IBS in Cambridge

Green car man rang me up. As the bank holiday was approaching the three musketeers decided to do something. A brief morning of negotiations and we were to hit Cambridge. I'd never been to Cambridge and was looking forward to it, however my belly had other ideas. The morning was filled with belly belly illness. Irritable Bowel Syndrome(undiagnosed as Sparkling Eyes would remind me) I'd been to the loo 5 times before 11 a.m. and eventually went to the chemist for some pills. Perhaps this was an omen of the day. Cloud has been gathering over London and the Weather reports were equally ominous. Yep, another bank holiday and we were likely to have rain. Just maybe my belly belly was tied into it.

We got to Cambridge after an hour and half of driving, and following the directions on Tom Tom (GPS/Road navigation system)speaking out when it felt the need. Cambridge is a small city, mostly populated with incredibly grand old buildings, but it's got some very nice modern shops as well. I think because it is a pretty much established Towny kind of place it was never meant for cars, or certainly any overly heavy traffic. We got a Park and Ride bus into Cambridge which only took ten minutes. There are 31 different colleges in Cambridge all with their own Coat of Arms and some with Latin type of name (e.g. Corpus Christi, Darwin College, Magdalene College, Trinity Hall ect). The population appeared to be majorly white and young. I must admit a slight dizzy feeling seeing this population make up. My own area is very, very multicultural. I could go into long ramblings about the educated white society and the poor working class background of most people, but I'll not. Cambridge has a smallish river on it's outskirts, this is called the Carn. It's a pleasant Towny place, one which has a calmness about it and you'd like to live in. One away from the Urban problems places like London, Birmingham, Liverpool might have. Should I say this was my impression for I know little about Cambridge other than this afternoon visit.

One of the must do things when in Cambridge is to go on a boat and be punted around along the river. Then back again. But we didn't get to do this. I was to blame. For at this point my 7 month pregnancy which had been staring me in the gym mirror 3 times this week became a 9 month rock hard soccer ball. If I weren't a man (which Sparkling Eyes would say I was more of a woose) I would of been in contractions and screaming. The belly belly was kicking in. What discomfort it was as well. I disappeared off to try and find a toilet. While my 2 musketeer companions stood around the Punt station and were accosted several times by men who wanted their custom (for a ride on a Punt that is, nothing else). The cost of a ride reduced as each man gave them a slip of paper with a quote for 3 persons. It began at £10 each then eventually dropped to £6 each. They must of looked like bait by the Carn, each fishy wanting a bite. Business was slow for the old chaps today. I'm sorry we didn't get to do the punt. I hate my belly, but I got to live with it.


Later that evening I got drunk on wine and the IBS had subsided. If it were a little homunculus I'd of killed him several times over. Throttled the life out of the little bugger. And he's gotta be resident in my belly the little shit. Whatever you do, whoever you are don't ever get IBS. Mind the getting drunk bit was good. I'll now debate the rest of the morning whether to hit the gym again. Or just go an have my baby.

This last picture is what a homonculus looks like, except in my case I got my hands round his neck.

The Unusual Mannequin

On passing a clothes shop I had to look twice. It’s not something I’d usually do, but it was one of those I-can’t-believe-it moments. A male dummy stood in the window, wearing a hat, T-shirt and jeans and it looked really quite fashionable, at first glance. Except on second glance there was an appreciable difference to other male dummys. In particular because of two things pointing out. This male mannequin had tits.

It reminded me of a couple of events. How as a slowly increasing pot bellied man I’ve began to acquire my own mammaries much to my own embarrassment. It’s a weight thing, and of the time when I went in the men’s changing room to change for gym, I was slimmer then. I saw a body builder put on his T-shirt, replete with his very own size A’s. It was like seeing something you didn’t want to see but at the same time couldn’t help watching. Kind of macabre. The worse thing was they were actually saggy. It’s also at times like this you can’t but question your own sexuality. I wondered, did I stare because it was weird or was it because of some underlying sexual fantasy of wanting my own boobs to play with? I hope it was the first.

If anyone was into steroids this was the kind of incident would likely send a chilling message. But still with weight gain I’ve noticed men gain a little extra where they’d rather shouldn’t, not if they’re a man.

I passed the shop and couldn’t help laugh. Fortunately I’ve been to the gym twice this week. That’s twice in 5 months. Maybe next time I’ll do an extra 5 minutes on the tread mill. And not too energetically, I don’t want my little boobs bobbing about and people getting to ogle at them.

The bells, the cat, the pidgeons

This morning I woke up at 2 a.m. it was the phone. I could hear it and it must of rang through my subconscious state. But as I stirred and I'm not talking about stirring the milk in my tea. Stirring and flickered into consciousness it struck me I had pulled the phone socket out. But being not quite sure, and thinking maybe I hadn't I trampsed downstairs. Checked the phone and it was dead. Checked the socket and I had indeed pulled it out. I endeavoured to get back to sleep and did so without to many problems, except at first my heart was pumping faster.

I woke up again. This time I wasn't sure what the time was because I couldn't be bothered to rouse enough out of my half sleeping state. I could hear the cat meowing so purposefully chose to ignore the racket and drifted off again. Heart not going so erratically.

Again I woke and now the early morning light was beginning to come through. But I considered it to still be too early to be worth getting up. With no idea of what the time was I closed my eyes. A little while later, I heard wood pigeons and managed to push them out of my mind drifting back into slumber.

I got up and it was just after 6 a.m. an early start but I'd of rather it had been 7 a.m or even 7:30 a.m ish. The radio on I heard the news, the main part being about the Cutty Sark catching on fire. I wondered why I had heard the phone ring when I knew I had pulled it out. When I thought I had heard the cat, but it was way too early for the cat to stir, he's lazy and doesn't get up till he hears your up. I wondered about the pigeons something I could not predict had really made any noise. If the other two events weren't real did the pigeons exist either?

And the day went on.

Snow storm

I was listening to the radio this morning and a phrase struck me. The words were "a snow storm of speculation" it just kind of brought an image to mind describing a political event. Playing with words and using them in such an inventive and unusual way is something which can only enrich the language we use each day. Though at the moment there's actually more rain here than snow.

There was also some words in Latin. Just casually dropped in the conversation. It seems at times English is inadequate to describe a theme. I'm going to make a list of a number of Latin phrases I've come across and their meaning. Useful ones, or just one's which can be dropped in any conversation. So although Latin is described as a dead language, it's not entirely true. Further it seems an injustice such words are only spoken by persons considered more knowledgeable than others. If Latin were a subject at school we'd all know what it was and not let this cloud of pomposity effect vision. No it might be a dead language but the thing is you don't have to be idiot by not using it. In fact I am sure we all do to some extent but in ignorance.

Watch this space for some Latin words.

Return to Fish

I returned back to the Fish Factory today, and had to do my bit at a small convention of Ritz Keepers. A short interval in the morning and I'd got the gist of what was going on. The fishes could all get gutted without proper representation in one big swoop of fish factory changes. Well life goes on.

Sparkling Eyes is off seeing Travis tonight in tow with Rock Chick and her energetic pal Hyper girl. I'm not. I'll stick a CD on and remind myself what they sound like. I know they will have fun. Back to the grind stone after a week in the company of Sparkling Eyes. Things wont quite be the same. But if I'm really luck it wont rain on me every day. So I will not be either blue and particularly yellow, I'll just Sing, everything will be alright.

Night all.

Not a woose

Some one I know has a little problem, or maybe not. He'll watch a movie or listen to music he likes and for some reason just cries. This leaves the poor old sod open to jibes of "woosey" and "you got more hormones than a woman" but he can't help it, he's just sensitive to things. And a nice bloke as well. Or maybe it's just better to let it out than keep it in. Crying I hear is actually good for you, the tears we release also take away chemicals or so 'they' say, which are built up through the stress of everyday living. Although I'm not entirely sure of who "they" happen to be, I'm sure it's true though.

I've spent a wonderful week away in the company of Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. I got told off for being untidy. For being lazy, for being a woose for enticing Rock Chick into arguments. But regardless there were a few laughs along the way. I found as I was leaving Rock Chick actually smiled rather than bite my head off. She has a very nice smile although this seems to be matched by a liking for the macabre, such as TV shows about killers or even books about them. That's not to mention horror movies. Sparkling Eyes as usual is an unusual and beautiful woman challenging me whenever she so felt the need. I expect I deserved every bit of it, but regardless I come back for more, it must be something to do with loving her. Funny thing love. It sure makes into a different person, unless you happen to be a woose already.

I tried the advice of Bonner man, a gentle giant who looks more like a don't-mess-with-me-giant cos he'll eat you alive. I tried to develop the stare. It's the special stare you give when a man has to give it. One which warns others, you mean business. I spent all of 3 seconds looking in the mirror to perfect it. And am afraid it didn't work. Rock Chick saw through me. In a turn of events she then gave me her version of the stare. It worked. Bloody woose. That will be the last time I take Bonner man's advice.

Tony its about time

Wonderful news hit the headlines yesterday. Tony Blair will resign his post on the 27th June 2007, and the nation is sighing in relief. He nearly but not quite apologised for being a poodle to Bush. Unfortunately there is only one contender for the next Presidency of the UK. Gordon holds-the-purse-strings Brown. And today it was Gordon who made it known he was the major contender. Except, he's going to be shadow boxing for the benefit of a farcical contest of one. No one will dare to stand in the ring against him. No character Gordon is holding all the cards, but not only this he has bunged the referee a few quid, stuck a horse shoe in his glove, and taken a concoction of amphetamines. He's now buzzing.

I'm not a Tory supporter and maybe this is why I have come to get a cold shiver with old Tony. Because Tony has been more Tory than many Tories have been. Yet at the same time Gordon doesn't actually instill confidence. I get the feeling he is a control freak. It is with this feeling I'd go so far as to make a prediction. within the next 2 to 3 years, Labour will be plagued with in-fighting. At this stage parliament will take on a different appearance.

In contrast Scotland have elected a new party to run the business, it's the Scottish Nationalist Party SNP. I feel happiness for Scotland, they are a brave proud people who deserve their own governance. Best of all they don't have a queen or royal family. Perhaps they might like to take on a little bit of England's royalty. We could ship a couple up there, just so they don't feel out of place. However, for some reason I don't think they'd get through the border. I don't blame the Scots.

Tony's out YES. Hey anyone got a job for an ex prime minster. Well trained and pretty good poodle impersonator.

Too much of a good thing

Yesterday was one of those days where I'd had too much of a good thing. Food. It seems when I was a growing up kid and teenager there never was enough of it about. Especially with siblings being just as voracious. But now I'm somewhat grown up, there's shed loads of it. The problem is I'm eating shed loads of it as well. So slowly each year my girth expands. Now I feel bloated. I can just about see my toes over my belly and am possibly on the cusp of turning. Turning into something quite large. Of all the things to lose, weight has got to be the hardest. I don't exercise like I did some years ago, and in reality to maintain myself all I probably need to do is eat like a sparrow. Which might be OK for sparrows but human beings it's harder to do. Humans need substance to eat, the more the merrier, well to a point.

Anyway, this morning I'm on a train to see Sparkling Eyes. I doubt whether I'll get much exercise stuck in a seat for over 8 hours. Now if exercising my brain burnt of the calories it would be a little easier. I could sit and deliberate. But no. I have to be made out of a skeleton, and muscles and everything else. I am organic. An animal. I need my exercise. It's just a shame thinking about it don't count. Oh well better get off. Am sure Sparkling Eyes can find some jobs for me to do. OK it might be mowing the lawn or painting or some other house related odd job thing, but at least I'll be doing something. In the meantime Rock Chick will likely poke me with something sharp. Lucky they don't have cattle prods where I'm off to, I'd hate to be welcomed by "moooooooooo" and "here's something I prepared earlier." I've never thought electric shock therapy worked, thank heavens it's a vacation.

I'm quite happy really. It's just these bloody jeans, I do so wish they weren't so tight.

De-stressing

In 18 more posts I'd of reached that 100 mark, bloody amazing. Even though it's not quite a year, with a little luck I'll reach it just as the year of BLOG writing is marked.

The Fish Factory has been exceptionally busy. So much my in bucket has about 200 assorted fishes thrashing about needing processing. Some of them make a bigger splash than others. And the odd one is having little fishes to exacerbate the problem. In addition there's another 100 plus hidden items in a backlog bucket which has been kicked under the counter so far I can't see it. It wasn't me who kicked it there. Fortunately. It was my immediate big fish, his idea was if we can't see it then we'll be able to do more work. Or something along those lines. So all in all mid week I'd reached pretty high levels of stress. Fantasies of murder were on my mind. The kind you have to help relief the situation.

Then it hit me. I think it was the Thursday it hit me. It hit me with the revelation I would soon be seeing Sparkling Eyes. Oh boy do I need some company with her. She'll put everything right, or she'll cause me to think so much about her I don't have time to think about anything else. Which is probably more of the case. Not to mention Rock Chick shooting arrows at me, sticking me with a cow prod and seeing what the highest voltage is I can take. OK, it may sound sadistic but it's all in the best possible repartee, with a lot of fun. Which reminds me, Rock Chick said something about getting her a present. And it's not even her birthday, it was just because she things I should. It's Sunday. The next 2 days are holidays. I suppose I could hatch one out of an egg, I'll just sit here concentrate hard and see if anything happens.