Life Is Better With Friends

Today's little snippet of my glorious life is more of a reflection on the last few weeks. Its highs and lows, so to speak. But do read on, it's sure to humble you and brighten your day!

When this often disastrous journey started, I was somewhat in a rush. I'd hot footed it 250 miles away to buy a van I'd only seen a couple of photos of. It had big crazy wheels and arches and a funky sun shade thing across the top of the window. Loads of tinted windows down the side of the van caught my attention too. I was in love. This was gonna be my new home!


Many reddies were handed over, most definitely many more than should've been. I left my little Berlingo van on the side of the road ready for a phone call in the morning to that famous car scrapping service "yes mate it's in Newcastle. Keys are in the glove box. Doors unlocked. No mate, no ones going to nick it. No, not even in Newcastle. You'll see why when you get there"
True enough, no one had nicked it. I fact, people had actually filled it with scrap!
The journey home begins with some serious wobbling over 45mph. The doubts flooding my mind, tormenting me like watching an episode of Bay Watch as a 13 year old lad with your mum and dad in the room: you can't stop smiling but it's wrong. Somethings wrong. Can't quite put your finger on it but this is going to get you into trouble...
Anyway, most of you reading this have probably been following and know the plight of Garry (I know, I know, but we will let our kids name things...) so I won't divulge any further.
The getting stuck in my exes front garden (the actual grassy one you filthy people) the saga with the wrong wheels etc happens.
But here I am, on this very forum being urged to continue my journey. "it'll be ok" you holla. "crack on son" you message to me.
I'm in awe of this wonderful new world I have unexpectedly found myself in. My life was in tatters. In my head this was my last calling. Driving myself to my very own funeral per se.
Nights were lonely and cold, zombies kept trying to get in for a warming cuddle and many tears were shed.
I took to this forum after stretching my fingers (and almost breaking them on the ceiling) and used my fingers as my voice. A feeble weak call for help. I'm dying here, all alone. I think the world hates me. I've nothing but this van and the 80 holes the wheel arches left behind.
Several of you came to my rescue with phone calls and messages of support! I was shocked! Speechless! These people don't know me yet here they are talking to me like I'm their best friend! I could feel a little glimmer hope building up like the the first peeks of sunshine poking it's warming little nose over the horizon. I felt so good!
I wrote about that days calamities and I loved it! The response was amazing! I felt alive! ALIVE I TELL YA ALIVE! I felt absolutely awesome! Better than that time I coped off with that brunette on the way home from school. Even though she did for a bet with her mate I still got a snog, my first snog and it was freaking awesome! About time as well. I was 15 and all my mates had their own families by then!
I want you all to know, that no matter how low you are, how much you hate yourself, or whatever this often disdain life throws at you, people are there for you. If you ask, they will come. So if like me you find yourself having a tough time, haven't spoken to anyone for days tell us. It's tough for us that live in vans at the minute. Really tough. If you see someone who is obviously struggling, just pop them a message over. No need to say owt out loud. If you're the one struggling, check your requests. You may find a surprise waiting in there for you
I have met some incredible people over the last few days through messenger. People I will never forget! You are awesome! I just wanted to say thank you you know who you are.
So I'm going to sign off from today's post now as I don't want to bore you all, and I'm sitting on the bog and I can't feel my legs.
Shit. How did the loo roll get all the way under there...
Knew I should've pulled the curtains...

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