The Wayward Ways of Russell 'C.J' Duffy

2012-02-16T15:55:00.001Z

I have just realised what it says on this blog. It states, beneath all the gumph I have written in my profile that not only am I the author of The Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry, a series of six books, but more that these very books are all to be published in 2012. Really? Three are complete with a spin off novel also finished but this means I have another three to write before years end. I guess I had better get my bottom into gear as that is one hell of a tall order. Even more now as I have started another two spins off but only have the first 8,000 words of book four written. Oh heck!

I feel less like an author of literary novels and more like a writer of comic books or perhaps pulp fiction. My work, (self-aggrandisement here) is largely pumped out. It is nothing like the art of Kiran Desai or Haruki Murakami whom I imagine work at a far slower pace and with a lot more consideration and talent. Jimbob was saying the other day how Agatha Christie used to ‘knock out’ several books a year. Not dismissing her ability by suggesting she factory produced them but in a manner of speaking she was much like the great Will Eisner who literally did work a production line when producing comics like The Spirit. I understand that method; perhaps because of the working class way my parents looked upon life. You work hard and you produce. The product then pays the bills. It sounds less worthy than art but its ethic is just as pure if not so altruistic.

I really enjoy doing what I am. Writing can be a chore at times especially when the blank page stares back but those moments of page or window gazing are compensated by the enormous sense of fun and joy at being able to create fantastic worlds that spin, once complete, out of your control into other readers orbits. The characters too take on a life of their own which seems odd but rewarding. I take on board al that Don and others have said. My characters need to develop and that is something I am doing. I hope it all works out and that I can clamber off of this corporate wheel.

The modern world has gone one stage too far in its desire for wealth and for making profit. The system now forgets the reason it was created in the first place. Paramount has to be keeping people in work. The criteria should be the people and not the system created to support them. We contribute with our efforts for which we are rewarded. We then pay taxes which in turn should be invested into educating and protecting us. Currently industry grinds on oblivious to human need as it now supports and engineers it search for ever greater profit. We need profit, we need that entrepreneurial spirit but not when the machine we have created gets bigger than the people it was designed to support.

I will keep my dream. It is not just a dream of being published. It is far greater and hopefully more noble than my desire to be an author. We will have to wait and see what happens but the writing is still integral to all my foolish dreams.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-15T20:56:00.002Z

Saw both my GP and the bankadvisor today. My heart is fine which comes as good news. I asked to see theDiabetic specialist which was also arranged. The bank meeting went well and theadvice given gratefully accepted. Business accounts are currently going freefor the first twelve months. There is no need to open one yet as only one ofthe books is ready to publish but once Jase has completed his part of theprocess then I will make another appointment. Managed to get to and from workand pop into Mum’s with my petrol gauge sliding down to empty. By the time Igot home it was beyond empty. Christ knows what I do tomorrow. Not sure if Iwill make it to a petrol station. At the weekend Jasmine bought two new tyresfrom a cheapo, cheapo place she found in a dingy part of Southchurch. Now wedon’t eat as a consequence. Currently eating custard creams along with somepears Mum bought. Together most foul. Work rises like a dragon. Fearful filled andbrimstone horrid. No way out but must not give up. Something will turn-up.Something has to. I scare myself sometimes thinking of how I will have toshortly tell Squid we have lost the home. It is all very well and good forpeople to talk in platitudes about a house not being a home, about bricks andmortar being just the place you live butyou cannot erase twenty seven years so easily. All those Christmases,birthdays, anniversaries, parties, meals, friends over; the great weight oftimes most happy. You cannot forget those moments. I must crack on. Must getpublished. Must look for another job nearer to home, one that doesn’t cost £120a week in petrol. If I could find a job locally I could walk to work or catch abus for £3.50 rover a day. I looked at Southend Airport but nothing there, novacancies that suit. My bold bullshit holds a good front but the façade iscrumbling now. Counting down the days of my expected demise. If the figures areright and my life expectancy is 25% less than the average person, taking intocount the lifespans of my immediate forebears then I only have seven years leftof this fucking nightmare. Good job. At least Dad’s team are top of theChampionship. He must be chuckling his claret and blue socks off now. How Imiss him, miss his common sense. Why doesn’t all the good get passed on fromfather to son? I have enough bad bits for a whole friggin’ family. Must crackon. Mark sent me his addition to the EB cover. Looks good.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Evenings Advent

2012-02-14T16:37:00.002Z

Self-pity writhes in cobra confidence stealing thief like around my heart.

Each day fills the hours with a sense of foreboding,

Of dread and loathing for another evening spent TV captive.

Dickens was cold comfort wrapped in a history as grim as the London fogs.

At least Douglas Adams had the skill to be silly and witty and

So I read his Hitch Hikers Guide for the first time laughing like it was the last.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Propaganda

2012-02-14T13:35:00.003Z

Hatred flows like water across rusting tins.

A bitter wind blows a chilling breath.

What was all now turns to corrosion.

A broken doll cries a fractured song.

Propaganda

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-13T17:34:00.000Z

I was saddened to hear of Whitney Houston’s death; never my kind of music but what an incredible talent she had, what a voice. So many have gone the same way but no lessons are learnt from these tragic deaths. It makes you wonder if the search for fame, that desire to be recognised the world over is nothing less than madness. I often dream of my books earning me a fortune but having loads of money is one thing I could cope with: fame is not. I cannot conceive of having people approach me whilst I am shopping in Waitrose. I couldn’t bear to be sitting in a restaurant and have someone ask for my autograph. I wouldn’t know how to handle such notoriety. I may even behave badly if I felt cornered. To die at 48 is awful enough but to wilfully waste such talent, especially when you think that so many people never have the security that wealth offers, is almost criminal. I guess she is at peace now.

I took a look at the football results and was amazed at how the Premiership is shaping up. In reality there are only two clubs in contention and really only one that seems reasonably consistent. Good to see Spurs in third place but even better to see Dad’s Hammers at the top of the Championship. Dad must be doing his bit wherever he now is.

The thought of the disciplinary meeting now re-scheduled for the 21st seems less important than it did. Of the two errors, large mistakes both, one I am confident I can prove was not my fault alone. The other I can’t as it was my mistake and mine alone. I will fight the first one tooth and nail and have enough evidence to feel supremely confident. Not so with the other one. I also have one or two bombs of my own to drop that could, and will, greatly embarrass the company I work for. Not that I particulary want to do that. Nowadays both parties have the ability to hold each other to task when there is a breach in the contract and this time it is not me who has broken a confidence..

I have booked an appointment to see a bank advisor regarding my opening an account in my own name. Although I/we have a shared account neither of us have individual ones. Perhaps she has but not that I am aware. The only reason I want to keep things separate is so that any money, should I be so lucky to make some, will be kept safe away from the danger of being spent so that I can then pay off any and all debts. The thought alone makes me feel remarkably relaxed. I must crack on with my plan.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-12T18:37:00.001Z

I awoke early feeling far morepositive than I have of late. I managed to get two loads of washing on and twointo the tumble dryer before anyone woke. Jasmine came down and seemed happyenough then went out. I started work on ‘Hand In Glove.’ I am very pleased withit so far and have a mad enough plot to work from. It will be sort of likeWoody Allen’s ‘Vicky Christina Barcelona’ meets ‘Poirot’ but with the usual ‘CarryOn’ silliness. I may have to drop the latter as it may not work in thisinstance.

Again went to see Mum. Had tochange her which is demeaning for her and unpleasant for me. She keepsapologising but doesn’t need to. Not sure who would do it for me when I getold. I passionately think Townsend was right certainly as far as I amconcerned.

Here is Jimbob's dog Cookie showing how he has the worlds largest tongue...

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-11T18:28:00.000Z

Saturday. Managed to clean mostof the house and get a large lump of ironing done too. Very gratifying to seethe results. Obviously not enough for some but good enough for me. With nomoney now whatsoever I am unable to go far so getting out to Town is simply ano go. Mum is improving but continues to want help. I think, as kindly as I can,that this is lack of confidence.

So many hours too waste and solittle ways to spend them. I have to grit my teeth and get on with it. Recentevents at work have me concerned. A possible written warning looms but I thinkI can win that battle even if another will follow. Silly mistakes that I shouldhave known better not to make but I am forever the risk taker. Trouble is I nolonger am the much sought after commodity I once was. Getting another job nowis far harder than it was five years ago.

Determined to find some spiritualpath, some way out of the darkness that seems to be enveloping me I triedmeditating today. It has been years since I have but today I had a go. I fellasleep.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-10T18:18:00.000Z

The days form slowly but spin by all too soon. I get up; do 90 or so press-ups followed by 60 bar bell exercises. I am still nothing like Arnie. I shower but only shave each other day. I am the only 57 year old whose whiskers have not reached puberty – they grow grey and slow. Breakfast arrives each day in a cereal bowl accompanied by a cup of tea. I dress then wait for Thumbscrew who I drive to Hockley station. Why Hockley when it is further away than Rochford? Goodness knows and I haven’t asked.

The journey to work takes anything from 2 to 3 hours and each day I thank the gods for radio, especially Radio 3 and Radio 4 who I now listen to more and more. Today I listened, briefly, to Chris Evans on Radio 2. He has really pulled himself and the Breakfast Show into shape. I think it now attracts an even bigger audience than old Wogan used to get - . Amazing - All pretty ‘biubble gum for the ears’ type stuff but refreshingly all-encompassing in that it caters for old farts like me and even older but also for children.

It hadn’t snowed at home last night but obviously had at work. A fresh coverlet had fallen over the existing snow making the roads underneath treacherous. I crunched along the path sliding about like a giraffe on grease.

I spent last evening working on ‘Hand In Glove’ then did my first amends to London Chronicles. I always felt that Dave’s incredible images not only complimented my words on the first two chapbooks/chapters that they effectively outshone my words. I only altered two lines to include a nod to my ancestors from Wapping. Two years later the book is no nearer to being finished which I find both frustrating and sad. I love Fekenham but the ‘Wilful Walks’ had more to them than just a rom-com type feel. I had so wanted to get London Chronicles published before moving onto the Camelot concept. Ah, well.

Work is mundane, repetitive and dull. I try to put it to the back of my mind and plough on. It doesn’t always work though as work stuff simply won’t go away.

Mum seems, albeit slowly, to be recovering. She still finds it difficult to get out of bed or up from her living room chair but as I keep reminding her, slow steps, one at a time. She’ll get there. Jasmine goes into see her every morning and I do the same at night. Now she has two carers she should find mobility a lot easier. She does get down in the dumps sometimes but then again, so do I.

In my mind I see the future taking two possible roads. One is grim filled with loneliness and grief. The other is more positive but exists in the dream scape of my little mind. In truth I have little faith in my writing lasting for years, for my being able to create book after book after book. I do think they have commercial appeal but I am not sure that I am capable of repeating the success of Christie or Wodehouse. If they did make me money I would invest it in other businesses.

Dreading tomorrow - weekends are like the song by Morrissey, grey.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-09T17:02:00.002Z

Snow still covers the grounds at work. White and crisp it spreads across the fields and along the edges of the road piled into neat drifts by the works snow plough. The glass edifice sits up like a Winter Witches palace all brittle reflection. Kate Bush sums snow up best:

whiteout

blackbird braille

Wenceslasaire

avalanche

swans-a-melting

deamondi-pavlova

eiderfalls

Santanyeroofdikov

stellatundra

hunter's dream

faloop'njoompoola

zebranivem

spangladasha

albadune

hironocrashka

hooded-wept

phlegm de neige

mountainsob

anklebreaker

erase-o-dust

shnamistoflopp'n

terrablizza

whirlissimo

vanilla swarm

icyskidski

robber's veil

creaky-creaky

psychohail

whippoccino

shimmerglisten

Zhivagodamarbletash

sorbetdeluge

sleetspoot'n

melt-o-blast

slipperella

boomerangablanca

groundberry down

meringuerpeaks

crème-bouffant

peDtaH 'ej chIS qo'

deep'nhidden

bad for trains

shovelcrusted

anechoic

blown from polar fur

vanishing world

mistraldespair

She does have a way with words doesn’t she? Imaginative and amusing too much like the lady herself.

Last night I arrived at Mum’s to find she hadn’t had her third visit of the day and consequently nothing to eat for tea. I felt furious. I asked her is she wanted me to get her anything or cook anything but she declined the offer. She has been sleeping in her reclining chair but last night the thing broke and she had to call John Lee to help her get up. It must have been very embarrassing for her. I left after chatting for a while instructing her to phone me by 2100 if no one turned up for the final night time visit. When I got home I had a bit of dinner, pasta and sauce then sat down to watch a film. At 21.49 the phone rang. It was Mum. No one had turned up to put her to bed so I drove over and did the job myself. I felt both cross and hurt. I always defend the NHS but this was unforgivable. When I arrived back home the phone rang again. Apparently, there had been a ‘mix-up.’ For sure there had but now I want to know what kind and I want assurances it won’t happen again.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-08T13:58:00.002Z

Jason is cracking along nicely with the cover artwork. He sent this through last night. Next will be the colour version. Good to see Arthur Bentwhistle with a bald head!

Really pleased with the way "Something for the Weekend, Sir?" is going with lots of good stuff by both Michael and myself. I have disciplined myself on that blog to write 500 words for each article. It is hard to do but worth the effort as it keeps things concise and focused. It's a shame that Roger, the real writing pro, doesn't do more but life is for living I guess and not all of us want to be blogging all the time.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-07T12:58:00.002Z

This from Lee, my colleague at work...

Marsden March

Marsden March On Sunday 11th March, I will be taking part in the 14 mile walk from the Royal Marsden in Chelsea to the Royal Marsden in Sutton. My incentive for doing this is driven by the devastating death of my very loving mother-in-law, Valerie Barrett, in May 2011, who was suffering from Oesophagus Cancer and treated by the Sutton Royal Marsden. Sadly, since getting involved with the Marsden March and within the last month, my work colleague at Pfizer Walton Oaks, Pauline O’Callaghan, also passed away as a result of Liver Cancer. I know many people in Walton Oaks worked with Pauline and have very fond memories of this lovely lady, who always had time for others. Given these tragic events in the past year, I decided that it was time to get off of my fat back side and do something to help fight this disease, so on the 11th March I will be walking the 14 miles for the Royal Marsden Cancer Charity and I really hope that you will be able to help with a small donation towards the cause. You can donate easily through the link below: www.Justgiving.com/Samantha-martin4 ..
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-06T20:50:00.000Z

The weekend went west before it even got started. Saturday morning at the 3 the phone beside my bed rang. It was Mum. All she said was she needed me. I got up, dressed and flew out the door. I was there within twenty minutes. She needed the loo but couldn’t get out of bed as her legs are still too weak. I had to lift and eight stone something woman up with one arm whilst the other struggled to get a portable toilet/receptacle beneath her. I was very undignified for her and not the sort of thing a son would want to do for his mother.

I got home at a little before four AM so not to long spent out of bed. Later, after lying in a bit, Squid and I went to see Mum. Ron and Audrey were there. They washed her hair which made her look a lot better even if she still seems depressed.

There had been the threat of snow as early as Friday but we Brits, forever fighting Armadas after they have sailed, tend to ignore such trifles and just get on with the battle when it arrives. The snow didn’t hit until late Saturday evening. It came down in large flakes that settled ominously as soon as it hit the ground. By the morning we had a foot of snow covering cars, roads and pavements. No big deal to countries that are used to having such inclement weather but as we seldom get such conditions it does come as a shock.

A woman from the carers who look after Mum rang to say they couldn’t get to Mum’s and that it would take one of them and hour to walk to where Mum lives. Together with Jasmine I cleared the drive removing the foot of snow from the car. The old Beetle struggled but finally made it onto the road. It took nearly an hour to get to Mum’s but get there I did. I stayed for the remainder of the day but without reading glasses or anything to occupy my time. I do not need TV for entertainment even though I do enjoy watching the telly. With Mum asleep for most of the day I went in search of a pad which I found in her writing desk. I then spent the rest of the day, when not cleaning up or fetching things for Mm in writing. I started a new novel. Another comic adventure romance featuring Hilary Leatherbarrow and a police detective called Adam Lazarus. I had previously thought about this project but did nothing much with it till now.

In my mind I had the rough notion for a plot so fleshed out all the detail writing down a synopsis for me to work from. I wrote two chapters, 3 and 4, which I no sounds daft but I wanted to get to the central characters first as I know, in my head, how the book starts. The book will be called ‘Hand in Glove’ and should be finished within a month or three given that I still have to complete book four in the Fekenham series.

Michael’s artwork for EB is completed and Jase is working on books one, two and three. I am getting there, albeit much slower that I first thought. I just hope I can get them published before they come for my house.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-05T22:57:00.000Z

Hindsight is a valuable gift even if it arrives belatedly. For 38 years I was the epitome of ;oyallty. In the last four less but in it is the last year where my credibility was ruined. The trouble is in not having the vision to be pro-active but in always reacting. I not only react, I over react. In the last year this blog has shown me to be reacting to situations and things discovered in a self absorbed, self pitying way. There is nothing I can do about it now. The cat, in part and with so much still unsaid, is out of the bag.

When you write an online journal, a blog, that claims to tell the truth, to be frank and honest then it should be done so that ALL truths are shown and not just a censored portion. My failing was to tell only a small part of the truth. There is so much more to reveal but I won’t be doing so, not now, not ever. Perhaps I should have said it all then but I am glad I didn’t. If I had maybe it would have made more sense, given some balance to what I revealed. Now I am left appearing as a ‘kiss and tell’ merchant.

Reaction is caused by hurt. The hurt caused in no small part by me. I am not going to bang on about my so called ‘breakdown as it was only ever self-diagnosed with a blunt refusal on my part to seek or listen to medical advice. Apparently diabetics suffer from mood swings but then again ‘they’ blame all that ails a diabetic on their condition. Whatever it was it played a huge part in destroying my relationship but still that is not the whole picture.

The problem with hurt is that too often it is self-perceived. You think the worst and believe it to be more than what it really is. I will never know. The thing, the someone who gave vent for that side of things to be such a malignance has gone. Maybe I was guilty of accepting the hurt but not the responsibility for the action taken. Every action has an opposite reaction. If I had behaved differently maybe things wouldn’t have happened as they did.

My desire for forgiveness met with a flat, dull response. You can forgive anyone but not yourself. I, a little self-righteously, shuffled off all guilt and past it back whilst pointing the finger in accusation. I was wrong. There is so much unsaid in my bogus diary entries of last year. No one knows the real truth and no one ever will. Loyalty, and this goes both ways, once broken, is hard to repair. All I can do now is to make that change.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-04T21:41:00.000Z

High praise indeed from my Mum who has singled Jimbob Badfinger out for his kindness to her of late. That handsome son of mine, as pictured here, whilst on skiing holiday a couple of weeks ago. He and his friend took one week off to have some fun in the snow. Looks bloody freezing to me!

2012-02-03T12:21:00.000Z

Jason's first rough sketch. It gives Fekenham a splendid quirky feel. I am very pleased with it.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-02T22:34:00.000Z

It has been cold these past few days, cold but bright: such beauty in glittering tones and shades. The wonder of winter has accompanied me as I have listened to Kate Bush’s most recent album “50 Words for Snow.” The music is, as one would expect, invigorating, challenging, dark and wonderful much like the season it was written for.

Mum came home last night arriving to be greeted by Jimbob at a little after eight. I followed shortly after. We sat with her as she shivered in her armchair waiting for the arrival of the two careers who have been appointed to look after her. She is nervous about the prospect but mostly concerned as her legs still don’t seem to be working. I hope this move is the right one for her.

Modern times has led us to embrace an ethic that Muslims and Hindu’s have long carried out – family taking care of family. I think this is right. Too often we flee when faced with the onset of a loved one’s age as it means taking responsibility for those who supported us when we were young. We looked after my Aunt as she slipped into senility and also my Mother-in-law as cancer took her life. Fortunately, I have children, not lone wolves like their father, who take that responsibility seriously. Jimbob has been incredible as has Tweezil and Jasmine too even with the mutual dislike shared between daughter and mother-in-law. Of course this new way of encouraging to act morally and responsibly has a deeper raison d'être. It lessens the financial burden to the NHS. Nothing is altruistic in this world.

Thumbscrew has earned more money than I ever have - £80,000 in a year. The fact she has fills me with pride but I still question how the NHS can train people only for them to leave before returning as Locums. What on earth is that all about?

Recently, artist David Hockney turned his ingenious hand to painting landscapes. This may not seem a particularly innovative move but I find it rather exciting. Leaving aside all the wonderful art we have seen in recent decades the art world seems to remain faithful to producing modern art with a capital M. Not that I mind but landscape, with its reflective presentation of nature’s wonder has been largely overlooked. I was trying some while back to persuade a friend he should extend his business core from being a creative design agency to include his wonderful portrait paintings. It struck me that people pay, often for vanity purposes, a good deal of money to have their family captured on canvas. More recently still, whilst looking at John Keane’s work and mulling over Hockney’s dazzling move, I took a look at said friends flickr site and was struck by how imaginative his eye is but also how he should focus on producing (painting) more landscapes. Landscape painting has been much maligned. It needs to make a comeback; a return to favour and I think it will.

The Fekenham novels are delayed and people I had contacted are asking me why. I tell them the truth. Not my take on what I think the truth to be but the reality. It is a bloody inconvenience but nothing more than that. With luck, and by years end, I should have not only the first four published but a further two. It would be nice if I could complete the first series by Yuletide 2012 but I am not sure I am capable.

Michael sent me the first two drafts of the EB cover. Both were fantastic but this I like a lot...

Pauline's funeral is on the 17.02.12. She wants no flowers but instead a contribution to the charity of her choice. I will be going both as a friend as a representative of Admin Deviant Anal Retentive Executives.

Todays album of choice is: "50 Words For Snow" by Kate Bush

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-02-01T21:47:00.000Z

Mum came home today following a pantomime of NHS buffoonery. I love the NHS, I owe it my life and on more than one occasion too but their admin side couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. No clothes for her to go home in so I had to take them in first thing this morning. The medical equipment meant to assist her (commode, walking frame, special shower seat) were delivered to her bungalow without notification and without anyone being there only for the whole shebang to be taken back again. A note was left stating no one was there when the delivery attempt was made. Of course no one was there…Mum lives alone and she was in hospital at the time. Jamie has fitted the secure key box outside Mum’s front door. Jasmine has bought enough food stuff to last Mum a week or more. Grace can’t get there at the moment as she still has a cold. Personally, as much as I hate sitting with other sick people in a ward full of moaning Monty’s, I think the boredom and loneliness will get to Mum. Last time I was in hospital I used to sneak out either to the restaurant or to the local Tesco which was about a mile from the hospital ground. Mum won’t be able to BUT it may just give her enough of an impetus to get out of her bedroom and walk to the kitchen or the living room.

I dropped the clothes off to the ward front desk this morning leaving them with a nurse. I then shot off down the A13 but at the arse end near Benfleet only to sit in traffic for one hour and ten minutes. To sit for that length of time over a distance of four miles is unbelievably frustrating. At one time an ambulance, lights flashing and siren screaming, came from behind me. I moved to one side. Cars in front didn’t. I really don’t have panic attacks as I used to anymore. No more stupid concerns over drinking a glass of water but today, as the dull witted imbeciles sat stony still in their cars I felt the same incredible sweats break out as if a furnace had been lit within me. I shouted out all manner of profanities and opened the car door to have a go at the lot of them but seeing the look on the driver to one side of me returned to my car weeping like a fool. I composed myself and then had the embarrassment of having to poodle along beside the same driver for miles. It has got better but moments like that, or even the death of someone of my parents’ generation makes me cry. Weird and scary how fragile the human mind is.

No longer part of my daily routine as it once was but today I was taken out to lunch by a supplier. When I say the ‘Royal I’ what I mean is Chris, Brian and me the peasant from Essex. We went to a local Surrey pub. I have eaten there before and have to say the cuisine is fantastic. We all had a laugh which makes such a pleasant change after all the crap we normally get.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-31T23:59:00.000Z

I am sick and tired of having a staple diet of biscuits, digestives to be precise. Unable to buy or afford anything else and having to maintain a steady carbohydrate level the only form of food I eat throughout the day are digestives, two at ten, two at lunch two again at four. When Mum was better she would buy me pears that supplemented my diet. I now have to ensure I drink lots otherwise the old bowels cease to function and brick production from my rear is not a viable money spinning option.

Being broke is no joke.

Some weeks we only eat vegetables on a Sunday. The need to make extra money grows all the time. Jasmine being out of work for three months didn’t help. Thank goodness she is working again now.

My shoulders still ache but I still did my routine press-ups this morning. Not the usual 100 but a conservative 60. Also some curls. Chest looking better than it did three months ago when I started as are my arms. I will never be, nor do I want to be, a Charles Atlas type but at least I no longer have bat wings!

Jase and Michael are beavering away. Jase will get back to me by Thursday with some visuals and Michael too although probably not the same day. After this comes the horror of uploading to Kindle. I only hope I am able to understand all that needs doing.

With all this activity I need to concentrate, to focus on one thing at a time. Of the remaining Fekenham novels in series one there are three to go. Two of them have been started as have two ‘spin offs.’

The London Chronicles which Dave and I have been working on has ground to a halt, hopefully not a permanent state of affairs. We started them in 2010 and have only four complete. I have written nearly all the remaining chapters but with the lengthy pause they all need revising and amending. Irritating as Paul has edited just under half of them and will have to go through the same process again. In all honour I should pay him for every minute he spends editing even if the delay is not my fault. This is something to note for when Utility Fish Shed Limited is incorporated as then all transactions will have to be paid for and all my financial accounts will need to balance. Time is money.

Much of ‘The Wilful walks of Russell Duffy – London’ will need rewriting to incorporate the more spiritual aspects that were originally missed first time around. I feel I should make mention in the first chapter of why I start at Wapping; that the London walks are, in part, a pilgrimage and homage to my roots. I had thought to continue with Mark Scammell once Dave had concluded his Eastend chapters but in truth would rather have had Dave do the lot, the whole book. This may not now be possible. Mark was meant to have contacted me during the Christmas break. He didn’t. Dave is in a sulk and has probably fed the whole shebang to Milo his cat. Hopefully not but if he has then I will have to dig deep and find someone else, much as I loathe the thought, who can, if not match his unique style, create something that carries my words with their images.

Today Jimbob Badfinger has been working at my Mum’s, preparing for her home coming by fixing a key box with security code to outside her front door. This will enable the nurses and welfare people gain access without having to get Mum make the painful walk from her bed to the front door. Grace was meant to be going in as well but cancelled as she has a cold. Fortunately, Mum’s coming home tomorrow means that hospital visits will stop. This will cut out the small fortune we have been spending on car parking fees. At £2.50 an hour, especially at weekends, we have been spending up to £10 a day.

My reading has pretty much ground to a halt. Dickens’ book is still unfinished and I have all those other books given as gifts at Christmas to me. I still have only heard a small part of the ‘music man’ Paul sent me. Some good stuff on there too.

PS. I now realise why he is so angry. He sees the expression “dragging his feet” as a pejorative. He thinks I was pointing the finger of blame at him rather than me just stating the simple fact he was unable to do any work on the project. My loose expression has thrown him of balance thinking I am slagging him off. It's okay for men to call each other 'See you next Tuesday's' but not use the term 'dragging feet.'

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. all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-30T11:30:00.000Z

Mum continues to improve. She is now able to get out of the hospital bed and with the use of a Zimmer frame walk to the ward toilet. It is an effort but her determination to get better motivates her. The latest update is that she will be able to go home Wednesday. She will need help and fortunately Jamie will be there. Failing that Grace will be there. When the shit hits the fan my beautiful family, with all the crap they have had to face in recent years, are as tight and united as the best families are.

I will be so glad when Mum goes home. The trouble with being in hospital is that you exist whilst there in a sort of vacuum. Conversations are hard as she hasn’t been able to gather any news apart from what’s going on in her immediate vicinity.

Since the unfortunate business with Dave and the anon 1 and anon 2 comments, I have changed this ‘journal’ into the ‘blog’ it really is. I had been writing it as a daily diary and dairies are by their nature revealing. Honesty is fine but not if it gives the wrong impression to those who mean nothing to me. My family mean everything. They are what keep me going as other relationships fail. My reason for being so forthright here about my marriage when I am anything but when met in the flesh, is because I hoped, prayed, in some reverse wishful thinking way, that by being so candid should things improve then I could say, with pride and pleasure “see, forty years on and WE are back.” Sadly, it’s not going to happen.

Michael misunderstood my request for him to produce the EB cover. He said he is able to hit the (now) March schedule but with all four books! LOL. I don’t want all four from him just the one. He is happy with that. I had forgotten he does this sort of thing for a living and although no more gifted than Dave is probably more used to working this way.

I now need to get back to Jase and give him a proper brief. He seems very ‘up’ for it. I still need to see if he is able to produce the inner illustrations. That is very much a ‘Mac Monkey’s’ role. Trouble is Dave had done such a splendid job with those that it will be hard to follow. Still, Jase, like Michael, produces book covers for a living so again is used to working with prickly old sods like me! Obviously, the deadline for publishing to Kindle has moved but then again I had already said it might to Dave. This sounds odd as I had started to (foolishly) panic about the looming Feb deadline but it was always on the cards this might happen, that is might have to be pushed back to March. Ironic that Dave and I should fall out over something we had agreed to in the first place. Que sera.

I spent yesterday morning cutting up tree limbs into logs. This from the time when Jimbob and I dropped the bloody branch through next doors fence panel! I enjoyed the exercise even though it was hard work. I think I may have the beginnings of Arthritis as my shoulders really hurt when I had finished. This is not the first time this has happened. Still, there are far worse things to worry about. My right foot always hurts whenever I go for long walks. I just pop some pain killers and hey presto! I will have to do some more next week as there is still one unholy mess in the garden.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-29T14:23:00.000Z

This is it. Day one. The first day of many. The farewell to the past. The grand hello to the now. This blog is seven years old. This blog is one day new. History fades with memory. Today cleanses all. Words fall like leaves. Once they left bruises now they turn to ruin. My life is now, today. One day at a time.

I recall my heart attack in 2004. It was my fiftieth birthday. Love had turned to rust. Expressions of affection rang false. Words of apology turned to ash in my mouth. Recrimination is pointless, draining. Where once there was hurt there now is a lesson learnt. I am still learning and still making mistakes. Emily, her face tear stained, imploring me to fight it. Nurses and Doctors floating like mist behind a glass wall. Morphine bleached the pain and persuaded Morpheus to release sleep.

I remember the following year, 2005. It was close to Christmas. Jamie and I in a car, me crying. Desperately trying to hold it together in front of my son. Failing miserably. My world had collapsed into panic and all I was capable of was pacing the floor wrapped in a duvet. Depression was a gift for the weak or so I thought. The panic attacks were depressions foot soldiers. My confidence had evaporated. I couldn’t function. I still don’t, not fully. It lasted for eight long years and probably began a lot earlier than I care to admit. My confidence is still an issue. Much easier to blame others than accept responsibility.

I am the stereotypical lone wolf. In my case this is not a cliché. I dislike crowds and always have. I don’t do arenas. I do not understand football fans. The instinct of the pack animal is lost on me even if I do like other peoples company. I love with a passion but not without reserve. I have never hated anyone unless it is my self.

Self pitying? I am too angry for that even though my anger is with me. I seek for solace, for peace, for love and for an end to this vile war with myself that hurts those around me.

In love I have only ever loved once. ‘Arjay are one as one within me, like sun to sky, like leaf to tree.’ Love is fickle like friendship. It waxes and wanes. It has a fragile ego. I have witnessed three suicide attempts and each time my heart has hurt. I stood at the foor of a hospital bed like a stranger in a dream. Watched reluctantly as my pathetic nature with its remorseless fear and self loathing ran riot and roughshod over those near to me.

Diazepam curls you into a small ball that settles snuggly into the palm of Dream It is a sneak thief who robs you of any true ability to deal with the real issues. I threw the contents of the bottle down the toilet then pulled the chain. The savage mood swings continue. Sudden panic still erupts.

This is it. Day one. Onwards, forever onwards.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-28T14:13:00.000Z

After so many upsets, delays andobstacles thrown in the way of my getting published here is yet another.Without clarification or opportunity to apologise Dave has elected not toillustrate my books. From a diary entry I made of which he took exception andwithout speaking to me first or allowing me to explain, he, acting as bothjudge and jury has found me guilty and passed sentence. In fairness he had apoint the entry could easily be misconstrued but nonetheless it was neverintended to cause hurt or offence but was my fears given to black and white. All artwork has been thrown away. He now willnot be working on the Fekenham books. Not my choice though.

I have done a great many foolishthings in my time and perhaps this in another but to throw away the artworklike some petulant child without knowing the full truth or having the courtesyto confront me is, in light of my situation, unforgivable.

Imagine a lover finding a notethat says “Saw Fred last night. Had a great time with him. He is such asmoothie. He kissed me goodnight under the street light then told me he lovedme.” The partner reads this and thinks the worse then files for divorce. Itlater transpires that she doesn’t love Fred and the kiss was a peck on thecheek.

I feel angry because A, I havescrewed up but B because I know I would have communicated my hurt had thesituation been reversed. I wouldn’t have simply thought the worse withoutfinding out first. What really annoys me is the self-indulgent blind leap tothe wrong conclusion. The negligent lack of balance in judging me withoutestablishing why I had done it or allowing me to put it right. Christ evennational newspapers make formal apologies.. The wilful forgetting of how I havetried to help when he has faced hardship.

Yes, with hindsight I was wrongbut if the situation were reversed I would have talked things over first.

I don’t make friends easily butwhen I do it is for life, through thick and thin. The one lesson learnt here isthat this is not a diary, it is a blog and anyone can and patently does readit. That will change.

Losing someone through death isbad enough but losing a friend over something like this is beyond sad.

I will recover. I always do andas an only child perhaps too selfish and too focused for my own good.

Michael has offered to do thecovers but as a collage. Cheryl too has put my name forward to a group ofartists. Onwards, ever onwards.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-27T12:16:00.001Z

Death and its proximity encourage you to review your life with a close scrutiny. My life has been at times filled with all the wrong things, bad emotions and negative karma. Since 2009 I have been analysing my place here; the reason for my existence. Of course the answer is simple – pure random luck, a coupling of two people who exchanged bodily fluids that fertilised and finally produced me. You are born, you live, you pay your taxes then you die. I have no worries on that score whatsoever. Nature sets the rules and I follow its lead as best I can tempering those rules with a human morality that includes love, peace and tolerance. Being human and frail I sometimes struggle but that is also Tao, that is fine and I do my best. My mother’s need for a god is easy to disparage but that misses the point entirely. It really doesn’t matter what focuses you in the search for goodness. Tao is God and God is nature. They are one and the same thing even if the idea of having a deity is just a little too much like superstition for my liking. I still want to incorporate my search for spirituality into my writing. Taking the lead from the Essex Wilful Walks and expanding on those precepts. I recently E-mailed Susan, an American blog friend in the hope of starting an online magazine. Sadly I have heard nothing.

Hi Susan,

I hope you are well and life is being good to you. I still miss those ‘Spilled to Bloodlessness’ days.

I should, at this point, apologise for the delay in responding to the message you put on your blog. So without going to the bother of writing about recent events, and like any normal bone idle man, I have cut and pasted an E-mail I sent to the illustrator working on my books. Hopefully, it goes some way to explain the delay.

Work still crazy but that is the norm. Working stupidly long hours. Book five underway. Car on its last legs with no means of having it serviced. Jasmine been out of work now for near on three months. She fortunately found and started new job on 16.01.12. No money at all and life is suddenly very hard. All of which is the least of my concerns. Just under a fortnight ago Mum became unwell complaining of an upset stomach. Doctor arrived Friday 06.01.12 and diagnosed gastroenteritis. I stayed with her Friday and Saturday watching as she grew worse, emptying buckets of vomit. Her nausea grew worse and she started throwing up a brown smelly liquid. It turned out to be faecal vomiting. On Sunday 08.01.12 I dialled 999. A paramedic arrived, took Mum’s stats and reaffirmed doctors’ diagnosis. By Monday 07.01.12 Mum’s condition had grown really bad. Her regular nurse who cares for her COPD arrived and called an ambulance and she was rushed into hospital.

When arrived doctors again reaffirmed it was gastroenteritis but had her X-Rayed. She was badly constipated so they gave her an enema. It didn’t work. Further tests revealed that scar tissue from her bowel cancer operation had created a blockage. Effectively her own shit was poisoning her. Emergency, lifesaving surgery was performed and Mum was then put into Critical care. On Friday last, 13.01.12 Jasmine and Jaime visited and were told by doctor that Mum had a fifty fifty chance of making it. The weekend was hell but she seems to have turned the corner. She joined your Uncle briefly in the barmy barracks as she spoke a lot of nonsense but this was due to the morphine and the toxins flowing through her system.

Still not good but hopefully recovering in High Dependency Unit.

So then, following Christmas, trying to get my books published on Kindle, working like the proverbial beaver for Pfizer and then my Mum goes and gets sick! She is far better now but I am still visiting her every night.

Now then, what was this idea I had for us to collaborate on? I guess it comes from my personal search for growth and spiritually. Like you I am a big fan of George Harrison. I loved the way he was always searching to be better yet fully aware of his own failings.

Sometime ago I started a blog called “Whispering Grass.” It was meant to be, and I think succeeded as, an all-embracing voice of spirituality combining as it did a multitude of quotes from equally as many faiths and belief systems. I then wrote a series of chapbooks that finally were put up onto ISSUU. They were titled “The Wilful Walks of Russell Duffy” and were a journal come essay on my walks around the county of my birth – Essex. They also gave forth on my own failings, my marriage break-up and my desire to be a better, fuller human being.

This led me to think of producing perhaps a magazine or even a book that, like the blog, presents all faiths as being positive forces of good. I think this old Hindu saying sums it up best:

"There are hundreds of paths up the mountain, all leading in the same direction, so it doesn't matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around and around the mountain, telling everyone else that their path is wrong."

In a world filled with pain, ignorance, famine and foolhardy egos I simply wanted to create a broad church that forged some kind of common link between faiths. Nothing new in this I guess but that was and still is my desire. Not sure how to go about it or even if an online magazine would be better than a Kindle book. I also thought instantly of you as you always seemed to be a kindred spirit in your beliefs. I am not Christian nor am I Hindu. I can’t remember which famous author said it but this is my paraphrased version – “I am a Pagan, Buddhist, Taoist Confucian.” At the end of the day we are all one no matter how we perceive God and I want to somehow capture that essence and put it into words.

Initially I conceptualised the project as a 24 to 28pp magazine with essays written by various individuals from different faith groups. I thought this mag could have features on important historical people such as Jesus, Confucius, Alan Watts and a number of other note worthies. We could also go into detail on the faith itself, blowing away any misconceived ideas that some people harbour over certain religions – Islam being a perfect contemporary example. I guess I feel a bit like John Lennon here knowing I have a good idea but in my heart knowing I cannot achieve it on my own as I really don’t know where to start.

The other option is to work in close collaboration with you on a book, a book that would be the modern equivalent of Tao Te Ching, a book filled with our thoughts, our essays cobbled together with various quotes from the wise and wonderful men that have enriched our lives: Morihei Ueshiba, Laozi, Mohammed, Acharya Swami Pranabananda etc.

I am up for any thoughts you have so let me know when you can. If I don’t respond straight away it is because I am sitting with my Mum. I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Fingers crossed that we can do something together.

All the best,

Russell (aka cocaine jesus)

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-26T12:38:00.002Z

Death is as natural as breathing. I have no fears of dying whatsoever. It isn’t death that scares most of us but the thought of never seeing loved ones again. That sense of loss is dreadful. I perfectly understand why monotheists and other faith followers desire to believe in an afterlife. At least then you get to meet up with loved ones again or at least you would if you believed in such things. I am happy to know that all that lives was born to die and that I will die and life will go on.

Pauline’s death was a shock at first but the more I think of how she looked during her final days then I think it for the best. Kenneth Williams once famously said that no one should live beyond 65 and watch themselves deteriorate. I know what he meant. Pauline was a generous soul, kind and friendly. She also had a wonderful sense of humour. I remember on one occasion when she, suffering from the heat, made a blowing noise as she flapped her blouse. “Hot?” I enquired. “It has been said.” She quipped.

Alan sounded matter of fact when we spoke. I guess it is easier to treat Pauline’s passing in a business-like manner. Not so much her death but the very detail of what needs doing after the event.

I have gathered together the bits and pieces Pauline left at work. She told me to get rid of them if she died and I told her not to be daft as she would be coming back to pick them up her self. If only my confident bravado had been right.

“There'll come a time when all of us must leave here

Then nothing Sister Mary can do

Will keep me here with you

As nothing in this life that I've been trying

Could equal or surpass the art of dying

Do you believe me?

: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/g/george+harrison/art+of+dying_20059012.html ]

There'll come a time when all your hopes are fading

When things that seemed so very plain

Become an awful pain

Searching for the truth among the lying

And answered when you've learned the art of dying

But you're still with me

But if you want it

Then you must find it

But when you have it

There'll be no need for it

There'll come a time when most of us return here

Brought back by our desire to be

A perfect entity

Living through a million years of crying

Until you've realized the art of dying

Do you believe me”

Lyrics

George Harrison lyrics - Art Of Dying lyrics
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-25T16:03:00.000Z

My friend and colleague Pauline died a few days ago. I found this out when I phoned her husband to ask after her. She was 60. I will never forget the lovely lady who had to put up with me and my fractious ways. She slipped away without pain or discomfort. Here are the first and last E-mails I received from her. I will miss her.

Tue 12/04/2011 16:55

Hi Russell

Hope you’ve been making the most of the glorious weather we’ve had.

We had an excellent time in Eastbourne as the weather was so good. Not a great deal to do there in early April but plenty of places to walk so did a lot of walking!

Alan planned to jet wash the garden furniture yesterday but a loud bang from the jet washer, which sent Alan jumping 6 feet in the air, means that we now have a garden filled with part washed tables and chairs.

(Could have been dangerous but it made me laugh).

I spoke to Derek yesterday, it was good to catch up with him. He told me that he is still trying to get on the Adare suppliers list.

Had my second appointment at Guys yesterday and the forms have now been completed for the chemotherapy which should start next week. We are expecting to get a call from them tomorrow to confirm the start date.

I’m a bit nervous about it but that is only to be expected.

Had a busy day yesterday (didn’t get back from the hospital until 7:40pm) so not doing too much today.

Alan has gone to give blood so I’m going to make a some tea and put my feet up for a while.

Let me know how things are.

Say “hello” to Lee for me.

Take care.

Love from

Pauline x

Thu 17/11/2011 12:4

Hi Russell

Feeling better today and getting pain under control which is good.

I do remember a mailing for SMA that was done for Matt .

It was the first mailing job for SMA so we used the previous supplier (recommended by Matt) but I can’t remember their name.

The job was made up of several components to be printed (folder, inserts etc) plus the insertion of a wiro-bound book, supplied by Matt.

As you know, it’s not always possible to give accurate postage costs until the mailing has been completed but I’m sure that the O** supplier did include the cost in their estimate as they needed one of the wiro-bound books for weight.

Can O** check the estimate sent to the client to see if postage costs were included? If they can let me have a copy it should jog my memory a bit more!

Regards

Pauline

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-25T13:11:00.002Z

Looking a bit like a large nosed Peter Gabriel in this photo that Thumbscrew took.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-24T23:30:00.000Z

Mum seems to be improving day by day. Tonight when I arrived Jamie was already there sitting by her side. He looked as bored as hell but then again find topics of conversation with someone who has been bed bound for nigh on three weeks is difficult at the best of times. Mum saw me and again that flash of smile greeted me. We didn’t stay long though as she wanted me to turn the central heating down in her bungalow after I said some kind but misguided soul had turned it up to 30! It felt like a tropical jungle inside. Since it wasn’t like the other day I can only presume Joyce across the road turned it up for some obscure reason. Mum has bundles of cards from all manner of people, mostly Salvationists. I find that ‘club mentality’ weird but it is probably me.

As things improve for Mum so my mind has been returning to the books, to Fekenham Swarberry. The first few chapters of book four have been written but the last one composed needs revising as I am not happy with it. The Fekenham books are, at best, a series of Comic adventures with a dash of romance thrown in. In view of that I have been, since book one, trying to develop the romantic story curves. Ralph loves Verity, Cybil (with a C) loves Cyril and all the rest but then there is Ruth Crabtree whose marriage has gone west, who had a brief fling with Frenchman David Vanderputte and who now is linked with Neal Beefshank. Trying to tie all the various story threads is becoming more of a challenge but it is the one thing I love doing.

If I get the time tomorrow I will phone Dave to see how the illustrations for books 1, 2 and 3 are going but also the cover for EB.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-24T17:49:00.002Z

Sitting in a hospital room with no one to talk to as your loved one wanders around between dream and reality you start to think. I had already started this short story intending to use it on a project Dave had at first spoken of. It then occurred to me that it would be interesting to write a short story comprising of four sections containing 500 words each.

Killing Time

1

Time was moving its strange currents. A shimmer of light blessed Wapping Old Stairs. From the sudden come, sudden gone iridescence a shape fell forward, a figure with clawed fingers and bloodied throat. The obscene gurgle of life passing in blood red droplets escaped the woman’s sliced neck. The woman held her throat with her left hand as if by holding the wound she could prevent her life blood flooding out. Her eyes blinked as she staggered while her mouth moved soundlessly. Whatever it was she was trying to say the syllables remained unheard. She fell forward into a heap of blood soaked garments that gave her the look, on first glances, of a misshapen bundle of rags.

The night passed without incident with no one finding the corpse that slowly grew cold. As dawn broke over the Thames, PC Owen Stanhope from the Wapping Marine Police station passed the Old Stairs as he did every morning on his way to work. It was five in the morning and although he was a stout fellow, born and bred in London, he was surprised, then shocked by the discovery of a murdered woman lying bone cold on his manor. Even more remarkable was that the corpse lay right next door to the local nick. It wasn’t just the state of the woman’s brutal demise that shocked him, with her neck so savagely slit that her head remained in place only by a slither of skin, but the way she was dressed. Her clothes appeared to be early Victorian or perhaps even Georgian.

Stanhope alerted his colleagues then called for an ambulance. The latter was just a formality. Within minutes the C.I.D arrived along with a Crime Scene Examiners team led by a tubby forensic doctor who, having pulled on his protective clothing, examined the body. The corpse was then removed to the nearest laboratory, one of the four ‘links’ that operates in London’s thirty two boroughs where an autopsy was performed. Later, after forensics had performed their gruesome ritual it was established that Esther Gilbert, of Narrow Street, Limehouse had been born in 1789 in Bow. A form of identity was found contained in her purse. It was a letter of sorts, crudely hand written in blue black ink, from a lover or boyfriend dated November 1st 1811. The letter was signed by George Taylor. It was also discovered from the address on the note that Esther had lived in New Gravel Lane near the Ratcliff Highway. Traces of blood were found under her fingernails that was thought to have come from where Esther had scratched the face of her attacker

Not only had she had her throat cut but prior to that had been beaten about the head and body with a blunt instrument. There was no such device found at the scene of the crime. The one major problem that the Metropolitan Police had was finding the murderer of a woman from 1811 who had been slaughtered in 1994.

2

Detective Chief Superintendent Colin Murphy sat puzzling over the muddle of facts that lay scattered in sheets across his desk. Esther Gilbert had been born in 1791 in a Stepney poor house. There had been no official birth certificate or any other record of birth but the home she grew up in had drawn their own conclusions from the time she spent with them as infant then child.

George Taylor had died in 1812 following a knife fight in the Kings Arms. It was not an uncommon occurrence as in those days mortality rates in London’s East End were high. Esther had disappeared in November 1811 and her disappearance had been reported. When neither a living body nor dead corpse was found it had been assumed she had run away, as many did back then, with a sailor bound for the New World. Apparently her disappearance had an adverse effect on the young George who turned to drink. Shortly after this rather mundane event the infamous Ratcliff Murders took place. Eventually a man was captured who was thought to be responsible for the heinous crime and imprisoned. It was whilst in hospital that he, John Williams, committed suicide. Many thought in later years to have been innocent.

This scant evidence was all Murphy had to go on. None of it made much sense especially when you tried to tie the murders of 1811 to the barbaric slaughter of the young woman found in Wapping Old Stairs. The thought had occurred that the corpse had been presented dressed in Georgian garb with a facsimile note placed within her purse but the more he thought along those lines the more fanciful and unlikely it seemed. It equally seemed impossible for someone from 183 years ago to arrive in modern day Wapping with their throat sliced open.

Another series of forensic tests were carried out including examination of the cadaver’s teeth. The incisors, canine and premolars, surprisingly for a supposedly young woman of the late Georgian era, were in a pretty good state. However, several molars had been removed with shards of bone remaining in the gum indicating a form of dated dentistry not used in this century. Also the fabric of the dress was authenticated as being circa 1790 to 1820. The ‘love letter’ was also examined specifically the ink which was found to be composed of copperas and tannic acid, a pinch of gum arabic, with what might have been rain or distilled water, confirmation that the letter was also genuine and seemingly of the late 18th to early 19th century.

However, the wounds revealed that a long knife, similar to the ones used by the military, had inflicted the fatal cut. Murphy looked again at the supplied photograph of the Black Commando Knife finding the strange, dislocated evidence, hard to assimilate. How was it possible for an individual living in another time to be killed and found 183 years after the event and by a weapon from the twentieth century?

3

The Thames was bleeding. Streaks of red lapped against the shingle. The discoloured water licked the head of the disfigured body that lay belly up. The body had been mutilated with little evidence of a face. The nose had been sliced off as had the lips. The ears also had been cut off. The breasts had been removed and all internal organs taken from inside the body and placed at strategic points around the corpse.

A team of Crime Scene Examiners led again by the tubby forensic doctor were gathering evidence. The plump medic, an individual used to seeing man’s inherent cruelty to his fellows, was visibly shaken by the inhuman act of barbarism. Detective Chief Superintendent Murphy hovered close by. He too repulsed by what he saw. He spoke quietly to the doctor.

“How long has she been dead?” his words sounded factual in a world suddenly surreal.

“Twelve hours at a guess, maybe a little more but no more than fifteen.”

Above the forensic team along with police officers gathered on the harsh shores of Wapping. The sky, grim and overcast, swept sullen clouds scudding across its pewter horizon. A light rain fell.

Murphy asked a question knowing the answer would be difficult “Any idea of how old she was?”

Doctor Lusk rose painfully on creaking knees, his arthritis feeling the pinch of the cold shingle.

“Somewhere between twenty and thirty, I would hazard twenty seven. The victim has had her throat cut then she has been filleted with her organs laid out symmetrically. Whoever did this has a good working knowledge of anatomy. If I were to suggest that this looks remarkably like the Whitechapel Murders of 1888 then I suspect you or your superiors would think me insane but there is an uncanny resemblance between this murder and that of Mary Jane Kelly.”

A chill wind made Colin Murphy wrap his coat collar around his neck. The rain continued to fall. Murphy took in the doctor’s words but chose to ignore the implications answering instead with another question.

“What about the clothes the victim is wearing, they look authentic.”

“I think they are. I will need to make further analysis though. Again I am guessing but the dress, what’s left of it, appears to be late Victorian or early Edwardian. I will run a fabric test when I get back.”

The doctor stood up groaning as he did. He spoke without a hint of irony.

“I am getting too old for this job; my bones are begging me to retire.”

Again Murphy ignored Lusk’s conversational tones. The policeman looked up at the sky. Little drops of rain coated his face. His hair was soaked and his raincoat covered in tiny dots that were beginning to join together.

“What makes someone do this? What insane thoughts must drive them to commit such an atrocity?”

The doctor picked up his medical bag.

“Not them but us; all mankind are capable of such violent acts, always remember that”

4.

Outside the rain had ceased. The drizzle had pooled into puddles that reflected a gleeful sun which only moments ago had slid behind dark, secretive clouds. The streets were still slick with water. The narrow passage between the Town of Ramsgate and the building next to it glimmered with a ghostly light. The light grew in strength and brightness. It was as though an incendiary device had been set to explode but as it did so time had slowed. The glow from the blast increased in luminosity until it reached an incandescent climax then it guttered out.

The swarthy man gazed out onto the street and smiled. A couple in the distance on their way to St. Katherine’s Dock were holding hands. He watched them walk on then stepped out of the alley. He crossed the street to where the cast iron railings corralled an old wharf. Looking left to right he stepped on heading toward Wapping Lane.

A young woman struggled by with her shopping bags. The man gazed at her taking in her shapely calves and the curve of her buttocks beneath her tight black skirt. She passed Cinnamon Street then turned the corner onto the High Street. A black cab scuttled along like a beetle. Inside the driver, an Asian man, was taking his passenger to Liverpool Street station. The driver looked at the swarthy man who stared back. The can then drove by going down Wapping Lane toward The Highway

The swarthy man followed the route taken by the cab passing the parade of shops as he went. The shops clung to the road presenting a dogged, retrospective outlook. Their windows seemed to be smeared with the dirt of history. They reminded him of his mother and of pork chops, of ‘Call my Bluff’ and of Eamonn Andrews. The butcher shop was regaled with sausages, minced beef and a lamb joint. The meat looked waxy. He walked on. A flock of seagulls swarmed over head. They screeched as they flew. Their voices sounded like a baby crying or like a woman screaming in pain.

He passed Tobacco Dock feeling the silent industry of another age whisper its sorrow at the fading of days. The water lapped at the quayside as a couple of ducks sat idle on the tamed waters. Pennington Street presented itself but he sloped across it as he made his way toward the Highway. He could see St. Georges in the East rise wounded but repaired. He stood at the kerbside as traffic roared by. The noise was immense and at odds with the newfound quiet of Wapping He pulled a package from his pocket, a soiled manila envelope from which he took out a passport, a driver’s license and a crumpled letter. He stepped off of the edge of the kerb leafing through his passport. He didn’t see the bus but heard its tyres squeal and felt its solid mass smash into him. His passport fell open revealing his name– Jack Cleaver.

This is a draft. Not sure if it is too clever by half. I tried to pair it back so that it asks more questions than it does provide answers. I wanted to suggest rather than inform that Jack the Ripper was in fact a man from 1994 who travelled through a time portal located in Wapping to the past, specifically at the time of the Ratcliff Murders but also the famed Whitechapel horror. Not sure it works but I am happy with the 500 wors per section idea.
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-23T22:35:00.000Z

Monday.

January flying past leaving me feeling as if I have achieved little.

The Kindle books are ready in terms of editing and amending but not with regard to artwork. I need to get to see Dave but Mum’s ill health and the time I have had to spend with her has prevented any socialising. Work is less manic but still busy. Clients are demanding and it still frustrates me to see such a lack of wisdom on behalf of the Fizzing Drug Store but also the deception played by Red Astaire. Perhaps deception is too strong a word but there is a lack of honesty on their part. What Fizzin Drug Store needs is not only cost saving but quality and control over their print requirements. The first they think they are getting but in fact they are not and the second doesn’t seem to occur to them. If only I had the money to set up a consultancy I would present to them a sound and persuasive argument on how to save more money, get better control and thereby improve quality. Sadly I am to them nothing but a small cog in a very large machine.

After work I went to see Mum. Ron and Audrey were there but fortunately no sign of Captain Andy, the Methodist, Salvationist halfwit. Mum really has made good ground these past two days. She looks better and is no longer having those awful dreams. She is still weak but getting stronger and has even started eating solids. Today she was given some physio and walked gingerly around her bed. Small steps at first but all to the good. The hospoital have said she may be able to go home by the end of the week but I think that is too soon. Maybe Monday or the following Friday.

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2012-01-22T23:51:00.000Z

After the nightmarish start to the weekend and with all the hours spent by Mum’s side today she seemed to have returned her normal self. The hospital phoned at 1,30 to tell me they were moving Mum from HDU to the Hockley ward which is on the same floor. I had my lunch then drove, along with Squidy, to see her. She was tucked away in the corner looking far better than she had for days. Her face lit up when she saw us. I apologised for not being able to stay the previous night with her. She said that no one had told her why I hadn’t turned up so, even though I had done nothing wrong, I said sorry. She squeezed my hand then turned her attention to Charlotte who she loves so much. It was heart-warming to see my Mum looking and behaving more like her old self. Her voice is still weak and her hands shake when raise them but in light of the seriousness of the operation it is hardly surprising. She spoke of the past few days saying she was aware that much of what she said was nonsense. She also expressed how she feared for her sanity thinking that she, due to the bowel obstruction, was declining into senility, that she was losing her mind. She said to wake up and see other faces around her were most welcome. I told her it was not her mind but possibly the anaesthetic that caused the hallucinations. It seems unlikely now that she had septicaemia as her wound looks clean. We will have to wait for the results of her blood test.

I managed, as Jasmine and Jamie, now returned for his skiing holiday, to make all of Paul’s amends saving them onto the master USB. Now I need to chase Dave. Goodness knows when I will be able to see him as I will still have to visit Mum over the coming weekends. I must also reply to Lorna’s husband as his E-mail to me arrived before Christmas.

I returned to the hospital in the evening. Ron and Audrey were there and were flushed with happiness to see Mum looking and sounding so much better. Mum even made mention of all the family taking a holiday when she has fully recovered, one she said she would pay for in perhaps Scotland or Ireland. I cannot see Jasmine agreeing to that as she cannot abide my Mum even though she has been very good to her over the years. We will have to wait and see.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-21T22:16:00.000Z

Received an odd phone call from Mum's Sally Army Captain, he obviously had spoken with Ron who I know thinks I am handling this whole business badly. I have no problem with Rom whatsoever. He is a bit of an old woman in that he worries over the slightest of things. Andrew, Mum's Captain, went into this diatribe of how one should handle NHS staff, that each and evry one of them is thick, dull-witted and possibly unhinged. I should dictate to them how Mum's nursing should be conducted and should question everything they do. I tried to explain that we had outside knowledge with Emily and Doctor Ben and that Jasmine had been communicating with the ward Sister but this info went straight over his head. I felt like driving over and giving him a piece of my mind - ~~Interfering cunt~~. I didn't of course and tapped into the fragile new peace loving me. Hard to do as the guy really should be punched on the nose. If I see him tomorrow (and I hope I do) I will have to say something to him even if politely to mind his own fucking business.

Mum wanted me to stay with her throughout the night but the ward sister said Mum was far better now and that I didn't have to which was a blessing for me as I felt tired from the night before. I will visit her again tomorrow.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-21T18:17:00.002Z

Less weird this afternoon when Lesley, Sarah and I went to see Mum, she still seemed confused but nowhere near as bad as last night. She did ask if I had seen Charlotte in the hospital restaurant. Of course Charlotte was in doors and had been all day. Mum was convinced that she had seen Squid earlier on but of course she hadn’t. Derek was there when we arrived but, having shook my hand, left us to sit with Mum who was so pleased to see Lesley and Sarah. Just as we were settling down saying the sort of rubbish people do when visiting hospitals so another friend of Mum’s turned up, a large lady who I had never seen before. She seemed nice enough and so the three of us went to the restaurant where we sat and drunk coke light.

The conversation was enjoyable and it is always good to see Lesley. We spent a lot of time together when we were young and she still has the same wicked sense of humour. I think both Lesley and donna found Mum’s condition, although patently getting better, a little upsetting. We didn’t stay that long as Steve was parked off site in a back street. Mum seemed slightly upset by the speed of the visit. I promised her that Jasmine would visit later and that I would stay with her overnight if allowed.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-21T12:01:00.002Z

It was by anyone’s standards a weird day. In fact it wasn’tone day as Friday rolled into Saturday. Work was its usual rush and tear of orders being produced or quoted andas many calls being answered. Red Astaire still haven’t grabbed the nettle ofhow much work we get through and I don’t think they ever will. Money rules theroost over common sense.

i left work and drove to thehospital to see Mum. Traffic was awful with the M25 stuffed – the usual Fridaynight scramble. When I got there it was obvious something was amiss. The staffsort of stared at me as I walked in. Ron was with Mum and he explained how Mum,to use his words, had been ‘a naughty girl.’ She had pulled out some of thetubes she had in her nose and her wrist and had thrown a carafe of water at anurse. She looked at me with terrified eyes agreeing that she had done preciselythat explain that she was only defending herself as the staff was trying tokill her. She looked haunted and very scared and begged me to stay the night. Isaid I couldn’t that the hospital rules would not allow me to sleep over. Theward sister had walked in and indicated it was OK. I could see by her look thatMum had been very troublesome but she thought it best for Mum if I were tospend the night by her side. It was probably because they thought I could calmher down a bit. Mum kept rambling on and on about odd things and all veryspooky it was too.

Ron left then I too followed suit. I needed to have my injectionand eat some carbs. Mum was patently NOT happy so I phoned Jasmine who caught acab to the hospital. When she arrived I left. When I got back all but two of mybrood were there: Jasmine, Emily, Grace and Brett.

After they left we settled down for the night. It was thething of nightmare. Mum slept from 11 to 1 as did I then she awoke and the doorbetween the dream world and reality collided. She spoke to a woman and childwho were clearly no there, to man who stood bside her, to me even though I tookno part in the conversation, to a nurse who also wasn’t there, to my Dad, toher sister. Then she asked me to turn the TV off. Both sets were off. She tookhold of the emergency button which resembles a TV remote and pressed thatsending alarm bells ringing. The staff were patience personified. An AsianDoctor appeared who she told me in a stage whisper was in fact a pharmacist whoowned the flat we were in and the down stairs one to and was her now sellingfruit and biscuits. He looked at Mum then smiled at me then hastily departed.

The night dragged on an on as I kept looking at the cock.The hand moved from 2.30 to 2.35 as though some deity was holding back thepassage of time. I found it all disturbing and naturally grew concerned. Myfears were two fold and based upon the little knowledge I have. If the bowelblockage had spilt into Mum’s system, and it had, releasing toxins on the waythen those poisonous particles could have either permanently damaged Mum’s mindor possibly temporarily. I spoke with a nurse who said they had taken swabs fromMum believing it to be Sepsis. This made sense to me but then, looking it up Iam now as worried as I was before I knew what was ailing Mum:

Sepsis can develop into a life-threateningillness, and must be treated aggressively with antibiotic therapy. Sepsis, whensevere, can cause low blood pressure, alter the mental status of a patient,cause chills, and a general feeling of poor health. Septic shock, the name forsepsis when it progresses to the life-threatening stage, is treated withmedication to increase blood pressure and high doses of antibiotics.

The nursetold me that the Doctor wouldn’t have the results to the test until Monday. Inmy opion that is leaving the problem alone for too long.

I left Mum after 6AM and caught the bus home. I arrived home after7 where I had my injection followed by some breakfast then off to bed. Sincewaking the phone has been going off at regular intervals with all manner ofpeople phoning: Boo Boo, Derek, Jasmine, Emily and then Lesley. Lesley an Ialong with Steve and possibly Uncle Richard and Auntie Mary will be going tovisit Mum at 2.30 as will Derek and his wife. Mum wants me or someone to staytonight as she fears and mistrusts the ward staff who really are a nice bunchof people.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-19T13:55:00.001Z

Last night Mum looked a lot better than on previous visits. She was sitting up in bed and instantly recognised me greeting me with a smile. She said she had not been too good today but she looked a lot better. She then asked me to clean her dentures. Fantastic! I am such a wimp when it comes to things like that. I hate the thought of touching something covered in another’s saliva. As manfully as I could and with a fixed smile on my face I did as asked. When finished I gave the bloody set back to Mum who promptly popped them into her mouth. I then scrubbed my hands furiously before coating them in that gunk hospitals have situated at every entrance/exit. Not my kind of thing at all but I suspect I need to get used to the idea as Mum is going to be bed bound for some time yet.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-19T13:30:00.002Z

“Liberty does not consist in making others do what you think right. The difference between a free Government and a Government which is not free is principally this—that a Government which is not free interferes with everything it can, and a free Government interferes with nothing except what it must. A despotic Government tries to make everybody do what it wishes, a Liberal Government tries, so far as the safety of society will permit, to allow everybody to do what he wishes. It has been the function of the Liberal Party consistently to maintain the doctrine of individual liberty. It is because they have done so that England is the country where people can do more what they please than in any country in the world.”

Sir William Harcourt
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Tao Te Ching

by Lao-tzu

J. Legge, Translator

(Sacred Books of the East, Vol 39) [1891]

1

The Tao that can be trodden is not the enduring and unchanging Tao. The name that can be named is not the enduring and unchanging name.

(Conceived of as) having no name, it is the Originator of heaven and earth; (conceived of as) having a name, it is the Mother of all things.

Always without desire we must be found,

If its deep mystery we would sound;

But if desire always within us be,

Its outer fringe is all that we shall see.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-18T17:34:00.001Z

Still no response from Dave which puzzles me, I sent him two E-mails but have had nothing in return. I will have to phone him when I can. Paul now has the master copies of book one and EB. With Dave busy the pressure should be off but now I am concerned by the delay. I could do without this. I really need to rake as much or as little as I can. With Jasmine out of work we are seriously feeling the pinch. I have no idea how we will be able to have the car serviced and goodness knows it needs it.

Boris Johnson on Radio 4 this morning waxing lyrical about his idea for having a new London airport constructed in the Thames Estuary. I like the concept. I think it would work. It would alleviate road congestion but also air noise pollution as all planes would fly from and land on a man built island, much like the one we Brits designed for China thereby keeping air flight off the mainland. Unlike Cameron or Clegg, Boris has got a forceful personality. He has been a good mayor for London and he would get my vote were he to stand for PM. Winston in a wig!

Jeff phoned following my voice mail to him regarding Mum’s condition. He is unable to get down from Norfolk as the tumour in his eye makes it impossible to drive at night. He too has been unwell over the weekend but nowhere near as bad as Mum.

I will visit Mum later tonight, a fleeting visit only, when I am on my way home. I hope she is better than last night. I think her recovery will take a lot longer than three weeks.

Bought Richard Dawkins “The God Delusion” on Sunday along with Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man of the Sea,” I am looking forward to reading both but first I must finish Dickens “A Tale of Two Cities.” A great read and apt as it is Dickens bi-centenary.

My yearning to find love, to find someone to love and love me has come to a grinding halt. I cannot pretend not to still have feelings for Jasmine but it is as plain as the nose on my face that our relationship will need a miracle to revive. It has all gone too far. In spite of this I still find myself searching for that spiritual connection. As much as I love George Harrison and his Hindu faith with its cheerful acceptance of a great creator, it still, like Christianity, raises more question than it does provide answers.

I started to then think of my own personal journey. When I wrote the first “Wilful Walks” it wasn’t just my walks around Essex that I spoke of but also that search that now consumes me of spirituality, of personal growth, of Buddha, of Jesus, of Lao Tzu and good old Confucius. If Dave and I are to take up and continue with the London Chronicles (a title I now dislike) then I will need to re-write vast amounts of the text as it doesn’t follow on with that spiritual search. Not sure he will like that.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-17T22:40:00.000Z

Prayer always looks so damn easybut I haven’t the foggiest notion how to go about it. I used to as a child whenMum made but my heart was never really in it. Now here I am not sure if I shouldkneel on the floor with my hands clasped in front of me or stand with headbowed. I adopt a Buddhist, Hindu cross legged pose and concentrate as Imeditate. If He is out there then He will surely be laughing his socks off now.I have never understood why so many Christians feel the need to adopt a supplicant’spose. Is it to show respect to the almighty? Surely someone as powerful as thegreat creator doesn’t have such a human ego? I pray as I did when I was achild. Not sure if it’s working or not and remembering what my mother said whenI was young. “If you don’t mean it the he’ll know.” Well I do mean it. Theproblem I have is praying to a myth, to a deity that doesn’t exist. I feel bothfoolish and hypocritical but I remember that I am not doing this for mybenefit. I am doing it for my mother and if God is there and is so goodly andupright then He will surely be a better version of me? I forgive. I love. Ibelieve in peace and harmony. I believe that the ten thousand things and I areone. Hare, hare, hare, shiva, shiva shanka hare rama.

“There are many paths up themountain side all leading to the same summit. Only a fool would say his way isthe only way.”

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2012-01-16T23:48:00.000Z

Today I had to visit Fox to finish off the re-packing job I started last week. Amazing how soon I have become unfit. All the walking about on cold concrete floors made my feet ache. By the end of the day I was bone tired but drove from Royal Tonbridge Wells to the hospital.

Mum had been moved from Critical Care to another ward. The medical team were happy enough with her progress and confident for her to leave their unit. During the day Lesley, after yesterday’s conversation, took Richard and Mary into see Mum. Richard found the sight of Mum harrowing but was pleased to have visited. Jasmine and Emily also visited as did Ron and Audrey all of whom arrived together!. Mum also had more visits from fellow Salvationists, Margaret and her husband who, upon seeing how many people was gathered waiting to see her highness, left saying they would return another time.

Jasmine later, when recounting her visit, showed more of her intolerance for Mum. Mum does have an awful habit of feeling sorry for herself and does say the silliest things sometime. I, for the most part, ignore her but if she goes too far chastise her. I think now though she has every reason to be scared. She fears death. I don’t but I do fear the dread of never seeing my kids again and I think this is what Mum really fears. As a Christian she shouldn’t fear death as she will get to see Dad again but even so our animal nature remains and survival is paramount.

When I got in, just after 7.30, Ron and Audrey were with her. She looked tired and lay with her eyes closed. I kissed her and told her I loved her. She struggled to smile and said she didn’t feel so good today. When R and A left I sat for the remainder of the time (visiting hours end at 8) holding her hand. I kissed her goodbye and her eyes opened for the first time. She asked me to pray for her. I said I would. Not quit sure how God is going to feel about that after all the shit I threw his way during my teenage years but I will give it go even if I think it a load of bunkum.

“Hi God it’s me.”

“The boy who called me a wanker?”

“Er…yes, sorry about that. I am not here for me though, it’s me Mum, she needs your help.”

“I see. So I am not so bad when you need my help then?”

“My Mum’s good. She believes in you.”

“Indeed she does. I will see what I can do.”

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-15T21:08:00.000Z

The days are going too fast. I have little time now with Mum being in hospital to do anything apart from eat, sleep, work and visit her. The distance between Jasmine and I has closed a bit but not enough for me to base any reconciliation on. So sad but I must make the most of what there is left to us. We took it in turns to visit Mum today. I went first and was pleased to see her fighting back. She seemed far better today than Friday. Miles better in fact. The nurses, along with a physiotherapist, had her sitting up o the edge of the bed. They said she seems strong. I find that hard to believe after the last few days but I take encouragement from their knowledge and experience. I sat in the waiting room as they put Mum through whatever routine it is they perform. When I returned Mum looked weary and still slightly confused. The days passing seems to cause the most consternation for her. She still finds it hard to believe that five days have passed without her being aware of them at all. She still has tubes connected to her wrist, her hand and her nose but doesn’t seem to mind them. The catheter no longer seems to bother her either so no more unsightly ‘scratching.’ She would be horrified to know that she had so I shall stay silent on the subject.

Jasmine went in with Charlotte. Mum gave Jasmine her pension detail so that we can pay her bills. The fact that Mum, who knows full well our marriage breakdown, trusts Jasmine shows the true regard Mum has for her daughter-in-law. Jasmine still gets irritated by Mum though and I find that hard to deal with. Mum does have ways that I too find odd but I guess we all do. Perhaps it is the history of the two women that weighs heavy on my wife, understandable perhaps but time to move on I think. Later Emily went in to see Mum and she seems to think her improvement is good even though she, like me, is concerned over her vacant look at times that really is freaky to observe. The way she looks straight through you without seeing you or being aware of your presence.

In the evening Ron and Audrey popped in. They believe that their prayers are being answered and who am I to argue? I think it more a cse of science and medicine but if it makes Mum better then all power to prayer.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-14T23:31:00.000Z

All night I feared the worsethinking of and fearing the witching hour of 2 to 3 in the morning. It is thenwhen adrenaline kicks in as I have so often found out to my own discomfort. I kept waiting for the phone to ring expectingthat call from the hospital. I was the first to arrive and even though Mum wasin a very confused state she recognised me. The toxin’s and morphine combinedgiving Mum some odd hallucinations. She kept counting the drawers in the wardcabinet and turned to me to scold me for moving them. Her eyes flashed as theydid when I was younger. She looked murderous but then slipped back to sleep.She did this repeatedly. She seemed to shake of her tiredness desperate to stayawake telling anyone who was listening that she wasbetter.

“I am on the mend,” she said overand over, “I am on the mend.”

She confessed to being scared ofdying in one of her lucid moments. I told her she wasn’t going to. In truth shelooks a tad better than she did last night.

We took it in turns to visit her,Me, Jasmine, Squidy, Grace and Brett. The hallucinatory moments are both freakyand funny. At one stage she called Brett, Jamie, then Russell. It is as if herfear is making her determined to appear better even though she obviously isn’t.Ron and Audrey also came to see her as I was making the last visit of thenight. I find the theatrics of Christians a little spooky but I guess it iswell intentioned.

I feel more positive tonighthaving seen some signs of the Mum I love. Fingers crossed it continues. Even ifit does it will be one hell of a long haul.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-13T23:15:00.000Z

I recall now Dad’s untimely deathin 1988. He had ‘beaten’ the cancer that had sought to end his life only tofall foul of a stroke. I remember that awful, drawn out time as he laymotionless in the hospital bed. I remember that unforgettable moment when hestarted to cough, his oxygen mask filling with a pinkish liquid as the hospitalstaff ushered Mum and I from the room. Minutes later they reappeared solemnfaced to relay the news that Dad had died. Boo Boo and Terry took Mum andJasmine home as I had matters to sort with the hospital. The whole businessreminded me of how like library books we are. We are given a certificate onbirth and another when we die. I carried Dad’s paltry belongings away with me ina plastic bag.

“On the haunted hallways and shoetap stair, I am chasing memories hiding from ghosts of despair.”

I wrote that line and the fullpoem back then. It is still one of the best things I have ever put to paper.

Jaime phoned me at work to tellme that the Doctor’s had given Mum a fifty fifty chance. I felt my face reflectthe sadness I felt flood through me. I managed to keep things together butwalked away from my desk. I could feel the eyes of my colleagues upon me. Thenews may have been expected in some gloomy way but it still hit like a rocket.

Tonight Mum had got as close todeath as it is possible to imagine. She slept for the most part, her faceyellowy/grey, her skin pulled parchment thin over gaunt features. Earlier Emilyhad visited her and had walked past not recognising the cadaver like effigy thatlay slack jawed on the ward bed. The sight of Mum had made Emily cry as sheseemed sl close to death. Upon seeing her granddaughter Mum had cried out withjoy only for moments later, as the morphine kicked in, to call out to a nurseto have this imposter moved ‘she is not my Granddaughter’ declared Mum to Emily’shorror. Fortunately Emily is toughskinned and laughed at the situation. Grace didn't. She and I sat holding hands weeping at the way Mum/Grammy had slipped into such a state.

When Jasmine and I arrived lateron we too encountered someone who was drifting in and out of reality. Mum madeseveral odd statements with the daftest being her desire to give the hospitalstaff some money. I had no problem with that in fact thought/think it a goodidea but Mum looked from Me to Jasmine and back again before declaring she haddone something wrong. No matter how we tried to tell she had done nothing wrongshe seemed not to believe. Each time she fell back to sleep she would awakeagain sometime later only to repeat, parrot fashion, the same mantra – ‘I’vedone something wrong.’ She said this over and over and throughout the time wewere there.
Jasmine and I left in separate cars.I went back to Mum’s for no other reason other than to see and touch the homeshe has lived in these past 44 years. The Doctors do not seem too positive. AllI have is the stupid belief in Mum’s ability to fight back.

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2012-01-12T21:12:00.000Z

Work is still unbelievably busy. As I process one E-mail so another ten arrive. The flow of work is not yet a flood but still far too much for anyone person to deal with. This is made worse with Brian being out and by my still having to play catch-up after Christmas. Not only did I have to run the routine admin but also meet and greet several suppliers who had come to view a prospective job and also oversee a huge poster that the Fizzing Drug Store had ordered that needed to be fixed to a curved wall. The chap who did the fixing was from a Birmingham based company but was himself French. It was interesting to speak with someone from France and hear how about their education system. It all sounds rather draconian but nonetheless seems to produce results. Having said that, at the end of the day, we all of us are products of commerce and therefore ‘regulated’ by the needs of industry. Few of us are able to pursue artistic or creative careers as the benefits to society, apart from the altruistic, are small whereas the regular choices produce individuals who can best fuel the machine. This all sounds vaguely ‘sixties counter culture’ and I am any but that. Still, the fact remains we are ‘pumped out’, often with little regard for any hidden talents we may have or ambitions to do anything other than become labourers or administrators.

Moan, moan, moan.

Called in late to see Mum in hospital, she was okay it a little drugged up. She has the morphine button lying beside her which she uses regularly to prevent the pain from growing. She seemed to fade in and out of consciousness often mid conversation. It was all very reminiscent of an opium den with Mum’s voice fading as she spoke, her eyes half closed, fractured sentences: “Richard was such a delightful baby….need the milk….apples on side….Jasmine came in to see me….no, no not Maureen, she’s dead.” I sat with her for half an hour holding her hand then she briefly woke to tell me how tired she was so I kissed he goodnight then left.

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2012-01-11T22:14:00.000Z

It is probably guilt on my part as I steadfastly adhered to the instructions given me by the doctors but I am very angry with the GP who diagnosed Mum as having Gastroenteritis. Had I realised that faecal vomiting were such a serious condition then I would have had Mum into hospital long before the Monday. Emily was the first to react to what I had told her and spoke to a doctor colleague who said the patient should be hospitalised. Fortunately by then Mum’s regular nurse had arrived and acted accordingly. Four days of unnecessary delay all by an incorrect diagnosis. I will have to apologise to Ron and Audrey who all along said Mum should have been in hospital.

She looked so tired and frail tonight. Her face drawn, he colour grey, her hair, unwashed for several days, scraped back across her forehead. There is a hollow between her collar bone and neck which you could fill with water and drink from. It is the size of a small teacup. From her nose a tube hangs over which a plastic mask provides her COPD, her lungs with oxygen. A catheter irritates her so much that she furtively fiddles with the device. Her hands are covered in bruises from the warfarin. An intravenous tube is inserted into one hand whilst the other monitors her vital signs. Two screens, the sort that Emily works with every day, flickers and blips her heart rate.

She smiled weakly when she saw me she looked as though I was something heaven sent rather than just her son. She now depends on me so much and I fear that responsibility, I fear her death even more. I stood by her side making idle chit chat. She nodded occasionally and smiled at me. I told her I was sorry for not getting the ambulance crew in sooner. She took the mask from her mouth and told me that I had done all I could. I hope so.

I remained by her side for maybe ten minutes. She started to worry that I should get home for injection and meal. I laughed telling her not to worry but she reminded me she was still a Mum and that by nature they always worry. I kissed her forehead and told her I loved her.

I drove to her bungalow to check all was OK. I picked up the milk so that we could use it and not let it go to waste. I also took home a loaf of bread as she seems to be collecting them in her freezer. The bungalow looked odd. Not because it was empty but rather because it showed me how it one day will be – empty of her.

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2012-01-10T23:39:00.000Z

A tedious day at work where I had to work on a bench unpacking incorrect items before repacking them. The site I worked out of was in Tunbridge Wells and should have been easy enough to find. However, having programmed the SatNav to TN3 3EY the damn thing went haywire and directed me to Ashdown and onto a recently built housing estate. I should have realised something was wrong when the screen kept showing me that I wasn’t on the M25 but was driving in a field next to it. I was furious as I used to moan about SatNav’s but had my mind changed when driving around Europe. They are normally V.good. Finally arrived at Fox and spent the day farting about taping up boxes, loading pallets and doing things that I hadn’t for many years. The initial ‘buzz’ of doing something out of the routine soon faded as my feet began to ache.

I left Tunbridge Wells a little after six and got to the hospital just before eight. Mum was lying in bed with a tube up her nose looking very sorry for herself. She had been given an enema and also had a Fluoroscopic examination. The diagnosis was that scar tissue from Mum’s previous bowel cancer was causing an obstruction. The solution is surgery. The doctor gave Mum the usual spiel about her age and the risk involved which must have gone down like a led balloon. She was very concerned when I arrived as she had been told not only that she may have to wear a bag but the operation itself, at her age, was risky. She cried a bit and I felt like shit. I told her not to worry which was a dumb thing to do but what else could I say? I managed to cheer her up somewhat and told her I loved her.

I left her at ten past eight as visiting time is finishes at eight. Got home and was greeted by Jamie who had cooked my dinner for me which was nice. We spoke of the situation with Mum. Not sure how he feels as he is such a deep individual. Any emotion is kept inside. Jasmine arrived home at a little after 10.30 having been out with Sharon. Any hopes I had of ‘happy families’ were soon dashed when she told me how much she disliked my mother.

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2012-01-09T21:38:00.000Z

Monday arrived bringing with itcares and concerns over Mum’s health. I had no time to phone first thing and anyway,she would still have been in bed. When Igot to work, even before unpacking the gumpf I carry I phoned her. She stillwasn’t well. She had spent the night if not vomiting then retching. She soundedexhausted. Ron and Audrey were there (such good and tireless people – I don’tknow what I would have done without them.

Later on Jamie phoned to tell methat Audrey had phoned home to inform us of Mum being taken to hospital.Apparently the nurse had taken one look at her and said she needed help. Jamiestayed with her until the ambulance arrived. As it wasn’t an emergency the waitwas a couple of hours. Jasmine drove him to the hospital and then, a minormiracle perhaps, she also went to see Mum where Mum said she was sorry thenJasmine did too. By this time Grace and Brett had arrived and they heard bothmy Mum and Jasmine make up then say they loved each other. The thought of suchmakes me want to cry with barmy joy. If there is a God then he does get hisarse into gear some times and I thank him for it.

The day went its weary way but Ileft early so I could visit Mum. Grace was still there by her bedside. Jasminehad gone to Mum’s bungalow to clear and wash the bedding which had beensoiled (Mum would die of shame to knowof such a thing). The fact that Jasmine did such a a generous, loving thingonly goes to prove that she is still the same girl I meet forty years ago. Iwish she and I could so easily make up.

We left Mum in A&E and I tookGrace home. We spoke for awhile chiefly about Grace’s Mum. Some surprise therefor my daughter I think.

I went back later to see Mum whowas now in ‘observation’ waiting to be moved. She was very drowsy and still ina lot of pain. If I believed in prayer then I would have said one then.

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2012-01-08T23:17:00.000Z

A horrid day spent at Mum’s. I got her phone call at 5am. I arrived with her at 5.30. She looked awful, grey faced and drawn. I clean away the bowl she had been sick in then cleaned the toilet, basin and then the bowl using that Dettol spray that exterminates all bacteria. I stayed until 8 then shot back home for injection and some breakfast. Got back to Mum’s at about 8.30. She had been sick again and was complaining of having pains in her back and ribs – no doubt from all the retching. She spent most of the morning either laying in her bed or sitting on the side of it vomiting a brackish, brown liquid. Thumbscrew said this was not a good sign as it may be dried blood. Having said that it could be far worse was it to be new blood. Just before lunch Audrey and Ron arrived in their Salvation Army uniforms. They are good people but inclined to panic. They wanted an ambulance called and for Mum to be rushed into hospital. As much as I share their concern I think they are being a little over the top. Mum had a doctor see her Friday who said she should take his medicine and lots of water to avoid dehydration. We need to follow this advice even if Mum throws up each and every time she takes a sip (and she is).

I left and went home for lunch leaving Audrey and Ron with Mum. I was back within the hour and they again suggested I call an ambulance. Mum also said she wanted help. I called NHS Direct and within half an hour a rapid response medic arrived who took Mum’s stats. He said he didn’t think she needed to go to hospital but he was concerned that she was becoming dehydrated. She told him that every time she drank she threw-up and so he called for a nurse to visit who could prescribe anti-sickness drugs. She arrived within the hour and I went to the local pharmacy to pick the medication up. I think Ron would still have preferred to have had an ambulance as he said Mum’s condition qualifies as an emergency. It doesn’t. A road accident or a heart attack are emergencies - this is a priority of course but not an emergency.

I read, with little else to do, one of Mum’s Agatha Christie books. Dated obviously but very well written and although it lacks all the so called realism of modern fiction it has oodles of charm and some quirky plots. I was surprised to have enjoyed the book as much as I did. It also gave me some comic ideas for Fekenham.

I stayed at Mum’s until Ron and Audrey returned at about 7.30. I agreed that should Mum’s condition not improve by tomorrow then we call an ambulance and have her admitted to hospital. They obviously feel that I should have done that myself.

I went to Sainsbury’s to get some food for our dinner. As I had the car Jasmine was unable to do any shopping. I dropped the groceries off then collected Brett from the flat then went on to pick up Grace from work.

Hopefully, the drugs will take effect and Mum’s condition will improve. If not then tomorrow she really will have to go to hospital.

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2012-01-07T21:41:00.000Z

Left Mum's after eight. She had settled down in bed after I had practically carried her there. She does seem especially unwell. I told her I would be back early tomorrow. Not sure what I can do apart from be there. Hopefully the medicine prescribed by the doctor will take affect and stop her vomiting. There is little to do at Mum’s. I manically washed everything she touched including sink, the bowl and even the cups and mugs. You hear so much about lack of hygiene these days so I did my best to ensure that all germs were blitzed. Probably went a little too far.
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2012-01-07T18:17:00.002Z

As I got in last night Jamieapproached me saying Ron had just phoned – my Mum was again unwell. I wentround as soon as I had eaten and injected. Mum had started vomiting during theday so that when the nurse arrived on her weekly call she decided to call adoctor and then Ron and Audrey. Her reasoning was that Mum should not be leftalone and since I was still at work then Ron and Audrey were the nearest toher. Mum looked awful and I was perplexed at how bad she seemed especiallyafter how well she had appeared on Tuesday. I stayed until she grew tired thenI put her to bed.

First thing this morning, stillin my dressing gown, Mum phoned saying she needed help. I showered quickly andwas there within half an hour. Lack of food or water had made her blood sugarlevels drop and she had begun to dehydrate. She looked pale and weary sayingshe hadn’t slept. I gave her Llucozade. This seemed to work as a little colourreturned to her cheeks. She then asked for some cornflakes which turned out toa bad idea as a short time later she threw the whole lot up again. I tied andcleaned as best I could ensuring to use a anti-bacterial spray on all the worksurfaces and washing my hands regularly. Probably to no avail but it is whatall the medics suggest you do.

At about 1PM, Audrey and Ronarrived just as I had locked my keys in Mum’s house. Fortunately they had aspare set and I was able to retrieve mine. I left Mum with them to go home tograb some lunch. I returned after 2PM with Squid who sat with Mum as I did hershopping. We stayed by her side until 5.30 then came home where I am now. Ishall go and have some dinner then return to put her to bed and to make sureshe is okay.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-06T13:03:00.003Z

A beautiful day outside. Blue skies filled with a weak wintry sun Still chilly but lovely to see. The sort of day it feels good to be alive on. Nature is a random mistress but her salvation is her brutal honesty. Nature does not lie, it may deceive us from time to time, it may mislead us but even that I suspect is more to do with us misreading the signs she sends us. Mother nature somehow sounds kinder than God.

Lee is finding that Wilberforce Leigh is just the same as Obnoxious Cowboy Enterprises - soulless and admin heavy. Much like Admin Deviant Anal Retentive Executives is. I think we both would rather work for ourselves now opposed to working for a conglomerate. One day soon maybe?

"Brainwashed in our childhood

Brainwashed by the school

Brainwashed by our teachers

And brainwashed by all their rules

Brainwashed by our leaders

By our Kings and Queens

Brainwashed in the open

And brainwashed behind the scenes

God God God

A voice cries in the wilderness

God God God

It was on the longest night

God God God

An eternity of darkness

God God God

Someone turned out the spiritual light

Brainwashed by the Nikkei

Brainwashed by Dow Jones

Brainwashed by the FTSE

Nasdaq and secure loans

Brainwashed us from Brussels

Brainwashed us in Bonn

Brainwashed us in Washington

Westminster in London

God God God

You are the wisdom that we seek

God God God

The lover that we miss

God God God

Your nature is eternity

God God God

Your are Existence, Knowledge, Bliss

The soul does not love, it is love itself

It does not exist, it is existence itself

It does not know, it is knowledge itself

How to Know God, pag 130

They brainwashed my great uncle

Brainwashed my cousin Bob

They even got my grandma

When she was working for the mob

Brainwash you while you're sleeping

While in your traffic jam

Brainwash you while you're weeping

While still a baby in your pram

Brainwashed by the military

Brainwashed under duress

Brainwashed by the media

You're brainwashed by the press

Brainwashed by computer

Brainwashed by mobile phones

Brainwashed by the satellite

Brainwashed to the bone

God God God

Won't you lead us through this mess

God God God

From the places of concrete

God God God

Nothing's worse than ignorance

God God God

I just won't accept defeat

God God God

Must be something I forgot

God God God

Down on Bullshit Avenue

God God God

If we can only stop the rot

God God God

Wish that you'd brainwash us too

Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare Mahadev

Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare

Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva

Hare Hare Hare Hare Mahadeva

Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva

Namah Parvarti Pataye Hare Hare

Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva

Shiva Shiva Shankara Mahadeva"

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-05T22:45:00.000Z

"Isn't it a pity

Now, isn't it a shame

How we break each other's hearts

And cause each other pain

How we take each other's love

Without thinking anymore

Forgetting to give back

Isn't it a pity

Some things take so long

But how do I explain

When not too many people

Can see we're all the same

And because of all their tears

Their eyes can't hope to see

The beauty that surrounds them

Isn't it a pity"

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-04T23:00:00.000Z

As I sit day after day stuck in what appears to be a constant traffic jam, I reflect on my own frustration and anger at being captive to the same routine conditions and at the same time the sheer futility of my rage. The reason I drive to work is pretty much the same as every other sod on the road – I have to. I, like my fellow, commuters, are governed by necessity. It is not a lifestyle anyone would chose to lead but one we must, if we are to earn our daily crust, commit to. Personally I hate it. I hate the fact that life is being condensed into a box on wheels that burns the self-same tarmac day in day out. The cars wheels are a great metaphor and one often spoken of by Hindu’s – we live on a wheel, life is a wheel, a wheel that spins as we run round it like rodents perpetually keeping it in motion. And when we pass on to whatever after life there may be so another rodent is put on the wheel to replace us. It is a hateful way to have to live but unless we have the desire or motivation to be part of this lifestyle, to not only be an active participant but passionately committed to it, then living this way becomes tortuous. It certainly is torture to me.

Jasmine was out again last night this time with Sally or Sarah or someone whose name begins with an S. Her toothache seems to have faded somewhat. Thumbscrew had a friend over, Gemma I think, and they both stayed firmly ensconced in T’s bedroom. Squid and I watched Mamma Mia on TV. It is a great film. Abba were great songwriters even if the elite of Rock described them as being trite, crap and manufactured. At least Elvis C stated he liked them.

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2012-01-03T23:38:00.000Z

First day back at work or not, as it turned out. I left home about 6.30 and learnt, via the BBC road report, that the Dartford crossing was closed due to gale force winds. In fact it was the bridge they had closed whilst leaving the tunnel open. This meant closing of all but two kiosks for the toll. I didn’t reach the payment point until 8.45 and didn’t arrive at work until after 10. A security guard approached to inform me that the Fizzing Drug Store was shut due to a power cut but that it would open again at noon. Seeing as how bad the homeward bound traffic was I decided instead to go to L&G where we have an office, to remain there for a couple of hours before heading home. The journey to work took 3 and one half hours – the journey home a little longer. I popped into Mum’s just to see how she was and she seems much better than of late which was nice to see.

The few hours I spent at work were tedious and mostly spent updating this journal. It was hard to know where to start without any paperwork so I hope tomorrow the Drug Store’s site will be open.

Jasmine went out as per usual with Sharon but returned at 9 and went straight to bed complaining of a toothache. Later I took her some painkillers up. Squid and I watched Morgan Freeman in ‘Along Came a Spider’ a film I have seen a dozen or more times. It is good but sadly the times watched detract from the suspense.

I spoke with Dave and was disappointed to learn he has fallen behind with the illustration deadline. I knew this would happen and even though I cannot hold him as having let me down as he is doing this on a promise of payment. I still feel let down. Whether or not I find success with my books is not the point. I need some money, little or large, to filter through and I need it ASAP. My fear is that Dave will drag this on beyond February, beyond March into goodness knows only when. It isn't his fault but my expectations of what I need doing. As I understand it all the inner illustrations are done on all the books leaving just the cover illustrations to be finished. The trouble is the cover for book one isn’t completed and there are three to go.

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2012-01-02T22:15:00.000Z

I thought that today, seeing as it was the last day before returning to work, I could do some writing on Book Four – “The Politics of Turnips” but then came the call. Not from God, not an epiphany but a phone call from Mum. On Saturday ‘we’ had bought the third set of telephones in as many years which it turns out Mum wasn’t happy with. She asked if I could take her back to Sainsbury so that she could exchange it for a more suitable one. I said that I had hoped to get some work done in doors. She naturally said that was fine and that it wasn’t any trouble and that she would get a taxi the following day, even though it was expensive and that she would sort it out herself. Feeling guilty I drove to hers where I fixed the problem she had with not getting BBC 1 or BBC2 then we went to the bloody shop and changed the phone AGAIN! She’s my Mum and I love her. Enough said.

When I got back home the only one out of bed was Squid. I set about cleaning up a bit but without vacuuming for fear of making a noise and waking people. Next up was Jimbob followed shortly after by Jasmine who had no memory at all of the night before. Thumbscrew arrived soon after just as Jasmine was showering. They then went out, gods know where. I told them that I was collecting Grace but apparently Grace hadn’t told anyone. Anyway, I picked
Grace up at 3pm and took her back home. Tea was oh so typically English, scones with cream and jam. Jamie backed the scones and they were beautiful, very tasty.

Grace has got the notion in her head to rent a flat. She has seen a place in Rochford that takes her fancy and only for £596 per calendar month. She is keen to move for two reasons. The first being Brett’s sister who wants tp move back in with Grace and Brett and which Grace vehemently is against and the second is that she, much like any your female eager to have a family, is keen to find somewhere that feels like home. Personally, I think she should wait but I do understand how she feels.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2012-01-01T23:40:00.000Z

A rather odd day filled with quiet moments. Jasmine lay in until late following her night out in London with Sharon. Apparently she walked for miles. Not as far as me I ventured having trod eight miles in one evening. Not sure how that was received but I was only jesting. Jasmine spent the majority of the day ‘floating’ about. At least we seem to be on some sort of polite playing field now with few harsh words being exchanged. Thank you for small mercies.

I spent more time working on Fekenham, mostly getting the final books into shape. I also have a few ideas for future books. Six is started but only the first chapter as is another side project featuring Urpington Crust and Thomas I Tickleshaft. The new idea is a detective type novel much like EB entitled ‘Hand in Glove’ and featuring Hilary Leatherbarrow and Adam Lazarus (must check that name out to see if ‘he’ already exists.)

The evening turned weird when Jasmine went to bed having taken sleeping tablets. She patently needs them as she seldom sleeps at night anymore but whenever she takes them strange things seem to happen. The odd bangs and bumps alerted me as they did Jamie. I heard him helping his Mum back into bed several times before I went up. I found her scantily clad hanging out of Grace’s bed with her head against the pillow. I lifted her legs back onto the divan then replaced the duvet over her. This must have happened half a dozen times. Finally, I heard Jamie talking to Jasmine who had wandered into his room with her eyes still shut, fell over Cookies basket before staggering back to Grace’s room. It makes me sad to see her this way even if we no longer love each other.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-31T23:59:00.000Z

Forgot to mention my marathon walk this evening when I went to meet Grace from work. From our house to Grace’s apartment is about two miles and from there to where she works is another two miles. I cannot believe that she walks those dark roads, mostly unpaved and surrounded by bleak fields crowded with fog. Normally Brett’s Dad Pete picks Grace up but tonight he we out on the razzle celebrating the New Year. Grace said she was willing to have walked on her own but having done that lonesome walk on my own I am glad she didn’t. It is very spooky and the poor lad who was walking behind me was undoubtedly shocked when I turned to face him wondering why the hell he was following me. He wasn’t, he was on his way home from work. The street lights are few and give a weak glow. The houses are spaced at infrequent distances. The fields in between are as black as Newgate’s Knocker with trees that loom suddenly accompanied by furtive rustlings and scampering of things unseen. The home Grace works out of is an old farm house and settles back from the road with a welcome profusion of light.

We met, hugged, kissed then trod the same route back. She wanted to get some shopping from Sainsbury so I went with her. By this time my old injury had started to throb and ache and I limped a bit. Serve me right for kicking that rubberised dustbin back in ’77. When I got home my foot was killing me so I took some pain killers and snuggled up next to Charlotte on the sofa.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-31T23:09:00.000Z

With the New Year beckoning thereshould be a feeling of celebration but tonight in my house it is all ratheranti-climactic. Jasmine has gone out with Sharon. The fact they asked Charlotteto go with them who subsequently declined really is of little significance. Ihad said I would take Charlotte out but to the cinema and long before the New Year’scelebration. This I couldn’t do as Jasmine needed the car. Emily was outgetting trolleyed no doubt whereas Jamie stayed in reading his latest George R.R. Martin book. Grace and Brett were working so I sat in doors on my Todd withjust the TV for company and my laptop by my side . Fortunately there were severalgood films to watch.

It strikes me now as I sitwriting this that I have been misleading myself. I am not over Jasmine and asmuch as I want to be I think I never will be whilst I live in the same house. Ilistened to George Harrison’s final and quite possibly best album. I find hisconstant search for self-betterment, for spiritually something quite inspiring.His devotion to what he perceived as God, through his Hindu faith never everchanged even if he struggled with his own material life as he tried to balanceone with the other.

In light of this man, thisfavourite of mine of all the former Beatles, I have been re-thinking both mylife and the ‘Wilful Walks’ I wrote in 2009. They were not only a man walkingaround and writing about the county of Essex but were also a spiritual pathwhere I examined myself, my goods and bad’s as I tried to come to terms with mylife. If Dave and I do continue with the ‘London Chronicles’ then they willneed some serious revision for I want them to continue in the same manner asthey previous book. If Fekenham is my silly half hour with all its flippantnonsense then I want the Wilful Walks to reveal my personal search forspirituality and goodness.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-29T00:00:00.000Z

It feels rather strange not to be working. It is as though Iam in a limbo. Perhaps it is not me but the limbo after crimbo; that brief timebetween Christmas and New Year. Jasmine made a meal out of how I had said Ihave a fortnight off when in fact I only have 10 days or, as she made heavyweather of, seven WORKING days. Ofcourse she is right and yes, I am being overly sensitive.

Squid and I had a bust-up last night but all forgotten bydawn break. Hugs and kisses all round. I feel proud that I have accomplished thisway of being, proud that I no longer sulk for days on end. How could I havebeen so stupid? How could I have been so unpleasant to those I love? Re-readTom’s E-mail to me. He is right: less punch lines and more characterisation. Inmy defence I think if readers manage to get to books two and three andcertainly four they wll find character development abounding.

Not long now till February. I think I am ready to go. Justneed Dave to do his stuff and Paul the final edit of EB.

Watched the final episode of ‘Great Expectations’ featuringGillian Anderson. God she is attractive and what a fabulous story Dickens’weaves. Ray Winstone’s performance was incredible. I love that man’s talent. Hegrows with each role he takes. After that I, with Squid by my side watched ‘DorianGrey.’ Far more erotic than Oscar Wildes novel but still enjoyable.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-28T16:05:00.001Z

2011-12-27T23:43:00.000Z

The day after the festivitiesseems like no mans land. Life goes on but at a vastly reduced pace. Few havegone back to work and of course there is the Bank Holiday to contend with. Ispent the day writing and making ready all the Fekenham books. I still haveBook Three to indent properly but I still have a week left to do that in and ofcourse there are things still to do, housework and ironing. In fairness, Ihaven’t done a bit of either as Jasmine has been doing those dull chores. Ireally don’t mind doing them at all but not in the same almost obsessive wayshe does. I like a smart, clean house but I have come to realise there are farmore important things in life than having a neat home that is constantlysparkling.

If I needed reminding of thisthen Squid so showed me the flaw in my thinking. As Jimbob and I were sittingdown to watch Russell Crowe’s take on Robin Hood an unexpected shower poured throughthe living room ceiling. David who charged us £800 (which we still have to pay)for fixing the last leak only a couple of months ago, obviously did a prettycrap job as it is leaking again. Our posh, expensive bathroom if now spoilingour smart, modern living room. A section of wallpaper has peeled away to reveala naked wall beneath. There are two unsightly stains on the ceiling from watermarks left from the previous downpour. If for no other reason other than payingfor a qualified plumber to put right our showers and bathroom facilities I hopemy books generate some cash and soon.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-26T13:42:00.000Z

Boxing Day came with a whisper. Grace had to work as so maycare workers do as did Brett. Funny how we are all forced to live watching thepennies and yet still people find the money to gamble. Brett enjoys his job andI guess that is all that matters.

Emily was the only one, apart from my Mum, who gave BoxingDay gifts. From Mum I received £20 and from Thumbscrew a book. The day wasquiet. We had some lunch which was the only time we sat down together then Idrove to Mum’s to make sure she was alright. She does seem a lot better todayeven if her voice now seems to be fading.

With my family there is a level of guilt I feel. I think itis because I believe I should have done more to repair my marriage but I seenow that no matter what I did Jasmine would remain intractable. She simply doesnot love me or, conversely does but is so filed with bitterness she cannot findthe love within her to let things heal. Anyway, it really doesn’t matter for meand not even for Emily and Jamie but it does for Grace and even more so forCharlotte. I would eat my own foreskin, if I still had one, if it would makethings better for her.

My books are almost ready. I am now tidying them up andgetting them ready for Dave’s artwork. All the indents are now the same apartfrom Book Three which I will do during the week. I have started four otherbooks but my main focus is to get everything shipshape for February. I stillneed to get EB over to Paul for him to run his keen eye over. Once that is donethen I shall start to finish book four.

It is looking good – everything is looking FekenhamSwarberryish!

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-25T19:36:00.000Z

Christmas Day and not a mouse wasmoving. Well, we don’t have any mice but even if we did they were silent. Mumdeclined Jasmine’s invite to come over for Christmas lunch saying she was toounwell. Jasmine said Mum now has a handy excuse. This is simply not the case asMum gave me the money to buy Jasmine’s gift in the vain hope she and I mightstill be able to make a go of it. Mum is a Christian and without wishing to beunkind is superstitious believing in things that don’t exist and praying for amiracle that will not happen.

Everyone got what they wanted andsome got more than the wanted or bargained for. Squid had helped my Mum selecta robe for Thumbscrew which appeared to be one designed for twelve year old. Iknow Thumbscrew really didn’t want it but managed to keep a good face. Graceand Brett seemed a little tense which was aided by Jimbob’s stupid notion ofacting so fucking miserable as if he was determined to upset everyone else asmuch as himself.

Jasmine gave me nothing. My Mumalso went without. I should have bought something but normally Jasmine buys thegifts even though she never discusses anything with me and hasn’t done foryears. She watches me all the time waiting to pounce on the first dumb thing Isay. I no longer feel anything for her but do not want to turn into the bitter,twisted woman she has sadly become.

It was odd without Mum there butI got on with it. We even played games which was fun.

I got four CD’s: The Civil Wars,Bjork, Peter Gabriel and Florence and the machine. Those with a couple of booksand I Am as happy as a pig in muck!

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-24T21:35:00.000Z

Christmas Eve, a sense of magicshould permeate but it doesn’t. Rather than that feeling of excitement there isa sense of foreboding. We are all of us under close scrutiny as Jasmine watchesall we do with a critical eye. He neurosis is palpable, contagious even but Iresisted it as best I could looking instead to Squid for how to feel. She issky high with anticipation and rightly so. Jimbob is the reverse. He is theepitome of Scrooge. He acts like an old man who lost a fortune many Christmasesago and whose wife ran off with Santa. Jimbob hates, or so he tells us, thefestivities. I think it all an act, one he now has to maintain.

Squid and I took Mum out toSainsbury’s for the umpteenth time and I confess I am begging to grow tired ofthat particular supermarket chain even if it is one of my favourites. (How cananyone have a favourite supermarket?). Mum’s loyalty card paid for her weeksshopping so I guess that was a positive. Mum is still very unwell from yetanother chest infection. It has been a month now and she looks grey andlistless as if each step is a pain to take. We stopped countless times whilstshe battled from breath. In the end I asked Squid to take my Mum to the café asI queued up to pay.

Later, after Mum had been droppedback at her bungalow. Squid and I went to Southend where I bought Thumbscrew acopy of the latest Florence and the Machine CD. I also got Jasmine a bottle ofJ’aDor. I hope she likes it.

In the evening Squid and I watched Miss Marple which was really quite spooky.

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2011-12-23T22:17:00.002Z

I remember as a teenager beingfurious with God. The bible my Godparents had given me at by Christening andsigned by them I tore in half and left, very theatrically, on the kitchen worksurface for my Mother to find. It was all rather painful and had little to dowith gods and everything to do with Mum rejecting the way I chose to dress,wear my hair and the music I listened to. She felt somewhat betrayed by myapparently ‘Nancy boy’ ways detesting seeing a male with long hair. It was, asI said a painful time. I so wish I knew then what I know now. I know Mum blamesherself but it really wasn’t her fault or mine but rather the times, fresh andnew as they were then, that confused and bruised us both. I see her now sofrail and stooped and my heart fills with an unbelievable love. It is not thesame love I have for my children though. It is close but less unconditional.

My dislike of Christianity continuedfor so many years, well into my thirties and possibly even my forties. I lookat the world now, the world we (and let’s stop blaming politicians andfinancial institutions for all our woes and take some of the responsibility) inhabitwhile investing all the wrong philosophies. Greed is a funny concept and I reallydon’t think we as a society have become greedy but we certainly seem to havelost so many important values.

God is just a concept. I cannotbring myself intellectually to believe in a creator but if you look at the coreof the Monotheists faith you discover a similar belief as shared by Hindus, Buddhists,Sikhs, Wiccans and those whose lifestyle could be described as Taoist and/or Confuciusist;that belief is tolerance, caring, love and also a lack of avarice.

I sold all my albums. This mayseem nothing but they had been collected since the sixties and numbered inthousands. They meant everything to me. I do not miss them. The music is stillthere in my mind and on the radio and with the advent of modern technology onmy PC. I used to earn a good salary, better than most and I bought so manythings I didn’t need. I hope to earn that kind of money again but not so I canwaste it as I did before. I want security for me and my family. I do not wantwardrobes filled with clothes, shelves filled with CD,s.

Going without has and continues tobe painful but it is not as bad as I thought. When the tide turns and myfortunes return then will come the real test but for now my Chi is positive andmy attitude to others and myself better than it has ever been. Perhaps I havefound some form of God?

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-22T21:28:00.000Z

Today Brian, Lee and Chris after working the day, left for the holiday break. Brian will be working from home and Chris from basingstoke office. Lee will be relaxing in doors with his wife and family. I find it quite incredible the way clients are rushing through jobs that are now apparently urgent all at the last minute. Surely they must have know about them before this week?
I still have to get Jasmine a present so must go to Lakeside tomorrow to see what they have. I have no idea what to get her and neither does Thumscrew. Tweezil was more help but the gifts she thought appropriate are now out of my financial reach. Gone are the days of buying extravagent gifts.
Apart from the insane flood of work it has been quiet at the Fizzing drug Store as most who work here have gone for the two week break.
I thought it would be a nice touch to have a candle placed inside an ornate glass jar to sit on the upper landing. I lit the thing and left it there brightly casting its shadowy glow. Moments later Jasmine appeared looking haunted and scared. She was concerned that my Mum maybe coming for Christmas. I assured her she wasn't. Ironically only weeks ago she was asking me to get my Mum to come. Now Jasmine looks appaled by the thought. Poor Mum left alone at 87 at Christmas. I will get over one way or another.
Jasmine is now behaving like Grace Poole. It was disturbing to see her looking as she did tonight.
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2011-12-21T23:47:00.000Z

Tonight was the company Christmas meal. Both teams for Eagle and Henry and the Fizzing Drug Store went out to a restaurant in Surrey; the oddly named Spaghetti Tree. A daft name if I ever heard one - less tree and more cacti. The staff, apart from one, were prickly, the food rubbery and served by a waiter who must have attended Basil Fawlty’s master class in bad manners. As the food was paid for by Red Astaire I can hardly complain but I did feel a little embarrassed on behalf of Helen who invited me and who paid for the whole shebang. The company was good but the meal wasn’t.

Christmas is upon us but I feel little of the cheer I should. I am dreading spending the festivities with my family. Not that I don’t want to but the atmosphere will be undoubtedly frosty. Jasmine will expect us all to behave in a certain manner which in turn will mean no one truly relaxes as they should. Maybe I am being unfair, maybe it won’t be like that at all but I still fear the worst.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-20T22:37:00.000Z

Dave is now working hard on the artwork. Most of his effortshave so far been spent naturally enough on Book One. Cover is underway and he is now working on the inner sections too. I now have to step up a gear as well. I now need to regularalise all indents. I think, from looking at the many books I have, the most commono method is to indent by two characters and not the four or five I have erratically used. Also, I need to remove any page numbers as when the book is uploaded the page number is bound to increase as the format decreases in size but extendeds in length. Bloody hard work this but enormous fun too.

Watched 'Nowhere Boy' last night which really nails Lennon's formative teenage years and doesn't present the Beatle as being all sweetness and light but as a sometimes foul mouthed, abusive and on occassion, violent man. Good film..
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-19T23:45:00.000Z

Dave now working furiously on Fekenham. Doing some great stuff too. the first inner page draft has been 'roughed.' I like it BUT it needs working on. Both Dave and my fear is how the size will look when pro-down to fit Kindle. Will the 'newspaper article' be legible? Maybe needs to go on seperate page with the body text increased in size? Possibly need the fake ad's also made larger and on a seperate page. Dave is really concerned at how a Jpeg will look. They are at best OK but as any one in design or print will know, not the best way to present artwork. Still, print is not the electronic medium so maybe we are worrying

Unnecessarily

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-18T23:50:00.000Z

Having paid a great deal of lip service regarding chopping down the trees in the back garden I, along with Jimbob Badfinger, finally got round to doing it.

In actual fact I had to wait for hours as Jimbob went to have his haircut. For a bloke whose hair is receding as quickly as my own I would have thought he had little to trim but he was gone a for tow hours. When he returned, after having had lunch, we set too it.

I had borrowed Ray’s ladders and Jimbob climbed them tying a rope around the limb for me to tug on to prevent it going through Ray’s shed. This took minutes even with Ray chirping in the background with his instructions. I was all very Mrs Bucket like.

One limb down it was the turn of the willow. Jamie sliced of many branches which I in turn sliced into smaller logs. The trouble with willows is they grow such wispy bits which are hard, if not impossible to saw. I simply folded them as best I could then chucked them onto the ever growing stack of wood in the middle of the garden.

Jimbob then decided to really take of a large branch which must have measured a thirty inch circumference. We both thought that tying the rope around the branch would enable me, as I had been delegated the task, of tugging the branch as it fell away for next doors fence panel. Alas the plans of mice and men. The branch fell like the proverbial pulling me flat onto my backside. It also crashed into the fence panel destroying the upper section. Fearing a falling out with my next door neighbours I hastened round to apologise but Sonia, as informed by her daughter, had gone out to see what the loud crash had been. Fortunately both she and husband Martin are good sorts and after I had said we would pay for the panel she laughed at the wreckage and debris out attempts at tree felling had left on her back lawn. We cleaned it all up and as we left I even had the cheek to try and sell her my Kindle books. She smiled sweetly but I could tell was having none of it!

Dinner was a stew, veggie for me, and was simply delicious. I had a huge dumpling that a family good have eaten. Smashing!

I do wish she would sit with me in the lounge. It gets so lonely down there when I am not writing. Jimbob came down a couple of times and also Squid but, as much as I love them, I miss having someone – a partner, to talk to.

‘Hancock’ was on TV. It is one of the better ‘superhero’ films. There was also the last in the franchise of Star Trek films but the damn film kepy breaking up. So much for digital TV.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-17T23:06:00.000Z

Unusually for me I slept in today. I first woke at eight, went down stairs to have my injection followed by breakfast but then, as no one was up went back to bed. I woke up when Jimbob came in and then the phone rang. Jasmine was going to be back late. It was eleven fifteen which has to be an all-time record for me. It felt wonderfully indulgent.

Things seem slightly better between Jasmine and I. A sort of peace exists that is welcome even if fragile. Jasmine seems marginally better in herself and has been for two job interviews one of which has offered her a position there to which she readily accepted. After the horrid business with the last Pharmacy and the appalling way they treated their staff she no longer wants to pursue that career. I find that an awful waste as she worked hard to get her qualifications. The owners of the chemists in Eastwood Road Rayleigh should be ashamed of themselves but I doubt they have the capacity to feel such emotions.

Another visit to Sainsbury’s which is rapidly becoming tedious. I love my Mum and will do anything for her but the repetition is killing me. She seems to have steeled herself to the fact that she will be spending Christmas on her own. I think it is a crime but I seem powerless to change things.

I took Brett and Grace back to ours for diner. I like Brett the more I know him. He has no ambitions whatsoever and I find that odd but he is a polite well natured soul and a welcome addition to the family. Anyway, it really doesn’t matter what we think of him as Grace is still crazy about him.

Had a bit of a bust up with Jasmine; I so wanted to show how willing I was to get into the spirit of Christmas that I suggested taking the glass vase that sits on the kitchen table, removing the fake flowers and putting them somewhere safe. Her instant reaction was to suggest that I had never liked the flowers and wanted to get rid of them. I don’t. I like the flowers. I just wanted to impress her with my idea to place a large candle into the glass vase then sit on the window ledge on the top floor landing. I said things I shouldn’t. I still react to easily.

Then Thumbscrew and Jasmine fell out over something equally stupid. At this time of my life all I want is peace and love. All we seem to have is constant tension. Squid gets so upset by all the foolishness and I found her again crying. If for no other reason I will do my utmost for her. Why should she suffer?

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-16T23:30:00.000Z

Always take the weather with you is a fine sentiment one I could have done with today. It was bitter cold this morning when I started out. By the time I hit the Dartford crossing sleet was falling, large droplets of rain mixed with flakes of snow. Although I find snow magical, sleet is anything but. Lorries flew past me throwing up dirt and muck that coated the yellow beetle in a grim splattering of filth. The further along I travelled the less it sleeted as the conditions turned to snow. Kent had a mild covering as did Surrey but as I turned into Mill Lane then left toward Walton Oaks so there was more evidence of snow. I was quite amazed as I drew up in front of the security barrier as snow was thick and a sign outside had been placed to warn people to be careful when walking from their cars as it was slippery under foot.

Thank god for a hot coffee when I arrived at my desk. The snow outside was falling in large clumps, the grounds were covered in a blanket of white. I had long been looking forward to seeing Paul again and meeting his family but if the journey of some 99 miles was to be like this then maybe I should postpone or put it off altogether.

As the morning moved on so an unbelievably fast thaw took place, by noon the snow was melting and the coating of white was turning to puddles.

I hadn’t realised how faraway Dorset is. The trip took over two and a half hours. Paul looked nervous when I arrived. He welcomed me in taking my coat and scarf. I was greeted also by Maisie and Kathleen who sneaked a look at me as I stood at the door. Maisie is a pretty blonde whilst Kathleen a red head. Michelle was as pretty and as small as Paul had said she was. Paul had baked pizza and prepared some salad which was kind of him. After we sat down and chatted. I was keen to learn more about Canada as the only info I ever get is from Eric and that always strikes me as being very ‘French Canadian’ opposed to Michelle who really seems to be the stereotypical ‘English Candain’ I had heard of.

Both Kathleen and Maisie seemed in boisterous mood probably due to being cooped up in a bungalow with a strange man. I could see Paul’s obvious concerns and typical Englishness as both his daughters climbed over furniture. It is something my Mum would frown at, my Grandmother comment upon but I think there are far worse things kids can do and besides, they made me laugh. The joy I felt when Kathleen held her arms out to me saying the first word I truly comprehended, ‘Hug’ followed by a kiss was fantastic. I think Maisie has got the impression that this Englishman is really mad. She ‘cooked’ me cake made of some sort of plastic malleable gunk . Of course I ate it and who wouldn’t? It would have been rude not too.

The journey home was easy enough and I arrived in time to cook myself my dinner.

Thumbscrew had some freinds round, Sam and Gemma, both of the gay brigade. Thumbscrew asked me if I would take them to 'Zinc,' a club in Southend. I said I would then settled down to watch TV. Th enoise the girls made was unbelivable. I though they had all gone back to being twelve years old again. Giggling and banging with music playing. Then followed some horseplay withSam and Gemma removing Thumbscrew's bra which they threw out her bedroom window.
I felt really uncomfortable which I find hard to explain. I didn't bother me when they were kids but at 28 it just seemed odd.
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-14T18:32:00.000Z

Dave sent through another rough draft. He asked some pertinent questions about fonts and page sizes too. All in all looks promising. Once I have approved this and possibly one or two more roughs, he will start the process of painting the cover leaving it i ratio for reduction to Kindle. He is aware of the sizing issues and being a creative designer and reprograhics man hopefully knows what he's doing 'cos i don'T!
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-13T21:20:00.000Z

Spent more time on ‘The Politics of Turnips’ writing about 500 words. Still need to re-read Book Three especially the ending so as to get a better recall of at what stage I had left the characters. Most I remember by for continuity sake I really should check.

Jasmine was out again tonight with Sharon which has to be a good thing. Thumbscrew tells me Jasmine has a job interview tomorrow which also sounds encouraging.

Mum still recovering from another bout of a chest infection. She was prescribed anti-biotic’s over a fortnight ago but still is struggling to breathe. The nurses have given her a nebuliser which helps. When she stands up now she has problems to maintain her balance and no longer stands as tall as she once did. Hopefully she will be well enough to go shopping on Saturday if not me and the kids will have to do it.

Not heard from Mark so I am unsure how the latest venture (the discharge magazine) is going. I would still like to do it but finding it hard to keep so many creative balls in the air. I would also like to produce another ISSUU magazine that is about spirituality. Not some sentimental pseudo-faith thing but something grounded that concerns itself with a broad spectrum of beliefs: from Buddha to Hinduism to Monotheism to Tao and including Confucius – a magazine called ‘Whispering Grass.’

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-12T22:09:00.000Z

Met Grace from her place of work. She disclosed that she is growing tired of working in an old people’s home. As much as she enjoys her job the thought of seeing yet another elderly person die is proving hard to bear. I so wish she had been more studious when at college. She could have followed in her big sisters footsteps and had a career she valued. Very few jobs are joys to work every day but it is quite horrible to have to do something you no longer like.

Mum tried phoning Jasmine but the latter is still too deeply depressed to want to talk to anyone let alone my Mum. I fear now that Christmas will be a fractured family affair with me spending time with both my family and my Mum. So very sad especially as this may be Mum’s last year with us.

Heard from C via E-mail. I thought I may have scuppered another long distance friendship but she informed me this not the case. I hope she buys the books.

I should have spent the evening working on book four but still need to catch-up with my re-reading of three before I begin. It was deathly quiet when I got in - Thumbscrew out, Jimbob upstairs watching his TV as was Jasmine. The only one to greet me later on was darling Squid. I am so lucky to have a child like her.

Boris and Ken are squaring up to each other. I saw this on an E-mail from Smoke, the indie magazine that writes London and its evirons...
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-11T23:20:00.000Z

. Dave sent me the first 'group draft' for the front cover f Fekenham. The only changes I want is for Ethel to not have a middle - she is sexy but fat and Elivis Linkthorpe doesn't have a beard. I like what I see

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-10T23:43:00.000Z

As I left to take me and Squid to Mum’s, Jasmine asked me if I could be back by 5.30. Very unusual for her to ask that and so I asked her why. She was going out for the evening with some people she used to work with which I see as a positive thing. With clinical depression the slump can last for weeks so it is good to see her engaging with friends even if she was having anxiety attacks.

The bloody vacuum needed cleaning. Within its collection of filth were enough dog hairs to have knitted a scarf along with two pairs of ladies pants. I cleaned the ruddy thing out then went to put the top back on the cylinder only to find it had jammed shut. Tired pulling the damn thing apart but was in fear of my life that it would break and we simply cannot afford to buy a replacement. I left the thing for Jimbob to look at.

More letters from debt collectors. The thought terrifies me as does the image of two large men turning up at my door to take away the TV of sofa or whatever it is they take in compensation for what’s owed. The TV is Thumbscrew’s but the sofa’s aren’t. How I yearn for the days when I had money. What a fool I have been. To have inherited all that money, to have earn’ t a good salary and too have squandered it all now sound like madness. It didn’t at the time as I thought, or rather I didn’t think things could get so bad.

The evening was spent with Squid watching for two hours (Oh what joy) the X-Factor. Earlier on whilst a t Mum’s she had sat on my lap and cried. When I asked her why she was crying she said she missed Grace and she wished that Jasmine and I and Jasmine and Mum could all be friends. I felt like shit when I saw her so upset. Watching the bloody X-factor was my hair shirt.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-09T23:37:00.000Z

. I was both chuffed and concerned when I heard David Cameron had used the veto. A part of me, the bullish patriot, was glad to see someone at last saying no to Europe. The other part of me felt a niggling doubt over what appears to be an extreme action. In fairness this is only the early stages of negotiation but as much as I would love to see Great Britain stand on its own the fact we have spent billions on joining, albeit on the periphery, would be foolhardy just to up and go even in light of the ticking bomb that is the European Union. The reaction to Cameron’s stance has been favourable among fellow Brits who I think like that bulldog spirit. Churchill though was fighting an enemy, a fascist state who threatened the world; modern Europe may not be everyone’s cup of tea but they are not the enemy.

I tend to think Cameron’s sudden rise in popularity owes more to his inability to negotiate a good deal rather than it does his Churchillian tendencies. Margaret Thatcher was a Euro sceptic but she managed, as did her bastard offspring Tony Blair, to win a powerful position for the UK in Europe but without us having to go the full hog and sign-up. Leaving now I think would cause us enormous problems not only with our trading (all that is legally covered) but more importantly with America who rely on the UK to be their plenipotentate in Europe. Our position in the world owes a great deal to us being a European nation who has one foot in Europe whilst maintaining the so called special relationship.

If we want to leave then we should have planned for it by reconnecting with the rest of the Commonwealth to ensure we still have someone to trade with. The fact we ever let out Commonwealth connections drift has always amazed me. Fancy having a nation like India with whom we share such a great history to simply sit there.

It is very different in the world of Fekenham of course. The United States are still the mighty power but are held in balance by a federal Europe that includes three powerful nations: Russia, Germany and France with Spain, Italy and Greece the ‘new boys.’ Then we have Imperial China that still has a dictatorial Emperor whose family have for years been increasing their empire conquering countries such as Korea, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia etc.. Albion (our United Kingdom) is part of the Commonwealth that include a United Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

Fiction is so much more appealing than reality especially as have to live through the bad times.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-08T23:02:00.000Z

With the financial crisis still impacting on my life I start to wonder, as many others too must be wondering, if the life I/we lead is really meant to be how it is. Is there not a better way? I live in a country that is if not the most generous than for sure in the top two but also a country that has fallen under the Thatcher spell whilst paradoxically still believing in a welfare state, created by Clement Attlee. In some bizarre way the two have linked together.

Margaret Thatcher regenerated a country whose economy was flagging. She also restored national pride at a time when there was none to speak of. She also inspired a new age of entrepreneurial spirit which mutated into a nation of ‘I wants’ who worship money more than any other false god. Nowadays we all believe we should have the big house, a car for him, a car for her, two or three holidays a year, clothes bought on a regular basis and at great cost, TV’s, DVD, IPhones, PC’s and satellite TV. That’s without health provided on tap.

Clement Attlee, the only visionary in modern politics, laid the foundation stone for the modern welfare state. It was meant to a system that helped those in need or who had fallen on hard times. It was not meant to be, as it now is, a way for societal ticks to feed off the many by abusing the very thing that was created to help those that needed it. Women having seven children who claim benefit so that they might live in seven room houses is a corruption of something I hold dear.

Since 1979 we in the UK have gone global. Led by market forces perhaps and some, myself included, would say all to the good. Also in the same time frame we Brits, leading the field for once, have turned into an island filled with a population who not only want but expect, as if by divine right, not only a decent lifestyle but one that offers security no matter what.

Something for nothing is not how it works. Something for all that offers help should not be abused.

Found out today, even if every other bugger seemed to know already, that the Fizzing Drug Store are making 42% of their workforce redundant. At least that is how I understand it. 42% means something like 425 people losing the livelihoods which in turn impacts on those left to perform the duties of those departing.

I think this is both a knee jerk reaction to the recession but also a callous way to trim costs. The modern world has lost all sense of priority as the wheels of commerce grind on. Where is the soul? Where is the spirituality? Does human life mean so little in the bigger picture? The answer seems to be, yes..

2011-12-07T18:43:00.001Z

I have noted of late that those twins of deception, the two C’s in politics in case we thought there was just one, Cameron and Clegg, seem less joined at the hip than they had. Perhaps it is the collapse of the Euro that has caused the separation as both have hugely different opinions on the union. As the moths flutter and the French pass the blame on to the Anglo-Saxon financial system (us and the Yanks presumably) matters between fellow Europeans is becoming increasingly fraught. Greeks have always felt to outsiders even though they desperately want to be part of that club. Now it is Germany and France who are going to run the show. Let’s hope Dashing Dave can play the UK’s cards like a poker hand. He needs to be tough, resolute and determined. We surely do not want to disenfranchise the big two old enemies of ours but neither do we want to concede to any formal initiative that sucks us further into something that seems to be on the brink of collapse.

Apparently, Jasmine fears a return to work. I hope she soon feels better and changes her mind for without her income we will lose the house.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-06T23:23:00.000Z

I have been thinking a lot lately, when not hard at it writing, about discharge. I started the site in November 2005. It has been six years of mostly fun but more recently frustration. I have been unable to contribute as I would have liked to, nor do I have the means to produce art as I once did. I have decided to leave the ‘internet’ side of discharge but hopefully will be able to create a monthly or possibly bi-monthly magazine that can be published on ISSUU. Currently the ISSUU site has had 85,000 visitors with some 15,000 reading my first chapbook. By no means a huge following but big enough to act as a spring board to launch a magazine. With luck, having spoken with Mark Scammell I may be able to edit this project whilst her supplies laydowns and pagination. As editor I would then have to enlist the help of other people to write in frequent articles of up to 1,000 words. 500 may be better. By using the existing “discharge family” I could then spread the net a bit and invite other artists to publish their work to enable them t raise their profile but also allow us to make some money to keep the project moving along. Discharge on the internet would then remain under Ruela’s guidance. I think it could work. The only problem might be being able to produce a magazine on a monthly basis. We will have to see. Hopefully, I will be meeting up with Mark over the Christmas break.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-05T22:38:00.000Z

They flutter wildly above me. White winged and thin. Birds of imagination. A trick of the dark hours that appear when reality collides with creation. A lone candle flickers by the TV. A set of ceiling spotlights colour the fiction that fills the page. The house creaks as the heating slows its heartbeat as night slips in silent as death. It is like a death in some ways but the truth of a fictional deadline is my engine. The final chapter has been a long time coming dodging dim fears dancing dangerous around my lack of words…is 70,000 words enough? But it isn’t 70k it is more like 67k! This is Kindle for Christ sake, stop whinging, stop whining, get on with it. Write.

And so I did and finally it is done. But it isn’t. I now have to re-read and amend as quickly as possible then create cover, title page, dedication, thanks, credits etc. etc. etc.

The moon is smiling far beyond me. The stars wheel and spin. Those dizzying heights are what I want and I’ll be damned if I won’t succeed. One way or another I will get this done.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-04T23:17:00.000Z

I awoke as the alarm went off at six but laid were I was debating whether I needed to get up then or leave it to half six. It takes about an hour for me to get to London and I tossed around the idea of parking in Worship Street (another old haunt) EC2 but when I got closer to Wapping seeing the time was eight thirty decided instead to park outside Gastronomica near to Wapping Station. Parked the car and caught the Overground to Whitechapel. Unfortunately, the Hammersmith and City line wasn’t running so I got off at Shoreditch and walked down to Liverpool Street.

We met, as we always do nowadays, in Pontis. He had a bacon and egg sarnie and me an egg equivalent Two coffees later, having discussed politics to near death, we had another drink, coffee and tea this time then went off to the Barbican where we settled down to discuss the cover for Fekenham. At the end of it, at about 2pm, we had chewed over which sketches I was best pleased with and how to present the collection of characters I want for book one. The idea is for a group ‘photograph’ type image with Crust Manor in the background and with an airship flying past. In the image will be Arthur Bentwhistle, Verity Lambush, Ralph Ramhard, Ethel Blowvalve, Vicar Linkthorpe and Brigadier Largepiece.

Dave’s preliminary sketches are amazing. I had told him that in my mind Verity looks like Helen Mirren. However, I also said Verity is a woman who looks prim and proper but secretly harbours a vampish sexual appetite. Dave thought Helen Mirren, gorgeous and sensual as she is, didn’t quite fit the bill and so based his sketch on Gillian Anderson from a part she played from Dickens: Lady Dedlock.

He was right. Helen would be more than welcome to snuggle up with me beneath mu eiderdown but Gillian Anderson in the role he found the image from is ideal. Suddenly Verity Lambush nee Mildred lives and breathes. His pencil sketch is perfect.

He also had problems with Ethel whose character I had described adding she was a bit like Hattie Jaques. Hattie was an incredible actress and Dave’s sketches caught her admirably but she just wasn’t the right face even if she was the right size. For Ethel, Dave produced a blonde with a very naughty face which is Ethel personified. Most of the other characters he followed my ideas for: Largepiece as Frank Thornton, Ralph Ramhard as a sort of Tom Selleck but without the tash. For Arthur Bentwhistle he produced, as asked, Alun Armstrong but with a bigger nose. Then he added Leonard Rossiter as Rigsby’s body….FANTASTIC! For Vicar Elvis Linkthorpe he struggled. Again my vision was of a wackier version, more hippyish, James May. Dave sketched the man but it simply wasn’t right. He then showed me his sketch of a young Donald Sutherland which was ideal. Once he sticks the head on to the body he had prepared dressed in a leather jacket, kilt and DM’s and BINGO!

Really pleased with what he has so far done.

We spoke of the schedule which he seems fine with and also the other bits that need doing for the text pages. Again he is confident he can achieve end of Jan.

It was a good day even though he does still seem a little depressed. If only I or someone could find some clients for his design business.

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Brigadier Humphrey Largepiece

Ethel Blowvalve

Verity Lambush

2011-12-03T21:16:00.000Z

Thumbscrew went to Brighton today suggesting Jasmine drive down tomorrow to meet her there. The only concern I had was for Jasmine to drive to Sussex in our car as it is in dire need of a service. I do it every day but that’s up to me. I asked her if she wanted to go and suggested I would catch a train to meet Dave but she said no. I think the depression (now certified as clinical) is still there, still having its negative effect.

This weekend we all went to Mum’s: Tweezil, Squid, Brett and me. No gardening even though there are still bits to do. Sadly, I have now had my fill of Sainsbury’s, nice shop though it is. I do wish we could all do something slightly different each Saturday other than walk around a supermarket.

Tweezil tried to persuade my Mum to come for Christmas. I think she will but she genuinely is concerned about the reception she may get. I don’t think she would as we all, apart for Ebenezer Jimbob, enjoy the Yuletide festivities.

I wrote a bit more to EB and am looking forward to meeting Dave tomorrow but also slightly concerned. His and my idea of urgent or schedule differs. I will have to make sure he realises what is required.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-02T17:53:00.001Z

Today dragged by. Still quiet at work though signs are there of POA about to strike soon. There were lots of tedious admin to do which I always struggle with. I did all I could as quickly as possible. By 11am I started to fidget with boredom so turned to writing more of EB. The problem with that is you still get infrequent phone calls that distract you. I had to remember on several occasions that the client phoning me was not an irritating doo- dangle and not someone I should readily bite the head off for interrupting a man at work.

Later, as I typed I listened to more from “Barton Hollow” the effect of which was to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Beautiful sounds from two incredible singer/songwriters. Then I played some Laura Veirs who is another fantastic singer/songwriter and whose latest album, following on after seven masterpieces, is a series of covers of old traditional songs. Again, quite beautiful.

Brian played solitaire most of the day then we both became excited when the editor of ‘One’ Magazine phoned to discuss our managing the next editions print run. Excited? Over statement. Slightly, mildly interested maybe.

Not sure what I am doing tomorrow, cleaning most likely then taking the brood to Mum’s. Hey ho!

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-01T23:59:00.000Z

Well here it is and then it wasgone, the first day of 2012. Funny thing is it feels just like any other day ofany other year. It is hard to conceive though of how fast life is now passing.This rapid passage of time fills me with both wonder and dread. I want so muchto have committed to life something of value and I don’t feel I have. Of coursethere are my children and I thank whatever random force it was that gave themto me but beyond them what else have I done? Pretty much nothing. Success hasbeen a scenic railway ride. I have had moderate success on occasion beforedipping down into the cesspit of life. No, that is wrong. This moment now isthe worse I have been through and I should remember where I live which wewouldn’t have if not for a job, never career, that paid damn good money. Newsof the World was a good period but I led me to think that such a salary was myright. It wasn’t. I have been chasing that cash cow ever since and, at times,catching it, matching it only for it to disappear like smoke. Mum spoke of myinheritance recently, a subject I detest thinking about let alone discussing.After all has been set straight I should have more than £100,000. The last setof inheritance was three times that and every penny was spent with none of itbeing put away for a rainy day. I shall not make that mistake again.

I did little of any worth today.Put some washing on, did some cleaning and some washing up but nothing much beyondthat. I am some 7,000 words into BookFour – “The Politics of Turnips.” That amounts of two chapters – not bad going.My main focus remains getting the first four books published via Kindle.

This evening has been weird. Inever watch, or seldom at any rate, soap operas but tonight I did. Pat Butcherof East Enders fame ‘died’ tonight. I found it rather moving.

Jasmine went to bed early havingtaken sleeping tablets. She took to Grace’s old bed, a single, which shecontinually fell out of. As she did so there was a loud bang as she hit thefloor. This was accompanied by a yelp. I must have gone up several times to seeif she was all right as did Jamie. Twice I covered her up with the duvet, oncehelped her back in to bed but it was the horrifying spectacle of seeing hercareen from wall to wall as she stumbled like a drunk as she attempted to getback from Jamie’s room (gods know what she was doing in there) to Grace’s room.She looked like one of the ‘Living Dead’ a Zombie. Really upset me seeing herlike that.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-01T20:56:00.000Z

I suppose there should have been a fanfare, something to announce the coming festive season but December crept in like a nun. It was grey today, wet, windy and raining, all to the good as we are, or will be by next summer, suffering a drought. It makes me laugh when I read this just as it did when I heard the chap on the radio telling us we need more rain. He’s right of course and I try to pass the horrid wet day off as being of benefit but I hate rainy days. I much prefer the cold.

Spoke with Dave who I am seeing on Sunday. He sounds very down in the dumps. Still no work and no money coming in, his Christmas will be a bleak one. I feel awful for him but seem unable to help as I said I would. I have tried to find printers who might want someone like him, or rather a company like his, to produce design work but they too are suffering having to pull back and account for every penny. I feel a little guilty as the deal was that he would produce illustrations for my books and I would either pay when the money from the sale of the stories comes in OR by finding him clients. I have failed to do the later. I will try again to see if anyone is out there.

EB is done. I now need to re-read it and either fill in any bits that need filling in or, conversely take out anything that is not needed. Then, when Paul gets back to Canada, I will send the finished story on for editing. This leaves me December and January to finish all that is needed on the four books and then to get cracking on the fourth Fekenham book. Four books on Kindle will be fine. Five would have been better. I do not want to sacrifice continuity or quality in my mad attempt to publish by February so will concede that book four will have to wait.

I am told Jasmine seems slightly better. I don't get to see her so have to listen to Thumbscrew. Apparently, she saw a friend the other night and even though dreaded meeting her had a good time. In my heart I wish she could find someone, some wealthy man who give her security and happiness as I seem unable to give her either. It is ironic though that she again is suffering with depression having been neurotic all her life for when I was suffering she simply didn't recognise my hatefulness as part of the depression but just as me being unpleasant. She needs to be secure and I have never been able to supply that for her.

Money is still impossibly tight. Red letters arrive almost every day. The sight of them makes my stomach shrivel. How I wish I could time travel. Go back just a few years when money was not such an issue. My hope for the books is nothing more than a way to lay my hands on some cash. Fingers crossed it works

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-12-01T16:16:00.001Z

My heart is where my hat is and my hat is in my hand

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-30T22:43:00.000Z

Today is the first day of strikes by the public union sector. As much as I sympathise with the strikers I do not believe strikes resolve anything and impacts on others who are equally needy. Thumbscrew went to work. She too thinks the unions have a valid point but believes her first duty is to her patients. I think she is right but this of course is what subsequent governments rely on; the fact that poorly paid and essential servants to us all are made to feel a moral obligation to work. The NHS is a jewel in our crown. It is not there as a free dispenser to the fakers, abusers and hypochondriacs but a vital tool to ensure that we have a healthy nation but also a workforce able to function. Discussion and communication are the only way to resolve issues and both union and government have been sorely wanting in that respect.

I feel very proud of Thumbscrew’s stance.

Apparently, when asked in a recent opinion poll, the British public all see a better future ahead and, even in light of the financial straits we now find ourselves in , all still feeling positive. There is though an air of negativity that is almost palpable. Not so much that things are forever to be black and gloomy but of reviewing and changing the way our capitalist society functions. If you listen to a historian they would tell you it has all happened before. The fifties and sixties were a time of growth only for the bubble to burst in the seventies which led to the worst financial time Britain had ever seen in the eighties. Milk Snatcher put the economy back on track even if only the South of England benefited from it. This depression, and let’s face it that is how it feels, is something different. It is global and effecting even China. This is not the fault of Gordon Brown or the Labour government and it was good to hear George Osbourne say so on the Today Programme. Too often politicians play the finger pointing game. It was good to hear some honesty for once.

The system does need looking at. It needs not so much a ‘strong leader,’ (I think I have had a belly full of those ego driven tosspots) but a visionary who sees not just the problems in front of him/her but the future potential realised now.

I am close to finishing EB. I spent a couple of hours tonight writing and the story has now reached one of its conclusions if not the final climax. It is looking good. Now I have to re-read the whole thing again to see if it needs any tweeking.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-30T13:02:00.001Z

A rather abstract image of our old Scotland haunt. I wish those days could be played over. With the hills behind us that we used to climb, the Irish Sea in front of us and silence all around. We would spend our winters and spring holidays here then go to the Continent for our summer vacations. This old Laird's hunting lodge was the ideal retreat for families wanting to rest or for writers wanting peace and quiet to create. Beautiful.

2011-11-29T22:29:00.000Z

Even quieter today at work. Had the misfortune to have to attend a European telecom which was as much fun as spreading tapioca over my feet. Fact tapioca spreading would have been a huge gas in comparison. The whole telecom bordered on coma inducing boredom, so bad was it that for large periods I put the phone down so I could raise quotes. Thankfully, no questions were fired at me so I managed to get away with it. Funny the way some people seem to find a form of grandeur from being involved in such monotonous drivel. It all struck me as some members deriving a feeling of importance by being involved. I could imagine them entertaining their friends during a meal informing them in some grand way of the vitally important global meetings they had to attend. Some people are too easily impressed.

The rest of the day ran slow, I managed to do some stuff for myself, running off yet another manuscript of Book Three which I then mailed to myself. I now have a growing collection of brown paper envelopes dating back to the last six years filled with similar written pages, at least copyright is secure.

Wrote another 840 words for chapter thirty eight. An unexpected diversion but one that makes perfect sense for the route the book has taken me down. This now means there will be 40 chapters in total with only 70,000 making for the entire content of the book. A short novel but one I am pleased with.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-28T22:32:00.000Z

Incredibly quiet at work which concerns me, not that I fear anything like redundancies but more the fact that a storm something is brewing. POA maybe? I dislike having nothing to do, I feel that worm wriggle in my panic room when work dries up.

The days are drawing in releasing dawn so much later than I like. Darkness lingers long after seven in the morning and outstays its welcome well before four. I wonder how Icelanders live under such conditions.

Spent the evening, what there was of it when I got home, working on chapter 37. Had a bit of a block but still managed to write 1,300 words. The delay is annoying but not, if I am to be realistic, unexpected. I had put a ridiculous schedule together and have virtually met it. The only thing that is a positive about the delay is that I now have to make time to re-read my work before sending it on to Paul. I had made the mistake of sending unchecked, un-amended chapters to Paul. Now I must go back to the chapters from 18 to 40 to make sure that all is how I want it: tension, colour, pace etc.

I will have to forgoe publishing five books by the end of January as I don’t think it possible to achieve in the given time bearing in mind all the other tasks I have to complete to ensure the first four books are released. What I must do in light of this is to write book four ASAP so that too can be published followed shortly by five and six. Beyond that is anyone’s guess although I quite fancy revisiting and revising a compilation of the short erotic stories I wrote but to include them with some of the othe shorts I have written.

Time takes a cigarette …

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-27T22:45:00.000Z

Sunday should have been the calm start to another week, the day when one poodles about doing bits of this and that but in general relaxing in preparation for the working week ahead. I already had cross words with Jasmine last week over the garden and when what should be done and by whom. All very puerile. Today I had said I would cut back the Crimson King, the Birch and the Willow. I of course hadn’t counted on Ray not being next door. I always borrow Ray’s ladders in much the same way he borrows/borrowed our garden furniture. It’s what neighbours do. You would have thought I was making a fuss for the sake of it. I did manage to tidy up some of the twigs and branches cut down by Jasmine and Jamie but that was wrong as, apparently, a bonfire is what is required. I would have thought to have a bonfire you would need to cut the bits into convenient sizes to burn, but hey, what do I know?

I honestly try to show willing just as I did the day she wanted to cut the Silver Birch back but as with that my motives are somewhat more devious than I thought they were. Where has that girl I fell in love with gone? Following on from a morning spent tossing the angry word I retired to my room to write. Finding the flow of the story suddenly easy, the end was always there of course but my style of writing, even though the plot is there well in advance, is very ‘organic.’ Certain elements enter the narratives that then grow with the tale. Characters for example may have been plotted to react in a given way and yet when the occasion arises and because of the way they have interacted with other characters, the whole thing goes down another route. Quite odd the way that happens.

The evening arrived with Jasmine, half way through cooking the meal, announced whe didn’t feel like cooking. I had no concerns over that for even though the way she talks to me hurts her depression is genuine and anyway, who said she had to do all the cooking. I am far from a good cook but even I am able to prepare sausages, mash, carrots and peas and that is precisely what Squid and I had. Delicious it was too.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-26T23:20:00.000Z

As usual I was first awake on Saturday. Thumbscrew arrived home at about 8 looking slightly pissed, certainly tired. She went up to bed as I started to clean the house. Most of it had already been done by Jasmine earlier in the week. Cleaning the kitchen gave me the opportunity to play and listen to Kate Bush’s latest album “50 Words for Snow.” It is, much like all of Kate’s work, highly individual. There will be those that say it is too clever or claim it to be ‘prog rock’ and all I can say to that is to listen again for she is one of this country’s greatest talents. The whole concept of writing an album about snow or winter is thrilling. It could so easily be thought of as pretentious but it is anything but. There is even one song, the title track, which not only fills you with wonderment for her use of invented words but makes you laugh as you listen to Stephen Fry’s well-spoken voice pronounce them. A delightful album that I have played three times in as many days.

Squid and I went to Mum’s after lunch even though Thumbscrew had wanted me to do some banking for her she then said she would go into Southend on her own. I saw Jasmine getting ready so perhaps she was going as well. Be good if she did get out.

My Mum still seems determined not to come for Christmas which seems perverse of her. I know she hates being alone so she should have accepted the olive branch when it was offered. I strongly doubt Jasmine will offer it again. I also think Thumbscrew will side with her Mum as that is the way with her. I missed not seeing Tweezil but at least I got the chance to collect her from work at eight.

When I dropped her off I went straight back home to watch (gods help me) Strictly Come Dancing (which I enjoy) before being forced by Squid to watch The X Factor. Spot the talent show…YUK.

Then it was laptop out and down to writing. Chapter Thirty Seven completed – 2,168 words completed. This means I have another four or five chapters to go before the book is done. Tomorrow night I must try and match the output of the last two nights. I need at least another 2,000 words for each of the remaining chapters.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-25T12:18:00.000Z

Fought against the desire to watch TV and tapped away on my laptop. Wrote more than 2,000 words and feel quite chuffed with how EB is going. Jasmine still not right. Very sad to see her this way. Not just sad as the stereotypical depiction but angry, very, very angry.

I should have EB finished by the end of next week which is slightly beyond the schedule I had set. I can live with that. I will then set about writing book four: ‘The Politics of Turnips.’ Which would be good to have near ready by end of January 2012..

Work is just more toilet with some awful admin work mounting up like a sore on Troll’s back. Finding it hard to concentrate which may be the long hours I am doing on the books. Have to see if there is anything else out there. I have tried but finding work is pretty much a pointless exercise. Most jobs only pay in the mid-thirties which is fair enough I suppose but I am used to more and having to tack around the bloody M25 everyday costs me £100. That is nigh on £5,000 a year all going into petrol and that is without oil, tyres, screen wash etc.

More than half way through ‘The Light Fantastic’ and enjoying every minute of it. Pratchett is the man.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-24T23:58:00.000Z

Chris at work had said he was a fan of Kate Bush and yet had never heard “Ariel.” When I got home I went to the garage to dig out the CD for him. I hadn’t looked at my vinyl collection for some time, depleted ai it now is for some time. Once I and close to 2,000 fashioned albums all with the incredible artwork of their time and all with such a better sound than CD’s or worse PC downloads. I am far from being an expert on recorded sound but every biography by musicians that I have ever read complains about the lack of depth of sound that CD’s produce.

Once I had every Beatle album, along with The Who, The Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, The Velvets, Led Zep, Yes, King Crimson and Iggy - Tamla and Stax too, not to mention the saviours of the awful early seventies, Roxy Music and every album of Bowies BEFORE his Ziggy period and after. All I have left are my precious Zappa albums and one or two from the glorious ‘76 to ‘82 period. Gone are New Order, the Smiths (best band ever - perhaps?) Joy Division etc. Funny enough I have never counted how many CD’s I have, maybe 500, maybe more, not really interested nor am I that bothered by not having the vinyl anymore which feels strange. I should care, it should matter. Some Zen like phase seems to have entered my life, I am less enamoured by possessing things than I used to be even if I/we still have a great many of the comics I bought in the eighties and far too many books to count

I suppose it would have been nice to have kept all the albums as then I could have fondly pulled them out one at a time, Family, Spooky Tooth, Free, Van der Graaf Generator, Can, UB40, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Blondie, Love, Peter Gabriel (oh how I love that man’s music), Boomtown Rats, Sparks, Loudon Wainwright III and on and on an etc.

I still love music, still love to hear new sounds but increasingly I find that guitar based music less attractive than it was when I was twelve to fifty. So much is repetitive of what went before. My tastes run to virtually all sub genres but I have given up with how I used to sub divide stuff. The Byrds are under B next to Beefheart, Bowie, Beethoven, Bush and Basie and not as Country Rock or Americana. So called Classical music (Renaissance, Baroque, Romantic and Modern) sit next to Jazz, Rock (oh yeah right what the hell?), Reggae, Folk, Punk (oh yeah right what the hell?), R’n B and so on.

I find listening to music is like going into the ocean. As you walk in, around your feet and ankles are tiny fish that fly about, they are the equivalent of Bucks Fizz, Girls Aloud etc, then as you wade up to your waist there comes those larger fish: the Queens, Abba, Blondie that engage at another level then there come those fish that are able to excite you at all levels like the Beatles, Steely Dan, Blur and Bowie then, as you go deeper you discover Willard Grant Conspiracy, June Tabor, Lucinda Williams and Bob Dylan all diving deeper into the sea.
Then we get those leviathans that defy easy description: Robert Wyatt, Bjork, The Fall, Captain Beefheart, Miles Davis, Shostakovich, Frank Zappa and Philip Glass.

I struggled for so many years trying to place Zappa. Is he Rock? Yes and no. Is he Jazz? Yes and No. Is he blues? Yes and no? Is he Classic? Yes, Yes and no. He is I fact all of them and all at the same time and with vast amounts of humour mixed with odd noises thrown in. The man himself, where he still alive, would laught at my attempts to bag him and so I used to, for convenience sake, place him under Rock.
How would you classify Beefheart. The blues? Inspired by but only a quarter of what his music is. The man is universally accepted as being one of the few musicians from the pop world to have created a work of art in “Trout Mask Replica.” His and the Magic Bands sound was a fractured, disjointed sort of blues with jazz time signatures. He is part blues, part freeform jazz, part surrealism with some of the weirdest lyrics you have ever heard. He is one man where the word genius applies.

I give up and let the alphabet do its work for me.

I put the CD into my bag and will lend it to Chris tomorrow.

Jasmine seems no better. Still keeps to her room like Harry potter in a cupboard. I worked until nearly midnight again on EB. I am now finding it hard as there are TV programmes and films I would like to watch but feel that until I have achieved my aims that I cannot take time off. The book WILL be finished by end of November.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-23T23:20:00.000Z

Jasmine was tucked away in Grace’s room when arrived home. The drugs she is taking to do not properly kick in for six weeks. I am not meant to know so therefore must keep quiet. It would be nice if I could find another pharmacist she could work out of but one that will allow her to practise the qualifications she has. I listened as I typed tonight to Kate Bush’s latest album. “50 words for snow.”

Kate epitomises the word talent. She simply oozes with it. The album is beautiful and filled with a depth of emotion few male artists as they age are able to match. Fortunately Kate is not male and made of a far tougher, less fragile ego than her male counterparts. Of course that is a generalisation as there are plenty of guys who produce equally good music but too often we get that aging swagger that looks more like a drunken geriatric or the weeping willy. Gods bless Kate for having such a wilful creativity that doesn’t just sit outside the box but occupies another universe entirely.

EB now has 34 chapter’s which leaves approx. 10 to go. I now have to complete the book in six days time then send chapters 18 t0 44 to Paul for editing. Then I have to reformat all the text so it is presentable to Kindle ensuring that all images are jpeged and that all text is compatible for the Amazon book thingy. Dave is, I believe, cracking on with the illustrations. I then have to crack on myself with ‘The Politics of Turnips.’ This book will need to be totally ready (written, formatted and illustrated) by the end of Jan. Not sure I am capable of achieving that.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-22T10:10:00.000Z

Jasmine much the same. Her bosses are being callous and cruel. Parish said he had heard it all before and was bored. If he had heard it before then he heard it from someone other than my wife. Jasmine never complains. She made hardly any noise during labour, has twice had pneumonia and when she did didn’t summon the doctor when she should but hung on taking painkillers. Parish’s estranged wife, the bitch on wheels, even suggested that to be depressed you have to have a reason, like bereavement. This is not the case with clinical depression. You only have to ask a doctor and Christ knows I work with dozens of them, pharmacists too. Jasmine’s bosses are unpleasant and unkind and I may just pay them a visit with some ‘friends’ from the East End.

I have not done enough writing this week. I have only once been near the PC/laptop BUT I have hand written most of chapter 32. Trouble is, as much as I deny it, I still get concerned over her.

Work has been busy but manageable. Poor old Brian messed up recently to the tune of £4,000. OUCH! Before I start thinking that I haven’t had such a large error occur on my watch I best remember that we all, especially me, make mistakes. He is genuinely gutted though, poor sod.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-21T22:35:00.000Z

Depression is no fun. That may sound a stupid statement but too often a serious illness is dismissed with a ‘pull yourself together’ remark. I know Thumbscrew is worried and increasingly so am I. She hasn’t been to work in a week having been given a note from her doctor. Her workplace is being uncaring responding to her apologetic texts with curt responses. She is, and always has been, a hard, conscientious worker. I have no right but I feel as though I should go and speak with her boss and give her a piece of my mind. She lays in bed weeping. Her future appears bleak and pointless. She has again suggested that living as no meaning. Whatever the situation between us I would hate to see harm befall her. She is the mother of my children. She was once the only friend I needed. I hear her as she weeps, I see her as she stumbles around the house drugged to the eyeballs. Again I am guilty of cowardice as perhaps I should say something but my fears to one side I think my suddenly showing any form of concern will only make matters worse.

I remember suffering in some small way with depression. It passed but it was horrible whilst it lasted. I think part of the problem for her is where she works. The female boss is spiteful with a cruel tongue that she lashes her subordinates with. Pharmacists would appear to be all calm resolve but this woman, who has a loveless marriage (join the club baby) is anything but. Jasmine is gifted with all things medical and has excelled with becoming a dispenser and not just a shop keeper.

He whole life, apart from her childhood, has been riddled with stress with much of it my fault. She rose to being a Bank Inspector at a young age then we had the children. Wapping caused a huge rift between us that we managed to mend. Seeing her like this makes me feel all the more useless.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-20T23:25:00.000Z

I find myself getting increasingly worried by Jasmine's mental state. Thumbscrew too is concerned. I have seen her this way before. The first time was when she was fourteen just after her father had died. She was understandably upset and had to have tablets to calm her nerves. The second glimpse of her neurosis was demonstrated when Uncle Harry died. Then again during the Wapping dispute. And of course those two other, more recent, events that haunt me and Thumbscrew. I don’t want to spend another night preying she will wake.

We are no longer in love but I still worry about her. If only I had been a little more settled as a man with a career that had remained steady then I think things may have been different. She needs someone who will sail away from those choppy waters and not, like me, wilfully cruise into them.

Christmas is becoming, as I suspected it might, an issue. Jasmine should not have phoned my Mum when she was angry but by the same token Mum should do the decent thing when Jasmine phoned to ask her to come from Christmas and have accepted. Sometimes sorry isn’t spelt with an S nor does it have to be. I think it might have been better if ‘we’ had invited Mum over to our house on Squid’s birthday as I think this would have acted as a balm to calm the situation.

I did no gardening today but spent the time writing. I managed to complete chapter Thirty committing some 2,00 plus words to paper. I then started chapter thirty one using material from an older story which I cut and pasted. I then set about altering and amending the words as they were far to rich in their eroticism for Fekenham tastes.

Things are looking good on the EB front although I think I may not have enough words by the end of the project. 80,000 is my usual output but thus far it looks like being 20,000 short of that. Some serious consideration needs to be applied.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-19T23:10:00.000Z

Up early today determined to get to the banks, have a look at what they have to offer then get ready to go over to Mum;s. Both Barclays and NatWest were shut in Rochford. I then drove to Hockley where the single Barclays was also shut. Annoying but not a major concern. I will have to see if I can find somewhere local to where i work.
Jasmine had said that the hairdresser was calling in this afternoon so I made a swift change of plans phoning first my Mum and the Tweezil. The idea was to leave for Mum's a bit earlier than usual so we could all get to Bluewater in time to have a slow wander around and not feel rushed. As it happens Jasmine said not to worry as Squid's hair could wait and Tweezil was happy not to have her hair cut.
Me and Squid still left half anf hour earlier and I asked Squid to take the milk bottles so we could return them clean to Mum. Squid, in a moment of datness, thought it would be fun to leave the bottles on the roof of the car. i unaware of what she had done got into the car and drove off. A sudden thump, thump, thump followed by an almighty crash alerted me to a problem. I thought someone had thrown something at the car which is bloody silly as no one where i live would do such a thing. I stopped the car and saw the shattered glass glittering on the pavement. Trying hard not to get cross i dashed back home where I picked up a dust pan and brush so as to clean the broken glass away.
Squid has this habit of laughing at the oddest of things but I think she saw the look on my face and kept quiet. As it was an accident I really didn't mind too much.
Bluewater was a challenge. Mum crept around it like an injured snail. We stopped twice for tea and cakes as much for her to catch her breath as for us to eat.
She saw a couple of bits she liked which she then bought. I dread Christmas this year as I know Mum won't be there and Jasmine will be furious.
i did a bit of writing late in the evening but nothing of any note. I did manage to finalise the plot though which enables me to see how the various tensions and 'colours' will affect the story. Tomorrow I will spend the day writint as next week I have loads of gardening to do..
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-18T05:00:00.000Z

The world’s first democracy, Greece, has had to accept ‘technocrats’ acting as its political leaders after their financial collapse. Soon after this Italy followed suit. I understand the need to resolve the debt both nations face but wonder to the validity of having unelected administrators brought in to solve the problem. Is this in itself not a defeat for Europe? Facing the possible implosion of the burgeoning fiscal state is perhaps unpalatable to Germany, France and the other member nations but surely by having faceless individuals placed into positions of power with the public not having voted for them is equally as bad if not worse? From a personal point of view I think Germany, if they are genuine about their dreams of a united Europe, will have to accept that, just as in the United States of America, one wealthy state supports the less well off. Germany’s fear of uncontrollable inflation is to be admired as is the way they have grown the wealth of their homeland but to desire something in principle while not supporting it in reality surely is hypocrisy? Perhaps I am guilty of being self-serving as I am worried about the ‘ripples in the pond’ effect that is beginning to impact on Britain but I truly feel that if you want something badly enough you will support it even if the times are bad.

Cold again this morning but not as bad as yesterday. Stupidly left my memory sticks in doors so was unable to do any work on the books at work.

Feeling very ‘up’ at the moment. Tomorrow I intend go to the local bank and open and account. I might need it to be a business account so will have to discuss with whomever. Not sure if I need a business account yet though as I haven’t had any money come in. Apparently, (according to Thumbscrew) I should open my business as a limited company and not sole trader (soul trader for sure!) as there could be tax implications. I think at this stage I needn’t concern myself over such detail but wait until money starts to arrive. If I do start making serious amounts of money then all I need do is leave it there so the bloody taxman can be paid and then open a limited company. According to friends you can buy an old business name for £10. Not sure I would want to buy some old business but will have to look into it.

After the bank I shall take Grace, Brett and Squid to Mum’s. then we shall go Christmas shopping in Bluewater. Really looking forward to it

Had a text from Thumbscrew asking if Big Grammy would lend her £400. The answer is almost certainly yes but I don’t think my family realise that Mum has spent more than enough on us in recent years. She also doesn’t have the wealth she did and people forget that. They still see her as being the family ‘bank.’

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

2011-11-17T23:57:00.000Z

Another cold start to the day with frost and fog. I like mornings like these. I like the way the fog rises over the fields mantle grey. I like the way the rabbits sit with ears alert as the crows caw corvine sermons. Everything seems to be slowing down. Life, real life and not the sham all that flock to the office each day lead, is preparing to rest for the duration of winter. If mankind has lost its way then nature hasn’t. Even if the world is warming that is just another part of the cycle, more of the wheel turning. The only part we humans play on that wheel is as we run rodent round spinning on and on and on. Personally, I would like nothing more than to get off and watch. Not so as I could laugh at others in some bogus superior way but just because I have had enough. I feel as though my idendity has been consumed by a monster. I feel as if I am nothing more than another flesh cog in the great machine. All very clichéd I know but nonetheless how I feel.

When I got home a frost of another kind greeted me. I think I am over that now, over her. I just need to focus on what I need doing and not the pointless rows we could so easily have.

I wrote and finished chapter 30 tonight of the EB. I took a lot of the text I needed for this chapter from another story I had started as it fitted in well, after some minor changes, to the narrative. I also wrote the first 300 words or so of the preceding chapter, chapter 29. As the book progresses so my confidence in it grows. It will sit nicely as a one off in the Fekenham series whilst keeping faith with the rest of the continuity. As it is now November the 17th I have only a fortnight, less in fact, to complete the book. I think I can do it but I must not sacrifice quality just to achieve my schedule. I fully intend to hit the end of January deadline for having five books published on Kindle but will either delay that deadline or even drop the five to four if I have to. It is so important to maintain, however cheap my books may be in literary terms, the standard set by previous books.

I do find it all quite tiring. The late nights and early starts are beginning to tell on me. This morning I wanted nothing more than to roll over for another five minutes sleep. I didn’t though and got out of bed and did sixty press-ups. My ‘breasts’ would make Dawn French sick with envy!

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?