A Wish Before It Is Over…


When it’s gone, it’s gone.

This could be a B&Q sale, but it is not. This is my life and this is me trying to work out why I always tend to make it more difficult than it was ever intended to be.

I realised this morning, whilst in the bathroom, that I was afraid of dying. I came out of the bathroom and told my wife about my epiphany.

“It’s death, Sonya. I am afraid of death and always have been.”

Let me attempt to explain:

The oldest human to have ever lived died at the age of 120, and that was  20 years ago. A recent analysis of global demographic data suggests this may very well be the maximum age attainable by humans, and that it’s extremely unlikely anyone will ever live much beyond this advanced age. That is, unless we science the shit out of this problem. 

Now, I don’t want to live until I am 122.

The fact is that I don’t really have an age when I wish to clock-out. I have a ballpark estimate: mid-nineties if I am in good health and my manic mind has not consumed itself. If that is the case, I really wouldn’t give a crap about how old I wanted to be when the mortal-coil flicked me off into eternal nothingness. But my point is not about a certain age that is reached on point of death, but what I manage to do with this last years of my life before I get there.

Death scares me in the way that finishing an excellent novel scares me if I read it in the knowledge that that will be the last thing that I ever read. Not even the memory of the book will remain. Not even the feel of its pages.

From big questions to small pleasures. That’s how we keep going. I keep writing about the little things. That’s Rule 32 for the uninitiated. My little things include cycling, reading books, running or cycling with my wife, sitting in the dusk of a fine day and savouring what has gone before. Unfortunately, there are the big things too such as writing a novel that people will read, being able to make enough money from writing a novel that people will read; enough to let me live my life contentedly.

Then there is the whole business of trying to live a life that is worthy of its title.


I haven’t reached any sort of equilibrium between existence and acceptance and that bugs me.




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This is the story of what happened to me when anxiety took a grip. I lost my senses, I lost my job, and I lost me. I then turned to writing to find those things that had gone missing. How can you teach when you believe that education is a business that is failing in its primary remit of helping to create a better society? Indeed, how can you teach when you believe that you have nothing of value to pass on? The book/blog is the story of my recovery from the absolute darkness of the early days. It is an Odyssey through my life over the last twelve months and a retracing of my steps to discover how I found myself there. More than all of that, it is a re-evaluation and a rejoicing of all that which I call life. Happy reading and I hope it helps. There is madness, Everyday Madness, and not all of it comes from within.

2 thoughts on “A Wish Before It Is Over…”

  1. Well Stephen Hawkins I certainly am not ☺ Most of us bugger off and are forgotten about within two generations anyway Mike. I mean, even though I love the thought…. who the hell was the 2.4% Jew in my DNA?
    You have already impacted on peoples lives…go forth and have a beer x

    Liked by 1 person

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