Mantastic

The blond couple walk into to the chicken bar. They look out of place in a fast food restaurant like this. They'd be more suited in the harley or some other late night bar. She's like
'What's the healthy option?' Yeah right thinks Danny, sitting in the corner. You're in the right place for that.

'Remember the other night when we didn't use anything? I had to use my own protection.' She smiles at him like she's being clever. She looks over at Danny as he turns to look at the pictures of beef burgers above the calm looking kosovan taking orders.

She walks closer to Danny, her eyes alight with intrigue.
'What? Why are you like this? That's if you don't mind me asking.' Danny peers up from his burger and chips. His boot polish eye brows and beard unmissable in the light from the sixty watt bare bulb hanging overhead.

'It doesn't matter if he does mind' says the macho man nonchalantly. 'We'll just knock him out.' Danny casts a calm eye over the couple.
'You can try.' This guy thinks he's alpha.
'I don't know, she's pretty strong' he continues, taking the focus from himself to his girlfriend. Danny's looks up, honesty in his eyes. He says
'It's okay, I don't mind hitting a woman.'

For a moment the alcohol in my system causes me to forget that I'm joking and this is all a game.
'If you must know' I turn to the woman. 'I'm George Michael.' I lift the gold Elvis glasses from my pocket and slip them over my eyes. She gets giddy, her hands coming into a praying position, hopping on the spot. She laughs,
'I knew it.' I'm nodding, turning back to the half eaten burger.




When you're a white guy at an oriental night in a busy night club people notice you. When you're a white guy dressed up as George Michael people stop and stare. You've just got to go with it. Foo points something out.
'But George Michael isn't scary.' I laugh.
'He scares the shit out of me.'

By the time David and I decide to drink fosters lager through black drinking straws girls are taking my shirt off. I don't mind, hey I've been working out all day. At least I can show off my tattoos. The whole vicinity stares in my direction. Guys are asking me why I'm showing off, standing without a shirt. I find this hilarious. I've got my right hand over my belly and I'm leaning over cracking up with laughter.



'Oh my god, are they real?' Jovi asks me, rubbing my tattoos with her index finger. A guy says
'I thought they were stuck on.' I'm laughing my head off.
I'm posing for one person after another. This'll make a nice facebook surprise. The night club is getting busy. Dracula is walking past me as I make jokes with David the white haired skeleton. It's the night before Halloween but we don't care. This party's going to go down with a bang.

I'm waving my arms around on the dance floor, my fear of dancing in public dwindling away as the minutes pass. Ken dances up to me, his ginger wig flailing around on his head. He starts to point at me like he's a rapper. He shouts
'Yeah man.' He grabs my medallion and reads aloud. 'Who's your daddy?'
'George Michael's your daddy baby, he's yo' pappy!' Don't stop me now, it gets sillier.

As I walk around the place all eyes are on me. Random people are stopping me. Everyone wants a picture with George Michael. People give me nervous looks as I walk into the men's room. After some very random chit chat about fancying guys Ken says
'Nice peeing with you' and I'm like
'Always.'

I walk to the bar and I just nod. They know what I'm having straight away. You've got to have faith I tell myself as I get deeper into character. We do the whole outfit swapping thing on the dance floor. I've got fluffy bunny ears and the ginger wig. It's an interesting contrast. I'm dancing alone while everyone else flits to the bar. I don't care. I feel like a star.



My dancing looks like an amalgamation between Bruce Lee and Eminem. I try some fancy footwork and tell myself I could have any woman in this place. All the guys like me too. There's one for your self esteem.

I'm kissing all the girls in our circle on the cheek and shaking the guys hands. I walk out of the dark room with my head held high. I must be so drunk now. I pass the bouncer and he says
'You coming back or is that you for the night?'
'I'm going home now, thanks' I say as he hands me a leaflet. I glance down at the white paper. Takeaway. What a great idea. I'll go to the chicken bar.

The Old Me

I feel clean and it's not just my skin. I appreciate the chilly wind blowing at my face. I just walked out of the gym. I feel great.

I enjoy a cup of coffee and I think back. I used to drink about twenty cups of coffee a day and smoke thirty cigarettes a day on average. It’s no wonder I was constantly wired. I'd bounce off the walls like a hyperactive ferret.

Because I drank so much coffee and consumed so much alcohol anxiety was a large issue in my life. The bus seemed a scary place, as did any public realm.

I'd walk past people. My heart would pound against my chest like it wanted to explode and leave me looking like I'd swallowed a hand grenade. At times I swore people would be able to see it. I pictured them walking up and saying
'Wow, look at your heart beating man, that's crazy.'

I'd be too nice to people. If someone was aggressive I'd end up trying to deflate the situation with calm passivity. If I met my old self now I wouldn't respect him. I think I'd really dislike him. He's false I'd think to myself, judging him by his shallow manner.

There's one thing that I know. All the trauma and the drama I've been through has made me who I am today. I'm stronger than ever. I don't want to hold grudges or try to change the past. I'll stand tall and admit the truth. Yes I made mistakes but without all the negativity I wouldn't be the person I am today. I wouldn't be the man I see staring back from my bathroom mirror every morning.

An Active Saturday - All We Need Is One Ball And The Rooftops

I jumped from the roof to the wall and from the wall to the floor. I looked over my shoulder and the football was flying towards my head. I screamed out, fear gripping me. The ball bounced off my back as I tried to duck it. Shit, I'm on.

Will and AJ run the other direction. AJ was my team mate but now him and Will will work against me. They run off but I walk. I’ll get them another way. I tip toe around the whole area, using the path. They'll be working as a team no doubt so I'll have to get close. Kids walk by with their parents and cars drive past. They see this muscular guy with tattoos tip toeing around this bush carrying a football.

I move with the grace of a ninja, tip toeing silently. I poke my head round walls like double oh seven. I see them, their pale white skin no camouflage against the green and yellow autumn leaves. I get close and charge at them, screaming like I was in brave heart. They see me and turn on their heals. It’s too late.

I chase them round a corner and I throw the ball. It hits Will hard on the back of his leg. AJ and I glance at each other
'Run' I scream to AJ, now becoming his partner. I climb up on a high roof and AJ comes round the corner to follow. I see the ball bounce up onto the roof with Will following menacingly.
'Where are you gunner go from here?' I look down, the drop is huge. AJ jumps. I watch his skinny leg take the pressure and he rolls to spread the shock.

Fuck jumping that height I think. Will gets close and I get ready to catch the ball. I'll throw it right back at him. Will being smart, throws the ball at me. It bounces of my leg and off the roof.
'Shit' I shout and Will runs off in the opposite direction, jumping from the roof to the top of a staircase and out of sight. I climb down and get the ball.

Benjamin joins us and takes off his shirt. We change the rules. This game doesn't involve a football. I count to fifty as AJ, Will and Ben disappear. They run to their hiding places topless. I have a shirt on. It takes me a while but I manage to catch Will. He slips his T-shirt over his head, now we're two predators. AJ's the next to come under scrutiny. Now it's three guys in T shirts hunting down a topless Benjamin.

We take different routes. I creep behind a bush and watch Ben carefully lying down behind a wall on a roof in front of me. I walk out, pretending not to see him.
'Will, have you seen Ben?' My acting must be crap because Ben stands up. Checkmate my little friend. The roof doesn’t go anywhere. He has to jump past me to escape. I pace left and right as he does. Will comes to my left and AJ comes to the right. Games over little buddy. He jumps but I tag him. Nice try.


We climb one staircase then another. We drop our bags, knowing if we get caught it's lights out, arrested. It takes me several attempts to run up the wall but finally I'm there. I'm on the roof looking down on the moor. Everything is tiny from way up here.

We run along the roofs, doing jumps and looking over the edge.
'It's such a liberating experience being this high' I admit, my legs shaky from the vertigo teasing my brain.

We climb up another level until we're the highest point I can see. I look over the illuminated city, lamp posts scattered over the landscape like Christmas fairy lights.
'This view is so beautiful, look at it' I shout. I stand on the edge like I'm ready to jump. I steady myself. I want to stick to the floor like my feet are magnets.

Only us traceurs can get this high up, the cold crisp air in our faces. Facing dangers and risking our lives we move around on this high peak. After this day everything's going to seem boring.

An Active Friday - The Romantic Night Air

I sit in my armchair reading a book about Roald Dahl. As a child this man was my favourite author. I get a text telling me they're here. I place my book still open on my settee. I grab my hoodie and walk out of my front door holding my keys.

I greet Leanne, Rachel and a guy I've never met before.
'Alright mate; I'm Danny, what's your name?'
'Ackey, or Jules.' I grin at his bright yellow spiky hair and combat jacket. I kiss Leanne on the cheek as I get into the back seat. Ackey smokes a fag outside the car. Rachel keeps the engine running.

Ackey's giving Rachel directions but it comes to our attention that he's been taking us to the wrong direction for fifteen minutes. Leanne sifts through the collection of CDs from the glove compartment. She picks out Bon Jovi. We're driving into Derbyshire listening to Bon Jovi's Saturday Night. Rachel and leanne sing along. I stare up at the sky from the passenger side window. The clouds are thick and fierce. A mist descends over and around the trees and fields.

Leanne passes me a pint of Guinness. Ackey bellows out
'Got any good beer?' I burst out laughing.
'You got any good beer, genius.' The four of us walk to a seat and Ackey tells me he's learning to speak German. When I ask him why he doesn't mince his words.
'I wanner shag German birds.' It's at this moment I realise I'm going to like this guy.

Ackey becomes the centre of attention. Leanne and Rachel seem shocked by what he's saying but he carries on unfazed. He tells us about the dating agency he's a member of and how he flies to Germany to shag birds.
'I'm gunner take you home, sit you in my corner and ask you questions' I tell him. He starts this tirade about an ex girlfriend who threatened to kill his dog.

As Ackey's stories deviate from sex to cars then back to shagging birds I sit there mesmerised. I need this guy for story ideas. Leanne's mouthing
'Sorry' to me and I'm like
'This is by far the most bizarre conversation I've ever had.' I laugh at all the things he's coming out with as the girls criticise his one track mind. We finish our drinks and stand up to leave. Leanne's like
'I'm really sorry about him.' I tell her
'I think he's really interesting, I'm not even joking.'

'Go on a walk you two' Rachel demands. Leanne’s like
'Well what are you gunner do? Sit in the car?' I'm laughing my head off and Leanne’s chuckling away.
'No, we'll sit in the car and wait, go on.'
'Go for a drive or summert man' pleads Leanne. Rachel insists she'll be fine so I take Leanne's hand and we start walking.

I follow Leanne over a wire fence and we're on the rocks. We tip toe from one rock to another, the ice cold wind blowing in my eyes. We draw close to the water. The sound of water hitting rock grabs my attention. We walk closer to the edge, wobbling on the uneven rocks like drunken people.

Leanne chooses a big rock close to the water and sits down. I sit beside her, putting my arm around her and edging my body closer to hers. We watch the water crash against the rocks. We look at each other and then we kiss. Our lips attune to one rhythm, our fingers touch and we pull away smiling and tilting our heads down.

We're talking about what it feels like to feel passionate about something in your life. Leanne's sings out
'Look up at the moon'. I look up and I'm like
'Wow, that's really bright.' She tells me
'You know the moon is three times closer to the earth tonight than it'll ever be?'
'Really? I can tell, or can I? I don't know, it looks so bright out here without any light pollution, look at that orange glow coming over the hill, that's just a few lampposts but because there's no light pollution it's really bright.'

We discuss how beautiful the water sounds lapping onto the rocks. The hills look so mysterious. The mist is thicker in parts so each hill is a different shade.
'I like how you could be anywhere in the world, like if someone dropped you here you wouldn’t be like hey this is Britain, it could be anywhere'
'It can be' she says, excitedly.
'Yeah it can.' I feel like inventing a plot based around this place right now.

We walk hand in hand over the rocks towards the wire fence. We laugh and find our confidence holding hands for support. We walk along the roadside staring at the water.
'Imagine jumping in from the bridge like a stunt man' I suggest.
'You couldn't land like a stunt man, you'd hit it like concrete'
'What so you'd dive in arms forwards?' She's like
'No I'd jump in like this,' she leans forwards and points her fingers out.
'Yeah that's what I mean, a real dive, I'd dive-bomb it.' She asks me what a dive bomb is. 'It's where you curl up into a ball and hit the water.' She laughs.
'Okay mate, you do that and we'll see who comes up first, I'll be like Danny, Danny, swimming under the water to save you.' I laugh out loud as we approach the bridge.

'Let's go and check it out man' says Leanne. We break into a run onto the bridge. We lean our bodies over the edge and stare into the water.
'It's so black, like thick oil or something.'
'What's that?' she asks, pointing to a walkway beneath us. I don't know what it is. We run over to the sealed off entrance and climb over the fence. We run down to find four large doors. Leanne jumps up on the wall overlooking the water. She straddles it like a horse. I jump up and sit behind her with my arms around her. We're quiet as we watch the waves.
'That's win hill, I've climbed it a dozen times'
'Take me there one day' she says, I tell her I will as I kiss her cheek.

We walk hand in hand back to the car. The road is quiet as we drive back to Sheffield. Rachel isn't happy. She tells us about this guy who's stalking her. He's sending her texts every other minute. I hold Leanne's hand and the music sends me into a lulled state. It’s only when the city lights affect my vision I truly wake up.
'You hungry Rachel?'
'Starving'
'Well shall we get a pizza then?' Leanne suggests. 'What do you think?'
'I can eat' I admit and the decision is made. Rachel parks the car and we step out.

A guy tries talking to Ackey but he gives him the upwards look and the one word answer. The guy, who's obviously from Newcastle, asks me if I'm with him Ackey and why he's so rude. I'm like
'He's just grumpy, he loves his kebab pizzas and he's very protective over them.' I know the real reason behind Ackey's aggressive stare. He’s taking in all this stalker news. He feels angry because Rachel is his friend. He starts getting into that mode where you're ready to hit somebody. You get so blind with rage that it's hard to function outside that feeling.

The Bollywood music plays as rude boys shout at their girlfriends on the ground floor. I hate being out at this time. These drunken people will bounce round like pinballs till eventually they'll collide. When one drunken ego meets another they clash and that's when you get the violent assaults. I'm very cautious about where I step and who's around me as I pass my empty pizza box over the counter. The guy tells me to have a good night. My face must seem really friendly over these angry young faces.

I walk out of the pizza place and join Leanne, Rachel and Ackey. We walk towards Rachel’s car. I kiss Leanne and she says
'I'll have to cook for you, show you my pad.' I agree that it's a great idea and I wave to her as she crosses the road. Rachel kindly agrees to take me home so I get in the car with her and Ackey. I chat to them as we drive to my housing estate. It's the end of a long day and all I want to do is sleep. I get in, plant my keys on the side and get undressed. My head touches the pillow and I'm out, bang.

An Active Friday - The Brown Sash Grading

I wake up to the sound of knocking and jump out of bed like I usually do. I open the door to find a man holding a Littlewoods catalogue. He doesn’t seem to find it weird that my eyes are half open and I'm signing for the catalogue wearing nothing more than my grey boxer shorts. I look into the mirror for the first time today. You look like shit. At least I'm real with myself.

I walk into my writing room and take a seat at my large dining room table. I sharpen the orange HB pencil with my metal pencil sharpener. I cover my eyes with my hands and imagine the scene. My pencil works as if it knows what to write. My hand aching, I write about the scene forming in my imagination.

I click on the folder and highlight the files. Kanye West's new album plays through my Panasonic hi-fi speakers. I dance around the room ironing a shirt and spraying lynx vice over my chest. I pull my ironed jeans over my muscular legs.

I walk into my bathroom. I spread manga hair putty over my palms and rub it into my hair. I style my hair as crazy and manga like as I can. I stare into my eyes, not smiling, not frowning. Manga hair I think, because life's an epic adventure.

I'm at the bus station sticking out my chest. Take your hands out of your pockets. Stand up straight. You have to be real to yourself and other people. People respect people who are real. I jump off the bus and walk past the city centre ambassadors I usually see when I'm training. I don't bother saying hello. We're hardly friends.

I look at the beginning of the queue and my eyes follow the line right back to the coffee shop. There must be a hundred fucking people in this queue. I walk to the back. I ask a pretty brunette
'Are you waiting for that place right down there?' My face is screwed up and I'm pointing to the ticket office.
'Yeah' she says in the sort of tone you use when you're fed up.
'That's crazy' I say, joining the back of the queue. I stare at the words scrolling across the huge information screens. Chesterfield, Chesterfield, Chesterfield. Ah. The brunette keeps looking back and smiling at me. I smile back with a friendly face but she seems nervous and looks away.

I walk onto the train with a shit load of other people. I'm in awe as I stare at the shop. What the fuck? A shop on a train? In all my life I've never seen a shop on board a train. I stare at the attractive blond and read her name tag. Kylie. Iwonder how many jokes she gets about the Australian singer. The blond smiles at me as I meet her eyes and I smile back. We share a moment. I think she likes me. I search the shelves with my eyes. They sell books, snacks, beer. What the fuck? They sell beer on this train. I'm forced to stand in the carriage as more people pile on. Shit, why did I buy a ticket?

At first I think I've gotten off at the wrong stop. I'm facing a park with a few houses scattered around it. Is there another Chesterfield stop? The train pulls out and there it is. It's the site I'd seen so much of as a child. My granddad used to drive us to see the spire and tell us the story behind it. He’d tell us about Mr Hinchcliff, the man who made the spire. He'd made the spire straight but the wood was too wet and warped in shape. Mr Hinchcliff hung himself. The irony of it all is that today the crooked spire is the most prominent feature of this small city.

'How much are your coffees?' The guy, who looks a bit camp and speaks a little fruity, says
'One seventy five and one fifty,' I scoff.
'What's the difference?' He stares me right in the eyes,
'Four fluid ounces,' the middle aged woman who's handing expensive chocolate muffins out says
'Don't be funny Harold.'
'No that's fair enough' I say. I respect him for not insulting my intelligence. I admire an intelligent response.

I sit down and open the novel I'm reading. I sip my coffee and plough through the words, they paint an image in my mind's eye. Even though the author is American the book in my mind is set in my Nan’s old house. My ears prick up. I'm reminded of the ear work out I do everyday, the good hearing ear exercises. I can hear the camp man saying
'He's enjoying his four fluid ounces.' I meet eyes with him and he seems surprised I can hear him. I shake my head and look back down at my book. TI glance back but he's gone.

This is exiting to me. I'm in a city I don't know and I have to ask my way to my destination. I'm walking with my hood up. People might think I'm a thug until they see my smiling face and my upright posture. I slip my grey gloves over my cold fingers and run across a road. I'm eating a packet of revels when I hear footsteps behind me. My right hand tenses like it does when I'm nervous and a familiar voice says
'Hi Dan'
'Hi Sifu, I could feel someone running up on me, it turned out to be you.' Peter begins a story about Chinese society and I nod to show I'm listening. I follow him to the gymnasium.

'This is a massive place, I really didn't expect this,' Peter's like
'Yes it's very well equipped' as we enter the changing rooms. I'm a different man in my baggy trousers and red T-shirt. All the muscles I work hard to make strong can be put to full use now. I never feel quite as active when I'm smartly dressed.

I'm staring into the mirror doing chi gung. I can see people from the gym staring at me through a large window. I ignore them and move on to stretching. I'm seeing people come into the room. I bow to each one. Some people I know from other classes and some are new faces. I introduce myself to everyone I don't know and greet the others.

Sweat's dripping of my body and my face is contorted with determination and pain. I'm doing flips onto my back. I turn to Peter and say
'You know when you said that this floor was soft?' A few people laugh, knowing the point I'm making. 'Was that an aphorism?' Peter laughs but doesn't answer. The exercises get harder by he minute and I push past that initial pain barrier. For the first time in the twenty minutes I've been slogging it out I can breathe easily. Now I'm truly working my body to its full potential.

Finally we're all told to sit around the gym. Here's what I'm here for. There is a father and son going for their brown sash. I'm a humble red sash myself so these guys are my big brothers. The first guy prepares himself and I pull on a black pair of leather fingerless gloves. It's two on one so I'll be one of the attackers.

Peter shouts
'Fight' and the brown sash runs into me with a flurry of punches and low kicks. I'm slapping him on the face to show him that I could hit him. It's meant to be light contact. I'm surprised how hard the guy comes and as I try to kick him in the head he gets me right in the balls. There's that feeling that sweeps up inside you're lower abdominals. It's a burning sensation that makes you want to be sick and curl into a ball. I fight it, hopefully he doesn’t notice.

Three minutes are up and the brown sash lets out a sigh of relief. His face is red. I congratulate him for his efforts and we bow to each other. I sit down and catch my breath. Rich grabbed my leg last night, this guy's kicking me in the groin, I have got to stop kicking high.

The next guy is the son of the father I've just fought. I bow. It's a young kid and me attacking. We move forwards. The defender goes for the young kid. The kid fires a side kick but the defender grabs his leg and takes him down. The kid twists on his way down and unlucky for him he smashes his teeth onto the mats. His face goes red and he's trying to hold tears back.

Peter takes the kid to one side and tells him he's being very brave. I see his face and it reminds me of a ten year old me. I feel like crying for a moment. The embarrassment of crying in front of an adult you respect is bad enough but crying at your kung fu class must seem like the worst case scenario his young mind can imagine. We fight on. I see my opening and kick the defender at his waist. He flies backwards onto the matt and does a backwards roll to get back up. Amplifying the true spirit of kung fu, he says
'That kick was really good.' I'm apologising for kicking too hard.

We finish the class on the forms. I'm reaching out, my stances are deep. Peter tells me I'm doing well. This distracts me for a minute and I start to mess up. We finish the forms and I feel everyone is connecting now. Peter addresses the class as a whole.
'You people grading did really well, I asked Dan to come over so you'd have a test, it's a worthy challenge, anyway let's finish off, thank you very much.' We all bow to Peter, I say
'Thank you very much Sifu' and everyone relaxes.

I bow and say my farewells to the friendly red faces leaving the room. Be humble now Danny, you have done well but never forget to be humble. Men in white karate suits are filling the room as Peter and I bow out and head into the changing rooms.

Peter's telling me about his sister and the pain she's in.
'So you're introducing her to alternate therapies now then?' I ask.
'Yeah, I'm going to get her a massage from Christine.' I think about the tanned woman who's forever motivated at the fitness club in Sheffield. 'We're going for a meal afterwards if you'd like to come; I'll buy you a meal.' I'm overwhelmed with emotion, can today get any better? I figure it's rude to turn down a decent offer so I agree to come. As Peter goes off for a sauna I grab my bag and leave the changing rooms.

I look through the glass at the shotokan karate guys with their solid stances. I nod and walk away. That's not for me; I'll always do kung fu now. There's no going back now I'm into it. I walk out into the darkness. It's a good job I've got a good memory I think as I trace my steps like the outline of a blueprint.

I see my opportunity. The car is going fast but I decide to do it. I pelt across the road with all the speed I can muster. I dive to the other side, feeling the car's lights at my feet. A small black Clio drives slowly by. A guy about my age pokes his head out of the window and shouts
'Look at him running, twat twat twat twat twat twat.' I nod as if they're saying something meaningful. I take my gloves off and roll my sleeves up. I speed up my walking as the black car turns a corner in front of me. Come on, get out of the car.

I avoid eye contact with drunken guys on the train. These idiots are going to the city I live in to drink with a bunch of other idiots. Man I hate drinking culture.

Change Your Heart Danny

They say living well is the best revenge. You break up with a woman and instead of going downhill you make your life better. I find that every time I break up with a woman I improve my life in some way or another. I always come out stronger. I seem to gain more self respect and a better understanding of the world.

Yesterday I was contemplating. How is this the right attitude? I know it's a good philosophy to have but why not have this type of philosophy everyday? So I asked myself what would I do if I'd just broken up with a girlfriend? What type of changes would I be making right now? What is it that I really want to do with my life right now?

Yesterday I became a member of the fitness club. I can go there any time I like and use the gym, the sauna, the studio room and the Jacuzzi. The great thing about this gym is its right in the centre of town. After a hard day's parkour training I can just walk in and use the facilities.

I phoned the University of Sheffield and sent off for a prospectus. Time to set up those writing courses I've been talking about for ages. I changed my living room into a writing room. I'd not been in there for months. I'd walk through to hang my clothes up but that's about it. It's tidy with my large dining room table nicely lit.

On the table there are books, pens and paper arranged where I can see them. By now you should know I don't have an idiot box set up anywhere in my flat. I hate television. My couch faces the plain white wall. It's a relaxing place to think and set my imagination free.

I'm trying to improve my lifestyle. I woke up early today, thoughts of last night's date running through my mind. It was an amazing night, spent in the Hollywood bowl playing arcade games. It was very exiting. Enough about dating, let's get back to the matter in hand.

Today I'll start reading a novel I bought yesterday. I like to read in the bath. I'll have a healthy start to the day: Bran flakes without sugar and fresh orange juice. I'll do some chi gung, tidy my flat then go to the gym before my kung fu class. I'm feeling really exited. I can't wait to invent other ways I can change my life.

Uncle Russell

I lay in my sleeping bag. I always loved the silky soft feel of a sleeping bag. The house was always cold. In some rooms mould crept up the walls. From the ash tray to the electric guitars in the corner, the entire house had character.

I lay in the sleeping bag talking to a spider. It'd made its way across the wall. The door opened and I snapped round to see who it was. It was Gut the cat. She made eye contact through her yellow cat's eyes. Her well fed face turned to the floor before she cried out to me.

I'd wake up and he'd be nestling next to my rib cage. We shared our body heat. I liked having him there. I stroked his black fur as he purred and sat on the burgundy sleeping bag. I let the silence of the house fill my ears like a distant ringing.

I heard the door go and looked around me. I pushed the ash tray, which was full of cigarette buds that had been emptied of tobacco under the settee. I waited to hear my Mum's soft voice. I heard the sound of voices and then light switches being flicked on. The voices turned into muffled mumbling as they moved from the hall into the downstairs rooms.

The door went and I turned my attention away from the Billy The Kid picture that had been framed and hung on the wall. He walked in and said
'All right Daniel?' I'd never felt so proud to hear my own name.
'All right Russell' I said in a high tone. I was still waiting for my voice to break.

He sat down and the leather of his biker boots squeaked. I always noticed his boots. He'd buy them from army surplus shops. His almost skin tight grey jeans looked so cool. He wore them with tears at the knees.

He opened his tobacco tin. My eyes fixated on his rolling abilities. I watched him use one hand. His other hand didn't work to its full potential. He'd had a motorbike accident years ago. I'd watched him cut food with a fork and play pool using his army boot to guide the cue.

'Do you want a fag?' He said it like it wasn't a big deal. I tried not to tense up.
'What about my Mum?' I knew she'd be close. Russell gained cool points every single time I had the pleasure of seeing him. Now was no different.

He licked the rizla paper and pressed the roll up into completion.
'Fuck your mother.' I gaped at him. I'd never felt so respected by a full grown man before. 'Here do you want a filter?' I told him I didn't need one. I put the roll up to my lips with my exited shaking right hand.

He flicked open his Zippo and I could smell the petrol. He flicked the wheel down and a spark ignited the flammable liquid. I sucked smoke into my lungs.
'What have you been doing? Smoking flips from the ash tray?'
'Yeah, I found some rizlas in a box on the shelf.' He opened his pouch of drum and handed me a lump of dark brown tobacco. He passed me his pack of rizlas and I thanked him. I tried to speak as deeply as I could. I wanted him to respect me as a mature person.

I tied my shining doctor martins up from the bottom. My tight black jeans felt comfortable as I stood up to face my CD collection. I picked out my favourite Alice Cooper album. I dropped the CD in my stereo and pressed the door closed. I skipped to track eight. I'd bang my head and sing along.
'Freedom, raise your fist and yell, freedom to walk, freedom to talk.' I'd roll my drum tobacco in my bedroom, drawing pictures of skulls and vipers. I wrote long stories with werewolves and people breaking down into tears. I loved delving into the darkest places I could find in my imagination.


I walk into the cottage. The place is homely. Heather’s influence on Russell's life is a great one. They're the coolest couple I know. I'm kicking off my trainers and shaking my phone in the pocket of my tracksuit bottoms. I'm nervous.

I walk up the stairs and the wood creaks under my feet. I don't know what to expect when I turn this corner. My Nan's following me up. I turn right into the double bedroom. He sees me but his facial expression stays one of relaxed composure.

His face is pale white. He looks fifty years old. His beard is thick and his black hair is greying. His tone of voice is croaky and faint. I swallow what feels like a bubble in my throat.
'All right Daniel' he says.
'All right Russell, how are you doing mate?'
'Oh I'm okay mate.' I can tell he's making an effort to sound enthused.

The bag that empties his bladder needs changing everyday. He's drugged up on morphine. He keeps searching the room with his tired, distant eyes. I know he's the Russell I know and in my heart he's the man I’ll always admire. I try and keep the conversation light. I just want him to get better soon.


I drop my keys and my phone on the table.
'You're looking a lot better' I tell him.
'Thanks Daniel, I feel a lot better.' I tell him its great news. The fear that I'm ignoring is that Russell's at death's door. I'm relieved to see him in the living room.

'I've quit smoking for four months now, I've had to.' I smile at him. I'll never lecture this man on how to live his life. Russell asks me how long I've been a non-smoker.
'Over a year now' I explain. I know I’ll never smoke again. I get the feeling that he feels the same way about his habit.

The big daft Alsatian jumps up on the settee. I look around at the many unique ornaments and pictures around the room. I'm my own man now. I look inside my heart when I need support and guidance. I'll never forget that night when it felt like Russell was the only person who was willing to be on my level.

The Lion, The Switch And The Town Hall

I'm running towards London Road. I turn the corner next to the Chinese community centre. Three guys stare in my direction. The blond one says
'Look at him run.' I hear a car horn. Why is jogging such a fascination to people?

I turn the corner and stamp to a halt. Where's Jimmy? A gold car drives round the corner. So it was Jimmy honking at me. I open the car door and take a seat.
'All right?'

I'm staring out of the window. I spot Little Lion as we pull in to pick him up. We greet each other and Jimmy talks to Little Lion in Chinese. I think back to a conversation me and my Nan were having a week ago.


My Nan was in disbelief.
'You can't say that Daniel, that's like saying that all German people are bad people or that all French people are bad people.' I was like
'No it's not at all, it's like saying that some French people are bad or that some German people are bad. I just don't want to work in manual labour. I want the people I work with to be people who light up my day and make my day better. I'm not ready to surround myself with people I don't like in my social life never mind the workplace.'
'Sounds like you've had a bad experience with manual labour.' I busted out a grin,
'Oh I have.'

We called him Corton. Mr Corton would have been too good for him. Some called him Crater Face or Pizza Face. He was what people call a worm. I have no doubt even to this day that this man was a pitiful individual.

The guys working in that firm shared a common enemy. As Soon as Corton left the steelworks in his van we'd all stop work to mess around and chat.

There were people I hated working with but there were some guys I loved being around. There were the two step brothers, Dean and Jason. They'd started working at Corton's place recently like me. They liked to drink and even admitted smoking crack in their spare time. I didn't care. They were funny guys.

We all hated Corton and that made us close. I ground tar black dust from sheets of metal with a grinder. You couldn't see the white concrete floor for off cuts of metal and black dust.

I looked forward to going to work because some of the guys were really sound. I grew to hate working at that place because of Andrew Corton. Every insulting and cynical word that left his mouth made me hate him more. I'd get to a stage where I'd think about him in my free time. It'd wipe the smile from my face instantly.

The black dust, which was essentially tiny shards of metal got into every feature on my face. By the end of the day every hair follicle was full of black dust. We looked more like coal miners than steel workers. We looked like we had thick mascara on. We'd sit outside and laugh our heads off about what a shit firm Corton's was.

The pay was the only plus side other than a few of the lads. It didn't add up to anything. I had an XBOX at home with ten games but I was always too tired to play. I'd get home from a ten hour shift and all I wanted to do was sleep. Corton would rope me into working weekends. I was growing unhappier with every passing week.

I was a really hard worker and my efficiency improved with every new skill I learned. Corton was never satisfied. I remember a really hard worker. He was Corton's favourite employee. He arrived before anyone else and stayed late everyday. His name was Graham.

Graham was moving a huge sheet metal tube on the overhead crane. Graham pressed the red button and the huge work of steel moved over pieces of sheet metal. He lifted it about four feet from the ground to elevate higher than the bending machine.

I'd spoken with Graham quite a lot as he'd taught me the ropes. He always told me about the grip on the cranes being temperamental. He told me never to stand under the crane, explaining that Corton wouldn't pay out money to fix the crane. He didn't seem to care about the lives of his employees.

Graham stepped back with the control pad in his hands. He looked up at the huge structure and moved it towards my station so I could grind off all the hard edges. He moved the metal tube closer stepped back slowly.

Without any warning the grip gave way. This huge metal tube flew towards Graham, bouncing off another that lay on the floor. Graham ducked behind the metal tube that was on the floor as the other huge structure bounced over his back and landed on the floor with an echoing crash. Dust flew everywhere. I looked at Corton but he didn't seem to care.

If Graham hadn't have moved as quickly as he did I fear I'd be writing a blog entry about a guy I'd seen crushed to his death. He stood up with his right ear bleeding heavily. The sharp edges of the sheet metal had sliced Graham's ear on it's decent to the ground. I couldn't believe Corton's reaction.
'Is the tube all right?' Graham quit his job the next day. He decided to go back to university. More power to him I remember thinking. By the sound of things he could have passed a university course a long time ago. He was an intelligent guy, wasted on an employer like Corton.


Jimmy's pulling towards the entrance. The car park attendant lets us park in section A. He speaks to us in a thick Barnsley accent,
'I'll let you do it even though ah shunt.' We roll the drum and carry the lion to the main entrance of the town hall. Whenever I think Barnsley I think boring. Despite my reservation I'm teasingly exited about this dance.

The drums blare out their beat, the symbols crash and the gong chimes as Little Lion and I bow and get under the lion costume. We assume our role. We are the Chinese lion.

The lion bows three times in front of the main entrance to the town hall. It dances forwards, looking around and blinking. It snaps its jaws and shakes it's tail to the beat of the drum. It climbs cautiously up the white marble staircase. It sniffs the banisters and walls.

The lion enters a carpeted room full of expectant faces. It lays down to sleep looking like a stumbling drunkard. After ten seconds the tail spins round and whacks the head. The lion looks around, startled. The lion snoozes and falls back to sleep. The tail hits the head a second time, this hit to the other side of the head. The lion jumps to life, pouncing up onto its feet. The lion scrapes the floor with its left legs. It rolls over. The crowd of onlookers cheer and clap.

At this moment there's a big grin on my face. I stoop down and wave the costume to make the lion appear like it's breathing heavily. I orange and yellow trouser legs to my left. I pull the back of the lion costume over Selina's back as she stoops low to climb in. I adjust the tail over her backside. James grabs the head from Little Lion.

I watch as the lion eats the offering. It picks the lettuce up and chews it merrily. It spits lettuce to the right then to the left. It jumps forwards and spits green lettuce leaves over everything in range. The crowd cheers.

The lion stands on one leg. The wooden drumsticks hit the drum one last time. The crowd are cheering and clapping. I look at my team with pride. I'm feeling so grateful to be a part of this.

I'm chatting to important looking women and eating plastic platefuls of Indian, Chinese and British cuisine. There's orange juice plus tea and coffee free for all.

Jimmy's driving us back to Sheffield. I'm peering out of the window. I ring Shane and tell him I'm going to walk to his house. I'm having a fantastic day. Why not persist if you're on a roll?

I'm Like a Child

I'm like a child
I'm Wild.
I'm Vibrant.
I run my fingers over cold metal bars.
I touch brickwork and stone.

I'm like a child.
My eyes see vibrant colours.
Intense blue, this isn't just a wooden barrier, It's a canvas.
I tear a leaf from it's branches.
I breathe in the cool autumn air.
I pull off bits of leaf and flick them.
I watch them fly to the ground.

I'm like a child.
My eyes are new.
Everything holds beauty.
I look at the sign for The Fuel Nightclub.
The picture looks like a place I'd rather not be.
It's not that I'm homophobic.
The rainbow colours and bizarre faces remind me of an acid trip.

I'm like a child.
People and faces don't matter in this state.
Traffic plays on busy roads.
I see things to jump on and play with.
I walk slowly along the top of a concrete wall.
I could walk for hours.


"We do not stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing."

Source Unknown.

Self Expression

One day of hard training is enough to make me feel great. I'm looking at myself in the mirror and I'm happy with my body. I look in my eyes and I'm proud that that's me. I feel like writing. There's always that thought holding me back. What if she reads my blog? What if he takes offense?

I know if I take this attitude in my blog I'll take this attitude in my life. Before I know what's happening I'll be being overly nice to people I don't like and holding my tongue when I have something to say. I can't live like this.

Self expression and freedom of speech are important aspects of my daily life and the way I behave. I'm more confident now than I've ever been before. I'm stronger than I've ever been. This type of realisation makes me want to tell people all my thoughts. It makes me want to publish all those blog posts that are marked 'draft.'

I'm willing to risk losing friends. I'm willing to risk missing out on dates. I'm going to maintain my self respect and be myself. The people in my life who are true friends will go with that. Anyone else is out of the spectrum.

A Modernistic Realisation

From now on I'll think about how I look. I'm noticing a trend. You wear your tracksuit bottoms and people leer at you. You wear a suit and people open doors for you. I hate the fact that this is how thing are. What can you do?

People are going to look at the way you dress and make judgements. People will see the associations. If you wear Nike trainers people see a chav. If you wear a suit people automatically think you're an important person.

Sometimes I think it doesn't matter how I present myself. I'll be talking to a woman and I'll feel the distance. I'll chat to a guy and feel the lack of respect. I really think I need to think about my image a lot more. I should dress in suitable attire whether I'm training or not.

If you dress smartly you feel smart. I walk taller when I'm proud of what I'm wearing. I'm pretty sure I sink when I feel scruffy. I believe that you should be able to be comfortable with yourself. Maybe the heart of the issue is feeling good about yourself. That's it. From now on I'll aim to dress in a way that will make me feel great. I'll groom well and iron my shirts. What a revelation.

Oriental Night at Embrace

We're sitting in the RSVP bar. It's the night out for the oriental society. Why am I a member of the oriental society? I suppose my love of kung fu and Chinese lion dancing speak for themselves. There's twelve people I don't know around this table. I memorise each person's name. I real them off.
'There's Aniche, Yen, Laura, Suzy, Foo, Ken, Teddy, Venni, Zing, The Other Suzy, Jovi and Yidi.' I grin and laugh, impressed with my mind working as fast as it is.
'That's quite impressive' David tells me. I'm sipping my Guinness and chatting. I'm loud and very talkative. People are shocked by me at first. After people get used to me they relax and I can really get to know them. I'm feeling really light headed as I drink my second pint of Guinness.




The queue gets smaller as we wait in line. I'm looking at a doorman as he turns a group of students in matching white t-shirts away.
'It's only Chinese people tonight.' I look around me
'This guy seems to be saying it's only Chinese people tonight.' Carl grins as I hand over my ticket. The guy rips the ticket in half and I walk in. The hip hop music plays loudly. I start to feel exited.

I'm drinking bottles of lager like it's a competition. I find myself dancing to the blaring hip hop. I truly let go. For the first time in my life I'm actually enjoying dancing. I totally relax as I feel someone's hand on my back pushing me into the middle of our group. Now I'm dancing in the middle of a circle of people. I hear girls screaming and guys egging me on. I let everything go, my inhibitions, self-conciousness, I let the music guide my body.








I'm procrastinating. Why can't I just do it? In my mind's eye I picture myself walking up and saying
'I think you're beautiful.' It'll look crazy if I just walk up and say it like that. I stand upright. Ken nudges me to dance and Carl tries to push me into centre circle. I stand up straight and look around me. I know I'm going soon. I want to say this before I leave. As soon as she walked into the RSVP bar I thought she was memorising.

I'm just going to do it, but how? If I go through everyone I've met tonight and say my goodbyes it wont seem weird. I start with Carl, mouthing
'I've got to get off' like some sort of mime while Kanye West's Stronger blasts through the speakers.

I go from person to person. It takes a moment or two but each person realises what I'm saying. I get round to the girl and as I shake her hand I lean close to her left ear and my nose touches her soft black hair.
'You look really beautiful and sexy tonight.' She says
'Thanks' in a friendly, surprised tone. I smile and move onto the next person. I wave to everyone and walk towards the exit.

I carry my kebab meat and chips into the taxi. I tell him my address and he pulls away from the takeaway place. I know I might feel hungover tomorrow. Will it be worth it? I grin and nod to myself. Of course it'll be worth it.

I'll Have a Boots Card, and Your Telephone Number

I walk up the the pretty strawberry blond woman. She's lamp post thin and her skin is pale white.
'Hi, can you tell me where the cod liver oil is?' She stands upright to face me.
'I'll show you, I'm rubbish with directions.'

She whizzes up the store and I pick up my pace to follow her. She jokes that her lack of directional sense will wind her up in superdrug.
'These are two for one' she tells me.
'That's great, there's hope for you yet.'

'Anything else I can help you with?' Her face is bright and open.
'Yeah, where's the chondroitin and glucosamine? I'm testing you now you see.' She sees the joke. She pauses and I give her a helping hand. 'They're usually over here' I say, waving my hand near the cod liver oil like a weather man.

I walk to the counter. I stare at a middle aged lady with pearl earings.
'These are three for two right?'
'Yes they are sir'
'Do I get to choose which two I pay for?' She tells me that it's the two most expensive products that you pay for. I knew that'd be the case.

The woman's handing me leaflets for my boots card. I look up and there's the strawberry blonde in an 'I'm just hanging round, nothing better to do' stance. She prolongs eye contact with me. Her blue eyes fix on my hazel eyes. I notice the light blue lines reaching out from her pupils like sun rays.

She jokes with me about men's products.
'The number seven range has no sex, it's for women and men.' I laugh,
'I wouldn't like to tell any of my guy friends that.'
'Well you could be macho but then you're missing out.' I raise my voice slightly.
'Yeah, macho men don't have very good skin do they!' Silence. I cough loudly, clearing my throat. 'Anyway...'

I tell the strawberry blond it was nice to meet her as she's walking to the staff room. She calls out
'You too, come again.'
'Oh I will' I holla, slightly more provocatively than I mean to. She beams me a smile and the woman in the pearl earrings laughs to herself.

I'm very aware that I look like the man right now. Woohoo. I walk out of the shop bouncing with every step. I'll call back and ask her for her number soon.

A Little Place I Like To Go

I sit the tray down on the table. I lay my tools out, the tools of a writer. I glance at the paper back novel. Maybe I'll read Atonement later. I open my writing pad and sharpen my orange HB pencil. Something stops me.

There's two girls and one guy at the other side of the wall to my left. They're discussing the story from lock stock. I listen as they discuss how clever the plot was. How inspiring.

I reckon I could write my whole novel in the basement of this coffee shop. I sip my coffee and pop a profiterole into my mouth. I stare at the rustic brick wall and modern, grate-like wall lamp for a moment. I close my eyes.

It's like a dream only clearer. I control the action. I feel the emotions of my characters, hear their voices. I play the scene through from beginning to end. I open my eyes. I grab my pencil and relax as my hand goes into full sprint.

The Hard To Get Man

I'm walking to the bus stop staring down at my trainers. There's a funky design on them. You can see a little sword and some lettering but only when the light hits them at an angle. They were only cheap. It's all in the details of your appearance.

I look at my bus stop on approach. I see two pretty girls with big smiles on their faces. The brunette glances in my direction. I'll go and stand in the bus stop with them.

I stand up straight with my bodyweight distributed equally over both feet. The blond has her back to me. The brunette keeps making eye contact then looking away.

I stand back to let them on the bus before me. I flash my pass to the driver. They're sitting right at the back. That's where I usually sit.

I pass them and as I do I say
'Hi.' They giggle and smile, the blond says
'Hey.' I sit down and place my bag next to me. The more female attention you get the more you relax. It's simple. The more a woman stares the more you totally relax and focus on your breathing.

The brunette pokes her head round to face me, excitement in her red face and blue eyes.
'Have you got a number?' Well of course I have a number I think. 'Can she have your number?'
'Yeah sure' I say, reaching into my jeans for my mobile.

The blond shifts past the brunette to sit in the two seats in front of me. She sits sideways so she can look at me. I'm like
'How's things with becoming the next Kate Moss? We've spoken before haven't we?' She's nodding. I can't fight the feeling she's a little shy. When she first told me she was a model a year ago I'd gone shy and didn't know what to say. Look at me now.

'Where are you getting off?' The brunette's chatty. I can't help wishing it was her who'd asked for my number.
'Howard Street.' Blank expression. 'Near The Howard pub?'
'Ah' she nods the the blond. They have some kind of private moment. 'We're getting off at the moor.' Here's my opportunity to take the piss out of them. A big grin crosses my cheeks.
'Are you a bit of a ruffian then?' They erupt in sporadic laughter, opening their mouths wide and facing each other.

The brunette does nearly all of the talking. She asks me what I'm in town for. I say
'You know those people who jump from building to building?' She nods quickly. 'I'm one of those.' They tell me they're sisters. I tell them that they don't look like sisters. I notice their eyes are similar.
The brunette keeps her gaze on mine. It's like my attention is a magnet.
'You have gorgeous eyes' she tells me.
'Thanks,' do I tell her hers are nice? No, no need to suck up.

The bus approaches the bottom of the moor. They stand up. I say
'Really nice to meet you.' They're walking off telling me they will ring me. They tell me we'll go out for a drink. I sit back and reflect as the bus pulls out. How easy was that?

Knocked Up - My Opinion

This movie stars Seth Rogan, who happens to be my favourite actor from 'The 40 Year Old Virgin' and Katherine Heigl. The movie follows the lives of fictional characters Ben Stone and Alison Scott. These dual protagonists go through the process of dealing with an unwanted pregnancy. This movie is very original. At no point did I find any cliché or flaw in the plot.

This is an excellent movie. I loved 'The 40 year Old Virgin.' After that movie I longed for something that made a similar impact. 'Knocked Up' is as refreshing as it is insightful. I give it a four star rating.

My favourite aspect of this movie was the dialogue. The characters were painted with a firm hand. They were very believable. Towards the end of the movie I was leaning forwards. I really didn't know how things would turn out. Would Ben and Alison get together? When the credits rolled down the screen I knew I'd watched a truly great movie. I'll deffinetly watch it again.

That's the Type of Person I am

I lift the metal jug and pour milk onto the brown froth that covers my coffee. I stir the coffee and the water swirls like a whirlwind. I pick out two black sachets from the white porcelain mug. These must be white sugar. I rip the top off and tip the sugar sachets upside down. I close my eyes and lift the coffee to my nose. Mmmmm.

I relax in my chair. I close my eyes. I let my warm breath fill my lungs. I open my eyes, looking focused. I look friendly but you suspect there's something behind my stare, something unbecoming.

I sip my coffee and you watch my lips as I talk. I'm saying anything I want and this makes you cautious. There's something about my freedom of speech that makes you nervous.

You look across the road. Despondent men walk out of William Hill.
'Gambling's a mugs game' I tell you. You laugh out of courtesy. I smile like I'm content.

You're forever trying to figure me out. Is he a good guy? Do I trust him? Throughout these doubts you sense I don't care what you think of the way I act and you're right. This alone intrigues you as you keep talking to me.

Beef and Birds

I sense a tingling in my back. There's two guys walking behind me. My fingers extend and my hand tenses. In my mind's eye I see myself reacting to an attack with the power of Bruce Lee. That's my body's natural defence mechanism.

I relax. They aren't a threat. They start talking. Their voices rise and fall like mine does when I speak. People who I watch out for or feel danger around talk in an almost monotonic voice. They're the unhappy looking guys who dress in all black and seem to glide along as opposed to walking. They only change the tone of their voice when they're shouting or getting exited.

I'm sitting on the bus. A woman with a pram keeps giving me the eye. She's a little overweight. Her mum gives me a look like she's watching out for me. She can tell I'm reciprocating eye contact. She should watch out. Keep your daughters under close control. That's a joke. I'm not attracted to this girl but I'm comfortable and relaxed when she looks at me. She's got baby blue eyes. Because I'm not interested I seem hard to get.

I can see her eyes but not her mouth now. There's someone's head in the way. She's smiling at me and I know it's a genuine one. You can tell. Cover up someone's mouth and look into their eyes. Are their eyes smiling? If so it's a genuine smile.

I step off the bus. My whole body feels powerful from my big toe up to my index finger. I can feel the chi energy flowing through it's channels. I'm ready to run, jump, swim or fight at the start of a pistol. Come on life! I'm having you!


I'm walking home from the shops holding a co-op bag. I jump to the curb with my toes pointing out. I hear a guy's voice.
'You ballet nob.' I slow down and turn my neck, at the same time rising tall in my frame. 'Oh my god he pulled a screw face' the voice says. I carry on walking, my head to the side to hear any other remarks.

Lisses Stupidity 2007

Shame on Me

As I look back I see things in hindsight. Oh hindsight, how happy I'd be if you changed to foresight. I see flaws in my actions.

We're training next to Gash, Will says
'Maybe we can get round to some training after you've finished warming up for eight hours Danny.' I launch into this tirade about how I'm not warming up. I'm preparing my body through physical exercise. I look back and I ask myself does it really matter what people think of the way I train? Surely if I'm happy with what I'm doing then that's all that matters. Does arguing this point make life any better? If I laugh and go
'Yeah, haha' then I can put all my energy into training.

In a park Dave says
'You are a male whore.' I seriously and deeply resent this. I express my distaste in the wrong manner. It makes sense to say something like
'Look, a joke's a joke but I don't appreciate you calling me that, please don't call me that because that's not what I'm about.' Instead of taking this mature, adult approach I lose my cool and start swearing.

When I'm running on adrenaline I get carried away. I switch off. Excitement guides me. It's easy to lose sight of what's really important. It's like being on drugs. I do think it’s healthy. I think hardcore exercise and endorphins are the way forwards.

Today was a good day. I did enjoy it. There was something at the back of my mind that wanted to get out. I was in the middle of my daily Buddhist meditation and there it was. I knew straight away where I'd gone wrong.

Monkeys!

The epic day stands out in my memory like a shining star. The biggest tree I'd ever climbed, agreeing, disagreeing, highs and lows. These are the fragments of dreams.

I'm feeling really focused as I sit in my leather chair. I know I've brought everything into clear view today. Writing, martial arts, parkour, I feel like I'm excelling at all three things.

My friends and I tell each other the bold truth about things. There is conflict between us. We insult each other. Sometimes we cock block each other and step one each others toes. We're still friends at the end of the day.

Shane calls me a name and I take offence, I call him something I'd rather not repeat on this page. Two minutes later, in fact thirty seconds later we're chatting normally. Conflict bonds us. Today has shown that it's truly okay to be different and have differences. The truth will see you through.

The day's events started with a warm up at eleven AM. We were still training at half eight PM. We finished with a walk down Ecclesall Road barefoot. There was Shane, Ben and me pottering down the dark street carrying our trainers in our hands. We joked all the way down the road about having no shoes on. We did it loud so people could hear. When you're different people stop and look at you. Be comfortable with your differences and you shine like a gold chopstick amongst ten wooden ones.

My mind's alive with thoughts and feelings. Some of the day's events left me elated, others made me feel frustrated. If I do sit down and relax now I'll have a lot to process. Time was in suspended animation in my mind. Now the story starts to unfold. I did some great parkour and we had some truly great conversations and interactions with people.

I'm surpassing my abilities physically. My new chi gung regime mixed with the 'Bruce Lee' training programme is really paying off for me. Something stops me from feeling totally great about today. I feel like some people don't understand who I am. If people think that I want to be hard or enjoy flexing my muscles they're looking at me with a narrow lens. I'm a man trying to master myself physically. I want to be in total control of my mind and body. I want to diminish my ego and truly learn the lessons that humility has to offer.

I take a deep breath. My fingers are tapping the keys so hard I think I may break some. My fingers move fast. Energy flows through my body. Now I have a page of mumbled paragraphs written in excitement to wade through and edit.

One thing will stay in my mind for today, one lesson. Be persistent and believe in who you are totally. If you meet any opposition to your personality shrug it off. It's better to be humble and learning that proud and showing off.

Look Who It Is!

We're sitting in Ruskins. A skinny guy in a blue shirt walks in. He looks familiar. Lianne's like
'Isn't that-'
'Robbie from EastEnders' I say.
'Yeah, oh my god.' He looks a lot smaller in person.

I tilt the thick glass and swallow the fresh orange juice.
'Right I better head off, I've got to catch my bus.' I grab my bag and walk to the glass door. I turn around and wave. Rachael and Lianne smile and I open the door. The cold wind blows in my face. I put my head down and start walking.

'Danny' Lianne's voice calls out. I turn on the balls of my feet.
'Yeah?'
'Do you want a lift?'
'Yeah that'd be great.' I walk towards them. 'You mean you're not going to go and chat with Robbie? You might be missing out on a great opportunity to mingle with the stars here'
'Nah, not really my thing'
'Well if Wellard comes walking up that road I'm going back.' They both start laughing and I grin uncontrollably.

Reminisce

The thin black minute hand worked its way around the white clock face. It sailed past a large black number twelve. A clicking sound echoed off the white wash walls with every second that went by. The minute hand passed the number three and the clock stopped ticking. There was no movement, no sound.

The grey haired old lady rocked back and forth in the birch rocking chair. She knitted with the burgundy wool. Her knitting needles made a clicking sound. Her clicking was faster and more erratic than the clock. Her manual dexterity was swift like that of a seasoned croupier. She looked out of the tall windows. A robin red breast landed on her bird table. She'd made it herself out of an old coffee table. The bird looked around then pecked at the breadcrumbs and pieces of fat.

Upstairs the young boy sat in the quiet room. It was so quiet he could hear the hum of the PCs fan. The PC screen made a slight ringing sound. I’ll bet this is really loud to dogs he thought. He tapped his index fingers on the arrow keys. He watched as a tiny character in an American football helmet ran across the screen. His posture was upright but his shoulders were slouched. He pushed his thin silver rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He stared at the screen with his wide blue eyes.

He looked out of the window to the garden below. His pupils shrank. He leaned onto the grey stone window ledge. The greenhouse stood relentlessly against the passing seasons. Green moss covered the lower panes of glass. Ripe red tomatoes hung amongst green leaves and wooden polls that were makeshif