The Kids Aren't Alright

So, I had a few ideas for what my next post would be about; ‘Modern Schooling’, Relationships’ and ‘The World’s Obsession with Killing’ were some of the big swingers. I also looked at more light-hearted candidates, such as my on-going struggles with domestic leakages (not a euphonism) but then a return to the not so distance past occurred. You may recall a post I put out back in the Summer of 2022 ‘Shelter in Place’, whereby in short, some f****r across the street from me got arrested for amateur illegal arms dealing. It wasn’t exports to parts of Eastern Europe or the Middle East but attempts to purchase arms online with stolen ID were made for subsequent resale. Anyways, ‘Shelter in Place’ orders were imposed, Police Tactical Teams arrived, and the Offender was carted away without event. Some 20-months have passed, and the law obviously feels sufficient time has been served (good behaviour likely) with details of the release being pursued (by me). 

During my initial week of blind twitching (which occurs everytime there’s movement across the street), there is little activity to report; Just the way I like it. During the incarceration period the house (his Parents) has had very little activity, which I think is due to his Parents trying to keep a low profile given the entire ordeal. The most we’ve observed is the weekly takeaway delivery, typically on a Friday. This delivery is then followed by an extensive 10-minute ‘wait period’, after which point a hand appears around the fly screen to collect; if you blink, you’ll miss it. The house often appears derelict almost, as you never see any lights on or sign of life. There’s the occasional Amazon delivery and there were Christmas lights put up on the Porch but beyond this its like the Mary Celeste over there. The irony is I think the Parents are now the ones sheltering in place.

In the days following the initial arrest, there was some fly posting conducted about this family and the fact they’re ‘living on your street’, which for the record, weren’t posted by me. I did, however, appreciate I wasn’t the only one being actively concerned though. I’m often classified, as an ‘over-reactor’ (by my own family), which I can be, but nosey neighbour jokes aside, illegal guns were being assembled and dealt from a house I can literally p*** too from my doorstep. I’m aware there are many more people in the City, Country and World over experiencing far worse, but weapons are weapons and whether they are used in conflicts of War or on a domestic level, they still have with the same outcome: Murder. I’ve said this before, but guns have a single function, which is to kill a living being. Yes of course, you can fabricate a weapon out of almost anything, but a gun isn’t something you would also use to chop your cucumber or your firewood. Guns project bullets at high speed into a human or animal to disarm or kill them. There’s no coming back from that, no matter how you square it.

As week #1 of (we’ll call him) Mr F**k’ release passed, I looked for little details, which may suggest a reformed man was amongst us. I appreciate finding a job might initially be a challenge but perhaps some chores around the house, exercising or even a dog walk (they have a dog) might be observed. Unfortunately, though, as was expected, there has been virtually no activities beyond a few outings in his girlfriend’s car, who I can safely guess is little more to him than his driver. These outings are likely little more than visits to a fast-food drive-thru for lack of anything better to do. I also suspect the bill was paid for by the ‘Driver’. The dress code also makes me think nothing much has changed. Its black clothes inclusive of drawn hoody and sports trainers for him, sleeveless tops and ‘cheeks on show’ short denim shorts for her. I hate to stereotype people, but I think most readers have a pretty good understanding of our very own Bonnie and Clyde. I guess, aslong as trips to ‘Five Guys’ is as active, as it gets, I’ll take it.

As for the bigger picture though, all this did make we wonder, how did they end up here?

For starters, I’m unsure why they’re still together. Weeks leading up to the arrest, ‘Shorts’ (we’ll call her) had been removed from the house by Police escort. It followed some domestics (there were a few), where she was kicked out, only to return the next Sunday to collect all her belongings. The Police were on hand to oversee the exodus of fairground stuffed animals likely for her own safety. It was a few weeks after this that Mr F**k was then taken away in the back of a Police car and neither of them has been seen since. At this point, I can perhaps fill in the blanks. Mr F**k goes down. Shorts gets wind of this and has likely been visiting him to the maximum visits permitted during the sentence. Shorts will have been bringing all the nice things he likes (not firearms, more likely jellytots and slushy’s) and counting down the days (there’s a calendar with X’s on for sure), which will be accompanied by social media posts, heading toward the release date. In the meantime, Mr F**k feeds Shorts the verbiage needed to keep her on-side and standing by. Mr F**k gets released and is reacquainted with Shorts; So far so good. However, I give it a week or so before the next domestic occurs or when one of his associates gives him a ride, rendering Shorts surplus to requirements. This is a very bad codependent couple but since nobody else is likely to have them, then it suits the pair of them.

What of the Parents? Well, they’ve not been seen either. Not even ‘the hand’ on takeaway night, although since they have a ‘Driver’ now, they’ll be able to save on delivery fees. I’m even wondering if Mr F**k and Shorts are indeed a younger version of the Parents and there’s some odd time-travel going on that we’re not aware of. Additionally, it seems nobody has a job in this house, as the Drivers car is always out front, all day, only disappearing for short periods of time, likely to collect fast food and cigarettes. Given the shear absence of Parents makes me think this is perhaps the root-cause of the problem; ‘Passive Parenting’. Those Parents who have kids but then seem unequipped or reluctant to raise them. Its sort of ‘make your own breakfast’ set-up. I completely understand how tiring Parenting can be, especially when you have to entertain, negotiate and micro-manage them (depending on their age), but this is not something you have to do all day everyday. You do it sometimes, some days. Each weekend I typically have some sort of activity and/or class for our kid to avoid ‘idle play’ round the house with no real direction or guidance. Yes, for sure there’s time for play and even watching some shows on Netflix (how else would Parents get their stuff done) but we push for activeness, outdoor time and interaction with others. We take our Son to a class each Saturday morning and reserve Sunday mornings for a possible trip to the Park, Swimming or even lesser activities, such as colouring, playdoh and just reading. Mrs Wife will always include our Son when making pancakes or baking something to engage him. It would be easy to just sit him infront of the TV all day while we sat in the other room doom-scrolling and drinking liquor, but we know where we’d end up wouldn’t we? Likely across the street! I know this sounds very ‘Parent One-upmanship’, and maybe it is but I can speak to this from my own experience and likely for my Dads too.

Back when I left school, I did so in very much my (flawed) style; doing the minimum to succeed. Some may think this as ‘working smart’, others would say risky. To elaborate, the 6th Form I wanted to attend required a minimum of 5 A-C GCSE grades and I was studying for 9 in my final 2-years of High School. In my final year, where you really had to focus and revise for those end of year exams, I ‘strategically’ decided I would almost flunk 4 of the 9 leaving no margin for error. I also shortsightedly took both Art and Graphic Design and anyone who took such courses will remember the excess of Coursework required, which forms part of your final grade. I’d take days off school to focus on my Graphic Design coursework, as this was one of the GCSEs I wanted to achieve a high-grade in. I also wanted to be a Graphic Designer back then, but knowing what I know now, I’m glad I didn’t venture down this road; It’s highly competitive, underpaid and I don’t have the creativity nor innovation to be a Designer. I’m a pragmatist who will take function over aesthetics everyday of the week. I don’t care what it looks like, aslong as its practical, operates and is cost-effective. Mrs Wife is the polar-opposite of course. The Washing Machine can go right up against the wall for her, no need to allow space at the back for ventilation or clearances for the waterlines, cables, etc. I of course monitor such gaps. Another prime example is an on-going debate about the Coffee machine. Once the coffee capsule has dispensed that glorious caffeine into my mug, I open up the top to release the pod into the dispenser and leave it open to ventilate the machine. Mrs Wife likes this to remain shut, as it ‘looks nicer’. Given that hot water has passed through the mechanisms, I know moisture and condensation are present and thus airing is required. Much like how a Kettle has a ‘chimney’ at the top to allow the steam to escape. Now Mrs Wife would argue had this been an issue, then Nespresso would’ve integrated a ‘chimney’ but cynical me thinks they know this and purposely don’t implement such a feature in the hope it eventually breaks forcing us to buy a new one. I’d also share the endless challenges we have when it comes to loading the Dishwasher but that’s a blog in itself.

So back to my GCSE year. I took Maths, English (duel award for Language and Literature), Science, Religious Education (these were mandatory), alongside Graphics, Art, IT and German. I decided to sacrifice Science, Religion, IT and German. In my opinion I would achieve A-Cs in the others. Long story short I did get my 5 A-Cs but only because my D-grade in Art traded-off against my surprise C-grade in German. Ultimately, I got accepted into my 6thForm of choice where after the first 12-months of discovering little more than ‘Birds and Beer’, I decided to drop-out. I’d also taken up a part-time job at a warehouse, which was more for the social appeal than any kind of work opportunity. I discussed my decision with my Dad and although he wasn’t over the moon, he decided to go with it, as long as I applied myself to the job to avoid the work of ‘idle hands’ and looked for a more productive job or other College courses in parallel. I think he felt a reset was in order.

As my domestic ‘gap year’ commenced, initially I was fine. I had money to go out at weekends and this was pretty much all I lived for back then. Plus, on my time off, I could sit at home watching MTV or Sky Movies, as my working hours were 3-days and 2 evenings. This meant I could be at home during the day. As time progressed, my friendships also started to change. The friendships I had with those focused on academia began to diminish and the ones with similar lifegoals to my own begun to flourish. Of course, it gets a tad boring after a bit watching re-runs of the same music videos on MTV Base, so I decided to venture out with my ‘idle cronies’. This entailed hanging around Town Centres, precincts and run-down boozers playing pool on a Tuesday lunchtime with the local alcoholics who always had ‘a story’ to tell. One high point of this gap year was passing my driving test at which point my good ol’ Dad decided to lend me his car during the day, as he was generally at the office. Side note, and for reasons still unclear to my Dad, during this time, he was uncharacteristically driving around in a black Ford Escort ‘SI’ (sports injected), which had a 1.8ltr engine complete with alloy wheels and white speed dials. I loved them white speed dials; Very rally esque. Now, driving around with this car, picking up my mates and ‘birds’ made me look the ‘bees knees’. I should at this point clarify, I know the term ‘bird’ is derogatory but unfortunately, it’s what us young Northern lads used ‘back in the day’. Luckily, I’ve never used ‘skirt’, ‘brass’, ‘squeeze’ or ‘ball n chain’.

As the days became quite repetitive and at times monotonous with no end in sight, challenges or new prospects ahead, my mind began to wander. I wasn’t necessarily getting into serious trouble, but I’d began to skip work more and more to the point of not turning up at all. I eventually gave it up all together at which point my Dad intervened to prevent further decline. My Dad initially managed to find me some work experience at a Graphic Design Studio to get me refocused, which I thoroughly enjoyed. He also pushed me to go to one of those ‘Labor Pool’ places, where you can literally start a job the next day. I remember one job entailed boxing up boot soles, which were used for Soldiers. I mean, could you find a more ‘dry’ job? I think even those poor sods who collect ‘feedback’ upon leaving an event likely have more interesting days than those sole moulders. Side note, I wonder if any of those got used in the Iraq War, which would’ve been around that time. Bet they had some stories. I think I lasted maybe 2-weeks at that place with the odd day missed in-between due to a hangover. At this stage my mental health had started to be impacted too, as panic attacks became a frequent occurrence. I realised my life was going nowhere.

As ever though, ‘come of the hour, come of my Dad’. My Dad decided to intervene further to get me back on track. Side note, it wasn’t as if my Dad, had the time to stick handle my early life crisis. He was a busy man with his own heavy work life, mortgage to pay and family to support. However, as is the nature of a great Dad, he took time to visit College’s with me to get me back into education. He even visited a new Tesco, which had just opened to enquire about job openings. I eventually enrolled back at that same 6th Form (a few eyes rolled from former Teachers) that I’d dropped-out of a year earlier. All the people who I started that 6th Form with were now off to Uni and I was effectively 2-years back just leaving High School. I did also end up with a job at Tesco, which went hand in hand with my studies enabling me to complete the 2-year course, whereby I achieved AVCEs in both Graphic Design and IT (or ICT as it became known). I never ventured to Uni, as I never felt it was for me but upon leaving College for a 2nd time, I instead searched for a Trainee job, one which might also come with a ‘day release’ to further progress myself in parallel with working experience. This was something my Dad also supported, as he himself had done a ‘day release’ when he started out his working life as a car mechanic. I ended up taking a job with a Design Consultancy working within the Construction Industry where I continued to develop my experience.

In hindsight, I should’ve done a day-release upon leaving High School, where I could’ve saved myself 3-years but equally I’m a strong believer in learning from your past mistakes. I think sometimes making wrong turns provides us with great context for future decision-making. I’ve had this in past relationships too, which didn’t workout and later enabled me to make better choices in subsequent ones. Each time I’ve gone off course in life, it’s provided me with guidance to ensure I never end up back there. It will also support me when parenting my own Son both now and in the future. I’ll be able to guide him through difficult times and catch him if he falls, as my Dad did with me and still does to this day.

This is what good parenting is though. If not your Parents, who else will unconditionally support you? There’s been many times through the years, where my Dad’s saved me from myself. Picked me and my mates up from some godforsaken places at some ungodly hours. I was pretty much stick handled until the ‘passing of the baton’ to Mrs Wife. These days, I’m very hardworking. I struggle to sit and be idle, even when I’ve deserved it. What job can I do to fill the next 5-minutes? Oh, I can empty the dishwasher (or re-organise Mrs Wife’ effort), take out the trash, maybe even sneak a quick vacuum in. It’s a work-ethic that my Dad instilled into me.

Long story short, as of today, I have somehow managed to work in 3 different Countries across 3 Continents. I now have an amazing Wife, Son and Dog in a life where me and Mrs Wife are self-sufficient. If someone had said to me back in the dark times of that 2000/2001 ‘gap year’ I’d end up here, I’d never have believed it.

As for Mr F**k and Shorts over the road, unlike my own Dad, clearly their Parents didn’t realise ‘The Kids Aren’t Alright’.