Losing it!

Even I lose it now and then, tis true. Despite the fact that I am, although some would protest to the contrary, calmer now than I used to be (in most situations), I lost it last night. And it has affected me all day: it will no doubt continue to have an unwelcome slant on proceedings this evening - which is a bit of a bugger, given that I have to undergo the metamorphosis from Landlady to Quiz Mistress by 8pm. Obviously this is not similar to the change a butterfly undergoes: whereas they unfurl their beautiful wings and fly, I just like to be switched on, focussed and a bit witty, to make sure the quizzers have a good night. I wouldn't have minded so much, but my losing it was sudden! One minute I was calmly working away in my office, after we had closed. Just attending to things that are a little mundane, but necessary, to ensure the smooth running of both our Breakfast and Lunch service, preparations for the coming week (which did require my concentration as we have a lot of varied events and entertainment on offer) and in an attempt to secure a little time off for myself at some point (forward planning IS the way forward). During this, all it took was a quick glance at the clock on my laptop and as a result, I lost it!

A whole frickin' hour! Gone. Just like that. (As the late, great Tommy Cooper would've said.) I had looked at the same clock at five minutes to two (which is late enough by most people's standards, seeing as I was still working and with a Breakfast shift to be up for). But in the space of what was actually half an hour, my 'don't worry about that whole British Summer Time thing, love, I update myself' bloody-laptop-clock had propelled me forward in time to three-twenty five! With not so much of a wiff of Marty McFly or the Doc! I wasn't impressed. So, having lost an hour, I also kinda lost the plot too. Chuntering away to myself (everyone else had, quite sensibly, buggered off to bed), bemoaning Einstein, (a go-go. Hands up anyone who remembers that song), and the manifest short-comings of his, albeit bastardised, theory of relativity. Yes, time IS relative: yes, it passes with increased rapidity if a person is having a good time, and more slowly when a person is bored. The fact that time had pretty much leapt forward, unknowingly dragging me with it as I worked, would suggest that find working very, very, very enjoyable!

I continued to lament Albert, his theory, time, and the unknown jerk who saw fit to mess with everyone's sleep patterns and shorten the day in order to announce the arrival of summer. (Said jerk aside, today has been more spring like, sunny and temperate - which is very welcomed after all that Beast from the East crap). Now only having the possibility of four hours kip before getting up to start work again I continued to moan, aloud, and to myself. I don't get much sleep, so every minute, (never mind a whole bloody hour) that I miss spending in slumber is, obviously, going to annoy me somewhat! As I cleared my desk and switched off my laptop, my 'colourful metaphor' laden laments, again heard only (and given the profanity, it's probably a good thing it was so) by myself, continued.

It now being bedtime for sure, I decided on a different course of action and had a word with myself (literally - and again out loud). I told myself to calm down. I patiently explained to myself, it would take even longer to get to sleep if my feathers were ruffled. Being in a mood is hardly ever the prologue to a restful night's sleep. I was quite blunt. I called myself a few things that are not repeatable here, although I did, eventually apologise to myself. Having those few words with myself (in the absence of my family - who would have readily done it, because they care about me) I was a little less annoyed. I conceded that I was right. I blamed myself. After all, I knew the clocks were going forward. Of course, I should have gone to bed when everyone else did. So, as it was off to Bedfordshire time, I carried out the necessary preparations and having eventually climbed in, fluffed my pillows, wrapped myself in my duvet and stretched my tired limbs, it was 4.15 am BST. However, my brain was still in overdrive and I was (Sods Law Time) wide bloody awake, so I reached for the TV remote.

I should explain that whilst I am fully aware of the various negative warnings that are bandied about by a multitude of sleep therapists with regard to watching TV, using mobiles or laptops etc., prior to attempting sleep, I would bet my pub, that they didn't consider the odd lifestyle of those who work in hospitality (or anyone else whose work requires similarly long and unsociable hours). For me TV serves several purposes. It relaxes my mind, coaxing it away from the multitude of thoughts that fly around in it. Those thoughts that often stop me sleeping. (But, I do arguably, have some of my better ideas at night, in fact a high percentage of the more 'out-there' events that have found their way into The Leopard diary are the result of such nocturnal, anti-sleep, diversionary, thoughts.) Given the 'white noise' (and not so 'white' noise) that is a constant backdrop to my days and nights (cooler fans, jukebox, chatter, laughter, the humming of fridges, clatter of pots, singing, live music, clinking of glasses etc.,) silence, for me, is not golden. Nor is it something I am comfortable with. Ergo, I find the sound of silence unsettling (not the song, I love Disturbed's cover and am more than a little bit fond of David Draimen) and the sound of the TV counteracts this uneasiness. Some people drink to 'unwind', I watch, or listen to, TV.

So, having nestled comfortably in my bed, remote in hand, I flicked onto catch up and began searching for 'Ant & Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway', quite eagerly, as I knew that fifteen or so minutes of that would sooth my thoughts and eventually 'rock' me to sleep. I also happen to enjoy the programme (though I usually end up having to 'catch up' again as I do fall asleep before I have watched it all), and I am a bit of a fan of Ant and Dec. Well, I don't think there are many people that don't appreciate the Geordie lads, is there?. They are, after all our 'Nation's Favourites' and like many I watched them take their first, tentative steps into acting in Byker Grove all those years ago, got ready to rumble when they tried their hands at a musical career and have stuck with them through I'm a Celebrity (even though 'Celebrity' is something of a misnomer and the eating challenges make me physically sick), Britain's Got Talent (despite Simon Cowell often being a twat to the contestants, albeit a clever, successful and rich twat) and then Takeaway. Anyhoo, long story short (for a change) having lost time and patience, I had, it seemed, now lost Ant and Dec too!

The show was cancelled due to Ant's drink-drive accident. And, OMG, haven't the papers and folks on social media loved taking the moral high ground about it? I too clambered onto that high ground, but my climbing boots didn't leave muddy footprints all over Ant, his private life or his career. I am quite proud of the fact that I have never (that's right - NEVER) driven any vehicle having had a drink. (And I've been driving since I was seventeen - so that's quite some achievement.) If, and when, I was driving it was soft drinks all the way. All night. Always. (You see, when I was 18 I saw a young guy, a biker, not much older than me, die. In agony, on the road, at night, as the result of a drunk driver. That affected me. Deeply. After that, there was no way that my enjoying a drink or two was ever going be the reason that someone's son, daughter, mum or dad, would have their life abruptly squashed out of them.) Whilst my sense of pride held me on that high ground for a few moments, as I read the comments on Social Media, mainly berating Ant, his drinking and his obvious 'where with all to afford a taxi,' I got to thinking.

I wondered just how many of these journalists and Social Media commentors could honestly say they had always been completely alcohol free when they drove? (Or free from the influence of drugs - prescription or otherwise for that matter too.) Moreover, I wondered how many could say, hand on heart, that they had never been a passenger in a car driven by a someone who they knew had taken a few drinks? Pride comes before a fall, and I fell from the high ground as I realised that I couldn't claim that either. Not that I have ever got into a car, or on a bike, with someone who was drunk - but I have done so with people who had been drinking. I refuse to believe I am the only one guilt of 'drink driving by association', so, surely there were double standards unwittingly woven into the reports and comments regarding Ant? As a responsible landlady I have taken car keys from customers to prevent them driving and I have refused to serve people who were 'worse for wear' regardless of their mode of transport .(Not because it's the law, not because I am a kill joy, but because I would hate for them to be hurt, hurt others or become ill because I had continued to serve them, when they had already had 'enough'.) Yet, I have, on occasion, got in a car with someone who had been drinking, without really considering the potential danger to the driver, other road users or even myself. The irony of this was not lost on me, neither is the shame of it. Both were however, I believe, lost on a large proportion of those people who made their damning comments and reports public via social media and the newspapers.

I then thought - where the hell were the people who supposedly care about Ant, on whatever level - his fans, friends and family? Where was the advisory 'I think you've had enough, Ant' landlady warning? Where was the fan's cautionary 'Ant, do you think driving is a good idea?' What about his 'team' (production, publicists etc.) where the bloody hell were they? Where too were his doctors? All absent? Whatever the reasons as to why no-one managed to stop him, tried to intervene, help him or prevent him driving, the sadness of the situation it is clear. Here is a man who has struggled with depression, had marital problems, is addicted to both prescription drugs and alcohol, and yet it seems, no-one actually thought to themselves,'this guy has had a drink and shouldn't be driving? Really??? No one was there for Ant, despite the world knowing about all of his problems and addictions? That shows that money doesn't always talk (or help). That also illustrates that as much as society adores the ideology of 'Fame', it doesn't actually give a flying f*ck about the person behind the fame (and let's not forget that Ant is a REAL human being!) Doesn't that reflect poorly on the medical professionals he has paid to help him and on those supposedly closest to him (whether on the pay-roll or not)? That also speaks volumes about the reporters who have relished snatching away the very pedestal they put Ant on. As for those who joined in with the barrage of negative comments on Social Media, arguably many were, prior to this incident, 'fans' (in whatever measure) of both Ant and Dec. Yet from behind their keyboards these 'fans' took things from 'The Nations Favourite Entertainers' to 'Kick a man when he's down' - oh how opinions changed as everyone clamoured for that high ground, post likes and increased newspaper sales.

I am not condoning what happened. I truly feel for those who were involved in the accident and wish them all a speedy recovery. It is fortuitous, for ALL involved, that no-one was killed. The fact remains that Ant drove whilst over the limit, he should be punished for that as it is against the law. But he should not be made an example of because he is 'famous'. Nor should 'love' have turned to 'hate'. In court, both sides of the case are given due consideration, mitigating circumstances are taken into account. Isn't it a pity that those practices are not employed by journalists & the so-called keyboard 'warriors' on Social Media? It is such a shame that so many have berated Ant 'after the fact', particularly as the facts were common knowledge. Ant's problems filled many column inches and posts alike, and his reaching out for help (albeit unsuccessfully, sadly) was equally well publicised. If you strip away the fame, that fuelled the reports and comments, you are left with a man who obviously didn't receive the help he bravely asked for and obviously needed. Hats off to the minority who attempted to understand rather than simply subscribing to the gossip!

Prevention IS better than cure.

There is a huge difference between knowing the path and walking the path. At some point in our lives we will all need, or have already needed, someone to hold our hand and show us the way, or at least lend us a map, as we walk our own very distinct and individual paths. Sadly, for Ant, there was no hand, there was no guidance, there was certainly no intervention and there was no map. And left to his own devices he has lost, not only his direction on that path, very publically, but pretty much everything else too. Largely due to a complete oversight with regard to prevention, in favour of a huge dollop of cure. Then there is the added stress largely bought about by people having taken a public and 'more holy than they actually are' stance on the whole thing.

People in glass houses and all that.

Consider, for a moment all the well meaning 'share this post to show awareness of mental health issues' on Social Media, the addicts bravely recounting their struggles in countless newspapers & magazines with a view to giving much needed hope to others addicts. The repeated and clear messages to seek help, whatever the problem, together with an assurance that not only is help readily available, but so too is understanding. Don't you think 'Antgate' has undone much of this good work, undermined the confidence of those suffering, whilst clearly demonstrating that support and understanding is not actually as available as people thought it was?

What worries me now is the well-being of those who have little money and no fame, but who are struggling on their path for whatever reason, right now. What kind of message does all this lack of understanding and quickness to judge, give to them? The school girl who seeks comfort in vodka due to the stress of exams? The mother trying to cope with mental health issues and still be a good parent? The son who has become addicted to his prescription drugs. In the wake of the public condemnation of Ant, no doubt these people are now more scared, confused and are resisting the urge to reach out for the help, than they were before. And who can blame them - because if a 'Nations favourite' receives neither help or understanding, and is publically flogged with whipping words, what will people say about an 'ordinary' school girl, mother or son?

I think we have lost so much more than that hour this week - don't you?