Tag Archives: Tap Tap. Writing. Friends. Truth. Integrity.


Heed the Danger

Heed the Danger


I knew a man who was subject to a betrayal. His actions were the driving force behind the situation. For decades the betrayal ruined the lives of every human who came into contact with him. I knew him as a dangerous man. It is a fact those who crossed him do not to how close they came to disaster. A real disaster, violent and vengeful. He told me once he planned to use a crossbow to settle a long-lasting feud. No doubt in my mind someone was close to death. Later I asked him if he still considered murder ‘I have rehearsed the killing. Even to the extent of aiming the bow at the accused. The fact I can kill the guilty is enough for the time being’. No doubt the answer held empirical truth.

Time passed: he became older than his years: at thirty totally grey. The lines on his face deep crevasses of inner pain. No love in his heart and malice in actions. A spiritual human would say ‘Everyone has love in their heart.’ My friend disproved this; he had no feelings or concern for the plight of any human. Those who knew him found him a highly intelligent, his reasoning abilities profound in capacity. Maybe the void where conscience once existed became full of intellectual ability. I have never met a human who could sift through a problem as this man.

He was not as wealthy as he should have been. His capacity to earn and spend two ends of a seesaw. Later in life, he became wealthy, goodness knows how rich he could have been if he’d followed the path of money. He owned a secondhand items shop. Many believed he thrived on stolen property; they were wrong, he detested thieves. In fact, he was the most honest of men. I asked him to lie for me and he asked me to leave his company. Two years passed before we spoke again. My favour sullied our friendship, he told me so, and I cried.

One evening he beat two boys who tried to rob him as he left the bar. I write boys; they were seventeen. One came close to death, the other stayed silent, he knew my friend was a cruel man. I think the boys lived in fear until he died. Their drug habit drove them to the assault. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew the story. Everyone in the neighbourhood still chooses to forget it.

I visited him every day in the hospital. Never could there be a braver man. ‘Just keep me comfortable, I refuse all treatment’ his only comment to the consultant. After he died, his body was taken to the mortuary and cremated the following day. The ashes disposed of in the way he’d decided.

The solicitor’s office is clean and old. Across the table is a good-looking woman, about thirty, blond hair. ‘He has left you everything: the instructions are straightforward: you must sell the property and goods and use the money as you wish.’

The sale of the shop’s contents made 107 thousand: the property 320. I found a duffle bag full of cash (37 thousand) and eleven prestige watches. In two bank accounts the total 111 thousand. A life policy 100 more, goodness knows why he had a life policy. 638 thousand: over 500 after death duties.

She did not look like her father. Claiming to be sorry not to have seen him before he died. There was no mention of money. After the woman left my home, I looked out over the sea. The waves were vitriolic as if his spirit had whipped them into a scathing anger. The daughter spoke of his early life and the betrayal. I hated her for the cold explanation. Looking through her eyes, I knew she’d inherited my friend’s cutthroat persona.

The sea has raged for over a week; he is not settled even in death. On her journey home, the girl skidded on the coast road, she drowned. I heard her mother was brokenhearted. Knowing the story of the betrayal, I know my friend now has his revenge.

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Take It

Write It - Take It

Write It – Take It

Some years ago I scripted a one hour talk on barefoot walking. It proved to be popular; so much so, people sometimes say ‘Ian, I remember the ‘barefoot talk.’ I remember it for a different reason. A friend sent me an e-mail. ‘Have you read the article in XYZ magazine? The writer has recorded your talk. The article is so close in content, it must be yours.’  I read the article, and indeed the writer had used my speech as the basis of the article. My reply was simple ‘I have no concern, let people take what they like. The fact is, when using another man’s ideas, the inner-being and conscience recognise the theft. From my point of view, the plagerist is like an artist singing a cover song; the tribute never comes close to the original.

I am rewriting my book ‘Never Let Anything Worry You’ and until it is published no information about the changes will be available. Never have I been more careful with my work, the book will represent two years of research. Re-listening to hundreds of hours of interviews, notes and short videos will make the book the best I have written. For the first time, the decision to Fort Knox the copyright is made. Every sentence and paragraph will be protected, and those who steal my work will pay for their error. Plagiarism software is so efficient; tracking intellectual theft is no problem. Only fools take another writer’s work these days.

After the first draft and proofreading, the book is A4 printed and posted to three individuals for approval. They will be asked to read the book and circle any paragraphs which cannot be understood. When the copies return all comments, notes and criticism will be addressed, and the book will have its final rework, and it will be published. My assessors are trusted friends, who will provide accurate appraisals of the book.

Real friends balance their heart (emotion) and mind (intellect) and will not place feelings before their wise council. When asked for an opinion, my appraiser’s can be confident they will give a fair assessments. I do not underestimate the task, and I recognise the immense cost of the time given to it. I have placed them in an awkward situation, as many paragraphs and essays will question, beliefs, options and ideal’s which are close to their heart. One of my friends may feel concern for the criticism of his profession, although he is already aware of my opinion. The trio are exceptional individuals; they will understand what I am asking of them. I am not seeking criticism or argument, my need if for them to assess if the sections are understandable and coherent.

Very few people can mentally digest information which is opposed to opinion. Most people see the smaller picture and fail to enjoy the landscape. It is rare for an individual to talk about both sides of an issue without demonstrating a bias toward the one aspect which ‘proves’ their opinion. Artists and creatives have to see the whole picture; a man cannot be a writer if he cannot join all aspects of a story, his character should experience difficult times, maybe abuse or betrayal before the love story ends in happiness. An artist can paint a dark storm or depict heaven within a summers day. The composer evoke’s feelings of sadness and elation. The friends who will assess my book are creative intellectuals, emotional intelligence is the summit of reason.

Although their emotional intelligence is exceptional, they possess the greatest of assets. It cannot be faked or disguised, it is integrity, and within this word is another… trust. I know they can be trusted without question, there is no compromise, their integrity is sabre sharp, there is no fear of truth. Another friend, Francis once commented: ‘truth inflicts emotionally damaging wounds’ he is right. Our inner strength has to be tungsten hard to accept many facts and truths. I have no concern for the individual who stole my talk and put their name to my hours of research, writing of scripts and rehearsing my presentation. The fact is, one friend, recognised the plagiarism and although another signature ended the essay, my name is within every word of the published article.