Birth

Rachel, one-hour old

I believe that it was the French author; novelist and poet, Victor Hugo that once said, "nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come." For myself an idea had already been firmly planted in my head; May 18th 1986 was the day I would deliver. Please allow me  to tell you all about it.

It was a glorious spring afternoon and I'd arranged to visit my lovely wife Alison who was recuperating at our local hospital. It wasn’t because she was suffering with any specific ailment or affliction, but because she had recently given birth to our first child, a gorgeous 8lb 2oz baby girl named Rachel.

It was a warm hazy afternoon with a gentle wind blowing as we leisurely strolled around the grounds of the hospital. We talked and laughed about how fortunate Alison was to only endure a three-hour labour. The other funny-story was how I almost passed-out just moments before the birth, the midwife quietly informing me, "if you leave us now Mr. Ducker you'll miss it."

As we walked around the beautiful organised garden, I wanted to inform Alison about an idea that I'd recently been orchestrating in my mind. I had originally been planning to tell her long before this moment, but decided it might be best to wait a while. My thinking was that any sudden surprise or shock before the baby's birth date might cause undue stress to mother and child.

The moment felt right. I stopped, turned and looked at Alison. The sun was shining directly onto our faces. It felt like a magic moment, similar to scene out of an epic movie. I slowly turned into the sunlight and looked into my wife’s eyes. My words slowly immersed as I gradually spelt out my intentions. I told her….. "I'm going to open up my own Martial Art School."

After delivering the news I stood back and awaited Alison's response. I smiled nervously and eagerly awaited her reaction. I could see that she had a blank look on her face; my words were gradually filtering into the depths of her mind. It was only a matter of a few seconds before I received her reply.  "You can't we've just had a baby." she protested.

Despite her best efforts to make me see sense, Alison quietly knew, deep down inside that nothing or no one could hold me back from fulfilling my dream. It was certainly an idea whose time had come. From that moment onwards we both recognised that our first Martial Art School had just been born. 

It was a decision that would not only change our own lives forever, but inadvertently many other peoples lives as well. 

Daydreamer

I have to admit I’ve always been a bit of a daydreamer. My teacher at school would often yell out  “hey you boy...bring your attention back to the room.” It was here that my imagination would often run wild; planning, thinking, scheming, and visualising the many things that I’d rather be doing.

As a school-kid I was always interested in learning about the famous British explorers, like Sir Walter Raleigh and Captain James Cook.  I also loved reading about fascinating destinations and trying to understand about different cultures around the world; hence the reason I always enjoyed my history and geography lessons at school.

I left formal education behind at the age of fifteen, without any real major qualifications to talk about. At the time I didn't really care about exam results etc, even though I recognised that I had potential to do greater things. All I wanted was to venture out and earn myself some money.

Finding suitable work was relatively tough to start off with. Thanks to a close friend I did manage to find myself a job working at a local clothing factory, cutting out material for the female machinists. The job was relatively monotonous and boring, however on the plus-side, it was very close to home and also paid reasonably good wages for unqualified labour.

I continued to work here for about five-years, until one-day quite unexpectedly my boss called me into his office. He explained, that because the company was experiencing financial difficulties, they had no option but to make me  redundant. 

At the time this was a massive blow. My dismissal made me feel rejected and unwanted, it also did very little to boost my already wilting self-esteem. However, looking back it was probably the best kick-up-the-backside anyone could have wanted. This negative situation made me completely step-out of my comfort zone.

I searched through the newspapers for work, as well as visiting the local job centre. There was nothing available. My next plan was to venture out into the local High Street. I was going to make it my mission to visit every business and workplace in the town where I lived. I focused at starting at one end of the High Street and walking my through to the other end.

Making my passageway  through the town’s thoroughfare, I was rejected many times over. Despite these constant setbacks I somehow remained optimistic. I never allowed my head or spirit to drop, I just had total faith and confidence in myself. Intuitively I knew that if I kept on going something positive would materialise.

Thankfully my persistence paid off, about halfway along the street the manager of a local hardware store must have liked the look of my face. He informed me of a vacant position that had just arisen. There-and-then he hired me on the spot as his next sales assistant.

Initially I really liked my occupation as a shop sales assistant. It taught me a lot about selling household goods and how to deal with people, however after a while it all became a bit tiresome, I felt subservient trying to satisfy each and every customers individual needs  and I was often treated harshly, which I really disliked.

I carried on working at the shop for nearly two years, before one-day deciding to call it a day. I made a significant decision to become self-employed, working alongside my dad as painter & decorator. He'd done this line of work for much of his life and had plenty of experience in the trade; however starting our own business was something completely new for the both of us.

This venture progressed nicely for a couple of years, until my father finally announced that he was going to retire. I couldn’t blame him for this decision as he’d worked hard for most of his life, including serving in the British Army during the Second World War. At the age of sixty-seven years old and suffering poorly with arthritis, he fully deserved to take life a little easier.

  

Not long afterwards I found myself sub-contracting with another painter & decorator. He was a nice gentleman and a devote Jehovah’s Witness. Despite his stalwart religious beliefs he seemed a pretty decent chap and an excellent tradesman. My work was virtually the same as before, however there was something missing. I came to the conclusion that as far as my occupation was concerned I didn't really feel that I was achieving any major goals or ambitions.

Several months into my new job I noticed my 'daydreaming' journeys started to return. I remember being given a simple task of painting a large external wall. It was an extremely hot day and I wasn’t looking forward to standing against the wall being roasted for few hours. The job was very straightforward and required very little thought or attention.

I gathered my brushes and stood their gazing at the blank surface. I pondered to myself - not another dreary task to perform. It wasn’t until I started the job that I began to realise that this blank wall had become like a movie screen - right in front of my very eyes I could see the mental images from my mind being played out.

A week or so beforehand I'd just been awarded my 1^st degree black belt; my thoughts concerning this accomplishment were still fresh in my mind. I loved the martial arts and could virtually see myself having my very own full-time martial art school. I witnessed myself teaching hundreds of students, I smelt the aroma of the training hall, I could even hear applauding parents and a full class of students yelling really loud.

As I progressed further along the wall, my thoughts continued to flow. I saw myself teaching the martial arts at a variety of different locations. I was training people privately, travelling the length and breadth of the UK and eventually practising in other countries as well. It all seemed so real.

After what appeared to be like only a few minutes, I'd completed the task of painting the brick wall. Afterwards, I felt this strange sensation bubbling up inside of me. I had stimulated some kind of energy coming from the depth of my soul, an emotion, an excitement like I’d never experienced before. It was a feeling, which just wouldn’t go away.

Several weeks later, I thought that I should try and have a chat with my boss. He always seemed a compassionate and understanding type of person. During one particular mid-morning tea-break I managed to find a moment to sit down and discuss my thoughts and feelings with him.

I courageously informed him that I was really fed with my current circumstances and I told him that I had other ideas. I said that I felt unfulfilled, I also explained that I had ambitions of becoming a "Professional Martial Arts Instructor.” I then suddenly blurted out everything that I’d pictured while I'd been painting the wall.

After this sudden outburst of emotion, I remember my boss sitting there with his mouth open wide, his expression seemed to depict exactly what was going on his mind. I suddenly realised what he was thinking.......... this young man is crazy and in desperate need of psychiatric help.