Liquish All sorts

A bag of Liquish All Sorts is a bag of mixed sweets. Today has been mixed, though perhaps not all sweets, more a case of lets-pass-the-headache-pills-round. It began with a bad dream. Not a nightmare, just a bad dream. I was in the Ritz Office and running about doing things like a fly on acid round a newly deposited turd. Then I woke up. Somewhat concerned I have put myself in the midst of something I should know better to avoid. A nice way to start the day.

In the Fish Factory, a new Fish machine had been put into the loop. Men from I.T. were running about establishing how dials should be set. But for the poor users, we sat, pulled out hair, then between all of us filled up a couple of divan mattresses. Which meant someone else had to volunteer to go down the market and get a job lot of hats. Seeing as most of us were bald at this time. We now have an improved system, but it takes longer for it to boot up while some programs don't work, this however, allows us to make a cup of coffee or tea while we wait. Slowly I can see the entire Factory becoming more caffine dependent than ever. If I smoked, my usage would go up. Unfortunately I eat and the pot may get pottier if I don't watch it.

To cap this off, Sparkling Eyes has told me she has had a million hits on her BLOG, which she has just started. I said it's nothing to do with the number of hits I write because I like it. She's also had a marriage proposal from a man in Morroco and has had a Pakistani send her an email asking why she didn't answer his previous email, because he thinks she beautiful. There is something to be said for writing a BLOG for the right reasons. For your own selfish reason, to know it might get looked at, but to express yourself. What do I need with men from Pakistan running after me I ask, nothing at all. Unless they happen to be on an I.T. helpdesk and I can understand what they are saying. Sparkling Eyes as also told me more or less I write too much. Anyway it doesn't bother me, I will write as much as I like and bore the hell out of anyone who can be bothered. As for those who can't, then it must be something to do with my hair colour. What is left.

I have prepared a card and small present for my friend the Retired English Teacher, because he has been in hospital and is due out soon. It's odd how when as a growing up child you see teachers and think they know everything. How they can be such a big influence in your life. Even if it happens to be in ways of avoiding their homework. Which of course is a creative talent of sorts. My friend I see now through my eyes as an adult rather than a child. I know he isn't all knowing, I can see his shortfalls, his meanderings and his groans. I can now see the child in him as well. The sometimes apprehensive, wondering child. I have great affection for him but I also see him as a pain in the butt at times. Maybe it's to do with his inability to grasp New Technology. Now coming to think of it, seems like the entire Fish Factory fall into this group, then there's one thing, we're all in good company. So anyone fancy an All Sort?