Guest Post: Gavin Marriott On London Songs And Music

London music

When I went to school in NZ, we had no TV, and so we played games like Monopoly. We were a musical family and on Saturday nights we had a talent quest or one of us organised a show. From the other side of the world I had certainly heard of the “British invasion” – the term for the pop groups of the day. I got into a band myself and learning their songs was expected.

So when I went to London in 1980 it all proved real. Getting dispatched to jobs from Ambulance Control was like they were using a Monopoly board.

Then our Chelsea station did a social trip to Dagenham to a pub where a band called The Tremeloes were playing. “How dare some local lads call themselves the same name as one of my favourite bands” I said to our organiser. I was persuaded to be sociable and so I went.
Well this band poked into the pub corner started off with a Tremeloes hit and sounded and looked like them. Gobsmacked I yelled at my workmates “This is The Tremeloes”. They all laughed saying “how come you have heard of them?” The band heard this and said “You sound like a Kiwi. We are number 1 over there. Would you like a request?” So I rattled off all their hits and my workmates were speechless.

There are so many things I loved about London. I have London pictures etc in my house. When Pete puts his nostalgic posts on here, my tears raise the Thames each time.

But there’s another part of London that’s unique and that’s its music.

A good question to ask is how many songs there are? Thousands. I will rattle off some and you can look them up yourselves or comment on your own favourites – and there will be many of all genres.

A Foggy Day in London Town by Gershwin, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square by Vera Lynn, Any Old Iron by Harry Champion, Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty, Burlington Bertie from Bow by Herbie Flowers, Carry On London by Billy Cotton, Changing the Guards at Buckingham Palace, Dark Streets of London by The Pogues, Dedicated Follower of Fashion by The Kinks, Donald Where’s Your troosers by Andy Stewart (“I went down to London Town I had some fun in the underground”), England Swings by Roger Miller, Finchley Central by New Vaudeville Band, In A Golden Coach by Billy Cotton, Itchycoo Park (Little Ilford Park) by Small Faces, It’s a Long Way to Tipperary, Kew Gardens by Ralph McTell, Knees Up Mother Brown, Knocked ’em in the Old Kent Rd by Albert Chevalier, The Lambeth Walk, Last Night in Soho by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich, Last Train to London by ELO, London Bridge is Falling Down, London‘s Burning, London Pride by Noël Coward, Maybe It’s Because I’m a Londoner by Hubert Gregg, Old Father Thames, Paddington Bear by Bernard Cribbins, Petticoat Lane by Stanley Holloway, Puttin’ on The Ritz by Irving Berlin, Rainy Night in Soho by The Pogues, Streets of London by Ralph McTell, Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks, Werewolves of London, West End Girls by Pet Shop Boys, When the Lights Go Up in London by Hubert Gregg, The Wombles, (lots of songs about Piccadilly & Soho)

Then there are military band items like London Calling by Eric Coates, Birdcage Walk, Down the Mall, Knightsbridge and the Yeoman of the Guard by Gilbert & Sullivan.

NZ Firsts: A Guest Post From Gavin Marriott

Not many of us know that much about New Zealand. In this short post, Gavin gives us some interesting facts about his country, and includes video clips too.

NZ firsts

Firstly! We always abbreviate New Zealand as NZ.

Zealand is a place in Holland so named courtesy of Dutch discoverer Abel Tasman in 1642. But he never set foot. That was Yorkshireman James Cook in 1769.

We get known as Kiwis after our national bird. Now to most in Europe & America, NZ gets lumped under the banner of our neighbour Australia. In London I got asked if there was a bridge between the two islands. There is a thousand mile ditch between the two, and politically Australia & NZ are like England & France or USA & Canada. We actually don’t get on well together. Yes Aussie beat us at sports (we drink out of saucers apparently as they have all the cups). Mutton and wool are still major exports and so we can’t get away from the international sheep jokes. But most now know us as Peter Jackson and the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit. But little NZ of 5 million people (land mass just bigger than Britain) has some amazing world firsts.

☻ With international time zones, we are the first to see the sun each day. Yes tourists flock to a town called Gisborne and take a photo of the sun rising out of the sea and send it to their friends in Europe who are now turning their lights on the night before or to LA having lunch the day before.

☻ 1893 NZ were the first to give women the vote.

☻ 1899 the first to work an 8 hour day (we still celebrate that as a public holiday).

☻ 1917 Ernest Rutherford split the atom. There is a memorial where his house was in Nelson and near me you can visit his studio at the old university.

☻ 1939 NZ declared war with Germany first, before Britain (because of the time zone).

☻ 1953 Edmund Hillary was the first to climb the highest peak. I have met Hillary. He trained for his climbing with my uncle. A photo of them stands proudly in my lounge.

☻ 1954 Bill Hamilton invented the jet boat unit which is used now all over the world. The Hamilton Jet powers many of the British ferries and now the RNLI boats. Bill came from my 2nd home town of Fairlie and currently I am leading a project to get a statue for him.

☻ 1987 AJ Hackett invented bungy jumping and made headlines by jumping from the Eiffel Tower. Now tourists flock here to jump off our bridges – and they pay to do it.

☻ 1999 the first transgender MP.

☻ By the way the famous McLaren F1 racing car, that was Bruce McLaren from Auckland, whom I met at school.

☻ But I go back to Richard Pearse. Kiwis will tell you he was the first to fly (the Kiwi is a flightless bird so some pun). I go past where he flew quite often and also visit his grave as it is near my uncle. Richard died the year I was born.
Witness accounts (later as affidavits) state his flights were “after, during or before” certain events like weather, wars, visits, the teacher etc. Some of these put his flight as 1902 but they were uncontrolled flights. But it is recorded that his first controlled flight was March 1903. As he was doing this in a remote part of the South Island away from the world eyes and media communication, he got pushed aside.

This clip can be watched on You Tube by clicking on the link.

Guest Post: Gavin Marriott On Scottish Independence

In 2014, Scotland was allowed to conduct a referendum to become an independent country. Over 55% of eligible voters chose to vote to stay in the United Kingdom. But the issue never went away, and the current leader of the devolved Scottish Parliament, Nicola Sturgeon, has announced another referendum, which will take place in October 2023. In this short guest post, Gavin considers the issues around the defence of both an independent Scotland, and the rest of Great Britain, should the vote be different next time.

Scottish independence and defence. Gavin Marriott

Due to an event during my time in the London Ambulance Service in the early 80s, I have a close association with a small part of the UK armed forces.
In 2014, I was their guest for the ceremonies for the beginning of the WW1 centenary in London and Belgium, and I did a trip around Scotland. I have Scottish blood in me. The bagpipes do something positive to my cardiovascular system.

But all this coincided with the Scottish independence vote, and I had to be careful raising discussion with arch rivals literally sitting either side of me. And there were times you could have cut the air above me with a blunt knife.

With Brexit and other events, the independence vote is on the agenda again. I will not discuss the pros nor cons or even contemplate a view. But in this discussion, I want to focus on an aspect ignored in the consequence of independence, and that is Defence.

It is more than a case of giving the Scots Guards to Scotland. Those guardsmen are mainly English or from the commonwealth anyway. Firstly, an independent Scotland would have to apply to join the EU & NATO. To not join either would be unthinkable. But joining would take years with criteria and hoops to meet – like having a 2% of GDP spend on its military.

The Scottish Parliament has made it abundantly clear, the Trident nuclear submarine base on the Clyde would leave Scotland. These are Britain’s major defence deterrent. There is nowhere else in Britain with the deep water to house theses subs and to shift them to America would have to be considered at a cost of multi billions and Scottish job losses.
The same with RAF Lossiemouth which has Britain’s entire maritime patrol and early warning aircraft stationed there. There are also British radar installations which would need moving.

So why are the subs, aircraft and radar based in Scotland? Because Scotland is closest to the threat of Russia (North Sea, Norwegian Sea and the Atlantic) and would be the first attacked. It is sparsely populated and would be easy pickings. Scotland is 32% of the UK landmass and has a coastline of over 10,000 miles. So its in Scotland’s favour for Britain to have these facilities in Scotland. It allows any threat to be spotted far away and intercepted in time (and Russia often tests this).
Scotland not having these assets would affect its NATO membership and Scotland not being part of NATO would leave it open to a Russian takeover. That would threaten England. So there could be more tension than football rivalry.

With major UK bases in Scotland and Scotland building warships, they gain a lot financially from UK’s combined military. Also what about the Scots that make up 15% of the UK military yet only have 8% of the UK population. What would there be for them in Scotland?

Look at a country with a similar population, New Zealand. We have no fighter aircraft, only 2 warships and only 2 regular infantry battalions. But we are in close cooperation with Australia and we do have 4 of the latest maritime patrol planes. Scotland would need more than 4 (The RAF have 9). Belgium and Netherlands now have a joint military squadron and the British and French aircraft carriers are compatible. Could Scotland be independent with an English or American military alliance. It would have to keep the subs for that.

So could Scotland go it alone??

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Guest Post – #Marriage – I Wish I Knew Then What I Know Now! by Pete Johnson (Beetley Pete)

On the 23rd, I was delighted to be featured on the blog of the lovely Sally Cronin. A nostalgic piece from me, and a warning to others not to make the same mistakes.

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

I am sure like me, there have been times when you have wondered what difference might have been made to your life, if your younger self had been gifted with the experience and knowledge you have accumulated over the years.

I invited several friends from the writing community to share their thoughts on this subject which I am sure you will enjoy as much as I did.

I Wish I Knew Then What I Know Now – Marriage by Pete Johnson

When I was a teenager in London, I took it for granted that I would get married. After a long relationship that started in my early teens didn’t work out, I started seeing someone else when I was 22, and that developed well. We got married in 1977, when we were both 25. We had good jobs, sufficient disposable income, and bought a nice flat in a desirable area…

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Guest Post: David Miller

American blogger and author David Miller will be familiar to many of you from his ‘punning’ comments on my posts as ‘lividemerald’.
Over on his own blog, he specialises in limericks, and also photos of Nevada, where he lives.
Today, he has sent me some jokes, to lighten the mood.


“It’s really hot in Hell today.”
“Yeah, so what else is new?”

“Another hot day in Hell.”
“You can say that again!”

“The weatherman is saying that Hell is going to freeze over tonight.”
“You must be new here. The sun never sets.”

“There’s a post office in Hell?”
“Of course! Now, hurry up! Go buy me some Forever Stamps!”

“You mean there’s a bowling alley in Hell?”
“You bet there is!”
“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

“I heard the Devil bought a Pomeranian and named it Snowball.”
“You heard wrong. He bought a Pit Bull and named it Fuego.”

“Mom, I have a new pen pal from Down Under!”
“Oh, I’m so happy for you! What’s his name?”
“Bubby Beelze!”

Train Station Announcer: “All aboard the soul train!”
Husband: “Oh, man! I’m dying to get on that train!”
Wife: “That’s the spirit!”
Husband: “I just hope the train arrives on time.”
Wife: “Where you’re going, it’s never late.”
Husband: “I’ve heard it’s the best way to go.”
Wife: “Absolutely!”
Husband: “I also heard that Mr. Thorn is one hell of a train conductor!”
Wife: “No doubt.”
Husband: “The only thing is, I’m a little worried about the hotel.”
Wife: “Why is that?”
Husband: “No fire escape.”


Guest Post: Gavin Marriott

Motorcycling Madness

With 5 deaths the other day – bringing the total now to 265 – the Isle of Man TT “race” again draws the shaking of heads from us normal of the species.
For those that don’t know much about this, it is one of the world’s most famous sporting events where a normal road is closed for “participants” to race over a 1,300ft high mountainous circuit of 37 miles with over 200 turns at over 130mph.

Any ambulanceman will tell you of the motorcycle crashes they’ve attended – well they won’t actually, they’ve attended so many they lose count and forget – usually fractured femurs. I have never understood the madness of putting my whole life on 2 wheels where the amount of rubber actually touching the road would surprise you (about the size of a matchbox) but the worst part is with cornering there is a gravity factor as well. On a motorbike, speed is necessary to counteract gravity.

For over a century the media and tourists flock to his wee island to see a glimpse (all you can see) of a flashing bike race past – to their often doom. Yes it is a basic human right to be free to choose what you do with your own body. The risks and the consequences are well known yet riders keep coming back. Why? To say “they’ve done it”.

By the way, there are 7 funeral firms on the island. Just saying.

Guest Post: Gavin Marriott

I used to know Gavin in London, where he worked as an EMT before returning to his native New Zealand. He has been in touch recently, and sent me this short guest post about his trip to Samoa.

A decade ago I visited Samoa, a four hour plane ride from New Zealand, to visit the place where my mum and dad met. That story is interesting. Dad was an armed NZ policeman during WW2 and mum a NZ nurse. On arrival, dad had to line up to get his vaccination and mum gave it – literally I’m the prick as a result.

The Samoans have no armed forces. The church protects them.

Gavin’s father in 1982, and Gavin at the same spot in 2012.

I got the clear message that China was muscling in back then. They had paid for a hospital, provided new ambulances (over NZ second hand ones) and proposed to build a deep water port and lengthen the runway. It was obvious to me why. But the world stood unconcerned.

The South Pacific spans over 15% of the world’s surface with a small population spread over many sovereign nations, some French, some New Zealand including being in the British Commonwealth – such as Fiji, Kiribati, Nauru, New Caledonia, Solomons, Tonga, Tuvalu, Vanuatu and technically New Zealand. If the 2 ice caps melt much more, then the Pacific will rise and flood these nations out of existence. Many of these islanders are moving to New Zealand now – look at the make up of our All Blacks team. The west has done nothing because it doesn’t learn about the Pacific at school.

China has just done a full security deal with the Solomons, including providing their police force. This is a total threat to neighbour Australia. Like a pack of cards, China has today signed a deal with Samoa and Fiji. The rest will follow. Plus of course getting Taiwan back.

China has clear intentions of establishing multiple air and sea bases in the Pacific. Ironically, while Britain had no maritime air patrol from 2010 to 2020, Canada, Australia and New Zealand did the patrolling for Britain. Britain may have to return the favour.

My Own Guest Post

In 2017, I was asked to write a guest post on another blog, Esme Salon.

This was the post I submitted five years ago. Some of you may have seen it on her blog.

I lived in London for sixty years. Born and raised in the dockside area just south of Tower Bridge, it was all I knew. I grew up there, went to school there, and got married there. Like most people, I moved around. It’s a big city, lots to see, and all the districts are different. I lived in middle-class areas, upper-class areas, and cramped rented flats too. After two divorces, and a geographic circuit of the Capital, I spent the last twelve years in the trendy confines of Camden Town, a stone’s throw from the centre.

I worked there too. One third of my life as an EMT, dealing with the demands of a population of over seven million, plus the tourists and commuters. The next fifth of my life spent working for the police, a total of thirty-four years in the emergency services, dealing with every bad thing that one of the biggest cities in the world can throw at you. By the age of fifty-nine, I was worn out. London is not really a place that you live in. It is something you endure, somewhere you survive. You learn to live by its rules. Don’t use a car unless you really have to. Don’t flaunt anything, and walk straight, catch nobody’s eye. Never back down. Only fools speak to strangers, and only tourists or children sit on the top deck of the bus.

Oh, it has its perks. Restaurants, cinemas, bars, theatres. Lots of them, everywhere. Shops, shops, and more shops. You can buy anything you want, but not always what you need. You are a small fish in an enormous shoal, so unlucky if a predator spots you. Stick with the crowd, and you will get by, unnoticed. But forget trying to sleep. Sirens, helicopters, 24-hour life and transport, with ambient light so bright it feels like the sun never sets. Always tired, struggling through one day to the next, in the relentless pace demanded by city life.

Retirement loomed as I approached sixty. Time for a change. London is no place to be old.

So, we bought a house in Norfolk. Only 120 miles north-east, but it might as well be in another country, and at another time. A drive of just over three hours by car takes you back over fifty years in the process. We settled in a place where people still say “Hello” as they walk past. Where a parcel left outside your door is still there, a week later. You don’t have to lock your car, and you could probably leave your doors unlocked too. Children don’t follow old people to mock them, but to help them. Your neighbours help out, and are happy to ask for a favour in return. Traffic jams are but a memory, and within twenty minutes drive, we can be standing on a deserted beach.

And the house cost less than the price of a lock-up garage, in the street we happily left behind.

It’s not all perfect, nothing is. Public transport is almost non-existent, and I have to travel twenty miles to buy a decent shirt, or to find a good street market. There is one cinema, and the choice of places to eat is limited by the modest expectations of local people. No local shop, and no real village centre, so it is not easy to meet new people. But it is dark at night, and I can see the stars, for the first time other than when on holiday. I can walk my dog past wild deer, and watch fish jumping in the river. I feel like I live in an England that I only ever read about in history books.

And I know which place I prefer.

Guest Post And Featured Blogger: Narayanan Uma

I am presenting a guest post today from Indian blogger, Narayanan.
His site is

Here is his short bio, followed by his guest post. Please visit his blog to see more about his life and thoughts.

I am Narayanan, a publishing professional with deep interest in philosophy, comparative religion and political thought. I work on topics that present an opportunity to evaluate issues critically and offer an alternative view point.

A pillion ride with the pizza delivery boy

Any time is pizza time.

Having spent 20 unsuccessful minutes waiting to hire an auto, I grudgingly decided to walk the three kilometre route back home from the vaccination centre. Since employing the jazzed arm muscle immediately after a Covid preventive shot may not be a great idea, I left the car at home, got myself dropped at the centre by a considerate neighbour and happily joined the expanding tribe of the fully inoculated before I was stranded on the roadside desperately looking for a transport back. Just as I made a few hesitant strides, a bike from behind stopped aside and the youngster, lifting the glass shield of his headgear, asked me “ Sir, can I drop you somewhere?”. With the logo of the company prominently on display on his T-shirt and a bulged backpack firmly secured on him, I knew that he was a pizza delivery boy zipping through to make the next delivery of the delicacy and satiate the pangs of hunger of a starving soul. Since his immediate call of destination fell close to the place of my residence, I happily accepted the offer and squeezed myself on the bike, with the backpack sandwiched between the two of us. “Make yourself comfortable Sir” said the compassionate boy as he moved himself forward, almost sitting on the fuel tank, to create a little more space to accommodate my large body and soon we were on wheels!

Though the posture of my sitting was anything but comfortable, the spicy aroma emanating from the hot pizzas inside was so invigorating that I soon began to enjoy the ride, clasping the bag with my two hands and taking in the warmth of the stuff. “It should be farmhouse pizza that is selling most in this monsoon season” I made an informed guess to the boy based on the cocktail of smells of crispy capsicums and fresh tomatoes that was filling my nostrils along with the flavour of that baked oregano. “ Yes sir that is always the favourite but the Mexican and the Tandoori Paneer are also in great demand”. “ Oh that would mean that the business is brisk… so how many pizzas you usually deliver in a day” I continued the conversation with my probing questions and the boy was more than willing to indulge. “ Around 15 to 20 sir and after putting in twelve long hours of work, my earning is just about Rs. 400- 500 a day. I get Rs.25 per delivery” there was a tinge of lament in his voice as he said this adding “and the petrol expenses is all on me”. “ But I am sure customers would be tipping you handsomely when you deliver these hot pizzas at their doorsteps”. “ Nothing much sir and maybe an occasional ten or twenty rupees. In these difficult times, not many are willing to shell out anything extra and some even ask back for the exact change after deducting the amount” . “ Is that so…that’s very mean” I sympathised with the boy as he continued “ The other day, one customer held back my bag till I returned the excess two rupees fifty paise that wasn’t readily available with me. Some even cancel the order if I am late by a few minutes and I will be made to pay a penalty for that”. “ Oh life is tough” I agreed with him as I struggled to balance myself as he negotiated a deep pot hole in the middle of the road to avoid splashing from the muddy rain water puddle.

“ Riding in these roads constantly is laden with much risk and how are you protected? Do you have a medical claim or an insurance policy?” I turned concerned and animated now as I became aware of his daily professional hazards. “ Insurance? We don’t have anything of that sort and if some mishap were to happen, the responsibility is entirely on to me. I am doing this job only for my survival” the helplessness of the boy was too evident to ignore. “ How long have you been doing this?” I pressed him for an answer presuming that he would be new to the job. “ Almost two years now, joined just before the pandemic struck. I really wanted to change but as most of the factories are in bad shape, no company is taking any new staff now.”

“You speak so very well and I am sure you would be a matriculation pass” I prompted him to reveal his educational background not very sure whether he would have achieved that significant academic milestone that I just mentioned. “ Sir, I am a science graduate and studied physics and mathematics as my subjects. I will share my certificate with you on WhatsApp” he stopped the vehicle as he said this, having reached our common destination. Never before was so much revelation squeezed in a three kilometer ride, of ordinary people we meet everyday but know very little about…and in five minutes!

As I got down from the bike with some assistance from the boy, I thanked him profusely for his timely help. “ No problem sir” was his disarming reply as I shared my mobile number for him to send me the image of his degree certificate. “ That’s my degree certificate. Please help me get a decent job” requested the boy on hearing the peep of the WhatsApp message alert on my mobile. “ Sure, I will definitely try” was all I could muster to utter looking at the genuineness of his academic achievements!

“Thank you sir” said the boy in all smiles displaying in the process the whole array of his white teeth that resembled a lavish dose of mozzarella on a cheese burst pizza!



( 1 USD ~ 74 rupees)

Guest Post And Featured Blogger: Megha Gupta

Megha is originally from India, and now lives in Holland. She has been blogging for some time now, and is still not getting as much interaction as she would like. I am happy to present her guest post today, and hope that many of you will visit her blog and read more.


Dear all,
I am Megha. (Mythologically meaning cloud. Not Mega (as they like to spell my name in Starbucks)
I started my blog ( two years ago with an aspiration to get better at writing. My blog was first introduced by Pete in 2020 and I am thankful to him for his generosity.

My blog is my creative hub that helps me make sense of the world. My writings are inspired from my day-to-day life.
Personally, I have keen interest in psychology and Human behaviour. I would like to write more about it.
I love travelling. I am an avid reader and I love solving problems. (Assuming there is a problem to solve of course) 🙂
This blog really is a guinea pig of my creative ability.
Feel free to judge and share some feedback.

Keen to hear your thoughts.


Ever met someone in your life whose sole purpose of living seemed to compete?
Did you not wonder what keeps them going?
What was it with their unstoppable desire for power?
When would they be at peace?

I was born in a third world country where competition was inculcated from a naive age. It was hard to do things for the sake of doing. You did what you did coz it earned something. Everything else was deemed worthless.

Competition was a requisite to earn money. Money meant success and success brought happiness. Wasn’t that the key to living?
At least that’s what I grew up believing!

Later in my twenties, I moved to Europe.
I was amazed with the pace of life. Honestly, taken aback a bit. 🙄
People were satisfied with what they had. It didn’t matter what you did coz whatever you did earned a living. With that being sorted, there was time to discover likes (& dislikes). Whatever that meant! 🧘‍♂️ Success was more than money. It didn’t mean relentless chasing.

For the first time in many years, I stopped to examine the purpose of living.
What I learned in the process helped me pin down the roots of competition. In this post, I share my hard earned two cents of wisdom.

Comparison drives competition.

“What do you want?” is a scary question for most people. We are barely aware of what we want in life, let alone understand our purpose of living.

People define success by looking at what others want. Their concept of self-worth is based on external validation. As they compare and compete, surreal benchmarks of happiness get defined each day.

Key to remember though is that comparison comes from a place of insecurity. When we’re not sure of what we want, we look at what others want.

If we don’t ourselves define the meaning of success and happiness, it gets defined for us.
Competition can then become an endless chase, a misery.

Competition, my mate is driven by Ego (mostly).
You’d be lying to say you have no ego. It’s that part of your personality that protects your unique identity. When “me” starts feeling put down, the competitive side kicks in. You won’t care what others think, say or feel, coz you’d want to believe you are right. You’d compete to prove yourself, to re-assure your identity. (to save your ego)

But does that make it a wrong reason? Err… I say no.
Ego is merely a self defence mechanism to protect your emotional well being. All it does is reinstate the fact that YOU exist, you are unique and you are right. It therefore drives you to compete, to put yourself out there in that chaotic world, where everyone else is also learning to co-exist.

Beware that some people are more egoistic than others. Naturally, they are therefore more competitive. Extreme ego leads to narcissism – one of the traits of overly competitive.

So, how do you know if you are an overly competitive person?

So one thing I’ve learned is that there is nothing wrong in being competitive.
Competition gives you a nudge to be your best self.
Being overly competitive though is problematic.
It affects YOU (without you realising it) and those around you (without you acknowledging it).

Ask yourself three questions.
1. Are you constantly thinking about getting ahead of someone?
2. You don’t worry how others feel about your chase?
3. Do you feel stressed emotionally and maybe physically?

If the answer to any of the above is yes, then you my mate are overly competitive. You are far from knowing your true purpose and cutting the chase is necessary.

Are you a sufferer making those around you suffer? (Irony, that is).

What would it take for you to realise this?