Do you believe in ghosts?


Are you sure?


A ghost, I think, is someone or something that died and still haunts you.

So it could be an idea you had but didn’t follow through.

An opportunity you didn’t take.

A relationship that didn’t make it.

An abusive person or partner that you let into your life and allowed to stay a while – unchecked.

Regret – is a ghost.


I have memories.

And sometimes they appear in my head as regrets.

They really do feel like ghosts that haunt me.

But these days I spend time looking forward much more.

Not back.

I don’t know how bright the future will be, but I believe that if I keep going and stay determined and stay focussed I should be OK.

I don’t believe in ghosts.

And so it follows, I suppose, that I don’t believe in regret either.

This is good to remember.

It is quite revealing when you ask Google what Brexit means.

When I asked, I actually wanted reminding where the contraction ‘Brexit’ came from.

‘Brexit’ the word.

Not ‘Brexit’ the thing.

I couldn’t remember.

It’s “British Exit” of course.

Brexit is an abbreviation for “British exit,” referring to the UK’s decision in a June 23, 2016 referendum to leave the European Union (EU). … (Alternatives are known as “soft Brexit.”) “Leave” won the June 2016 referendum with 51.9% of the ballot, or 17.4 million votes; “Remain” received 48.1%, or 16.1 million.

Anyhow, I didn’t get the result I wanted.

(In the Google search or the Referendum, actually).

Instead of Google reminding me where the contraction came from, it threw back many thousands of definitions of what Brexit actually is, was and/or might be.

And I’d wager that no two definitions were the same.

I find this quite ironic.

Two Points.

So I want to make two points about Brexit.


If politicians are supposed to look after us in a vaguely similar way that parents are supposed to look after children (because they know more and it’s their job), we have been asked by our parents whether we want to stay on this side of the road – or cross it to the other side.

And when, holding their hand, we looked up at them and asked them what traffic might be coming, from what direction and how fast, they replied, ‘dunno’.

And we got the same shoulder-shrug when we asked them what the other side of the road looked like.

Or they fucking lied.

And then they said (something like), “…But it is sure to be better than just standing here.”

And, “You’ll be alright!”

And we said, “OK then.”

And we stepped into the road. 

And they watched.

No one.

No one knows what Brexit means.

In any of its guises.

Not even the politicians.

Not even now.


I find it silly that politicians and adults in general call this thing ‘Brexit’.

This ‘British Exit’.

We’re grown ups.

This is serious.

And important.

It’s affecting business.

And lives.

It’s not a silly game.

So why this stupid fucking contraction?


So, politicians… Brangelina; yes.

Brexit; no.

You stunts.

Izobel arrived two and a half years ago.

At almost 50, to make an Izobel with someone that is just a couple of years younger than you requires some medical intervention.

So that’s what we did.


If you’ve done this too (not necessarily the medical intervention bit – the other bit) you’ll know how dumbfounding it is.

Making an Izobel.

How they become actual little people so quickly.

In 24 months they go from a pink mole-like creature that can’t even move – to an actual person that reasons with you why reading the same Meg and Mog story over and over and over is a good idea.

Or that thinks it’s OK to smile at you and steal the best bits of food from your plate.

How does Izobel know that this is OK for her to pinch the best things from my plate?

How does Izobel know that, in actual fact, it’s OK for her to have everything on my plate?

No matter how hungry I am.


If I last my allotted 1,000 months, Izobel will watch me die when she is 34 years old.

This would be acceptable to me.

It’s probably enough time for her to love me, then hate me, then boomerang back to love me again.

But to spend 34 years with Izzy Willow will be just fine.

I will have experienced the physical agony of seeing her hurt by other people I am sure.

I am not looking forward to that.

And I may still be around to see her create little people of her own.

I am looking forward to that.


Anyhow, in case I die all of a sudden (a heart attack or a Laurel and Hardy type piano accident) I’ve written Izobel a letter, asking her to do just one thing for me after I die.

I honestly only want her to do one thing.

It’s to live for 100 years.

Anything else she does between now and then is fine by me.

Now that she’s here, all I really just want is for her to stay here.

And think of me, once or twice, in each of the 66 years that she outlives me.

Because wherever I am, I will be thinking about her.

George Michael had everything. 

Talent. Adulation. Critical acclaim. Deep respect from his peers.

Hang on, let me start that again…

George Michael had everything. 

Tragedy. Addiction. Failing health. Endless ridicule and unreasonable hounding from the mainstream media.


I don’t know which ‘everything’ is the everything that George Michael would have identified with.

Probably both.

But, and this is the point of this little story, here is a George Michael quote that may even explain why he is no longer with us.

In a documentary shortly before his death he asked this rhetorical question:

What happens when everything is not enough?

This is an important question for all of us I think.

Chasing the wrong everything must be a terrible thing.


Because it can leave you feeling empty and lost if you don’t ever get it.

And if you do.

Think forward.

Imagine you get everything you want.

Imagine you have your everything right now.

And ask yourself if it’s the right everything.

It’s an important question.

Of course!

It’s totally obvious.

Of course we all have a shadowside.


This notion makes me feel better.

The insight relaxes me.

I feel at ease with the notion that (this is my interpretation anyway) we all are a balance of light and dark.

It’s OK that, sometimes, I feel confused or lost or paralysed or ‘down’ or – quite literally – dark.

It’s natural.

If there is light in your life – so too there is shadow.


In Jungian psychology (so Wikipedia tells me), the ‘shadow’, ‘Id’, or ‘shadow aspect/archetype’ part of me is:

1. An unconscious aspect of the personality which the conscious ego does not identify in itself, or:

2. The entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious.

In short, the shadow is my ‘dark side’.


Whatever the case, I am happier now that I (re)realise that I know this thing that I knew anyway.

Half of me will always be in shadow, for as long as there is light in my life.

I accept that if lose the shadow, I also lose the light.

This acceptance is valuable.

Now I know for sure that my shadow side is there, it’s somehow less powerful and alluring.

Because I used to worry about how to get rid of it.

Now I know that I can’t get rid of it, I also realise that I can chose when to visit.

Or not to visit.

And I think that – increasingly, now I am accepting that my shadowside is part of me – I am more inclined to choose ‘not’.

And that’s a good thing.

I have a recurring dream.

I live in a big house in this dream.

Rather like, but not exactly the same as, our last house.

That was big.

But this dream house is so big that I think I know how many rooms are in it but I am not exactly sure.

I remember feeling that, because I don’t know exactly how many rooms I have in my house, I feel rather good (in a shallow kind of way).

The Room.

I also remember that there is this one room in my house that I am frightened to go into.

I know the room is there.

But I will always procrastinate about going into it.

Stacked furniture blocks the entrance to it, you see.

And it is troublesome to move it.

This room, the one I am frightened to go into, is at the back of another room.

A bedroom.

At the back of this first bedroom, the ceiling slopes downwards towards this other, unvisited room.

I feel somehow glad that I have this other, unexplored place.


Yet I remain fearful of what is in the room beyond where the ceiling lowers.

I have never been there.


Jill knows she is inferior, therefore she is superior to anyone who thinks she is superior to him.

My friend David Bradley bought me 4 books last month.

One of them is called KNOTS by R.D. LAING.

It’s a mad book, containing observations by the Oxford Professor of Poetry that he describes as,

…remarkable insights into the ways human beings behave to one another.

Things People Think and Say.

I like the book because it contains just a few pieces of dialogue and prose over it’s 90 pages that I can dip into and out of.

I like books that I can pick up and put down.

My attention is rarely held for long.

However, with this book, the reason I dip out is because with more than half of it I don’t know what the hell it’s going on about.

This isn’t a book review.


Because I haven’t finished the book.

Because I don’t understand most of it.

But one or two bits of it are really amazing and explain big chunks of the human psyche really efficiently.

I recognise the behaviours and thinking in me and in people I know or knew from what I am reading.

Take the quote at the beginning of this little story.

The quote is simply saying that if you think everyone is better than you, and someone thinks everyone is not better than you, and because of this they like you, then you are better than them.

(You might want to read that again).

And so it might follow that they are not therefore good enough for you.

Because they couldn’t even fathom that everyone is better than you.

If this is describing you now, or in the past, or anyone you know or knew, then that person:

  1. Will never allow themselves to love anyone because anyone worth loving would not be hoodwinked into thinking that you are lovable.
  2. Will never allow anyone to love them because anyone that would entertain the idea of loving them is clearly not good enough to love them because they think you’re lovable, and you aren’t.

There’s a simple lesson I suppose.

And it’s an old one.

It’s that lesson about loving yourself being really important because, until you do, you cannot be involved in a truly loving relationship with anyone else.

I have always sensed this is true.

I think.

But I never really understood why it’s true.

I think I do now.

And by the way, I am sober as I write this.

Just in case you were wondering.

Read this again if you have 5 minutes.

I haven’t explained this brilliantly I don’t think…

But the quote at the beginning – I like it!

I think it really does explain why loving yourself is important.

Your life can only get better, or worse, one day at a time.

In fact everybody’s life gets better, or worse one day at a time.

We are all the same.

From the richest to the poorest.

On this subject – we are the same.


This is really important because, sometimes, we panic about everything being shit or everything being dark or everything being awful.

That’s natural.

But tomorrow, thing will either get better – or worse – just one day at a time.

That’s how time work.

That’s how life works.


So worry less.

Even if tomorrow is worse, it is just one day worse.

If the following day can be better, so the previous bad day is cancelled out.

And if the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that are all better too then, well, that’s a trend.

Better or worse. 

This is an empowering notion.

You are just like everyone else.

We are either on your way up.

Or on your way down.

Sometimes you know.

Sometimes you don’t know.

But you are only ever one day from up, or down.


So if you’re on the up – be grateful – and keep the trend going.

And if you’re on the way down – be grateful too.

Because it need only be for one day.

Most of what you need to know to help you in life can be found on the internet.

You just ask Google and the websites that it points you to.

To get fitter.

To run a better business.

To find a partner.

To learn how to speak French.

To learn how to make a fish pie.

To help you through deep feelings of depression.

To keep you here.

On the face of it, help is readily available, relatively cheap or free.


There is however a much much more powerful help out there.

It’s a much more valuable kind of help and it can only come from another human being.

That person has to be genuinely engaged, ask the right questions, listen properly and then mix all of what they learn from you with all of the knowledge, experience and caring they have inside – or that they can get access to.

The good news is that this is most people.


I am making this distinction (between Internet help and people help) because lots of people, including me, don’t ask for people help.

They may ask Google instead.

It takes a lot to ask another person for help.

To make myself think about asking for help, I try to remember how nice I feel when I help someone else.

So if I choose not to ask people for help, I am denying them the nice feelings they afforded me when they allowed me to help them am I not?


If you need help with something, ask someone.

And don’t be fed up if you ask the wrong person the first few times.

Help is out there.

All you have to do is be patient, reach out – and ask.

If you’re not weird; that’s weird.

I mean it.

It’s weird because you’re definitely hiding something.

(Something GOOD).

Or complying.

Or toning it down.

And that’s weird.

Why would you do that?


It’s weird because it is such a bad decision to hide your weirdness.

Your weirdness makes you so much more interesting.

And (just so you know the rules) being weird is not, say, being a Goth-weird.

Or a Punk-weird.

That’s just choosing a different uniform than the one you have now.

Proper weird is you being the unique you.

James Victore

James Victore knows this best.

And he knows where to fine your weirdness, too.

James says:

Things that make you weird as a kid will make you great tomorrow.

This is so true it hurts.

Just because you’ve grown up does not mean you should stop being weird.

In fact, because you’ve grown up means you should definitely think back to what made you weird, and being it again.

Before it’s too late.




Listen to James.

Because he’s right.