To Be Or Not To Be? That Is The Question.

My last post 'A Love Story' had some of you wondering what happened next. You got me thinking about it too. The more I thought about it the more I realised what an incredible story it is. In fact thinking about it has occupied a great deal of my thoughts this last couple of days.

If only it were that simple.

If I only had the skill, I could write a book about that love story. Or rather what started as a love story. It developed into a tale of lies, deceit, unfaithfulness, betrayal, broken marriage, criminality, newspaper headlines and finally imprisonment.

Never mind me writing a book about my childhood. I am beginning to think that every tale I tell has book potential.

Not only that, but I begin to realise that all the upset, trauma, mistakes, immaturity and downright stupidity in my eventful life, stems solely from those first days of my childhood. When my first memories are those of abandonment, by those who were supposed to care the most, my parents.

I don't say this to provoke pity or sadness. I simply say it as a statement of fact. What is done, is done. We all of us travel in one direction in this life. The clock cannot go backwards. We have to accept the hand that fate has given us. I am well aware of that. But sometimes I do get really bloody annoyed about it. I make no apology for that.

In lots of ways I am lucky. Many of those who had the same unhappy upbringing as me never came to terms with it. I have seen some of them sink down, down, down. I speak of drug abuse, prostitution and suicide. Somehow I avoided this aftermath. As I say, just luck. Or fate. One of my main side effects was relationships. Or rather being unable to stay in one.

In the game of love I am a loser. Every relationship I ever had, except for my children, and even that has room for improvement, has come to nothing in the end. Whose fault? Mine, most every time. There is love in me. Plenty of it to give. I believe in love, I truly do. Yet paradoxically, I cannot, and have never been able to believe that a woman could love me in return. That is where my relationships have fallen apart. I will always test love to the limit. Even the most understanding of women will realise the battle is lost in the end, and thereby, in my stupidity, my belief is confirmed.

But at least they never hate me. I retain friendship. That is a good thing. That way I know I'm not so bad.

Now, having opened my heart to you about my failings, my finger hovers nervously and undecided over the publish post key. Do I, or don't I?

Oh what the hell! This is my blog, and I'm old enough to say what I want to say.

Oh yes, I nearly forgot! Bridie and I, the sequel. No, no, there is too much to tell. Would you mind waiting for the book?