Mr J L Harding

How does one explain how much you mean to me without shouting it from the rooftops? To define my love for you in words is impossible, to express the sheer enchantment your smile casts upon my heart, or the unyielding passion you compel to surge within me upon each glance; no words can do that justice.
Because the intensity of my burning love for you is hotter than the sun itself. That’s over twenty seven million degrees of pure, fierce adoration for you in all your forms. Be you happy, sad, healthy, poorly, angry or loving, I will lay my heart open to you as an unconditional devotion to making your life just as perfect as you’ve already made mine. I will sacrifice the world for your kiss, hold you forever in my arms and protect you above all else. You are my best friend, my soul mate, my world.

To read - I firmly believe in the power of education and learning, both through others and independently. Literature provides a platform upon which one’s imagination can blossom, temporarily enveloping us in another world until we finally emerge the other side feeling newly born and appreciative of the world we live within. Reading is essential.

To travel - I definitely agree with St Augustine when he stated that “The world is a book, and those who no not travel read only a page”. We only have one opportunity at life, why not spend it making the most of what this beautiful planet of ours has to offer? Travelling broadens one’s perspectives and opens our mind to the fantastic diversity in the world. Travelling is essential.

To love - The most important aspect of all. Everyone exists, but to love is to truly live. Sharing your love with another, and receiving theirs in turn, is the most utterly fantastic sensation one can ever experience. To present your heart to another and allow them to cherish it as they would their own, if not more so. To grow together, to share together, to feel that life is truly worth living just because they are there at your side. Loving is essential.

A journal written from Adolf Hitler, intending to document his final thoughts, Berlin, April 1945.

I write this in the hope of documenting my final, resolute thoughts before the inevitable happens, so that perhaps one day when the Third Reich regains its power once again, loyal supporters of our glorious regime will know that I never gave up. This act I must carry out is not an act of cowardice, it is simply an unavoidable acceptance of fate. I plead with you, whomever may be reading this, to understand that my beliefs are still just as firm, just as indomitable as they ever have been. Germany shall be great again, with or without my physical presence. This is not the end, this is not the destruction of our aspirations, but merely an obstacle. Our enemies can never prevent our victory, even if they may postpone it. Long before my bones have degraded to dust, Germany will rise again!

Before I joined this party, I led a lifestyle one would not necessarily be proud of. As a young man I was idle and aimless in my goals; my only passion in life was art, and my ambition to become an artist was obstructed time and time again. I felt that typical paranoia that young people experience in their adolescence, that my life would never quite live up to expectations, that those around me would grow to be successful and distinguished, whilst I wallowed in rejection and bitterness.
One may argue that my time in the military contradicts this, but I would disagree. Sure, I joined up to serve my beloved Germany and I endured horrors one who has not experienced it themselves could never imagine, but my resentment remains. I was a foot soldier in the army of a great nation, charging battered battlefields alongside my brothers like Greek heroes upon golden chariots. We had the might of the greatest nation in the world supporting us, we had the fire of duty in our hearts and loyalty in our blood, we knew we could win, regardless of any setbacks. Imagine my despair then, sitting blinded on a hospital bed in Pomerania, when I heard the news that the German forces had signed a declaration of surrender. I felt truly destroyed, devoid now of faith or hope, like a gazelle caught in the merciless jaws of a lioness. But alas, I had no control of the situation, and as a mere corporal my protests fell upon ignorant ears.
Perhaps it was this fact which compelled me to accept Drexler’s invitation to join the party, back on that fateful day in 1919. I recall the inspiration which filled my every oraphis that day, I can only describe it as like a dragon belching the flames of hope back into my lost soul, filling me with renewed determination that I could restore Germany to it’s power once again. I proved this commitment four years later when I led my loyal SA brothers into Munich and demanded revolution. I put my life on the line that day, just as Mussolini did when he marched upon Rome, however I was met not with acceptance, but imprisonment.
Five long years those vermin sentenced me to, and despite only having to serve nine months I resent that sentence still. How can a man be jailed for speaking the truth? For wanting to make our country great again? True injustice, a perfect representation of that corrupt group of left wing and Jewish primates that once called themselves our government.
How can I begin to describe how I felt in Landsberg? That atrocious pit of underclass Hell, even in these current circumstances I would rather be here than back there I assure you. For nine months I ate repulsive gruel and saw only the thin shafts of light which crawled through my barred window each day. Initially I was consumed by my self pity, I felt isolated and helpless. I also felt that I had betrayed my comrades, what use was I to them now, trapped in there like an unwanted stain upon society?
But our gracious Germany called out to me still, her yearning to regain her worth compelled her to choose me, to beckon me not to give up. She needed me like I needed her, and I realised that I could not just sit there and rot away into despair; and so I began to write. I saw Mein Kampf not only as a way to keep myself occupied, but a way of maintaining my dedication to our cause, and as you know, it worked. My faithful brothers’ pressure forced my early release, and on the day I stepped out and felt the snow beneath my feet once again, I confess I felt like a new man. A fresh start. I may have given up on becoming an artist as an adolescent, but as an adult I vowed to myself, and to Germany, that I would now achieve my goal of becoming the leader of this nation.

There were a few who took exception to supporting me, of course. Most were dealt with swiftly, those leftist terrorists and all those who were racially impure, we disposed of them rather quickly. However one can never trust even the greatest friend in a time of conflict, and our beloved military was no different.
I recall a particular incident which I’m sure you’ll have read about in the newspapers last year, where I was the target of a terrorist bomb plot. It was a futile effort to assassinate me, but the fact which truly devastated me was the culprits. My own officers, it still infuriates me to consider how they plotted against me, had it not been for the table leg which spared my life they may have even been successful. I still have nightmares sometimes; I still hear that earth shattering explosion rip through the room, feel the heat and dust envelop me, catapulting me backward into a dark abyss. I can still hear the screams of those poor fellows as they lay there dying, smell the iron in the air as their blood leaked all around them. But what haunts me the most is that look on his face, Stauffenberg’s, as he looked me directly in the eye before he left; he knew that he had left the briefcase there, knew what would happen, what he had arranged to happen, and yet still he had the nerve to look me in the eye. My only comfort is of course that he failed, and duly paid the price for it.
It does not do one well to dwell upon it. Yet clearly it takes more than a few treacherous fiends to kill me, the Russian dogs fighting to get in upstairs will testify to that.

History will tell you my story, how I fought tirelessly to reach the position I deserved, how I removed certain obstacles in my way, how I implemented the necessary measures to improve our nation, even how I was forced to enter this conflict by the very belligerent nations that now knock upon my bunker door. I feel torn between satisfaction that we have achieved so much as a nation, yet regretful that I shall not be there to see it’s fulfilment in reaching our triumph. I find it challenging to write this document, although I recognise the importance that I write these last few words in order to preserve the faith and to oppose any who may have called me a coward. I do fear that writing this may be a waste of time, since those lying mongrels who shall soon invade this building will surely destroy anything which speaks the truth, perhaps they will even forge a letter in my name in an attempt to besmirch it. If you are reading this now, then of course that has not happened, I shall leave this with strict instructions to Linge to save it by any means necessary. He’s a good man, I have the utmost faith in him.

I suppose I had better bring this to an end, as is inevitable. I almost feel like the longer I write, the longer they will hold off their attacks, but this is of course just wishful thinking on my part. They will break our defences within the hour I’m told, the Berlin Garrison is already down to their last few rounds of ammunition and have fought valiantly, almost to the death, ensure you recognise their loyalty. I have already ordered the SS stationed outside to carry Eva and I’s bodies up to be burned at four o’clock, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let those Communist pigs hang us up like animals as they did with Mussolini and his poor wife. Oh, and I’ve also ordered the same with Blondi, she’s been a loyal companion and deserves as such. Now, I must reserve myself to my inescapable fate, and end this with a plea to you to continue my legacy, to continue the Reich.

I remain resolute that this is not the end for our great people, this is merely the beginning; though I must commit the inevitable after I finish writing this, I am the first of many. I will be replaced, and the Third Reich will live on regardless of the futile efforts of those who oppose it. Whomever you are, read this with conviction; the Third Reich is a phoenix, and although they may storm my fortifications tonight and claim they have achieved “victory”, they are blinded by their arrogance, and we will rise up again, even stronger than before. This I speak with assured confidence, so I compel you now, whomever may read this, to remember these words, and accept responsibility that all those who love Germany surely must. Strive, fight, die if you must, but never give up hope!

By Mr Jamie L Harding, 09th May 2013. ©

I’d once read that the most common thing for a dying combatant to do, just before they had reached that point where one is truly certain that death was inevitable, was to call out for their mother. As they lay in a pool of their own warm, fresh blood, their final action was to involuntarily revert to the most instinctual act they could summon. Just as a new-born child will cry for it’s mother, the one being they have grown accustomed to and so associate with nurture and security, so too did these matured men seek that comfort in the midst of battle.
It is a sobering thought. One is compelled to question whether it is comforting to know that these individuals may have somehow withdrawn themselves from the pain and anguish as they neared their final breath, to have somehow transported themselves to a place of warmth and safety even if only within their minds, or whether it is truly terrible that they felt such torment and agony in the first place.
Alfred Kazin stated that war is “the enduring condition of twentieth-century man”, but should we accept this as fact or challenge it? Should modern society learn from the history of humanity and it’s inability to avoid war that war is simply a part of human life, something that no matter how hard one tries, will always be present?

But alas, it is not a soldier’s place to question such morality. Soldiers obey orders and fight where they are told. Soldiers are but tools of war, not instigators. It is down to politicians, bureaucrats and statesmen to decide whether war is acceptable, it is a soldier’s duty not to question, but to obey.

My UCAS is all done and I’ve received my offers, and confirmed my firm acceptance at Glamorgan University to study English and History.

Thought I’d share with you beautiful people my Personal Statement, enjoy, and let me know what you think! :)


“Studying English and History at university for me would be an opportunity to both immerse myself in two subjects which I hold an intense passion for, as well as broaden my potential for my chosen career path.
Winston Churchill once declared that “History is written by the victors”, a statement that encourages me to expand my knowledge of History as well as advance my skill for writing, as it conveys how History can be manipulated by those writing it and the power that this holds over the world’s perceptions.

Studying English Literature has reinforced my passion for reading and writing of all genres. I have always had a profound love for literature and its ability to demonstrate the vast possibilities of an individual’s interpretation of a subject. From the enthralling adventure tales of Jules Verne to the seductive contemplations of Andrew Marvell, literature for me exemplifies the true potential of humanity.

I have always excelled at English, yet been captivated by the fascinating allure of History. I welcome the opportunity to explore the diverse range of styles and adaptations of English which have been documented throughout time and the influence of it’s context. It is this eagerness to study past events combined with my passion for writing that prompted me to choose English Literature at A Level and also AS History.

I initially joined the British Army, however then decided studying a degree first would be far more suited to my personality in order to make me eligible in the future to reapply as an officer. I now see my time in the military, as well as my time spent teaching English at a secondary school, as extremely beneficial. They have taught me valuable life skills and matured me from a young boy into a worldly adult, it taught me the benefit of education and the responsibilities expected of an individual in what is usually referred to as the “real world”. I hope this distinguishes me from the majority.

At Sixth Form I was appointed Prefect, Registration Representative and Team Leader, all of which I welcomed and thoroughly enjoyed. The contrast of the subjects I chose to study prove my initiative and the broad nature of my knowledge, it portrays my capability to adapt my learning and feel confident in doing so.

I have chosen English and History for various reasons. I have always been infatuated with history, in particular military history. I have delved into history books from a very early age, being drawn to areas ranging from the World Wars to the Soviet Revolution. My spare time is often occupied by eager research into topics of interest, using both literature and the Internet to amplify my understanding. The very state of humanity as we are today is of course a result of everything that has preceded us, and for this reason I find it enthralling to learn the history of the world we now live in.

I am now also in the process of completing an Access to HE Social Science and Humanities course, which I decided to study in order to increase my appeal to Universities by both enhancing my skills as a student as well as demonstrating my independent commitment to studies. During this course I have studied a wide range of subjects including English, Law, Psychology and Sociology, all of which I am sure will bring invaluable knowledge that will surely be of use whilst at University, as well as portraying my ability to combine more than one subject effectively as I plan to do with this degree.

Having multiple friends already at University, I already have some experience of University life and I have no doubt that this is where I belong. To conclude, I am an experienced, conscientious and reliable individual that looks forward to University life and the productive role I shall play in it. I already have ambitious goals which a degree in English and History would be substantially beneficial to help me achieve, and I sincerely hope you can recognise my suitability and devotion to gaining this qualification.”

©

You’ve lived your entire life drifting by uneventfully, your whole life being just an existence and nothing more. Day in, day out, you wake up, go about your daily life and maintain a monotonous continuance where nothing significant ever really happens. You’re not particularly unhappy, your life has it’s ups and downs, just like everyone else’s’. But you have a feeling, a deep desire yearning from within, telling you repeatedly that you’re destined for something greater than this. You can feel in every fibre of your body that you’re missing something, something that once found, will not only allow you to exist, but to live.

Eventually though, after years of waiting, you’re lulled into an acceptance. You almost feel content with this endless feeling of absence in your life. You are just about done, finally just about to give up on all hope of achieving that special something when, unexpectedly, you meet them.

That one singular person that initially means nothing to you, a passing glance maybe, a courteous nod, a smile as you merely acknowledge their presence. And in those first moments, they mean nothing to you. They are nothing more than a brief acquaintance of your life, neither adding nor delaying it in any way, shape or form.

How does one then, over time, transform from a mere acquaintance, a brief exchange of simple greetings, into a person who’s very existence gives our life purpose? A person who can bring instant euphoria flooding through your heart with a mere glance? A person who at once made no impact upon our lives, suddenly becomes the whole defining principle in them? Their simple presence a warming glow that strengthens us from the very core.

“Love” is a word so overused in modern society it has rather lost it’s value. In this commercialised world that we inhabit to say “I love you” holds a far less significant expression than it would have previously. We live in a generation where love is merely a word, an emphasis of “like” but with no real stature. How can we describe our feelings then to this one person that defines all that we live for, work for, strive to do better for, when the very word put forward has lost it’s worth? How can we expect one word to portray the entire contents of our bursting hearts?

Yet then, we must ask ourselves, could any? Is there even a possibility that the true description of love could be summarised using only words?

So I was set my first assignment from my Access to HE course today, to write about a “significant life experience”. I can’t think of anything that’s happened to me that is more significant than my relationship, it’s something that defines me, and so I chose to write about how Tara and I got together back in late 2007. Check it out! :)

“Meeting the one.”

I had always been brought up with an old fashioned, traditionally valued view of love. I had always known that I was attracted to straightforward, faithful monogamy, rather than “playing the field”. I had, however, also made the assumption that I would remain single for a much longer time than most, purely because I wanted to focus on establishing my career first. It was then that I could settle down and have a family.
Ironically then, I entered my first proper relationship with my now fiancee Tara at the tender age of just fifteen years old, and it is this significant life experience that I have chosen to write about.
It all began, completely randomly I suppose, when I contacted her through Bebo (a social networking site) with a simple sentence of “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before?”. Simple, direct, but an act that would change both of our lives forever.
She replied, seeming friendly and easy to get along with, and we instantly engaged in conversation. Soon one conversation became many, and this eventually spread to mailing one another, just as friends at first, talking about our day, our interests, our opinions, just getting to know each other as people do.
I am a man that has always prided myself upon my confidence, even back then. It is a trait that has been passed down through my family to be reserved usually, but confident and firm when necessary. It came as a shock to me then to discover how shy Tara made me at first. At school, we would play little games, her and I, my friends and her’s, teasing one another and trying hard to impress. I thoroughly enjoyed her company, despite the nervous knot her presence would always implement within my stomach, and slowly but surely, I began to fall for her.
And so one night, whilst camping on a late November’s night with my best friend, I found myself discussing with him how I felt about her, conveying my thoughts as a patient would to a therapist. It enlightened me to explain the truth, to voice aloud my feelings about her, and I decided that very night that I would ask her out the very next day!
Well, when it came down to it, I was actually far too apprehensive to ask her out the next day. Or the next after that. Or even the next one after that. Suddenly, three weeks had passed and still I had delayed the task.
It was fortunate then, that my parents had planned to vacation for a week just before Christmas, and so I would have the house to myself. “Good things come to those who wait” indeed. I realised that this was the ideal opportunity to finalise my plan, and so I casually invited her and a few friends down for the evening.
The week became a memorable one, as both Tara’s and my friends ensured to make the most of my vacant house, attending each night to relax and enjoy a glass of alcohol or too. With the benefit of hindsight, I suppose I had looked rather pretentious drinking straight vodka at just fifteen, especially since Tara herself did not drink anything, yet at the time I felt meretricious, and so vodka was the key!
Finally, after the week had passed and still I had not yet gained the courage to act, I began to doubt myself and whether I would ever be brave enough to risk the rejection. Luckily though, Tara had been contemplating the very same gesture, and had secretly been hoping I would! Exactly two days before Christmas, she mailed me telling me that she had bought me a present for Christmas. My initial reaction was of course “Damn”, as I recognised that I now had only two days to buy her a present too, yet at the same time I questioned why a girl would buy me a present without considerable reason. My hope was revived.
And so I spent the day of Christmas Eve racing around the town frantically searching for a gift, deciding eventually on a rather divine perfume which I still buy her to this day. She arrived at my house later that day to exchange our gifts to each other, and then, everything changed.
As I handed over the gift, she hugged me. A simple hug. A quick hug. It wasn’t much, but it was all it took.
Right there, right then, I made a decision that by the end of the day I’d either have her or have been rejected. Either way, it had to be done (She’d hugged me after all!).
And so, that night, whilst mailing one another and flirting quite obviously by now, I risked it all. I asked her via mail. I made a small speech in my typically unconventional way, telling her how I thought she was amazing, how I would be honoured to be able to call myself hers, and I asked for her love.
A single anxious moment of waiting, and then, her reply. Thankfully, a gleeful “Yes! I will!”. The relief was staggering. And so at exactly 23:23pm on 24th December 2007, Tara and I officially got together, truly the best moment of my life. It was also certainly the best Christmas present I’d ever received, 37 minutes early, I’d gained the girl that would turn out to be the love of my life. The girl that even now, almost five years later, is someone I am proud to call my own, and I am fully confident will remain that way for the rest of my life.

“The Pocket Watch”

As I sat there, contemplations in my mind fuelled by emotion and scotch, I felt myself examining the pocket watch clutched in my palm, searching for an answer it could never provide. I yearned to see past it’s face, it’s cogs, it’s machinery, and for it to reveal to me some magical mystery that would burn away all life’s troubles to cinder.
This small amalgamation of brass and steel, ticking away defiantly through each second of every day towards a full rotation, it held some form of representation to me. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall as I stared intently at it’s hands. It was calling to me. I heard each tick yet could not listen, not yet.
And then it changed abruptly, as these things do, and suddenly all was clear. Just as the hands of this device would carry on, I had to too. I must replicate it’s defiance, persevering through time and never faltering. The hands were my soul, and each circulation was life. At times, the hands ticked further from the twelve, just as life digresses away from the path in which we sometimes want it to, but always, each time, they would eventually level out and begin the return. Closer and closer they would tick, and closer and closer I must become, to eventually reaching the inevitable.
Just as time shall tick on forever, I too shall tick with it.

- By J L Harding. 02/08/2012. ©.

“I See Them”.

My brothers still visit me sometimes, late at night,
I see their young faces smiling at me, unaware that they have passed,
I hear their distant voices, they speak but can not listen,
In the dead of night, I see them.

I am yet to forget, yet to recover, but I shall not show my pain,
I hide behind a mask of pride, I conceal the fear that haunts me each night,
“It’s a miracle” they say, that I came through it all unscathed,
They can never understand, not all wounds are visible.
Bullet wounds heal and burns fade, but my pain is far more severe,
How do you heal what you can not explain?

My brothers still visit me sometimes, late at night,
I see their blank eyes staring at me, they question why I survived,
I hear their desperate screams, I try but can not help them, ‘tis too late now,
In the dead of night, I see them.

I returned to a hero’s welcome, they said I was a lucky one,
I nodded in silence, my denial a secret maintained,
They would never consider the torment I feel, the questions I ask,
They see a hero standing tall, unaffected by the horror I’ve experienced,
But how can I show them how terrified I am?

My brothers still visit me sometimes, late at night,
I see the blood on their faces, the burns on their skin, I tremble and recoil,
I smell their stagnant corpses, still it plagues me as their bodies decay before me,
In the dead of night, I see them.

I’ve grown old now, the war long forgotten, but for once a year,
For one day a year they recognise my anguish and the Hell I encountered,
I kneel at the monument, with the names all inscribed,
It kills me inside and I shudder with terror, like a coward I feel, to cry in this way,
But how can I control the agony any longer?

My brothers don’t visit me any more, and I’m alone all night,
I see not their faces, hear no cries, and smell only the air,
I am alone with my guilt, waiting for the end,
And I can’t help but question, each night as I lay,
Will my brothers accept me, when I rejoin them one day?
In the dead of night, I wish I could see them.

- By J L Harding. 02/08/1992. ©.

“I Stand Alone”

I stand along amongst many, come and gone from past to present,
And doubtless many more yet to do the same, offering up our lives without pause,
I must not ponder about possibilities, about what could happen,
I must focus solely on the now, the duty, the will to do right,
The cold steel of my rifle contrasting against the heat of the merciless sun,
The sore dryness of my throat against the sweat running down my face,
I stand alone amongst many, my platoon an organised troop of killers,
Together we are a mass of steel, power and justice,
Alone, we are nervous young boys out to prove ourselves.
Fear strikes all, but we refuse to waver,
We stand tall, in polished boots with our heads held high,
A nation’s freedom resting on our shoulders and conviction in our hearts,
I stand alone amongst many, alone and strong.

- By J L Harding. 31/07/2012. ©.

“Il m’a donné l’espoir” - “It gave me hope”.

I recall it was early one December morn’
When the silence of an innocent peace became torn,
Howitzers vanquishing a once peaceful land
Obliterating all who dared to make a stand.

Against the crash of the guns we hesitantly advanced,
Cut down like rats, we stood not a chance.
My brothers, they perished under the wave of death
That swept the land that day, abducting each breath.

Yet I were to join them it seemed, riddled with brass,
And I dropped to the floor, this act my last.
So as I lay there waiting for Death’s cold embrace,
I took one last glimpse of this Hell embodied place.

Earth blown open, wires tangled,
Fires erupting, bodies mangled,
The scene a chaotic mix of splintered trees and upturned mud,
Burying the screams of former men and their young fresh blood.

Amongst the horror of conflict I remember one scene,
One single flower remained of the many there’d once been,
It stood there defiant, solitary and tall,
As all around my comrades continued to fall.

This one single contrast gave me such motive to dare
To dream of a time so absent of despair,
To imagine a day where the war had been won
Where my bloodstained hands were free of the gun.

But it was now too late, as I laid down to die,
Of anguish and sadness I gave one last cry,
And as my body grew cold, my eyes ceased to see,
That one single flower that gave hope to me.

- By J L Harding. 31/07/2012. ©.

The London 2012 Summer Olympics Opening Ceremony - An article by Mr J L Harding. ©.

Decades from now, our children, and indeed our grandchildren, will be sure to ask us “Where were you?” during the London 2012 Olympics. My personal response may be not what they expect. I shall not regale them with tales of how I stood upon the pitch amongst the thousands of others participating, or even impress them with a picture of some local venue filled with intoxicated cheers and waving flags. Instead, my rather bland reply shall be “Well, I was working that night”.
I shall however be able to recapture their downhearted spirits by informing them that despite being stuck on a night shift, I did manage to see the majority of the opening ceremony in the same way that so many others did, the television! I was a mere individual among the billions of eyes watching the event from all over the world, and I shall tell you now at this early stage, I was thoroughly impressed.
A flypast by the famous Red Arrows catapulted us into the start of the ceremony, and from there it could only get better. From the picturesque image of rural Britain, to the pride evoking depiction of our Industrial surge, from the recognition of our military’s unwavering heroism, to the nostalgic recollection of our culture through technology, the opening ceremony covered it all. Global icons, Olympic greats, royal dignitaries, musical legends and ordinary citizens alike were all included in the unforgettable lineup that is sure to be celebrated for years to come. It captured almost every individual aspect of Britain that each citizen can be proud of, and had the entire world looking on in admiration of our country. Gordon Rayner, the chief reporter of The Telegraph, described the spectacle as “Brilliant, breathtaking, bonkers and utterly British”, a description I couldn’t have put better myself. Even our sense of humour was portrayed accurately through the use of our notoriously bad weather, or the use of Her Majesty the Queen greeting “Mr Bond” (Daniel Craig) at Buckingham Palace. For me though, the most comical scene was of course our beloved Rowan Atkinson, the British king of comedic spectacle, and as always, he gave a performance even the most stone hearted of us couldn’t resist being amused by.
I’d like to point out too that even those who criticise the ceremony are unwillingly subjecting themselves to proving it’s influence upon them. We are a nation of consistent naysayers, complainers and critics. It is a common aspect of British life to doubt everything, pick out all it’s faults, then one day look back upon it and say “Well actually, it wasn’t that bad after all”. Those now giving negative views of the ceremony only serve to prove this.
An important point to consider is that whether you found the ceremony impressive or disappointing, one can not deny that it is a humbling experience to consider the unity that so many felt as we watched the ceremony together. Whilst the thought of a world joined together in solidarity is of course a great one, it also raises the rather naive question of “If we can do it for a few hours, why not always?”. I suppose that, for now, all we can do is sit back, enjoy the games, and most importantly of all, maintain hope!

Completed at 02:25am. Saturday 28th July.

“When We’re Apart”.

Be it a single second or several months,
Be it tantalisingly close or painfully far,
I hope you know that when you’re not by me,
I truly wish you are.

When the nights are cold and I feel alone,
When I wake at dawn and long for your touch,
I hope you know that when you’re not with me,
I truly miss you so much.

And when I speak of you to others, I shall be proud,
I shall regale them with tales of our love and our story together,
I’ll help them to know that I truly love you,
And I shall do forever.

- By J L Harding. 09/07/2012. ©.

Found this whilst sorting out all my folders on my laptop, and thought I’d share, for anyone bored or interested :)

How Tara and I got together.

Tara and I got together on Christmas Eve of 2007 and have been happily in love ever since!
It all began, completely randomly I suppose, when I commented on her wall on Bebo with a simple sentence of “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before?”. Simple, straight forward, but an act that would change both of our lives forever.
She replied, seeming friendly and easy to get along with, and engaged in conversation. This eventually spread to mailing one another, just as friends at first, talking about our day, our interests, our opinions, just getting to know each other really. It turned out I had indeed seen her before, at school, she was in the year below me and (brace yourself) she happened to be my best friend’s sister’s best friend. We were both quite shy in person at first, although we did play little games in school, her and I, my friends and her’s, just teasing each other really. Simple, youthful ‘games’ like pen-throwing-fights or where they would try to steal our bags and we’d have to defend them fiercely. It was all great fun!
Anyway, slowly but surely, I began to fall for her.
One night, whilst camping in about late November, I found myself discussing this with my best friend and decided that I would ask her out as soon as I was confident enough. I’d assumed initially this would take a few days, a week maybe. I’d never been shy around anyone really, male or female, but with her it was different, it was special.
Two/three weeks later and I still hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask her out, and by now I was beginning to doubt myself, something that’s quite rare for me. Thankfully, my parents went away for a week and so I had a free house, and decided to invite her and a few friends down just to hang out and perhaps a drink or two (I was drinking vodka, she drank nothing, whoops!).
Then, two days before Christmas, Tara mailed me telling me that she had bought me a present for Christmas. “Shit”. I spent the next day, Christmas Eve, racing around town looking for a present to give to her too, it was hectic and very last-minute, but I bought her a nice perfume eventually. Job done.
She arrived at my house on Christmas Eve to exchange our gifts to each other, and then, everything changed.
As I handed over the gift, she hugged me. A simple hug. A quick hug. It wasn’t much, but it was all it took.
Right there, right then, I made a decision that by the end of the day I’d either have her or have been rejected. Either way, it had to be done (She’d hugged me afterall!).
And so, that night, whilst mailing one another and flirting quite obviously by now, I risked it all. I asked her via mail. I made a small speech, unconvential I know, but that’s me! I told her how I thought she was amazing, how I would be honoured to be able to call myself hers, and I asked for her love.

A single anxious moment of waiting, and then, her reply. Thankfully, a gleeful “Yes! I will! :D”. And so at exactly 23:23pm on 24th December 2007, Tara and I officially got together, truly the best moment of my life. It was also certainly the best Christmas present I’d ever received, 37 minutes early, I’d gained the girl that would turn out to be the love of my life. Perfect.

Now, over four years later, I love her even more than I could ever have thought it possible to love anything in the world. It’s amazing how I can trust her with anything, and how she can always make me smile. She is my world. She is the one person that can always make me happy no matter what happens, the one person that I’d do absolutely anything for, and the one person that I can not wait to spend the rest of my entire life with :D