I woke up on Xmas day on,y to find that someone had sneaked into Mercuryvapour Towers during the night, and poured molten lava directly into my trachea, which means when I finally woke up, I had a pair of lungs that were on fire with every breath. Well, that is, if I could get a decent breath in between the coughing.

So, the whole day was spent, moping around the house, feling sorry for myself. There were good parts to it, however. As Daddykins was having dinner somewhere else, he got me a lovely piece of pork, which I demolished. I didn’t watch much telly, just caught up on a few things, and by something like 10PM, I was in bed, after only managing 1 can of lager. I must have been ill.

I fell asleep, knowing that things were only going to get worse. Indeed it did. I remember some pretty crazy dreams ‘n’ shit

I awoke, still coughing like a maniac, but this time part of my inner ear had been removed, as I could barely stand up straight. Everything hurt. I went for a piss. The afore-mentioned lava had now made its way out of my lungs, and was being drained out of my bladder.

Literally, the entire day was spent on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep, with only the coughing keeping me awake. The highlight of the day was the epic tea Daddykins cooked, which included his first liberal use of cayenne pepper. Delicious!

It’s now 3:25AM on the morning after Boxing day. Dare I say I’m feeling a bit better? Every so often though, I know my lungs are going to collapse into spasms, and I’m going to be rolling around the floor, coughing them up…

Anyway, Beastbits2 arrived the other day, and it has a great big blue LED power button which lights up the entire mercuryvapour.co.uk press office. It got me thinking about how much I hated blue LEDs, and it came to me is that one of the reasons is that they were so “fuzzy”, and so, here begind the email quote…

“I’ve never been able to see blue lights properly. If, for example I had to read three neon signs, one in red, one in green and one in blue, I would have to refocus my eyes in order to read the blue one. This, totally unintentionally, has just made me realise one of the reasons why I love mercury vapour lighting so much. New lamps, to me, always had a bluish-violet glow around them, especially against the night sky. This is, as I’ve just worked out, down to one of the few spectral peaks of mercury lamps being in the 400-450nm wavelength area, which appears blurred to me, but the rest of the lamp’s output appearing normal, therefore, new lamps would always have a pleasant, deep blue haze around them…. not so pleasant now that I realise it’s a vision defect!

It would also explain why I’ve never been able to take a satisfactory picture of a mercury vapour light the way I see them, and why I can instantly distinuigh this particular light source from similar technologies such as metal halide.

For the record, I wrote that a couple of days ago and Wayne hasn’t replied to the email. I guess it was THAT boring!

Then, at 5:50 PM on Monday 20th July after a phone call, a large vehicle made its way up to Mercuryvapour Towers.

It was then that my fears were over. It seems strange having him back. The living room has been so empty and quiet without his constant prescense. I can confirm that…. I HAVE MY LAPTOP BACK!

Oh, and Daddykins strolled through the door at approximately 6:20 PM.

I am happy to report, however, that he is recovering well.

You will have to realise that typing this is probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. If I word things incorrectly or inappropriately, I apologise. If I use my own style of ‘humorous content’ , again, this is my way of dealing with it. No amount of years ‘blogging’ could have prepared me for what I’m about to say. It will be rambling, it will be from my point of view.

So, at 3AM on Thursday, I was at work, just came back back from lunch. My mobile goes off, with “Dad” appearing on the screen”. This is not a good time for my dad to ring me, so I instantly knew something was wrong.

I answer.

“Jamie, get a taxi to Accident and Emergency… I’ve got something wrong with my ticker”

“Oh fuck”, I reply, unable to calculate the severity of the situation.

Something else was said. I didn’t take it in. The next thing was the sound of rustling, no response from Dad.

At this point, voices can be heard, alongside frantic activity. “Pulse… no pulse… anyone find a pulse”…

The phone hung up, or I hung up at this point. I can’t remember. I knew it was bad. I was beside myself, literally hysterical. Anyone else who happened to be on other people’s phone at the time would have thought that someone had died, and they’d be entirely right. My dad was “dead” at this point.

Separate from this, something just fell over on my desk just as I typed that last sentence. I’m not a one that believes in ghosts and shit like that, but that was weird

Either I received a call, or I managed to get through to someone who answered by dad’s mobile. The nurse acknowledged that my dad had a heart attack, he was critical, and I should get myself there as quickly as possible.

I was offered a lift by Paul, which I was in no position to refuse. My first priority was to get in touch with someone. I rang Chris. I have no recollection of the conversation except the fact that I’d somehow arranged with Paul to pick him up on the way to the hospital. How I got across to him where Chris actually lived remains a mystery.

The journey from work to Chris’s, then the hospital, was the worst time of my life. Not knowing exactly what was going on, a few brain-garbled sentences to go by, I didn’t know what was going to happen as I went through the door. A nurse was already waiting for me. I expected the worst.

I was taken to a little room. I’m not a big fan of TV Shows such as Casualty, but I recognised this room. It’s where you’re going to be told the worst. Blue carpet, orangey-peach wallpaper, plastic covered chairs alternating between turquoise and orange. Seconds later, one of the nurses who was treating my dad came out.

“We’re doing all we can to revive him”. I can’t remember what I asked, but the resulting answer was something like “until we all agree there’s no more we can do”.

I clung onto Chris. I felt pain like I have never felt before. I have heard the word “crushed” mentioned as an emotion before, but have never felt its true force until that moment.

At some point, I had tried to phone his fiancee, who I shall refer to from now on (for the sake of anonymity) as L. I wasn’t able to reach her. Nothing. Just a voicemail. I left a message which was probably indecipherable.

The next memory is a confused one. I remember being asked if I wanted to see him. At this point, I don’t think he was back round. Maybe he’d came around by then. I don’t know. I do remember someone saying that it may be more distressing for me to see him in this way. You can guarantee this wouldn’t be the case. Either way, I know he was back alive. The nurse advised me to look past the wires and the pipes. this, as a “geek” was easy, but obviously, everyone sees things differently. I saw my dad lying there. This was my first glimpse of him in this state. I took a look around. There were about 10 or 11 people stood around looking relaxed. I noticed he had his “funny trainers” on.

“Hiya Jame”, he uttered though his oxygen mask. He never calls me Jamie unless I’ve been naughty.

Choked with emotion, I just stuck a thumb up. Obviously, the relaxed people had a job to do, and I was directed to an office where I could gather my thoughts and at least begin to take stock of what just happened.

I was visited by certain members of the ‘crew’ for want of a better word. The main surgeon came in, and explained everything. I asked what the chances were. “50/50″ was his response. I think I laughed out loud at this point, as an image of Homer Simpson popped into my head saying “Oooh, I like those odds!” Funny how the brain works sometime.

Everything at this point was just a mush. I can’t put times to anything. I received a call on my mobile…

It was a bloke. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you’ve got the wrong number”… yup, the voicemail I’d left for L had fallen on “deaf” ears, thankfully. Any information given in that recording would be null and void anyway. It turned out, obviously, that the list of numbers I have for people was seriously out of date

I asked the nurse if I could have my dad’s mobile, which was duly given to me. Dad remained totally on form. Through his mask, he said “Sorry, I’m gonna pump”… *phhhrp*. I laughed hard, it was the first genuine light relief since this whole incident began. Or, in my dad’s case, it was “shite relief”.

He was to be transferred over to James (Jimmy) Cooks hospital in Middlesbrough. A few more staff came over and told me the procedure. about going in through his groin and opening up whatever needed to be opened. However, now that he was stabilized, it was a case of waiting for the ambulance to come and take him over there. I phoned ‘Tiggy’, one of my dad’s closest friends. I was hoping he would have a home number for L as the number I had turned out to be useless. He didn’t have a landline number, but he did have a different mobile number which was the same one in my dad’s phone. Tiggy took it upon himself to contact as many people as he could on my behalf to let them know the situation. Words can’t express how thankful I was for him doing that.

After trying to drown out the sound of someone being violently sick in one of the recovery bays, the ambulance arrived from Middlesbrough. He was more alert by this point, yet still totally dazed. He was more concerned about his car keys, and the fact his car was left in the ambulance bay. For you see, when he started feeling ill, he got in the CAR and DROVE to the hospital. No, really. There’s no doubt that this action saved his life. A minute after he’d got out of the car, he was on the trolley and technically dead.

The ambulance arrived, and he was wheeled quickly into the back of it. I couldn’t go with him for obvious resons. Ambulances aren’t exactly designed to carry passengers, and me being there would have been pointless anyway. Dad disappeared in the ambulance, with its blue lights blaring.

After tearfully thanking the staff for everything they’ve done, I begin to walk home with Chris. I have never felt so lonely in my life. I know I have used the word “lonely” a lot over the past few years. I realise now that it was without its true meaning. It was about 4:30 AM by this point. Can’t really remember the time. We left the hospital grounds and I froze on Holdforth Road. Not one other sole apart from us two were around. There was silence. Absolute, complete and utter silence. Apart from Chris, I was truly on my own, with not a clue what was going to happen.

I didn’t want to return home. It took me at least 30 minutes to walk home. For those who know the location of (sigh) “Mercuryvapour Towers”, you’ll know that this is a long time. I couldn’t go into the house. Obviously, I had no idea what I would expect, or how I would feel.

The house didn’t feel the same. It felt cold.

Chris stayed with me in this time. Everything upset me. Stupid things. Dad had brought me back a keyring from Scotland a year or two ago, and the faceplate had become unstuck. No less than 24 hours earlier, he said “Remind me on, I’ll glue that back on for you”. The keys, keyring and faceplace were laid out on the table, unstuck. He’d also opened some biscuits I had in the fridge, and had a couple of packets of crisps which I said he could have.

The next 2 hours or so was just a complete blur. I had to give it at least 2 hours before I called up Jimmy Cooks and checked how my dad was doing. This was when I closed on the website. It really wasn’t relevant any more, especially after the post I’d made previously. You may remember it. I’d whinged at how there’d been no holidays booked this year. If we’d have gone ahead with the holidays this year on the same date, look what would have happened. It became apparent that anything I’d written on the blog no longer had any relevance.

I eventually plucked up the courage to ring Jimmy Cooks. By the time I’d rang, he was just coming out of the operation, and was asked to give it another hour or so, just so he can be assessed.

Again, there was another hour of sitting around. Nothing much that could be done. It was just another hour of my life that will remain permanently blank. I went through my dad’s phone and contacted who I thought would be relevant. Most of them I woke up, but unfortunately it had to be done.

I rang Jimmy Cooks up, and they had news that things went well and he was recovering. There was still a 12 hour “critical” period, but he was recovering well, and they would accept visitors at any time. I cried again, hugging Chris to within an inch of his life.

Plans were arranged for Chris’s dad to pick up the car from outside the hospital. After this was done, Chris went home for a couple of hours and I was left truly on my own. I didn’t actually want to be in the house on my own. I wandered around outside, inspecting every inch of the front garden. As a neighbour left the house, I’d let them know what happened, that my dad had a heart attack, and giving them as much information as I could. All were shocked, and offered any help that they could. The times I did enter the house, I walked through the living room, to the kitchen and back again, repeating the process.

Chris came back up after a small amount of sleep, and found me doing the afore mentioned routine. I’d even switched the telly and the sky box on, yet had left it in the “main menu”, clearly taking no notice on what was happening on screen. He’s asked me how long it had been like that. I couldn’t give him an answer.

I was torn, and not good for anything, and this was clear. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. He arranged a taxi to pick us up and take us to Jimmy Cooks. It felt like the longest taxi ride in my entire life. It probably was.

After negotiating (badly) the maze of corridors and entrances, we eventually found the CCU (coronary care unit). Apparently, we’d walked right past it. The doctors were seeing my dad at the time, so we were shown to the “quiet room”. I think I called more people at this point just to give them an update.

We were shown into see my dad. From what had happened about 8 hours ago, the recovery was incredible. I believe it was still classed as “intensive care”, but he was fully awake, talking and cracking jokes with the nurses. He had to lay flat, due to the fact they had to insert a camera through his groin, and that obviously would take time to heal. Oh, and the presence of a drip which he kept setting off the alarm for by raising his left arm to do anything. He was also on oxygen via a nose pipe, though I guess this is normal.

They obviously kept having to do things to him, so Chris and I left for a quick trip into Middlesbrough itself in order to get a couple of things he might need such as a dressing gown, it simply became apparent that Middlesbrough somehow didn’t cater for the erm… “larger man”, unless I was just looking in the wrong place. He did, however, appreciate the grapes and bananas I bought him.

L was there by the time I’d got there, and all three of us had to put up with my dad’s sense of humour for a period of time. Normally, at this point, I’d say “Joy” sarcastically, but this time I really mean “joy”.

Day 1 ended at this point. L left a short while before me and Chris, yet, thanks to the bus having to be diverted, she probably got home long before us.

As soon as we got back to mine, there was just enough time to have a bath and change of clothes before we headed off to the club, with the main aim of giving everyone a verbal interpretation of what I’ve typed in the previous 2,222 words.

Chris returned to mine, and after a short time, I walked with him back to his house. The walk back from there, however, was awful, as the memories of the previous day came flooding back. At one point, I had to hold on to some nearby railings as I felt that my legs couldn’t hold the weight. This was probably exhausion, as I’d been awake at least 31 hours by that point.

Eventually, I made it home, by this point, it was 2AM and after failing to “get my shit together”, fell asleep on the couch. I’d set my alarm for 9.

11AM came, with my phone ringing. I’d totally slept through the alarm. Obviously, the ringtone is more important, seeing as it could have been the hospital phoning. Thankfully, it wasn’t. It was just someone wanting to find out the visiting hours.

The rain had been constant all night. IT was the heaviest constant rain I’ve seen for many years. This was no normal rain shower. I’d collected some belongings my dad wanted, such as his reading glasses and some tracksuit bottoms, seeing as my pyjama hunt has proved fruitless.

I made my way to the hospital alone, as Chris had done more than enough over the previous 38 hours. I did text him and tell him that the road was reopened, so my bus journey was a lot shorter than the one we’d taken the previous day.

I was lucky enough to get off one bus and straight onto another which would complete the journey to Jimmy Cooks. Unfortunately, I got off a stop too late, and ended up walking in the wrong direction, despite saying to myself “You know, I’m sure that’s the hospital back there…”

It was indeed, and this rain did not let up. I arrived at the CCU, soaked to the skin. I looked into the intensive care bay my dad was in yesterday, only to find it unoccupied. They had moved him out of the bay into a small ward. Obviously, this was a good sign.

Unfortunately, for my dad, where they had pummeled his chest in order to get his heart going again, they’d left a hell of a lot of bruising around that whole area, as you’d expect, and that the bruising was now starting to come through. This meant that although he was on the mend internally, the external pain was excruciating for him. Any slight movement, including beep breaths, had him wincing uncontrollably in pain. I had to keep thinking to myself “it’s better than him NOT having his chest compressed”. He was obviously given painkillers for it, but these didn’t help.

Despite the fact he’d only been in that ward a few hours, he was moved again to another ward in between receiving an x-ray to check to see if they’d cracked any ribs. His ribs were fine, they were just bruised. Apparently, the “little tablets” helped.

A doctor, who bore an absolutely stunning resemblance to Andy Bell out of Erasure, delivered the worst possible news to me. Daddykins has to eat more fish. And with him out of action, I’ll probably have to cook the fucker! And yes, chippy fish is totally, totally out of the question.

When the curtain was pulled back, Dad had visitors from two good friends, who also offered to give me a lift home. Unfortunately, thanks to the flooding on the A19, the diversion of dropping me off must have added at least half an hour to their journey

If you’ve made it this far without photographs, or skipping anything, I can only thank you. It is unlikely that I’ll update this with any further information in the very near future, as the “serious” part is over, and I’ll be cutting my computer time to the absolute bare minimum. I will still check my emails at webmaster[at]mercuryvapour.co.uk and reply to where relevant.

It’s not my usual “splot”, but I felt that what is on this website now holds very little relevance.

Anyway, onto the record itself. If “synthtastic” isn’t a word, it really should be. The backing track really could have been taken from an unreleased “One 2 Many” track, with the same synthy drums, bass and “trumpets”. The version I have is mostly instrumental, with different sections of xmas songs thrown in for good measure. Well, I say good measure, it all seems a little haphazard, not quite sure whether it wants to be a generic “pop” song, or an even more generic “xmas” number.

It’s not bad, but I doubt whether I’d give it a second glance, or second play, if it wasn’t One 2 Many related.

In other news, I did continue to trawl fkickr to see if I could find any more pictures of myself.

If you thought the sunburn was bad on the last one, take a look at this…

I blame the seasons, seeing as my intake of my “five-a-day” recently has been greater than it’s been in recent times.

Oh, and if you’ve been checking my facebook recently, you will know that I’ve lost my mobile. I have no idea where it is. Last night, I was in Horden with a few people from work, including Eddie, who left in August and I haven’t seen since. Anyway, after a bloody good night, I returned home, pretty drunk. The beer was “cheap”, and I was in the mood for a drink, seeing as I had the beginning of this cold coming on.

I awoke in the morning, looking for my phone, with it nowhere in sight. I looked everywhere.

This is where I began to panic. What happened to it? I tried to ring it, with no joy, as it had been “switched off”. This was either due to it being physically switched off, or the battery running low.

It was at that time I began to retrace my steps. Thanks to the webcam, I know that I returned home at 11:48… 14 minutes later, I’d updated my twitter via text, saying “White rabbit“. And that’s where the trace goes cold. Therefore, the mobile is more than likely in the front room somewhere, but can I hell find it. I’ve checked every conceivable place, and it’s simply not there.

Therefore, until further notice, my mobile’s out of action. This has been a service announcement on behalf of a drunk.

Right. Let’s try to move on to something more savoury. Spring is definitely on the way. It’s normally this time of year where I appreciate the fragrance of lilac trees (I await another Chad “sniffing something” comment) and the beauty of daffodils, but all of the lilac trees that were around here have been cut down, and there’s only one daffocil sprang into life in the front garden this year.

OK, I’m a little bit cheaty there, that was a photo I took last year. Hopefully, in the next few days, I’ll have better photos of the newly formed daffydil. Christ, I’m posting photos from last year, things must be desparate.

On Tuesday night, after another night at the club, and before knocking back a chinese takeaway from… er, that place in Church Street I can’t remember the name of, I commented to Daddykins that I may be going out early to take photos.

A quick look at my flickr profile shows that I’m a fan of taking sunrise pictures, and as there’s been a few mighty sunrises recently, I thought I’d go out and take one.

Now I’d woken up at exactly my planned time, 7AM. This gave me enough time to get my stuff together, and head out of the door for 7:20. The sky was just turning blue. There was a wisp of cloud in the sky, and the moon was still shining bright through the clouds. The sky had been clear, therefore the temperatures had plummeted through the night. There was a good covering of frost on the ground, and any small puddle which had formed, had now turned into solid ice.

Although I’d planned to walk somewhere, I actually had no idea where I wanted to go. I had no idea how long it would take for the sun to be in the sky fully. I guess it was a race against time to get somewhere high up. And, because Hartlepool slopes down towards the sea, the highest point is on the Hart Road, leading to Hart Village. I began to walk up the incline leading towards Hart Village.

A small horse seemed to take interest in what I was doing…

Part of the route to Hart Village leads along a section of old road. At some point, several years ago, a bypass was built, meaning that this old road had became unused. Because of this, the hedgerows either side of this road have became overgrown, and at that time on a morning, it’s a particularly creepy place.

That wasn’t the least of my worries, the black ice was. Imagine my horror, as I touched a portion of frozen water, and before I know it, I was on my back, looking up at the stars. I’d went down like a bag of spanners. It certainly wasn’t graceful. In fact, what made it even less graceful would have been the sight of me (successfully) trying to keep my camera off the ground. It does mean that my left side of my body managed to take the full force of it. My left hand is (slightly) grazed, and my left shoulder feels like it’s fallen off. In fact, typing this is difficult, but hell, I’ll fight through it for both of my readers.

So, anyway, after the slip, I continued the walk. In fact, the ice only affected me one more time as I crossed the road, known on Google Maps as “The Fens”. It is also the road where I have yet to see one car travel down.

It’s so quiet, it’s one of the few places in Hartlepool you can get a shot like this…

As can be seen by that photo, it was starting to get pretty light by this point. The redness in the trees suggested to me that the sunrise wasn’t far away, however, I still wasn’t in the ideal spot. Would I make it in time to the prime location to see the sun rise? Well, er… yes and no.

The prime location for me, is halfway along the Hart road. There’s an entrance to a field, giving great views over Hartlepool and Teesside. I was hoping to recreate this shot, but this was the best I could do.

Obviously, the sunrise wasn’t quite as explosive as I’d hoped. Still, it got me out of the house, and it (partially) burned off the chinese from the night before. And my shoulder injury will give me something to whinge at for a couple of days.

Ironically, I left the house at 7:20… no less than 10 minutes later, Chad had left a comment on my site, asking, as he usually does, if I was “getting out more”. What are the chances of this happening?

In other, totally uneventful news, I cancelled my Lovefilm account. I decided that £12.99 per month for DVDs I wasn’t really watching, wasn’t worth it, and so I cancelled. For those of you who have a lovefilm account, you can’t cancel them through the website, you have to phone them. This was more than annoying, seeing as one of the disks I’d sent them hadn’t been cleared off the system, despite the fact I’d sent two back in the same envelope. I’m the worst person on the telephone, which is a little bit disconcerting considering the job I do.

Two (count ‘em!) phone calls later, and my account was cleared without a problem. I would like to think I’ll miss using them. I probably won’t, but that’s nothing against the company. I have less interest in films and stuff than I did when I first joined them. Plus, the money is probably more important to me at this point.

Oh, and you know I lost my bank card a few months ago? I’ve just put my hand on the floor down the side of my chair, and there it was. Grrrr.