I can remember the first and the last time I ever went in there: the first as an 8-year-old kid and the second as a 22-year-old man gaffer-taped to a wheelie chair.
I grew up in a family of smokers who smoked in between smokes. My mum was the lesser of the these: she only smoked Superkings and bought them in packs of twenty at the local shop. When she couldn’t get Superkings, she would smoke other brands but the fact that she needed to get them from the shop did at least mean she didn’t smoke constantly.
When I was growing up, I had a lot of ‘Uncles’. Now, I’m not saying my mum slept around: she didn’t (as far as I know), but our house was always full of people who liked to drink….often at the expense of a new suit. I’m not blaming them: I like to drink, too….but I tend to stop if I begin to fill my trousers before I can get to the toilet.
“Ah, young Mr Stone – do come in.”
“You look good.”
“Thanks! I feel great!”
“Indeed. Do take a seat. Now….um…..your mother tells me you’ve lost six stone in two months?”
When I finally decided that my dog had some sort of mental health issue, I didn’t mess around. I immediately splashed the cash and called in the professional: a £50 per day dog whisperer called Anita who lived on the borders of Kent and claimed to offer a life-changing service for pets AND their owners. This is the email I sent her…
I’ve only been at Costa for ten minutes, and I’m just about to write a really scathing attack on a well-known supermarket when I suddenly overhear: “So, you wait until we’ve got four kids before you decide it’s her you want and not me.” I don’t turn around. I sit back in my chair, very slowly, and…
The regression therapist leans across the couch, looks at me and says: ‘So let me get this straight, David, you’re ten years old and there’s this girl you really like…but she doesn’t like you because you don’t have the right BMX bike.’
‘Okay….so, despite the fact that you were – by your own admission – awkward, didn’t like making eye contact, regularly ran away from girls, often wet yourself at school and occasionally even fainted in front of them, it was definitely the BIKE she didn’t like.’
I glare at him. ‘Are you saying it WASN’T the bike?’
Life can be like driving a very fast car in difficult conditions…and the bumps and scrapes can damage both you and the people around you. Between 1997 and 2016, I wrote twenty eight books and two short stories for a bunch of the biggest publishing companies in the world. This journey transformed me in many…
If I had to pick a single image, logo or icon to represent me, I’m pretty sure that it would end up being this one!
My worst school memory was the day I first felt really different to other kids. The teacher asked a question that probably wouldn’t be asked these days: she asked what everyone’s dad did for a living. I didn’t have a dad but not everyone in the class knew that and so, as the answers were given and it came closer and closer to my turn, I got more and more anxious about whether or not to lie and just say he was a fireman or a policeman or something the other kids would be impressed by. In fact, I needn’t have worried: I wet myself before my turn – probably out of sheer panic – so I ended up embarrassed for a completely different reason.