Back to the book

Morning guys, after a decent first day back at work yesterday, after getting back into my old routine and after having some reflection time #havingawordwimesen I have decided to focus a little more of my precious time on the book, opposed to on here talking about me sen and life’s observations, i will still do that but I do want to focus more I time on the book, so I thought I could do both? I can share some of my writing on here as well and this could actually work in my favor? I’m still not sure about using real names yet or not?

1) I will be making time for the book and 2) I would actually appreciate any comments or feedback you might have, I mean hey, the more the merrier, right?

But before I share, please be mindful that my writing is in early, early, early draft having never written or published a book before I suspect or understand that there are and will be a few edits required, so I figured I could get your feedback as I go along? the chapter I am about to share is about the time in my early twenties when I had started to question just what the fuck I was doing with my life, now I had thought this many a time before, but this time I supposed I had started to be exposed to a different reality.

So here goes

Working at cafe 

I’m not sure exactly when I started unravelling, falling apart mentally, I know I had felt emotionally numb for a long time, before I finally lost the plot. I certainly wasn’t happy, I’d not been happy for a number of years, I felt taken for granted, used, like I was there trying to please everyone, making them happy, without ever getting anything fuck all back in return. I’d frequently be thinking, ‘god theres got to be more to life than this?’

xxxx had started going out with his old mates, who he used to hang around with before I met him. At first, I thought it was great, he’d finally gotten out of a rut, being a recluse and was stepping out into the land of the living, actually fucking doing something.  But, it wasn’t long before he saw an opportunity to make a bit of money, by selling drugs on the side. Personally, I wasn’t that bothered, whilst he was doing his thing, he wasn’t pecking at my fucking head and he seemed happy enough, he was turning back into the guy I first fell for, truth be told. 

When I was a teenager, and around where I grew up, the worst drug people were taking was glue or cannabis, I’d had a sniff of glue before, but didn’t really like how it made me feel and they were the really hard core guys, those who didn’t give a fuck about what they did etc. I think having a kid at seventeen and not being exposed to the “drugs Scene” per say, I didn’t go out, if I did it was for a quick drink with me dad, there was none about then, or if there were I never saw em. Even when my ex was dealing and there were drugs in the house, drugs had never really bothered me or scared me if I’m perfectly honest and I just couldn’t see the point and why people took them. I never thought about the Law and real consequences for his new hobby, or job as he’s started to treat it as such. 

We’d managed, well I say “we” the house was in his name, after my attempt of leaving him previously so “he” managed to get a house exchange from Walkley to an area called Basegreen, near back to my old stomping ground, back nearer to his new mates. I was happy to move, the new house was much bigger, I stopped working for dad and hardly saw him anymore, so this was like a new chapter, also moving up there meant I would be closer to Mom, as she only lived around the corner. I didn’t have a job at the time and money was tight, well he had “his” money, but that didn’t count, the ‘tight bastard’ and we had a new house that needed decorating. So like the time before mom and Ada, helped out loads, some of his money went towards new stuff, but not all of it, it started to go on new designer clothes, fuck me his wardrobe was worth a fortune. 

So I decided to look for new job, cash in hand and found one, working on a small cafe, called “Sharon’s  Cafe” situated in the far corner on the ground floor in Castle Markets, backing onto the busy fish and meat market. I still remember my first day, I was shitting me sen, it was an early start, I had to be there for about 6 (I think) ready to serve the market stall staff, who’d been there hours before, preparing their fresh meat and fish for the customers later that day. I’d never worked in a Cafe before, I’d worked in a canteen, serving food, but not preparing it, but I was never afraid of trying out anything new or hard graft and the cash in hand was just what i needed at the time. The Cafe was only a small area, but enough for three adults to be maneuvering around and serving customers. I felt a bit like a new ornament on display when I first got there being scrutinized by some of the regulars I’d been shown the basic’s, so just winged it, brushed off the flirtatious comments, and exchanged banter with me newly acquired workmates, just like John the owner had warned me about before starting, but it wasn’t so bad. But it did transpire that a minority of the market staff where shagging each other like fucking rabbits! (but thats another story) The hardest part was cutting the uncut bread! That’s all the majority of morning customers came for, that a big mug of steaming hot tea or coffee and toast, which came with either, butter, jam, marmalade or dripping and salt and I had started to learn how the regular customers liked their toast in the morning. 

Despite the early morning starts, I really enjoyed working at the cafe, its was great to see customers old friends, living on other side of the city, meeting at the cafe most mornings, for a slice of toast and a catch up. Some of them could spend most of the morning there, arriving on their own and leaving on their own. I soon realised that this place was more than just a cafe, more than just somewhere to get their fill of toast and endless cups of tea or froffy coffee. I pictured that for some, this being the only place, where they had a chance to talk to someone other than the four walls at home. Other regulars would use the cafe as a meeting point, often children and grandchildren would arrive to join them. The cafe was always buzzing with chat, gossip, stories of holidays, relationships. The more I was around other peoples relationships, the more I started questioning my own, I’d started questioning loads. 

On my way home one afternoon I bumped into xxxx, who was an old friend from school and her and her bloke, her childhood sweetheart used to come up to ours when we first moved to Walkey. Don’t ask me why, they stopped coming around, we didn’t have mobiles back then, I’d not seen her for a couple of years and then I bumped into her in the ‘hole in the road’ she looked ‘alot’ different, she was super skinny, really on edge, not like the old fun carefree xxxx I had previously known. It turns out she is no longer with her childhood sweetheart, but had been dating a well known, hard nut called xxxxxxxxxxx , however, she just recently moved into a women’s hostel fleeing his violence, apparently, he’d dangled her by the ankles from the top floor of Park Hills Flats. Whilst i was accustomed to a bit of domestic abuse and intimidation with dad and mom, this sounded like a whole other level, christ I recall walking away and wishing I could just take her home with me and protect her. We chatted and caught up on how our lives had changed, I told her about xxxx and what he was up to and exchanged numbers. It was nice to reconnect to an old friend again and we agreed not to lose touch again. 

It was xxx who introduced me to our new dealer, he did good deals on speed he seemed like a nice guy, not your typical looking dealer, not that you can ever tell anymore and yes I heard he had an reputation, but in the flesh and seeing him with his partner and daughter I saw another side to him. I also got on well with his partner we were around the same age, we had kids the same age, so when I used to go around to collect the speed, it was more like a social visit rather than being there for a drugs transaction, we would use our get togethers to moan about life, kids, partners etc, ya know the usual crap. I remember that she didnt go out much, she was like a recluse, happy to stay in doors, whilst her hubby was out and about wheeling and dealing, I suppose I was the same, I didn’t go anywhere, not really, let be fair I didn’t have any mates to go out with.

Dad wasn’t around as much, in fact, I rarely spoke to him he was busy being a publican, larging it up behind the bar, so what he didn’t know didn’t hurt, ‘right’. Dad was like many blokes of his generation, anti-drugs, so had he known what we were up to he would have flipped his fucking lid, big time and had he known at the time that I was associating with guys he knew and associated with, he would have defiantly flipped.