Random Ramblings of a Fractured Mind

Overwhelmed!

2008-03-06T23:52:00.005Z

Have you ever been in such a need for a hug that it hurt? To be overwhelmed by the feeling that the only thing able to stop and calm your feelings of pent up anger and resentment is that gentle, but firm, squeeze of someone's arms wrapped around you? To have that simple, caring, reassuring action done for you to show that things aren't as bad as they seem; to be shown you're not alone.

That was me, whilst waiting on Monument Bridge, at 5:40pm today. A lone figure in the crowd, silently and patiently waiting for the bus home. Head held high, intently gazing into the middle-distance, all the time feeling like I was crumbling inside.

At that point in time nothing else mattered or was needed. I desperately needed to be able to melt into that invisible person's warm embrace. The embrace that would make me come back to reality and to my senses. It would have allowed me to forget all the worries of my day; to blot out the tiredness and weariness of events going on around, and because of, me; to allow for a small oasis of serenity in the spinning vortex that seems to be my existance at the moment.

My Thoughts Exactly!

2006-12-15T00:18:00.000Z

Occasionally - certainly not as often as I'd like - I'm able to get my hands on a copy of tenfootCity. This is a magazine that "... reflects a unique, inspiring, challenging and creative city that stands alone, at the end of a long dark corridor; an enclave of true reality, that is called Hull. A place that harbours a special lifestyle, distinctive accent and exclusive sense of humour. The aim of this magazine is to highlight and encourage all of the vibrancy of life that exists herein." It's also a damn good read!

For those of you who don't read it, or can't get a copy, here's an article from the latest edition. It mirrors my thoughts about the current season exactly.

Scam Alert!

2006-12-13T23:21:00.000Z

I got this email at work today. In the light of its content, I thought it only best that I report it here. Don't say you haven't been warned!

Subject: Wickes DIY SCAM

A "heads up" for men who may be regular Wickes customers.

Over the past month I became a victim of a clever scam while out shopping. Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to be quite traumatic. Don't be naive enough to think it couldn't happen to you!

Here's how the scam works:

Two seriously good-looking 20-21 year-old girls come over to your car as you are packing your shopping into the boot. They both start wiping your windshield with a rag and Windex, with their breasts almost falling out of their skimpy T-shirts. It is impossible not to look.

When you offer them a tip, they say "No" and instead, they ask you for a ride to another Wickes or Homebase. You agree, and they get into the back seat.

On the way, they start having sex with each other. Then one of them climbs over into the front seat and performs oral sex on you, while the other one steals your wallet.

I had my wallet stolen on November 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 20th & 24th. Also December 1st, twice on the 3rd and three times just yesterday ... and very likely again this upcoming weekend.

So ... be careful!

Stuck For Christmas Presents?

2006-12-12T22:15:00.000Z

At a loss for something to get for your Great-Aunt Fanny or Uncle Bob? Well, give them a Condom Plant!

Click the link here or up there and watch how to make one.

Gym Update 2 : Body Composition Analysis

2006-12-11T23:29:00.000Z

Remember this? I gave this update back in October 2005 of my 'project' that I'd started in August of that year. Well, I reckon it's time for an update.

A lot has happened since I gave that update, mainly bad, some good. One thing that I've tried to keep going with is my gym time. At times it was difficult, yeah. For a while I was just 'going through the motions' of turning up, doing a few half-hearted sets, and then sloping off to the spa pool for a laze around. This soon became obvious when my weight increased (my personal Hell value of 18 stone wasn't too far away at one point), my stamina and strength decreased, and my self-esteem went through the floor. However, since my late Summer trip to the Isle of Man (ooh, I never told you about that one did I? Must remember to write it down at some point), I've taken a serious look at my gym routines. I'm pleased to say that I've since lost all the weight - and more - that I gained, and am feeling more healthy than I have in a long time.

Occasionally, I've been using the Tanita BCA machine at the gym on a regular basis and, on Saturday morning, I found I'd reached one of my personal milestones. I'm now below 16 stone. Here's the full results ...

I know it's only a couple of pounds below but, for me, it's great news, and such a boost. In the next few days I'm going to get a few measurements done so I can see numerically how my body has changed. I certainly know that I need to consider a small waist in jeans.

What Sarah Said

2006-12-04T23:40:00.003Z

This is the song that first drew me to Death Cab For Cutie. Also from their 2005 album, Plans, it's about a man in the Intensive Care Unit of a hospital who's got someone very close to him there that's dying, and realising that 'love is watch someone die'. As one commentator wrote, "It's a song about losing someone, someone dying, about connecting on a different level because you know that [your] loved one will be gone soon".

So that you know, the words that appear in the video are the French version of "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not", and are:

il m'aime (he loves me)
un peu (a little)
beaucoup (a lot)
passionement (passionately)
a la folie (insanely)
pas du tu (not at all)

And it came to me then that every plan
Is a tiny prayer to Father Time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU
That reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself
That I’ve already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD
Took you a little farther away from me
Away from me

Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend
On a faulty camera in our minds
And I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose
Than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground
As the TV entertained itself

'Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes round and everyone lift their heads
But I’m thinking of what Sarah said
That love is watching someone die

So who's gonna watch you die?

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

2006-12-03T23:55:00.000Z

There are few songs that send a very real shiver down my spine. This is one of those songs. It's by an American group called Death Cab For Cutie. This track is from their 2005 album, Plans.

Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark

If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles brusied by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back

If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes
are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
In the blackest of rooms

If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark

Attaining Legality, Stage One

2006-07-18T23:46:00.000Z

The Son turned 18 today. Quite a momentous occasion for him (of course), but also for me as a parent. Although every birthday and significant date within a child's life is important to his/her parents, there are certain ones that are more significant than others. Their first birthday/Christmas/day at school/change of school (i.e. Primary -> Secondary)/thirteen/sixteen/leaving school ... you get the idea. Eighteen, for me, is one of those MAJOR major milestones dates in their life. This one, being the first time a child of mine has reached it, is doubly important to me.

Looking back over the last eighteen years at all the ups and downs that have taken place brings quite a lump to my throat. I could spout cliches and instances ad infinitum, about how no one could have thought that "... a baby that size could grow into ..." or how it was "... a shot out of the left field that ...", but I won't. I have my memories of the past years safely stored; to write about them here would only make as to cheapen them. I don't mean that in a bad way, but I just don't see the need to relate a story here for the sake of it.

Anyway, getting back to the day in question. Truthfully, the way things have turned out, this certainly wasn't the way I'd pictured spending my son's 18th birthday. Of course, it couldn't be helped. He's away at college, currently in the throes of taking his end-of-year exams so a trip for either of us in either direction wouldn't be practical or feasible. I was able to speak with him this evening, though. He was happy to report that he'd had a good day with his friends. They'd gone to the beach this afternoon and had a small party and a barbecue. (No alcohol, as he's got a sailing exam in the morning.) I'm glad that he's been able to spend it as he wanted. (We'd tried to arrange for a small, semi-surprise, gathering here last weekend, but he scuppered those plans by announcing that he wouldn't be coming home until the end of July when he finishes college. Best laid plans, and all that!)

I'm so proud to be able to call him "my son", and proud of what he's made of his life. A parent wishes his/her child all that they weren't able to have/do in their life ... so far, he's done more and been further than I've been in mine. I don't regret that, or wish things could have been different. Far from it. Wherever he is, and whatever he's doing, he'll always be my only son.

One thing I will share is a 'pet' name I had for him (and I still call him it from time to time) ... Spud. Why? Well, he's my 'chip off the old block' ... chips are made from potatoes ... nickname for potatoes? Spud! Follow the logic. It works.

Torn

2006-07-15T23:11:00.000Z

This weekend started badly, and has got worse! I really can't wait to see what is going to happen to me tomorrow. I'm sure it's going to be perfectly wonderful ... NOT!

Friday night was the first time since the break-up two months ago that I went out onto the local scene. The night was bad, mainly, because three of the places I went in The Ex was there. I thought I was ready to handle seeing him again, but I was wrong. Not a good experience. Certainly not one I want to repeat for quite a while. The other part that turned it into a bad night was the total realisation that I really do not like the scene here. Puddles truly have more depth.

Anyway, Saturday morning, I went to the gym. I spent time warming up before going into the Body Step/Body Pump class. I've just got back into the Body Step side of things, and I'm really enjoying them again.

Half way through the fifth track I stepped backwards of the step and, as I put the toes of my right foot onto the floor, I felt an incredibly painful 'pop' in the back of my right leg. The pain traveled both up and down the back of my leg and I nearly fell over.

I initially thought I'd landed badly and tried to carry on, but I found that I couldn't put pressure on my leg at all. I hobbled out to the gym reception and asked for someone to check my leg out. After a quick check, it was suggested that I should go to A&E to have it looked at more closely. Could be a muscle tear, could be a broken bone. One of the instructors gave me a lift to the hospital.

The good news is that it's not a broken bone ... The bad news is that I've torn my Gastrocnemius muscle - the calf to you and me - close to the point where it joins the Soleus muscle.

There was nothing more that the hospital staff could do. It's one of those tears that relies on time to heal it. So, no intense leg-work or running. No cycling or fast walking for at least 4 weeks, possibly 6. As I found, it certainly means no trying to get anywhere at any more speed than snail could do. I can still do upper-body strength training, and swimming. I feel that my legs are rather over developed at the moment anyway (he said bravely), so a rest for them will be good to try and allow the upper half of me to catch up!

The gym staff have been great about it. I went back there this afternoon to pick up the stuff I'd left in the morning, and they're going to sort me out with a gym program whilst my leg repairs itself.

For the record, I'd like to make mention of a couple of "thanks you's" ...

To my great friend J for patiently coping with my outburst and rant last night. OK, it was by text, but the things I was saying on my way home would have given me cause for concern if they'd been said to me.

To all the staff at the gym. It's good to know that they genuinely care for their members. More than that, I feel like I've got friends there.

Submissive Posturing

2006-06-21T23:10:00.000Z

Whilst walking to work the other morning I realised that I spend more time looking down at the pavement than at my level eye-line. The realisation brought a wry smile to my face and a cajoling determination to stop this submissive tendency as soon as possible! I then wondered for just how long I’ve been like that? For how long have I not been seeing the architecture of the buildings around me, or not seeing the blue sky above me in favour of the grey paving slabs under my feet? It was rather worrying that the best I could come up with was "for quite a while".

After a little more thought about it, I came up with the following reasons:

1. I'm a tall man, although I think it was more because I was a tall child. I was head-and-shoulders above others in my peer group whilst at primary school so there was always an innate feeling that I didn’t want to stand or be singled out.

2. I'm not a 'pushy' person. With only a few exceptions (and usually only in close relationships) I don’t foist my opinions upon anyone unless asked to do so. I like the saying "Opinions are like assholes ... everyone has one" (Art Blakey) so I tend not to offer one unless explicitly asked (my opinion, that is, not my ass-hole!).

3. I'm not really a confrontational type of person. Despite having a fierce temper when truely provoked, I try to avoid situations where agression could be involved. I don't mean that in a wimpy kind of way, either. I have seen what violence and needless agressive postuting can do to someone's life, and I refuse to go down the same path. I will stand my ground in an argument, if I feel that I am right in my opinion, but the moment the first punch is thrown, whoever threw that punch, has lost ... whether or not the other person gets up again. There's another phrase I've seen before that goes, "I never enter a battle of wits against an unarmed mind". Presenting your arguments in a clear and consise way, with a level head and a calm voice, will win you more battles with me than you would using your fists.

4. As a 'solo' person, I'm rather anti-social. I find that (for example), once I put my iPod earphones in and switch the music on, I block the outside world out to a rather large degree. Basic instincts remain, of course. I pay attention to traffic passing me by, and make sure I don't walk into anyone, but I tend to see people as if I'm looking at them from behind a frosted window. I see the shapes, but don't register the actual details. Keeping my head down allows me to not make any unwanted or unintentional eye contact.

So where does this leave me? I honestly can't see me changing my habits now (old dogs, new tricks, etc., etc.), but I will try and make more of an effort to see the things around me. I've nothing to be afraid or ashamed of, so it's not through embarrassment I lower my head. I'm no less a man than any one else in this world, so I shouldn't be scared to hold my head up.

I can't believe I'm about to say this on here, but the chorus from the song Walk Tall by, erm, Val Doonican (please don't ask where it came from. It just did.) that I feel applies. It goes ...

Walk tall, walk straight and look the world right in the eye
That's what my mama told me when I was about knee high
She said son, be a proud man and hold your head up high
Walk tall, walk straight and look the world right in the eye

Well, here goes ...

Intriguing Web-Sites 5

2006-06-20T06:41:00.000Z

Here's a site for all you manually gifted people out there. One that will give you plenty of food for thought. It's ...

PimpThatSnack ... is a custom, banging, A1 Tip Top, jamming club fare. It's a sandwich of fun on ecstacy bread wrapped up in a big bag like disco fudge. It doesn't get any better than this.

We take Snacks to their limit, and show what they're capable of with a little ingenuity, a little cash, and a lot of imagination.

I passed the link onto The Daughter, who went away and came up with this:

A giant jazzler! A 12inch white chocolate button covered with a layer of hundreds and thousands. Sadly, I never got to see the actual thing, just the photo. The real article was consumed very quickly by the rest of the family!

I See You Shiver With Antici ... pation!

2006-06-19T10:55:00.000Z

I'm off to the theatre this evening. I'd be lying if I said it was a cultural event, as it's not. I'm going to see ...

I've seen this show a number of times in the past (I know all the moves, sing all the songs, shout at all the correct times!), but this time it's going to be a bit of a different one for me. The Daughter is coming with me. It's her first time at a live show. The Son is miffed as he's up at college and can't get back for it.

Despite my outgoing and bubbly personality (what do you mean I don't have one!?), I tend to avoid the dressing up aspect that goes with the show. I'm sorry, but no power on Earth will get me in a basque, suspenders and stockings, and high-heels! That being said, I don't go dressed ready for a night at the opera. No, I like to think I get into the 'feel' of the show ... just toned down compared to the total (and wonderfully attired) Rocky Horror addicts who become one of the characters for the evening.

As for me this evening, I'm in a bit of a quandry. The friends we're going with (both busty females) are going for the full basque bit (as far as I know), so they're expecting me to dress up as well. I can't, however, decide what to actually wear, and how far to go with it. I'm thinking along the lines of party biker. I'm going to see if The Ex-Wife will apply a bit of slap for me. The Daughter will, probably, disown me on the spot! Her boyfriend is going to be there as well, although he's not sitting with us. How much do I want to embarrass her? (*muwahahahaha*)

(*sings*) I'm just a sweet transvestite ...

An Adventure In Futility

2006-06-18T22:51:00.000Z

I had an argument with our Admin section at work on Friday. Now, I never intended to spend a lot of time here talking about work - my life is more than that (honest, believe it or not) - but it got me so frustrated it clouded my afternoon and kept me thinking about it during the evening, that I felt I had to write it down to clear it out of my head. So, please bear with me on this one ...

The suppliers of one of the systems that I administer asked if it was possible for me to send them a copy of the data that the user department is currently using so that they've got an up-to-date version in case of any system issues. That way, they are able to diagnose any issues easier and, so, provide a speedy and specific solution. It's something I've done before, and the user department are more than happy for this to happen as, in the long run, it helps them to provide a constant, consistent service for the populace of this fair city. Anyway, I dropped the data onto a CD and went down to Admin to ask for suitable packaging for the transport.

I asked for a new, unused, padded envelope. I'd seen that there was a box of used ones (i.e. ones that had been used to send things into the department) nearby, but they were (in my opinion) not fit for use. I would have had to either try and cover the front with sticky labels to hide the previous address/postage details, or rip the details off. That way, I would have, most probably, damaged the envelope totally beyond use. So, I asked for this new envelope.

I was told that they didn't have any, didn't stock any, and I should use one of those previously used ones. I questioned what kind of professional image that would give? The other option was for me to get some petty cash and go buy one. I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing.

In disbelief I went back to my desk and emailed the Admin Manager to question this policy and asked what kind of image we were portraying to our customers if we had to look like poor relations and use tatty stationery? As there were plenty of regular envelopes in stock, I asked how much trouble it would be to keep even a few padded ones on site?

The reply I got was quite staggering. It was pointed out that, because of the umpteen hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of budget cuts that were being made to the department, any saving was welcome! What pissed me off was that the reply started with one of those 'stock' phrases that are supposed to be supportive and understanding, but actually means, "Like I give a shit!" It started, "I accept what you say ..."

I was told that, if a new one was required then, although it's not an issue, I should get one via petty cash.

With the same attitude, my response started with, "As the phrase goes, I hear what you say." I pointed out that I'd had to delay getting the CD out because a £1 envelope was not available, and that I was going to have to take time out of my personal time (i.e. over lunch) to go and get the envelope, package up the CD, and get ready for Admin to arrange for its posting before the end of today. Having a few in stock would have allowed me to get this 15 minute job out of the way early this morning. I questioned their policy again and said, "Maybe I should just use the tatty envelopes in future. I'll just have to ensure I apologise to the customer that, although it appears that I don't give a damn about the quality of the packaging I use, I really do care but I that this council takes recycling to the limit regardless."

I got the envelope - which cost 40p, by the way - and got the CD packed up and ready by 2pm. I got a frosty reception when I took it down. Haha. I'm going to have to go down there tomorrow to ask for the delivery receipt.

Cosmetic Surgery

2006-06-15T23:59:00.000Z

There was a bit of excitement at work on Tuesday lunchtime. The plaster on the first floor ceiling of the main staircase started to come off. (Yes, I know, it doesn't take a lot to get us exicted. Just humour me, please. We need to get our jollies where we can!) A large section decided to part company with the boards it was stuck to and drop on the heads of any unsuspecting ICT workers who just happened to pass underneath it. Fortunately, I don't think anyone was actually hit, but we received a warning not to use the staircase under further notice.

All well and good, of course, but it's "shake your head in wry amusement" funny just how many times you, and how many people as well, forgot to avoid the danger area. What made it worse for the men was that the forbidden zone was right outside the Gents, so we had to traipse around the building to use another loo.

On arriving at work this morning, we were presented with this:

To coin a phrase, we have the decorators in! At least before, we (i.e. the men on the first floor) could carefully go for a wee as the door behind the scaffold is the entrance to the washroom facilities; the way to our room is immediately to the right of it. There was no way we can sneak through now.

So why 'Cosmetic Surgery'? Well, that's just what they are doing. Patching up something old to make it look like something new. The building we're in was an hotel built in 1904 to celebrate the town being granted 'City Status' by Queen Victoria. The pub at the corner of the building is called "City Hotel" as that's what is was, The City Hotel. There are still the original gas lamp fittings on some of the walls, and a few of the doors are the originals as well. They can't be replaced, just as the windows can't be double-glazed, as they are 'listed'. (The whole stairwell itself is built around the lift shaft that was used by the patrons at the time. Immediately behind and to the left of the wall in the previous picture is the place where the lift doors would open for the first floor. As far as I know, the shaft is still there. I don't think it was filled in, just sealed up.)

Anyway, by the end of today the ceiling looked a lot better. Hopefully, tomorrow the work will be completed and 'normal service' will be resumed. I hope so. It's a long hike to the other available one. You've got to plan ahead a bit more and give yourself additional travelling time!

Peace out! (Or should that be 'off'?)

Father's Day Card

2006-06-11T09:36:00.000Z

I know it's not until next Sunday, but this is the card I will be sending to The Daughter:

So Not Me!

2006-06-07T23:58:00.000Z

This is a heads-up to those who know who they are.

This is something that I will NEVER be ... a little camper! I have nothing against those who display their effeminate side (I have some good friends who do), but it's not me, and it's not in my nature. I am a man who likes the company of men. That doesn't make me female.

Point your accusing fingers somewhere else.

Rules Of Engagement

2006-06-06T09:49:00.000Z

Extremely important advice and recommendations to be passed on to wives, girlfriends, fiancés, mothers, sisters, daughters, etc (to all women in general). These rules are to be communicated prior to the World Cup ...

List Of Rules

1. From 9 June to 9 July 2006, you should read the sports section of the newspaper so that you are aware of what is going on regarding the World Cup, and that way you will be able to join in the conversations. If you fail to do this, then you will be looked at in a bad way, or you will be totally ignored. DO NOT complain about not receiving any attention.

2. During the World Cup, the television is mine, at all times, without any exceptions. If you even take a glimpse of the remote control, you will lose it (your eye).

3. If you have to pass by in front of the TV during a game, I don't mind, as long as you do it crawling on the floor and without distracting me. If you decide to stand nude in front of the TV, make sure you put clothes on right after because if you catch a cold, I won't have time to take you to the doctor or look after you during the World Cup month.

4. During the games I will be blind, deaf, and mute, unless I require a refill of my drink or something to eat. You are out of your mind if you expect me to listen to you, open the door, answer the telephone, or pick up the baby that just fell from the second floor ... it won't happen.

5. It would be a good idea for you to keep at least 2 six packs in the fridge at all times, as well as plenty of things to nibble on, and please do not make any funny faces to my friends when they come over to watch the games. In return, you will be allowed to use the TV between 12am and 6am, unless they replay a good game that I missed during the day.

6. Please, please, please!! If you see me upset because one of my teams is losing, DO NOT say "get over it, it's only a game", or "don't worry, they'll win next time". If you say these things, you will only make me angrier and I will love you less. Remember, you will never ever know more about football than me and your so called "words of encouragement" will only lead to a break up or divorce.

7. You are welcome to sit with me to watch one game and you can talk to me during half time but only when the commercials are on, and only if the half-time score is pleasing me. In addition, please note I am saying "one" game, hence do not use the World Cup as a nice cheesy excuse to "spend time together".

8. The replays of the goals are very important. I don't care if I have seen them or I haven't seen them, I want to see them again. Many times.

9. Tell your friends NOT to have any babies, or any other child related parties or gatherings that requires my attendance because:
a) I will not go,
b) I will not go, and
c) I will not go.

10. But, if a friend of mine invites us to his house on a Sunday to watch a game, we will be there in a flash.

11. The daily World Cup highlights show on TV every night is just as important as the games themselves. Do not even think about saying "but you have already seen this ... why don't you change the channel to something we can all watch??", the reply will be: "Refer to Rule #2 of this list".

12. And finally, please save your expressions such as "Thank God the World Cup is only every 4 years". I am immune to these words, because after this comes the Champions League, Italian League, Spanish League, Premier League, etc etc.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Be Afraid ...

2006-06-05T10:50:00.000Z

Depending on your viewpoint, tomorrow is either going to be a totally normal day, or the end of existance as we know it! Yes, we've reached one of those date format days which fills people with dread ... 6th June 2006 or, as it's being portrayed: 6.6.6.

If you're one of the people with a penchant for portents, then this word is for you:

Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia

This is the fear of the number '666'.

Have a good day J

Honourable Mentions

2006-06-04T17:10:00.000Z

This the ex-wife and daughter took part in this year's Race For Life. It was the first time for the both of them. Along with the 5,998 other women and girls that made up the Hull race, they ran/walked the 5km (3.1 miles) in about 45 minutes. Congratulations to them both, it was a pleasing and proud moment for me to see them take part, as well as a enjoyable and rewarding time for them (so they tell me). I think they are both planning to take part again next year.

The Race for Life begin in 1994 for Cancer Research UK when 680 women did the race in Battersea Park, London. This has now grown to a nationwide event and, this year, it was hoped that 750,000 women would take part across 230 events, all happening on the same day. Over the past 12 years, over £100 million in sponsorship has been raised. This year, they have set a very ambitious target of £46 million.

If you know someone who took part and haven't sponsored them ... do it now! If you took part, well done. You should be very proud of yourself.

Although I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Hull FC fan, I watched Hull Kingston Rovers' (our east Hull rugby league rivals) well-deserved 40-36 victory over Warrington Wolves this afternoon to take their place in the semi-finals. Hull KR are the only National League team left in this year's Challenge Cup. Well done to the team on their win. Hopefully, all rugby supporters in the city will unite behind the Robins and support them in their challenge to keep the trophy in the city for another year (Hull FC won it last year).

Alongside KR, Leeds, Huddersfield, and St Helens are the other semi-finalists.

Blessed Are The Forgetful ...

2006-06-02T01:01:00.000Z

... for they shall have done with their stupidities too.
(Nietsche's Beyond Good and Evil, Part VII)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Joel Barish is stunned to discover that his girlfriend, Clementine Kruczynski, has had their tumultuous relationship erased from her mind. Out of desperation, he contacts the inventor of the process, Dr. Howard Mierzwiak, to get the same treatment. But as his memories of Clementine begin to fade, Joel suddenly realises how much he still loves her.

A few months ago, I watched this film with interest. Mainly, it was because Jim Carrey was in it (for a long time I've enjoyed his films and find him a very pleasing and capable actor to watch), but also because the premise of the film intrigued me. The idea that someone's memories of a particular person, event, or occurrence could be 'spot-deleted' was, to me, bizarre and thought provoking. Like 'The Sixth Sense' before it, the twist at the end was good to see.

I watch the film again the other night with a renewed, and re-vitalised, interest. Watching it the first time, I was in a happy and stable relationship. The second time, though, I wasn't, and watched the film with a completely different mindset. I actually sat there and thought, "Yes, if only that were possible".

When relationships end, the loss can be dramatic. Other times, of course, it can be a relief. To spend weeks/months/years* in the company of the same person can be an exhilarating experience, or a life-draining one. When it ends with relief, it's easy to box up the memories and move on with your life without the backward glances into the past, or the panges of remorse for things that once were. When, however, it ends suddenly, without a great deal of expectation, and with more loose ends than a B-movie film plot, it's hard to put away the thoughts and emotion that went with it. Unanswered questions flow relentlessly through your mind like a torrent. Trying to dam them up is next to impossible. Eventually, that dam bursts and, in the silent, dark hours of the night when sleep is far away and your mind is a bee-hive of activity, your find yourself questioning and re-questioning everything; going over and over the events that lead to the break-up, asking when, and why, the end started. At what point did the relationship stop being one of mutual assistance, love, and care, and become one of self-grabbing interest and revolutionary thoughts?

Memories are funny things. Initially, they comfort you with their warm friendliness; wrapping you in that velvet cocoon of images of happier times. These, however, can change. Memories are only as good as the mind that they are stored in. Looking back on childhood memories, I've realised that some of them have been warped and shaped to fit the surroundings of the times at which I look back at them. Times that were difficult have memories in that bring a smile to my face; good times can be clouded by memories of black-ice spots that threaten to trip you up.

Would I really want to cherry-pick the memories of the last 3½ years and delete all the ones that I, currently, find offensive and hurting? It would, most certainly, be a good thing for me to do at the moment. With each passing day, though, the memories fade just that little bit more, and they become easier to live with.

There's a saying: "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger". For me, that is true. All the bad memories I've got, going back all the way I can remember, I've used and built me another piece of armour to block another attack, another vaccination to immunise against a potential re-occurrance.

The version of this saying that I do find amusing is this one: "What doesn't kill you can only fuck you up for a really, really long time". Remember this when all goes wrong and I'm staring at you from that tower through the sight of the laser-guided automatic rifle!

* delete as applicable

How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

Alexander Pope's "Eloisa to Abelard"

65 Really Bad Lines From Novels (Part 4)

2006-05-30T09:52:00.000Z

Well done! You've reached the end! Here are the numbers 49 to 65. I hope you've enjoyed the ride ...

49) Nicolette let the silk blouse fall from her shoulders, wrapped her left leg around John, and deftly cut some cheese.

50) He smelled of pork. Rotting pork, in fact, and lots of it.

51) This time he was prepared for the alien probe, having just finished a seventh bean burrito, a case of Bud, and four packs of Pop Rocks.

52) The graphic crime-scene photo was not pretty, mainly because of the shutter speed.

53) Desiree, the first female ape to go up in space, winked at me slyly and pouted her thick, rubbery lips unmistakably - the first of many such advances during what would prove to be the longest, and most memorable, space voyage of my career.

54) Lashed with duct tape to the side of his stolen hovercraft, her head lolling in the breeze…

55) He fell off the wagon like a frozen turkey from a Goodwill Helicopter.

56) No one knew of Alicia's troubles, because they'd learned to tune her out.

57) Colin slammed the sprightly Vauxhall Vixen into a lower gear as he screamed through the roundabout heading toward the familiar pink rowhouse in Puking-On-The-Wold.

58) And so rosy-fingered Dawn awakened him, first with light counter clockwise strokes, then with gentle kneading, and finally with relentless ticklings that made him rue ever buying her finger paint.

59) Borson crushed a Coke can powerfully with one hand and turned slowly to face the source of the ridicule.

60) He blasted the creature from Xilth, as one pops the head off a zit, except on a much larger scale.

61) "Forgetttabowwwtit" intoned Arnold gutturally.

62) Olive was waiting on the couch, with only a smile and a cucumber sandwich.

63) "Wear something uncomplicated. I'm in no mood for a struggle tonight," he drawled.

64) Though flanked by two swarthy state troopers, Paula found her gaze drawn to the chubby saxophonist.

The Red Button Game

2006-05-27T00:43:00.000Z

Something to keep you occupied over this UK Bank Holiday weekend ...

Brave Man Jokes

2006-05-26T10:24:00.000Z

Sexist, totally un-PC post today ...

What's the definition of the bravest man in the world?

The man who comes home drunk, covered in lipstick and smelling of perfume, then slaps his wife on the backside and says, "You're next, fatty."

Man walks into the bedroom with a sheep under his arm while his wife is lying in bed reading.

Man says, "This is the pig I have sex with when you've got a headache."
Wife replies, "I think, you'll find that is a sheep."
Man replies, "I think, you'll find I was talking to the sheep."

A man walks into his bedroom and sees his wife packing a suitcase.

He asks, "What are you doing?"
She answers, "I'm moving to Sydney. I heard prostitutes there get paid £400 for doing what I do for you for free."

Later that night, on her way out, the wife walks into the bedroom and sees her husband packing his suitcase. When she asks him where he's going, he replies, "I'm coming too. I want to see how you live on £800 a year".

Intriguing Web-Sites 4

2006-05-25T10:06:00.000Z

In graph theory, a planar graph is a graph that can be drawn so that no edges intersect. Here's a wonderful site where the game is based on this theory.

Give it a try and see how many vertices you can sort before your mind explodes!

Planarity

Inked!

2006-05-24T00:08:00.000Z

Well, after (literally) years of umm'ing and arr'ing, pie-crust promises, and half-hearted and abortive attempts, I've gone and got a tattoo. The one I've got is the one I always said I wanted, ever since I first saw it ... the rose from Depeche Mode's Violator album.

Here's a quick phone camera shot I took of it earlier this evening ...

I really didn't know what to expect as I walked through the door, but the experience certainly hasn't left me vowing never to go there again. Yes, it hurt, but in an uncomfortable hurt kind of way. It certainly wasn't the 'grip-the-chair-and-scream' kind of hurt that the lurking doubt in the back of my mind was suggestion it would be like. The worst bits were the leaf extremities as it curls around my arm.

My biggest fear about having this done was that, because it is (to all intents and purposes) a permanent thing, it wouldn't appear as I'd liked/imagined it to be. The stem is cut in two places. I needed to know that it would be a faithful reproduction, otherwise I'd regret it for the rest of my life. But, I need not have feared. The bloke who did it recognised the importance of it and got it spot on. I'm pleased that I've had it done.

For comparison, here's a copy of the original artwork ...

Reservations

2006-05-23T09:27:00.000Z

When two newlyweds turn up at a hotel and enquire after the honeymoon suite, the receptionist asks: "Do you have reservations?"
"Yes," says the bride. "I won't do bondage."

It’s The Arockalypse!

2006-05-22T00:18:00.000Z

I watched the Eurovision Song Contest on Saturday evening. Although I've had a fairly keen interest in this for a few years, I've not really taken the time to shut everyone else around me up and insist that I be given TV time to watch it. This year, however, was different. This year, I wanted to watch it. I wanted to watch it because of these people ...

LORDI

They hail from the Arctic Lapland area of Finland, and are hard rock group ... something that you don't usually associate with Eurovision.

Now, hard rock is also not something I usually listen to. I've got a couple of heavy rock CD's, and I don't dislike that musical genre, but it's never been my first listening choice. Given the option, I'd probably pick a more dance-oriented, pop tune over a rock track every time. That being said, I liked this song.

The song in question, Hard Rock Hallelujah, is a melodic hard rock track and isn't a song you'd expect to find in the contest that is 'Eurovision'. It certainly doesn't sound like most of the regular Eurovision entries. As you can probably tell, Lordi don't look like your typical Eurovision contestants. Heavily made-up (in case you were wondering if these were their real faces or not), they wouldn't be out of place in your gory B-movie slasher flick.

But the music was good. It grabbed the audience's attention, and kept it. Their stage-presence was captivating, and the pyrotechnics were great to see. Despite the usually politically motivated 'block voting' of some countries (the Baltic, Balkan, and Scandanavian countries voted for the ones within close proximity to each other, and hardly anyone voted for the "big four" of UK, France, Germany, and Spain), Lordi was well received by the vast majority of the voting nations.

Congratulations to Lordi, and to Finland. We'll see you in Helsinki in 2007.

I Put A Spell On You ...

2006-05-21T21:23:00.000Z

I've got a new toy. Isn't it fun. My very own Mini Voodoo Kit. Complete with instructions, I can be cursing my enemies (or even just people who hack me off) before you can say, "Mumbo Jumbo"!

So, who's it going to be first? (Sounds of maniacal laughter echoing into the distance ...)

65 Really Bad Lines From Novels (Part 3)

2006-05-20T00:16:00.000Z

Ready for part 3? (Don't worry, only one more batch after this!) Here are numbers 33 to 48 ...

33) Grandpa was belly down in the meadow, taking a close-up of a cow-pie, when lightning struck.

34) The corpse had been shredded, as usual, with coffee beans to throw off the police dogs.

35) Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle compressed by a Thigh Master.

36) I'd always wondered what it was like to wake up naked in a dumpster.

37) The chubby-faced cherub of a niece was stopped abruptly, like a pancake, by the sliding door she had failed to notice, and slid to the floor in a motionless heap.

38) Hoping his lunch hour would provide time for a romp and a digestive biscuit...

39) His thoughts, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.

40) My underwear stuck to my backside like an All-Pro cornerback to a rookie wide receiver as I browsed through the seed catalogue that had mistakenly found its way into my mailbox.

41) Her hair as dark as new tires, her eyes flashing like bright hubcaps, she was driven - fuelled by a single accelerant - the man, Alf Romeo.

42) To escape the grizzly, all Gordon had to do was outdistance his chubby hiking partner, Fred.

43) "Time to leave the Fluffy Forest," said Susan, as she was smashed on crack.

44) On reflection, Angela perceived that her relationship with Tom had always been rocky like the way a squashed toilet roll that goes bumpity bumpity in its holder.

45) Mud squished up between the toes like cappuccino-coloured bog-ooze …

46) They embraced each other as tightly as two-flavour entwined string cheese, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white, Mozzarella.

47) Her mouth was set with pearls adorned with elastic rubies and tuned with minstrel lays, while her bulbous nose gracefully concealed its umbrage, and her eyes imparted a cross-eyed, but radiant glow to the azure of the sky.

48) As she gingerly reached for the constipated gorilla's suppository…

Shop Talk

2006-05-19T09:53:00.000Z

I went into the local Superdrug yesterday lunch time to get refreshments for work (as it turned out: a pint of milk, a couple of cold drinks, and a yoghurt). I went to the checkout and handed over the items. The sales assistant scanned them, told me the cash total required, and then put the four items into one of the biggest fuschia coloured (same colour as the logo here) plastic carrier bags I'd ever seen! It must have been a foot and a half square. I handed over a tenner to pay for them. She looked at the note, then at me, and then said, "Don't supposed you've got anything smaller?" I, with an incredulous look on my face, replied, "I could ask you exactly the same thing about that bag!"

A few days ago I saw that Music Zone were selling off Will & Grace DVD's at the severely reduced price of £2.99 each. That meant that it would be possible to buy an entire series for less than £18.00. I was sorely tempted, but thought I'd wait and see if I really did want them or not. (I like W&G, but I don't know if I can see the worth in permanently having the programmes.)

I called back in yesterday as I was passing, and was pleased to find that they'd reduced them again. Pleased, beacuse if I'd've bought them last week I would have been royally pissed at the further reduction. Now, though, I was happy as they were going for £1.99 each. After scanning the shelves to see which series' they had, I saw that I could get all of the first season for £5.97 as they had special double-episode DVD's for the same price as the regular ones. Instead of having four episodes per DVD, these had eight. A bargain!

I didn't buy them, however, as I still need to get past my feeling of 'just buying for the sake of it'. Maybe today, I will. I'll see.

Birthday Celebrations ...

2006-05-18T00:01:00.000Z

Dateline: Sunday 18th May 1958
Location: Kings Heath, Birmingham, United Kingdom
Event: Birth of the multi-talented person that is
Toyah Ann Willcox

Toyah, happy birthday to you! You've never ceased to amaze and entertain me in the 27 years I've been a fan. I wish for you all you wish yourself, and more.

Deep In The Valley

2006-05-16T13:11:00.000Z

To the buxom (and I mean that most literally) woman who inadvertently had my face pressed into her bosom valley yesterday morning on the bus, I would just like to say, "Thank you!". It’s been a long time since I’ve had that done to me. I now know how Granville feels when embraced by Nurse Gladys Emmanuel.

(I feel I should point out that this happened only because of a bad combination of seating arrangements, crowded public transport, and a keen driver to speed the rocking bus into the city centre.)

Motivational Thought

2006-05-14T09:01:00.000Z

Had a trip over to Leeds yesterday. On my way to get the train back, I called into a card shop on the station concourse and found this card, by Edward Monkton. It made me smile, so I bought it.

65 Really Bad Lines From Novels (Part 2)

2006-05-13T13:00:00.000Z

Right, time for another batch of these lines. Here are numbers 17 to 32 ...

17) The sea raged, the wind howled, and the sand was just plain irritated.

18) We stumbled numbly, dragging behind us the frozen dead corpse of our friend, Bartholomew, whom the hardened permafrost of the tundra had resisted our burying.

19) If it weren't for the knee-high sewage lapping at his dress pants and the confused terrorist spraying automatic gunfire over his head, Johnson could see little reason to change his mind about the wisdom of registering at a two-star hotel.

20) The Prince stood, wondering how her supple lips would feel against his own and contemplated how bad Sleeping Beauty's morning breath would be after one hundred years.

21) The butler did it. Sorry!! I've given the ending away - I couldn't help myself.

22) The thunder sounded like a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage.

23) Thockmorton knew if he were ever to break wind in the echo chamber, he would never hear the end of it.

24) The newest Lady Turnpot descended, her creamy bosom rising and falling like a temperamental soufflé.

25) The sun rose over the Canada geese, feathered rumps mooning the day.

26) She gratefully popped the glass orb back in place with a soft sucking sound.

27) The moment he laid eyes on inmate #472825994, he became a prisoner of love.

28) As the blue screen froze, Capt Kirk vowed never to use a Microsoft system again.

29) The blood dripped from his nose like hot grease from a roasting bratwurst pierced with a fork, except that grease isn't red and the blood wasn't that hot and it wasn't a fork that poked him in the nose.

30) This is a story of twin Siamese kittens, or, more specifically, of their shared appendage; it is a tail of two kitties.

31) It was a dark night on Pluto, a planet nobody had ever taken seriously before.

32) As she pulled Chloe's unmistakable prosthetic arm from under the bed, she knew she'd been played for a fool.

Collective Minds

2006-05-11T23:34:00.000Z

As you can see, I've got a new hobby. Well, ok, it's a re-acquaintance with an old hobby that I lost touch with years ago ... cheap, mass-produced sticker collecting!

My mum gave me it today and I've spent the evening remembering all the fun that I used to have - or at least felt I had - when I used to collect stickers in my childhood. I also remember her complaining about all the duplicate stickers that I had around the place. She'd threaten to throw them out, but I'd never let her as I was convinced I'd find some use for them. Of course, I never did, and they'd eventually end up in the bin ... just like the album (after a while).

This one, however ... this one is different. I'm going to see if I can finish it properly and then keep it as a memento. Doctor Who has grown and matured since being brought back in 2005. My 'first' doctor was the third one, Jon Pertwee, and I watched the series all the way through to the end of the sixth one, Colin Baker. I lost interest with the seventh one, Sylvester McCoy, an only picked it up again with the arrival of the ninth doctor, Christopher Eccleston.

The album gives basic information about all of the 2005 series, the first four episodes of the 2006 series, as well as bio's of the main characters, monsters, and aliens.

This is fun. I feel like a child again. Do yourself a favour and go buy a Radio Times to get the album and your first 6 stickers. Enjoy!

65 Really Bad Lines From Novels (Part 1)

2006-05-06T15:39:00.000Z

(Or really good lines, depending on your preference.)

I got sent this ages ago, but have only just recently found it again. My one regret with these is that the book titles aren't included as I'd love to read them! As 65 is a bit much to take in all in one go, I'm going to split them. (Of course, it also means that, on a 'slow day' I can post another load J)

So, here are numbers 1 to 16 ...

1) Sex with Isaac had been like an experiment wherein she had accidentally mixed ammonia and bleach, burned her eyebrows off, lost all sense of smell for weeks, and never saw the family cat again.

2) McMurphy hit the pavement running like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

3) Had she known Duncan was a psychopath who would seduce, then brutally murder her, she wouldn't have bought that screwdriver.

4) Ralph looked over at the rumpled form of Lila sleeping next to him in bed and wondered idly why making love with her made him feel as though his body had been pounded by heavy surf.

5) In these uncertain times, one must think of others' viewpoints, and always remember that a crowded elevator smells different to a midget.

6) The scent of sweat from the horse's buttock wafted into his left nostril, past the fine cilia of his nose, through the nasal cavity and into the dark damp depths of his single emphysemic lung.

7) Stanley looked quite bored and somewhat detached, but then penguins often do.

8) The potted palm made a feeble attempt at photosynthesis with the naked 25 watt bulb that hung from the cracked plaster of my low-rent office on a less-than-desirable (unless you were vermin) stretch of Pico.

9) He wanted to hold her forever, but he knew eventually that he'd have to take a whizz.

10) Her breasts were like ripe strawberries, but much bigger, a completely different colour, not as bumpy, and without the little green things on top.

11) The sun rose over the horizon like a great big radioactive baby's head.

12) He slumped wearily onto the couch like a sack of shit slung over the shoulder of a warehouse worker.

13) I'm sorry but you still have 873 pages to go.

14) He snapped my bra like a Concord taking off, and I was unhooked for love.

15) The alien was eager to ravage her, unlike Ted, who wanted to take it slow, having come off the heels of a nasty divorce.

16) Lidie Meaks was a medium-sized, elegant figure, wearing a neatly fitted travelling dress of black alpaca, her raven black hair, copious both in length and volume and figured like a deep river rippled by the wind was parted in the centre and combed smoothly down, ornamenting her pink temples with a flowing tracery that passed round to its modillion windings on a graceful time.

Songs of Importance 3

2005-12-02T10:49:00.000Z

Time, I feel, for another insight into the world of my musical tastes. For this one, I’m going right back to the start of my interest in 'popular' music which, at the age of 13, would make me be classed as a very late starter.

'Pop Musik', by 'M', is from 1979, and was one of the first electronic songs I’d heard. The sound of it totally captivated me and set me off on my life-long enjoyment/search for such music. The total meaninglessness of the lyrics seemed to match perfectly the ‘bontempi-style’ of the sound. Through tracks like this I got into groups like Kraftwerk, my love for all things Depeche Mode, and all those other experimental synthesiser groups of the late 1970’s/early 1980’s.

The follow-up to ‘Pop Musik’ was a track called ‘Danube’. I got it copied onto tape by a mate at the time, but have not been able to find it in any format since. If anyone knows where I could find a copy of it please get in touch!

Pop Musik

Get up...
Get down...

Radio, video
Boogie with a suitcase
You're livin' in a disco
Forget about the rat race
Let's do the milkshake, sellin' like a hotcake
Try some, buy some, fee-fi-fo-fum

Talk about, pop musik
Talk about, pop musik

Shoobie doobie do wop
I wanna dedicate it
Pop pop shoo wop
Everybody made it
Shoobie doobie do wop
Infiltrate it
Pop pop shoo wop
Activate it

New York, London, Paris, Munich
Everybody talk about pop musik
Talk about, pop musik
Talk about, pop musik
Pop pop pop musik

Singing in the subway
Shuffle with a shoe-shine
Fix me a molotov
I'm on the headline

Wanna be a gun slinger
Don't be a rock singer
Eenie meenie mynie moe
Tell me where you wanna go

Talk about, pop musik
Talk about, pop musik

Shoobie doobie do wop
Lyin' in the tree
Pop pop shoo wop
Eenee meenie
Shoobie doobie do wop
Lyin' in the tree
Pop pop shoo wop
You know what I mean

Hit it...

Now you know what to say...

Talk about, pop musik
Talk about, pop musik
Pop pop pop musik
Pop pop pop musik

All around the world
Wherever you are
Dance in the street, anything you like
Do it in your car in the middle of the night
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la

Dance in the supermart
Dig it in the fastlane
Listen to the countdown
They're playin' our song again

I can't get jumping jack
I wanna hold, get back
Moonlight muzak
Knick knack paddy whack

Talk about, pop musik
Talk about, pop musik

Shoobie doobie do wop
It's all around you
Pop pop shoo wop
Gonna surround you
Shoobie doobie do wop
It's all around you
Pop pop shoo wop

Hit it...

New York, London, Paris, Munich
Everybody talk about pop musik

New York, London, Paris, Munich
Everybody talk about pop musik

Talk about, pop musik
Talk about, pop musik
Pop pop pop musik

Now...
Listen...
Talk about,
Pop pop pop musik...

Do you read me?
Loud and clear!

Robin Scott (aka 'M'), 1979

Saddle Sore

2005-12-01T23:55:00.000Z

A couple of juvenile scrotes stole my bike seat from outside the gym on Monday evening. There is, evidently, limited CCTV footage of the theft. I've reported it to the police and await the results of their investigation. In the meantime, however, I've had to buy a new seat. I did take the liberty of 'upgrading' the new seat to a gel one that moulds to the contours of the body (ok, it cushions the arse better), so it was slightly more expensive than replacing like for like.

The Other Half - bless him (Ouch! Just hurt my teeth with all that grinding) - bought me this card ...

I'll say no more.

Universal Truths

2005-11-30T00:39:00.000Z

1. Triangular sandwiches taste better than square ones.
2. At the end of every party there is always a girl crying.
3. One of the most awkward things that can happen in a pub is when your pint-to-toilet cycle gets synchronised with a complete stranger.
4. You've never quite sure whether it's ok to eat green crisps.
5. Everyone who grew up in the 1980's has entered the digits 55378008 into a calculator.
6. Reading when you're drunk is horrible.
7. Sharpening a pencil with a knife makes you feel really manly.
8. You're never quite sure whether it's against the law or not to have a fire in your back garden.
9. Nobody ever dares make cup-a-soup in a bowl.
10. You never know where to look when eating a banana.
11. Its impossible to describe the smell of a wet cat.
12. Prodding a fire with a stick makes you feel manly.
13. Rummaging in an overgrown garden will always turn up a bouncy ball.
14. You always feel a bit scared when stroking horses.
15. Everyone always remembers the day a dog ran into your school.
16. The most embarrassing thing you can do as schoolchild is to call your teacher mum or dad.
17. The smaller the monkey the more it looks like it would kill you at the first given opportunity.
18. Some days you see lots of people on crutches.
19. Every bloke has at some stage while taking a pee, flushed half way through and then raced against the flush.
20. Old women with mobile phones look wrong.
21. It’s impossible to look cool whilst picking up a Frisbee.
22. Driving through a tunnel makes you feel excited.
23. You never ever run out of salt.
24. Old ladies can eat more than you think.
25. You can't respect a man who carries a dog.
26. There's no panic like the panic you momentarily feel when you've got your hand or head stuck in something.
27. No one knows the origins of their metal coat hangers.
28. Despite constant warning, you have never met anybody who has their arm broken by a swan.
29. The most painful household incident is wearing socks and stepping on an upturned plug.
30. People who don't drive slam car doors too hard.
31. You've turned into your dad the day you put aside a thin piece of wood specifically to stir paint with.
32. Everyone had an uncle who tried to steal their nose.
33. Bricks are horrible to carry.
34. In every plate of chips there is a bad chip.
35. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

The Shortest Fairy Tale

2005-11-29T23:59:00.000Z

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy "Will you marry me?" The guy said, "No."

And the girl lived happily ever after, and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook and farted whenever she wanted.

The End

Shameless Plug 1

2005-11-27T20:31:00.000Z

This isn't a plug for 'Shameless' (Channel 4's offbeat drama about an anarchic Manchester family - good though it is), it's a plug for The Other Half's fan-site dedicated to Dead or Alive, the long-lived, Glam dance band fronted by the '... aggressive, enigmatic androgyny ...' that is Pete Burns. Arguably, this is (in my opinion) the best site to look at for facts and information about the band, as well as the only place for a range of fan-created artwork and fictional stories.

Go check it out, listen to the music, and re-live your memories as well as updating your appreciation for this group ...

Dead or Alive UK Information Station

(I'm going to place the link in my 'Alternative History' list so it'll be easily available once this post has disappeared of the bottom of the page.)

Normal Service Will Be Resumed ...

2005-11-20T10:14:00.000Z

... as soon as possible.

I'd like to apologise for the lack of posts on here recently. Life has been a bit hectic around me over the past week or so, and I've just not been able to catch up with things here. On top of it all I'm away this week helping my sister move house so, until I'm back next weekend, sit back, put your feet up, have a cup of tea, and enjoy the muzak that is gently playing in my head.

Pot Calling The Kettle ...

2005-11-14T11:52:00.000Z

I saw this the other morning ...

A cyclist swore at a car driver as he rode past the top of my road because the car was being reversed, the wrong way, out of the one-way street. The cyclist then promptly turned right into the oncoming traffic on the main road - a dual carriageway - just so he wouldn't have to cycle the extra 20 feet or so to the intersection!

Intriguing Web-Sites 3

2005-11-11T12:15:00.000Z

Click here to give that crazy frog the beating he deserves!

For the good of humanity!

Mother Knows Best (PG Rating)

2005-11-10T18:45:00.000Z

How many times, whilst growing up, did your mum say to you, "Don't do that, you'll hurt yourself!"? A few, I bet. Well, last night, the words of my mum came back to haunt me.

I decided to have some soup for my tea. After choosing on the one I wanted (a rather nice Butternut Squash one, incidently) I opened the tin, put the contents in a bowl, and put that in the microwave to heat up. Whilst I was waiting I went to throw the tin away but, seeing that there was some of the soup left over on the inside of the tin lid, I licked it. And therein was my problem. I managed to make an inch long (2.5 cm for your metric people out there) cut down the centre of my tongue. Ouch!

At first I thought I'd just scraped it, but no. Within a couple of seconds I could taste blood ... and quite a lot of it. I went to the bathroom to inspect the damage and spent a deal of time over the bathroom sink spitting blood out, whilst trying to rinse my mouth with cold water. Realising that that wasn't having a great effect I tried the next option that came to mind ... ice. Freeze the bugger and stop the flow that way. Going back to the kitchen, I raided the freezer. A couple of ice-lollies later (well, I didn't have any ice-cubes) and the flow seemed to have slowed. Temporarily abandoning the idea of my soup, I made the effort to move/use my tongue as little as possible until the blood had stopped. A couple of hours later I was able to re-heat the soup and eat it.

I've now got a (as you can see) a nice white line of dead tongue cells covering the gash. It doesn't hurt, but I'm being careful as to just what I put into my mouth at the moment. Nothing too hot or bitter as that tends to make me remember that it's there.

So, the moral ... in future listen to your mother, she may spout a load of tosh at times but, sometimes, what she says is really for your own good!

Marriage of True Minds

2005-11-09T21:45:00.000Z

My life has been turned on its head once again. This time, however, it's a turn for the better. No, it's better than 'better'; it's fantastic! The Other Half (previously known as The Ex) and I have been reunited.

To cut a long story short, we met for a drink last Friday night and, after (more) long discussions about all the reasons why we'd split in the first place, and what we can do to work them out, we agreed to try again. (This sounds rather cold and clinical, I know, but it wasn't like that. It was a rather emotional, yet heart-lifting evening; believe me, I know, I was there!)

We have had many talks over the weekend and have aired our grievances, worries, and concerns, and have (I feel) reached mutual ground on them. In some places, yes, there are the 'finer points' that need to be worked out but, in the main, we're back together. I'm so happy it's difficult to put it into words without getting far too into "sick bucket" territory, but each of us knows just how we feel about the other.

To the dissenters and doubters out there (and you know who you are), give us time to prove that we are meant for each other. Despite (or maybe even inspite of) all the ups and downs of our history together, we are best when we are together ... of that there is no doubt!

Whilst thinking about what I wanted to say on here, I came across the following Shakespearean Sonnet. I feel it's got a message for me, so that's why I've repeated it here. I've included the translation so that it may be easier to understand.

Sonnet 116: Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Sonnet 116 Translation

I would not admit that anything could interfere with the union of two people who love each other. Love that alters with changing circumstances is not love, nor if it bends from its firm state when someone tries to destroy it. Oh no, it's an eternally fixed point that watches storms but is never itself shaken by them. It is the star by which every lost ship can be guided: one can calculate its distance but not gauge its quality. Love doesn't depend on Time, although the rosy lips and cheeks of youth eventually come within the compass of Time's sickle. Love doesn't alter as the days and weeks go by but endures until death. If I'm wrong about this then I've never written anything and no man has ever loved.

Many thanks to No Sweat Shakespeare for their help in translating this.

With Or Without A View?

2005-11-04T00:56:00.000Z

It doesn't hurt to take a hard look at yourself from time to time, and this should help get you started.

During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director what the criterion was which defined whether or not a patient should be institutionalised.

"Well," said the Director, "we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub."

"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup."

"No." said the Director, "A normal person would pull the plug."

Do you want a room with or without a view?

Can't Believe I Forgot The RU21's*

2005-11-02T08:24:00.000Z

As I was asking for ideas about what I should have done on Saturday, I thought it best I report on just what happened during the evening.

For me, the overall result of the night was a success. I got to go out on my birthday weekend, and I had plenty to drink with some very nice, pleasant, yet fun people. I'd certainly put my name down again without hesitation. Selfishly, I was noticed and (as I've been told since) I'm a decent bloke to have a pint or two with.

So, what actually happened? Well, having first stop off for a pint in a pub in the city centre (for courage, you know) - and having listened to a very interesting conversation coming from the booth next to where I was sat (but that's not for here**) - I made my way to the gym to meet up with everyone. There were a few there, but the majority seemed to have decided to meet and eat in a pub further down the road and to pick the coach up from there. I sat and chatted to some of the few that were there, and we talked about our expectations for the evening. I won't bore you with all the general, group-dynamic type details but, needless to say, the coach came, approximately 75 people got on, and we went to Leeds.

The intention of the night was to spend the first few hours wandering around the pubs of the city before heading over to the club for the remainder of the night. We got dropped off outside the first pub - Squares - whilst the coach headed over to the club in readiness for the end of the night. It was a good starting place. The place and the staff had been decorated out for Halloween. My only concern was that the 'horror' idea was being taking a little too literally. A woman getting served before me ordered a glass of wine. This was duly poured and presented. As she picked it up the glass cracked and a section fell out spilling some of the wine on the counter. The bar-sheghoul took back the glass, looked into the remaining contents, and then poured the rest of the wine into another glass. Handing it back to the woman, she started looking for the next punter to serve. I couldn't quite believe that (a) she was giving the same drink back even though it looked like there were no shards of glass floating in there, and (b) that she didn't even bother to top up the drink to replace the stuff that had been spilled on the counter. If it had been my drink, I would have asked for a fresh drink. The woman didn't.

We stayed there for about 45 minutes or so. A couple of pints, a WKD Red, and a vodka and Red Bull later we wandered out and over the street to the first of two Yates pub visits of the night. I used to think that, you go in one Yates pub, you go in them all. This one, however, was different. The place was bright for a start. Well-lit, and without the seediness. We got more drinks and headed up to the balcony area above the main room. The resident-DJ was playing Halloween related tunes and put on a couple from The Rocky Horror Show. To my shock, whilst listening to 'Sweet Transvestite' one of the blokes asked where this song was from?! I couldn't quite believe that he'd said that. I thought that everyone knew Rocky Horror. I guess that film has passed the early-twentysomethingers by. Such a shame.

Anyway, I spent a little time trying to help a mate part a woman from her boa ... but without success. He'd decided to spend the night seeing just what paraphanalia he would be able to get from the unsuspecting female drinkers. He'd already got an angel's halo on a wire, and was hoping for this boa. The female owner, though, was having none of it.

We laughed at his effort and commiserated his failure as we moved on to Flares. What a great place that was. Or was it just the drink starting to take hold? A 1970's disco place, with all the cheesy stuff you'd expect thrown in for free! At the bar you could even buy fake moustaches, chest and head wigs, and big gold medallions. Once I'd got my drinks (yes, plural. I realised early on - at the first pub - that if I was going to be able to spend more time in the pub instead of at the bar, I'd have to start buying my drinks in one go), I went to use their toiletry facilities. After the initial worry that I'd left the toilet-to-toilet timespan a little too long as I fought my way through the press of the crowd, I managed to get there and relieve myself without mishap. I went to wash my hands and there was one of those toilet attendant fella's there with his range of aftershaves, lotions, potions, and chewing gum. I asked why he hadn't any Chupa Chup lollies left. He laughed, apologised, and then sprayed me with the one aftershave I really don't like ... Joop! It's one of those smells that I associate with a bad memory, so I try to avoid it as much as I can. Even smelling it on someone else tends to have me making a move in the opposite direction. I thanked him pleasantly enough, and halved the tip I was going to give him. Going back to the crowd, I (think) gained some brownie points when I taught some of the females how you're supposed to move when Mud's "Tiger Feet" is being played. Still with the idea of helping my mate get his boa, I flirted with a woman with one around her neck.

Before being able to ask about it, though, I was dragged away and out into the street. At this point, things broke down a little. I'm not too sure where we were supposed to be heading, as the two gym staff who had arranged it all managed to lose each other somewhere between Yates and Flares. Without fully knowing which direction was best, we heading (apparently) in the general direction of the club. When it was realised that there was at least another hour before we'd get in the place, we stopped at The Slug And Lettuce. Can't say much about the place as the visit there was brief. It was another bar, it was rather dark, we drank alcohol.

Happily, for the group, the rest of the party had got the same idea and we were all reunited there before moving on to Revolution. Now, I've always got big hopes whenever there's a Revolution available. (See Tales From The Bar.) Unfortunately, this night my Lady In Red wouldn't be seeing me. We all got turned away from the place because someone, so I was told, had mentioned that we were part of the this gym group. No, I don't fully understand it either.

We were herded over to the second Yates of the night instead. Now, whilst we were in there, I (somehow) managed to acquire the Devil's Horn you see here. Please don't ask how it came to be in my possession as I can't quite remember. I remember there being a group of us and we were chatting with some Leeds ladies. One of them, I guess, took a shine to me and started flirting. I remember questions being asked, a hand on my bum, and a true friend (whoever he was) making my excuses as we headed for the door. I realised I had (excuse the pun) the Horn in my pocket when we got back on to the coach at the end of the night. The other thing I remember about this place was a packet of Nobby's Sweet Chilli Nuts. The things you eat when you're out of your tree!

Anyway, it was now clubtime. The club chosen for the night was Creation. All in all, a wise choice. Supposed to consist of five different rooms (although, I could only find three) offering five different choices of music styles, I was looking forward to this place. As I'm the type of club-person who gets bored within half an hour of getting there, I wanted to see what it would be like knowing that I couldn't go home early. After getting a drink, I spent a little while checking out the place and seeing just what was there. I stayed in the biggest room (the Main Arena) for some time, enjoying the dance music. That room has a raised area at one end with a bar on it, so I was able to watch the happenings on the floor below me, whilst not having to wander far for alcohol. (Always a bonus!)

One of the things that makes me sad in a club is how they fleece the non-alcohol drinker. Why, if you've either had enough to drink and you want to stay there but only have soft drinks or, you're the "designated driver" for the night and have to only drink the soft stuff, do they insist on making it more expensive for you!? I fell into the first group. I'd decided that I'd had enough, so I thought I'd switch to water for the remainder of the night. I went to the bar to get a bottle .. and was practically floored when they charged me £3 for a 50cl bottle! Three quid! It would have been cheaper to stay on the alcohol. Totally ridiculous. Who needs coffee and soft drinks to sober you up. Drop a hefty cost for a cheap drink on you and you sober up in no time.

I went for a walk around the place and ran into the woman from the first bar (the one with the broken glass). She asked if I wanted to dance. I tried to say no, but she dragged me onto the dance floor anyway. Now, I'm not a wonderful dancer. With the right music, just the right amount of beer in my bloodstream, and the right company I can move reasonably well. However, by now the music wasn't to my liking, and I was still in a bit of a stump about the drink price, so my motivation to dance was all but zero. I tried my best, honestly I did, but I could tell she wasn't overly impressed. Never mind, I'd be able to go wander off again soon. But, no, she wanted to go sit and talk. Little alarm bells started sounding in my head. A really nice woman, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't able to give what she was looking for. I made my excuses and explained the situation. We sat and talked for a while - it turns out she lives a couple of streets away from me, but doesn't go to the same gym - and then made our way to the coach. She asked if I'd sit near her on the way home. I did, but we both fell asleep once we got out of Leeds.

And that was it. I'd say "in a nutshell" but it'd have to be a ruddy great bit nut! I got a taxi home and fell into bed just before 4am GMT (5am BST) and slept soundly until mid-morning.

*RU21: Avoid Hangovers!
**Marjorie Dawes

Nearly: 27th October 1966 – 1st November 2004, RIP

2005-11-01T00:32:00.000Z

A year ago today I nearly died. If it wasn’t for the fast thinking of The Other Half (hereafter known as The Ex) I would have been pushing up the daisies and have joined the Choir Eternal.

The official diagnosis was 'Anaphylactic Shock brought on by reasons unknown'. I’ve since had various allergy tests, but they found nothing more serious than I'm liable to have minor allergic reactions to cat and dog hair, house dust-mite, pollen, and shrimp. I didn't know about the house dust-mite and pollen (never suffered from hay-fever), but I had an inkling about the cat and dog hair allergy, as I’ve always found that I tend to get that 'stuffy nose' feeling around them. The shrimp allergy is also a completely new one to me as I've never eaten it in my life.

The events of the night are still clear in my mind. It being a Monday I'd gone to the gym, as usual, and had taken part in the Step and Body Pump classes. After having a shower, and before leaving the place, I'd rung The Ex and arranged to go home and collect my necessary things for the next day, before cycling back to his for the evening.

This I did. The journey home was uneventful. Although we'd arranged to eat at his, I felt peckish once I'd got home. Quickly looking in the cupboard, I chose a slice of bread and a coconut tart and snacked on them as I got my things together. As tends to happen after the gym, my body takes a while to cool down; even more so when I'm cycling to/from the place as well. Tonight, I'd cycled. Rather than changing my t-shirt at home, I put a dry one in my bag and decided that I'd change it there once I'd cooled down and dried off.

Hopping back on my bike, I got ready to cycle back into town. As I was leaving home, I felt an itch on my left hip. Taking a quick look, it looked like a 'heat bump'. Assuming it was just because of the exercise and the damp clothing, I gave it quick scratch, got onto my bike, and set off.

During the ride the itch didn't go away. By the time I'd got to The Ex's it seemed to have spread a little. Annoyed, but still unconcerned, I tried to put it out of my mind. Within a couple of minutes or so, the itchy feeling had spread down the back of my legs. I removed my trousers to get a better look. The 'heat bumps' were all appearing down my legs and around my waist. The itching was getting worse, and I started to get concerned. I still only thought that it was a serious heat rash, though, and decided to jump into a cool bath and try and take the heat out that way. That didn’t work. By now, The Ex was concerned as much as I was (if not more), so I agreed to phone the doctor. I got out of the bath, got dried, and put a dressing gown on. I rang my doctor’s number and was transferred to the local night-service. By this point I was starting to find it a bit difficult to take a full breath, so I used my Ventolin inhaler a couple of times. Whilst explaining the events of the evening and the symptoms, I felt dizzy and had the overwhelming need to lie down. A blackness started to descend around the edges of my eyes; like I was going to faint. I passed the phone to The Ex for him to carry on talking with them, and stumbled through to the bedroom to lie down.

The next thing I knew, there was a paramedic calling my name and trying to coax me awake. It turned out that The Ex had followed me into the bedroom and, it seems, seen that I had stopped breathing. He immediately dialled '999' for an ambulance, and then had been slapping and shaking me to get me awake and breathing.

I groggily got up and felt an incredible, and urgent, need to use the toilet. Much to everyone's concern, I wouldn't let anyone in the room whilst I was in there. (Sharing your toilet experiences is not something I am ever prepared to do!) They kept me talking through the closed door until I came out. I was then put into the ambulance and driven to the local infirmary.

(Just as a point of note, this may sound like it took a long time but, in reality, for me leaving my house to the calling of the paramedics was no more than 30 minutes. At least half of the time being the cycle from home to town.)

At the infirmary they gave me oxygen, anti-histamine, and adrenaline to help me breathe, combat the rash, and keep me awake. During this time The Ex, wonder that he was, rang my mum (who was staying with my sister at the time) and The Ex-Wife to let them know what had happened, and arranged for some of my things to be brought in as I only had the dressing gown I was wrapped up in. I lay on the trolley in A&E and let things happen around me, only partially aware of just what was happening.

Eventually, I was put in a bed in the Acute Assessment Unit for overnight observation. By this time I was full awake and totally aware of what was happening and, also, what had happened. After a peaceful night's sleep – albeit on a slightly undersized bed for my length – I was discharged from the AAU the next morning. My mum, bless her, travelled up overnight from my sister's and met me to take me home.

Apart from a minor, again reason unknown, re-appearance of the rash on Christmas Day, happily I've not had any re-occurrence. I return to see the consultant on 22nd December for, all being well, a clean bill of health and a discharge. It is possible, but not proved, that it was either (a) the exercise/rushing around combination, or (b) the coconut tart, that was the root cause. Unfortunately, it may never be known. I've not had any nut allergy before, and have since had all the nuts I usually eat (peanuts, brazils, etc), but have avoided coconut ... just in case. I exercise just as hard now (maybe even more so) as I did that night.

I now regularly carry around a Ventolin inhaler and some Piriton (anti-histamine) tablets, just in case they are needed. They, I've been told, should be sufficient to contend with any further incidents as long as I take them as soon as I realise something isn’t right.

I want to record my most heartfelt and profound thanks to The Ex for his actions that evening, and in the days that followed. He saved my life that night. Without him being there, chances are that I wouldn't be here today.

Web link: Anaphylaxis

Wild Essence

2005-10-31T11:35:00.000Z

This is just a month away now. I can't wait. The first time that Toyah has 'offically' released a live DVD. It was filmed on the 16th September in Wolverhampton. Sadly, for me, I was unable to get there but, from what I've heard since, it was a fantastic night ... as I've found at other live concerts of her's.

The Die Has Been Cast

2005-10-29T13:37:00.000Z

Right, the decision has been made. I'm going to Leeds. As it seemed that Fate had a hand in it, I'm not going to dispute her! After the workout, I asked the bloke organising the evening whether there were any spaces left and, it seems, someone had just cancelled. So, I've paid my money, and made my choice.

Here's hoping for a good night.

So Now What ... ?

2005-10-29T09:10:00.000Z

I'm at a bit of a loss as to just what to do today. It's my 'birthday weekend' and I don't know what to do with it. It's the first time in 3 years that I've spent this weekend alone. Strange sensation. Previous years have seen me out and partying throughout the weekend (ie Friday-Sunday) but, this year: (a) The Best Friend has gone to over to the continent on the ferry for a short break; (b) The Ex is incommunicado; and (c) The Family, and other friends, are off doing their own things.

I have got a few options:

1. The gym I go to are having a night out in Leeds tonight. I've thought about going, but I'm worried that I'll spend the evening with that 'alone in a crowd' feeling. As the total time with them would be around 9 hours (leave at 6pm, return by 3am), it's a long time to be feeling like that.

2. I've got transport today, so I could go for a drive out. But, for once, I don't really feel like doing that.

3. Phone and bug a few friends to see if I can cajole them into changing their plans ... well, it is my birthday!

4. Stay home.

Ah, well, I'm going to do the one positive thing I can do. I'm going off to the gym now. I'll spend some time thinking about it there.

Any suggestions would be gratefully received!

State of the Nation

2005-10-27T00:00:00.000Z

It’s my birthday today! (There’s cream cakes in the kitchen, and alcohol in the fridge … help yourselves. I may indulge a little later on.) I’ve officially been on this planet for 39 years. This does, however, mean that I’m going to be 40 in 12 short months time. I don’t intend to get maudlin about it, but I think it’s time I start to reflect a little on the time gone by and what, if anything, needs to be done before I reach that, so called, ‘life beginning’ point.

So, what have I gotten out of my existence so far?

ü A decent education thanks to the State and my parents. My mum was a teacher so even when not at school my sister and I were being educated. I was one of those freaky children who enjoyed school and got on well with it. Sadly, I let the system (and, of course, myself and my parents) down in the end by giving up during my final year, leaving - after 11 years of toil and hard-work – with only 3 ‘O’ Levels in Music, Chemistry, and Physics.

ü Only having been out of work for one week in my entire working life. After school I went to college, abandoning the childhood ideas of life as a train driver, a cruise ship’s purser (thanks to ‘The Love Boat’), a Royal Navy sailor (much to the chagrin of my dad), a long-distance lorry driver (that one is still there in the back of my mind, though), and a whole host of other non-starters. I fixed my mind on getting involved in the finance/banking industry. Having, however, failed miserably to get any relevant qualifications I had to take a ‘year out’ to get the Further Education equivalent of the English and Maths qualifications I needed so that I could try and get back on track with the money dream. It was whilst on that Business Studies course that I was introduced to computers. Upon successfully completing the course, my career path switched onto a whole new fork and I enrolled on a part-college/part-work placement computer studies course. The company I got placed with kept me on. Starting on the princely sum of £3,000 per year, I worked for them from 1985 until its liquidation in 1988. The company that bought them out took me on. I was with them until I left to join the local council I’m with now in January 1990. My only week as a ‘doley’ was in the first week in January. I wasn’t to start with the council until the 8th. I left the employ of the previous company at the end of December 1989, so claimed a week’s unemployment benefit to help tide us over.

ü Having two of the finest children any man could ask for. I met my wife when I was still at school. We went, respectively, to Boys’ and Girls’ Brigade. These are twin, international church-based organisations that want to provide fun and activities under the umbrella of the Christian beliefs and doctrines. I started there in 1974, when I was 7. (I left when I was 29, but that’s a story for later on.) We met when I was 14, and she was 15, through the Brigades’ marching bands that we were members of. We married in 1987, and had 2 children (1 boy and 1 girl). Without much bitterness and recriminations, we split and divorced in 1996/97. I am fiercely proud of both of my children. They have always been a major part of my life. They will always be a major part of my life for as long as they want to be. The Son – now 17 – I’ve written something about. He’s a tall bloke, like me, who did well at school and, hopefully, will go on to greater things in his chosen Merchant Navy career. The Daughter – who’s 14 – is a ‘proper little madam’ (and I say that with love). She’s cut out to be a dancer or stage performer of some kind. She’s heavily involved with the private, part-time, dance school she attends as well as the dance troop (for want of a better word) at her high school. Both of them are bright, intelligent, well-balanced and well-adjusted young adults with minds of their own. In this age of teenage delinquency, wasted youth, and misplaced loyalty, they (for me) are the proof that all is not bad with the next generation.

ü Having a loving, caring family - both nuclear and extended. I have a mother, a father, and one sister. Despite my parents divorcing in my early teenage years, I’ve always felt close to both of them and they have guided and moulded me in the best way that they could. My sister and I have always gotten on well together. Although she lives away from the city, she would never be further than a phone call or visit should I truly ever need her to be. I have my two children. Going against the grain of expected feuding, my ex-wife and I have remained close friends. When she re-married, I was invited to the reception. I get on well with her husband, and have the strange honour of being known as ‘Dad’ to their three children. My mum is ‘Grandma’ to them, and regularly helps out at the primary school they attend. (This was something she started, as a voluntary teacher’s aide, when The Son and Daughter were there. She continued to go, at the request of the school, when they’d left.) I’ve baby-sat for the children and, in some ways, it seems that they feel just as at home at my place as they do in their own home.

ü Having a job that I’m happy with. As I said, I started with the local council in January 1990. I was initially employed as cover for someone who’d gone on maternity leave. I never expected to be there longer than the 6 months. Fortunately, for me, the early 90’s saw a relatively high turnover of staff and, before the time was up, someone else had left and I was permanently employed full-time. I started as a trainee COBOL programmer, working on their financial VME Mainframe systems. I spent 13 of the 15 years here within the Systems Development section, working my way up from trainee programmer to Principal Systems Analyst. A couple of years ago I made the decision to transfer to the Database Administrator Team. Initially, I did feel that I’d made the wrong decision as it took the best part of the first year to settle into the role I now work as. Different working practices, coupled with the change of role after so long, made me feel uneasy and, at times, out of place with the rest of the team. But I am happy here. I feel that I’m well-liked and respected enough to voice my opinions and worries with feeling out of my depth or ignored. I know my job and, I feel, I’m good at it.

ü Being financially secure. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in any way, shape, or form ‘well off’. I have money issues and worries like most of the people nowadays, but I don’t feel like I’m drowning because of them. From month to month, I keep my head above water without the mid-month panic of not being able to feed myself.

ü Having my health. Previous posts have reported on my childhood lifestyle so I’m not going to re-bore you with the details. Currently, I’m very happy and content with the state of my health. I exercise regularly, eat a (fairly) well-balanced diet, and enjoy the benefits of that. I don’t smoke, or drink to excess (well, not that regularly).

ü Friends. It’s good to know that I am able to call a few people ‘friend’. I’ve not got many, although I can’t decide whether that is a good thing or not, but it’s better than not having any.

All in all, a very good result, I’m sure you’d agree. But, to balance things up a little, what am I missing?

û Emotional Stability. Having just come out of an intense relationship, my emotions and feelings are rather raw at the moment. This, I’ve found, does happen to me when a serious relationship ends. Admittedly, there have only been three serious relationships in my life (maybe that should be a plus point: ‘Emotional Commitment’?), but each one has left me like a wreck. Maybe this is a good thing? It proves that, in my relationships, I don’t take things lightly or easily. Despite my faults and failings, I enter it open-eyed and without qualms or concerns. If not, then surely I’d move on from partner to partner without missing a beat or stopping to catch my breath (so to speak)?

û A companion. This links back to the previous point. In spite of my Scorpion personality tendencies, I crave companionship. I want the feeling you get when you know you’ve got someone who will unfailingly be there to listen to your troubles, to congratulate your successes, and commiserate your failures. Without wanting to turn this into one of my ‘Songs Of Importance’ posts, I’ll just refer you to the Depeche Mode song, "Somebody".

û A home. I have a house. I’ve lived there for a few years now, but the operative word (I feel) is that it is a ‘house’. I don’t feel like its ‘home’. I had a home when I was married. It was a warm, welcoming environment. In order to get another ‘home’, I guess I need a companion.

So where do I go from here? I’ve got a plan! It’s a plan that has been formulating in my mind for a fair while now. Hopefully, within a couple of years or so I’m going to be able to put this plan into action. A few people know about it, but I’m not going to detail it here now. I need to be nearer the actual time before being totally public about it. In the meantime, I’m going to concentrate on my successes in life, and deal on a day-by-day basis the failings.

I’m 39. It’s not old. All my grandparents lived well into their 80’s. My parents, at 70 and 65, are still going strong and don’t show any signs of slowing down. I intend to live out whatever time I have left to the best of my ability. Helping you to deal with life there are plenty of little phrases to help you on your way. A couple of them that I've got in my head at the moment are: (1) Like three-foot judges, little things are sent to try us; and (2) When Life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.

Here’s to the next 39 years. I think I’m ready for them!

Karaoke

2005-10-25T08:49:00.000Z

It's a confident person, usually with no professional training or quality of voice, who can stand in front of others and sing a song of their choosing. I'm not one of those people ... sadly. In the main, I like Karaoke nights. Despite the chance that some tone-deaf, but overflowing with confidence, singer will murder an innocent song and also burst the eardrums of everyone within hearing distance, I enjoy being there ... when I get the chance, that is.

In my life I have only ever sung twice at a Karaoke event, and they were both on the same night. It was a gym Christmas party, about 3 or 4 years ago. Even then, I didn't sing solo. The first time was a duet with a female friend, and we sang The Human League's "Don't You Want Me". The second was us two again with a rather drunk Best Friend, and we belted out Chumbawamba's "Tubthumping". Without wanting to appear boastful (well, not much) they sounded great and we were well received.

I've often thought of stepping up to the mike again, but have always found a perfectly valid, but totally inadequate, reason for not doing so. My favourite 'excuse' tends to be, "Ah, well, if they had Song A or a track by Artist B then of course I would". My main reasoning behind this reticence is that I want to be able to do the song justice, whilst at the same time keep my embarrassment level to a minimum. I certainly don't want to be classed as one of those aforementioned song-wrecking folk! I do have a list of tracks that, I feel, I would be willing to get up and do, they just tend to be by the less known or less popular artists. That's such a shame ... he said looking for a tongue-in-cheek smiley.

I used to know a bloke who would, regularly, gladly get up as often as he was allowed. When I asked him how he could, he said that it was the adrenaline rush he got from it that kept him going back. To his credit, he was a decent singer. Happily, my singing voice is pleasant enough. I can hold a tune and do have a strong sense of rhythm, so the only thing that's stopping me is this whole confidence issue. Certainly, I ain't any X-Factor or Pop Idol contender, but I'm certain that I wouldn't make a fool of myself. Only time will tell, I'm sure.

King Of The Mountain

2005-10-24T20:45:00.000Z

IT'S HERE!

After 12 years of waiting, Kate Bush is back! Her new single, "King of the Mountain" was released today. Backed with her version of Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing", this track, regarding the ongoing myth of Elvis's existence, paves the way for the album on 7th November. By all accounts, and judging by the reviews that have been given so far, this album is something well-worth hearing.

If you want to see the video to this song, go to Kate's new website.

Good luck to Kate with this. It is a truly welcome return!

His First Ship

2005-10-24T12:51:00.000Z

Well, here it is. The Maersk Doha. This is to be The Son's ship on his first sea-based section of his Merchant Navy training.

He joins the vessel in Busan (South Korea) by Wednesday 2nd November, and then journeys with it to Los Angeles (USA), Shanghai (China), Kwangyang (South Korea), before returning to Busan.

This phase is scheduled to last until April 2006, but whether this is to be his only ship during the next 6 months remains to be seen.

Expected, But Disappointed Nonetheless

2005-10-21T23:59:00.000Z

It was going to end in one of a few ways, I knew that. After last Friday's debacle, I had that 'gut-feeling' that it wasn't going to end happily. I spent the weekend mentally preparing myself for the outcome. What I wondered, though, was how it was going to be done? The possibilities, as far as I saw them, were:

(a) A phone call saying 'Goodbye'
(b) An email saying 'Goodbye'
(c) A message via MSN Messenger saying 'Goodbye'
(d) Nothing at all, with my suggested 'default' of no further contact being taken

I wish him well. I wish that he is able to move onwards and upwards in all the aspects of his life. I wish he'd had the backbone to take option (a), instead of option (b) ... although, I guess, it was better than taking option (d) which, to be truthful, was what I'd expected.

Golden

2005-10-21T00:38:00.000Z

Wow! I can't believe that I'm here. Welcome to my 50th post on this blog. After the distinct lack of postable material in the first couple of months, I never thought I'd reach 10, never mind 50.

Well, it's been a bit of a roller-coaster ride since Saturday 5th February 2005 when I created this haven for "... my thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears, whatever ...", and the ride isn't over yet!

Personally, I've quite enjoyed putting all this out there. Not knowing just who is reading it is also part of the thrill. To whoever is reading this, thank you.

Here's to the next 50 ...

Want Some Special Stuff?

2005-10-20T08:24:00.000Z

I'm so looking forward to this tonight. I've been a fan of The League of Gentlemen since I first saw 'Welcome To Royston Vasey' in January 1999. I've always found their close-to-the-knuckle black humour incredibly entertaining and tonight, for the first time, I'm going to get to see them live on stage.

Divine Divine!

2005-10-20T06:30:00.000Z

As I never got my act together about this yesterday, this is a belated birthday remembrance wish for one of my all-time favourite actor/singer's.

Born 19th October 1945, Harris Glen Milsted - better known as Divine - grew up to star in some of the best low-budget films (by film director John Waters), that broke many taboo's and went on to become cult viewing. He was, in some way, a precursor of the drag entertainer. Much under-rated, he was a bright star in the world of underground cinema, theatre, and music. Films like Pink Flamingos (1972) and Hairspray (1987) attacked the values of the American middle-class.

In 1979, taking advantage of the fame that the silver screen had given him, he ventured into the world of dance music. From that came such classics as "Hard Magic" "You Think You're A Man", and "Walk Like A Man".

Sadly, he passed away in his sleep owing to a combination of a heart attack and apnea on 7th March 1988.

Generous ... Or Just A Soft Touch?

2005-10-19T10:54:00.000Z

What am I? Generous or 'a soft touch'? Is there a difference? A couple of weeks ago, for the first time in a while, I was able to go out for a drink mid-week. As I've not seen a particular mate of mine for some time I mentioned it to him. He met me ... and 'allowed' me to buy the drinks for the evening! As they were only £1 each, I didn't really begrudge buying them, but I would have liked him to say, "No, I'll get this one". Did I object? Did I wait for him to get the next round? No, because if I had it would have been a very dry night!

What is it with me? Do I have the kind of face that sends out the signal that tells them not to worry, or do I just have the incredible bad habit of picking people for friends who are eternally down on their luck? I wouldn't mind if my generosity was repaid once in a while, but it never seems to be.

Songs Of Importance 2

2005-10-18T05:54:00.000Z

I didn't intend to put a second 'needy' type song on here so soon, but the way I'm feeling right now I can't do any other.

This one is by Yazoo and is a track from their 1983 'You And Me Both' album although, to be honest, any of the tracks on that album would do.

Softly Over

It's over, there's nothing more to say
Silent comes the night time, ends another summer's day
I can just remember, or is this the dream that never goes away?

Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?
Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?

Night time, surely it's a lie,
No-one ever told me, I just let the chance go by
Wishing there was time enough, you tell me there's no time but I can try.

Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?
Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?

Speak now, without the summer light
All the words I should have spoken, when you held me tight
Still I'll keep on calling, till the morning ends another lonely night.

Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?
Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?

Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?
Understand me, I'm calling -
Understand me now, can't you hear me call?

I'll be waiting for you hoping, that someday you'll hear me calling
But there's never any answer, just the echo of the call

Vince Clarke, 1983

Citizens' Day!

2005-10-17T08:28:00.000Z

For those of us living in Kingston upon Hull, Birmingham, Stoke-on-Trent, or Southwark, we get to celebrate the start of something new today. In order to try and promote a greater, and better, understanding about the people we live with in our communities, and also to try and build on the values that unite people, the government has asked these four cities to take part in this celebration of being citizens of this country. The hope is that, next year, it will be a nationwide event.

Here, in Kingston upon Hull, various events have been planned around the city. As the other three cities aren't having their celebrations until tomorrow, the nation could well be focused on us to see just what kind of response it gets. Next week, the success of the day will be shown nationally at an event in London.

If you'd like to read more about it, here's the link: Citizens' Day

Confidence I Was Born With

2005-10-17T00:38:00.000Z

As a child - most certainly until the age of 14 - I was described as 'happy-go-lucky'. I've been told that nothing fazed me. I would accept, quite happily, whatever Life and Fate threw at me with a devil-may-care attitude and a nonchalant smile. I do remember that time in my life as a 'make-up-and-do' time. Although I was the elder child in the family, my sister (two years younger than me) tended to get her own way. I was more than prepared to stand back and let her will be the dominant one when she wanted it to be. Happily, for me, my father recognised this and once said to my sister that, once day, I would turn round and deliver such a blow that she wouldn't know what hit her! (That premonition, however, has never come true.)

The turning-point, for me, where my outlook on life turned from one of optimism to cynical pessimism and wariness was when my parents got divorced. Seeing them in the state they'd got themselves into had a very sobering effect on me. No longer could I carry on through life with a jolly smile and a care-free attitude. Their separation was a bitter, acrimonious affair that tore deep strips off me and, I'm sure, my sister. With that as a history, I was determined that the end of my marriage (when I realised that it was inevitable) wasn't going to be the same for my children. There's the old adage that whatever your parents did, you never do the same ... well, I was determined that that would be true for me.

So, why is this in my thoughts now? Well, I went out for a drink tonight (that is, Sunday evening). The main thing that struck me, whilst in that voyeuristic mood I tend to get when drinking alone, was how much my "Look At Me!" gene has been suppressed over the past few years, compared to the others who didn't have the same inhibitions as me. Once upon a time, with a couple of drinks down my throat and a healthy beat and rhythm being played by the DJ, you wouldn't have been able to stop me 'grooving my thang', or 'strutting my funky stuff' regardless of how I would have looked to others. For me, I was there to have fun ... regardless of who saw me and what they thought I was doing. Now, however, I am more than prepared to tap my feet and 'jig' along whilst sitting down ... whilst all the time wishing I was up there on the dance floor.

This attitude to my life worries me, it really does. As I approach that 'life begins' age (and, rest assured, there'll be more of that in the future) I don't want to slow down. I certainly don't feel my numerical age. I don't want to be seen acting my numerical age! Childish? Yes, I feel it is so. Inevitable? I absolutely hope not! My father, at the age of 70 (as he is now), certainly doesn't look like he is. At times, yes, he acts like it, but physically he doesn't look it. Mentally, I want what he's got physically now. I want to be a 'young man' in an older man's body. I want people to say, "I'd never have put you at that age!". I want back the confidence I was born with!

Aerial

2005-10-16T00:27:00.000Z

I've been following, with interest, news about Kate Bush and the imminent release of her new album and single. The latest, official, news (courtesy of Kath Bush News & Information) is this:

Kate's new album AERIAL will be released on November 7th. Kate's new single KING OF THE MOUNTAIN is out on October 24th. Both the single and album are produced by Kate. Kate says: "I'm so pleased with everyone's work on this record. There are some lovely performances and I hope you will all feel it's been worth the wait. Bertie keeps me very busy, he is so much fun".

Known contributors to the new album include Mick Karn (he says he played bass on 'How To Be Invisible'), drummer Stuart Elliott and jazz percussionist Peter Erskine. The late Michael Kamen wrote the string arrangements for two tracks which will appear on the new album - she recorded what she has described as "some beautiful orchestral movements" with him and the London Metropolitan Orchestra at Abbey Road in October 2003. Chris Hall has played accordion on one track. Classical musicians Emma Murphy and Susanna Pell have also recorded for the album. Del Palmer is said to be engineering.

Kate had her new recording studio serviced and upgraded and started recording in late 1999. On May 23rd 2002 Kate received the Ivor Novello award for Outstanding Contribution To British Music By A Songwriter. Kate appeared live for the first time in almost 15 years singing Comfortably Numb as David Gilmour's special guest at his Royal Festival Hall concert on January 18th 2002. Kate won the Best Classic Songwriter award at the 12th Annual Q Magazine awards on 29th October 2001.

In an interview in December 2001 a happy Kate talked about progress on the new album and her happiness with her son Bertie. After receiving a standing ovation at the Q Awards she said: "This is just great, I am making an album but it is just taking a little longer than I thought and I have been having a great time with my son." We warmly congratulate Kate on all the recent awards and recognition from her industry peers! EMI still plan to release remastered and repackaged CDs of the remainder of Kate's album catalogue as with 1997's Hounds Of Love reissue. The CDs will have new packaging and photos and extra tracks. The initial release schedule has "slipped", but EMI are hoping that the reissues will pave the way for the release of Kate's eighth studio album.

Miffed!

2005-10-15T13:27:00.000Z

Today should have been a happy day. Instead of reporting this, I should have been reporting the success of the day. Weeks ago I had it all planned. I'd arranged the transport, the company, the time away from the usual humdrum of life. However, I've been stymied by the one thing that I couldn't control ... the information that I'd based today on! I hadn't taken into account that, sometimes, official sources get it wrong.

Today, I should have been travelling down to Skegness. Tonight, I should have been dancing myself dizzy and singing myself hoarse to the one woman who has entranced, captivated, and thrilled me for 24 years. I should have been at a Toyah concert as, tonight, she is performing at the Butlins site there. As part of one of their "80's Madness" weekends she is there to prove that, unlike some of the other pop stars of yester-year appearing as well, she never went away; she has fought the beast that is obscurity and won! Something she does everytime she appears on stage.

The official source in question is Toyah's own website. On the information for the events - and there are a few of them over the next half year or so - it says that, in order to see Toyah, you have to purchase a holiday there or a Day Visitor Pass. That seemed fair enough. I wasn't going to be able to stay for the full weekend, but just being able to go see that part of it that was of a particular interest to me would be great. A Day Pass was the ideal solution.

According to the Bultins website, you don't need to pre-book these day passes, as you can just turn up on the day and buy one then. However, me being me, I don't like to travel that far without knowing that entry wouldn't be a problem. So, I rang them. I said that I wanted to come on this particular Saturday and needed to buy 3 day passes. Confused a little, she said that the camp was closed that weekend because of a private event. I replied that, yes, that was why I wanted to come. I explained that I'd been told that a Day Pass would be sufficient, and that I wanted to make sure I had them before travelling down. She then dropped the bombshell ... Day Passes weren't available for these weekends. You had to buy a holiday or you don't get in! Stunned? Yes, I was. I'd last seen Toyah in Blackpool at Easter and had been looking forward to seeing her again. To be told that, no, you wouldn't be seeing her was a bit of a stomach blow.

She asked where I'd got the information about the day passes from, and I told her about the details on Toyah's site. She said that that was wrong. I checked back on the Bultins site, but found that the entire weekend was fully booked. Even if I'd've been able to go for the weekend, I wasn't now.

So I'm here. Rather down, and slightly miffed about it. I hope that all who see Toyah tonight have a wonderful time. She is a true entertainer, well worth the time and effort travelling to see her perform and to hear her sing.

Picture Gallery 4

2005-10-14T08:31:00.000Z

Christmas Cancelled Then!

Today, I got my first Christmas joke of the year! (Thanks, Cherry). It made me chuckle, so I thought I'd share it here.

Dream Sequence

2005-10-11T10:46:00.000Z

I had a dream on Saturday night. There’s nothing unusual about that as I tend to dream a fair deal. I’m not, however, usually able to remember them. Even now, after a couple of days, I can still remember it in great detail. I don’t know the significance of it (did it mean anything at all?), but it has left an impact on me. If it means anything, it was in full colour.

The setting of the dream was the family home and area that I spent the majority of my childhood in. It was (and still is) a big 3-bedroomed place in a once-fashionable and well-to-do area in the west of the city. All my family were there – Mum, Dad, and sister, and also the Jack Russell Terrier (Scamp) I had as a child. Everything was as it was when I lived there. The decorations, the furniture, the feel of the place, were all the same and it was very comforting. The difference was that my family and I were as we are now. The feelings of resentment and bitterness between my mum and dad (as they’d divorced towards the end of the 1970’s) were as palpable as it is now, and were back then. I got the feeling that my sister would have rather been somewhere else. I, as the owner of the dream, looked on all of this with a mixture of emotions. At first, I couldn’t believe I was back there. Despite the stress and trauma of it all, as a child I was happy there. My best feeling, however, was seeing Scamp again. In reality, he had died during the time I had lived there. In the dream he was alive, but old and overweight. Not too old as to be near Death’s door and infirm, but as he was towards the end of his life. The poor thing couldn’t remember me properly, but him being there was the best part of the dream. It has made me realised just how much I still do miss him.

Family life seemed to be going on as normal, and I, for some reason, had to go out. Walking down the street it was like seeing everything as it was as a child, but with adult’s eyes. I got to experience the feeling that you wish for at times … to be young again, but knowing what you know now. That need to live with 20/20 hindsight.

At the local Baptist church a couple of hundred yards down the street there was something going on. This part of the dream is the hazy bit. The time frame at this point seemed to have rolled forward as I vaguely remember the site being as it is now, not as it was. Also, the recent road layout changes put in a couple of years back were there but, essentially, it was still me, as an adult, seeing the world through my childhood eyes. I remember I stood outside the place for a while, looking at the scene, not really comprehending what was going on. It felt strange looking at the place, although even now (in reality) it does. I went to that church for 22 years (from the ages of 7 until 29), so a lot of my life is tied up in the history of that place. I’ve been back a few times in recent years, but have only felt comfortable in the memories I have for it; never for the actuality of being there now.

As I turned to walk back home, my mobile phone rang! (Another inconsistency between the dream and the reality of the time, I know.) Answering it, I realised it was a friend of mine who has been asking me to order him some DVD’s for a few days now. He was calling to check up to see whether I’d found and ordered them yet! I remember feeling so pissed off that he’d rang. As I started to explain, all of a sudden, he starts shouting and yelling at someone wherever he was, telling him to come back. I hear him start giving chase, and then I’m listening to him acting like a yob. From what I’m hearing, it seems that this bloke has been making death threats towards my mate’s dad! He chases the bloke into some flats and then they start to fight. The phone cuts off. Instead of being concerned for my friend’s safety, the only thing I think is, “Fool”.

I continue walking back home. Once inside the house I walk into the front room and see Scamp down behind one of the chairs on his own. I go over to him, reach down and pick him up. He seems scared but, at the same time, comforted. I hold him and start to stroke and pet him.

I then woke up.

Scamp ... RIP

Overheard at a US Security Council Meeting

2005-10-07T20:36:00.000Z

Donald Rumsfeld: "Did you hear that three Brazilian soldiers were killed in Iraq today?"

George W Bush: "Wow, how many are there in a Brazilian?"

It'd Be A Shame Not To Go!

2005-10-06T11:09:00.000Z

2005 HULL REAL ALE & CIDER FESTIVAL

OCTOBER 6-8 (Thursday-Saturday): 2005 HULL REAL ALE & CIDER FESTIVAL IN THE MORTIMER SUITE, HULL CITY HALL, KINGSTON UPON HULL. Less than 10 minutes from Bus & Rail Stations. 68 real ales (30 hand pumps) & 25 ciders and perries. Open: 12-11pm every day. Entry (via Paragon St) free at all times to card-carrying CAMRA members, non-members after 6pm on Thursday & Friday £2 & £3 respectively. Hot & cold food, snacks & soft drinks. Pub & Brewery related tombola. Live evening entertainment Thursday & Friday. No smoking allowed.

I'll see you there!

Intriguing Web-Sites 2

2005-10-05T13:23:00.000Z

"Your Own Personal Jesus ..."

Simply says: "Repenting Made Easy".

Go on, talk to God ...

igod

(Thanks to Dave for this link.)

Gym Update 1

2005-10-04T13:09:00.000Z

Time for the first update on my project, I think.

It's been a mixed bag of gym time but, overall, I'm pleased with the progress I've made. Looking at the figures all the improvements seem small, but since I started taking notes I've lost just under a stone in weight, added 80Kg (overall) to the weights I lift, and have lost about an inch off my waist.

Here are the latest details ...

Exercise Details (Kg)
Gym Weight...........106
Squat................40
Bench Press..........40
Military Press.......20
Lateral Pulldown.....57.5
Seated Row...........60
Upright Row..........60
Triceps Pushdown.....60
Leg Extension........57.5
Bicep Curl...........35
Leg Curl.............60

Body Fat Analysis
Weight...............16st 11.8lb
BMI..................29.5
BMR..................9364 kJ/2238 kcal
Impedance............365 Ω
Fat %................20.5
Fat Mass.............3st 6.4lb
FFM..................13st 5.4b
TBW..................9st 11.2lb

What Is A Bastard ... ?

2005-10-03T23:30:00.000Z

Quite often we ask ourselves hard to answer questions, like, “What is a bastard?”

And we wax philosophic with metaphysical postulations, incomplete aphorisms, and inconsistent sophisms that make one more and more sure that the only true thing is that a picture is worth a thousand words.

In this photo, the guy on the right is a member of a bomb squad in the middle of a deactivation.

The guy behind him, well, he's a bastard.

(Thanks to Rich for this.)

A Blind Man Goes Into A Bar ...

2005-09-29T16:07:00.000Z

Joke time again, and it's another non-PC one.

For the record, I don't subscribe at all to the theory that the colour of your hair makes an ounce of difference to your IQ ... if you are dumb, it doesn't matter whether you hair is blond(e), black, brown, red, or green!

Here it is ...

A blind man goes into a bar. He finds his way to a bar stool and orders a drink. After sitting there for a while, he yells to the bartender in a loud voice, "Hey bartender, do you wanna hear a dumb blonde joke?"

The bar immediately falls deathly quiet. In a deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says, "Before you tell that joke, sir, I think it is only fair that, given that you are blind, you should know five things:

One. The bartender is a blonde woman.

Two. The bouncer at the door is a blonde woman.

Three. The woman sitting next to me is blonde and is a martial arts expert.

Four. The lady to your right is a blonde and is a professional wrestler.

Five. I'm a 6-foot, 200 pound blonde woman with a Ph.D., a black belt in karate, and a very bad attitude.

Now, think about it seriously, mister. Do you still want to tell that joke?"

The blind man thinks for a second, shakes his head and says, "Nah. Not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times."

Drink And The Single Man

2005-09-24T01:02:00.000Z

Is it ok for you to go out on your own and not be expected to just frequent the local bars and quiet public houses?

It's a dilemma that has troubled me ever since I was 'newly single' following the break down of my marriage. Ten years later, it's still a question that hangs over me like the Sword of Damocles. I've lost count of the number of times that I've been given questioning, and even pitying, looks if I've been seen at a bar or in a pub on my own enjoying my own company. For me there is no sadness in it. The thought of spending a night on the razz by myself doesn't hold any worries for me. The isolationist in me revels in the ability to wander from place to place at my own pace without the need to arrive at a majority verdict about the next venue. The voyeur in me finds release in the ability to watch all that is happening around me without the need to verbally comment on the events that unfold around me. (As I wrote this, for example, I was watching the dynamics of a group as they check and test the boundaries of the various members of the group. A couple of them are obviously in a relationship, but the rest - 6-8 of them – are, or don't appear to be, 'attached'.)

On my own, I don't need to be concerned that the members of my party are feeling left out or ignored. When I've had enough fun for one evening I can go home without needing to make sure that all involved are happy and apprised of my situation. I have found that, when others are not there, I am my own best friend and perfect companion!

On the other side of this double-edged sword, of course, I'm open to derision and ridicule and threatened with the label of 'Billy No Mates'. This I can live with. The people who hand out the label bear no relevance to my life; destined to never see them again I smile politely and accept that I'm to be the butt of their joke for the few minutes I'll be in their company. Like yesterday's news, though, I'll be forgotten about once the drunken haze has cleared.

As for me, I'll move on and mentally make note of their immaturity and find comfort that I've been significant enough to appear in their world, even if it was for such a short time.

Mobile Madness II

2005-09-22T13:28:00.000Z

Well, it looks like I'm back here again. This time, however, I hope that sanity will take the reins and the mobile company will listen to what I'm saying!

The mobile company rang me yesterday. It was I hasten to add - I know because I made sure - the legitimate one; not some 'officially recognised' distributor. The sales person went through the whole speil of explaining that they recognise my devotion to their network, that they didn't want to lose me as a customer, and that "... as a heavy user of the system ..." (i.e. my bills are significant enough) I'm entitled to a little more courtesy and preferential treatment than the rest of us pond-life swimming about in the mobile pool (ok, my words, not theirs). They were wanting to upgrade the handset and adjust my tariff to more suit my mobile lifestyle. I explained the previous goings on, and they assured me that no change of number would occur.

So, I am now going to be the proud owner of a Nokia 6020 from tomorrow. I'll be getting 600 any network/any time minutes a month, 100 free text messages, free voicemail, and a dedicated customer service team number so that I don't have to queue. I'm also going to be getting a regular 10% reduction on the monthly charge for all of this so, as long as I don't use more than the package allows, it's going to be regular unchanging bills from now on. It all sounds lovely (*insert 'trying to look suitably impressed' face smiley here*).

Of course, the bun fight for my old handset will begin once word gets out! What am I bid for this slightly used, but well maintained, model? Shall we start the bidding at ...

Songs of Importance 1

2005-09-18T22:45:00.000Z

I'm a musical person. I can't compose or, sadly (now) play an instrument, but I can hold a tune, have a acceptable voice and range, and can feel the beat. Since I was introduced (at a late development stage now-a-days) to the 'chart single' when I was 11, music has always been an important part of my life. Rather than save my pocket money I'd, to my mother's annoyance, often head off to the local record shops and see what I could get. It's a trait that, for good or for bad, I still have today. Music, I find, lifts me when I'm down, makes a chore seem less of a hassle, and helps me concentrate when needed. So, I've decided to put on here a few of the songs that hit me square in the chest and make me stop dead in my tracks because I feel they are that powerful. I don't want to comment about them, or say what I feel is the statement being made by them. I'd rather let the songs speak from themselves.

This one is by Depeche Mode and is a track on their 1987 'Music For The Masses' album.

To Have And To Hold

I need to be cleansed
It's time to make amends
For all of the fun
The damage is done
And I feel diseased
I'm down on my knees
And I need forgiveness
Someone to bear witness
To the goodness within
Beneath the sin
Although I may flirt
With all kinds of dirt
To the point of disease
Now I want release
From all this decay
Take it away
And somewhere
There's someone who cares
With a heart of gold
To have and to hold

Martin L Gore, 1987

Life Saver!

2005-09-17T17:43:00.000Z

The fatal ending to a night on the razz, for me, usually involved some kind of greasy-spoon burger van, or a pizzeria, where I'd walk away with half a hundredweight of lard wrapped in a bun. The following morning I'd look at the remains in the kitchen and wonder how on Earth I managed to keep it down. Last night, however, I found my life saver ... and it came in the form of a Subway store.

Locally, we've just recently been targetted by these stores, and now have got 5 spread across the city. I thought they opted to close around 10pm, but the one on Whitefriargate is open until 3am over the weekend! Fantasic! Night on the lash, and a healthy, tasty sandwich to eat on the walk home.

I know where I'll be heading now.

The Story of O

2005-09-15T17:33:00.000Z

The Story of O is an erotic novel concerning a young, beautiful Parisian fashion photographer, called O, and her willing journey into bondage and submission at the hands of her lover, Rene. She wilfully debases herself for Rene and the members of a secret society where the pleasures of sadomasochism are reveared. O is taken by Rene to a chateau 'Roissy' on the edge of Paris where,over a two-week period, she is systematically turned into a slave through sexual assaults, regular whippings, and long hours in solitude. All the women have to learn how to "obey" their masters in whatever they order them to do, whether it be for their masters alone or for other members of the club. After returning to Paris, O is 'given' to Sir Stephen, the English half-brother of Rene, who has her whipped, branded and pierced. Finally, in one of two alternative endings, O chooses death and her demise is granted.

But why does she do this? At the start of the novel, O could be thought to be a masochist. This, however, is not the case. It's more a story about a woman deeply in love with her man, than a story about masochism. It shows how much a woman - or anyone, if taken in a broader sense - would sacrifice for it, and the length a woman will go to keep her lover happy. Although she gets no pleasure from the physical, emotional, and psychological tortures she endures, her pleasure is got from the aftermath of those things: the lashes and cuts to her skin, the debasement and subjection of her body, and the vicious cruelty that she willingly chooses to endure makes O "happy" that she is doing all this to please her lover.

This novel is not for everyone. A lot will be put off by the never-ending violence; a few by the supposed gratification of the acts. It has been described as "erotic", but it's not in the conventional sense of the word. The Story of O is widely acknowledged to be one of the most famous erotic novels of all time. Graham Greene described it as 'A rare thing, a pornographic book well written and without a trace of obscenity.' Harold Pinter called it 'A remarkable piece of work', while Brian Aldiss proclaimed 'I do believe that Pauline Réage has confounded all her critics and made pornography (if that is what it is) an art.'

If you get chance to read it, you should.

Note about the author: Pauline Réage was a pseudonym for Anne Declos, who also wrote under the name of Dominique Aury. As Dominique Aury she was an accomplished editor and translator. The Story of O was written during her mid-forties as both a love letter to her lover Jean Paulhan, an affair that spanned three decades, and as a reaction to a dare/claim of his that no woman can write a fine erotic novel. Originally published in 1954, The Story of O caused a lot of controversy and was banned in Britain for several years. Fifty years later, it has been translated into over twenty languages and has been the basis of two feature films as well as numerous spin-offs. Anne Declos was born in France in 1907 and died in April 1998, four years after having publicly admitted to being the authoress of the notorious novel.

Picture Gallery 3

2005-09-13T13:55:00.000Z

Dado Rail

The idea of decorating my home has raised its head again. Maybe I should consider one of these.

Mobile Madness!

2005-09-12T22:40:00.000Z

I really like my mobile phone. I use it a lot. In my younger days it was my filofax. Now that has been replaced by my mobile. I use it for a lot of things other than just telecommunications. I've been with the same company (with the same number) ever since I got my first one (ah, the cute little Nokia nk402) in 1999 (I think it was). I've upgraded the handset a few times over the years and, on a couple of occasions re-negotiated my contract with the company.

A week last Friday I got a cold-call from someone claiming to be from my mobile company. They were worried that I'd be considering moving to another provider so they were wanting to see if there was anything they could do to keep me with them. (I hadn't considered moving, but I thought I'd hear them out anyway.) They thought my existing handset (a Nokia 6610i) was a little older than it should be so they said they could upgrade me (free of charge) to a lot more recent handset, and also see about adjust the tariffs of my contract to make it cheaper (per month) for me. I said I was still interested, so they'd ring me back with more details.

A little while later I got a call from a representative company saying that they'd been contacted by my mobile company about the planned changes. I was just on the verge of leaving for a weekend away with my family, but I keep listening. This new representative explained the 'upgrade', but said that I would have to get a new number, but that I could keep my existing one as a 'Pay-As-You-Go' phone. I wasn't happy with that, but when I said so I was given the impression that I could change it later. So it was all agreed. The handset would be sent out over the weekend and they'd contact the mobile company about the changes.

The weekend came and went (and very enjoyable it was too), and I got back expecting to find a card in the letterbox saying that a courier had tried to deliver the phone. There wasn't one. So, I waited. Come Thursday last week I decided that I'm phone the representative company to see what was happening. When I tried ringing the number I'd been given it just disconnected every time i dialed it. A little suspicious,I thought.

I rang my mobile company and explained the situation. After numerous questions and over 30 minutes of being put on and off 'hold', they said that they'd need to investigate this further as there seemed to be discrepancies between what my account was saying and what the state of the newly authorised SIM card was showing them. They'd get back to me. Erm, ok.

On Friday I got a call saying that the mobile company had had to involve their Fraud Department as they weren't convinced that the system access that had taken place was valid! However, on Saturday I got another call saying that it had all been sorted and that it was, indeed, valid. They gave me the number of the representative company and asked me to call them on Monday.

Today, I called the representative company. The handset, eventually, arrived in the middle of the morning ... a nice Nokia 6230i. It has a 1.3mega-pixel camera and an mp3 player included. Progress! I rang to see about changing the account details to have my existing number on my new handset, only to be told that, no, that wasn't allowed! This wasn't, in fact, an upgrade. It was a NEW CONTRACT! Not what I wanted at all.

So, it's going back. I've cancelled this new contract and will be posting the handset and all its associated paraphanalia back in morning. Evidently, the only (best?) way to upgrade without changing my number is to speak with my mobile company direct! Why didn't they say that when they made the original call? Frustration and a bit of belief-begging is in residence at the moment.

At least I've still got my 6610i, all the details held therein, and a certain understanding that I'm not going to use representative companies any more.

Elvis Has Left The Building!

2005-09-11T23:36:00.000Z

Well, the end of a chapter for me and the start of a new one for The Son. He's gone. Off to college to forge his own career in this big, bad world. His worldy goods have been divided up and lots cast for his bedroom. Poor man, hardly is his bed cold and it's taken from him!

I wish him all the best in all he does, and will support him to the end of wherever it takes him. He's my baby boy.

Intriguing Web-Sites 1

2005-09-11T09:49:00.000Z

The description for this site is ... "The Biggest, Longest, Sexiest, Tallest, Smallest, Shortest, Highest, Lowest, Fastest, Slowest, Rarest, Oldest, Youngest, Happiest, First, Last, Maximum, Minimum, Largest, Oddest..."

Enough said. Go look.

World Sex Records

Tales From The Bar

2005-09-10T23:51:00.000Z

I went out for a few drinks last night, and spent the evening wandering around the town re-visiting some of the watering-holes I used to frequent. Admittedly, most of the time I was on my lonesome, but I like that. If spotted alone a few white lies are usually enough to stop the questions. One drink and a chat with them later and I'm making my excuses and leaving them to their own devices.

My Lady In Red
I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed going in the Revolution bar here. I first went in shortly after it opened and was impressed with the style, decor, and atmosphere of the place. On top of that it's a Vodka bar so there is always the option of having flavoured vodka shots as well as cocktails. Last night, however, I was re-acquainted with an old favourite ... Scarlet Miss Charlotte. Made of Stolichnaya Razberi with raspberries, Teichenné Rasberry, fresh lime and a dash of soda this drink is truely wonderful. Me and her spent a very enjoyable few minutes alone together on the Vodka Terrace at the back of the bar whilst a bloke, who had obviously overdone it, gently snoozed in one of the chairs.

Binge Drinker!
Binge drinking has been described as: "Drinking to intoxication. Drinking five or more drinks at a time is considered binge drinking". I've never considered myself a binge drinker but I thought about it and realised that, according to the definition, I am! I do tend to limit my alcohol intake to a weekend and, when I do go out it's very rarely less than the recommended limits. I thought about the last time I'd gone out and wrote down what I'd drunk in one night:

å 2 pints of bitter
å 3 cans of Red Bull
å The equivalent of 13 single vodkas
å 1 WKD Blue
å 3 cans of Shark
å 1 bottle of Stella

Quite an embarrassing, but impressive, list.

Shock, Horror ... scope!
Towards the end of the night I ended up in a club. Now clubs are, generally, places I get bored with fairly quickly. After spending the evening, more often than not, in places where conversation is possible and with company that adds more to the whole experience than the venues you're in, I find that by the time 'time' has been rung and the dregs of the last orders drunk I'm ready to head homewards.
Occasionally, however, I will agree to spending some time in a club ... on the selfish understanding that I'm going to want to go long before anyone else will.

So, I was in the club with a drink in my hand when I spotted some free magazines on a table at the side of the main room. Picking one up, I found a seat and spent a few minutes flicking through it. I stopped in amazement when I read the horoscope for this week for all us Scorpion (that's me) and Sagittarian people. Without going into all the ins and outs, and ups and downs, I've been going through a bit of a rough patch. Also, the one for Sagittarians was rather close to the mark as well (the person on the other side of all of this is a Sagittarian). These predictions were so accurate that I actually burst out laughing. A few people around me looked at me as if I was insane. I had to tear it out to keep. It quite made my night.

Shaken and Stirred

2005-09-08T03:03:00.000Z

Have you ever been woken up with such a mental force that it leaves you wondering what on Earth happened, as well as leaving your body feeling like it’s been shaken like a rag doll in a big dog’s mouth? Well, tonight, I was.

I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a routine of an evening. I’ve been finding that I get bored and restless fairly quickly if I sit and watch television alone just lately. I can’t fully focus on what’s on the screen, can’t really take in the twists and turns of plots (be it some involved drama or Spongebob Squarepants), and have the attention span of a gnat. The kitchen seems to constantly call and I wander in and out of there checking and re-checking the cupboards for snacks that invariably aren’t there and bits of food that I don’t really need. My solution is to wind down upstairs in my bedroom away from the white noise of the television and the beckoning of the fridge. A little bit of music, a surf around the net, an occasional chat to friends online all help to divert my wayward mind. By making sure I’ve got a glass of something to drink up there with me there’s no need (I find) for the endless sojourns to the kitchen and I’m (to quote a phrase) a happy little bunny.

Anyway, this evening was no different. I’d been out to the gym and had got back around my, now, usual time of 9:00pm. Putting my gym gear in the washing machine I took a glass of water upstairs with me and settled myself at the PC. I spent, probably, a couple of hours or so there numbing my mind whilst doing nothing of any great importance. I could have quite happily gone to bed by 10:00pm, but was waiting for the washing to be done so I could remove it from the machine and lay it out to dry. The relaxation must have been good because, glancing at the clock, I realised it was approaching 11:00pm. I went downstairs, removed the clothes from the washer, made myself a nice hot cup of Horlicks and retired to my bed to read for a while.

I didn’t read for long as the milky drink had done its job and sleep was on its way. I reckon I settled down around 11:30pm and turned off the light.

WHAM! Huh?!

My mind was reeling like I’d been injected with a hefty dose of caffeine and my body was buzzing like I’d spent the night drinking Red Bull. I was wide awake and feeling totally confused. I checked the clock and I’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. Silently cursing, I tried to settle down again. Half an hour later I was still tossing and turning and getting more frustrated with each passing minute. The reeling and buzzing feeling was still there so I went back to the PC.

And that’s where I am now. I’ve wandered around the web for a while and looked for people to chat with. But it’s approaching 3:00am and all the sensible people are in bed pushing out the z’s. I wish I was.

Picture Gallery 2

2005-09-05T09:15:00.000Z

Never Ever Give Up

I feel in need of a bit of a motivational and uplifting posting today, so I thought I'd post this.

A few times I've felt like I was the stork. Right now, though, I feel like I'm the frog.

A Most Welcome Return

2005-09-02T07:15:00.000Z

I make no bones about the fact that Depeche Mode dot com is writing my entry for today. After a lengthy absence from the world music arena, it's fantastic to know that they are back!

This October, Depeche Mode release their first album since 2001's two million-selling Exciter. "I really felt, before we started this album, that there was unfinished business," says Dave Gahan of their 11th studio album, Playing The Angel. And so it is that the world's foremost subversive electronic pop group have reconvened to, as the singer puts it, "make the best record we can." They just can't shake the disease.

Playing The Angel is an astonishingly fresh, exuberant release from the band who have, over 25 years, sold upwards of 50 million records worldwide and amassed a staggering 38 hit singles in the UK and no fewer than 13 Top 10 albums. And yet they sound like a new group, not one halfway through their third decade together. "Precious", the first single, is quintessential Mode, all cyber pulse and glorious chorus. "The Sinner In Me" perfectly balances the organic and synthetic, and climaxes, as do most of the tracks, with staccato blasts of noise and FX. On "Suffer Well" Dave's voice is more powerful than ever. "Macrovision", sung by Martin Gore, is hi-tech pop with an enormous hook. "John The Revelator" is one of many potential hit singles. "I Want It All" is one of the slower tracks with its minor-key menace, like trip hop from hell. "A Pain That I'm Used To" kicks off what would have been Side 2 in fine, furious style with its savage bursts of guitar.

The title for the album was taken, according to Fletch, from the lyric of a track called "The Darkest Star". The LP was recorded in Santa Barbara, New York and London. Recording began in January 2005 in California, with producer Ben Hillier at the helm providing a sense of challenge. "You have to work hard at reinventing yourself," admits Dave, "so you have to choose new people who push you." Playing The Angel is faster-paced than the last two Mode albums, heightening the sense of urgency and vibrancy. Ben's fondness for analogue synths over digital ones helped shape the sound.

It is also the first Depeche album to feature Dave Gahan credits - three of the tracks ("I Want It All", "Suffer Well" and "Nothing's Impossible") were written by the singer, who was encouraged by the reaction to his debut solo album Paper Monsters (2003). Martin was responsible for the remaining nine tracks. As usual, he was unflinching in his depiction of the dark side of the human condition. In fact, he jokes, the back cover of the LP sleeve may well feature the subtitle: Pain And Suffering In Various Tempos. "Dave said I've made a 25-year career out of one subject. I disagree: it's two!"

When asked what the broad, overarching themes of this record are, Martin smiles: "Anything that appeals to really dysfunctional people." It would be wrong, however, to dismiss Depeche Mode as harvesters of sorrow. "I never see our music as over-dark. There's always an element of hope. And I hope that comes over in the music."

A sense of optimism, of renewed vigour, of pleasure at what they've achieved, can be discerned from Playing The Angel. It's also obvious from the sheer delight Dave, Martin and Andy feel at being back with Depeche Mode, on the eve of the release of a brilliant album and a mammoth, sell-out world tour that confirms the enormity of their global audience.

Dave counts his blessings that he's still actually here to do this. "That we've achieved so much in 25 years, and survived so much... Of all the bands, this is the one I'd have put money on not still being around!" he laughs. "I see ourselves alongside U2 and R.E.M. more than any of the bands we came up with, although really we don't fit in and we never have, and I've come to embrace that - there's no one like Depeche Mode. I might have lost some of my drive in the mid-'90s, but now I've got it back. It's better being in Depeche Mode now than it has been for 15 years."

---===--- ... ---===--- ... ---===---

'Precious' is the addictive first single from Depeche Mode's eagerly anticipated eleventh studio album 'Playing The Angel'. The single is released October 3rd on Mute and the album follows on October 17th. Written by Martin Gore and produced by Ben Hillier (of Doves and Blur fame) the new single is quintessential Depeche Mode with a kinetic hook, hypnotic vocals and a glorious chorus. Depeche Mode are Dave Gahan, Andy 'Fletch' Fletcher and Martin Gore. "Ben Hillier has brought a whole new dynamic to the group which is quite inspiring." says Dave Gahan. "It's better being in Depeche Mode now than it has been for 15 years."

A Little Piece of History

2005-08-31T06:59:00.000Z

A little while ago, while searching at the back of the wardrobe (looking for Narnia, I think), I found these old Toyah badges of mine. Thinking about it, they all must be at least 20 years old. They are ones that I collected during my early-to-mid teen years. I remember scouring all the record shops in the area, as well as any other places I thought might stock them, in a hope of finding a badge I hadn't got. It's a shame these are the only ones remaining. I'm not too sure what happened to the others.

Although, I'm sure, that some people will be able to boast to having more, I'm pleased I've still got the Intergalactic Ranchhouse ones (the 2 white and 1 purple in the centre). These were given to members of her fan-club during the early 1980's. The other one I'm pleased I've still got is the yellow-backed one at the top-centre. It's Toyah with her boob out. I remember trying to sneak that one past my mum without her noticing. I remember feeling so rebellious (yes, I know, a bit of a sheltered upbringing) wearing that one on my jacket. Ah, happy days!

Three ...

2005-08-30T09:01:00.000Z

Ages of Man
Amigos
Bears (with Goldilocks)
Billy Goats Gruff
Blind Mice
Bob Note
Branches of US Government
Cheers
Coins in a Fountain
Cornered Hat
Days Grace
Degrees
Dimensions
French Hens
G
Is a Magic Number
Kingdoms
Kings
Laws of Motion
Laws of Robotics
Little Pigs
Little Words
Men and a Baby
Men in a Boat
Men in a Tub
Mile Island
Musketeers
Peaks Walk
penny Bit
Point Turn
R's
Sisters
some
Stooges
Strikes
Tenors
Times a Lady
Toed Sloth
Wheelers
Wise Men of Gotham
Wishes

Years

Postscript

2005-08-30T08:58:00.000Z

Just for the record, 'Metaphorical' works as well today as it did back in March/April.

King of Beers

2005-08-29T19:48:00.000Z

Before you say anything, I know this completely flies in the face of my previous post but I've been meaning to make mention of this for a little while now. To me, this is the absolute King of Beers!

Despite points of view to the contrary I don't drink a great deal. Well, I don't drink frequently. I'm more than happy to go for a pint or two one night at the weekend, rather than spent hours in a one pub or another the majority of the nights each week. One thing I find difficult to do, though, is drink at home. Drinking at home alone is a definite no-no. Why? I don't really know. I guess it's the social animal in me.

I found this beer while doing a weekly shop in my local supermarket. I like ales. Lager is too gassy for me, and I'm not old enough to drink mild or stout just yet. The wide variety of available ones is enough to ensure that there is one to suit even the most ardent lager drinker's taste.

As the blurb says on the brewer's site ...

This dark golden coloured ale hugs the palate with great intensity. Its malty aroma is complemented by the gentle nose of Banana. Its flavour unfolds with a sensual sparkle and a smart crispness, which balances its aroma perfectly. Tropically fruity; its ripe banana flavour, emphasised by a hint of bitterness, comes from the addition of real fair trade bananas and finishes with an emphatic, steely dryness.

I totally agree! Try it, you might like it.

In Just Seven Days, I Can Make You A Man!

2005-08-28T22:30:00.000Z

I’ve gone and got myself a new project. It’s one that should take a lot of time and effort, and help me to concentrate my mind and focus my scattered thoughts. This project is … ME!

Throughout my childhood and formative years I was always a portly child. I was the one never to shy away from a 2nd helping if offered (sometimes, even if it wasn’t). I was the child who snacked between snacks; why take one biscuit when half a dozen will do?! If it was a case of this option or that one the answer was invariably, ‘Yes, please’. And it showed, although whilst at my primary school it never really bothered me. Physical Education wasn’t a big issue. Growing up in the days long before the state of this country’s children’s health was a political issue I ate my way through the years. Happily, I was never picked on or bullied because of my weight; I wasn’t bullied at all. I had a good circle of friends and, without wanting to sound pompous or immodest, I was popular. Maybe it was my (as my mother called it) ‘happy-go-lucky’ demeanour or that I never appeared to be concerned or worried about my bulk that allowed me to be accepted for what I was. Whatever it was I got on with my schooling, and got on with my eating.

Once I got to senior school I was fairly resolved to my fate. I had this cheery disposition to mask the worry and unhappiness. Being at an all-boys school didn’t help. On top of all the usual puberty issues, the thought of having to strip for PE and all that entailed filled me with dread. To my credit, my school reports tended to say ‘B’ for effort, ‘D’ for attainment. I liked that. I did get involved with the school rugby team for a while and quite enjoyed it. My size worked for me and I was a mean prop or second-row.

By now you’re probably thinking I was a veritable blimp! Well, yes and no. Being tall I was able to carry off most of the weight, but without a shirt on (which was something I tried to avoid whenever ever possible) my body shape was obvious. Worryingly for me, between the ages of 11 and 16 I gained a stone for each year. That wasn’t good. I dreaded PE lessons, feigned illness and injury to avoid the annual cross-country run, and was only ever considered as friend material. Relationships didn’t really enter into the grand scheme of things.

At the age of 14 I met my future wife. I was thrilled when she actually noticed me. When she left school she took up a career that was a fat man’s dream … cook! For the majority of our 15 year relationship I was a well-fed man.

Towards the end of my marriage I took up cycling, swimming, and joined a gym. I wanted to prove to myself, my wife, and my family that I could lose the weight and keep it off. After a while I begin to notice the difference. My clothes were slacker, I wasn’t breathless all the time, I generally looked better. People commented on it and it made me feel good about myself.

In the years since the end of the marriage, my weight has gone up and down like the proverbial yo-yo. Alone I found the weight went; being in a relationship, the feeling of contentment set in and it slowly crept back.

Now, however, is the new Day One! I’m back and determined. Over the years I’ve picked up lots of bit of information about exercise routines, nutritional values, etc. I’m going to see about using these to get myself back to a point where I am not scared, worried, or ashamed of removing my top. One mind-focusing way I’m hoping will help is that I’m going to keep a public record on here of how it’s going. I put together a weights routine and went through it for the first time tonight. I also took had a Body Composition Analysis done to get starting positions. I also intend to keep a ‘food diary’ (not on here, though) to see what I’m eating and what it all contains. Here are the initial results …

Exercise Details (Kg)
Gym Weight...........112
Squat................30
Bench Press..........30
Military Press.......15
Lateral Pulldown.....50
Seated Row...........52.5
Upright Row..........50
Triceps Pushdown.....50
Leg Extension........52.5
Bicep Curl...........25
Leg Curl.............55

Body Fat Analysis
Weight...............17st 5.0lb
BMI..................30.4
BMR..................9553 kJ/2283 kcal
Impedance............374 Ω
Fat %................22.5
Fat Mass.............3st 12.6lb
FFM..................13st 6.4lb
TBW..................9st 11.8lb

Slow Day In My Blogsphere

2005-08-25T14:34:00.000Z

It's a slow day for me today, so I'm going to post a joke that I got sent. It's totally non-PC, rude, and really should be censored, but I don't care. Here it is ...

An out of work pianist with Tourettes Syndrome is strolling around the streets and bars of the city one afternoon.

Walking down a street he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window “Pianist wanted for evening performances”.

“Fucking get in there you cunt!” he says to himself and goes to the bar.

“Get the fucking manager of this pigshit middle class wank pit please you cock sucking cunt”, he says to a somewhat startled barman.

The barman, however, obliges and his manager comes upstairs. “Can I help you sir?” he says.

“Yes you can you fucking fat arsed piece of shit. I saw your shitty advert in the cunting window and I’m here to fucking audition...wanker!”

The manager is naturally put off by the man’s abrasive manner but his dire need for a top class pianist forces him to agree to an audition. The first tune the pianist plays is an uplifting jazzy number, not too involving, yet utterly melodic.

At the end the thrilled barman cries, “Wonderful, wonderful. What was that called?”

“That song, you big nosed fucking twat, was called ‘Excuse me Prime Minister but I just jizzed in your fucking daughter’s eye, and now the cunt’s blind...’

“Oh,” says the manager “err, can you play me another. Something a little less lively maybe?”

“Wanker...” interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad which leaves the manager in tears.

The manager, through his salty teardrops, asks him the title.

“That little number was called ‘Sometimes when you fuck a bird up the shit box you get crap on your bell end’.”

“I see.” says the manager. “Have you got any songs with less offensive titles?”

“Well there’s my jazz number ‘Do you want me to spit your ring-piece’, or there’s the epic ‘I don’t give a fuck if you’re older my dear, you’ve still got fucking cracking jugs’.”

“Look,” says the manager interrupting, “I think you’re a superb pianist but the title of your songs are a little racy. I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.”

“Fuck it.” says the pianist. “Why cunting not.”

On his first night everything is going superbly. The crowd are lapping up his repertoire and his silence is being received as modesty. The only thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a gorgeous blonde in a black evening dress with a split up the side revealing the tops of her stockings, and a plunging neckline which boasts a proud and inviting cleavage.

During the interval the pianist has got such a stonking hard on that he decides to go to the bog and knock one out. Just as he has shot his load he hears himself being re-introduced over the tannoy, so he rushes back to the stage and finishes his act.

After the show he is at the bar relaxing when the blonde approaches him.

“Hi” she says.

“Hello” he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives.

She leans over and whispers in his ear, “Do you know your cock is hanging out of your trousers and spunk is dribbling onto your shoes?’”

Placing his beer confidently on the bar, the pianist grins, looks her square in the eye and yells, “Know it? I fucking wrote it!”

Look Who Decided To Show!

2005-08-24T13:15:00.000Z

(I know I should have posted this last Thursday (18th) but, with one thing and another, I never got round to it.)

Remember a few days ago when I posted this? Well, I’ve got good news. No, I’ve got great news. My wallet turned up! Yes, I’m so pleased. After 5 days of wandering around the cosmos it (he?) decided to return home. Where he went, I don’t know. What wonders of Nature and naturally occurring phenomena he saw, he hasn’t told. It’s like the twist at the end of the film ‘Contact‘ as it seems my wallet spent the entire time, had his journey of discovery and life-changing adventure ... IN BETWEEN THE PILLOWS ON MY BED and never actually moved very far! (Ok, very tenuous link I know, but just go with it, huh?)

Yes. I know. You don’t have to say anything. I can feel the incredulity in your tone. The sense of unbelief surrounding this is palatable. For the life of me, I haven’t got a clue as to how it got there. I don’t even remember taking my wallet upstairs when I got home that evening. To make the situation even stranger the position of the wallet, slap-bang in the centre of the pillow with the 2nd one on top of it, confounds me as to how it got there. Slightly underneath the bottom pillow, or tucked into the pillowcase, maybe. But it’s as if someone, some force unknown and unseen, had carefully and deliberately positioned it.

Of course, Sod’s Law dictated that I had to wait until all the cash and bank cards had been cancelled, and I’d just sent off for a replacement driving licence before I was allowed to find it. How I found it also brought into question my sense of touch. Before going to sleep last night I decided to read for a while. I got into bed and propped myself up with my elbow on the pillow. After a minute or so I realised that there was something solid under my elbow. The rest you know. How could I spent 5 nights with that thing pushing against my head and face and not realise it?!?

Anyway, I’m happy. I’ve got my wallet back. The cards within are now useless, but there’s £15 in notes and coins that I can happily spend.

Picture Gallery 1

2005-08-23T23:01:00.000Z

Swimsuit

Got a few things on my mind at the moment so rather than post nothing, I thought I'd include a picture that can always raise a chuckle in me. Why? I don't know, it just does.

Lewd? A little. Crude? Yeah, of course. Bad taste? Never!

Wandering Star

2005-08-21T22:15:00.000Z

I had a day out on Saturday. Not just a day of wandering around town, window shopping in the city’s shopping centres whilst wondering the eternal question of why there’s so much month left at the end of the money, or pretending to try and be cultural by visiting the oft-worn path of the museum trek. No, I went out of town. Out of county actually … well, several. I should have stayed home and sorted through the never decreasing pile of junk mail that accumulates behind my door, or arranged for someone to come and repair the leak I’ve got in the kitchen roof, or attempted to build/repair bridges that are threatening to get washed away with the tide. But, I didn’t.

The day started out as it usually does. I went to the gym for a couple of hours. I like going to the gym in the morning. I find it sets me up for the rest of the day. Especially good is a session after a night on the lash. Blows away the cobwebs better than any ‘hair of the dog’. But I digress, and the gym or a night out drinking (which I haven’t had for a while now) isn’t really a part of this tale.

After the gym, I intended to return home and look at my options for the day ahead. I got in the car and set off. But as I got closer to my turn-off I realised that I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want this day to be the same as the one I’d had the day before. I wanted something more than a day bouncing off the walls. I thought about the things that needed my attention, the people that could ring me, the situations I could find myself in and I drove straight on past the junction.

I like driving. I enjoy the freedom it gives; the power to be able to go somewhere different in a fairly quick time. For a while my career path involved me behind the wheel of an articulated lorry delivering whatever load I was carrying to the intended destination wherever that was. (You can blame ‘BJ And The Bear’ for that dream!)

Anyway, as I was pointing west I continued in that direction and, as I reached the motorway, I thought I’d better decide where to go. I could turn north and go to York or, by going back towards the coast, Scarborough or Whitby. But I decided to carry on west and see where it lead. (OK, I know the M62 leads to Leeds, Manchester, and Liverpool but I didn’t mean like that!) When I got to the Ferrybridge services I pulled in to get a map and my bearings. Scanning the page I stopped at the word 'Pontefract'. I've never been to Pontefract. I've eaten the cakes, and realised how quickly the word becomes nonsense if you say it often enough. (Try saying 'elbow' a dozen times or so out loud and you'll see.) So I decided to go there.

I spent an hour or so there, wandering around the open-air market and taking in the small town feel of the place. I’d definitely go there again and, this time, I’ll go see the remains of the castle.

Continuing south I had brief stops at Ackworth Moor Top, Hemsworth, and Brierley. By then I’d decided that I’d had enough of city life and wanted to ‘retire’ to the country. Maybe one day, but not for a while yet. The landscapes around these places are amazing. It’s good to travel by the smaller, not so busy, roads when you’ve got the time and just be able to take in the scenery.

The road I was on ended in Barnsley and, as I’d never been there either, I stopped for a while. I realised that I knew someone who lived here, but decided not to call as I wasn’t planning on stopping for long and, besides, short-notice visits can be a nuisance. I wandered around the town centre doing what I said in the morning I wouldn’t do … window shopping! Once a city boy, always a city boy, it seems.

My thoughts turned to home so I headed off to find a motorway back. I decided it was quicker to stick to the motorways, rather than wander across A and B roads where speed wasn’t an option. So following the M1 south I skimmed the top of Sheffield (and nearly stopped to have a look in Meadowhall) and rounded back on to the M18 and M62, getting home in the early evening.

So, why this tale of urban visitation where more time was spent on the travelling rather than the places visited? I think of what the day became for me. I’d been concerned about the jobs I had to do or the people I had to phone, only to find that none of it mattered. My mobile didn’t ring or beep once the entire time I was out. When I got home, I found that no one had called me there. There were no worried messages asking where I was or when I’d be home. For just that day, it was good to be nameless, unwanted, and alone. I was able to travel around the neighbouring counties in perfect anonymity. Well, when I say perfect, I’m now waiting to see if the car was photographed by a couple of speed cameras on the way to Barnsley …

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers On Kittens

2005-08-19T13:23:00.000Z

After the last couple of days I've had I got thinking about what I’ve got to look forward to. I refuse to be brought down by something a trivial as an irate user (note to self: They are ‘customers’ now. It’s a PC (i.e. Politically Correct) thing), or not bounce back when Fate hits you with a bit of a side-swipe. So I thought what events and time markers can I focus on to get me through another day? So, here they are as they stand at the moment. Additional ones could well be added to the list (not here, but generally in the grand scheme of things), but this helps summarise the next few months for me …

August

ü Two long weekends, including one of them a Bank Holiday

September

ü A weekend away with my children and sister in Scarborough at my dad’s Naval Association Reunion
ü Taking my son to college as he starts his course with the Merchant Navy (this is happy, yet sad)
ü A couple of days off work (mid-week, not weekend) just for the Hell of it

October

ü Hull Fair (Europe’s biggest travelling fair)
ü Seeing Toyah in Skegness
ü Seeing ‘The League of Gentlemen’ in Scarborough
e My birthday!

November

ü My sister’s birthday
ü Bonfire Night

December

ü 5 family birthday’s, including my daughter’s
ü Christmas and New Year

March

ü Seeing Depeche Mode in Manchester

OK, things look a little Spartan in January and February, but I’ll make sure something comes along to fill them up a little.

The Sun Is Shining ...

2005-08-17T12:42:00.000Z

The day started so well. The sun was shining, with a promise of a good, long, warm day ahead. I was in earlier than usual, which would be a bonus to my flagging flexi-time balance. I’d, also, come in on my bike for the first time in 3 weeks, having not wanted to aggravate a leg injury I’d got from an over-aggressive gym workout, and was pleased that it hadn’t created more pain.

When I got in, there was a surprising amount of activity going on. It turned out that there’d been a power failure to the building during the night and so all the servers had gone down and were in various states of availability. Fortunately, the majority of the servers I deal with had all rebooted successfully and were just waiting for final checks before the systems on them could be loaded. I got my coffee, sat down at my desk, and started to wade through them.

The phone rang. Nothing unusual in that, of course. Dealing with the servers and the systems on them we’re a fairly active team, phone-wise. With systems down you expect an increase in calls from concerned users ringing for progress details. This call was one of those.

“ICT Central.”

“Hi. I was wondering about the Caring Before Others system and when it’ll be available?”

A sweet, friendly, female voice asking about a major system. Not one of the ones I look after. As my colleague who deals with that one wasn’t in yet my boss had it on his list.

“I’m sorry, no; it’s not available at the moment. It’s being looked at, though. We’re working through the ‘down’ systems and we’re going to get it back as soon as possible ...”

“Do you know how long it’s going to be?”

The usual follow-up question. Not unexpected, not easily answered. This one, however, was asked in a rising aggravated tone.

“At the moment, no, I don’t. As I understand it, there’s still a problem with the electrics so we’re having to bring the servers online slowly so as not to overload the system prematurely.”

I could tell I wasn’t giving her the answers she wanted to hear. The sweetness was quickly disappearing.

“But we rely heavily on this system. It’s very important …”

Everyone feels that their system is the most important and should have priority over all others. Her tone was arrogant, and she’d spoiled my good mood.

“It’s being looked at now, I can assure you. With the ongoing electric issues it would be silly to load the system only to find it falls over within a few minutes. I wish I could give you an estimate as to how long it’s going to be, but that would be silly of me and unfair to you if I raised your hopes unnecessarily.”

“So you can’t tell me how long it’s going to be?”

“No.”

“OK.”

Click.

Hearing the dial tone, I put the receiver down and slowly count to ten. I understand her frustration, I really do. Having worked on ‘the other side’ where I was the one wanting to use the system I appreciate how screamingly annoying it can be, especially if you’re in the middle of the chain and people are also relying on you to provide them with information that is only available from the system that is down.

I stare out of the window, trying to find a nice patch of blue sky to lose myself in for a moment, and then return to my list of servers to check. Getting into work later does cause hassle when you’ve got a certain number of hours to be worked each week but it show as Hell makes you avoid the early morning nasties. Maybe I should remember that the next time I feel all Summer-like.

Hey-ho.

(Following up on this, I heard that the reason for the power loss was due to a light bulb! No, I know, don’t ask. How the loss of a bulb can cause the loss of power to an entire building just beggar’s belief.)

We Are Gathered Here To Mourn The Loss ...

2005-08-15T00:17:00.000Z

I lost my wallet on Saturday evening. Somewhere between the Asda petrol station and home it vanished. What seems rather bizarre (to me) about this vanishing is that after leaving the supermarket I went straight home. Logic, of course, dictates that I must have left it at the petrol station but unless I did the stupid thing of leaving it on the pump or the roof of the car, I couldn't have, as it was a drive through one (so I was sitting in the car after filling up) and I paid with cash. I didn't realise it had gone until Sunday morning when my son asked for some change so he could go get a newspaper. I wandered around the house for the majority of the day turning things over, lifting things up, checking and re-checking places I knew it just wouldn't/couldn't be in the forlorn hope that, by some miracle, it had been spirited there. I checked in the car 3 times ... and it's only a Nissan Micra! Not exactly the most spacious and cavernous of automobiles. I rang the supermarket, willing the assistant to say that it had been turned in and was waiting for me at their customer services desk. Sadly, that wasn't to be.

I spent most of the day in this stump grieving over the loss. I quickly realised, however, that I wasn't unhappy because of the loss of the contents of the wallet. It was for the wallet itself. Why? Well, I've had ... I had ... that thing for getting on for 20 years. It wasn't anything wonderfully special, incredibly expensive, or ornately flashy. It was just a cheap, mass-produced, run-of-the-mill black wallet, with a (now faded) Harley Davidson logo on the front. The inner coin pocket fastener was starting to go, and the main, outer fastener tended to come undone as I put it in my pocket. I bought it whilst on holiday in Great Yarmouth during the courting days of my youth. I think the thing about it was that it was my first proper wallet. OK, I was in my late-teens and I was working, but I'd never had a real need for one before. I never carried a great deal of cash around with me, tending instead to keep coinage in my pocket, didn't have any credit cards (oh, happy days!), and didn't carry condoms around (I was never that pretentious or lucky).

After a few hours I got myself into an acceptable state where I knew I wasn't going to find it ... but I still dithered about ringing the bank and financial institutions to report the loss of my cards. I had that un-nerving certainty feeling at the back of my mind that the moment I rang to cancel the cards I'd find the wallet. I kept wanting to give myself just those few extra minutes to mentally re-trace my steps (again) in the hope that I'd missed something; some unturned stone that would reveal the whereabouts of my missing possession. (Losing the wallet is one thing. Having to go through the hassle and waiting time to replace the cards is something else.) Eventually, of course, I rang. It did, however, take a bit of coaxing from my other half to get me moving.

As it happens, nothing untoward has been attempted with the missing plastic and they are now all cancelled. I'll get my new bankcard by the end of the week and the credit cards within 7-10 working days. What I have to do now, though, is start a search for a new wallet. I can feel a bit of a picky-choosy time ahead for me. Each potential replacement will have something that just doesn't feel right. I can imagine myself saying (a few times), “Well, my old one had this ... and wasn't like that ...”. I’m going to have to replace something that I've come to accept as a part of me. How strange this feeling is.

Those Were The Days ...

2005-08-12T13:54:00.000Z

Dateline: The day before the day before yesterday
Time: 22:12
Place: The Hub of All Computing

It looked like it was going to be a quiet night. The tapes were turning and all seemed well. CAPO was going fine. Already it was into the Payments Interface Production Run and had successfully interfaced with STORES. But, Fate had decided to deal a lousy hand and she came up trumps. How it happened, no one will know. Why it happened, we'll never be able to tell. But it did – the file filled up!

Fortunately, CAPO was ready for it. Against the odds it shook off the chains that were threatening to drag it down. Sending out a distress call it battled on. Like a Phoenix it rose from the ashes and flew on. Nobody knew that anything was wrong. Until the next working day that is ...

Dateline: The day after the day before the day before yesterday
Time: 08:30

She wasn't looking forward to the task ahead of her. It wasn't her usual job. But the time of year called for cover and that was her duty. The Controller, half way through her second cup of coffee and already longing for home, scanned the journal. Then she saw it. WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! “Damn”, she said, and picked up the phone.

“Five-one-six-zero.”
“There's a problem with CAPO. Can you help?”

A short pause. “Why did I have to answer it?” he thought. “Give me the details,” he said.

“File full in CL413. The job continued and finished OK.”
“Thanks.”

He looked at the team. A motley group thrown together by Time and Fate. Each one with their own reasons for wanting to avoid responsibility of this one. Without direct eye contact, they looked back. “You can cope with this one, I'm sure”, said The Leader. “Yeah, no problem” he replied and logged on.

The problem was just as The Controller had stated – the file had filled up. After nearly 9,000 financial transactions the interface had given up. He checked the Failure Log for any help that might be available … there was none. Copy the dumps, change the SCL to increase the file size, and rerun – the stuff JIF was made off!

It worked like a dream. “Boy, someone up there must love me!” he thought. Everything ran like clockwork. Even LAFIS understood! Wow!

“Looks like this one's all wrapped up”, he mused to himself as hit the return for the Generation Deletion.

The interface had finally run to some 9,968 records, creating a file of just under 4 Meg – nearly triple the size of the previous one. No wonder the interface couldn't cope. CAPO had survived and would live to fight another day. “What a system!” he sighed as he logged out.