Essex really does get a lot of unjustified flack doesn’t it? Much of it seems to ride on the back of that awful “The Only Way is Essex” TV show. I say awful when I shouldn’t as I have never seen the bloody thing. The mere prospect of people acting foolish is enough to put me off and besides, white stilettoes and geezer type men only reveals a small fraction of what Essex is really like.

What of Dedham, Finchingfield, Epping or Thaxted? Have people so soon forgotten why Constable selected the North Essex, South Suffolk borders to paint his landscapes? People seem so easily satisfied by believing in myth made stereotypes. Essex is fantastic, it has a lot of beauty to offer even if it does neighbour the East End. And what if it does?

My grandparents came from the East End. I love the place and could easily live in Wapping so it isn’t a case of my being a snob or in denial that there are a small few whose actions taint the rest of us. What it is that I simply do not buy into is ANY stereotype. Nor am I concerned with accents or how posh people speak. It has nothing to do with that at all.

I used to have a GP friend who informed me that when he had patients that were a bit thick he, and his colleagues, would write NFN in the notes. NFN stands for Normal For Norfolk. Are we to believe that ALL who hail from Norfolk are dim? Of course not, any more than a man of Kent is superior to a Kentish Man or that all the Irish dig for spuds, drink copious amounts of Guinness and wear green.

I am Essex born and proud of it but please do not suggest that all of my county residents are of the same stripe. We are as individual and as diverse as any other county.

.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR? https://www.amazon.

These sunny days seem heaven sent. It feels as though I am living on the south coast of the Mediterranean. It is, of course, a false impression as neither the weather nor my situation will last. I know that all too well but I still intend to enjoy every moment I can. I heard from an old contact recently, another Jason, who is a recruitment consultant. I have my fingers firmly crossed that he has one or two irons in the fire warming up just for me. We will see.

LinkedIn, that social, employment, career site, has proven to be of some worth lately. Not only as a tool in raising my profile to prospective employers but also in increasing awareness of the novels. It also allows you to see who has been visiting you, something I was unaware of initially. I now see that many old colleagues and one old friend have been viewing me. I really should remove the facility that allows anonymous visitors to leave comments here as I have no idea who half these people are. Friends are always welcome.

The interview went as well as expected. I present well and if I do say so my self, scrub up nicely. My interviewee was a nice guy named Robbie. He was about twelve years my junior and less experienced but still sharp as a pin. The company he part owns are small turning over a modest £4m. I liked them and liked him too. I am aware that people change out of interviews situations but nonetheless he was a nice guy. He is off next week and still needs to see several more people yet. I feel pretty confident but no better than to be overconfident. I do believe I could do a job for them. I would have thought £500,000 would be a fair estimate. It would mean hard work but I think it can be done and that I could do it. Now comes the horrid part – the fortnight wait.

The job hunt continues with several prospects lined up: one commission only sales job, another full time sales job in Basildon, the one with Jason B and now a two possible roles working for charities. I have also applied for a telesales job in Rayleigh and also another sales job down in Sussex (they supply a car.) The books are selling at a grudgingly slow rate but some sales are better than none.

Jasmine is working all the hours she can and I have nothing but admiration for her in her no-nonsense get on with it approach. Thumbscrew too has been a brick. We still clash horribly as our personalities are so alike. I still love her though and will never forget what she has done for her family.

.
 .
 .
 all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

You cannot turn the clock back. No matter how you may want or how you may try, life has no pause button and no reverse play. All the bad things you have either said or done will haunt you forever. All the good, which is where perhaps Karma comes into play, will be overlooked in the eyes of those you have injured. There will also be those who have done wrong, been forgiven then moved on. That option is unavailable to me,
It is the hypocrites though that cause offence for they never remember having committed the wrong and even if they do hide that fact somewhere secret the better to advantage them when they criticise you.The friends you have lost along the way will remain as fond recall but the memory is not a replacement for their companionship. “You should have thought of that first.” You’ll hear them cry and of course they are right but have they never done something wrong in their lives? Have they never wanted to stop the syllables spoken as they left their mouths? Or perhaps sooner deleted the words written?

Recent events in my working life have proven to me how much we still, all of us, are paper papists. By that I mean that all though we can make remarks verbally that can, due to the fact of perhaps facial expression or tone of voice, be taken much as they were meant. You cannot do that with words cast in black and white. It says in the Bible this or that so therefore it must be true. It says here in the Daily Gossip so and so said this and therefore it must be true for there never is smoke without fire is there? The written word can be forced to be set in stone even if the original intent was something other than what the reader has derived. It is still out inherent belief that the written word, the power of the sword and all that, is like the word of God. Absolute

As someone who professes to be a writer perhaps I should understand all too well the power of words. I think I do but I also appreciate context and nuances and if there is any ambiguity or lack of understanding with something written I’d like to think I would try and clarify matters first before leaping, or in the case of the events surrounding my job, crawling to the wrong conclusion.

The circumstances concerning my previous employment are still a matter of legality. I will not be pursuing the matter though. Not in the immediate future anyway. What I do in the future though is for me to know and them to worry about. I am happy with all the E-mailed thanks and farewells I received from former clients, many of whom felt more like friends. I am no longer the impetuous chap I was in my youth, just as stupid maybe but less flammable.

Time is ticking on, my time that is, and I no longer want to waste a second of it. I will need to have a regular job whilst my tiny business grows. In fact I think I would want to do both if at all possible. Others do so why can’t it?



On a Lighter Note...

I had a job interview condudcted across a telephone. It was the initial stages to see if I had what the company in question were looking for. I have never worked just for an envelope manufacturer before although I have sold envelopes during my time in Direct Mail (that's Junk mail to you peasants). Yes, yes, I sold junk mail and yes, yes ,yes, I am partly responsible for all those irritating leaflets and envelopes arriving on your door mat filled with yet another ball point pen. It paid well and I was good at it. At least I thought I was. Anyway, I digress, the interview was for, as I implied, an envelope manufacturer but one uninterested in employing me as a staff  member but who would rather a commision only consultative arrangement. Not what I would want but still worthy of consideration.
I suppose my thinking is now goverened by circumstance. I simply cannot afford to dismiss anything without serious thought. The books alone are not enough to support my family. Once over 55 employers are less likely to hire someone of my age and with my limited qualifications.. If they do it is usually in a consultative capcity.
Using the company I now have, Russell Duffy trading as Utility Fish Shed, I am able to offer an umbrella service across a range of disciplines. For example, were I too sell, for commision only, envelopes, all of which can be done either via phone or E-mail, what is to prevent me from doing the same with Direct Mail or print?
It is not the ideal solution but at this time of my wayward lfe I have little choice in the matter.
.
PS. It is good to see the recomendations mounting up on LinkedIn especially those from The Fizzing Drug Store. Ironic? I guess you could say that.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Having done all I could today I went over to the place where Doctor Feelgood and Eddie and The Hot Rods hailed from. It is also the place of very fond memories for me How two of the inhabitants ever put up with my increasingly obsessive nature and darkening moods is beyond me. On second thoughts I guess they didn't, put up with me that is, as i no longer see them. Canvey Island should have sunk into the sea decades ago. Not that I wish that for I like the place. It’s a funny old place is Canvey. The sea wall keeps the water out which in itself is a minor miracle as Canvey surely must be level with, if not slightly below, sea level. Not everyone likes the Island with its curious mix of misshapen homes that huddle together in a clamour of styles but I do. Yep, even a closet snob like me likes Canvey. I like its community spirit. It is reminiscent of a frontier settlement of old colonial East Enders who still, even though few of them are, keeps the Cockney fires burning and if not Cockney then working class London. It is nothing like the East End but it has a resonance about it that strikes a familiar chord: fish and chips and greasy spoon cafés.

I climb the sea wall and peer down at the grey water that seems so passive. Once though, back in the late fifties, it rose up as nature impelled it to and flooded the island ruining properties and taking lives. Nature is, much like the island, a funny old thing.

I wonder what it is about nature that forms such odd character traits in people; some so placid, others so neurotic and some just downright odd. What makes one man chug along contentedly whilst another flits from the first source of fascination and then, as it the interest pales, flits to another? What makes one man a ‘steady Eddy’ yet another a ‘Rocky Roustabout?’ It seems almost random but such things never are so arbitrary are they?

Nature or nurture, or the cause and effect of events that help to misshape an individual who otherwise might have been another ordinary Joe; I do think circumstances add to a man’s character. I think certain events that perhaps troubled him in his childhood return to haunt, and sometimes plague, his later life. By and large such defects are manageable but when a new set of challenges emerge to shake the stoic temperament then the flawed fault lines reappear and the cracks they uncover run horribly deep.

Canvey and I part company. Sadly, I don’t see me returning here again for a while. Whether I do or not is really neither here nor there but one thing though is what a glorious day is has been. We are currently enjoying an early summer with the temperature reaching 24 (that is the mid 70's to the rest of you) and what a blaze of sunshine we have been having. The heat is not unpleasant but it is a shock to us who are so ill prepared for it. Living in such a temperate climate anything other than what we are used to comes as a huge surprise. Be it snow in winter of boiling hot summer days we are never ready. Still, it has been a great day and long may that sun shine down.



.

.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

I have a plan. It’s not much of a plan but it’s my plan. It’s not a master plan and it has no guarantee of success but still the fact remains that I have a plan. Like all ideas it is simple. Coming from me I guess that would be obvious as I am hardly a brilliant thinker, a bit ‘out of the box’ at times but nothing of note. No sudden epiphany either, no stroke of genius, just a bit of time spent giving serious consideration to a number of things. One of those things, which will come as no surprise is how to further market the books.

This then is my plan.

Have maybe 500 leaflets designed then printed. On the leaflet will be thumbnail images of all five books. There will also be some ‘blurb’ about moir and also a teaser about the forthcoming book written about my local area, a teaser if you like. Out of that 500 take maybe fifty and then deliver them to a target shop of choice. In this case my choice would be Waterstones, the book store. These targeted stores will all need to be in my home county of Essex and for reasons that should be clear by now and if not soon will be. I will ask the guy or girl at the counter if it is okay for me to leave the fifty leaflets that display information about both me and my books on their counter right by the till.
Hopefully, they will agree so that when customers walk in, buy their novels by G.K. Chesterton or P.G.Wodehouse or Iris Murdoch or whoever then go to pay for them they will see the leaflet extolling the virtues of local boy come author. This may pique their interest. It may even get them to buy one of the books from Kindle. It may not be the greatest plan ever conceived but it is a plan. I have already begun the process of having the leaflet designed. How the hell I get it printed for free is the next hurdle for me to worry about later. And yeah, it is my plan and one way or another I will be executing it.

.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

.

It’s not over there that I’ll find it, among the old LP's or the pages of my books, nor is it in those cherished memories from times gone by. It’s not in the faces of those I love nor the company of the few friends I have. It’s in me, buried deep perhaps but still within me. Peace is a word that is the calm of a spring day. Peace is a word that rests soft and easy on the mind. Peace is word that floats on invisible silken wings. When it arrives its coming is a welcome release for it takes you from one place to another in the way a Mother leads her child to safety. Peace is just a word but its meaning and its arrival, like that of Sister Love, offers so much. Peace. It is in here somewhere.

.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Work continues. Five books are now available on the link at the foot of this post. Sales remain slow but having a pulse is better than no pulse at all: there is still lfe in the novels. One of the poems that I am most proud of out of the book of mostly short stories -"A Perfumed Paradox - Sketches of Erotica" - is this one:

Raindrops



Raindrops,
tiny pinpricks on slate grey concrete.
Raindrops:
leopard skin spots that fall soft and dark onto pale grey slabs.
Raindrops,
that cover the pavement like desire, like shadow.
Shadows
that flicker and fade and lick the walls with tongues of shade that dance like shifting veils
above her the ceiling fan rotates a lofty breeze that drifts down humble and soft and kisses her skin with a promise of chill air.
Shadows
that rise and fall, rise and fall like the claws of ancient gods or the boughs of banished trees or the fingers of spectral lovers
Fingers
that haunt her mind in vague whispers.
The sultry heat confines her movements to languid stretches and holds her lust in supine relief, naked and salacious she curls her lightly sweat covered frame around her hand and squeezes it between her amorous thighs like a victim of a constrictor.
The fan throbs a tuneless rhythm, a pulsing ache that beats a singular motif of nebbish tepidity.
Hypnotic
it calls to her
in sounds of sultry saxophone blues
it calls to her.
And with thighs spreading like lotus blossom she receives the thief of her fingers that steal in snake like stages down her belly and through the grove of her lurid growth.
Raindrops grow
and over the mound of her pensive vulva that tingles with urgent expectancy her hand slides into dark contours and her thumb trails a pink fold.
Shadows rise
and she peels the fruit of herself with a delicate prising and with urgent probes releases the winged demons to burn her with carnal avidity that ravish her being.
The blade throbs. The raindrops fall; a sweet scent of orchids from bruised lips.

.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

The summer sun does more than just bring out the girls in their summer frocks. It somehow lifts the spirits and make you feel, along with a little hot around the neck, all the better for its presence. I sat today, having bussed into Southend-on-Sea, on a snazzy chromium bench over-looking the estuary. A couple of miles further east lies Leigh-on-Sea where offshore stands a tall concrete post. This post is officially where the sea turns from salt into fresh water for it is here where the Thames begins its turgid journey west through London and then passes on through Oxford.

The bench and the pavement it stands on are relatively new and give the image of being from the Mediterranean. The paved area has that same pale concrete glow that reflects sunshine so well. People buzz about with less haste today like bees steadily making their way from one honey pot to another but without the usual cut and thrust haste that big towns normally have.

Below me is the renowned pier, the longest in the world, which thrusts out like a spear into the estuary. One either side of the boardwalk are the pleasure playgrounds that once were the main attraction that pulled East Enders here during the Victorian era right into the sixties. The Cockney’s have mostly left the East End and settled here and in Kent and in Hertfordshire and perhaps the wealthier ones in Surrey, some of their saucy ways remain though.

“How’s it going my son?” says a chap in singlet and wearing a fedora to another chap on a bike. The shake hands without either of them stopping. I feel I can hear Blurs “Parklife” playing. It could be Phil Daniels and Damon Albarn. It isn’t though. Phil Jupitus does live near here though and I have often seen him wandering around.

I need in future to bring a hat. Blokes with receding hairlines burn easy and I can feel that heat cooking my forehead. I sit patiently awaiting the call on my mobile from Tweezil. She has had the day off and wants to meet-up. Having done all that needed doing I agreed.

I make my way through the crowds that throng the High Street. An obnoxious oaf muscles by all foul mouth and beer belly tucked inside and indecent singlet. An older couple tut tut at his vile tongue. The dog that they walk doesn’t give a fig for the man’s bad manner for he has smelt a lot of lampposts this day already.

Perhaps it is the parent in me but I know Tweezil has arrived long before the mobile rings. I see her, stand up, raise my arm and wave. We embrace, hug then kiss then, just like she were six again instead of twenty we walk off hand in hand. I know I am being led to the nearest clothes store but what do I care?

.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

I know it’s a cliché but where are we being herded with our lives? I don’t recall, in my lifetime at any rate, any one of our so called leaders showing any form of vision. If anything there has been a singular lack of pro-action and a hell of a lot of reaction. I cannot speak for America or Europe nor for any other country in the world but where have all the British visionary’s gone?


Once railway lines crossed linked Britain; it was the best of ways not only to travel but also to carry and deliver goods. The roads were empty of Lorries leaving them free for cars. Then Richard Beeching closed down all the branch lines. There are places where you can still see where the railways once ran, conspicuous by the steep banks that straddle the roads that have replaced the tracks. This illustrates the failure of vision from those we elect to govern our country. It was a damning statement of gross stupidity then and remains so to this day. The reason behind the thinking was as simple as suicide but so much easier to perform. The regressive government(s) wanted to save money. This they did but in so doing cost the livelihoods of 67,000 British Rail workers. Britain lost 2,128 stations and a multitude of branch lines.

Here we Brits are in the 21st century scratching our heads at ways to protect the environment when all could have been so easily done had the railway lines still existed. Even now this island nation would be well served were we to re-build the lines that once linked village to town to city. As a group of nations living in close proximity to each other the idea of having a web of railway tracks spanning the countryside may seem paradoxically unappealing but also tempting.

Why did we remove such a glorious and practical method of transport? We thought we should modernise, keep up with America and Europe but we are neither American nor European we are British and by that I mean of Briton, the ancient isles that the Roman’s named when the conquered us. We are very distinctly a set of island nations: small in miles but still able to trade with our American and European cousins without having to emulate them to our detriment.

And what ever happened to the Commonwealth? It is still a vibrant collection of nations united by one common cause; the betterment of its citizens. Why on earth did we not, having got rid of the vile Empire, engage more closely with the likes of India, Australia and Canada? We have/had a shared history that is probably as great if not greater than the one we have with the United States.

All of this comes from that single lack of foresight.

I don’t remember Clement Attlee. He was a little before my time but did Macmillan have an image of how Britain should be after the war? Perhaps but if he did he didn’t realise it. Neither did Wilson or Heath, not even that imperial war galleon who revitalised our economy, Margaret Thatcher. What did that woman ever do for Britain? Well, some might say, she saved the economy and made us wealthy again. Did she though? Did she make the Scott’s and Welsh wealthy? No, she did not. Did she rescue the North of England from the doldrums it had slipped into? No, she did not. What she did was make people, the likes of me, who live in the privileged South, South East comfortable. That isn’t vision that is self-proclaiming, self-indulgent, self- preservation. And what of Blair and his current offspring Cameron, Clegg and Co.? Well, exactly, what of them? Here we are again with not two pennies to rub together

Where are the artisans and apprentices? Where are the craftsmen and tradesmen? Gone like so many others as we have chased modernity, of which I am very grateful to in many aspects, without having the insight to notice not all that is modern is good.

.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

In the past I have often gone on about, in a very sorry for myself sort of way, the ups and downs of my working life. It gets boring in the end and serves no purpose to either my readers or myself. In reality it was just me trying to patch up my bruised ego. No more of that then, no more whinging but the thing that does intrigue me is the way some folks have mixed myth with truth to blot my character even further. Yes, I have had a number of jobs and I was led to believe that was a praiseworthy thing for when you have been made redundant or sacked you need to get up off your arse and find work. For me this has often meant any kind of work, even jobs that I have had no experience in. I got into sales having never done such a thing in my life. I met with some success and then some failure. I walked away from one job having told the new owners of the company I had worked at that their newly re-named enterprise was like a delicious looking apple that once bitten into is riddled with maggots. I left behind a successful career and went to a company I couldn’t stand. Yes, sometimes my heart did rule my head. Sometimes though it takes a man a hell of a while to grow up, with me it took until my fifties by which time my career was on the skids and no one would look at, let alone touch, me.
I am wilful, I was wayward but I have always been loyal to those I like and hardworking at anything I have undertaken. I am also resolute and indomitable as my pursuit of being published has proven. I will not give up.

I have received even more E-mails from ex-client which really does affect the emotions. Having been told by my last employer that I was not liked by the client at all this spate of well-wishing disproves that lie altogether. I think Red Astaire must have literally meant ‘a client doesn’t like you’ as in the singular and not the plural as so far the evidence proves the contrary. I think the truth has more to do with the losses I was making, the errors committed. Of course that in itself neglects to give the whole picture; I had, ever since October of last year, repeatedly requested greater support. And when it arrived it was still not properly applied.

The books continue to sell but slowly. The job search remains frustrating. Today I have applied for three jobs and also three yesterday. This afternoon I shall be gardening for someone else so the little they give me will be greatly appreciated.

.
.
.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?