Ollie Ollerton - Battle Ready: Eliminate Doubt, Embrace Courage, Transform Your Life

BATTLE READY

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Break Point

Published by Blink Publishing

801 Wimpole Street,

London,

W1G 9RE

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Hardback 9781788703369

Trade Paperback 9781788703376

Ebook 9781788703390

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or circulated in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing of the publisher.

A CIP catalogue of this book is available from the British Library.

Designed and set by seagulls.net

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Copyright Matthew Ollerton, 2020

Matthew Ollerton has asserted his moral right to be identifiedas the author of this work in accordance with the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.

Blink Publishing is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

www.bonnierbooks.co.uk

This book is dedicated to every person that reads these pages. To all that have dreamed big and failed, to all that fall foul to procrastination and hesitation and to those that have lost their way.

To every living soul that strives for greatness and feels uneasy in this modern world, constantly repeating cycles that make no sense at all.

This book serves as a guide to put all that read its words back on track, focused and proud of who they are.

Surrender to yourself and fortune will prevail.

Nothing in life was ever great, unless at some point you doubted your ability to achieve it.

Ollie Ollerton

CONTENTS

THE PROMISE

I ,

on this day, state my intention to achieve

and give my personal promise to follow the programme I have designed for myself. For the duration of the programme I will remain focused and disciplined, implementing and executing all my designs to the best of my ability. I will become Battle Ready.

Signed

(See page 202 for more information on making a contract with yourself.)

I ts a scorcher of a summers day and me, my brother Justin and mate James are wandering into town to the baths to cool down. Its the eighties, we dont have computer games that are worth staying inside for, our domain is the outdoors. As we cross a bridge over the River Trent, the air is buzzing with dragonflies. As we watch them skimming like Hueys over the water, we notice a circus being set up on a patch of nearby wasteland; a huge Big Top being hauled into the sky, its striped canvas skin flapping like ships sails among the rigging of cables. We walk around the brightly coloured tents, their guy ropes taut with pegs hammered into the dry summer grass. I smell candyfloss and diesel in the breezeless air and my stomach wheels with excitement. The circus... theres something electric and dangerous about it. Those apparently obedient wild animals can at any moment break their training habits, go feral and turn on the audience, the lions bursting through the pathetic-looking caged barriers hurriedly set up around the stage perimeter.

We hear elephants trumpeting somewhere in the background as we come across an outer circle of caravans and trailers where the performers live, the air now threaded with the aromas of fried onions and hot dogs. Jogging along with excitement, we come across a circus worker with a friendly face by the entrance to the circus and ask if we can have a nose about the animals. The nostalgic glint in his eye, which makes me think he must be remembering his own childhood, says, yes before hes even opened his gob. Of course you can, lads, and its rich pickings here for three intrepid, adventure-hungry boys. Roll up, roll up try your luck on the One-Arm Bandits, test your strength and wield the mighty mallet on the Strongman Game, win a giant cuddly Spiderman toy at the Shooting Gallery, or maybe just go and snoop around the animal cages...

He simply says, Yes, of course you can. The animals are on chains so dont worry.

And thats all the encouragement we need as we race off through a labyrinth of grassy pathways between the tents. Its amazing how different our town feels with the arrival of the circus, as if having passed through exotic lands it brings with it some of their magic and the promise of escape. And heres Justin, James and me, three lucky lads being granted a VIP backstage pass.

First up we follow the noise of the elephants, finding them in a large dark tent that whiffs of pissed-on sawdust. The next tent I wander into chatters with mean little monkeys with sharp canine teeth. The little fuckers hiss as I pass by. Entranced by my rare glimpse of this secret other world, Ive drifted away from the others and become separated from them. Through a loose flap of the canvas tent whose eyeholes are still to be laced up, I spot something moving in a patch of sunshine outside. Curiosity gets the better of me as I poke my head out in the sunshine like a mole blinking at the light. Jesus, its hot today!

I wriggle under the canvas into the grassy clearing; its completely hemmed in by tents and circus vehicles. In this private little oasis spilling with sunshine sits a tiny chimp eating a pile of fruit. He looks like one of the monkeys on the PG Tips adverts on telly where they dress them in human clothes. He glances at me as I stand towering over him, his little brown eyes trusting and innocent, and then he glances back at the fruit between his fingers. He has soft little hands and tiny nails just like a humans, huge comical ears that are translucent pink with brilliant sunshine flooding through them, and his tufty hair is brown one moment then jet-black as he shifts a little from the suns glare into shadow. It feels as if time has stood still and the Earth has stopped spinning. But for the baby and I looking into one anothers eyes, everything else is non-existent.

It feels like such a privilege, Im completely hypnotised by him. Ill never forget this moment. Then the little fella chuckles, holds out the banana hes been chewing and offers me a bit. I gratefully receive it with a smile and, so as not to upset him, pretend to eat it before discreetly chucking it over my shoulder. This takes things to the next level. Now we are officially friends Ollie Ollerton, Burton-on-Trents very own Tarzan, King of the Jungle.

Something shifts in my ten-year-olds peripheral vision, like a black bin bag blown by the breeze. It disappears under the colourful livery of a Foden lorry, reappearing a moment later in a blur of darkness and sunlight. But there is no breeze, its hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement. The bin bag suddenly grows massive arms corded with muscle, and bolts toward me in a weird sideways gallop a Space Invader covered in fur and the air is split by a furious, high-pitched scream that cuts through me like someone dragging their fingernails on a blackboard. The beasts coat is so black it appears almost purple in the sunlight, its eyes two points of fire buried in its skull, while its foaming lips peel back to reveal razor-sharp teeth. It crosses my mind that it might be the babys mother. It also dawns on me Im frozen with fear and cannot move.

Im transfixed, the breath captive in my lungs as I watch this terrifying beast hurling toward me, its eyes full of hate.