Happy New Year.

This is not the New Years Eve I'd have chosen for myself.
I'd have been with friends, eating and drinking. Relaxed, music, and time for one another.
But I was working today, and I'm working tomorrow. So I'm alone, and an early night beckons.

It is what it is.

It's not what I'd have picked, but it is what I have, so I will enjoy it.

May the coming year bring you happiness, in whatever form you desire.

Love

Confused.

My mum knew who I was, but couldn't remember my name.
I'll take that... its choking me up now, managed to hold the tears in while I was there in case I upset her.

I've not been in the mood to write anything at the moment.
Losing £100, seeing a woman who I thought was my mum for a moment in a distant city, the workmates getting another easy weekend when the plant broke down again (of course its been fixed in time for my shift again), and general... stuff... has left me deciding that I'm not writing anymore for a while.

A week, maybe two, maybe more. I don't know.

Bye for now.

I'm trying to remember that its not as bad as I think.

Some people have it much worse. Remember that, and try to give a little.

However being told that you are 'money-grabbing' because you're reluctant to take on a huge amount of responsibility and extra work for free... is a little stressful.

What a difference a week makes...

One week you're drinking cocktails and chatting to theatrical dancers, the next you're being told that you are probably working Xmas day and that the whole plant will be running 24/7 though the whole holiday season.
Oh, and "tough what are you going to do about it?" was the bosses delightful attitude. No doubt he'll tell us we're all in it together... while he stays at home the whole time as usual.

Yeah - I'm fucking upset.

It's looming...

I've been trying to ignore it for weeks, months even. Trying to remind myself that it will be over in a day or two and it's no big deal.
But Christmas is getting closer. Everyone is making plans and saying "lets get together" and I want to pull the duvet over my head and stay there until February.

Meeting, and renewals

Sister's birthday party over the weekend meant I met loads of people who I'd not seen in 20 or more years. That, along with fancy dress, and plenty of beer and food made for a good evening.
Scary amounts of ice on the way out made for a painful evening for several people, and even more near misses as people nearly went flying. Number One Son, however walked normally over the sheet of ice, utterly unbothered by it, and didn't so much as wobble...

Lots of driving followed, back home then taking Number One Son back to college.

Lastly I went to what is coming to be known as a Tweet-up, or a Twiss-up. Lots of people I talk to via Twitter, a bar, lots of "Oh my god!" style exclaimations, wine and cocktails all round... Was great fun. And thought provoking as lots of people from very different backgrounds, different agendas, different outlooks made for an interesting night.

Great train journey home too - I'm fairly happy to talk to strangers as it is, but after a few beers... try to stop me! So I ended up chatting to a group of musicians who work in the West End on a variety of big musicals. Had a 'right larff'.
No great lessons learned, but a great day. I even managed to spend an hour or so in the British Museum, one of my favourite places in the world.

A version of this song was in my head all day - Enjoy.
The Diggers Song.

I'm on day two of a decent break. Lots of driving to come over thweekend, but then I should be able to have some fun, and time to myself, for things I like.

I live in hope - but as John Cleese one said "It's not the despair, Laura. I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand."

They dumped the waste all over the floor and then vanished.
At 3pm I was roped into 'helping to clear up' the mess.
By 4pm I knew full well I was doing it alone.
4:30 I asked if I was going to get some help, especially as I didn't make the mess.
I was told "They're too important to be clearing up."

I'm seriously thinking about resigning tomorrow.

Sad news.

I found out last night that the wife of a family friend has died of a rare form of cancer.
She, J, was involved in some sort of social work, he was a university lecturer, now retired. She had a daughter who is severely mentally and physically handicapped, who will never understand where her mum has gone.
He, C, was a friend my dad made when he went on a course in the 70s. Despite no real education, my dad is incisive, intelligent and interested in the subject, so they obviously engaged immediately. I was only very young at the time, less than 10, but a few years later he came to stay with us on holiday in Anglesey. Apparently his wife had walked out on him (I hear later) and he was in a bad way.
Dad, C and I walked up Snowdon together on a scorchingly hot day. I think it might have been 1976. Later in the week C took my younger sister and me to a chippy with a restaurant while mum and dad went for a meal, and there was a BBQ on the beach involving a fire made from seaweed and dried cow dung... It remains one of the greatest holidays I ever had.
Later C met J, her husband divorced her within weeks of the daughter being born, and we went to visit them regularly. I was about 11-12 and they were the first people to treat me like a person, not just a kid who happened to be there. They asked proper questions, told me stuff when I asked, were interested in what I had to say, explained when I didn't understand (well - were appropriate).
I was inordinately fond of them.
In the early 80s C got a big job in an important university and they moved much further away, and we saw them much less often. One visit when I was about 15 involved a lock in in the village pub, more drink with dinner and, I realised much later, me being completely and utterly bolloxed at the end of the night. I remember J taking an interest and introducing me to Paul Simon's music. She was also sexy, one of the first women I looked at as a woman, and not 'just a mum'.
Although I'd not seen them for some years, my dad kept in touch, I'm deeply saddened by her death.

Thanks J.
With love from a guy still trying to be a One Trick Pony.

Rubbish day.
Work that should have finished at 4pm Thursday was still continuing at 5pm Friday. Idiot boss went for best case scenario again, and started getting nasty when it didn't work that way.
Eventually he said he was sick at abput noon and went home. I had reason to call him for information at home in the afternoon, his wife answered, he was 'at the doctors' and she'd get the info from him when he came in. He went to the doctors with a tummy upset, on a Friday afternoon, on the first day of the upset stomach? MY ARSE he did!

Lying bastards got tickets for rugby at the weekend is everyones guess.

Cold walks, warm cafe, deer, bright sunlight, strange propositions, rare(ish) birds, hot tea.

Not a bad day, all told.

A trip into town for items to make fancy dress costumes for me and Number One Son was a bust. We're going to a 70s themed party, as a family member turns 40 in early December. After much soul searching and arguing over what we could go as we settled on Pong and Space Invaders. Easy - Black tshirt with Pong painted on it, black tshirt with painted Space Invaders on it... Right?
Wrong.
Can't find cheap tshirts that will fit either of us.
Can't find fabric paint.
Can't find anything that will help.
Drawing board here we come.

So the whole trip into the Chav infested, 'Care in the Community' running wild town centre was a depressing waste of a day off.
Well- except for one thing...

Woman of about 25, 2 kids in tow, the younger one running wild, the older supposedly 'looking after' the younger while the mother amused herself. Eventually the younger one had to be reined in and she uttered these words... "Shakira! Stay where I told ya!"
Shakira.
Really.

Poor kid, doesn't stand a chance.

Apologies.

Sorry.
SorrySorrySorrySorrySorry!

More computer collapses, problems getting connected with a replacement, nightshifts, day shifts, lots of shifts, extreme tiredness and so on mean I've not been in a position to write anything for a few days.

Aaaaannnnnddddd... to be honest, I haven't much felt I've had anything to say.

I will try harder.

A Dream for the Future.

I have reached the end of this template thing that was passed on to me to try to break a touch of writers block.
Well - it worked while it lasted, but I'll have to see how things proceed from here.

I've been dreading these last two, as I find it hard to envisage a future for myself. I have had this problem for many years. Its a symptom of depression, but its been around for so long now, its part of me.

So. I can only dream of a future with no fear, content and comfortable and safe.

Hopes for the next 365 days.

To get a new job.
To be able to pay for Number1 to be at college.

Anything else puts me into a complete horror. I make a plan and it jsut falls around my ears over and over again.

Whats in my.... Haaaaandbaaaaag??

Well... I don't carry a handbag. Or a purse.
So, I'll say whats in my pockets and wallet instead.

1 Wallet which contains:
8 receipts/debit card slips. 2 from Waitrose, 2 from Tesco, 1 from the garage where my car was fixed, 2 from Wagamama in Number1 Son's adoptive city, 1 for my train ticket.
2 Lotto Tickets, unchecked.
1 Prescription for Prozac, uncashed and expired.
1 Poem.
1 Driving Licence.
1 Blood Donor Card.
1 Train ticket, aforementioned.
2 Loyalty cards, Sainsburys and Waterstones.
1 National Insurance card.
1 Debit Card.
1 Cash Card.
1 Card from mobile phone service provider that I have no idea what it does.
1 RSPB Membership card.

£13.09 in cash, comprising of
2 Five Pound Notes
1 Pound Coin
2 Fifty Pence Pieces
4 Twenty Pence Pieces
1 Ten Pence Piece
3 Five Pence Pieces
4 One Pence Piece

1 Bunch of keys comprising of
1 Car key.
3 House Keys, for 2 different houses.
3 Locker Keys.
1 Tesco loyalty card fob.
1 Electronic door lock fob.
2 Lego Star Wars keyrings.

My worst habit.

I have so many bad habits from being a constant flirt, through sexual obsessions, via snoring, to ignoring the problems that are staring me in the face.
But the two that hurt me and drive others mad are biting the skin on my fingers - but never my nails - and cracking my knuckles.

My week - in detail.

Hmmm. Well. I'm not sure I can remember my week in details... I'll try.

Sunday afternoon - Wifey was working nights, so I headed up to my digs, later I dropped the car in at the garage for its MOT and some expensive work. Went to a pub quiz in the evening.
Monday, I shopped for supplies for my night shifts. Got a taxi to the garage and collected the car. Went in at 6pm, worked until 6am. Wasn't too bad a night, to be honest.
Tuesday, after leaving work I went to bed. When I woke up I was indolent and did as little as possible until it was time for work. The night went ok again. It was dull, but passed.
Wednesday, as in my last post - in bed at about 11:30.
Thursday, back to the hospital for xrays, replastered, head to train station, train via several small towns to home. Tesco shopping with Wifey, internet, bed.
Friday, Number 1Son due visit from College. Was pissed at me for not being able to collect him. Messes us about, and ends up spending more money than he needed amd getting in later than he needed. Also several calls from workmates, trip to town to see bank, and some calls to my dad. Evening spent chatting and on the net.
Saturday. Everyone goes out to work and I'm stuck in the house as keys have been lost and we have 1 set between 3 of us. Bored, very down. They return. Food, lift given to Number 1 as he's out for the evening. Evening in front of telly.
Sunday. As per Saturday so far... Bored rigid, blue as can be, music on the radio is good though.

My day in detail...

Midnight: I'm working. The plant is going fine, and all is well.
2am: I plug my phone in to my ears and listen to the radio - I Love Alex Lester on BBC Radio2.
2.30am: The irritating colleague arrives, but ignores me.
3am: I tell him that I'm busy and I can't cover that job that we usually do for their section when they aren't in. He just nods. I hear a few days later that he moaned about me leaving his job for him to do... How dare I?
5am: Alex has finished and I'm trying to get finished as my relief isn't coming in. Its been hard work since 3:30, actually.
6.15: I'm finally done. I get changed, head home, and eat porridge.
7.20: I get to sleep.
14.00 I'm awake again, tired, but I don't have to do anything so I take my time, watch Countdown, and head for work just before 5pm.
17.00: Stop for coffee in the local Waitrose... Ooooh nice looking cake... Ugh. It isn't cheesecake, its a gateaux and has a minty top. Ah well, never mind...
17.35: I pop into bosses office, chat for a few minutes, sort out what I'm going to do overnight.
17.50: out of the building, down the slope, feet skid out from under me, I crash down hard onto the concrete. Ow. Boss comes down to see me, I'm helped up, and into the lab. My arm is hurting. Badly.
18.15: In the bosses car going to the local hospital. Terrifyingly bad driver, my boss...
18.45: Arrive at hospital, boss departs, register, prepare for long dull wait.
19.00: Am called in and examined.
19.20: I'm in the plaster room.
19.30: I'm on my way home, arm plastered and in a sling.
20.00: Arrive home after a call into Tesco as I landed on my pot of soup and am aware that its seeping into my backpack.
21:00 last of the nights phone calls are made.
23:00 Bed, sleep.

Where I live...

Its another template post - but don't worry - we're over halfway.

I live in a village. Its an 'artificial' village built about 130 years ago for workers at a local industry. We live in the oldest part, in houses that were hand built - no two windows are the same size, handmade nails hold picture rails in place, the doors are solid and heavy.

I HATE THE PLACE!

Its been a sink estate for the council for many years, its not a picturesque village it more like the estate in 'Shameless'. There are single parents galore, junkies, wave after wave of immigrants who were/are abused, gangs of kids roam the village until 1am, don't dare say anything - they carry knives, put windows through, vandalise the cars, or will set fire to your shed...

Its a shame.

Fit the 306th : in which a video is presented, an arm is broken and other stuff too...

I slipped and fell at work last night, just before I started, landed heavily and I'm not in a plaster cast. Makes typing, carrying, and lots of other stuff difficult, and painful.

Anyway - Blog template fingy is a Youtube video.
Slight cheat (how unusual!) Two videos of one event.

Part 1
Part 2

Look closely - I'm in the crowd. and I'm rocking the FUCK out!

Due to fatigue, a sick colleague, and general meh, this is all I'm going to post today.

Thank you for your patience.

A Website...

Again the specification is just 'A' not favourite, worst, funniest... Just 'A'.

I like this one though. Its clever and funny.

www.xkcd.com

A recipe.

I'm beginning to wonder why I started this... But I did, so I will persist!

I used to work in a place of massive cultural diversity, and I had no idea how much I enjoyed that until I worked in a place with a load of Brummies that have less culture than yoghurt. One of the many advantages of this was encountering food from all over the world. Not the restaurant food that we see, but the real, honest stuff. Stews, curries, ingredients, ideas... I'd never have tried chili on watermelon without the Colombian girl, or Coca-Cola Chicken without China Girl, or this recipe without La Mexicana.

Apparently "Huevos Rancheros" is something every Mexican mother can cook, but no two are the same. Some use scrambled eggs, some have cheese, some leave out the things I add - and my version isn't quite what I was taught.
But this is the version I make for me and Number 1 Son, and we love it. Its great for Saturday Brunch, and can cure a hangover.

You will need.
An Egg.
Corn Tortilla.
Hot Salsa.
Guacamole.
Sour cream.

Method.
Warm the tortilla (and it HAS to be a corn tortilla, not a flour one because that's just not as good in any way - we tried) while you fry the egg to your taste. But if I may suggest, leave the yolk as runny as possible because it mixes with the salsa better that way.
Put the egg on the tortilla, add the salsa (which should be as hot as you can stand, don't wimp out, egg and chili work well together.)
Add Guacamole and Sour Cream.
Fold.
Eat.
Lick salsa, egg yolk, cream and avocado from fingers and round mouth.
Repeat as necessary.

A Hobby.

Well, I have several hobbies.
I'm one of those sort of blokes that can get utterly obsessed with a hobby of any sort. That is the main reason I have refused many, many offers to play golf, because I know that I would be that guy who talks about nothing else. And I can bore for England as it is - I can't afford to be worse than I am now!

So - I occupy my time/relax/take my mind off the hook and pretend I'll call back later with the following things.
Birds and Games.

I've played games since I was in my early teens. I was just at the right age when Dungeons and Dragons arrived in the UK. I was bought the set by my dad and I remember being off school ill and him saying "Lets have a game then." I wasn't able to understand it, mostly because I was ill, but also because we had no real idea what the game entailed. He never did play, or understand, it.
I, however, was, once I got my head round it, completely hooked. We started with D&D, then the AD&D (Advanced), Traveller (Sci-Fi adventures), RuneQuest, Mechwarrior, Bushido... the list went on and on.
I played with a bunch of guys all through school, and when I went to college I founded a 'soc' for gamers and made some friends who are still amongst my closest.
I dropped out of the scene when I moved in with my wife, and away from the guys in college. And then a few years ago we went to visit some of the college gang who I'd not seen for a while. We chatted about games 'I don't play any more' I said, 'there's no group in HomeTown.' They told me about a game they play... 'Its online, mate, we all play together. Even the Yorkshire guys play' (2 guys moved north 15 years ago.)
I ummed and erred about it, and wasn't sure about playing. The Wifey handed me the game at Xmas... I installed it and the old addiction was back. A year or so later she moaned about how much time I was playing. I pointed out that she was the one who bought it. That went down well. But she didn't moan at me again.

The Birds.
When Number 1 Son was about 8 I saw a poster one morning at the railway station as I was on my way to work. The local country park was having an 'introduction to birds' guided walk. I suggested it to Number 1, and he said it would be nice to go.
We turned up, walked, looked at the birds, had warm drinks, and headed back to the house. I was buzzing. "Did you see the way that one flew?" I raved to him in the car on the way home, "Wasn't it beautiful? The feathers? The songs?" It dawned on me later that he had been quiet.
A sure sign that he was trying to be polite.
He's not in the least bit interested. I have been up at 4am in dark woods, in the rain waiting to hear a rare pheasant call. I've Driven at speed to see a rare Tern before dusk turns to night (We made it!) I've stood shivering in the wind and the rain, hoping a bird of prey was going to roost where it had been the night before.
I've learned the difference between a birder, a Robin-stroker and a twitcher. I've done all three. I been gripped off, I've dipped out, dropped on, had lifers and county catch-ups, and never, ever strung.

I love doing them both.
Its a shame that the agoraphobia often keeps me indoors, but if its rare enough - I can still get out.

Oh.
Dip/Dip out = To fail to see a rarity.
Gripped off = To dip when a mate sees the bird.
Drop on = to find a rarity, or see one soon after its found.
Lifer = a bird you've never seen before.
County catch-up = a bird that you've not seen in your home county before, but may have seen elsewhere - My worst was a Red Backed Shrike that I saw in a neighbouring county 6 years ago, and only saw at home this year.
String/Stringy/Stringer = To claim to have seen something that you probably didn't. To exaggerate a common into a rarity. The lowest of the low - not to be trusted.
Twitch = to rush to see a rarity, or to travel a long way to see a rarity at short notice.
Birder = a good birdwatcher
A Robin Stroker = someone who looks at the birds in their garden
Twitcher = someone who will duck out of work to drive to the other end of the country to see a rarity with no regard for anything, or anyone else. An extremist and fanatic. Best avoided.

A Talent of Mine... Eh?

Well, I'm back home for a couple of days, and I have the Internet at my disposal... Catching up on a few things. Mafia wars, youtube vids of people falling over, porn... The important stuff.

And I've missed days on this 'Post every day' thing I promised myself, and the template... So I'll fix that now.

A talent I have.
Hmmm...
I can play the guitar, but I'm not great at it.
I can be funny, but I miss the mark too often.

I'm a great lover... I bet. (That's an Emo Philips joke, I wish I'd thought of it.)

I can self-deprecate pretty well.

Its a shame...

I was doing quite well in the stakes of posting regularly, running the template thing, and actually becoming interested in what I was saying - then the modem died.
It is completely dead and a new one is being sent out by the Evil ISP.

I think its also a massive shame that my 300th post was sent from a phone, was very short, crap and not at all interesting.

So - Here I am in MacDonald's, surrounded by Chavs looking over my shoulder, feeling nauseous from the thing I just ate - I wont call it food - and feeling very paranoid about my identity being stolen from me as I type...
But at least I'm on the internet. Right?

Maybe I'll come back tomorrow...

Internet and phone and universe joining forces with a crap modem to isolate me completely... Managed to battle through though!
But... This is all I'm posting. Far too tedious from a phone.

Today's post is about my wedding.

It was 10 years ago, I was so nervous I couldn't speak, the DJ was shit, the families were great, Number 1 Son was my best man, several ex girlfriends and crushes were invited and most came.

Not really in the mood to talk about it, to be honest.

An Art work... hmmm?

I like my art a bit mad.
Picasso, Dali, Van Gogh, Epstein, Moore, Hepworth...
I like modern, impressionist, abstract. This is a cause of conflict in the household as Wifey likes pretty pictured of a horse, with some nice flowers and a cottage.
She announced in the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam that he "Was a crap painter, really" the looks of disgust I got were humiliating.

This statue is in Birmingham Art Gallery, and I've been specifically to see it about 3 times. I think it is a wonderfully disturbingly, beautiful figure. The way the face and body don't quite seem to match, giving a beauty that is... worrying. Its almost like it's hiding something, which would suit the subject matter.

Lucifer by Jacob Epstien




It also has a cute arse.

A Song that make me cry - or almost...

I don't cry often. The result of childhood beatings at the hands of classmates because I was an easy crier, an angry crier.
I learned to hold it in over the years.

This gets me to the brink of tears every time.

Hurt.

A dream house

I rarely think about a dream house. I've stayed in a few I've loved - either on holiday, with friends, or at a wedding or similar - but if I think about it I'm torn between something like this one.



And something like this one...

It was pointed out to me that yesterday's post "A Fictional Book" should have been about a book that doesn't exist, is only real in a fictional world... I wonder if I missed the point, or perhaps the person who passed the template on to me is not very proficient in English... Or maybe the creator of the template didn't see the difference between a fictional book and a work of fiction.
Who knows?
I'd go for Oolon Colluphid's "Where God Went Wrong"

Today is a "Non-Fictional Book".

I will be hypocritical and assume, for the purposes of this post that they are asking me to talk about a work of non-fiction.
I've enjoyed a few non-fiction or, in the case of autobiographies, semi-fiction books.

I'll just mention two because I've been sat here for ten minutes trying to think of the titles of any others, and failing. Miserably.

Chickenhawk by Robert Mason.
Longitude by Dava Sobel.

"http://www.babyloss-awareness.org/"

For a friend.

Day 13 - A Fictional Book...

That's all the title of today's template post. I am not sure what that entails, as I've already listed my favourite books, and they were all fictional! Well, tomorrow's is "A non-fiction book" so I guess it makes a bit of sense if your favourite book was "The Origin of Species".

But it doesn't say "favourite" book it just says "A" book. Hmmm. Ponders.

OK.

Life of Pi.
A Booker Prize winner. Lauded critically worldwide and I hated every word of it.
None of it made much sense at all. Or rather it did make sense in a rather heavily ladled on way. It's obvious from the very start that the tale being told is utterly impossible, so it is an allegorical imagining of what happened.
And that doesn't work for these reasons.
I just couldn't see what people saw in this book. All the way through the author seemed to be going "see, see what I did there? See how clever my writing is? Isn't it clever? It's not really a tiger... Geddit? Geddit??" And I'd got bored with that in the first few pages. And it went on for page after page.
To make it worse at the end some 'investigators' turn up and Pi (the main character) explains the analogy in really simple words, almost in the way there's a play within a play in Hamlet to explain the plot. Pi tells his tale, then says "Oh the tiger is this person, the zebra is this, the hyena is this..." and the author is saying "I've realised you are a bit dim and not as clever as I am, and because I'm so so clever, I'd better explain this to you..."

I got it.
I saw the symbolism.
It wasn't subtle, it was obvious.

I shan't be wasting any more time with Yann Martel's works, but don't let that stop you. Its only my opinion.

The 12th post in this Template is "Something you are OCD about."

Trouble is - I can't see myself as OCD about stuff. Anything.
I assume LBJ is, at this point, spraying a mouthful of coffee over her monitor and choking...
I see myself as passionate about somethings... but not OCD.

I like my beer real, in a proper pub, and not to be cloudy, or off. But I have drunk naff ale on a night out, many a time.
OK - I can't drink badly made tea.
I like mine strong, with a fair amount of milk and definitely no sugar. When I say strong - I mean STRONG. 2 teabags in a mug, leave for at least 5 minutes. Usually left until its gone stone cold and has to be reheated in the microwave.
And it has to be drunk hot. I cannot understand people who leave a cuppa to go cold before drinking it. If you think you can explain that, please do!
Zim made me the worst cup of tea I've ever encountered. Made with a teabag left very briefly in a cup of hot milk with 4 sugars. I had to throw it away... it was truly awful! Am still not sure it wasn't a practical joke of some sort, but she said that's how everyone makes tea where she lives. Poor Buggers, is all I could think to say!

Actually, thinking on, at one point I had about 22 different sorts of tea in the cupboard. Assam, Ceylon, English Breakfast, Kenyan, Gunpowder, Russian Caravan, Rose Oolong... the list went on and on. I now only have two, or three. Hardly OCD behaviour, is it? Is it?

More confusion in my head as to what is going on in these posts... I doubled up today's post, reposting what went missing and putting today's on, and now that's gone!




Ah well... Here's a more recent photo of me. It's part of this 30 day template thing, not just random, egotistical, "aren't I gorgeous?" madness... Honest.

Anyway - in the meantime I've finished my first monster shift, got home and then Wifey said "I'm going out straight from work tomorrow, and wont be back until very late."
Glad I bothered driving back last night - was so well worth missing birthday drinks with my mate in a great pub with great beer and even better cheese!

OK - no idea what happened yesterday, but I was very tired and probably did something wrong. So, there is the photo from yesterday.
It was taken when I was about 15, on Xmas or Boxing Day. I was sat with my grandfather and his two remaining brothers who were some of the funniest men I ever wish to meet.

A picture of me taken a long time ago.

Just spoke to the Ginger Ninja - He's going to be off work for another 4 weeks, at least.
Damn.
I'm already exhausted.
Oh well.

I don't have the next in the blog template thing to hand. So it will have to wait for a while.

Not tonight, Jehoshaphat...

A photo that makes me sad.

She's dead.
It's not fair. It's not right and it makes me so sad every time I think of her.

But I don't want to think of her in relation to cancer. I want to think of her throwing herself into my arms because she was going away for two weeks and liked working for me. The girl who was mad about food. The girl who called me in New York to ask if McDonald's were different in the US than they were in the UK. (I couldn't answer that, by the way, I've only eaten one McDonald's in 15 years, it was under protest and it was foul.) The girl who made great Cola Chicken.
And was pretty, funny, clever, sexy, vibrant and just plain life enhancing.

I miss my little China Girl. xx

Its time to 'fess up.
I was asked to do a blog template sort of thing by a friend.

Today is "A photo that makes you happy."




This picture was taken by LBJ in Central Park, New York City. This was during one of the best weeks of my life. I don't remember enjoying myself more than I did there and then. It was the only time I've crossed the Atlantic,and the furthest I've ever travelled in a single trip. It was the longest time I've ever spent with LBJ. I enjoyed NYC immensely. It was so amazing to see the places that are so familiar from film and television.
If I ever get the chance, I will go back, but it wont be the same on my own.

Favourite things... 20 of them apparently.

Good Beer in an old fashioned pub.
Music.
Asian food - be it Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Nepalese, Thai, Burmese... I love it.
Stories.
Huevos Rancheros. A corn tortilla, a fried egg, salsa, guacamole, sour cream... Saturday morning heaven.
Games. Online, role playing, mind, board, MMORPG...
Merrel shoes.
Massages.
Anchovies.
The North Norfolk Coast.
Glimpses of thigh, breast and bottom.
Very, Very Dry Martinis.
Bacon.
Wildlife watching.
Tea. Strong and hot.
Porn and erotica.
The British Museum.
Amsterdam.
Champagne.
Cheese.

Quotation.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I love quotations.
Like facts they lodge in my brain and hang on for grim death. Not only do I love them but I think they can be useful. Not for making yourself look clever, but to put a point across.
Many years ago I remember hearing a documentary about an anthropologist staying with a tribe in Oceania somewhere. The elders or council only spoke in proverbs, quotations, and aphorisms when discussing a matter of importance to the tribe or village. It was fascinating to hear someone translate.
It went a bit like this.
"A waterfall is never dry" said one. There was a quiet pause.
"But the butterfly cannot rest in the rain" said another. Again a pause for contemplation
"A man cannot feed his family with stone, but can build a house" said another. More silence.
It was fascinating as we were never told what they were discussing, or what the decision was. But they spoke like this for a while, and then it was decided and they all went away, if not happy, then content that the matter had been considered properly by all concerned. Nothing else needed to be said. I envied them for their insight.

That said, I usually enjoy daft quotes. With a few pertinent ones thrown in...

"You can't have everything, where would you put it?" Stephen Wright.

"My Father had a profound influence on me, he was a lunatic." Spike Milligan.

"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." Benjamin Franklin

"Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." Franklin again.

"Either God wants to abolish evil, and cannot; or he can, but does not want to... If he wants to, but cannot, he is impotent. If he can, but does not want to, he is wicked... If, as they say, God can abolish evil, and God really wants to do it, why is there evil in the world?... If he is unable to do either, then why call him 'God'?" Epicurus

""That's some catch, that Catch-22," he observed.
"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka agreed." Joseph Heller - Catch-22

"My name in Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." The Princess Bride.

"We want the finest wines available to humanity, we want them here and we want them now!" Withnail in Withnail and I.

"I could dance with you until the cows come home, or better, I could dance with the cows until you come home!" Groucho Marx

Book?

This is another toughie.

I read a lot, when I have the time, but my reading is sometimes a little restricted. I want to be the sort of person who has read everything from Kafka to Tolkein, from Rushdie to Austen to the next big thing...
But I don't in all honesty.
I generally manage to stick to fantasy, sci-fi, some poetry, and a few interesting modern novels.
I've really enjoyed some of David Mitchell's books. Cloud Atlas threw me a curve and wasn't at all what I was expecting. Black Swan Green threw me another because it wasn't anything like Cloud Atlas. (I did have some issues with BSG as I was the same age as the main character at the time it was set, and much of it didn't ring true. I enjoyed it nonetheless.)
The Time Traveller's Wife and Her Fearful Symmetry were both entertaining, but lacked a little something.

But I waffle on pointlessly...

Favourite book? Books... that's easier.

Consider Phlebas by Iain M Banks
Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein
His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman
The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett
A Little Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon
Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransom
The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien
American Gods, Stardust and Anansi Boys - all by Neil Gaiman.

There - that will do.

Continuing a theme... Television.

I don't watch a lot of television these days. I got bored with the medium a few years ago and discovered, no re-discovered, the joys of radio. This is something that puts me at odds with Wifey and Number1 Son, because they watch it all... Endless reruns of Friends, Scrubs, Ugly Betty, CSI, NCIS, and so on. I can watch one or two, but then I'm bored beyond belief.
I see the way that its going to go from the outset... and I'm rarely surprised by a plot twist or development, and so I can, at best, watch a programme, once. They can sit and watch the same episodes over and over.
And don't get me started on X-Factor, BGT, Strictly...

So - My favourite?
I watch QI, Mock the Week, Dr Who, I really enjoyed Sherlock on the BBC recently, Match of the Day, and less often now 'Have I Got News For You?' as I think its lost the edge that made it great years ago.
But there is a series that I worshiped when I was younger, and I can always watch it when it appears on a cable channel.
Blake's 7.
I LOVED it! The honest rebels, the evil Federation, the idea that this small group were making a difference and in the end were going to win against overwhelming odd.
When Gareth Thomas left the series, and we were left without Blake I was still addicted, it didn't break step. In later series they kept looking for Blake, who was always rumoured to be out there somewhere I was broken-hearted when Gan was killed in an episode. The ships weren't saucers, they were exotic looking.
I was obsessed with it for years. Never missing an episode in the entire run, except one in which a major character was killed off. Took me a while to forgive my dad for making me go to the works Pantomime trip - in a time before VCRs were common!
And then there was the news that it was going to end.
The final episode arrived. Surely they were going to finally kill the bad guy, well - girl actually! Overthrow the Federation, Blake would be found and lead them to the final victory.
But that's not what happened.
They found Blake, he was changed, and with a few minutes to go he confronted Avon, his right hand man and the leader since Blake had been absent. During the interchange it became clear that the Federation were there, and it was some sort of a trap. Avon shoots at Blake, just as he says something like 'its OK, I'll get us out of here but you have to trust...'
Blake dies. The troopers break in and start shooting, killing character after character, until only Avon and his nemesis Servelan are left.
She offers him a seat as her consort, he smiles, he starts to laugh, it fades to black, the sound of his gun followed by a volley of troopers blaster shots, and the credits rolled in silence.

I sat looking at the telly, on the verge of tears, 13 years old and my heroes were dead. They'd been crushed in the end, it was all for nothing. For days, weeks, I could barely talk about it. At school the few of us who were fans seemed to avoid talking about it, as we were all left stunned.

So, even now, when I watch it, I feel like that young lad.
And one more sad moment. Many years ago I went for an interview in Chiswick. It was a job I was desperate to get and was wearing a suit that has 'seen better days' as they say in the novels. I'd had a bit of an effort travelling to get there as it was a long haul from the area of South London I was living in at the time. So there I am, hot and uncomfortable in my suit, nervous, and worried I'm going the wrong way or something else is going to go wrong and ruin my day. This guy sits down opposite me and pulls a computer catalogue out of a bag. I immediately think - he must be loaded, buying a PC! (at that time about £1500 would get a computer and my salary was likely to be around £8500 in London!) Then he takes out a mobile phone - in those days still an uncommon sight. I immediately think - Rich AND a tosser...
"Hi, Its Stephen Greif..." He starts.
My jaw is on the floor... Its Travis! The evil henchman from Blake's 7 and he's sat opposite me! My opinion of him has been reversed instantly.
And now the train pulls in to my stop.
Dammit.
I have to get off, without saying a word.

Oh, in my defence - he had been heavily made up in the series, scars, badly disfigured because of his many battles etc, and it was about 10 years since I'd seen the programme, no instant DVD release back then!

Favourite Movie.

I was also asked about my favourite movie. (Is there a pattern emerging here?)
This I can answer more easily!

I love films, though now I rarely find one that moves me like they did 20 years ago. Avatar was OK, but it's just 'Dancing With Wolves' redone - there's nothing new in the story, just the effects - and that's not really enough.
I loved 'Kick Ass', haven't been able to see Toy Story 3, and thought Inception was better while I was watching it than it actually was. To be honest the sort of films I really want to watch are rarely shown in the multiplexes where I live. I'd need to live in London, Manchester or perhaps Birmingham to be able to see Japanese, French and other 'arthouse' films. Alternatively, I'd need to be able to afford a Sky subscription, and be able to kick the family off the telly to watch what I want to watch.

So here is a list of a few films that I would happily watch over and over and over. I know this because I have.


This is my favourite ever. I never get tired of its quiet, slow story. Great performances, script, tension is built slowly, and there are some wonderful moustaches.


Not the same as the book, and that's a shame, but still a great realisation.


Funny, very sexy, and just great.


Oh so quotable...


A great story that is driven by wonderful performances.


Funny, music is superb, quotable, cameos galore... what's not to like?


For anyone who ever went on holiday by mistake...


Pure Japanese weirdness - it makes little sense to me as a Westerner, but is just wonderful.

Favourite Song.

I was asked recently what my favourite song was.

And I'd have to answer - I have no idea.

I have a list of several hundred songs that move me in a multitude of ways, that leave me breathless with their beauty, make me think "Best bass riff ever!", or make me think of someone in particular.
For example I always think of a woman I met at a wedding in Scotland 18 years ago when I hear "Whole of the Moon" by the Waterboys. Not because there was anything between us, or that she was beautiful - she was quite unattractive to be honest - but because we talked about music during the meal and that song came up, we both said we loved it (I love it for the line "I saw a rain dirty valley, you saw Brigadoon") and I've never forgotten her since. She was from Manchester, blonde and a fireman's wife. I remember nothing else about her.

I love several song's because of mind-blowing live performances - Elbow's Powder Blue, Foo Fighters' Monkey Wrench, Chemical Brother's Block Rockin' Beats...

Right now... As it varies from time to time... my favourite song is "Easy Living" By Uriah Heep (http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1323250/uriah_heep_easy_livin/)
Why?
I have no idea, but it got into my head about 3 days ago and I can't get rid of it. So it will do!

I'm home, tired, and sore.
My shoulder is aching with the sudden wet weather influx. Is that the word? No, of course it isn't... Ah forget it.

Will try again tomorrow.

No internet. Phone crap. Post just about honoured.

Sorry!

I'm too tired tonight.
Sorry.
Good thing... good thing... good thing...
I have tea.

Yeah - that will do.

Another day at work and another day of oddness...

Breakdowns in the machinery mean I wasn't actually producing, but instead had a good cleaning session and removed some redundant plant from an area we no longer use that was attracting vermin.
Then, as I am owed a load of hours, I went and asked the boss if I could leave early - I couldn't produce anything, and... why not??
He agreed. I was almost floored with surprise.
I legged it at the earliest opportunity.

Sadly, Ginger Ninja called me to say that he has a problem with his eye and is having an operation tomorrow morning. He will be off for 4-6 weeks and unable to work normal duties for some time after that.
Great.

Ah well. I didn't let it spoil my evening. I dozed off during the Archers, had plenty to eat, and am in bed, with the Internet restored, and planning to sleep shortly!

Posting from my phone, fingers crossed it doesn't put my number up on the page.
Bad day. Boy was distracted by the joys of Uni life, and couldn't talk because of it, work is likely to try to hit me with even more work, and I don't want to go home whilst at the same time being desperate to run home to hide...
Good? Billy Bragg on the radio, playing live. Polari jokes with a friend on Facebook... Bona!

Its morning. I'm really cold, as the duvet thief struck in the night and I was left with about 2ft of duvet covering my 6'3 frame.
Time to get them out of bed and moving...

Bye for now!

Wifey's in tears.
We've had champagne, lasagne, salad.
We watched a film, it Kicked Ass... It was "Kick Ass", in fact.
Its suddenly hit her that he's not going on holiday, he's leaving.
I'm trying hard not to cry.
Strangely disconnected day.
I've only just realised it's Saturday.
No internet at the digs. I probably wont be able to update this blog for a few days. Sorry about that, I'm dissapointed to say the least.
We watched a film, it Kicked Ass... It was "Kick Ass", in fact.

I might not make it...

I'm trying to post every day until the end of October, but I realise that I might not make it this weekend.
I've got 6 long drives to do over two and a half days, work, a son to pack off to university, a wife to calm down after she freaks out that she's all alone, and... that's just the stuff I know about!
So I guess that I might just miss a day, or two, or even three.
Apologies are proffered in advance, and I hope you don't mind too much if it comes to pass. Sometimes life gets in the way.

I'm a bit antsy, truth be told. Not only is him leaving home affecting me more than I ever thought it would, I am getting more nervous every time I leave here, and I get worse every time I come back.

Oh, and last night I upset Wifey. We were eating dinner and I realised that not only does her jaw crack and click in a horrible grinding way (something that has been happening for several months but she insists there is nothing wrong and wont consider seeing the doctor) but she has started eating with her mouth open.
Really open.
Last night I couldn't take it and spoke out. She looked shocked, but closed her mouth.
"Does your jaw hurt? Is that why you are chewing so loudly?" I asked
She said not, in a somewhat hurt way - almost as if to say I shouldn't have mentioned it if I loved her.

Love has a limit and eating with your mouth wide open and so loudly I can't hear the telly is definitely on the other side of that limit.

The power has been out all day. So I've been mooching around trying to figure out what I can do. I ended up in a layby in the wilds reading a book.
I enjoyed it immensely!

Another day of little sleep, and long drives...

And another eveing where everyone has gone out and left me alone at the keyboard.
Only one thing for it! Online gambling!

See you when I'm broke.

Bad - long night and got woken up at noon by the landlady's new cleaner.
Good - There's a new cleaner!

Today I have a vast amount to do before work at 6pm tonight.
Hence, there is a post on my blog, this is it, and that is(almost) it.

Good - slept later than usual.
Bad - not feeling too well, but can't give in to it today.

Sunday has been a slow day.
Number One went out last night so I was left all on my lonesome. Wasn't the best evening I've ever had. Spent time just dully running through stuff on my game, and feeling a bit crap.
He made me dinner before he went out, as he was going for a pizza with a friend who is at college already and going to study in Italy for 18 months. Pasta, broccoli, cheese and chili wouldn't have been my ideal choice - but fair play to him, it wasn't half bad! At least I know he wont starve at uni.

Apparently the boss was making 'those who didn't turn up are in the firing line' noises yesterday. Ah well, if it happens, it happens. I'm trying not to worry about it. By which I mean I'm screwing myself up into a ball of psychotic tension...

Panic attack in Tesco again. Really have to get a grip on that. Its going to get embarrassing soon...

Still - steak, baked taters, mushrooms and cauliflower cheese for dinner. Better see if the kitchen is fit for cooking in...

Despite several pints of cider last night after we got in, I was fine and dandy this morning. More than can be said for Number One Son. He didn't find it amusing that I found it amusing.
I'm wasting today just chilling... playing on the net, bit of writing, bimbling around, waffling, and generally enjoying it.

Bad stuff? Yeah, its there, I'm just ignoring it for now, and I'm enjoying that too.

The Law is an ass.

Two pints of bitter please
Has he got any ID?
He's going to university next week...
I can't serve him.
Are you kidding?
No.
I'm not drinking that pint then, and you've lost the price of 2 meals, which mean he's legally allowed to drink wine or beer at 14.
I'll get the manager.
Too late, bye.

We left and went to another pub that was glad of our business and didn't piss about with asking for ID.

We've had a visit from Bottom Inspectors at work. (reference to Viz comic, not actual proctologists or anything. That would be weird.)

A few chickens have come home to roost. In fact, the audit was so bad there may be job losses as a result of contracts being cancelled. Best of all the bosses have nowhere to hide. True, some errors were due to us, but the massive structural problems are down to them to fix. I'm not a builder, so I can't repair the massive cracks in the floor.

Anyway - I got home after my night work of the last few days, a pleasant drive down one motorway and up another. I got in, put the kettle on and realised there was a message from the Ginger Ninja on my phone. Wifey had said "I bet Ginger is on the phone before you get home." when I called to let her know I was leaving.
The message went "Hello Big Boy!" (No, really it did... He's a sad, strange little man!) "Pointy Haired Boss is on the rampage, everyone has to do extra hours. Gimme a call before he does!"
I thought two things. 1 - Nope, I've done way more hours than everyone else for the last few months, I'm not doing any more. And 2 - Nope! I've done way more hours than everyone else for the last few months, I'm not doing any more.

Barely had this crossed my mind than the house phone started ringing. I saw the number and recognised work's number. It could be Ginger I thought, or Pointy Haired Boss. Despite not wishing to talk to either, I answered and it was PHB.
"The fallout from the audit has got worse. I need as many as possible to work over this weekend. Even guys on holiday are coming in. What can you do over the weekend?" He said.
"Nothing. We're going away in the morning. I had this discussion with you a few days ago when The Raja was sick. I could work a few hours on Thursday, but we are away from Friday morning until Monday morning."
"Ah" he said, succinctly.

Ah well, I don't believe in the Seven Deadly Sins, so a lie or two isn't going to bother me. Wifey is going away, but I'm not. I just don't want to drive over 100miles to do work for no extra pay. I want to spend a weekend with Number One Son before he goes to College.

And I fully intend to do just that.

Bad - Screwed up at work.
Good - Might have fixed it enough to avoid getting into too much trouble.
Bad - Have to lie about my weekend away.
Good - Not going on a weekend away!
Bad - errr, that's it for now...
Good - Sick staff member coming back so no stupid shifts to work.
Bad - Nope still nothing...
Good - Oh, that's it there too.

I'm off to bed.

That was a long, difficult night.
I'm hoping tonight is going to be a little easier... Probably not, but one has to hope.
But to quote from the film Clockwise - "It's not the despair. I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand."

Bad things? Its never proper sleep, and the trip to work looms
Good things - Made the cute girl in the bookshop "proper laugh", and the woman in the bakery offered me "A couple of big ones" when I asked for two scones... Couldn't help myself!

Gah - driving to do, keyed up again, long night ahead!

Good - I fixed a tap. Not exactly manly, but better than usual, going to get some money back.
Bad - have to return a set of spanners before I leave.

In an attempt to break Blogger's Block I'm going to try to post every day until the end of October.
Most of the posts will be short, and not very informative, but I'm hoping that the process of writing something will cause more inspiration to come. You never know unless you try.

I've decided that every day must contain a "good thing" and most will contain a " bad thing" - which will probably be more in evidence, but again, You never know unless you try.

So... Bad thing - Everyone is still in bed, people I want to chat with are busy with their lives and I can't annoy people too much (or enough!) I'm feeling sorry for myself and fed up.
Good thing. Proper coffee. A lie in. Its Sunday and I'm not working.

Lots of long days at work culminated in an email at about noon yesterday with the guy who was coming in for the night take over from me which read "I have a sore foot and is not abel to come for duty."
He's Indian, and while he's intelligent and hard working, his English is dreadful. Odd consonants get added to words - but only sometimes. He often spells mixer as mikxer, but not always... Its weird.
Anyway - that throws my day in the air. If he isn't coming in I need to get everything done by 6pm. Well, of course, nothing goes to plan. The tank is pumping out much slower than it should. I consider showering and changing while it finishes before going back to finish off in my civvies. I realise, however, that I will just get covered in the crap from the tank and will have to drive home with my jeans stuck to me leg in a nasty way. When I empty the tank I get covered, both legs, knee to ankle. About the only good call I make all day. I eventually stagger out of the door at 7:30 and head onto the road home.
The road home is paved with nutters. Its a stressful drive, but it passes, eventually.

I keep trying to find the time, energy, and the words to write how I feel at the moment.
But I can't.

Sorry.

I feel better today. Very tired after a long work day, but mostly in a good way.

The moods are really swinging... Which is not something I like.
The drive up to the digs gave me something to take my mind off the situation and I felt calmer.
But even with that I'm still feeling butterflies in my stomach, skittish and nervous.

Still, I need a shave, a shower and an early night to stand a chance of getting up for work.

I'm a failure as per usual.
The toolbox is completely empty.
Looked for an hour, couldn't even find a screwdriver.
They've gone out, I've got to get ready to go to my digs.
I feel as bad as I ever have at this moment.

Dammit. Why doesn't it get better instead of just coming back all the time?

Visits, tantrums and more.

So... the day began predictably enough. Promises to be out of the door at a certain time are reneged upon and we leave for a 90minute drive with 55minutes to spare.
Predictably, again, the motorway system is crap and we arrive 25minutes late.
Its a model village near London and we meet up with Yankee Boy and American Mom and the offspring as they haven't seen Number1 Son or Wifey this visit.
I'm stressed because of the drive and because I hate being late, but we are there, eventually.
We chat, have an ice cream, wander round look at the exhibits, explain some to the American offspring, and Number 1 Son. So far so good.
I get a message from LBJ, but don't pass it on immediately, for reasons that will become clear later... And the kids play on the slides, climbing frames, etc. This is when it begins.
Stroppy Boy becomes very stroppy. He's moaning about everything and starting to get mean. I give him a couple of quid to play on a boat thing that costs £1. He goes of with American Mom. The girls play on, happily.
Its decided we should head back to the home base and regroup.
Stroppy Boy returns and demands more money from me and Wifey. No chance, pal. He kicks off with YB and AM. They threaten sanctions and the girls are collected. YB avoids the gift shop, but AM goes in with Stroppy Boy. He is demanding a car. AM says no, he freezes in the shop, folds his arms like a genie and refuses to move until her gets a car. I move through and ignore him.
Outside YB has Oldest Girl and New Arrival. I tell him about the text from LBJ, he makes all the right 'ahhh' noises. AM arrives with Stroppy Boy "He wants a car". Soon after, he gets a car.
We get back to the home base and park up, wander in a park. Stroppy Boy and Oldest girl want to go on everything they see... inflatables, trampolines, crazy golf. Stroppy Boy is fuming every time he is told no.
We find a Nando's and order food. New Arrival is baling and tired so AM walks her in the pram. Stroppy Boy is a pain, but food is ordered, paid for and we wait.
Finally it arrives, and nothing is right. Meals have the wrong sides, or none at all, the wrong dressings, unordered food is offered... The manager comps the lot to us. Except that it has to be at that branch. So we give vouchers to the Older Brother's family. Damn.
On the walk back I decide to try something. "Hey, American Mom, LBJ said 'Hi' to everyone..." I say. She doesn't react. Not a flicker. Nothing.
I ask Wifey a little later if she noticed. Maybe YB said something earlier? But she'd have said 'yeah - YB told me...' right? All agree. She heard and blanked it.

'Even I can't spin that to a positive.'

We return to the place they are staying. They have baby sitters and we deposit the kids, make a minor running repair on my car new and alarming rattle, and head to the pub where a jolly if, in my case, sober evening is had.
Near the end of the night AM says 'we know so few happily married couples like you' - I almost bit my tongue in two...

Oh, and Oldest Girl was a little stroppy, but she's 9, jet-lagged and was barely any trouble at all. Hard to believe, but its true!
Similar for New Arrival.
But Stroppy Boy.... damn he lived up to the nickname. What a pain he was... which is a shame because I know he can be great.

Even Shares?

Its funny the way things occur to me.

I was shopping at the local Tesco, having been sent by Wifey with a list of things 'we need'. I dutifully went and filled the trolley with said items while she went back to bed.
As I was waiting for the scanning to commence, items laid out on the belt, I observed what I was about to pay for.
Meat, veg, fruit, cake, bread, juice... The usuals.

Then I weighed up the ratios. Our meat, her wine, our veg, her juice, our bread, her cake, our, her, our, her... Hmmm.
There wasn't anything that was exclusively mine, or for Number 1 Son, but there was stuff that was exclusively for Wifey. Quite a lot of stuff, actually. In fact it came to 25% of the bill.
OK - that doesn't seem too bad, after all, there are 3 of us, and 1/4 of the bill for one person? Ah, but the other stuff isn't mine or Number 1's exclusively.
We don't eat stuff that she doesn't like. Fair enough. But I only have a very small list of things I don't like. And she still buys them for herself.

So... is it me? Is this the way everyone is? Or am I just being taken for a ride?

So I get home about a minute before Wifey. I'm unpacking clothes, computer, stuff... She dashes up to the main PC and logs on, knowing that I will want to catch up with my game, and I haven't played it for a week.
So its a tense start.
As she leaves for work next morning, with us barely having spoken she gives me a list of jobs, which includes looking for some documents relating to her car that she hasn't been bothered to look for on her days off - but seeing as the housekeeper (me) is here now, why should she bother.
Tense continues.

Then there's the idiots. The town seems full of them. From the idiots who go at 1mph over a 1 inch ramp into the roadworks at the entrance to the village in their 4x4s, to the idiot woman who took up 4, yes 4, parking spaces in the Tesco car park. She also went mad at me because I looked at her and shook my head. She ranted about her car always getting scratched when she parks there - I said "Park somewhere else then." and she got even more abusive.
There are some classy people about.

And then on the net tonight, someone I was told was worth looking at on Twitter said that a musician wasn't worth seeing because he's a paedophile. I questioned this and was told, yes he was, pictures on his PC, arrested, etc etc. I decided to look into it on the web. The person was questioned because his credit card was found in a database - but he'd never been found to have done anything. His card was cloned/stolen. I pointed this out and was told. Well - my first marriage ended badly, and they were played at the wedding... Jaw on floor time.
I said " hardly a reason for calling him a paedophile, is it? I got dumped by a girl who like Take That - does that make Robbie Williams a rapist?"
She didn't reply.

I sometimes think its me. And some, rarer, times - I think its everyone else...

http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/falling_asleep.png

Running from one end of the country to the other to see Yankee Boy and family. Stayed at a hotel, care of the LBJ. Had a good day. Eddie Munster and family arrived, and Lawman with his kids.
We had a blast.
Was the first time I'd seen LBJ's partner since he left, and came back to her. I barely spoke to him because I felt like if I started to say anything a tsunami of anger would issue forth and he would be its sole target. Not that I completely ignored him - but I couldn't look him in the eye, I couldn't start a conversation with him, and I mostly wished he wasn't there. (Sorry, Babe. I tried but I couldn't be nice to him.) Maybe it will mellow as time goes on.
Was hoping to see Z-Girl on Sunday morning as she lives no too far from Yankee Boy's brother, but she didn't reply to my messages until I was at a point of having to leave to get home at a sensible time. I don't think she really wanted to see me, and engineered the situation to get the result she wanted.
So I ended up here at a sensible time. On my own. Suddenly in quiet.
For the first time in about two weeks I was at the end of something.
I feel somewhat bereft, lonely, lost and like there is something missing, but not in a particularly bad way - the absence is good.

So I'm indulging my taste for mad music with The Freak Zone on BBC 6Music, and chilling out with homemade soup, fruity bread and tea.

It could be a lot worse.

Too many emotions for one day.

I woke up at 5:30 and was surprised to hear No1 Son moving about. I thought then that he had to be more keyed up about his results that he was letting on. I got up at 6:20 and he called me. "I think I've got in!" We looked at the UCAS site and I said that I didn't think that's what it was actually saying.
I went for my cuppa and took him one too. Wifey was there and they were debating what I thought was a pretty straight forward message on the screen. I left them too it!
About 8:15 he came down with the the laptop. The message had changed and he had got in to his chosen university, and course.
Joy was unconfined, Wifey went to work, and then at about 10am I took him in to get his actual results. BBC. More than enough to go away to college, and far better than Wifey and I had expected. Feeling very proud and happy I was a bit shocked to be told "Don't talk to my friends." after I asked one girl how she had done. A few minutes later I was told to leave and he would see me when he got in. OK. Thanks.

I slept a bit this afternoon, after visiting Tesco. Then, when Wifey came home, she said "You'll need to get these days off. You have to take him to college." I can't, The Ginger Ninja is on holiday. I tried explaining a couple of times, but was given the shortest of shrift.
A couple of hours later I managed to get through to her that I work solo and not, like she does, in a team. If I want a day off 3 other people have to be rota'd to cover it. I can't just decide to cancel a day off and go in. Once they are in, that's it, pretty much.
I was rather looking forward to taking him to college. A long talk in the car. Tell him what the opportunities are going to be, not to waste it... to embrace it fully. But I wont be able to.

Its all been a bit more than I can cope with today.

My brain has melted.

I was in the brilliant Charity bookshop in the city this afternoon whilst shopping for supplies for my last night shift.
I saw this book

http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/d/suzannah-dunn/queen-of-subtleties.htm

I looked at the titles for a few seconds and wondered why someone would be the Queen of Sub-Lettings... Actually it was about a minute.

I left the shop empty handed and empty headed. I'm obviously not clever enough to shop there.

Lack of sleep is a problem on a night shift. I woke up at 8am, no prospect of any sleep before 7am.
Managed to row with my colleague about rotas because I'm fed up with being messed about and he got really bolshy - I just got nasty.
I've woken up with a very sore throat and a headache. I may try another sleep, it may even work!

So I get up.
I re-unvirus my computer.
I eat, drink some coffee.
I start unvirussing the other computer.
My phone rings.
Its LBJ.
"He's left me."
I drive to her.
She cries on me.
We talk.
Drink tea.
Put his stuff in bags.
We talk more.
I tell a few people for her.
I drive home.
I cook.
We eat.
Watch TV.

That's enough for one day.
Isn't it?

Visit to my mum was better than some. I wasn't completely destroyed by it, so better than usual!
Dad was hyper and hard work... Family were unhelpful.
I drank a bit too much coz my brother in law is a bad influence. Was fun though.
And... Damn! How I slept! Went to bed at midnight twice, woke up at 11am and 10am respectively. Not done that for ages... years even!

Number1 Son seems to have been given student finance - which amazed me and is a huge relief. Can see I'll be paying him back from now until I die though. All he has to do now is pass some exams... ah.

I'm trying to get my head round the last few days... Give me a minute, please.

I'm going away for a few days. Just visiting family.
It will be stressful, especially as this lot refuse to even consider getting up, organised or doing anything to make things easier for me. I have cleaned the house, sorted clothes and all that sort of stuff - they are still in bed.
They will moan about the drive too - although I will be driving.

Further walks, father walks, father walks.

I've had a horrible few days at work. Its been appallingly hot, colleagues have driven me mad, I'd damaged stuff while using a fork-lift truck, and generally had a miserable time. This has been compounded by a complete inability to sleep properly.

The shift finished at 6pm yesterday and I was exhausted. Crawled up the stairs and phoned Wifey. As I spoke to her I remembered that I'd promised to go to a quiz with some people. Damn charities! I showered, and ended up actually sobbing in the shower I was so sore and tired. I couldn't raised the energy to cook, so I dragged myself to the top of the hill and went into the Chinese take away. A guy came and asked about my order, but I couldn't speak - not through fatigue - I'd seen the prices. £8 for egg fried rice... it was £11 for Beef in Black Bean Sauce. At home my local take away can feed me, Number 1 Son and Wifey for £13:50, so I wasn't prepared to pay £20 to feed just me! I strolled to the Wetherspoons and had a burger and a pint for £4:50.
Refreshed I headed to the quiz and had a rollicking good time. Drank too much, but didn't care, and rolled in at about midnight. I fell asleep in the chair, woke at about 2am and headed to bed.

I felt fine this morning, and as I had the day off I lolled about in an indolent fashion before deciding to go out at about noon. I took my coat, as it looked like rain, but that was a bad idea. Bought myself a rucksack in a sale, stuffed my coat into it and strode out of the city. I walked for about 6 miles in a wandery, absent minded sort of way. I stopped in a church just for the hell of it. And came home with good, fresh bread, fruit and an idea about going to the cinema tonight that will probably come to nothing.

No, there was no agoraphobia again today either.

Wifey was between night shifts so I made myself scarce. I popped in to visit her sister and my nieces who were having a "girly day" - I left before I was asked to help with pedicures.

It was still too early to go home so I went for a walk in a model village a few miles from home. Not a village of tiny houses, but a village that was built by a local landowner to be twee, nice for him to drive through and give the estate workers somewhere decent to live. Of course because its attractive there is no way anyone with less than £2million under the bed can live there. I counted 3 Aston-Martins parked up, today.
Still - I dragged my rusty Fiesta up the hill, parked at the church and went for a walk.

I was given a Memento Mori moment in the churchyard, which was nice. It was a shame the church has been locked due to robberies.

So I walked into the wood. I was conscious of the agorophobia ad I was waiting for it to kick in, but for some reason it didn't, so I kept going.
I heard Ravens overhead, walked through a cool wood, saw a Treecreeper, and emerged into the grey heat of a cornfield.
Still I walked on. I followed the path around the field edge, stopping now and then to pick up interesting bits of stone, take photos, look at the view, listen to the absence of human noise - or the muffled noise ofthe motorway some miles away to the east.

Then, thirsty and hot in the muggy heat, I turned around and headed for home. Back past the fields where I had a "Van Gough moment" as a dozen Crows suddenly took to the air a few yards away from me. The cool of the wood was a blessing. I stopped again to view a pair of woodpecker fledglings on a dead tree, then again for flocks of tits, finches, and some small deer. Finally I returned to the car under the young oak tree, cool in the shade. I savoured the quiet one more moment before turning the ignition key and starting both the engine and radio at the same time.



Still the agorophobia didn't kick in. It never did today. I don't think its a total victory, but it was a small victory.

My life is like a movie...

But not a good one... I've not managed to get to sleep before 4am so far on my days off. A month of night shifts seems to have finally effected my body clock,

I found myself wanting to scream at Wifey this morning because she was eating toast. She'd come bck off her night shift and woken me up, and you know that scene in movies where someone is being annoyed and the other person starts eating and the noise of the eating is too much to bear, and it gets louder and louder and the camera moves in and the eating goes on and on,and it gets more and more annoying and louder and louder and closer and closer and...

I ended up laughing at myself.
"What's funny?" She said. I couldn't tell her.

Its not working. I can't seem to find words for the grind at the moment.
Stroppy behaviour from Wifey because I phoned when she in the shower, I'm missing Number 1 Son - who is in Greece on his first holiday without us, I keep feeling sick, and my knee hurts.

What a miserable git I am.

I've been trying to write about something, but it never comes out right.
Give me a bit of time and maybe it will, or it will resolve itself and wont need writing about.


Sorry.

I'm stuck in the house alone again. I really am wondering if the exchange of clean for dirty washing is the only impact I have here.
I also seem to be out of money... which is not good as I got my bonus a mere 3 weeks ago.
This time round, though, I did at least get shoes and glasses!

Silence has been brought on by night work, headaches, boredom, and little or nothing of consequence to say. And a broken laptop.

One of the above has been sorted, at a cost of £50.

Paying for it.

I've never paid for sex.

Today I went for another massage. And I felt as though I'd all but paid for sex.
She's small, blonde, athletic and pretty, and she was in physical contact with me for the whole 30 minutes. The longest time anyone has touched me for in a long, long time.
When she held my arm behind my back she used her thigh let my relaxed arm stay in place rather than flop to my side. When she stretched my arms from right in front to right behind, and as I'm much bigger than her, she made contact with my back from her chin down.
A mock intimacy. I'm a client, but I've only ever been manipulated like that by lovers before this woman.
I paid my money and left feeling relaxed and happy, and trying to remember that that is that.

A bit of a day.

Took Number One Son to shop for stuff for his holiday as his shift was canceled. We had a really good time, actually. Decided to stop of coffee and a macaroon at a posh cake shop, bought him some shirts and shorts, went in the Lego shop and bought Star Wars key-rings, got myself a couple of books, did some people watching... stuff like that.
As we came back into the hometown I was following a bus, ahead there was someone on the pavement. I turned to Number One and said "Has he fallen over?"
We slowed, and N1 said, "Yeah, but the bus is stopping... oh no it isn't!"
There was a man in his 70s sprawled on the pavement. I swung into a driveway and jumped out of the car.
"Are you ok?" "I've fallen!" He declines an ambulance, as he just can't get up. Another bus pulls over and the driver calls over to ask if we are OK. I assure him its under control, and I help the man slowly to his feet. Someone else, a fit looking guy in his early 30s, appears from somewhere and helps us. The man isn't badly hurt, just shaken. His elbow is scraped and his knee is bleeding under his trousers, but nothing serious. We guide him across the road to his car.

As I turn back to go to the car I hear a horn blow. There is someone trying to get into the driveway I stopped in, I see N1 starting my car - he has no license and, obviously, no insurance so I shout at him not to move the car. I know he's acting out of the best of intentions, and is capable of moving the car forward a foot or two, but I'm not happy about it.
The guy in the BT van is the one who biped his horn. I shout to him that I was helping the old guy and will move the car. He glances in the mirror, twigs whats going on and says "Oh, no problem"
I get back in the car and start to pull out. The man in the AA Driving school car comes hurtling past, just misses me as I'm pulling out, screaming abuse and making obscene gestures. Dammit if I didn't get his whole number. Still might be onto the AA Driving School later...

N1 and I then went round Sainsbury's, but I was so messed up after the adrenaline of the emergency I wasn't much use to him - he did the shopping, really.
Home, food, cider, bed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRR5YrpbBe4

That is all I have to say.
x

Am thinking of another day out in London at the end of the week. I'm off, Wifey is working, and... why not?

I'd appreciate suggestions for things to see and do. Thanks.

Indiscretion and regret.

I got off the train and walked up Ludgate, towards St Paul's, stopping briefly to look at the Wren church where William Penn was married. Leaving, I held the door for two elderly Americans - presumably from Pennsylvania.
The sun was bright and all was, for once, well with the world. I'd arranged to meet Smack-Head at 1pm in front of the Tate so I still had a while to kill. I strolled.
A group if chefs and waitresses passed me carrying a buffet, with apparent difficulty. I stopped to look in another window before walking on. Moments later I observed a mass of pasta spread through the doorway of a posh office and being spread and smeared further by the automatic door. The effort obviously became too much.
For the third time I walked up the steps to St Paul's and looked in through the door. I still think £12 is too much to look round a cathedral. However beautiful, however influential, however famous. For the third time I walked out again without seeing anymore.
And so I went round the side and looked at the gardens. Fountains splashed, gardeners chased pigeons (surely a futile exercise), drunks dozed on the benches, tourists posed and people enjoyed the midsummer sun.
I glanced up and saw a beautiful woman walking towards me as I headed down the steps. Small, blonde, pretty, very pretty, in a classic Chanel type green silk dress, matching shoes, bare legs, black bag, her small breasts free from underwear. I tried not to stare.
I headed down the steps and headed back towards Ludgate, desperate to look at her again, but too scared. I could hear her heels coming closer. I strolled, attempting casualness.
She passed me.
She slowed.
She matched my pace.
My heart was going crazy, beating fit to leave my chest. Surely she wasn't stopping for me?
But I was on the wrong side of the road, the wrong side of the river.
Surely she can't be looking at me? But she's only turned her head this way in the last hundred yards. no, yeah, maybe, why not, its obvious, but...
At the crossing I slowed and looked at her a step ahead of me, as I stopped to cross, I shot her a glance she had stopped too, no not stopped, but almost. She seems to be waiting to see what I'm going to do. I make a bargain, if she crosses I'll speak to her, however much of a fool I make of myself. I swear I'll say hello at least.
I cross, not looking, I don't want to be too obvious.
I step onto the kerb and she isn't beside me, she's still over the road and shes walking away. I think she glances over towards me, just for a second, or is she looking at the people closer?
I toy with the idea of running back, saying hello, taking her picture, asking her name... but I don't. Five minutes later I almost run back... but the moment is gone.

I spend the rest of the day with Smack-Head, we drink expensive beer in several places and watch the football. We talk and look at art, try to sound like we know about it - but we don't. The we go shopping , but buy nothing. We hug and, after we see a lovely girl in the crowd with her dress hitched right up exposing herself in the crown at Oxford Circus, he head off home. I stroll through Soho, get the eye from the one working girl I see, and get a come-on from a woman in the peepshow doorway. Soho isn't like it was when I was a student. The sleaze has gone. It feels like a theme park of the red light district. Gay men rule the area now. Lots of very sexy men just being nice sets the tone.
I eat Japanese curry in a booth on Shatesbury Avenue, I take a tube and get a train home.

The indiscretions a man regrets most in old age are the ones he did not commit.

Happy Father's Day!

Wifey refuses to let me watch football in the bedroom, where the desktop PC is, despite being able to watch her programs downstairs.
Apparently I'm being selfish.

Angry

I read this earlier in the week.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jun/13/mariella-frostrup-unfulfilled-sex-wife-tempted-affair

Well, I've been wanting to write this all week, but I've not been able to be calm enough.
I sympathise with the guy who wrote in, as I'm in a near identical situation myself, except I don't get to go on glamorous trips around the world for work...
But the "advice" he's given... WTF? Is she serious?? The way I read it, and I'm happy to admit I have only been able to read it through a red mist, seems to be "Well, tough, mate... If she doesn't want to give you the things you need, then she doesn't have to and that's fair enough because anything else would upset her and the kids and they are so much more important that you. So shut up and be miserable for everyone elses benefit."

"You don't need me to tell you that spicing up your life requires investment from both parties." Well - D'uh!! This guy is 40. He's probably been with his wife for 10+ years. maybe even 20... and I doubt he's just ignored the problem for all that time before thinking - "Sod it, I'll shag someone else..." Jesus - He's probably agonised, begged, bargained, wept, been "the perfect guy", done everything she's asked and still she can't give him some satisfaction.

"If you're squandering your passion elsewhere, you're unlikely to be making your wife feel well loved or sexy." Yeah, that may be true, or perhaps, just perhaps he's brought her flowers, wine and gifts galore, rubbed her back and feet without ever asking (but always hoping) for anything more, cooked, listened, looked after the kids so she can have some "her time", been the husband/dad from all the adverts who can put up shelves, rescue kittens and look fantastic while cooking a gourmet meal for her... and still she shoves him away when he tries to kiss her.

I also doubt Mariella has ever kissed her hubby with lips so tightly closed he couldn't French Kiss her with dynamite. I doubt she's ever gone into a hug with her arms folded across her chest, and pushed him away by 6 inches - "just in case". I doubt she's ever heard him coming upstairs while shes getting dressed and thrown on clothes while still soaking wet (thereby ruining the linen dress) because there's a risk he might see her naked. I doubt she's worn pyjamas, a t-shirt and a dressing gown tied tightly around her to bed. I guess that the last time she made her husband orgasm (say... about two years ago, by hand) she didn't do it facing away from him and make a noise of disgust when he came, wiping it off her hand as fast as she could. I guess if he asked her she'd know whether he had pubic hair at the moment because she's looked at him recently - not be completely unable to make a guess at whether or not he had shaved a month before. I guess Mariella would know when she last made love to her husband, rather than guessing which year it was. I'd guess that if when he breaks down in tears and tells her he can't go on like this and begs her to help him sort something out, she would actually carry through her solemn promise to get help, and not do nothing and hope he'll forget about it.

I'm not dumb. I know that sex drifts at times in a marriage, sometimes great, sometimes not so. .. But how many years should he wait? 3? 5? 10? Out of the 20 years I've been with my wife I'd estimate we've had an active, normal sex-life for... 2-3 years at the most. The last time we made love regularly was 7 years ago. The last time we made love was nearly 18months ago. The time before that... another 2 years prior to that. She complained that I wasn't very good last time... I can't imagine why after 5 hours of patient foreplay I couldn't manage to be a romantic hero, complete stud and wonderful husband all at the same time for her.

Would you blame him, or me?

Story of the day.

Cold shower
Poor breakfast
Late in
Jammed machine
Nasty coffee
2 hours clearing blockages
A fight in another department
Bonus to be returned
Late lorry
Late lunch
Ignorant co-worker
Massive spillage of materials
More digging
Clearing
Trying to get finished.
Collect paperwork from HR.
Into car

Elvis Costello "Whats so funny about peace, love and understanding"
Massive increase in volume
Home
Salad
Cider
Pink Gin
Blog
Bed