Mrs Brown's Boys and Me.
steve
Wed 24/01, 01:42
You
It will be no coincidence that this piece of writing will contain the word coincidence many times. It is called Mrs Brown's boys and me.
Back in summertime 1984 my mum Joan died, and one of my best / closet pals at the time was Gareth 'Skid' Brown. Joan passed away in bed at home, cancer stricken: I spent daytimes / evenings many times through that summer in particular at Skid's mum's house. She knew the situation, I was my mum's main carer if you want to call it that, despite being the youngest of four with a dad (who was an alcoholic: always pissed) now living at home for the first time in my, (and his) life.
Looking after her never bothered me at the time and hasn't since. I was 14 but needed to take over. So I took over.
Skid's mum baked me a Victoria sponge cake three times a week at least and called me 'chucchy face' every time I saw her. So it was everyday; Skid and me would giggle (stoned off our faces on dope,) Mrs Brown squeezing my cheeks. 6ft 2" 15 years old with a chucchy face, whatever one of those is. I'd walk home to go back to nurse my mum through the night, but never with a full cake cos I used to eat half on the Wootton Street stroll. You ain't tried cake till you've tried a Mrs B cake.
Losing my mum at 15? well; so, coincidentally, did my missus at 15: and there you go, the first mention of coincidence. She was born in November, (as I was) another coincidence. Steph's mum and my mum shared the same middle name too, Mary. Another coincidence. Steph went into labour with our first child, coincidentally, on the anniversary of when her mum died back in 1986, ie March 15. Bernice was born then the following day, March 16 1994, and the day after that, March 17 St Patrick's day 1994, I have a day old daughter and it's one year since my dad had died. Steph's mum's death our daughter born my dad's death. March 15 16 17.
People die everyday, babies are born everyday. Given the numbers there are bound to be coincidences. Coincidence beyond the norm, too much coincidence if you will, was considered by Psychologist Carl Jung as 'synchronicity'. Is there such a thing?
To this day I'm the same as I was back in 1984 pretty much, only I'm turning 50 this year, not 16. Music, Liverpool FC, cars and fun. My favourite band is Ocean Colour Scene: Simon Fowler to me is musician / poet / prophet / one of the greatest singing voices I've ever heard, definitely ever witnessed. I'll support Liverpool FC till I die, my favourite car is Range Rover. Still 15 in so many ways.
The year my mum died, 1984, Liverpool won the European Cup for the 4th time. It's a big deal, the European Cup, the most prestigious prize a team can win in domestic European club football. These days of course it's known as the Champions League. The Reds won it again in 2005, number five, known as 'the miracle of Istanbul.' Coincidentally, on the 25th day of the fifth month of the fifth year of the millennium (25 / 05 / 2005) Captain Stephen Gerrard lifted Liverpool's fifth European cup five days before his twenty fifth birthday. My children saw their dad cry for the first ever time in their lives. Despite being three nil down at half time, (against Milan, the best team in Europe at that time) I promised my kids we'd beat them anyway. We beat them anyway. I said the same to my mate in London, Hitesh, on the phone as he travelled home on the London underground tube at half time. He urged me to place a bet, I told him the money didn't matter, despite astronomical odds for Liverpool FC to do as I'd promised my children. ''The European Cup is coming home tonight.'' It also, coincidentally, was (is) Simon Fowler's birthday, of Ocean Colour Scene, May 25th.
Hitesh on the phone with me, 25/05/2005, as Reds rattled three goals in, in six minutes...... my God what a night that was. May 25th. LFC. OCS. Reds champions of Europe on Si Fowlers' birthday. The year of 2005 of course, just six weeks or so later, London 7/7 happened. Day seven month seven the year that adds up to seven. 07/07/2005.
Speaking of Liverpool FC and London 7/7:
Any computer geek will know that an original email can be categorically proven to have been sent at the date time specified, in this case, Tue Jun 21 13:50:33 2005, an email sent to s_mera. Mr Mera (Stephen (Steveo) is a Parapsychologist based in Manchester. As a Parapsychologist, one of his roles basically is that if an individual claims to be gifted beyond the five senses, he proves you're not.
From STEPHANIE JOHNSON Tue Jun 21 13:50:33 2005
Received: from Tue, 21 Jun 2005 13:50:33 BST
Date: Tue, 21 Jun 2005 13:50:33 +0100 (BST)
From: STEPHANIE JOHNSON
Subject: having slept on it steveo.......
To: s_mera@yahoo.com
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary=
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Content-Length: 2604
The email itself, sent from my missus' account says:
Hi steve, ive been thinking as to how to tell you this latest stuff plus i didnt want you to be thinking about it on yer hols, i may of course be wrong about what i feel but i knda doubt it. I did think youd have worked it out for yourself by now, but if not see wot u think to this.Last mays stuff van bomb came at windsor, obvious british queen link, then the liverpool fans in garden described as "like the jubilee" east end tv stars, big ben stops at 22.20 the very night im taken into the cosmos...................LONDON is next, it is being planned right now. Even the bombs of 050505 were british consolate..........this country, london next for sure.
Sent June 21st 2005. I'd sussed it. So it meant having it logged which I had. It also meant I had to get warning to my friends in London. The three of them worked / lived London, the fourth lives in Surrey but is often in London on business; all in top end mainstream media. Three weeks later, London 7/7, happened, one of the stations hit, indeed the very first explosion happened at Liverpool Street. As the event approached I was fucking panic ridden. (You'll see why in this blog.) But a BBC broadcaster; an ITV news editor, and a production media friend were expecting it. A film maker pal of mine who lives in Surrey, schooled at Eton, he was expecting it too. As was the the Parapsychologist who's meant to prove I'm nuts.
9/11 meant they can all think what the fuck they want, initially. Then I'll freak the shit out of them. This is why I went after the people I went after.
I told each person mentioned here with their posh well paid television jobs back in 2003. I'm so gifted, my life is so profound, I will blow your fucking minds. I did, I have, and I still do. Email technology is a wanderfal thang. Anyway. Back to Mrs Brown's Boys and me. (I'll go deeper into that 'LONDON IS NEXT' email as you read)
It was no coincidence I spent so much time at Skid's mums house back in the summertime of 1984. Gareth's two elder brothers, Duncan and Adrian, were cool as fuck, both in their twenties. Their sister Avril was sexy, and made a brilliant cheese and onion crusty batch. There was a little fluffy dog called Patsy who used to sleep on my lap, and Skid's mum and dad. Maurice hardly ever spoke, Skid's mum fussed around me non stop.
I left school at 16 as did Skid, he went off to be a biker (we always knew he would crazy fucker!) I started working in Coventry; older mates cars birds nightclubs dressed like a fucking Christmas tree with bouffant hair big gold earring pleated jeans New Romantic. I had a fantastic time. I met Steph three weeks before my 21st birthday back in 1989, we've been together since, married 25 of those years in exactly seven days time as I write this.
A year ago, around this time of year (January) I got a F/B friend's request from Gareth: a profile pic of him zipping across the sea on big jet ski, smile all across his chops. Yep, that's Gareth right there. It made me chuckle. I accepted his request of course; and saw as well as the jet ski smile a contented looking Skid with a chick; the same chick he married. I remember cos I popped in the club to see him the day he married her, (April 4th 2009) the Collycroft Club, the same club where Steph and me had our reception, with Bill Mayne doing the disco, January 30th 1993. March the following year, 1994, fourteen months later, I became a dad as well as a nuzbund.
Last May 25th 2017. The twenty fifth day of the fifth month of the seventeenth year of the millennium. Twelve years since the Miracle of Istanbul, Reds European Champions. Simon Fowler's 50 something birthday. This day, was (is) also Ade's birthday, Skid's brother. I hadn't spoken with Ade for years, our paths simply never crossed from summertime 1984, when I was 15. On his fifty something birthday last year, I sat in his house on Newtown Road, the beautiful Edwardian (or Georgian, anyway) home he was in the process of leaving having sold it. 25 / 05/ 2017. We spoke about:
I own a Victorian house that needs 20k at least spending on it; then picking up and dropping in Cornwall. This prompted me to suggest he eventually would end up in Cornwall; Cornwall is calling him, and I specified St Ives. I was stressed too, trying to hide it: Westminster attack had happened weeks earlier (March 22nd) AND Manchester had just happened three days previously (May 22nd) my head was fucking spinning: I was expecting London to be hit next (London then was hit again in June) and of course the anniversary of 7/7 was not so far off. But.
Having led such a profound life for so long, since year 2000 at least, experience helps to cope; to at least try my hardest to function like normal people function. I offered to help Adrian when his moving day comes for his new house, even if it just means driving given this fucking spine of mine. I asked him how Dunc was 'is he still crazy as fuck?' I asked laughing. ''Oh he'll always be crazy mate" he said laughing, adding that I'd see him soon anyway, moving day. Cool. So Dunc's chilled has he? the zillion mile an hour crazy fucking brain fanny magnet has mellowed with age. Mind you, I hadn't seen / spoke with Dunc for thirty three years, at Mrs Brown's boys mum's house, back in the summertime of 1984. Of course he's different now. We all are.
Moving day came, coincidentally, on the same day anniversary number twelve as the 7/7 London atrocity of 2005. Twelve years on the anniversary meant I was at Ade's house, as I was on his birthday which also happens to be Simon's birthday which also happens to be the day Reds became Champions of Europe for the first time since 1984, the year Joan ''me mum'' died. Dunc was there too, Ade's son in law, Ade's missus, some kids: we had a great time and moved everything swiftly and with style, with zero breakages, 07 / 07 / 2017. I wasn't required to drive but I did muck in shifting boxes, angrily gritting my teeth at the pain in my spine. Angry....Westminster, Manchester concert hall: what I'd been through, and written, AGAIN. So here on 7/7 of 2017 with two of Mrs Brown's boys, the third, Gareth in the air with his wife flying to Turkey. Let's get Ade moved art and moved in.
I won't be writing that coincidence word from here on in: it takes too long to type and I will have to type that fucking word over and over and over again. From now, it, the C word, is applicable to wherever the reader so desires.
On Adrian and his families' moving day, 07/07/2017, Ade drove the van, loaded, with his son in law as passenger in the ABC hire vehicle. Duncan drove Ade's car, I was the passenger. There was awsome music on in Ade's car, and it was a bit weird: I'm sitting with Dunc Brarn after all these years. Ade told Dunc where he was moving to, twenty minutes drive away (posh fucker) turn left at the pub onto Camborne Drive.
In that twenty minute drive in Ade's Lexus, I reminded Dunc who I was, and told him I could remember him with....Dolly ''Ah!'' he said ''you knew Dolly'' (how could anyone forget you two as it was back then Duncan) and he told me about his kids, the boy he lost, little Jamie, and how, such tragic circumstances. Jamie was seven years and seven months old the day he was tragically killed. I pictured my boy at that age, it seems like yesterday, I felt that pain in that moment when Dunc told me. We shared more tragic stories, we listened to brilliant music, we laughed and sang. Then we eventually arrived at Ade's, prior to: he hadn't actually told us the actual address. So there's two dodgy looking blokes in the middle of the day cruising along a very posh estate with very large houses in a silver Lexus. Sting driving abart with Ian Brown blasting Mott The Hoople.
The first thing I noticed and said to Ade as he walked by carrying a box. "Your new home is on St Ives Close?" He nodded, I asked if he recalled what I'd told him on his birthday. And here he is, on St Ives Close. But he's not in Cornwall of course. I went into the kitchen for the first time on 7/7/2017 at Ade's new gaff, and the time on the cooker read 1515. I said in my head ''fuck off'' and insisted on lifting a sofa. Duncan lifted a tumble dryer by himself the crazy man, but threw it about like it was paper. For a fact I will end up on crutches, I know this. But 7/7/2017 has become my swansong in many ways. The laughter when I'm with Mrs Brown's boys, I cannot describe. Even when carrying boxes and shifting sofas the humour; Jesus.
Laughter feels good, really good, and that's the purpose of life. To be happy, to laugh and to love as often and as hard as you can. Impossible to do all the time of course, because life, at times, can be a right word I won't use because Dreenie Duncan's wife will tell me off. It begins with C, it has three more letters, so at least we know it isn't coincidence.
Once Ade's worldy goods possessions and chattels were in his new home on St Ives Close the afternoon of 7/7/2017, I walked under the arch alongside Skid's mum's entry to her home, (in the street running parallel with my home now,) for the first time since the year my mum died, back in '84. Dunc and Ade went to see their mum and dad on the way back to finalise the move, I went with them. The last time I'd seen Mr and Mrs Brown, 33 years previously, they'd be in their 50's. It was a bit surreal but beautiful to see them now in their 80's, having not since the 1980's. Skid's mum hadn't long been awake, Ade tried to explain who I was. Trippy experience. Little did any of us have an inkling of what was then to happen. Mrs. B flew away to be a spirit in the sky just a couple of weeks later. For me, Steve, the whole thing is so profound, the sequence of events, but more importantly I had to do whatever Mrs Brown's boys needed, make sure they're ok. Skid was my best friend the year my mum died. I had to be the same for him. I had to put off going to OCS Hastings until the evening so I could be at Mrs. B's funeral. I had to buy a new suit, new shoes, and be spotless: Gareth's mum used to often compliment how clean I was, god bless her. She would be glad I'm back on the scene. There's some Ocean Colour Scene I could play her too man she'd love it.
The day after waving goodbye to Mrs B for the final time (on earth) OCS in Hastings the next day was fantastic. I had tattoo's at 11am, met up with some London mates at lunchtime, Bernice and the missus came too. I had a brilliant chat with Steve Craddock at the do after, and staggered through Hastings off me head with the missus and daughter in tow at 2am. I gave a homeless bloke a fiver, chatted to a group of da yoof; the missus wasn't happy not least as she was knackered. I can be hard work. But can't we all.
Has there been some sort of cosmic orchestration taking place? Or is it one big C word? The two dates involved here, May 25th and July 7. Seeing Skid's mum again after all these years, the last time the year my mum died, and a few weeks later Mrs Brown passes away. As for this life of mine.
Well. Do I name drop here and suggest whoever may care asks them their opinion? It isn't Vera from the veg stand, Helen from Home Bargains and Paul the plasterer, after all.
How do I prove that media officials clearly stated, cannot touch you Steve, cannot frighten the public. OFCOM rules. The first one to tell me this, back in 2003! is still working in mainstream production and broadcasting, but in Canada. All these years later, fifteen to be exact, Lisa and me are very close despite the miles. Lisa Armstrong ITV news editor. Top, top chick mum and wife. Bless her. Lisa asked me from her desk at ITV's 'This Morning' as news editor behind the scenes, to keep in touch with her. That in itself at that time, 2003, three little kids one wife crazy profound life too, was massive. Lisa knew. Steve's real deal. Anyone is more than welcome to ask her.
Anyone is equally as welcome to ask BBC broadcaster Alan Dedicoat whether his posh Eton educated Surrey based film maker pal, David Pollock, had explicitly warned him, famous BBC man, to be careful in London, especially on public transport, from the June 21st 2005 date I emailed Stephen Mera. Lisa and Hitesh warned too, David told Alan, email forwarded. ''Steve is very concerned now'' said BBC man's very posh speaking Surrey mate.
July 6th 2005 London won the Olympics bid, the nation bouncing: and the next day, July 7th 2005, London trains were bouncing too; blown the fuck up. Anyone can contact the BBC and ask Alan about this time, and where I come into it. Anyone can contact Amatis Films in Surrey and speak with David. Anyone can ask Lisa Armstrong ITV, anyone can ask Hitesh Maisuria media production. What a crazy day, crazy time that was. Everyone around me, everyone who knew me, once again, stunned. The afternoon of London 7/7 Parapsychologist Stephen Mera sent me an email simply stating ''I can confirm that yet again you've done it again. You never cease to amaze me''. It meant nothing then, it means nothing now. I'm not a child who needs praise. I'm just a man who's a gifted man, that's all.
Like everyone, when I sleep I dream. When I dream of the streets where I was raised, and / or being inside my mum's house. Precognition time.
East End fast food.
steve
Reply |
Wed 26/04/2017 02:09
To:
lorraine@lorraineworsley.co.uk;
Lisa-armstrong2011@hotmail.co.uk;
david.pollock@amatis.co.uk;
david@perfectblendvideo.co.uk;
s_mera@yahoo.com;
c.french@gold.ac.uk
I've had a dream where I was inside my mum's house, in the kitchen. I sat at the kitchen table, and fish chips and mushy peas was given to me, as of from a fish and chip shop, on a plate. I stood to walk across the kitchen to fetch a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer, and sat at the kitchen table was Dot Cotton, actress June Brown, of ''Eastenders'' fame. With the draw now open, I picked up a knife, she now stood by me went to grab it, I nearly stabbed myself and shouted at her. I then picked up a fork, and took my plate of fast food into the lounge.
Once in the lounge I sat down to eat, and there sat near me was a friend of mine, called Wil, who originates from Liverpool, an Evertonian. He said something, I can't recall what but I threatened to stab him with my fork, then woke up.
East end, London. Fast food, and stabbing as of knife and fork, and volatile behaviour.
There is a Liverpool St. station in London of course: and the last time we had an Eastenders character as written in emails was in 2005, before 7/7, where I pontificated 'East End'. Liverpool featured strongly that year too. Given the actress' name here, June to look at. A fast food incident London perhaps, as of Paris Jakarta and Brussels, fast food shops featured in all those incidents, fast food shops written extensively in email before this situation in Europe was as much as a thought. Numerology and synchronicity is gearing up again; I don't need to repeat myself over what I expect this next few months. It'll play out how and when it's meant to.
The above email, as the time stamp shows was sent April 26 2017 at 2:09. The recipients are Lorraine Worsley MBE DL, Lisa Armstrong David Pollock Stephen Mera and Professor Chris French. The mail a dream I called 'East End Fast Food'. It's my mum's house, so Steven take note of what you see, and do. Take note of the such powerful symbolism. That's how it works. So.
''I've had a dream where I was inside my mum's house, in the kitchen. I sat at the kitchen table, and fish chips and mushy peas was given to me, as of from a fish and chip shop, on a plate. I stood to walk across the kitchen to fetch a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer, and sat at the kitchen table was Dot Cotton, actress June Brown, of ''Eastenders'' fame. With the draw now open, I picked up a knife, she now stood by me went to grab it, I nearly stabbed myself and shouted at her. I then picked up a fork, and took my plate of fast food into the lounge.
Once in the lounge I sat down to eat, and there sat near me was a friend of mine, called Wil, who originates from Liverpool, an Evertonian. He said something, I can't recall what but I threatened to stab him with my fork, then woke up.
East end, London. Fast food, and stabbing as of knife and fork, and volatile behaviour.''
I got the 'East End' London from the actress in 'Eastenders' June Brown; as with the month, her forename 'June'. Food plated served very strong, kitchen too, cutlery and stabbing at one (June Brown) and threatening another (Wil Mayne, a friend of mine) with a fork. So suggesting volatile behaviour also in a stabbing / knives and food type scenario.
The same email finishes with:
There is a Liverpool St. station in London of course: and the last time we had an Eastenders character as written in emails was in 2005, before 7/7, where I pontificated 'East End'. Liverpool featured strongly that year too. Given the actress' name here, June to look at. A fast food incident London perhaps, as of Paris Jakarta and Brussels, fast food shops featured in all those incidents, fast food shops written extensively in email before this situation in Europe was as much as a thought. Numerology and synchronicity is gearing up again; I don't need to repeat myself over what I expect this next few months. It'll play out how and when it's meant to.
So I warn again look at London in June, especially given past experience.
In London in June, June 3rd 2017, (last year's Champion's League final night,) at a very well known food market, an area of restaurants offering the from finest cuisine to fish and chips, where the groovy London types go, there was a vicious terror attack making headlines around the world. The attackers came from the East End. They drove a hired van at a crowd and rampaged through the restaurants, hacking with knives and machetes. Diners died, there in June, by the knives of the East End Jihadi's.
Volatile behaviour London in June from the East End with knives. Diners murdered.
Of course since the April mail of Dot Cotton (June Brown) in me mum's kitchen Mrs Brown's boys (and girls) lost their mum. As for Wil mentioned here, whose dad Bill did the disco for my wedding reception at the same club where Skid had his. Bill lost his wife, Wil lost his mum.
I saw Wil had lost his mum scrolling through Facebook. At me mates place, September 10th 2017 in the East End of London....
The June 2017 London Bridge attack was an Islamic terrorist attack[8][9] in London, United Kingdom, on 3 June 2017 whereby a van left the road and struck a number of pedestrians on London Bridge. After the van crashed, its three occupants ran to the nearby Borough Market area and began stabbingpeople in and around restaurants and pubs.
Eight people were killed and 48 were injured, including four unarmed police officers who attempted to stop the assailants. The three attackers, who wore fake explosive vests, were later shot dead by police.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-40146916
On September 11th 2017 I rode the train through London to come home. Four days later an explosion on a train, in London. The first since 7/7. There but for the grace...
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-41278545
Footage shows a burning bag on board the Tube carriage at Parsons Green station
www.bbc.co.uk
Twenty-nine people are injured after an "improvised explosive device" was detonated on a District Line train in south-west London.
I released an ebook in 2015 of my life in 2012, finished just before the date I expected a huge terror hit (mails from the time prove this) the date I'd suggested to look at November 9th 2015. Friday 13th November 2015, four days later, a huge terror hit in Paris. The recipients of my email list? The anecdotes THEY could tell YOU with documented evidence to back it up? It's the very reason I don't tell many people about what I actually do. The fact that Islamic terror hits are now commonplace? The people mentioned here were warned about this very situation from as far back as 2003, personal friends of mine since 2001. The story of 9/11? my story and what happened? Anyone is welcome to ask. As with the email below, received in my inbox in 2012, from the very famous BBC man. What goods? What's he talking about?
B o o k
Alan Dedicoat
Reply |
Sun 30/09/2012 09:25
To:
'stevejohnson'
I’ll craft a few words for the book, if you’d like some, Steve. Not sure what they’ll be yet. We’ll see.
Would say ‘hope you’re well’, but you obviously are! And still coming up with the goods.
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