanted something symbolic to mark the occassion. I had gone through hell, and the stress and strain was at times unbearable. But finally all emotional, financial and legal ties had reached a happy conclusion (for me, anyway!), and I could finally move on with my life.
But to celebrate this landmark event I wanted something to show for it...and a tattoo was the perfect solution. On the spur of the moment whilst holidaying with friends in Ireland, I decided to get 'inked' at a studio in Dublin, and I felt a Celtic Cross was appropriate due to my love of the Irish, and the fact that my great 'paddy' friends had helped me through this difficult phase of my life.
I remember the tattooist made me laugh when he asked me,
"is this your first time?" When I nodded yes, he quickly quipped,
"yeah, me too!"
Tattoo#2 ~ Chinese Symbol (Brave)
Location:Galway, Ireland
I now had the bug as like some people say...getting tattoo's can be very addictive.
Plus I couldn't just have the one could I?...as it would look rather isolated.
My second tattoo was about a year later, again in Ireland, but this time in Galway.
I usually stay with friends whilst in Ireland, but on this occassion I found myself on my own for a few days so I visited the gorgeous Galway on the West Coast.
I remembered a tattooist down a particular street from an earlier visit, so rather instinctively I gravitated there immediately. I've always loved the chinese style of writing and design, so I chose the symbol for 'brave' for it's special meaning to me personally.
During my traumatic time as spoken earlier, there was a specific album by the rock band Marillion called 'Brave' which helped me identify some of the problems I was going through, and deal with some of the issues. The lyrics were especially poignant as they told the story of a would-be suicide girl, and how she got to be where she was, and although the subject matter may seem rather depressing, the album actually finished on an upbeat note with the beautiful track 'Made Again'.
Tattoo#3 ~ Maori Swirl (Phoenix Rising)
Location:Winton (Bournemouth), UK
A few years later whilst I was living and working in Bournemouth, I had a health scare.
I completely 'lost' a day via a blackout...and I assure you that it wasn't alcohol induced! Lol.
After attending Poole General Hospital, I was ordered off work for two weeks and told to rest as I had suffered some form of severely delayed concussion from an earlier accidental blow to the head, which had left me with a hairline fracture to the skull.
During this enforced exile from work, I visited a tattooist in nearby Winton and chose a maori swirl design for my next tattoo, which I felt resembled a phoenix rising from the flames to mark my own resurgence.
I must also say that the tattooist responsible was the most gorgeous girl in Bournemouth, so it was worth getting a tattoo just to be in her company for a few hours! Lol.
Tattoos#4 & #5 ~ New Zealand (both islands)
Location:Christchurch, New Zealand
As previously described on numerous occassions it had always been a dream of mine to visit New Zealand.
So when I finally realised this dream it only seemed right to mark the occassion accordingly.
I called into a local studio whilst I was staying in Christchurch (Otautahi Tatu) and simply asked their advice. I informed them that I wanted something by way of a tribute to New Zealand, and something with a sense of tradition.
They recommended a map of the islands, with the outlines filled in with Maori swirls ~ similar to the picture attached to this blog.
I was extremely pleased with the result, and I even received a seal of approval a few weeks later from a Maori guy when I was up in Paihia on the North Island...he also said that I needed to work on my tan if I wanted to look really authentic! Lol.
Although I don't intend to have any further tattoo's, I shall never say never!
I don't get them done just for the sake of it ~ they are all personal and significant to me, and they are all located on my upper arms so as not to show them off.
I did seriously think about getting a sixth and final tattoo inked in, but I've decided to wait until I can mark another historic or life changing event in my life. Maybe when I'm united with the love of my love, or maybe once I've finally paid off all my debts, or maybe even I'll delay it until my 50th birthday when I hope to re-visit my spiritual home...New Zealand.
Time will tell, I guess?
Ramblin' Steve
As I said in my last blog, 'Wrapped Up In Time', I tend to mark the era's in my life in a different way to my niece ~ I don't keep possessions ~ I get tattoo's instead!
This all started back in my early thirties...
Tattoo#1 ~ Celtic Cross
Location:Dublin, Ireland
I had finally severed all ties with an old girlfriend after an extremely turbulent relationship, and to complete this closure I wanted something symbolic to mark the occassion. I had gone through hell, and the stress and strain was at times unbearable. But finally all emotional, financial and legal ties had reached a happy conclusion (for me, anyway!), and I could finally move on with my life.
But to celebrate this landmark event I wanted something to show for it...and a tattoo was the perfect solution. On the spur of the moment whilst holidaying with friends in Ireland, I decided to get 'inked' at a studio in Dublin, and I felt a Celtic Cross was appropriate due to my love of the Irish, and the fact that my great 'paddy' friends had helped me through this difficult phase of my life.
I remember the tattooist made me laugh when he asked me,
"is this your first time?" When I nodded yes, he quickly quipped,
"yeah, me too!"
Tattoo#2 ~ Chinese Symbol (Brave)
Location:Galway, Ireland
I now had the bug as like some people say...getting tattoo's can be very addictive.
Plus I couldn't just have the one could I?...as it would look rather isolated.
My second tattoo was about a year later, again in Ireland, but this time in Galway.
I usually stay with friends whilst in Ireland, but on this occassion I found myself on my own for a few days so I visited the gorgeous Galway on the West Coast.
I remembered a tattooist down a particular street from an earlier visit, so rather instinctively I gravitated there immediately. I've always loved the chinese style of writing and design, so I chose the symbol for 'brave' for it's special meaning to me personally.
During my traumatic time as spoken earlier, there was a specific album by the rock band Marillion called 'Brave' which helped me identify some of the problems I was going through, and deal with some of the issues. The lyrics were especially poignant as they told the story of a would-be suicide girl, and how she got to be where she was, and although the subject matter may seem rather depressing, the album actually finished on an upbeat note with the beautiful track 'Made Again'.
Tattoo#3 ~ Maori Swirl (Phoenix Rising)
Location:Winton (Bournemouth), UK
A few years later whilst I was living and working in Bournemouth, I had a health scare.
I completely 'lost' a day via a blackout...and I assure you that it wasn't alcohol induced! Lol.
After attending Poole General Hospital, I was ordered off work for two weeks and told to rest as I had suffered some form of severely delayed concussion from an earlier accidental blow to the head, which had left me with a hairline fracture to the skull.
During this enforced exile from work, I visited a tattooist in nearby Winton and chose a maori swirl design for my next tattoo, which I felt resembled a phoenix rising from the flames to mark my own resurgence.
I must also say that the tattooist responsible was the most gorgeous girl in Bournemouth, so it was worth getting a tattoo just to be in her company for a few hours! Lol.
Tattoos#4 & #5 ~ New Zealand (both islands)
Location:Christchurch, New Zealand
As previously described on numerous occassions it had always been a dream of mine to visit New Zealand.
So when I finally realised this dream it only seemed right to mark the occassion accordingly.
I called into a local studio whilst I was staying in Christchurch (Otautahi Tatu) and simply asked their advice. I informed them that I wanted something by way of a tribute to New Zealand, and something with a sense of tradition.
They recommended a map of the islands, with the outlines filled in with Maori swirls ~ similar to the picture attached to this blog.
I was extremely pleased with the result, and I even received a seal of approval a few weeks later from a Maori guy when I was up in Paihia on the North Island...he also said that I needed to work on my tan if I wanted to look really authentic! Lol.
Although I don't intend to have any further tattoo's, I shall never say never!
I don't get them done just for the sake of it ~ they are all personal and significant to me, and they are all located on my upper arms so as not to show them off.
I did seriously think about getting a sixth and final tattoo inked in, but I've decided to wait until I can mark another historic or life changing event in my life. Maybe when I'm united with the love of my love, or maybe once I've finally paid off all my debts, or maybe even I'll delay it until my 50th birthday when I hope to re-visit my spiritual home...New Zealand.
Time will tell, I guess?
Ramblin' Steve
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Wrapped Up In Time
"Things come wrapped up in time, like the past in a present, or the perfect line in a song.
They take their time, and when they're gone, they take their time with them..."
I recently went out for a lovely Thai meal with my sister and her daughter, and my niece got onto the subject of the different era's in our lives.
She spoke about dividing all of the different phases of her life into era's and asked me if I'd done the same.
Whereas she had clearly defined parts of her life, I felt that mine were more a case of a muddled collection of events which just merged into one another, or had naturally evolved.
When I thought about it a bit more deeply though, I reckoned my life so far could be defined into three general era's, which is pretty loosely described as follows:
Era#1 - Life & Work in West Sussex up until I moved away when I was 29.
Era#2 - My adventures, Travels & Nomadic Days from 30 - 42.
Era#3 - My current and ongoing existence as I try to make some plans & lay down some roots?
I actually think that I mark certain events and nostalgic moments down in other ways ~ which I shall discuss next time ~ and I do this by way of a permanent reminder.
My first two era's have been discussed already within my previous blog, 'A Spiritual Journey To Find A Home', which can be found using the attached link: http://aspiritualjourneytofindahome.blogspot.com/
I don't tend to compartmentalise my life if I can help it, as in a similar vein to the theme to this previous blog, I feel that my life is one long continual journey.
Part of how my niece constructed her era's was by unpacking all of her possessions once she had returned to the UK after living for three years in Japan, and by going through old photographs, and relating these items to different parts of her life in a rather nostalgic way. As I've already discussed in 'Mr Minimalistic's Inventory', I an unable to do this as I haven't had the luxury or ability to accumilate belongings, and this due to the nature of my existence in Era#2.
As for Era#3...well, I try to live in the present and not dwell on the past, although obviously I do have some very fond memories, and I also have one eye on the future too.
In six months time I hope that events will conspire to realise another one of my dreams, but in the meantime I know it's important not to waste time and concentrate in living in the 'now'.
Some people say you should stop and smell the roses, but I prefer you should stop and smell the coffee!
Now, where's my Costa latte? Lol.
Ramblin' Steve
They take their time, and when they're gone, they take their time with them..."
I recently went out for a lovely Thai meal with my sister and her daughter, and my niece got onto the subject of the different era's in our lives.
She spoke about dividing all of the different phases of her life into era's and asked me if I'd done the same.
Whereas she had clearly defined parts of her life, I felt that mine were more a case of a muddled collection of events which just merged into one another, or had naturally evolved.
When I thought about it a bit more deeply though, I reckoned my life so far could be defined into three general era's, which is pretty loosely described as follows:
Era#1 - Life & Work in West Sussex up until I moved away when I was 29.
Era#2 - My adventures, Travels & Nomadic Days from 30 - 42.
Era#3 - My current and ongoing existence as I try to make some plans & lay down some roots?
I actually think that I mark certain events and nostalgic moments down in other ways ~ which I shall discuss next time ~ and I do this by way of a permanent reminder.
My first two era's have been discussed already within my previous blog, 'A Spiritual Journey To Find A Home', which can be found using the attached link: http://aspiritualjourneytofindahome.blogspot.com/
I don't tend to compartmentalise my life if I can help it, as in a similar vein to the theme to this previous blog, I feel that my life is one long continual journey.
Part of how my niece constructed her era's was by unpacking all of her possessions once she had returned to the UK after living for three years in Japan, and by going through old photographs, and relating these items to different parts of her life in a rather nostalgic way. As I've already discussed in 'Mr Minimalistic's Inventory', I an unable to do this as I haven't had the luxury or ability to accumilate belongings, and this due to the nature of my existence in Era#2.
As for Era#3...well, I try to live in the present and not dwell on the past, although obviously I do have some very fond memories, and I also have one eye on the future too.
In six months time I hope that events will conspire to realise another one of my dreams, but in the meantime I know it's important not to waste time and concentrate in living in the 'now'.
Some people say you should stop and smell the roses, but I prefer you should stop and smell the coffee!
Now, where's my Costa latte? Lol.
Ramblin' Steve
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Embracing The Fear!
I recently became aware of a competition via facebook which brought back some wonderful memories and a fantastic once-in-a-lifetime opportunity which I took advantage of a few years ago.
'Embrace The Fear' is the slogon used by a skydiving company (NZONE) in New Zealand, who operate out of Queenstown on the south island, and Rotorua in the north.
The plane featured in this picture is the actual one which I jumped out of on 18th November 2008 in the picturesque and beautiful Queenstown...my spiritual home ~ and I possess the certificate to prove it!
They say you should do something every day which scares you...well, falling out of a plane at 15,000 feet is pretty terrifying isn't it? Lol.
The background of this momumental event arises whilst I was holidaying in NZ, which in itself was one dream realised, but I also always fancied completing a skydive too.
I was in a hotel in Christchurch when I discovered a brochure at reception from a company called 'NZone - The Ultimate Jump'. I immediately went on-line and on the spur of the moment booked a flight and dive at 9,000 feet for the following day.
On my arrival at the shop in Queenstown where you pay for your skydive and go through all the neccesary paperwork, I found two Chinese girls who were going to jump at the middle height of 12,000 feet, and a young American lad who had signed up to skydive from the maximum height of 15,000 feet. I had a liitle chat with him and he was extremely nervous. When I went to pay for my jump, I was asked if I fancied upgrading to a higher height. I took one look at the American and decided to offer him some support, so I amended my jump to the maximum height...and I'm so glad that I did.
When I agreed to move up to this higher height, I had to sign a waver on medical grounds. I swear this was the only time that I felt slight concern. Apparantly, once you go above 13,000 feet you rise sharply to the next drop zone, which may result in the need of oxygen! Fortunately, this wasn't required and I was able to enjoy the entire flight and jump unaided, other than being attached to my instructor of course.
Once the neccesary forms were signed, next of kin not withstanding, we were transported by mini-bus to a private airfield just outside Queenstown on the main highway near Kingston. On arrival at the airfield we were informed of our drop times and called in to receive the appropriate training 15 minutes before we were due to go up.
As this point I thought I'd be feeling nervous but suprisingly I wasn't. I especially thought that the flight itself would be when the terror set in, but amazingly this was unbelievably enjoyable too!
The views as we rose above the mountains and lakes were spectacular.
I was sat with my backside on the floor at the back of the plane, as I was the last to jump, and once the Chinese girls had jumped out at 12,000 feet, it only left me and the American Lad. I was then advised to sit on my instructors lap whilst he strapped us and harnessed us together, and once the American lad had parted us with his company I was on my own with my instructor. I shuffled on my bum across to the open side door of the plane and gently eased myself over the edge.
OMG!
The rush was instant. All the weight of the wind pressing against your face caused me to temporarily forget my instructions, but I soon remembered. Initially you're supposed to arch your back until your instructor taps you on the shoulder, then it's a case of arms and legs outstretched and enjoy the ride!
You travel at 200km/per hour for the first 10,000 feet which lasts for about 1 minute.
During this freefall as you hurl towards the ground at such speed, you really have no sense of depth because you are so far up in the air.
Once we passed through some clouds the spectacular Queenstown scenery was evident.
We witnessed the numerous surrounding mountains including the majestic Coronet Peak, and overlooked the magnificent Lake Wakatipu, and then suddenly my instructor pulled the parachute cord and we seemed to be fly back upwards. I was then allowed to guide us down until the final few hundred feet when my instructor took over to make sure we landed where we were supposed to.
We gently touched down and a feeling of euphoria took over. I embraced my instructor, Howard, and thanked him for guiding me safely down to earth, unhooked my attachments and tried to walk back to the hanger...once I got back my land legs!
It was an unbelievable experience.
A funny thing happened whilst I was awaiting for the minibus back into town.
I was watching some further skydivers completing their jumps when I noticed a rather sad looking guy nearby. I went to speak to him to ask what was wrong. He informed me that he had just completed his final solo skydive, which would determine whether he had attained the neccesary expertise and experience to be classed as a qualified skydiver. Unfortunately, although he had landed safely...he had actually landed in the wrong field!
Just as he was telling me this, a skydiver with a hand-held CAM recorder filming another jumper directly after him, came crashing back down and went head first into a telegraph pole. He got up immediately, although he was obviously a little shaken and embarrassed, and we both start laughing before I said,
"Well, at least you didn't do that!".
Sometimes people ask me would I do it again and I always say no.
Not because I'm scared to do it again, but I'll be afraid that the experience wouldn't be as exhilarating as my virgin skydive, plus I honestly couldn't believe that I could repeat a jump over such wonderful scenery.
If an opportunity ever came my way however, like maybe a sponsored charity skydive, then I wouldn't hesitate to volunteer though.
But if you ever get the chance to jump out of a plane, preferably with a parachute attached, then go for it.
The thrill and buzz is amazing. To pass through the clouds as you head back down to earth is an exhilerating experience, and it's the biggest rush that I have so far enjoyed.
Like I say the concept of height becomes insignificant, because you are so high...literally! Lol.
Ramblin' Steve
'Embrace The Fear' is the slogon used by a skydiving company (NZONE) in New Zealand, who operate out of Queenstown on the south island, and Rotorua in the north.
The plane featured in this picture is the actual one which I jumped out of on 18th November 2008 in the picturesque and beautiful Queenstown...my spiritual home ~ and I possess the certificate to prove it!
They say you should do something every day which scares you...well, falling out of a plane at 15,000 feet is pretty terrifying isn't it? Lol.
The background of this momumental event arises whilst I was holidaying in NZ, which in itself was one dream realised, but I also always fancied completing a skydive too.
I was in a hotel in Christchurch when I discovered a brochure at reception from a company called 'NZone - The Ultimate Jump'. I immediately went on-line and on the spur of the moment booked a flight and dive at 9,000 feet for the following day.
On my arrival at the shop in Queenstown where you pay for your skydive and go through all the neccesary paperwork, I found two Chinese girls who were going to jump at the middle height of 12,000 feet, and a young American lad who had signed up to skydive from the maximum height of 15,000 feet. I had a liitle chat with him and he was extremely nervous. When I went to pay for my jump, I was asked if I fancied upgrading to a higher height. I took one look at the American and decided to offer him some support, so I amended my jump to the maximum height...and I'm so glad that I did.
When I agreed to move up to this higher height, I had to sign a waver on medical grounds. I swear this was the only time that I felt slight concern. Apparantly, once you go above 13,000 feet you rise sharply to the next drop zone, which may result in the need of oxygen! Fortunately, this wasn't required and I was able to enjoy the entire flight and jump unaided, other than being attached to my instructor of course.
Once the neccesary forms were signed, next of kin not withstanding, we were transported by mini-bus to a private airfield just outside Queenstown on the main highway near Kingston. On arrival at the airfield we were informed of our drop times and called in to receive the appropriate training 15 minutes before we were due to go up.
As this point I thought I'd be feeling nervous but suprisingly I wasn't. I especially thought that the flight itself would be when the terror set in, but amazingly this was unbelievably enjoyable too!
The views as we rose above the mountains and lakes were spectacular.
I was sat with my backside on the floor at the back of the plane, as I was the last to jump, and once the Chinese girls had jumped out at 12,000 feet, it only left me and the American Lad. I was then advised to sit on my instructors lap whilst he strapped us and harnessed us together, and once the American lad had parted us with his company I was on my own with my instructor. I shuffled on my bum across to the open side door of the plane and gently eased myself over the edge.
OMG!
The rush was instant. All the weight of the wind pressing against your face caused me to temporarily forget my instructions, but I soon remembered. Initially you're supposed to arch your back until your instructor taps you on the shoulder, then it's a case of arms and legs outstretched and enjoy the ride!
You travel at 200km/per hour for the first 10,000 feet which lasts for about 1 minute.
During this freefall as you hurl towards the ground at such speed, you really have no sense of depth because you are so far up in the air.
Once we passed through some clouds the spectacular Queenstown scenery was evident.
We witnessed the numerous surrounding mountains including the majestic Coronet Peak, and overlooked the magnificent Lake Wakatipu, and then suddenly my instructor pulled the parachute cord and we seemed to be fly back upwards. I was then allowed to guide us down until the final few hundred feet when my instructor took over to make sure we landed where we were supposed to.
We gently touched down and a feeling of euphoria took over. I embraced my instructor, Howard, and thanked him for guiding me safely down to earth, unhooked my attachments and tried to walk back to the hanger...once I got back my land legs!
It was an unbelievable experience.
A funny thing happened whilst I was awaiting for the minibus back into town.
I was watching some further skydivers completing their jumps when I noticed a rather sad looking guy nearby. I went to speak to him to ask what was wrong. He informed me that he had just completed his final solo skydive, which would determine whether he had attained the neccesary expertise and experience to be classed as a qualified skydiver. Unfortunately, although he had landed safely...he had actually landed in the wrong field!
Just as he was telling me this, a skydiver with a hand-held CAM recorder filming another jumper directly after him, came crashing back down and went head first into a telegraph pole. He got up immediately, although he was obviously a little shaken and embarrassed, and we both start laughing before I said,
"Well, at least you didn't do that!".
Sometimes people ask me would I do it again and I always say no.
Not because I'm scared to do it again, but I'll be afraid that the experience wouldn't be as exhilarating as my virgin skydive, plus I honestly couldn't believe that I could repeat a jump over such wonderful scenery.
If an opportunity ever came my way however, like maybe a sponsored charity skydive, then I wouldn't hesitate to volunteer though.
But if you ever get the chance to jump out of a plane, preferably with a parachute attached, then go for it.
The thrill and buzz is amazing. To pass through the clouds as you head back down to earth is an exhilerating experience, and it's the biggest rush that I have so far enjoyed.
Like I say the concept of height becomes insignificant, because you are so high...literally! Lol.
Ramblin' Steve
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Logistical Nightmare!
My good mate Mark Crew, aka 'Mr C', or more commonly known as 'Crewy' recently contacted me to say he enjoyed my blogs but why wasn't he featured anywhere...
Well Crewy, if I informed everyone of what we got up to at TNT, then you'd be in a lot of trouble! Lol.
I'll return to our logistical partnership in a little while.
Firstly, I'd just like to briefly pass comment on a legend and a tyrant who have both recently passed away.
Sir Henry Cooper was a legend and a true gentleman.
He fought back in the day when heavyweights only weighed in around 13st, but were always a credit to boxing. He was a proud Englishman, who told it how it was, and was a very dignified man.
I had the pleasure of meeting him once, ans what struck me was how approachable he was and how friendly he was towards everyone ~ Sir Henry R.I.P.
The tyrant of course refers to Bin Laden.
Now I'm not an expert on politics, war or religion, but I would say the celebrations may be a bit overboard... excuse the pun (that is if he really was buried at sea?).
All I will say is that I think about the famous Chinese saying..."be careful of what you wish for".
No doubt now that he is dead there will be some form of retaliational action, so please be careful.
My good friends in Ireland are shortly going to be receiving visits from the American President and also the Queen, so I just wish that these historic events pass off peacefully.
Now back to Crewy and TNT.
We enjoyed a good craic whenever we could, and made the most of any sweet little victorie's that came our way. Unfortunately, the internal politics and BS that we were regularly confronted with made my position untenable in the end.
But I do still miss three things about TNT:
1. Without meaning to sound like a mercenary, I miss the money (thanks again Lucy).
I was only a glorifed mail-sorter after all, but my wages were unbelievable throughout 2007 and 2008.
2. I miss Lucy herself. After working all night with a bunch of in-bred, ugly, weirdo drivers, it was lovely to see a sweet smile on a pretty face when she arrived in for work in the morning.
3. Finally I miss my mate Crewy...I miss the banter, the McChuckles, the telepathic looks when The Drifters came on the radio, the 'stinger' victims, the industrial language, the aforementioned drivers such as 'Crocodile Dundee', and all of the 'another night in paradise' quips.
So cheers Crewy - please remember two facts which will always be true, and have proved correct over all of these years; if you always tell the truth then they can't have a go at you; and everybody gets their just desserts in the end...just ask Randall ~ Lol.
Take it steady mate.
Ramblin' Steve
Well Crewy, if I informed everyone of what we got up to at TNT, then you'd be in a lot of trouble! Lol.
I'll return to our logistical partnership in a little while.
Firstly, I'd just like to briefly pass comment on a legend and a tyrant who have both recently passed away.
Sir Henry Cooper was a legend and a true gentleman.
He fought back in the day when heavyweights only weighed in around 13st, but were always a credit to boxing. He was a proud Englishman, who told it how it was, and was a very dignified man.
I had the pleasure of meeting him once, ans what struck me was how approachable he was and how friendly he was towards everyone ~ Sir Henry R.I.P.
The tyrant of course refers to Bin Laden.
Now I'm not an expert on politics, war or religion, but I would say the celebrations may be a bit overboard... excuse the pun (that is if he really was buried at sea?).
All I will say is that I think about the famous Chinese saying..."be careful of what you wish for".
No doubt now that he is dead there will be some form of retaliational action, so please be careful.
My good friends in Ireland are shortly going to be receiving visits from the American President and also the Queen, so I just wish that these historic events pass off peacefully.
Now back to Crewy and TNT.
We enjoyed a good craic whenever we could, and made the most of any sweet little victorie's that came our way. Unfortunately, the internal politics and BS that we were regularly confronted with made my position untenable in the end.
But I do still miss three things about TNT:
1. Without meaning to sound like a mercenary, I miss the money (thanks again Lucy).
I was only a glorifed mail-sorter after all, but my wages were unbelievable throughout 2007 and 2008.
2. I miss Lucy herself. After working all night with a bunch of in-bred, ugly, weirdo drivers, it was lovely to see a sweet smile on a pretty face when she arrived in for work in the morning.
3. Finally I miss my mate Crewy...I miss the banter, the McChuckles, the telepathic looks when The Drifters came on the radio, the 'stinger' victims, the industrial language, the aforementioned drivers such as 'Crocodile Dundee', and all of the 'another night in paradise' quips.
So cheers Crewy - please remember two facts which will always be true, and have proved correct over all of these years; if you always tell the truth then they can't have a go at you; and everybody gets their just desserts in the end...just ask Randall ~ Lol.
Take it steady mate.
Ramblin' Steve
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