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    matthew55 cheers mate, I will watch it tomorrow


      I've seen Escape To Victory. Is it similar?


        If you are a regular reader of my posts, by now you might have picked up on the theme of "my first" events. This to me has been the most beneficial therapy I have had in my life. It matters not if anyone read it, but for me it's helpful to articulate life events that have had an impact on my mental and physical wellbeing.

        By writing it and seeing it written helps me tremendously. Some of "my first" life stories to follow is going to be a shocking but by the end you might understand. I fully intend to also give an account of the "my first" events of the progression of my disease.



          Originally posted by DJW View Post
          If you are a regular reader of my posts, by now you might have picked up on the theme of "my first" events. This to me has been the most beneficial therapy I have had in my life. It matters not if anyone read it, but for me it's helpful to articulate life events that have had an impact on my mental and physical wellbeing.

          By writing it and seeing it written helps me tremendously. Some of "my first" life stories to follow is going to be a shocking but by the end you might understand. I fully intend to also give an account of the "my first" events of the progression of my disease.

          I enjoy the reads. You articulate in a way that all most puts you there.



            This story I am going to call Zinkwazi, it's the Zulu name meaning “Place of the Fish Eagle” and it's name of a beautiful beach situated on the east coast KwaZulu Natal.

            Zinkwazi river ran into the sea but it's estuary now as there is a high sand bank stopping the river flowing into the sea and home to a wide variety of beautiful birdlife, including many majestic fish eagles.

            Before I go any further I need to go back for this story to make any sense so I am going to tell you about my mum, Ivy.

            I loved my mum very much, she passed away at 11:15 on the 13/08/2014 in her mid 60's. Her father and all his brothers died at roughly the same age from cardiovascular disease. My mum's health had been deteriorated over the previous 12 years. Her memory had been getting worse and she was losing the ability to read, write or even follow TV.

            She visited my then girlfriend, Charlotte, and I in 2002 and was struggling with learning how to operate the shower. She had a brain scan done in RSA that showed small areas in her brain that had been damaged by mini strokes. As the years passed she became very agitated and would pace back and forth mumbling incoherently. She also lost the ability to communicate in English and spoke in Afrikaans her mother tongue.

            Due to my age of MND diagnosis 46 years old, the neurologist at the National Hospital London was very interested to learn about her condition. She put it to me that she thinks that she had frontotemporal dementia form of ALS. A blood sample was taken for genetic testing. I am yet to get the result.

            From my perspective and taking into account she had a strong family history of cardiovascular disease, she had been over weight for as long as I knew her and was taking statins for high cholesterol. It never occurred to me that her demise was might have been caused by MND.

            Last edited by DJW; 8 March 2021, 15:57.


              Zinkwazi part 2

              My mum's weight problem I believe was related to comfort eating. She was an only child but taken away from her parents by social services. She had been exploted by a family member so that that family member may gain financial benefit at the expense of her innocence.

              Her mother and father were both Afrikaners and heavy users of alcohol. It's my understanding that her father got wind of the rape and sexual assaults, came home and caught a perpetrator committing an assault against his daughter.

              He hit the man so hard with a metal chain that his nose exploded and the crime scene was covered in my mum's perpetrators blood and fecal matter all witnessed by my poor mum.

              When Ivy was in her late teens she was a buxom, curvaceous young lady and caught the eye of my father Brian. He fully admits that it was her breasts that made him pursue her.

              They married and she was pregnant, carried the baby to term but sadly a still birth. Next pregnancy was my sister Charmaine. Ivy was just into her twenties and I don't think that it had really occurred to her the actual sacrifice that one makes when one becomes a parent. She felt caged in finally being free from the rigours of the social care system to the drudgery of parenthood.She wanted to do what all her friends were doing and go drinking and dancing.

              They had a unstable relationship, I came along and this did nothing to curb my mum's desire for a night out. This drove my father nuts and was mortality offended. He wanted her to stay at home and be a house wife. He gave her an ultimatum, stop going out leaving me with the babies or enjoy bring up the children on your own. Needless to say he abandoned us.

              Last edited by DJW; 8 March 2021, 15:29.


                Bowler Thanks mate 👍


                  Zinkwazi part 3

                  My mum wanted a new start and left the cold Atlantic Ocean and dry air of Cape Town and relocated to the golden sand beaches licked by the warm Indian Ocean and stifling humidity of Durban. My sister to a large degree brought me up during the next few years, my mum was doing her best to work and bringing money and keep up with social life are going out in the evenings.

                  Eventually it was inevitable that she needed to find a partner to help bring up the children and contribute financially. She joined a dating service and I remember her having several men on the go. She was looking for a sucker and that sucker his name was John. When we initially introduced to John or perhaps the other way around he was as sweet as condensed milk. One might even say sickly!

                  John was a virgin and my mother was a player but they both played the game. John peacocked is assets and strutted about showing off his financial prowess. My mother was several rungs above John in terms of physical attraction. She was blonde hair blue eyes and and a lovely tan. John was googly-eyed with a big nose who walked around with long socks and garters with shorts and a button up shirt.

                  Not too long after plans are being made and my sister my mother and I moved in with John. My father Brian I have become extremely reluctant to pay maintenance since my mother had moved in with John. It was his opinion that John should be paying for our welfare and not himself.

                  We were still seeing my father during every second weekend or thereabouts. John hated the competition and set about to undermine and ambush the relationship between my sister and I our father Brian. He bought a caravan and a speedboat and we started caravanning. Caravanning and South Africa is glorious back in the 80s.

                  This was an absolute lottery for me, water-skiing, going and staying in a beautiful caravan parks even angling in the sea. It was a great excitement to go on an adventure! Up until now I have no recollection of going on a holiday and this to me was a weekend holiday.

                  Zinkwazi caravan park what is an absolute gem. We could take the speedboat and ski on the estuary and we could go to the beach. There was a ferry that used to transfer as from the caravan park to the beach every 30 minutes. That caravan park itself had a wonderful trampoline and a swimming pool and a coin operated video games room. The whole caravan parkwas kept in immaculate condition.

                  John and Ivy whipped my sister and I into a frenzy of excitement with news that we were going to Zinkwazi caravan park on the weekend! The weather was fantastic it was summer and bloody hot. The idea of spending the weekend on the beach and water-skiing in the sweltering hot and humid weather was very exciting indeed.

                  The caravan was packed it was hitched up to the car and we were ready to go on a weekend holiday. What they had not told us is that this particular weekend had been agreed between my mum and John that Brian had access for my sister and I to spend the weekend with him. Brian turned up expecting to take my sister and I with him for the weekend.

                  The question was put to us what do we want to do? Did we want to go with them to Zinkwazi caravan park or spend the weekend with Brian. I was about 8 years old and the thought of going to this beautiful caravan park exceeded the thought of spending it with Brian so I said that I rather go to the caravan park and so did my sister. I think Brian felt rejected by my sister and I, but the truth is we have been manipulated by John and Ivy their plan worked and absolute treat to burn Brian.



                    DJW facinating - I'm glad you get something out of recalling and writing this down, I await Part 4
                    Husband Albert diagnosed PMA Feb 21


                      Zinkwazi part 4

                      The drive to Zinkwazi was about 2 hours or so, it was hot and having the window open didn't really cool you down. We arrived at the caravan park checked in got the caravan in position and all the other boring things associated.

                      The sun was still hot and weather humid. My sister and I were gagging to get into the ocean to cool down while John was all to eager to see the back of us so that he may get his reward from between Ivy's thighs. We grabbed our towels and costumes and ran as quickly as a little legs could carry us down to the pier to catch the small ferry to the beach.

                      The ferry was an open rectangular in shape constructed of fibreglass white on the inside and orange on the outside. It had benches to sit on and and a small all 30 horsepower with an arm and throttle connected to the motor. The pilot was a slender man of Indian origin. He had jet black hair and thin moustache, skin was the colour of mahogany. He donned a khaki shorts and buttoned short sleeve shirt topped off with socks to his knees and leather shoes.

                      My sister and I could barely contain ourselves and the wait to get to the beach seem to be eternal. Eventually the time came and the pilot pulled on the rip cord. The small 30 horsepower engine spluttered into life. The smell of the 2-stroke oil and the emissions of the little engine was to me very provocative and gave me a sense of excitement and elation.

                      We were proceeding to the beach, I used to love letting my hand touch the water and feel the silky smooth of the water running between my fingers. There was no pier on the sand bank at the beach end of the estuary. The pilot accelerated the ferry and the little boat mount the sandbank.

                      My sister and I disembarked and sprinted over the sandbank, the sound and smell that the reward of the ocean promised was palpable. The ocean came into view spreading as far as the eye could see from the left to the right of majestic soft sand beaches devoid of any other people.

                      This vision of beauty incorporated sharp crops of black angular rocks peppered with barnacles standing eternally in defiance against the relentless smashing and bashing of the waves. Areas of easy to access the water interspersed between the rocks is where my sister aged 10 and I aged 8 entered the ocean.

                      We were giddy and seeked the refreshing water, daring fate we swam out in the breakers. Before we knew it we where in a riptide and suck out to sea. Our only option was to swim against the riptide because in front of us were the menacing rocks dangerously tempting us as a means to exit the ocean but payment was life.

                      I swam until my energy tank was empty, I was so tired I wanted to both throw up and throw the towel in. I could not swim any further, my sister implored me not to give up. I ask God desperately to spare me and give me strength.

                      Eventually I did manage to swim across the rip though perilously close to the rocks and back to where we entered the ocean. I could barely walk and collapsed on the sand. I had tears in my eyes and sea water in my belly.

                      That my dear friends is the first time I could confirm that "ask and you shall receive" held true meaning to me.

                      Last edited by DJW; 9 March 2021, 15:14.


                        Suefromwakey thank you, this feels like I and climbing of my cross and using the wood to make a bridge.



                          A part of me can't wait to die..... What in the hell is going in the world? Violence seems to be the norm across the globe. Facemasks, social distance and vacations.... UFO's sightings from the USA army... China threatening Australia with missile attacks.... Israel committing crime of apartheid.... here in the London gun and knife crime at its highest level ever..... Russian submarines patrols the UK and closest relationship with China.... Has Covid fundimentaly altered something in our brains and turned is into a bunch of thugs? STOP the bus, I want to get off!

                          Is MND my blessing?


                            DJW dont start me on this and don't forget WOKE! what on earth is that all about!
                            Husband Albert diagnosed PMA Feb 21


                              As in I woke this morning and realised that in fact I was the cleaner with a mop handle and not the doctor giving me a prostate exam...


                                Very funny.....sure you'd notice the difference
                                Husband Albert diagnosed PMA Feb 21