The Hay Bale Incident…

I’m not sure if everyone was prone to accidents when they were a child, I was sort of a tomboy and liked getting into it and giving it a go, which given my lack of awareness and balance, often led to some comedic accidents.

One of which I will share as it still amuses me very much to this day. As the title suggests, it does indeed involve a hay bale. So, I am 12 at the time, I lived in Hampshire as part of an army camp but not a restricted one. Squaddie brat was the term for us kids of the military folk and I think I lived up to the name quite well. We used to have to find things to occupy ourselves outside of school as all children do.  During the school holidays the army were very good at providing activities and schemes for us while parents still had to work. These would include shooting, swimming, PT and other things. But the rest of the time, we were mostly out and about and sometimes up to no good.

We were lucky enough to be surrounded by lots of countryside, fields and woods and as much adventuring as we could fit it. But come the late summer we had lots of large round hay bales begin to appear in the field out the back of our estate. A game was devised, or trick if you will. Here it was, push the one ton hay bale down the slight hill, once it picked up a bit of momemtum, grab onto the netting covering said hay bale, hook your fingers into it and get pulled over with the now moving bale. The trick being a crafty leg swing as you are pulled over the top, and releasing your fingers at the same time. Which all going well, puts you in front of the hay bale, on your feet while it now picks up speed down to the bottom of the field.

The principle was simple, and I see two of my friends complete this seemingly new manoeuvre without any issue or hesitation. I know what must be done and take my turn. But what I didn’t factor into this, was my lack of skill and co-ordination. I did not lack bravery or willing when I was younger, but as I got older the evidence became clear that I lacked skill, and this is what kept leading me into injury.

So, I stepped up to my hay bale and gave it a push, both hands in front of me starting the motion, I chose my moment to grip onto the plastic netting and was instantly pulled upwards towards the top. I swung my legs round as best I could planning the same smooth stunt I had witnessed, but something went wrong. My fingers didn’t unwrap from the netting, my legs didn’t quite go all the way round, and instead of jumping in front of it, I went with it. Imagine a steam roller made of hay with a person on it. That’s what happened. I went straight over the front of it and then proceeded to be crushed by it. Luckily only having some bruises and cuts on my face and a sore rib cage. I had to go home to my mother and explain why I had odd scratches and bruises down one side of my face. She laughed, a lot, so did the rest of the family.

I would like to say that was a one off, an isolated incident, but I would be lying. My younger years really were filled with a number of mishaps…

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(c) K Wicks

When darkness follows you…

Its difficult to define what it is when someone may ask or say to you –

“Why do you look so sad” or “You have sad eyes”.

You can only use the answer, but that’s just my face for so long before you really start to wonder what everyone else sees. I do not try to hide my melancholy most of the time, I am both happy and sad so can be smiling and enjoying what I am saying, doing, or seeing. And then can remember everything else. My face is a mere snapshot of what is going on in mind.

As I get older though I begin to understand. What came before can follow you and make you feel as though the weight of the world has become too heavy a burden. And it can show. I had this feeling as a teenager and it has followed me all the way through. Maybe there are many of us burdened by life and ourselves but making the best of it, just muddling through and trying to find a bit of calm in all the madness…

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(c) K Wicks

 

 

 

 

 

Just why is it… (poetry)

Just why is it

Quite is so hard

To keep your head

Don’t drop your guard

The living dead

Surround my soul

I need to remember

Life takes its toll

I will be fine

Just need to vent

About my rage

Of years I’ve spent

Of my mistakes

I never meant

To understand

My mind is bent

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(c) K Wicks

Rhyme and Reason

The Blues Effect…

Around a decade ago, I found my way to setting up and running a local blues record label. I did this as a hobby business after I had set up my accounts company, I had spent the time needed to make it successful and employ a number of people so I could do other things. These other things turned out to be wasting my time on other people. I was surrounded by musicians and thought maybe if someone could pull together the admin side and help guide their creativity, it might just work.

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I laugh now at my misplaced optimism. Organising people and their dreams isn’t the easiest thing to do, and given the choice knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t do it differently. I wouldn’t do it at all. It was many (way too many) hours of my own time for which I have nothing to show apart from this one CD left from the label launch. The lesson for me being, not all creative people actually want to do anything with their talent, if they have any. My motivation was better used for myself and my own dreams. Maybe I was just to afraid to push myself and it was easier to try and push others? There were moments where it was fun, but mostly just a lot of hassle.

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Although after I stopped helping other people, I wrote a few blues songs myself and recorded one of them A Capella (by this time I had had enough of musicians). I love music and what can be done but it isn’t my dream. One of my favourite films is still The Blues Brothers and it’s probably my favourite genre. I concentrate on my writing and publishing now and running my bookkeeping business.

So far I have published two books of poetry, three novels, a book of short stories, two colouring books and just recently my first non fiction book. Writing and publishing my own books has been my dream since I was 6, so now I am finally doing it, I think I will just keep going. There is so much more to be written.

 

Rainy Days…

We have a lot of rainy days in England. Sometimes it makes me look out of the window and remember being stuck inside during holidays or weekends. But not in a bad way, most people moan about the weather for that, but for me it gave me a chance to do indoor things. For tv and movies, baking, embroidery, drawing, reading and all the other things I found to do. So rainy days for me usually mean getting stuff done.

(c) K Wicks photographer

Work and career…

I had been panicking about my career from a very young age. I had a list of jobs I wanted by the age of ten, most of them unattainable, but it didn’t stop me dreaming of working – not sure if other children do such a thing. I do think this was partly influenced by family, my mother didn’t have a very good job although worked a lot and my real father was a drop out, so my grandparents really drummed it into me about succeeding. It was all about prospects, what you bring to the table, what you can offer and what you can achieve. I do sometimes have a rather antiquated attitude and understanding for someone my age, but I took it all in. Everything they taught me from a bygone age and attitude. I’m grateful for it though as it has given me a unique perspective on things.

In all my planning of my future of being a grown up, I had conveniently overlooked one thing, becoming a grown up. It was tough and after a series of upheavals and difficulties, my plan was derailed. I had to drop out of school, I was struggling massively to re-adjust to yet another school and couldn’t find myself. I was given a state appointed tutor for my compulsory education for three hours a week at home, which I must say, was minimal. I already knew what I needed to though, so it was adequate for it’s purpose. I was one of many, I didn’t expect the education board to notice me or care, why should they? I ended my education with nothing to show for it, and the psychological repercussions of that is what initially destroyed me, then probably what drove me on. I had already failed, so what could be worse?

What followed was nearly a decade of trying to make up for it, while also still trying to navigate life which often got in the way. I had focus and a belief in myself though that didn’t require anyone else’s input. I stopped getting praise in my adult life, I had no parents after eighteen and went off the rails in the view of my grandparents, so was left to my own devices for a couple of years and had to be able to be proud of myself. I wasn’t quite measuring up to the family standard, which had already slipped one generation before me. I had the gift of the gab back then though and worked round my lack of formal education, often doing jobs better than people with qualifications. I realised then that the system was a bit of a con, that I hadn’t needed to go to college and university to do well at all. As I got older I knew plenty of people who went, and had nothing to show for it apart from a large debt and an inflated sense of employability. Something I only learnt from experience, how could I have known that then.

One of my jobs that I think taught me the most, was working in a recruitment agency. I had worked for them before as a temp, doing cleaning work, catering assistant and factory work, but this time I was behind the counter. I liked that job very much, but not because of what it was or who it was for. What I started to see were people, with very different situations in need of work, although not all of them were willing to. I happened to be there at a time when the EU opened it’s doors to more countries and we had an influx of foreign workers, mostly Polish who came to our town. Years later I have heard people moan about how they ‘came and stole our jobs’ but the reality was different from where I sat. They took the jobs no-one else wanted to do.

Most of these Polish had very limited English skills but a work ethic that outshone the locals when it came to manual work and labour. We struggled to fill the jobs for bin men and cleaners, for factory workers and fruit pickers. Our college leavers and graduates felt that work was beneath them, and they weren’t afraid to say it.

“I’ve got a degree! I won’t work for £8.00ph!”

I nearly laughed my head off when someone said that to me. Maybe because I was working my way up or maybe because I understood about hard times and appreciating opportunities. Either way, that attitude was not unique, and not restricted to graduates. I always thought a job was a job and if you need to pay the bills, I was proud to be able to pay my way. Have standards by all means, just make them realistic. Soon though those Polish workers became locals themselves and I moved on. I didn’t want my career to be based on people being reliable (because they aren’t), recruitment was not for me. It did however, show me how much people were willing to pay for finance work and I started to realise that is what all businesses have in common, so used my initiative. I booked myself on an evening course at the local college for computerized accounting and made myself look better on paper. It’s all very well being good at talking, but you must be able to get to the talky bit.

It was also just good timing that I handed in my notice with no job to go to, with just a good feeling to go on. Finding a new position as an accounts manager within a couple of weeks and getting on the finance ladder. Very soon though it became clear to me that my standards exceeded those of who I worked for, so self-employment seemed the only route. I was driven, obsessive, love paperwork, am meticulous and can work to my own deadlines – it really was a no brainer. I kept studying for the first five years, doing home learning and exams while growing the business and keeping house.

Working for me is important, it keeps my brain active and focused. Knowing you are part of the bigger picture and participating, paying your way and getting by. But that’s what we are taught to believe isn’t it? That we should be finding our place in society and fitting in. Work, work, work till you are almost dead, then have time off. I really have taken that to heart unfortunately and in the last few years have had to find a bit of balance. With a bit of time and perspective you can often think differently. I understand they need us to work, if we don’t they can’t take your tax, apparently nothing will get done and we will all lose our minds to boredom. The system is not broken, it is how it is meant to be. Capitalism at its finest…

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(c) K Wicks Photographer

Anxiety (WIP)…

Another excerpt from my upcoming WIP.

Society alone can give you anxiety, a stressful home life or working environment can trigger these emotions and feelings too. If on the way through your life though, what if you didn’t get the necessary experience to understand how to cope or know what was going on.

What if you didn’t ever develop coping mechanisms or recognise what might be a weakness in yourself or potential strength? Then how can you hope to make it easier for yourself and work through it? This is the type of question I ask myself, then go to work trying to unravel what it really means. I also know you don’t have to have had a dysfunctional life to feel anxiety, it can happen to anyone, but it definitely makes the path a bit harder…

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(c) K Wicks photographer

I needed to know…

These are two cases of self inflicted injuries in my childhood, quite unnecessary really, both of them. Some lessons are painful, and these are two of those. Sometimes I just had to prove something to myself, even if it was just what other people had told me.

I think I was about 7 and I had a bike. I loved it and would blat to the shops or down to my friends house, no problems. This one day, while biking to what we called ‘the 10 0’clock shop’ – probably no mystery as to why. Running parallel the very straight road, was another road with a row of houses, but was steeply dipped, coming up at the shop. So I decided to take the dipped road, with the intention of peddling as fast as I could down, so that it was a hard slog up, but you got some momentum behind you. Sounded like a solid plan, and it was.

Until for what would appear to be no reason at all, I started to wonder if what I had been told was true. Does your front wheel buckle if you let go while going fast? Now, you may think this thought might have just been dismissed and I continued on my speedy way. No. I wanted to know. Had to know. So, I did let go. And true to the information I had been given, my front wheel did buckle. I had not given thought to what really would happen next. What did happen next was a lot of pain, a fair amount of blood, some smashed in front teeth with one now missing, and a random lady coming out of one of the houses to help patch me up. I felt stupid, I’m not going to lie. And wasn’t really sure what it was that had made me do it, I had put logic to one side and just went for it. It scared me a bit, when I started to understand what I was capable to doing to myself. We are very breakable, and I guess as children it can be a hard time learning that.

Around the same time in my life, we had dogs, three of them. One of them in particular had an issue with things coming through the letterbox. Anything that came through was, for want of a better word, savaged. So, again, in my ridiculous childhood thought process, wondered. Could it be possible, that if I put my hand through the letterbox, will it get treated with the same contempt. You guessed it, i had to know. And the answer is yes, but only temporarily. In the dogs defense, as soon as he realised it was my hand, he let go, unfortunately his tooth had punctured one of my fingers, there was screaming, and lots of blood. A few stitches in my index finger and I was fine, but started to see a pattern forming. I didn’t trust what I was told and felt the need to prove these things, even at great cost to myself. It was here I think I first started to understand about instinct and how you are just going to have work out some things for yourself. Where others may be giving you really sound advice, take heed. That does not mean take the advice, but keep it in mind.

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(c) K Wicks

Death of the High Street…

This has been a familiar term to me for years. Not too long ago we saw the shift from going to the high street to do your shopping, to driving out to industrial estates with huge Supermarkets selling everything under one roof. The convenience can’t be denied.

But I am one for saving what should be saved, so I have been looking at what it is that I no longer enjoy about the high street. Previously I used to enjoy being able to walk to town, go to the post office, maybe a charity shop or two, pick up some stationary and maybe pay in a cheque. Just a small list of jobs could involve a minimum of four premises, with a possible stop in a book shop or other clothing shop. But as times have changed this is no longer an option.

Most post office have now closed in smaller villages and in towns have been assimilated into convenience stores, often the staff looking confused at the most simple request. Most clients now pay online, so the need to ‘pop’ to the bank just isn’t there. And none of us could have escaped Amazon, anything you can want, within a day. Saving you travel time, parking fees and shopping time. That’s got to be a win. In comparison, the delivery fees are cheaper than your time. This is a slightly separate but related issue – the infrastructure of this country. It takes an awfully long time to get anywhere by way of a motor vehicle. Not just due to congestion and idiotic road works (where you have a massive piece of road sectioned off for a tiny piece on the pavement, and no one working on it!), but we don’t seem to have a logical system of traffic lights either. No-one looks at the overall flow of traffic, because surely if people can get where they are going, we can all get on and either spend money or make money. After all, that’s what it’s all about apparently. If people can get to work, the economy grows, this is why I am starting to think its meant to be this way, because some things are so easy to improve.

So it takes an age to drive to your high street if you can’t walk, and you will have to pay for parking if you can find any. We very rarely encounter a free car park here (that’s also where the large shopping estates won, they had free massive car parks). Lots of shopping centers within towns have many empty shops and what you do have doesn’t seem to be anything people want.

But, aside from the problems of cost, need and availability for shops there is another issue. We come to quality and customer service. Both of which I now think are long gone. I have worked in retail, as well as hospitality and commercial offices before going into finance, so I do understand what it takes to do these jobs. Most of my recent disappointing experiences in establishments have been down to the people or the product they are selling. It could well be that I have indeed managed to move somewhere that is feeling more and more like a cross between Hot Fuzz and The League of Gentlemen. I do not expect to be looked up and down when booking an appointment, I do not expect to be told ‘no we don’t sell hydrangeas’ when they are literally right behind me it turns out. And I don’t expect to wait for over five minutes before no-one appears, or served moldy food in the shop down the way. This is only within a few months, but it gives me an idea of what is going wrong. I can now say I won’t be putting my money into my local shops and I would say this is the suicide of the high street, not just the death of. I guess the old saying springs to the mind in these instances “If your face doesn’t fit…” But money is money in my book, and manners and etiquette come for free, so no excuse. There are so many things bothering me about this country at the moment, I feel this may not be the last rant!

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(c) K Wicks