Cwmcarn Forest and my last love
Fforest Cwmcarn a fy nghariad olaf i
Welcome to Cwmcarn 😍 This page is going to be an ongoing project over the coming months. It is also part of my bucket list that I’m working on. My current status of being homeless will not stop me from updating this page regularly. I’m currently sat in Starbucks enjoying a large Caramel Macchiato. My laptop is charging, and unlike many other patrons here, I’m not in a rush. Self-esteem is also currently through the roof for a number of reasons: one of them being, I currently have the privilege of living in Cwmcarn Forest.
I have spent quite of bit of time living at Cwmcarn (as well as wild camping) over the last few months, and it has been out of choice. Choice has always been important to me, but it’s not always something I’ve had much say in. I’m aware of the alternative options available to someone in my situation. However, my choice was based on my happiness. Where would I be happiest? The thought of ‘surviving’ in homeless shelters surrounded by equally vulnerable people, many of whom struggle with addictions and mental health issues was not very appealing. The choice I made was the right choice. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve smashed the absolute fuck out of being homeless over the last few months. In that time, I experienced some truly amazing encounters with people, and even quite a few animals. Most of those interactions occurred at Cwmcarn and not a single person I spoke to had a clue I was homeless…some still don’t. Several people even commented on my lifestyle and how appealing it seemed. There was an element to blag to this, as there were some really shitty and low times, and successive chest infections (thanks to a this cunt) for a couple of months didn’t help. However, keeping busy and as active as possible, as well as drinking at least 3 litres of water a day helps to maintain my self-esteem.
I first visited Cwmcarn Forest when I moved to Wales over 20 years ago. Lydia, my former partner, took me there when we started seeing each other. It’s a place we used to visit fairly regularly, more so when we had children and Poppy. I have some amazing memories of spending time at Cwmcarn with Lydia when Lucy and Ollie were young. We’d regularly take them and Pops around the Scenic Drive, stopping off at the car parks en route and sometimes taking a picnic. Other times, we’d stop for a breakfast at the dog-friendly cafe and Poppy would enjoy my black pudding, plus some sausage and bacon 👌 Poppy also had a favourite walk at Cwmcarn, which nearly always included a dip in the lake. Cwmcarn Forest was also a regular destination for me after I started road cycling. The drive is perfect for climbing training, as well as improving downhill technique and the views are always sensational. However, after Poppy died, it became difficult visiting Cwmcarn…even on the bike. It wasn’t quite melancholy, as I’d often think of happy memories of Poppy, plus Lydia and the kids, but there was a real sadness attached to each visit too. That sadness stayed until I lived at Cwmcarn for the first time in March 2022.
Venus was her name…
Cwmcarn is also where I had several 1-2-1s and even a few sleepovers with my work coach from the jobcentre. This wasn’t part of a new initiative to support the homeless 😁 I asked my work coach out, and Jo sent me a text later that evening. We met at Cwmcarn 3 days later.
“I hope you didn’t mind me contacting you”
“I know I shouldn’t”
“This is just between you and I”
At the time we started our relationship, Jo was fully aware of what I intended to do when my ankles were healed. She had listened with great empathy when I explained the reasons behind my decision to end my life. Something I planned to achieve by inhaling pure nitrogen gas, or drinking a small overdose of Pentobarbital (a barbiturate) solution in water. A decision I made in 2020, and mostly triggered by the long-term effects from my head injury. Those effects include photosensitivity, racing thoughts and issues with concentration and focus. However, by the time I met Jo, I had discovered a way to almost eradicate the racing thoughts and gave me more control over concentration and focus (more on this later as it relates to my time with Jo and Cwmcarn 🤣). I originally planned on getting a first in my degree, then taking my bike to North Wales to celebrate, but not come back. A lot has changed since then, and I didn’t expect to lose Poppy, lose my brother, then cycling, struggle with knee issues, seriously injure both ankles, become homeless, meet a cunt like Darren, let alone meet someone truly unique and amazing as I thought Jo was. During one of our appointments at the Jobcentre (on a Saturday too), Jo revealed that she thought she would be alone for the rest of her life, as the result of some abusive and controlling relationships. She wasn’t even looking to meet someone. Jo even started to cry during the appointment. This motivated me more than anything to ask her out for dinner, as I saw an amazing person who gives so much of herself to others through her work and home life, but due to shitty experiences in previous relationships, had convinced her she should be alone. I asked her out to dinner at my next appointment, which was over the phone. I also asked if I could give her my old study books relating to mental health and psychology, as she had expressed an interest in working in mental health at previous appointments. Before asking, I realised the call may have been recorded (like mine are), or even monitored (for quality and training purposes), and that Jo may have to terminate the call or no longer be my work coach. At the time, I was glad I asked. Jo appreciated my sense of humour, my unique look at life and situations, plus my direct way of talking and creative use of words, especially swear words. It soon became apparent that Jo’s sense of humour was on a similar wavelength to mine, and like me, she had used this to help overcome challenging times through life. I was also blown away by her absolutely banging blue eyes 😍
Jo managed to get lost at Cwmcarn that Saturday morning: her ‘twat-nav’ had taken her through Cwmcarn village instead of down the main entrance to the forest drive, where I was waiting. She called me and I gave her directions to get to the entrance. When she pulled-up in her skip-on-wheels, we held each other for a moment and kissed. It was fucking incredible! We spent the day together, had lunch and had the most amazing time getting to know each other. Jo instantly fell in love with Cwmcarn too 🥰 The previous few months had been a bit grim for me for various reasons including seriously injuring both ankles in December. This resulted in me being stuck in my former family home after the breakdown of my relationship with Lydia a couple of months previously. Loneliness had become a real problem and this was compounded by the loss of cycling and the network of friends I had through it too. I also ‘lost’ the close friends I had from knowing Lydia. I have experienced quite a bit of shit in my 47 years in terms of trauma and shitty situations, but nothing, and I mean nothing comes close to the feeling of loneliness. It took a shit load of resolve to get through those months and I developed a number of coping skills, and used psychological techniques to help get me through the low times. These coping mechanisms included talking to, and playing with Marmite more often. I’ve called that cat many things in the last 8 years, but I never thought the annoying cunt would be my therapy cat 😂 I studied Welsh for a few hours every day, did puzzles and problem solving tasks and read my study books to keep my mind active as possible. As self-esteem was high, I even started home physiotherapy for my ankles by doing simple exercises in time to music. This progressed to dancing 😲
Cwrt Bleddyn…
The weekend after we met, Jo and I stayed at the Cwrt Bleddyn hotel, near Usk. We had a room in the lodge by the lake and it oozed romance. The hotel is set in the most spectacular rolling hills on a road I used to ride on regularly. We visited Llandegfedd Reservoir in the evening and shared some fish and chips watching the sun set. The fish was kinda fishy and gross, which is kinda ironic as fish amazingly connects the start and end of the relationship 🤮Jo paid for the hotel and I paid her back half when I got my monthly benefit. The tax payer was contributing to my share towards overnight stays, as well as petrol costs. This was on top of paying for my tent pitches, food and other costs such as travel, and giving £50 each to Lucy and Ollie. There was an obvious shortfall each month, even though I was receiving the housing element, plus Ollie was showing as a dependent on my account. This was something the jobcentre were aware of, but decided not to do anything about it due to the unique circumstances and the fact I wasn’t planning on being around for much longer. However, they didn’t know that I was in a relationship with Jo, who told me about the issue and the decision. When funds were limited†, which they often are, I’m unable to stay at proper campsites, so that’s when I usually wild camp. It’s my version of being homeless, although I’ve even slept on park benches in the last few months. I also stayed at my former family home in between stays on campsites. Selling whatever possessions I had left such as my bike, old bike frame, DSLR camera, records and golf clubs has provided occasional relief, but it also highlighted just how difficult it is for a motivated person to be homeless…whilst maintaining a committed relationship with a professional woman 😂 Jo also took me to her house a couple of days after we met. She parked by her garage around the back and we snuck in quietly, although due to a few reasons, it’s not somewhere I visited again until July.
My mind is completely consumed with you
Getting to know Jo was magical. We’d talk loads on the phone, WhatsApp and when we got together, we had such a laugh. She told me she fancied me the moment we met at the jobcentre for the first time in March, which probably explains why she told me that ‘Venus’ was her nickname for a part of her anatomy, plus several stories as to why 🤔 For someone not looking for a relationship, she was super-keen to boast about certain qualities, plus the fact that she has had 2 C-sections 😁 That was a conversation we had over lunch at the Halfway House pub less than a week before we stayed at the Cwrt Bleddyn hotel. We even spent the day together when she bought her new car (Casper). It felt great walking around the showroom and car lot hand-in-hand, occasionally stopping for a kiss. I even smoked a joint in the rear lot of Trade Centre Wales whilst Jo got shown her new car 😁 However, we had to be cautious because of Jo’s job, plus she was still my work coach. I had several face-to-face appointment with her at the jobcentre after we started sleeping together 😬 Jo and I talked at great length about keeping our relationship ‘secret’ in order to protect her job. Jo told me that she had never contacted a client in this way. I believed her. She also told me that she was just about to start a new position within the DWP. The new role was at the DWP’s prestigious new Ty Taf building in Treforest. Jo told me the change in roles would mean we’d be able to see each other more often…
It didn’t.
In fact, for the entire ‘relationship’ with Jo, I would generally only get to see her for a few minutes on her way home from Newport Jobcentre or Ty Taf in Treforest. I’d also usually spend a few hours travelling to meet her somewhere, only to get there and find out something, or someone else has come up and I was usually left feeling massively let down. On a few occasions, I was lucky enough to have Jo for a few hours. These would usually be when we spent the night together at some cheap hotel (as long as I had the money), and we’d usually spend that time driving around where she used to live when she was married to Dave the Donor and Paul. Wherever we went, we would always avoid the area she lives, Penygraig in Rhiwbina (Cardiff). There were red flags everywhere whilst Jo was using me in the most callous way possible. However, it’s important to note that Jo told me she loved me and was committed to me all the way through the relationship. She convinced me the constant let downs (at least 4 times a week) were coincidental and out of her control. In fact, I blocked Jo several times and asked her to leave me alone as I was struggling being in a ‘relationship’ with someone I felt so strongly about, but was unable to spend any time with. I was also struggling with loneliness, which Jo was 100% aware of. Jo would then convince me that she had to ‘see me again’ and missed me so much. I fell for it each time, until the morning after she left me stranded on her doorstep.
C₂₁H₃₀O₂…
This seems a good a time to introduce how I found a way to improve some of the long-term effects from my tbi: Delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), and I have my daughter to thank for it. It was just over a year ago, in July 2021 and Lucy had a couple of friends over in the garden enjoying a smoke. Someone jokingly asked if I wanted to roll one up for them. I used to smoke weed when I was younger, and I was happy to oblige 😁 I was then offered a toke. I had not smoked for about 20 years. In fact, I gave up smoking when Lydia and I were expecting Lucy! I had also not smoked weed for even longer than that. Within a few seconds of inhaling that first toke, I felt the racing thoughts start to ease off. I took a couple more and the effect increased. It was like a eureka moment, and I even felt a little emotional. I was still studying at the time, and over the following days, I did a lot of research using the OU’s library database with access to the best medical/science/research publications available. I searched for papers relating to the efficacy of using cannabis to treat the psychological and neurobiological symptoms associated with head injuries…and there were studies to support it. So, thanks to peer pressure from my, then 19-year-old daughter and her friends, I was smoking what some retarded people refer to as a ‘gateway drug’ 😬 The only downside was inhaling tobacco, but lung cancer is not something I’m worried about tbh 😁
The research showed (it’s almost like writing for science again 😂) that symptoms relating to depression and anxiety after a head injury were improved by using cannabis, and there were several studies all showing the same link. Now, just over a year later, I smoke cannabis most days, and on top of that, I’m smoking the best Cali weed available in the UK. The weed I smoked in the garden was ok, but the stuff I started smoking in January was on a different level altogether, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. I was still in quite severe pain from my ankle injuries from just a couple of weeks previously. The only pain relief I had till then was 160 tablets of co-codamol, which were of no use to me in their original form, as I don’t take paracetamol and haven’t done so for several years. I did, however use cold water extraction (CWE) in order to separate the codeine from the paracetamol. I don’t recommend doing this unless you know what you’re doing though. Paracetamol intoxication is not a nice, or quick way to go. However, CWE is piss easy and if someone manages to fuck it up and die, well they’re a fucking idiot (harsh, but fair). I did it stoned off my tits and the opioid solution I drank was lush 👌 I’m pretty sure it’s illegal though, so bear that in mind 🤔 Also, people who struggle with habit-forming addictions (such as DWP employees) probably shouldn’t do this as codeine is highly addictive. Opioid metabolism and tolerance levels vary greatly between individuals. This means that it is possible for some of those individuals to overdose on relatively low doses.
The Cali strains I started smoking made the ankle pain much more manageable, as well as continuing to improve my head injury symptoms. This also lifted my mood after being stuck inside and isolated over Christmas and New Year. Being a bit of nerd, especially when genetics are involved, I started to look into the genetic diversity of weed chemovars and the results were astonishing. Since the state of California decriminalised cannabis for recreational use in 2017, state-funded research, as well as from the private sector drove the cultivation of chemovars which could target specific conditions. The analgesic effects of cannabinoids have been well-known for quite some time, and as pain is a symptom of many chronic, debilitating and life-limiting conditions, it’s not surprising that many healthcare systems are prescribing medicinal cannabis to reduce suffering. Chemical compounds known as terpenes play a key role in generating chemovars which can improve symptoms relating to pain, anxiety, depression and mood disorders. Terpenes such as limonene, linalool and caryophyllene can even massively enhance arousal. A wide range of flavours and tastes can also be engineered through cross and selective breeding parent plants with certain chemical characteristics. I tend to go for citrus/lemon flavour chemovars, but the best I’ve had is peanut butter breath. It even tastes and smells like peanuts! The weed even helps keep my self-esteem high, as I get shit done when I’m stoned. It has made such a difference for me and I wish I had tried it when recovering from concussion. I’m pretty sure I could complete essays in a few hours stoned. I’ve been stoned for every single MH assessment I’ve had in recent months and left a senior psychiatrist completely lost for words on several occasions. I have at times demonstrated a better understanding of science, psychology and general knowledge than some of the MH professionals I’ve talked to 😬 Bar the very occasional loss of train of thought and/or speech or language issue, which have been present since my head injury, I have talked openly about death and answered hypothetical questions about my children’s grief, and not only been able to maintain a high level of concentration, I have kept my shit together too. I’ve even managed to make every single one of those professionals laugh.
This isn’t an open endorsement of cannabis btw. Many studies have shown an increased risk for users developing some psychiatric disorders, but the link isn’t clear. A person’s genetic makeup, as well as environmental factors, diet as well as that person’s response to stress and trauma are much more influential. I personally think ethanol alcohol (ETOH) is far more destructive. Not just psychologically, but also physiologically too. Had I not been drinking a bottle of wine most nights, I would not have tried to hang myself with Poppy’s lead as a result of some shitty stressors in 2019. Those stressors included devastating feelings of guilt, for being led to believe that I was the reason that someone I deeply cared for at the time, was raped. Cannabis works for me, and it has made such a positive difference over the last year. The only side-effect is the cost. It is completely unsustainable for someone in my financial situation, but it was only going to be a temporary solution anyway.
C₂H₆O & C₁₈H₂₁NO₃…
These are the molecular formulas for ethanol and codeine. Two substances that are responsible for far too many deaths every day. Alcohol is seen as being ‘socially acceptable’, and we’re encouraged to drink it through advertising and special offers. It’s also a substance that destroys lives, and not just the person who abuses it. Codeine and other opioid addictions such as Fentanyl are one of the biggest ongoing health threats affecting the world, along with bacterial resistance to antibiotics. These two chemical substances played a crucial role in my relationship with Jo.
Pods 10, 1 & 5…
Jo’s interesting take on getting her ‘5-a-day’ included a novel use of a banana in pod #5 at Cwmcarn. Amazingly, this has not put me off bananas!
If I don’t get a round of applause, I’ll be disappointed 🤭
Newport Shitty Council’s Rehousing Service…
When we started seeing each other, Jo told me that she wanted to save me, and that she wasn’t going to give up on me. I said from the start that she wasn’t going to change my mind, but the more time we spent together, the more I could see a future with her. Going forward depended on the help of Newport City Council (NCC). I reached out to NCC’s rehousing service with an email sent from Starbucks on the 30/06/2022. I explained my situation and how recent adverse weather conditions had left me exposed to extreme risk and if they could help with temporary accommodation. To their credit, the rehousing team got in touch very quickly…whilst I was still in Starbucks! 👍 An over-the-phone assessment was arranged for the next morning (I was staying at Cwmcarn at the time), and later that evening, I received a welfare check call from Blackwood Police Station. I had a frank and open discussion with PC Griffiths and explained my situation with a bit more detail and how meeting Jo had changed things for me. The next morning, Eric (affectionately referred to as ‘Eric the erection’…it just helps me remember names since my head injury) from NCC phoned to do the assessment. We spoke for over 20 minutes about how I became homeless, the impact of my head injury and how it is linked to my decision to end my life, as well as how choice is important to me. I also told him that it was my choice to be homeless in a tent and that had it not been for meeting Jo, I would not be here. Eric the erection was moved when listening to my story 🤭 Even though I managed to make him laugh several times during the call, it was difficult conversation for him. The call ended positively though. Eric advised that had it not been for a Rammstein concert in Cardiff that weekend, NCC would have placed me in a budget hotel or basic B&B in Newport, Cardiff or Caerphilly, but they were all fully booked. It had been about 24 hours since I reached out to NCC, but I was genuinely impressed with their response. NCC were going to help me…or so I thought.
A week passed with no contact from the rehousing team. I reached out to Eric via email and still didn’t get a reply. When I did get to speak to someone, I was advised that NCC sent an email to me on the 7th July. It’s now August and that email has still not been received. They had also tried contacting me using an old mobile number, even though Eric had managed to call me using the correct number 🤔 Eleven days passed until I spoke to the emergency accommodation team who had some amazing news for me: NCC had found me temporary accommodation!
I met Dan at the location on Commercial Road in Pillgwenlly (Pill), Newport later that day, Tuesday the 12th. Dan’s job, which he carried out with the enthusiasm usually associated with a trip to the dentist, included doing a quick risk assessment before going through the ‘house rules’. The rules quickly established that I would have no rights, no dignity and little privacy. The house rules alone made it feel like being homeless is a crime and I should agree to lose some basic rights when asking for help. No visitors were allowed at all, mixing with the other ‘inmates’ in their rooms was also forbidden and there was also a strict curfew. Some of those rules would’ve made it impossible to see Jo; other rules such made it impossible to use my phone or laptop, as all electrical devices, except those which are brand new and still boxed and the receipt were required to be PAT tested before they can be used. Wow, what an innovative and really helpful way to help homeless people stay connected in emergency accommodation! 🤔 Staff were also permitted to enter rooms at any time to search through my stuff. I asked Dan if someone would try to take my weed off me if found, and he replied that “it would be a breach” 😂 There was also a shared kitchen which had more rules such as only one inmate at a time can use it and inmates have to use their own cutlery, crockery, cookware, cleaning equipment. This one wasn’t so bad for me, as I had my camping stove, pans, cutlery, plus cleaning stuff from living in a tent since March. I signed my agreement to become an inmate in the knowledge that the rules alone would make it impossible to stay there for more than a few nights. Dan then had the pleasure of showing me my room. It was on the first floor, and thanks to the high ground floor ceilings, there were extra steps to get there. NCC were aware that I have ongoing knee problems and for the last few months, I have worn a strap to keep my left kneecap in place when walking. My right patella ligament has also been inflamed, with a burning sensation when the ligament is under load. Whilst I’m still very fit considering I haven’t done road cycling for over a year and on top of that, I look in excellent shape thanks to just 3% body fat from walking up to 100 km a week, steps are something that I try to avoid when possible. Never thought I’d be avoiding stairs at 46! 😂 So, I followed Dan’s joyless, but substantial shape up what felt like 100 steps to view my room for the next few nights. I was expecting basic, but it failed to meet that low expectation. There was a bed, with a mattress, a bedside unit, a single wardrobe, a chest of drawers and an absolutely minging window. The mattress was filthy and covered in stains. Knowing what I know about infections, I would not have slept on it. I quickly decided that I’d sleep on the floor, but a closer look at the state of the carpet left me doubting that. I sat on the bed for about 20 mins and realised I would not survive the night and it would have been a traumatic end (which was something I was hoping to avoid). In those 20 mins, I heard a fight in the street as wells as sirens from several police cars responding to various local emergencies. I couldn’t fault the entertainment tbh. There may not have been a TV, and my laptop needed PAT testing before I could use it, but the sights and sounds of Pill made up for the lack of any other stimulation. The building was about a kilometre to the bus station, and even further to the train station. Again, not helpful with my knee issues and reliance on public transport. I got my stuff, handed the key to the security guard and told him my reasons for leaving: I said that if I stayed, I would not last the night. I asked if I needed to sign out or contact anyone and he said he would give them a ring to let them know.
A bitter Pill to swallow…
I didn’t hear anything from NCC for a few days and continued to live in my tent at Cwmcarn. I emailed Eric again on the 15/07 to explain the urgency and uncertainty of my situation and to ask if any ‘suitable’ temporary accommodation had been found. I also stated my reasons as to why the room in Pill was unsuitable, and queried why it wasn’t the type of temporary accommodation that he suggested it would be on the phone. Eric didn’t reply. NCC next contacted me on the 27/07 with an email telling me that they have ended my Section 68 duty. Because I had decided not to stay in their offer of temporary accommodation, they were not going offer me anything else. To say this was a massive kick in the bollocks would be a bit of an understatement. By the time I read the email, I was already aware of their decision: the previous 12 days had been extremely eventful to say the least.
Good communication skills are the key to success…
This is where I can show off some impressive memory and technical skills, plus as Surrey County Council have finally complied with my subject access request* (it took the lazy cunts 4 months), it is perfect timing 👌
Click here to continue reading.
Evidence submitted to the DWP, includes phone conversations with Jo (in her role as my work coach/DWP supplied prostitute as well as other calls) and several of her colleagues, WhatsApp and SMS messages, journal messages, emails and subject access requests. Also, phone conversations with Gwent Police, South Wales Police, Newport City Council (NCC), Rachel Mackie, Pobl, Newport Gateway and the South Wales Argus are included. I’ve added these calls for context, as they show the lengths I went to ask for help with my situation. They also show how much I protected Jo’s identity and the fact she works for the Department of Wankers and a Prostitute (DWP). Calls from NCC reveal how I was promised that I would be placed in suitable temporary accommodation in the form of a budget hotel or basic B&B within 3 days. Two weeks passed until they offered me unsuitable accommodation on the second floor of a halfway house. The room itself was absolutely filthy from the floor to the ceiling, with stains and human hair on the carpets, mattress, windows and walls. NCC then removed their legal obligation to help me without finding me ANY suitable accommodation. They forced me to continue sleeping rough in a broken tent when I was struggling with mobility due to my knee issues. This was during the heatwave of 2022 which was unbearable enough in a tent, but my photosensitivity made conditions far worse.
Calls to the police are also included. These feature some of the finest officers from Gwent Police, plus Officer Linehan from South Wales Police. My calls to 101 are also included when I informed the police of Jo’s very relaxed attitude to sleeping with clients, as well as using them for odd-jobs around the house. I also informed Gwent Police that Jo had asked me to murder both her ex-husbands. However, shockingly the police weren’t at all fussed that a ‘person’ in a position of responsibility had acted like a complete cunt, as Jo repeatedly did. The police advised that it was a civil matter.
Most people I have talked to about my experiences over the last year or so have been utterly shocked to find out how little support I’ve received. This is in-spite of me coming close to freezing and starving on several occasions. This is also in-spite of me submitting the evidence to back up my allegations. Besides a few useless and incompetent cockstains at the DWP, most of the people I have talked to believe my version of events. Not really surprising when I have so much evidence to back up each allegation.
Jo, I realise alcoholics and junkies have issues with memory and honesty, so I hope you enjoy listening to your bullshit. When I finish, everyone you know will be aware of a what a complete cunt you are and how you treat those you claim to love. I reckon my experiences will resonate with a few fellas you have known…in fact, I know at least 2 guys who recognise your toxic behaviour.
Cwmcarn Media
I will be adding photos, videos and personal experiences about one of the most amazing places I have ever visited. If just one person reads this page and decides to visit to Cwmcarn Forest, then this bucket list project can be ticked off the list 👍
1, 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6: These are my duckling babies and I have known these needy little fuckers since they hatched. As the drakes didn’t hang around for long, I’m also the closest thing they have to a dad! I couldn’t be arsed to name them all, so I thought it would be easier to number them…I did nickname #1 and #2 piss, and shit respectively. They spend most of their charmed lives looking cute on the lake at Cwmcarn. When I stay on the campsite at Cwmcarn or if I’m wild camping close by, I start and end each day with a walk around the lake. After a couple of weeks of visiting the ducklings, they started to respond to my clicks. They even follow me when I walk up and down the bank of the lake. A few people, including Jo saw me do this. There were originally 12 ducklings, but due to some questionable parenting skills, an owl and a heron, some didn’t make it. I had the misfortune of watching one struggle in the water. I think it may have been attacked by the other hen…that was a genuinely traumatic start to that day! Had Poppy still been around, she would’ve swam in and retrieved the poor thing (after gingerly stepping in at the easiest point like she did every time 🤣).
Pump-track fail: I have some really funny memories from Cwmcarn, but this video is just gold. Pump-tracks are designed so that the rider uses their body movement with the rollers and berms to generate momentum instead of pedalling. They’re ideal for mountain bikers and BMX’ers to improve technique, although I used to whizz around the one at Cwmcarn on my road bike occasionally. Believe it or not, the person in this video had ridden a bike before, although this was her first (and last) go on a pump-track. I respond to humour in various ways depending on how funny I think something is, and if that response is my ‘Muttley’ laugh, then in ranks pretty high.
Squirrel head-shot: Please note: no squirrels were harmed during the making of this video.
Smell my finger: Bonding with a Robin using Sesame Snaps.
Douchebag: The same Robin just casually takes a shit in front of me then fucks off.
Father’s Day ducklings: I saw Lucy and Ollie on Father’s Day at Cwmcarn. I told them something in order to help them understand a decision I made. I also told Ollie that I had met someone special and that I saw a future with her. After chatting, Ollie and I walked around the lake and we saw a hen sitting on her nest. This was the first time I had seen this hen with all her brood. I haven’t edited my voice, I kinda got excited! 😁
“Are you having a good day?”: This video was taken when Jo and I went through the scenic drive together. I was fucking stoned off my tits, but so, so happy and as polite as ever 🤭
Jo’s zip-line fail: Instant karma! 🤣
Goodbye ball: This was taken in the back garden in my old family home. I occasionally stayed there in-between stays at Cwmcarn and wild camping (my new house is actually in the video). The object of the game was to do a drop-goal without it going over the hedge. Ollie lost a lot of rugby balls 😁
False widow: This was one of my smoking buddies. She was fierce as fuck and stood her ground against all other spiders and would even attack my fingers. Mind you, she was also hooked on cannabis thanks to passively smoking my weed. Watching a stoned spider trying to spin a web is a great way to pass the time, but I also saw her eating a few of her own babies due to the munchies. Spiders are fascinating creatures and the diversity between species is truly astounding. For an added bonus, they hate flies too!
Spastic goose: I saw this poor fucker when I was enjoying a joint by Caerphilly Castle. I was waiting for Jo to finish work…and on this occasion, she didn’t let me down! However, she then had to disappear again a little while later, so we only had about an hour together. I decided against sharing my joint with the goose and as soon as I stopped the video, I pointed out the cardboard to a passer-by. Then another person came along and we took action. I took my fleece off which was tied around my waist (as it pretty much is all the time) and placed it gently over the goose’s head, whilst the passer-bys took the cardboard off. I’m not sure if we saved that poor fucker’s life, the poor thing clearly had other issues, but we felt good about it and I sat back down to enjoy the rest of my joint.
“Another one who loves my nuts“: Feeding a squirrel with Jo at Cwmcarn.
I broke the toilet at Cwmcarn: I’m not sure if I can take sole credit for doing this…I definitely contributed, and I was the first person to realise the potential for someone’s toilet experience to be ruined in traumatic fashion. It took Cwmcarn quite a few weeks to fix this toilet.
My boy! This is one of my proudest moments as a parent and it showed a side of my son that filled me with so much happiness. Like most 16-year-olds, Ollie can be quite immature and insensitive towards others, and this regularly comes out in his actions and things he says. Other times he tries to be funny, and he often is, but he doesn’t seem to appreciate how and why others may be offended. Anyway, he was telling me about his mate, Paiwand from school who came to the UK when he was 7. He told me how loads of people used to tease, bully and racially taunt him, and before he finished the sentence, I said “Don’t tell me you were one of those people!”. He wasn’t, and the message that Paiwand sent him 9 years later was one of the most amazing things to hear from a parent’s perspective. I’ve played this message to quite a few people and it gets to me every time. I’m so proud of Lucy and Ollie. They are both amazing people.
* – Although my memory of events is bang on accurate from a young age, I still found out quite a bit about my early life that pre-dates those memories. From the age of around 4 months old, I was placed on the N.A.I register along with my brothers and sister. This was the result of Essex County Council (ECC) involvement after referrals by Essex Police. Repeated call outs showed no food in the house, dysfunction and struggling parents. Amazingly enough, a ECC social worker identified ‘screaming children‘ as a potential problem. The same social worker shared her thoughts with our mum that the children ‘must get her down’ 😬 Despite this intervention, both Essex and Surrey County Councils left us with a parent who had a mental illness that resulted in frequent violence and periods of neglect. SCC eventually took ‘action’ when my dad stabbed my mum and her partner in 1983. A year later, SCC kindly returned us to our dad. We stayed there until he was sectioned after another serious incident in 1986. SCC then placed one of my brothers and myself with a paedophile. My files show how I stopped Stephen Collins from abusing me to the level the cunt wanted to, and I did that at 13 years of age! Reading through a scanned copy of the witness statement I made all those years ago didn’t evoke any hidden memories, as I can recall quite a bit of the conversation with the child-protection officer. I can even remember making a cheeky comment about doughnuts…but I’ve always been a cheeky fucker 😁
They also show years of recorded visits to Broadmoor Hospital where I visited my dad whilst I was in care. This is where I stood up to another paedophile by telling Jimmy Savile to ‘fuck off’…twice. I still enjoy telling people to ‘fuck off’, although not many of them are as memorable as those two times.
It has taken several days to read through the 360 MB file of over 650 scanned documents, and despite being exposed to frequent episodes violence and trauma, they show a switched-on, but vulnerable kid who was repeatedly let down by those who either had a parental, or legal responsibility to look after him. They also show a child who could effectively communicate his feelings, even when suffering obvious signs of emotional and psychological abuse from a mentally ill parent. I sincerely hope the attitudes and priorities in the child-care system have improved since I was entirely dependent on it, as the quality in care was shockingly poor. Some of the typed and hand-written notes from ‘professional’ people I’ve had the misfortune of meeting as a child (and adult) suggest that many of them may have been retarded. I reckon Darren would’ve made a brilliant social worker in the 1970s 🤣
It was genuinely difficult reading through the file in several places. More so, as I did it on my own. I don’t mind admitting that it reduced me to tears several times. Not for reliving any of the trauma, but from reading the compelling evidence of a seriously disadvantaged childhood. I’m fucking proud of myself for getting through it the way I did. I took better care of myself as a child than anyone else did, and can say the same for my adult life too.
Despite being abused, hurt and repeatedly failed as a child, not a single person was held accountable by law for their involvement. Standing up to Steve at 13 meant my suffering wasn’t worthy of any compensation from the C.I.C.B either. It even took SCC around 4 years to reimburse me £500 to cover the cost of the loss of my personal possessions when I left ‘Florence and the paedo-machine’.
† – I owe massive thanks to an old study buddy and very good friend of mine for helping me since I reached out to her in June. Proof-reading psychology assignments and a case study on existentialism was not something I thought I’d be doing when I first started living in a tent, but I’ll never forget the help from her and her husband. Dziękuję na zawsze / Grazie per sempre ❤
