As you might be aware by now, I’m working on my last book. While doing so, I decided to look at some of my older scribbles. My style has changed somewhat over the years, and as such I’ve tried to improve on the originals.

So without further ado:

Solutions, 50yr special reserve edition.

One for the road, “I’ll have just one more”.
An excuse I’ve perfected to help numb my core.
Each dram is a promise to drown out the pain;
But deep down inside, I know it’s in vain.

I blame all the stress, all the weight on my shoulders,
On a long day’s work, crushing me like a boulder.
Yet truth be told, it’s an escape I’m seeking,
From the demons within, that I dare not speak of.

One for the road – I’ll forget the past.
And silence the voices; avoid their backblast.
I’ll raise up my glass, though it won’t make things right…
I know my excuses won’t bring back the light.

Words and Illustrations (c)BobChristian

I had a little free time before work today, so I scribbled a few lines.

To Mrs Bob

From darkest night, my love, fear not,
For I am here, your unwavering support.
No matter how rough the road may be,
I’ve got your back, forever, endlessly.

When nightmares haunt your peaceful sleep,
I’ll be there, my love, your solace to keep.
With arms wide open, I’ll chase them away,
For in your dreams, my love, I’ll always stay.

B.W.C

Words and images (c)BobChristian

Anniversary

Ten years, a decade.

3,652 days, 520 weeks or

87,600 hours that

We’ve shared together.

To the mayfly, it’s 

An endless eternity.

Yet the mere blink

Of mother nature’s eye.

“How long” should 

Never be the question. 

Instead it should be:

What have you done with it?

520, the number of times

We’ve danced along

The beach; the sea 

Washing our cares away.

39,000 would be the 

Number of lunch dates

On the phone, with food

And great conversation.

3,650 I love yous. 

One each day. Thought 

I’d tell you that it’s 

exponentially more.

(c)BobChristian

Greetings and Salutations, to one and all.

As some of you may know, I’ve always loved taking photographs. The camera phone, for me, was the greatest advancement in this field. It meant I didn’t need to worry about missing a random photo session.

Until recently, I’d not really shown any of them off other than to my family and friends… or just myself. A few of them have said I’ve “got a good eye”, which is really kind and a bit surprising to me. So I decided to start looking at it more seriously, experimenting with lenses like a macro, fisheye and a 13x, tripods and all sorts of other goodies.

So, here are a few examples of my work…

Recently, I sat down and put a few words together to express how I was feeling about things that were going on in my personal life, I sent this scribble to Mrs Bob and a couple of close friends, whose opinions on my work I’ve always valued and appreciated. I was honestly not ready for their response later that evening, as they blew me away by saying this…

“We love it, We want it read out at our send offs when we peg out.”

I was totally shocked by this kind of response to what was in effect a quick rough idea, as a result I decided to share it with you. It’s called Ghost

Ghost

Wandering these lonely rooms

Forever, desperately chasing

One more fleeting, ghostly

Memory of happier times.

Searching for company,

Since the day I lost you.

My best friend, companion,

Lover, my whole multiverse.

A once warm and happy home,

Reduced to a house, now you’re gone.

Now no more than a cold, empty

Darkened mausoleum, without you.

Gradually, as sunset spreads

I see you once more. The waking

Nightmare is over for now.

At least, until I open my eyes again…

(C)BobChristian2023

This is a very touchy subject, it’s also one that people feel uncomfortable having, which can lead to self harm even suicide. I myself am a survivor & as such I wished I’d spoken out at the time. Silence Is what these creatures depend on, so while you may feel like you can’t tell anyone, you’ll thank yourself in the future. BC x

Hearts is racing, it’s beating,
Trying to escape My chest.
Fighting to breathe, trying

To catch my breath, it slips
Through sweat drenched
Palms. I can’t calm down

I’m terrified. Although you,
Maybe unable to see, it’s
Eating away at me, slowly

Clamps it’s hands over my
Lips. Forcing me to silence,
So I can never speak out.

About
The things you did

Today is a very special day… Mrs Bob & I literally tied the knot. Although we were legally married over nine years ago, we wanted to renew our vows and so we had a handfasting ceremony today. If you’re unfamiliar with the term then allow me to explain..

A handfasting is an ancient European ceremony of betrothal or wedding that dates back to pre-Medieval times and usually involves the tying or binding of the hands of the bride and groom with a cord or ribbon. Such ceremonies are widely practised in the pagan community.

I wrote a heartfelt scribble, which also turned out to be my vows to Mrs Bob. So to my wonderful wife, friend, co-author of my autobiography and soulmate, I give you “These Hands”.

These Hands

These hands holding yours,
Will always show you love,
Kindness, comfort, safety and
Refuge from life’s many storms

I’ll use these hands to build
Our future together as one,
Holding you, caressing you…
Only you, like no other has.

These hands will give you
Strength when you’re weary,
Motivation and support as
You chase your dreams.

Until wrinkled by the ages,
I will always be reaching
Out to you, with silent comfort
With just a single touch.

May we grow old together
As do the stars.
May we, like the sun,
Light each other’s days

Until we rest at last
In that eternal night,
Together. Twin flames,
Burning as one.

Step right up!
No
Sit.
Still.
Swallow your popcorn
and your pride.
The lights are low,
but the lies?
Blinding.

Welcome
to the circus of smoke and spin,
where the tent’s stitched together
with stretched truths and
narratives thinner than tightropes.

You want a show?

Boom
Contortionists
twisting facts ‘til they snap,
bending reality like it owes them rent.

Bang
Limbo dancers
sliding under the bar of basic decency,
dropping lower than your standards,
dodging blame like it’s a dodgeball tournament.

Flash
Sleight of hand!
Watch them shuffle guilt
into your pocket
and call it your idea.
Watch the trick:
Truth disappears,
only to reappear
when it’s convenient.

Yeah
All this, and more,
from the comfort of your own delusion.

Is this the greatest show on Earth?
Or just
a sold-out spectacle
playing on loop
inside your mind?

Limelight

I wish I could go back
to when you didn’t
even know my name—
when I was a ghost
and that felt like freedom.

Now I’m trapped
in a spotlight that hums like a hospital light,
buzzing, relentless—
a nightmare with good PR.

Sleepless nights
lick me down to bone.
Burnt out like a streetlamp
flickering through its own exhaustion.
I thought this would make me happy.
Thought applause could cauterize depression.

Turns out
clapping hands
don’t drown out
the sound of your own mind
breaking into itself.

I watch my illness
in real time—
front row seat
to the unraveling.
Can’t even lie:
I miss when time felt
like it belonged to me,
not the audience.

Now you’re waiting.
Aren’t you?

Waiting for the relapse.
For the headline.
For me to fall back
into the “old me”
like that version
was easier to digest.

You made up your minds
before I opened mine.
Before you saw
how I am now—
tired like gravity,
insecure like a cracked mirror,
dying in small, polite installments.

I miss when I didn’t
have my therapist
on speed dial—
thumb hovering
like a prayer I don’t believe in.

Scared to explain
how I feel
because feelings turn into spectacle
if you hold them up too long.

So instead—
I reach for a tablet.
Small, white surrender.

While you poke holes
in the life raft,
call it critique,
call it concern,
call it love.

And I’m just here—
trying to float
without turning
my drowning
into your entertainment.

(c)BobChristian