When I was totally broke
My friends gave me a money tree made of fake bills (and some real money) and tape.
( Floppy Donkey crawled out of the ditch., Mon 6 Oct 2008, 12:08, 3 replies)

My best mate, Simon.
At the end of 2003 I split up with my long-term girlfriend. We'd been living together for 8 years so as you can imagine there was loads of crap to sort out.

One such thing was the car. Since I'd been commuting to London by train, I'd sold mine, and we'd traded hers in to get a smart car, which she'd always wanted.

When we split up I moved to London and for the dual reasons of me 1. Not needing it for work and 2. Not wanting to be the owner of a smart car, she kept the car and I got some furniture.

That's all good but it left me without a car and, apart from work, I could really have done with some way of getting to see friends and family outside London.

So what did Simon (of the subject line) do?

He gave me a car. He just happened to have a spare car which he'd bought to do up but never got round to. It was a bit tatty and it needed a certain technique to start it, but it was a car and it got me around with far more convenience than walking or getting trains.

So, that's just my really long winded way of saying "my mate gave me a car". It still blows my mind that he did that for me: he'd bought it and regardless of the fact that he wasn't using it he wouldn't take any money from me for it.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:55, 2 replies)

Thanks to my father...
This may be an epic post from a long-time lurker and it is one I am, to some degree, loathe to post. I haven't, until recently, actually considered my life as unusual to date, assuming that everyone has their issues and mine have been no different. But, there have been those that have stressed, in incredulous voice, that I should write my tale down or even publish it, send it to some god-awful daytime show etc. etc.

I don't seek the limelight (usually), and I am not one given to bleeding-heart tales of weepiness, so I am reluctant to do so. So, in the interest of experimentation and at the urging of others, I am going to write down my tale, and I am going to do so here, amidst the fair-minded, non-judgemental stranges of B3ta!

So, obligatory wobbly lines effect and we're off into the past....

...I was born the eldest of two brothers to a young couple back in the late sixties, a time of tank-tops, bell-bottoms and free-love. I still recall black & white television and there being less than 4 channels to view. Decimal currency was a new-fangled idea when I was still small, and the East End of London was a rough, if noble place. So far, so good...

...When I was still very young my parents split up, seemingly due to my fathers lack of fidelity in nealy all departments. He stole from his mother, lied to his brothers, ran around with women all over the place, thieved from Bad People(tm) and his employers and was generally a nasty bit of work. He was, however, gifted with charisma and a very, very convincing manner which enabled him to get away with all the things he did.

For some reason, which to this day remains a mystery to me, he took me from the family home, bundled me into the back of a car with his latest girlfriend and absconded into the wilderness, seperating me and my brother. I was about three or four years old.

For the next couple of years I was hidden from my mother and my brother by my grandparents, in seeming collusion with my father. Indeed, there were apparently times when I would be locked in the bedroom at my grandparents flat and 'kept quiet' while my mother stood in the next room demanding to know where my father had hidden me. They denied all knowledge, protecting their son as he had persuaded them to do.

The years that follow are a blur. We moved from place to place at the behest of my father, all over the UK, never stopping in one home for more than a year, as though running and hiding from something (he no doubt had *many* people hunting him down). A step-sister came along, borne by the woman I had been forcibly taught to call 'mummy', and my schooling was a mis-mash of home tutoring and one primary after another.

I had a sense that 'something was wrong', and on those occasions when, as a small lad, I was truly upset I would often find myself crying for my 'mother' despite 'mummy' being right there in the house or room with me. Still, as the years passed these things faded away, along with memories of my earlier life.

By the time I was 9 years old we had actually settled into something of a normal family life as far as I was concerned. We were living in a tiny village in South Wales, my sister and I fought like cats and dogs, my father worked 'away' a lot (I later discovered that he did a stint at HM Pleasure for various frauds he'd carried out) and I settled into school at last.

Then, when I was 11, it all changed again. My father absconded with yet another new woman and vanished entirely. This left me in the care of his ex-girlfriend, who I thought (had been trained to think) was my mother.

Still, lots of children I knew were brought up by single parents so I didn't think it odd or unusual in any way and simply 'got on' with life.

Then, when I was 17, the storm broke.

I'd applied to join the armed forces and as part of the process the recruitment office performed a full background check. Of course, the information I gave them regarding my 'parents' didn't match the details they obtained from official sources and I can still remember the officer suggesting that I had 'some questions that need to be asked' of my mother. So, I went home and duly did so.

My 'mother' didn't flinch, to her credit, she stated the tale in a matter of fact manner and left me to digest it. In order to help me understand it, she placed a call to my uncle and he took me on the most surreal road-trip of my life - to meet my natural mother and two more sisters!

Now, my 'mother' (this may get confusing now) was effecient and hard-working as a parent, and I will never criticise her for that (though I will for the religious indoctrination she forced on me, but thats a tale for another day), but she never really showed me any affection (understandable really) and neither had my half-sister (her natural daughter), so the overwhelming flood of emotion from my natural mother, her new(ish) husband and my two additional sisters was utterly incomprehensible to me.

I did what was natural. I left home. I ran. Left everyone and everything. I never looked back.

Confused wasn't the word. The world I thought I knew was one of lies and illusions. Nothing was real, no one cared and the world was a Bad Place(tm) for the first time.

fifteen years go by (more wobbly lines are in order I think) as I fought and battled my way into a life of my own, redefining myself as I went, and mostly (save for two or three particular friends en route) alone.

Some of those years were bad indeed. I nearly found myself homeless more than once, and had to scrape a living as best I could, often living hand to mouth for long periods of time. But, it *made* me. You get strong or you perish, it's a simple choice.

In 1996 I met someone who changed my life forever, the first great love of my life, and the one who was to be MrsEffinDoubt in years to come. (Heh, she'd moved into my crappy bedsit within 2 weeks of us meeting and we've barely been a day apart since!).

Her family is relatively 'normal' (they'd laugh at that, but by comparison to my soap opera they are!) and they took me to their hearts straight away, even though it took a good few years for me to understand them and accept their affection. And they might just qualify for 'the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me' just by accepting me for who I was and allowing me to be part of their family.. ..but I shall move along.... (with a smile and a kiss for each of them)..

..as there was one more shocker in store, and that happened about 3 or 4 years ago now.

Out of the blue, my brother (the one I was seperated from at age 4) called me. "Hallo bruv", he said... I almost broke at that point, as I'd heard of him but we'd never met in any meaningful way.

We talked, albeit briefly, as he had news. My father had died in Australia and there was a will that needed sorting out.

The next few months saw me reconnected with my whole, original family, my natural mother, my sisters, my brother and the 'old man' (my mothers second husband) whom I now call 'dad' (bless him for allowing me that privilege!!)

The pathetic will was disbursed, the past was settled, and I had my family back.

This year, I became a father at the age of forty (Late I know, but I had pretty negative views of fathers and families you know!) and the LittleDoubt is.... the meaning of my life.

I'm not alone anymore.

So, thank you, Father, for dying and leaving that will. The world is better off without you, and now I will repair the damage you did to all these people.

but, without you I wouldn't be the person I am today. Perhaps not the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, but certainly the most important.

My Thanks for all of you that have read this far.

EDIT: A short list of people that helped me along the way - Richie, Mikey, Keith, Molly & Family, Mum, Dad & my Siblings - I love you all. You may never know just how much.
(EffinDoubt is breaking glass on, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:53, 10 replies)

My Mum
Another shitty day at work, feeling rather down on the world and couldn't wait to get home and hide under a duvet until the doom and gloom subsided. My phone beeped. Twas a text from my mum:

'You're young, clever, beautiful inside and out, a hard worker, a loving daughter and a ray of sunshine in this world. You are worth your weight in gold and have the strength of character to achieve everything you want in life and I am proud of you and love you very much. Xxx'


From nowhere at just the right time. She really does rock this world.

Since then I occasionally send random texts to the people I love telling them how much they mean to me as I now know that being told you are something special in somebody elses eyes (if not always your own) is flipping wonderful and can mean the difference between another crappy day cursing the world and having a little happy cry and feeling all fluffy inside. :-)
(Happycow - 2% pure beef, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:42, 2 replies)

This is quite nice...
I got a gaz this morning: "This QoTW has made me think I should tell you that if I see a post by you I make a point of reading it."

Anonymous b3tan: thanks. I'm touched - especially given that I've been rubbish for the last couple of months.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:34, 8 replies)

Father O'Whiskers.
If not for him, I wouldn't have become a Catolic.






(in fact I'd probably still be Eastern Orthodogs).


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:28, 5 replies)

Mr. Denis Brophy
In 1984, when I was in the 6th form, he was my house master, form master, physics teacher, computer studies teacher, PE teacher (occasionally) and tutor. He also ran the computer and electronics clubs.

And basically he gave me a lot of support, mostly without me realising it at the time. Thanks.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:25, Reply)

a fellow b3tan
said "I need a double entendre for the Question of the Week", so I gave her one.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:20, 2 replies)

It's a silly thing...
...but when I was going through the breakup of my marriage and getting a hard time from all of my ex-wife's friends and family about how I was taking the coward's way out and how I should be fighting for my marriage I got quite down about it all.

One day after a particularly arduous round of accusatory phone calls and emails I got a text from my mum that said "remember, without the rain we wouldn't have any rainbows".

Like I said, it's a silly thing, but it was exactly what I needed to hear, and just at the right time.


/length? 2 years too long...
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:09, 2 replies)

This one's very hard to tell and not at all funny I'm afraid
A year ago I broke up with my girfriend of 3 years - shortly afterwards I was tricked into getting another woman pregnant ('I can't conceive'). In an attempt to do 'the right thing' (whatever the fuck that is) I stayed with her until her physical and mental violence and basic insanity made this no longer viable. Incidentally our beautiful daughter was born 16-odd weeks ago and I'm not allowed to see her, and none of my family has ever seen her.

During this time my ex discovered she, too was pregnant (coil failure, just one of those things). Despite desperately wanting the child - and nothing from me in return - she knew this would ruin my already volatile situation with woman 'B', and had a termination. Given her age and history this was a bit of a final straw for her in terms of future pregnancies.

This was a sacrfice of truly herculean proportions - to date I am absolutely staggered that she would do such a thing for someone with whom she had actually split up. We're back together now and the poor thing now has to deal with my struggles to gain access to my daughter, all the while finding any talk of babies - and of course particularly my baby, almost unbearable for obvious reasons.

Maxine, I don't deserve you but I love you with every fibre of my being - you are truly an incredible human being.

*blubs like a girl*
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 11:06, 22 replies)

My Mother
Once pushed me all of the way out of her chuff, which I've always thought was rather nice of her.

Especially as I was only the second of her five kids, and now there are times when I'll walk passed her, I swear I can hear an echo.
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 10:58, Reply)

There was a power cut at my local pub..
and as I sat there in complete darkness to much woo-ing and laughter, I felt somebody unzip my fly and take my cock in their mouth ! I couldn't believe it.. What the Fuck is going on here !

At first I wanted to pull away.. but as her tongue expertly teased the tip of my penis..I couldn't help but sit back and enjoy it.

She took all of my cock in her mouth, then started to wank me hard.. I couldn't care less if the lights came on or not, because I was reaching the point of no return !

I shot my hot come, hard into her mouth, still not knowing who had sucked me dry ! But it felt so fucking good..I didn't care..though I was intensely curious as to who the mystery human vacccum cleaner was?

I whispered "That was amazing..Thank you" ! "What's your name"?.. But there was no reply.. I reached out into the darkness, but nobody was there.. she had gone.

About 5 minutes later, the lights came back on and I looked around at the other punters in the room, to try and catch a cheeky smile, or some way of finding out who had done the deed !

There was the ample breasted barmaid working away behind the bar, An old bearded man, 2 female students giggling to themselves, a comatosed drunk..and the pub dog.

Maybe it was a suck and run ?

I still do not know who it was.
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Mon 6 Oct 2008, 10:34, 6 replies)

My Mum
I write a lot about my Dad, but never mention my Mum (or my sister for that matter).

I was married to someone who I believed I loved and who loved me (I know she loved me, but that's another matter). I was in this relationship for all the wrong reasons and I, while I don't like to admit it, treated her very unfairly - I'm not proud of that at all - we married and had a child all because I felt it was all something I should be doing.

(I do have a point, by the way).

My (now ex) wife was the most unsociable, closed person I've ever met - nowadays, I wouldn't have given her time of day, but when we met - I did. She didn't go out, didn't drink, didn't eat spicy food or fish and only really cared about her family and her interests.

Those of you that know me will know that that's the total opposite of me - I realised too late in life.

She didn't care for my family and seemed to take great effort (subconsciously) in alienating me from them - especially my Mum - who never liked her really anyway.

My Mum was (and still is) one of the most important people in my life and she'd always been supportive of me and I of her - we'd supported each other when my Dad died, she supported me ceaselessly through my darker university days when I was going to quit after my mugging, she offered me advice and guidance and specifically told me to consider long and hard about the marriage (but didn't tell me to NOT get married).

My ex had no interest in my family and seemed to be happy to remove me from my Mum and all contact from her which I initially resisted, but then I went along with it - phone calls every other day went to once a week, to once a month to once every three months - and I'd never want to talk to her to say hello and if she called and my ex answered - JTW was busy.

I, on the face of it, had alienated my Mum as she had stopped calling, stopped inviting me over (like you need an invite from your Mum) and stopped trying to involve me in family.

Looking back, I treated my Mum horrendously.

Last year - or was it 2 years ago now - my marriage broke down horrendously (and finally).

Who was there to pick me up, help me, counsel me, guide me, love me? My Mum.

She called me when she found out about it and talked to me, tried to help me see what I should be doing (like trying to save the marriage) and tried to be there for me - unfortunately, my mind was still closed to help and I still pushed her away.

She didn't give up and when I hit close to rock bottom, she all but told me to pack a bag from wherever I was and move back in with her - no arguing or messing. Which is what I did for a month while I sorted myself out.

I'd lost over a stone in weight (which, for me was quite an achievement) and was a gibbering wreck - and I went teetotal for the whole time I was there. I was getting better. My Mum talked to me, made me listen, helped me to help her to understand the inevitability of it all and brought me back towards the person that I was.

I'm not there yet, but I am getting there. I still talk to my Mum a lot, sometimes 3-4 times a week, sometimes only once a week. But they're quality conversations and I no longer argue with her.

So, my Mum, the nicest thing she's ever done for me? She stood by me when I was doing my utmost to push her away. She didn't turn her back on her son when she could, very easily, have done so. She gave me the unconditional love that a parent bestows upon their child.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 10:33, 8 replies)

Budapest Homeless Help
Cuthbert Annihilator's story reminded me of a night out in Budapest in 2007.

I was over there for a few nights with a coupld of mates and we went on the beer on the first night and decided to venture further than the hostel bar.

We ended up trying a few bars (one of which was staffed by the Mafia, another kicked us out for no reason). In the end we were wandering around the a strange city, not knowing the language and were totally lost, admittedly it was a good tour tho, and my mate took a piss in a Hilton (a fact which he's still proud of).

By this point we were totally lost and the streets were totally deserted (3am ish). We finally ran into a local homeless guy on the streets and I had the flash of inspiration to ask him how to get back to the hostel! This genius was instantly crushed beneath the small fact that he didn't speak English, and we didn't speak Hungarian...

Fucksocks and cuntybollocks...

I then remember reading through the travel guide to the city and recalling that the second language is usually German, this is good thinks I as I have a GCSE in German...

The guy also spoke German, this was also a happy bonus, however, in my drunken state I could ask for where where I wanted to go, I could not understand the directions given...

Double cuntybollocks...

this guy then takes us back to the hostel having accepted no cash and having no clear promise of cash so when we got back we gave him 500 forints (just shy of £2).

It restored my health in humanity and so I tend to buy a big issue whenever out now...

I'm also going to apologise for length but it was worth it for the sights!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 10:16, 1 reply)

My friend George
Once gave me half a bag of maltesers.

;/
(ShitBitch, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 9:50, Reply)

the ANC.
I bought some chips from them, and they threw in a couple of potato cakes, and Nelson Mandela, for nothing!

[you probably have to have been around in the 80s to get this]
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 9:27, 5 replies)

I paid for some custom made alloy wheels from a retailer
who subsequently went into receivership.
The manufacturer had already made the wheels long before the retailer had gone to the receivers, but hadn't passed the (my) money on to the manufacturer. I paid £1400. It was lost.
My father then paid the manufacturer direct to get the wheels for me.
5 years later, I had a loan outstanding of approx £6000, which I owed to my father. Without any warning, he just cancelled the debt. No more to pay.
Mrs T isn't working at the moment, as she has taken 2 1/2 years off work to look after baby T, so the three of us are just surviving on my income only. Out of nowhere, my father just gave me £3000.
( turb0t, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 9:22, 3 replies)

Live love and happiness
i'll be quick...

Gaz Fisher. Gave me a home, put up with drunkeness, my mental ex and me generally having a bit of a breakdown. He was a legend already but achieved the rank of hero. If you are on the south coast/a rave/festival and see a DJ in a GI helmet and cowhide trews give him a hug and tell him bob loves him :) (he may well be still running under the title "buddhakan headset" (go see him Dj ffs you'll love it) and driving a big lovely truck)

Donald. On the worst birthday of my life he brought me cake and let me know i could be a dickhead for a fortnight when i really needed to be. Just thinking of that cake makes me cry. and he's the best bloody funk dj/bloke in the world. All hail!

Monkey. Known him since i was a toddler. He has done so much for me and i have only ever done his head in. I havnt spoken to him for ages as i can't look him in the eye because i am simply ashamed of my behaviour. One of the few people i really respect and i just annoy him. Legend to all.

The Goonies. what now?! I mean the kids in secondlife. I was lucky enough to spend a night inworld with these lovely folk as they celebrated burning life (SL burning man festival) and they gave me back SL, fun and a love of both lives. Goonies never say die! www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_aCAvQlasY&feature=user

Jamit. I love her and she has put up with a lot. We act like kids, have adventures and only argue about where i leave my socks. Damn she's a keeper :)

Django. When i was skint he drove me to work, payed my rent on my SL shop, bought me brews. He's a fucking gent, a good mate and has stuck by me through thick and thin. Now we work together and he hasn't killed me yet. Which is amazing by itself. Now he's teaching your children to be media geniuses and i can't imagine anyone better. He uses ghibli films in projects. thats all i have to say.

You. you bloody cynical, tasteless bastards have given me hope, joy and faith in humanity. if people who laugh at the kind of thing on this board can say and od the things you have then all is right with the world.
(DreddPirateBob has watched every scifi film ever on, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 7:56, 1 reply)

I remembered this weekend
While visiting my old man in hospital I remembered the nicest thing anyone did for me.

I was 24 and in hospital for about 3 days. but that just so happened to coincide with the super 14 final. My mates rocked up to watch it with me in the room on the tiny hospital TV, foregoing all alcohol and merryment, just to keep me company.

Cheers guys. *sniff*
(Bluffboy South Africa! World Champions!!!, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 7:35, Reply)

Ballet dancers
Many years ago, this barely into my 20's country bumpkin decided to take a day trip to London all on my lonesome.
Return ticket sorted. Plan was to spend the day shopping and sightseeing.
Got there ok, shopped, sightseed, ate my first and last ever Maccy D, yeuch.
Gets back to Victoria station to get my coach home.
Waits for my coach that doesnt arrive.
Realises that on my outward journey the driver had taken my return part of the ticket and i had been waiting for a coach home that had long gone.
The ticket office was just about to close but after much discussion of the problem they arranged another ticket for me to travel home in the morning.
So I'm stuck in the bus station and decide all I can do is try to sleep on a bench.
This was new, and sleep eluded me, specially as I was scared, nervous and pregnant ( unfortunately not for much longer :( ) and twice the police wanted to ask me why i was trying to sleep on a bench and what was in my bag full of London goodies.
So I'm sitting there trying to look savvy and not cry when 2 men approach me and ask if they can help.
I cant remember the actual conversation but then I found myself on a bus going somewhere in London with 2 guys who said they could get me a bed for the night.
I was wary but somehow they seemed genuine.
Was taken to a house in Maida Vale that was occupied by ballet dancers, it may have been members of the Ballet Rambert?
Anyway I was given a room that I could lock, I slept soundly and they made me a lovely breakfast and put me in a taxi to Victoria in the morning for my coach home.
Ive no idea what their names were or where in Maida Vale the house was.
But ive never forgotten that lovely act of kindness and if by any chance any of them are here and remember that, thank you :)
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 3:37, 2 replies)

Saving Teh Fluffeh
I have a large tabby tabby tomcat named Simon. He is currently curled up next to me, purring his rumbly purr and being a happy cat. I've written about His Furness in a couple other QOTW....

Two years ago, I noticed that he was a bit poorly and had been off his food for a couple of days. I took him to the vet with my boyfriend, where I was informed that he was suffering from a rather rare liver disorder that struck very quickly, was very very often fatal, and that there was an almost certain chance that he would die, unless he underwent an EXTREMELY expensive operation, after which he would need to be hand-fed every three hours for several weeks. If I could afford the operation, there was a very good chance he'd make it; if not, I was best off just putting him down, as the chances for survival were rather poor.

At the time, I had NO money, was preparing to move, and had no savings to draw on. As I stood there in shock, wondering how I could possibly cope with the fact that I was going to have to put my cat down due to nothing more than sheer poverty, my incredibly boyfriend simply looked at me and said, "Well, that's settled then. We'll just pay for the operation together."

He paid for more than half of my cat's vet bills, stayed up at night with me when kitty needed round-the-clock care, and then carefully managed his breaks at work so that he could come home to care for him when I wasn't able to get away from work, all because he knew how attached I was to my cat, and because he's also a big soppy that couldn't bear the idea of putting down my big purring cat.

That act pretty much sums up why I think he's absolutely wonderful. Saving the life of one little kitty cat was important enough to him to part with a significant chunk of money and time, and he expected nothing at all in return.

I'm still with both of them today--the cat AND the boyfriend.
(herbivorous, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 2:20, 1 reply)

my best friends...
During my first year of uni, i was going through a very bad time. I'd found out that my so called best mate was sleeping with my boyfriend. She even went to the extent of freezing me out of the friendship group we hung out with (and lived with). So with "my friends" hating me and a relationship ruined, i sank into a deep depression. So much so that i thought it would be a good idea to end it all.
So i brought pills and vodka and began to drink in a park by uni. Only to get a phone call (bloody forgot to turn my mobile off).
this phone call was from a guy i hardly knew and met him a few days before. He is a very extroverted character and sometimes can be difficult to handle. He explained he heard what happened and wanted to know if i was okay.
At that moment i broke down and told him. He come and got me and took me to the uni nurse to get some help and then took me to one of the halls.
There he introduced me to 5 people who at first didn't know what i did, but took me under their wings and looked after me. (mainly with tea, biscuits and laughter).
To this day we are all very close and they have been there and supported me through everything (without judging me) - and i have for them.
Without them i really do believe that i wouldn't be here today. They have given me trust back in people and shown that not everyone is mean!
To all you guys (you know who you are) i love you all!!!
:)
(VodkaMargarine When there is no Brandy Butter..., Mon 6 Oct 2008, 1:55, Reply)

It has to be
My philosophy teachers. I doubt any of them read b3ta, but I hope to be able to tell them in person one day soon...

I started my last years at school without much idea what I wanted to do. I knew though, that I would almost certainly end up doing a science degree (I'm currently at uni, studying physics). My old religious studies teacher (Mrs. E) talked me into studying philosophy - I'd always been good at that sort of thing, and she assured me that it would look good on a personal statement or CV. It also seemed like a doss subject - they had a 100% pass rate for the previous year.

In some ways, it was a doss subject. I ended up with a B, despite not doing as well in the final exams as I should have. If you learnt the names and the theories, it was easy. You didn't have to understand them.

But I wanted to. As long as I can remember, I've looked for truth.

I was very depressed shortly after finishing my GCSE's. Not medically, but I'm sure most of you know what I mean. At that age you can't understand what's going on. The universe seems horribly unfair, and you're unable to believe that anything will ever get better. I was afraid of death - why should I stop forever? How dare the world decree such a short lifespan for me?

Studying philosophy as I did opened my mind. I'll never believe in a God, but I was made to think why. I was made to consider everything I'd done and why I had done it, in a way I never had before.

I realised at last that death was not something to be feared - I would become a part of everything again, as I was before I was born. That might not seem like much of a revelation to some people, but I felt such happiness and joy that I can't put it into words. I finally realised that I am a part of all the beauty in the world, and I will continue to be for ever, long after my body has crumbled to dust and vanished.

Every time I feel sad and sorry for myself, I think about that, and I find it impossible to be sad. I see all the wonder and beauty in the world now, and my only regret is that there are people who won't listen when I try to tell them about it.

So I would like to thank those who taught me that the world is greater than one man.
( MatJ LOOK, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 1:26, 8 replies)

yay friends
well this is my first post however I has been lurking for a while...
Anyhoo.
Rather recently my dearest mother departed this world
And I was quite obviously very shaken and upset.
I was living in halls at uni when I got the news and being
All the way up in leedshire it took a few days to organize
Transportations down to oxfordshire.
I will keep it short but just want to thank all my good friends
Who I had only met that very year for being so kind
And helping me through it all before I went home and when I
Got back. Especially to one mate who went through similar
Circumstances but with a much happier ending.
Best friends a guy could ask for, and it meant alot to me.
:)
( mr schteven In a staring competition with a squid on, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 0:38, 5 replies)

After a work night out at which I stayed resolutely sober,
my drunken work collegues informed me that my car was just around the corner, and then promptly buggered off to a strip club. My car wasn't just around the corner at all, and not knowing Liverpool at all, I wandered around for nearly three hours not having any of their mobile numbers or indeed any mobile credit and barely any battery power left. And about 97p in my wallet.

Eventually a beggar (ironically the only other sober person in town) came up to me and politely asked for 65p. Not having anything else to do, I gave it to him. Then, I thought, what with him knowing the streets, he might be able to find my car. So I gave an incredibly vague description of where my car was, as I stupidly didn't account of where I'd parked and the vague description was all I had.

He knew exactly where I meant and guided me for about three miles to it. To be honest, I was half expecting to be stabbed by him, especially after asking to be guided to a dark deserted carpark and only having sensationalist news reports to form an opinion on what city centres were like at 2am. And I suppose in retrospect, I should have given him a bit more than the initial 65p after he walked three miles (and presumably three miles back) for me. So, friendly scouse beggar, thanks for that.

As it turned out though, after I bade farewell to the friendly beggar, I found the carpark was locked. So I promptly got lost again and wandered around for another few hours. But it's the thought that counts.
(Cuthbert Annihilator, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 0:33, 1 reply)

family holiday
I was about 8 and my mum and dad had saved up for a big family holiday. We had deliberatley not had a holiday for about 3 yrs, to save up for it.

About 4 weeks before we were due to go, by older brother was diagnosed with Cancer. As a result the holiday was cancelled. I was terribly selfish being the youngest of the family, i was not only angry about my brother getting cancer, and possibly may die, but i was also angry my holiday had been cancelled.

A lad from my school approached me about a week after the news had spread round the class. He invited me to his caravan at half term because i wasnt going on holiday - i could go on his.

We didnt know each other at all back then. but we ended up being best freinds, and spending most holidays at his caravan me him and his mum.

We are still good friends today.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 6 Oct 2008, 0:14, Reply)

it's my first post please be nice...
It was New Years' Eve, and I was due to work behid a bar till 4am, about which I was much depressed. Before leaving, it seemed like a sound idea to have a shot or two with my housemates in order to try and get some kind of goodwill rolling. As I was supposed to be leaving work and joining some friends at a party afterwards, I bought a bottle of rum on the way.

By midnight, the evening was going swimmingly. We'd all lubricated ourselves quite cheerfully behind the bar, and to joyfully launch the new year, more shots came out during big ben. Unfortunately, shots of Absinthe. After which, everything is black.

The next thing I knew, I was coming to on a nightbus. And I didn't know where. Or how I'd got there. Or where I was going. And somewhere in my brain it made sense to get off. I found myself on a street somewhere in the suburbs, possibly in South London, but to be fair, it could have been anywhere. A quick inventory of my pockets demonstrates that I have no phone but am stil carrying an empty rum bottle around. At this point I realise the fact that I am completely screwed.

After about an hour of aimless wandering, I find a telephone box and use my last 50p to attempt phoning for help. Obviously, weeping into the phone that I'm lost and I don't know where in London I am and I need help produces very little in the way of positive suggestions from my friends, who it turned out had been awaiting my arrival in North London, having heard me trying to organise a taxi in an earlier phone call. Of which I have no recollection.

I leave the phone box in a state of absolute dismay, give up, sit down on the curb and cry. It's getting light outside, and having dressed for a night behind a sweaty bar followed by the best part of the next day in a sweaty warehouse I am now frozen. My brain is starting to come to properly, but I still can't walk straight.

Just at that point in time, a black London taxi pulls up next to me. The driver asks if I'm ok, as I am a shivering wreck. I tell him that I don't have any money for a taxi, but I wondered if he knew how to get back to my house, or even if he could just tell me where exactly I am and if there's a bus I can get to anywhere I know.

I must have been a completely desperate sight. He looks me up and down and tells me that he's made enough money tonight, and that if I want he'll just take me home. I don't know how long I was in that taxi, or where I went. I remember it taking ages, and I remember being lost. I think I may have cried over my early dismissal from work and my lost phone. I know for certain that I was not the easiest fare that guy had all night, and I know that on new years' eve I should have been charged an absolute fortune. And even thought I had to break into my house with a brick when I eventually did get home, I never even would have been there had it not been for that man, who I quite possibly never even thanked...
(msinformation, Sun 5 Oct 2008, 23:45, 2 replies)

*sobs*
these stories are making me weepy. i cant think of anything that really sticks out in my mind and certainly nothing that will drive anyone to tears so this may be brief.

2 years ago my then boyfriend who my parents thought i would marry and have kids with broke up with me he refused to have anything to do with me. id been with him for like ever and i was devestated. my mum drove all the way up to see me, give me hugs, make sure i was eating etc (i dont deal with these things well). my dad wanted to break his legs...bless him.

when i quit uni they let me move back home and helped me find a job and get out of debt and all they asked for was £100 a month to cover food and bills which is not a lot.
as lucky as i feel for getting this job, where i live - the back of beyond- people dont move in and out of jobs very quickly and its going nowhere and ive been driving them insane complaining about it. but, ive finally decided to do my nursing degree. its only taken me 5 years to decide since school but they were very happy for me and really suppportive.
its a decision i think i will not regret.
(fernbrittonsexcessskin will give a shit later, Sun 5 Oct 2008, 23:22, 1 reply)

Whilst most QOTWs are a pleasure to read
I have to say that this one stands out. People can be nice after all, instead of being inveterate bastards that most people seem to be these days. So, onto my second answer- possibly the best thing anyone has done over the past few years- provide me with a home.

It was September 2006- suffice to say, things weren't going to well for me. I was stuck in a job that can only be described as soul-destroying. Working in a betting shop is not the ideal career choice, believe me. Even the upshot of reading and smoking my way through the day soon paled into grey insignificance in the face of yet another haggard punter wanting to put on a 5p Lucky 15 for the races over the afternoon. They may have enjoyed being down there, as it got them away from what I can only assume to be extremely shrewish wives, but for me it was hell. I was not in a good way. I only lived round the corner, which was handy, but by God I was dying inside, slowly.

And then I got some really bad news- Mum had a possible cancer diagnosis, which made things not exactly rosey. I couldn't afford to go and see her, such were my wages, which went on food, rather than rent, they were so low. And then, as I couldn't pay my rent, despite having a paying job, a parent with (possible) cancer, and debts coming out of my ears. To be honest, I was probably a few days away from suicide. And then it got even worse- I kicked out by the landlord. An Imam, on point of fact. Now I'm sure Islam has charity as one of the 5 pillars, but he wasn't following it that day. But that's the last I will say on that point, this is not going to be an anti-religious rant. I'll let the many and varied atheists take care of that for me. So, there I was, homeless, in a job I hated, with a parent facing something life-altering, possibly destroying. I wasn't in a good way, truth be told. And so, back to the parent.

In my utmost hour of need, when I was possibly at my lowest, she provided me with a home, a roof over my head. Over the last two years she has tolerated me, listened to me, helped me, fed me, and been a Mum. And actually repaired our relationship to a point where we can actually talk. Oh yes- things were very difficult between me and Mum, we didn't have the best relationship in the world. And the fact she wasn't actually obliged to have me in the house. She could have left me to rot, but she didn't. She took me in when no-one else would, and best of all, helped me grow up to a point where I can actually look after myself. And so, two years later, I felt able to take on the world again. And so here I am, posting from my new home, saying one thing. Thanks Mum!

And even better- the cancer diagnosis was thankfully a false alarm.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sun 5 Oct 2008, 23:18, Reply)

Many people have done many great things for me
But one that stands out is the actions of a distributor for the previous company. I had gone over to assist in a Hifi show in the Netherlands. I went over on the wednesday night for setup on the thursday and exhibiting on the friday saturday and sunday. The setup went to plan and I went for a meal with the distributor and his team on the thursday night. Whilst there, I received a voicemail message from a schoolfriend- he had managed to get no less than 15 of my schoolfriends together for a wild night in Amsterdam- that saturday. The last bit of the message then berated me for not giving him my new mobile number but he was giving me all the notice he could. Well I might have been in the same country but I was working and might as well been in Rekjavik for the difference it was going to make. I finished the message, sent a text apologising for my inability to stay in contact with people and went back to the table.

"Anything wrong?" asked my Dutch colleague.

"No its fine" I said "just unfortunate timing in that a schoolfriend of mine has invited me to an overnighter in Amsterdam this weekend but hadn't been able to get hold of me until today so I'm going to have to pass."

And then it went a bit surreal

"Why?- you're only an hour away." Came the reply

"Well yes but I'm working with you this weekend as booked and requested by you for some time."

"We'll be fine, do some demo work tomorrow morning and you can be there by the afternoon. We'll see you on the Sunday afternoon."

And with that, he signed me off for a night of insanity, drove me to the station and never said a word about my absence to my employers.

Andre- you're a champion.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Sun 5 Oct 2008, 22:43, Reply)