#manwithoutaplan

“So for the first time since the age of five I am not in full time education or employment. As of one second past midnight my contract has expired.

I've been uneasy about the direction education has been taking for several years. Last February I found myself in a position where I could take the chance on leaving without too much immediate financial jeopardy. I am NOT retired... I am in the jobs market and after a well-earned short break I hope to be gainfully employed.

As what?

Who knows?

A wordsmith. DJ. Guru. Gigolo... all 18+ ages considered…females only (sorry guys! ) Band road-crew for my son’s band? Trolley Collector at Asda?

Who knows?

Teachers are multi skilled. There's a pathetic saying that those who can do and those who can't Teach - (funny that never gets said about great sports coaches!)

The fact is that teachers teach because they CHOOSE to use their knowledge, skills and talents to help young people.

I have CHOSEN to do that for most of my life. Now, with the support of my amazing family, I am CHOOSING not to.

Teaching is virtually an undoable job these days. Value your child's teachers. They are not perfect. But they work hard. Often they are expected to do things above and beyond the call of duty. They are not perfect. Because they are people. Mostly GOOD people. Continue to undervalue them and they will continue to disappear.

I'm a bit sad. It's a bit scary. But the time has come.

I can finally stop getting wound up because somebody's got their tie on upside down!

Hurrah!

Ps.... if you see me outside Tesco at Liverpool 1 in a cardboard box this time next year please drop a pound coin into the tin...”

I posted the above on Facebook just after 12.01 am on 1st September, 2016.

 My contract had expired at midnight on August 31st.

For the first time in my life I was unemployed.Or Self-Unemployed as I liked to call it.

It was the start of a journey.

And perhaps the end of a voyage...of discovery.?

Or maybe just the end of a lie.

 I still don’t yet know which.

I decided to write a book about my new life. I’m 40,000 words into that book, but I don’t know whether it will ever see the light of day.

This week I discovered blogging, so I am dipping my toes in the water.

 Of two pools at the same time really. Is anybody remotely interested in what happens to a man who leaves his career without a plan of what to do next?

Do I have any idea of how to blog?

As I said, dipping my toes in the water of two separate pools. 

Luckily, they appear to be right next to each other, otherwise I could end up legs spread wide with wet toes and a painful grimace. 

So there it is. My first ever blog.

I imagine I will share some segments of the book on here. It’s called “The Man Without A Plan”, by the way.

But I will also add other pages. I’m interested in Sport, Current Affairs, Fiction, Poetry and Music.

I hope you enjoyed this blog. It’s hard to judge your own work when you first begin (maybe it is always hard) but I’m trying to just write as I would tell it face to face.

 I hope I succeed.

Over the past eleven months the rhythm of my life has changed and my perception of myself has changed. Like many things, leaving my job has had unexpected consequences. Some good. Some bad.

I will share them with you.But perhaps not all of them - there has to be something for people to discover when they read the book.

What I share will be mostly ‘warts and all’, as Oliver Cromwell would say (if he hadn’t died over four centuries ago!) But I won’t be telling all.

There’s no sex (at least in the 40,000 words written so far), though there are some drugs (in the form of alcohol) and a lot of rock ;n; roll. 

There is. I hope, a lot of love and a touch of humour. As well, I ‘m sure, as a little bit of moaning and groaning.

Thanks for reading my first ever blog.

Come back soon for the next one..

(This is an old one from January, I think - Daniel)

I hope she has the biggest eyes. And I guarantee you she’ll have the greatest smile. I mean, how couldn’t she? I bet you anything dimples will start to make sense…

How could something so…pure…innocent and beautiful share a name with me?

I close my eyes and she’s there, playing with my glasses and giggling with each new discovery, rejoicing with each achievement, no matter how trivial. Tasting a sock? Check. Make a mess of breakfast? Mmhmm. Get up and waddle around? Tricky, but there was never a doubt.

And the details are fuzzy, of course. Whose face fits under that mop of brown, black, yellow, red hair? I don’t really care. I’ll be the guy right out of an indie script if you need me to. Just to hear joy echo through the halls, warm and bundled in my lap as the past and future soundtracks collide; it’s in-…unbeli-.

I can’t see bourgeoisie, but the magic radiates; it’s her. Not part, not a side of. Her. Days and months and years pass in a sweep of a harp and a 50’s choir, and it never. ever. changes. She’s a master of disguise, you’re really talented, sweetie.

I hope I never have to google which detergent is best for a tear-soaked pillowcase.

See, I have a beach in my mind’s cloud. And she’s in it. She’s beautiful. Of course, everyone is supposed to be, but I can’t get that out any better. She looks like life’s potential. She brings me to skateboards and ice cream and the struggle to not use my adult vernacular at the inevitable car crash between soft foot and hard Lego.

I can only hope for half of what I dream, she’s my salvation. And I’m her guide through the world. No matter how much pain and heartache comes around. I do this because I love her, before I even see her.

She’s heaven in blue jeans and a store-bought shirt. She’s perfect. She’s my love.