53. I’m Sorry.

There are many things I am proud of in my life. I have won trophies and had many a slap on the back for being an all round nice guy. But for regular readers of my blog you will already know that I was always up to no good when I was younger. I never got into serious trouble with the exception of my driving escapades.

This blog entry is written with a deep sense of humility and is posted here as a way of cleansing my soul. Chances are that it wont work, I’m doomed to burn in hell anyway! At least I’ll be warm and as The Demon Crowley said in Good Omens, “Hell has the best musicians.”

For the people of the United States, please realise that none of the events that follow happened here and no police department should have need to follow-up on any of this.

Saying that, the people of my home town of Bury St.Edmunds, let me start off by saying I’m sorry and the following things I feel really bad about.


Chick King, Bury St.Edmunds. Home to drunks on a saturday night.

First of all to all the people who lived on the route I would stagger home on a Saturday night. Especially the part that took me from The Chick King carry out to my home at that time on the Westley Estate. All depending on A) how drunk I was and B) how hungry I was. As I would try my hardest to put one foot in front of the other hoping that I would wake up in my bed and not a bench somewhere, I would munch on the chicken and savour the potato surprise. I would then need to dispose of the box it came in. Now any normal person would put the box in the nearest trash can. Yeah, Normal. So if you woke up on a Sunday morning and wandered downstairs to pick up your newspaper off your doormat and found a half eaten box of greasy chicken. I’m really, really sorry that was me.

not quiet the same, but you get the picture

Secondly, on that same walk home somewhere along the Newmarket road, just past the old Barracks, there are some nice houses on the right. I was always impressed by the long driveways and thought that it would be nice to own a house like that. Anyway there was a house with a couple of stone pillars marking the driveway and on top some nice decorative stone balls. Being somewhat under the influence of alcohol I thought it would be a good idea to move the stone balls and place them in various random places, such as the owners fish pond. Again, I’m really, really sorry.

And now finally I want to say sorry to my Mother, and solve a family mystery that dates back to 1988.

As you have gathered by my previous faux-pas that I used to like to party it up at the weekend. And you’ll also notice that I never drove drunk, I would always walk home. Something that I think everyone should do. That cold air sometimes helps sober you up. There have been on the odd occasion where on my amble home that my bladder would get the better of me. So finding somewhere to relieve myself was a high priority. That would be dark secluded alleyways and such like. Then there was the time that my key wouldn’t work in the front door. The key fit, the lock worked, my hands didn’t. The booze, plus the fact that my bladder was giving me the two-minute warning was playing hard on my mental state. So I did the only thing I could, I pee’d in the front garden.

Ah the relief.

Now, that night my brother-in-laws had got me home and saw what was going on, so the buggered off as quick as they could, because they didn’t want to face my Mother and explain why her son was in this state.

Now time passes as it does and then one nice afternoon at the house during a family gathering my Mother was talking about her garden and how well it had grown this year. All except for the parsley, The parsley did not grow this year and she didn’t know why and she was most disappointed.

My brother-in-laws were choking back the tears of laughter and my mother looked confused. When asked why the were laughing, they refused to say why.

Well here’s the truth, Sorry Mum, I pee’d on your parsley!

Dead Parsley

Published by David

Guide, Traveller, Mentor, Writer, Depression Free!

8 thoughts on “53. I’m Sorry.

  1. Ah, there always comes a time that we must confess to the oopsy daisy moments of our youth. I recently did the same, admitting that I took a lap around Northville Downs in my 1970 Ford Galaxie 500 (would have won the race if the horses were out and it wasnt 3:30am). Very funny post Dave!

  2. Should a single herb in my garden not grow this year.. we’re going to have a little talk… 🙂
    Oh, those moments in our youth… we all have a reason to say, “I’m sorry.”

  3. I like your humble honesty and sense of humor in this post. I think a whole lot of people, including me sometimes when I am not on any influence of alcohol can relate to this blog entry. That’s one thing that I see that creates a division among blog writers. There are those who blog who they are. Then there are people who blog who they think they are. And then there are just those who do it for money. You are among the first and highest class of bloggers who show their true self by the style of prose and the attitude taken to writing. You don’t care what other people think by your posts, because you know it’s not relevant. With now over 7 billion people in the world (and most of them in or near cities where they can access a computer and read wordpress.com), you know that there are guaranteed to find people who like what you have to say.

    And by the way, thank you for visiting my blog earlier and commenting on the post regarding Malta beverages.

    Happy Blogging!


    1. To blog well you have to have something to say. Even if in my case it’s about how I’ve wasted a lot of time in my life. Blogging is a great way to self reflect on ones life and actions. Plus you need to be able to laugh, and I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life that I laugh about now. Most I’ve already written about, and I’m sure if I keep writing I’ll find some more! Thanks for commenting on my blog, come back again soon.

      1. My pleasure. I agree with what you said about how Blogging is a great way to self reflect and laugh. For example, today I wrote a post about how I found myself drinking, even though I am a grown adult, drinking infant formula imported from Russia as if it were candy, and even though it was totally honest and real, it was quite funny.

        And, I believe everybody has something to say, its just the most people are not gusty enough to say it.

  4. Hahaha! Your poor mum. At least she didn’t eat the parsley. I think she would have been much more upset that it did grow, and then to find out what you had done!

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