An Everyday Warrior, Chapter One.

Chapter One

First came the rat. It was a big black, horrible bastard that just jumped out of the wall and ran at me. Julie woke up with a fright as to her horror, I screamed at her to get rid of it, but again she couldn’t see what I could see as there was nothing to see. It was all in my head.

“Simon, there isn’t anything there. Go to sleep, please,” she pleaded. I couldn’t or wouldn’t as I calmed down and watched in fascination as the rat turned into a cat. The crafty bastard wasn’t enough for me though and I pounced on it, wrapping it in the bedsheets. I then took off running and threw the bundle down the stairs. It proved it was too clever for me though and instead of hitting the ground hard and injuring itself, it simply turned into a cardboard cut-out upon landing, then waved its tail in the air and ran away.

I returned to bed, triumphant, knowing I had at least got rid of it. Julie in the meantime, had turned her back on me and was trying to sleep but I don’t think she managed to it though, as the night got more interesting, frightening and downright weird.

I tried to sleep as well but couldn’t as I became fascinated again as I watched from our window. The people who had set up the chimneys were back, only this time they had a huge inflatable climbing wall and were erecting it in the hospital car park opposite our house.

It was incredible to see this hundred-foot apparatus, shaped both as a wall and at the same time a giant robot, being pushed and pulled into position. The whole thing was in silence, but I could somehow hear the noises they were making as they started up the massive generators to keep the thing upright. The problem was the workmen were shoddy and not doing their job properly, instead wasting their time turning to wave to me.

I pulled my head from the window so they couldn’t see me but complained about them. “They are doing that all wrong,” I muttered to myself. “They haven’t tied it down properly and it’s going to fall.”

Still, I watched as the fairground returned and came back to life, but as I enjoyed seeing the rides spin around, a sudden exhaustion swept through me. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and drifted into a merciful sleep, only to be woken sometime later by a party going on in our bedroom.

Furious, I shouted at Julie, thinking that she had invited the staff from the local pub back to our house. I could see them all sitting in our room, sharing drinks and laughing out loud. I was even more furious when my fourteen-year-old daughter Luka, laughed at me and called me ‘an old stuff’ for complaining about them. She was always such a good girl and never back chatted or was cheeky. I had no idea what had got into her, but I was adamant that her actions were out of order. In response to my complaining, she hurled my iPod at me telling me to go back to sleep.

Except of course, she wasn’t even there; she was tucked up safe in her own room. In fact, there was nobody there but Julie, but I then got it into my head that Luka had snuck some boys in there and so furiously, I barged into her room demanding to know their whereabouts.

Luka jumped out of her bed and rushed toward me, very concerned. “What is it, Dad? What's the matter?” she asked starting to cry.

"Where are the boys you have in here? Where are they hiding?" I demanded.

She shook her head. "There isn’t any dad. Really. Please, go back to bed, you aren't well." I briefly came to my senses as I realised that she was indeed all alone, but the glimpse at reality was just that, a glimpse. I became convinced that they had made their escape and I thought I was right, as when I looked out of the window, I saw them waiting at a bus stop. Strangely, it had started snowing and although, again, the whole scene was in silence I could on some level hear the drone of the snowplow's engine as it cleared the way for the ambulance following it, lights flashing. Again, the reality of it was that there was no snow and there certainly wasn't a snow plough.

The night must have been a nightmare for Julie as I slipped in and out of sleep. The following morning was no better as my hallucinations continued. I became convinced that it was my birthday, and a surprise party was being held. I waited upstairs as I heard the people downstairs bringing my presents. Julie’s dad and brother were there with a brand-new mountain bike for me. I didn’t want them to see me watching them, so hopped back in bed, where I proceeded to have a conversation with my sister, who was of course, quite reasonably, the light shade.

I interrupted the 'conversation' by telling her to be quiet, as I could hear the partygoers making their way up the stairs to my room. I was right of course, people were indeed coming up the stairs, but it just wasn’t who I thought it would be.

As I opened the door to meet them, I was greeted with the sight of seven heavily built police officers; this wasn’t in the script.

“Simon,” one of them said, “how are you? What’s going on?” This made no sense to me at all until I had a lightbulb moment.

“What do you mean, what’s going on? What are you doing here? Is there a problem? Is this to do with the German people?”

Even though there was madness going on in my head, I was having moments of clarity and I thought that the officers were there as a follow up call to the dealings I had had some months previously with the police and a group of people from Germany.

However, this was not a followup call to that incident and I was taken completely by surprise when they confirmed they were here because of me.

“No Simon, I’m not sure what you mean about any German people, but we are here to see you and nobody else. Listen mate, have you been drinking too much?” he asked. There was no patronising attitude or judgment in his voice, just concern.

“No, not at all. In fact, I stopped drinking completely yesterday,” I offered. “Who called you anyway? I have done nothing wrong.”

His answer broke my heart. “Nobody is saying you have done anything wrong, Simon, but it was Julie. Julie called us.”

I wouldn’t have it. “No. No, not at all. Julie would never call the police on me. Where is she? I want to see her now.”

He put his hands up to placate me. “Now, now, Simon, calm down. She’s worried about you. Look, you are shaking and look what you have done to your room.”

I turned to our bedroom, and it looked like a bomb had hit it. Bed sheets were everywhere, clothes were all over the floor and lamps knocked over. I sat down, suddenly so exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Listen mate, why don’t we get you over to the hospital? They can check you out,” he said gently.

I shook my head. “No, I’m okay. I just want to be with Julie.”

“I’m sorry mate. She doesn’t want you here at the moment. She is worried sick about you. Take a walk with us. Come on, the hospital is only across the road. They can help you.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, already seeing the answer in his eyes.

“Well, let’s not go down that road. Let’s see what we can get done at the hospital. Come on.” He told me to put my shoes on but when it came to tying the laces, my hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t do them up. In a real act of kindness, the officer bent down and tied them for me before helping me up and holding a bottle of water to my mouth for me to drink.

I made one last attempt to see Julie, but they steered me past her, keeping me well away. Even as I left the house, my mind played more tricks. Suddenly, I couldn't find my way to the door as our current house had been replaced by one we had lived in some years before. I was completely disorientated and so the policeman put his hand on my shoulder and guided me to his car. So, on a cold wet Thursday morning, when I thought I was going to a party, I was escorted out of my house by seven police officers, in three marked police cars and taken to hospital. I was told afterwards that the reason for the big police presence, the ‘overkill’, was because they were aware of my Martial Arts background (they had been tipped off by a fellow officer who knew me) and they feared the worst, or they certainly prepared themselves for it. Who could blame them?

However, I wasn't going to give them any trouble. I was too tired, too confused, and too sad to do anything other than what I was told. I felt only shame and sorrow as I sat in the back of the police car. Simon Morrell, leading Karateka, author, father and husband; now a beaten man, a forty-four-year-old, hopeless drunk. It had taken a lot to beat me, but finally it had. This is how it happened...

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