Chrimbo with the Flu

It's been a scintillating Chrimbo. I was in bed at 7:30 p.m. Chrimbo Eve, I wish I could say it was because I expected Santa to turn up with the latest Tonka Toy, a stocking full of nuts and enough chocolates to make me puke. No it wasn't. Just my luck to get the flu. To be hit hard. Out for the count. About 15 hours later I got up out of bed Chrimbo Day. My chocolate has been pill popping paracetamol tablets or Echinacea. The odd Lemsip, copious amounts of vitamin C in tangerines, cranberry juice and squash. In consequence I've been a moody bear. An intolerant grouch, coughing constantly, sneezing inappropriately and being careful to eat only the smallest of children to pass my way.

My food portions have been small. Because after each meal I'd feel like I had to hold down a projectile banshee waiting to expel herself from my stomach. OK feel like crap but I'm still alive. Wish I could taste the food though. Nothing has any flavour and if it does have flavour then I feel the need for only the most simple cooked food. Nothing extravagant, just a preferrence for simple food. My head has felt like it is about to explode. And any moment brains will be spattered over the surrounding walls. Slowly crawling down, quivering, my body functioning to an all but decapitated reasoning. The passed couple of days have not been so good.

Depending how I feel tomorrow morning I may find myself treading the mill of work and heading to the Fish Factory. If the chill which comes at night doesn't grab me when I next hit the hay. A chill which feels deep within my bones. No matter how many coverings the bed has it's still there. Or has been there. Tonight I escape it. More Echinacea. More paracetamol. Tomorrow I break free. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes so I will from this flu. Alive. Awake. Then to take on the world.

The end of Mankind

With interest Sparkling Eyes remarked on an article she had read and passed it over for my perusal. Disappointingly the words strung together told of the slow and inevitable decline of Men from society. How the gene which held our chromosome had a degrading impact over time. So in something like 125,000 years or maybe less. It would mean no more men would walk this planet. We would not be around to open up over-tightened jars, our skills in map reading, chess and the allure of physics would be lost.

With Man effectively extinct, the world would be inhabited only by women. As for the procreation of humanity, the article went on to say artificial sperm was now on the edge of development. Two females could in theory provide the genetic material to create sperm and so babies. There were examples of fish populations which were totally female. The world would be so different.

With this thought I sit aghast, petrified. I can not even consider what this it would be like, it is completely incomprehensible.

So it has been said, Men are not the stronger sex. Not in the long run, so I expect this means it's about time Sparkling Eyes spent some time rubbing my back and feet. It's a joke honest.

Side bet on a weep

With delight I recently visited Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. I spent a week in their company and learnt what it is to be a man whose strings were being pulled from two directions or more. But of all things it soon emerged there was a little side bet going on which I had not been told about. It did not take long to find out what it was.

It has to be down to a combination of hormones and age. The two together now have resulted in my becoming a bit weepy at times. Things just choke me up more than normal. It used to be one of the reasons I avoided watching Lassie films as a kid, they just made me cry. It’s something boys should not do. Now things are different. If something on the small box touches my heart strings, I can’t help myself. My emotions are moved. I let burst. It’s worse if I try and hold them back because then it’s like a big choking sound comes from me. As I breath in deep and then let rip with the wet stuff flooding down over my cheeks. Of course it is all to the delight of Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. They see me, and then burst out with laughter. They wonder what the next item on TV will do to me. They watch. Glancing over just checking out. Waiting. Then tell each other if one is not around what set me off again. This is completely unfair. Unjust. But it happens. On this occasion unbeknown to me. I was the subject of a bet. How many times would his cheeks be washed? How many times would this softy have his emotions get the better of him? The betting was on three or more. Though I deny I reached this number, the terrible duo watching me judged it to be higher. How could I get them back I thought? I’d just have to wait my turn, and watch. They were keeping tabs. I’d have to keep an eye open as well.

There was a film on TV which I hadn’t seen before called “The Colour Purple.” With telly on the three of us sat down and enjoyed a warm room against a cold winter evening. The gas fire warmed us. Relaxed I lay draped on a sofa. Rock Chick and Sparkling Eyes sat close to each other glued to the telly on another sofa. The film rolled on. It’s quite a long film as well. The story enjoyable, based on the early 1900s black America. I was a little disappointed when Whoopy Goldberg’s character advised one man to beat his wife so she’d obey him more. That was sad I thought. It must have been near the end of the film about 2 hours in. When I felt a little twinge but not enough to let them roll when I turned and checked out the dreaded duo. Perhaps it was the sound of a sniff. Perhaps an unusual quietness from their side of the room. But there was no mistaking it. Both Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick sat there looking at the TV each with tears streaming down their faces. Oh my. What an enjoyable sight. I laughed and cajoled them. They were tears of joy for me. So yes, I am a softy, I’ll admit it. But even softy blokes get their rewards if they wait long enough.

We all got a tear or two and they are wonderful things. They are indicators of our own humanity. Our empathy an acknowledgement of the world. All I have to do now is instill a sense of wonder and happiness when Sparkling or Rock see a Sci Fi movie. Thing is I don’t think it’s going to happen.

Winter is here

There is something satisfying to waking up in a warm snug bed. Where you are just so comfortable and relaxed and just don't want to move, but know there's no choice. It's a working day. Inevitably it will be another late start. This morning, for about the third morning in a row, it was cold. damn cold. So cold I saw a monkey running down the street after his brass balls. Frost disguised the ground like the fine powdering of a Christmas Jule tide log. One step outside and my cheeks chilled. The capillaries constricted, nose ears and cheeks going red. Each exhale was equivalent to the steam from an old locomotive train. Each inhalation biting until my lungs were used to the crisp air. It was cold and I could only hope it continues to be cold for a good 3 or 4 weeks. To remind every person who lives in the UK, there are 4 seasons and this is what winter should really be like.

With global warming there have been very few cold winters in the UK. The weather has been so mild some years that winter may have only visited for a few days. To live in the UK you have to be versatile, your body should be able to adapt to both hot and cold. Come winter an internal clock gets kicked into action. Where your own body realises it has to adapt. Then when the temperature is 11 or more degrees Celsius you know it is mild. On a cold day it's wind chill which makes it worse still. Then the boys from the men are measured. Notably we all become mice, find a building and go into it. Especially with shops. Mingle around the stalls looking, but in reality just keeping warm. Make sure you always got a hat. Make sure you're prepared. Let the body's own central heating start. Eat porridge. Wear the warmest clothes you can find, even if they are outlandish, because in cold weather it don't matter. Because every person will look at your funny Russian hat and show envy. With observation check out the cool hip teenage boys who usually hang their jeans half way down their knees. Because now. Those same jeans have been pulled up. Poor things. Even fashion is secondary to warmth on a winter day. Oh how a cold bum would be a pain.

And eat, and eat, and eat. Like a fat squirrel. Eat store fat because those walks or jaunts into the world burn up more calories than normal. Or is it a chattering jaw? Warm up those arms, warm up your constitution, sing, dance, these are all ways to seek one thing. Warmth. Oh how I do love a warm bed on a cold day. Snuggle, snuggle, snuggle.

Gordon Ramsey the Hero

I just signed up to 4oD, this is channel 4 television on demand. It took about 20 minutes to get the software downloaded and to register myself, but it lets me view certain tv programs. For free. Wonderful. The word free. Not to be mixed with the word Three. Though sounding similar, quite different. So watching Channel 4, I've now been able to catch up with a couple of back episodes of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares. Not to mention Father Ted. The two sets of programs being quite different. Chalk and Cheese.

Ramsey is like a breath of fresh air in a field encrusted with cow pats on the hottest day of the year. He has no qualms about telling it as it is. He takes a failing restaurant on the verge of disaster and turns it round. You might even say it is common sense. But common sense is a valuable item quite lacking in man trades. In one kitchen he found rotting old food in the bottom of a oven and condemned it. His remarks towards the head chef were all suggesting one thing, though he did not say it outright. It was "sack the twat" I heard it coz i could read between the lines. I expect many viewers did as well. Yes he swears, but he swears from his own passion, from his knowledge and ability which has already been proven. He don't have Michelin Stars for nothing me thinks. When he speaks people listen and the one who doesn't is a fool.

In many respects his acumen reminds me of that other great, Sir Harvey Jones who played a business trouble shooter. Again an inspiring man, one who didn't swear, but I tell you what one who could tell the cow pat from the breeze. And although all of us has pretty clear opinions on what a cow pat is it's odd a lot would rather stand amongst them than stand in the fresh zephre from an Atlantic swell.

Sunday morning waiting in trepidation

At some point this morning the Talkatives arrive. It's the pre Chrimbo visit. Mad dog will be going crazy and no doubt knock down the Chrimbo tree. Our cats are going to have to be locked away each in a different room. Because they don't get on. Then I'll have to take the entire family for a walk because mad dog hasn't been out for her little run. Return home about an hour later. And Crazy mama would of had a go at burning the dinner or ensuring every substance she cooks has got some form of hydrogenated fat in it. Did you know Paxo Stuffing has got it? Read the packet you'll see. Then the boys will get into a fight, little Angel Talkative will scream, and I will through half bleary eyes nod off and watch part of East Enders, wishing I was in some other land. Some very far away land. Where mad dogs, crazy mother's, over talkative sisters, screaming little angels and hydrogenated fats did not exist.

Better get changed and scrubbed up. Wonder if garlic would help?

Scams on ebay

When something riles me up I get angry. This can either dissipate slowly, fast or result in me dong something. The doing something part depends on how much effort is associated with the grievance. Now, I have decided to be incredibly careful or not purchase goods on ebay. Particularly because I've realised I was due two sets of refunds, and neither turned up. So I have reason to be aware or as the latin phrase goes emptor caveat (buyer beware), or on your own head be it.

I had tried to purchase a MP3 player through ebay some months ago. The seller in Hong Kong chose not to sell the item even though I had fairly won it. Perhaps they decided it was not enough money, but alternatively perhaps they thought "here is another sucker" slapped their hands together and watched the money go into their bank account with a gleeful smile. Not to mention background music of Louis Armstrong singing "What a wonderful world." Big cigar smoking, pat on back, and little asian lady on beck and call. Several emails came to me from the seller. They were all of the nature of "please withdraw your comments and we will refund you the monies" Of course my reply was, of the nature "return my money then i will withdraw the comments." Time passed, more emails sent then nothing. The problem was letting the time pass by and doing nothing. That was like shooting myself in the foot. Maybe that's why mother nature gave us ten toes. Like a cat has 9 lives, we can shoot each toe off with each mistake. Presently I'd be walking on stubs.

In reviewing my emails, I also found a second purchase made where the buyer was trying to return monies back to me. Again several months ago and I'd sat on my backside watching paint dry. The items were not expensive but still it was my hard earned cash gone into some Hong Kong syndicate. Yes, both purchases were for electrical goods from Hong Kong. No wonder China doesn't want to invade HK because they got my dosh and probably the dosh from quite a few other unsuspecting ebayers.

I checked out ebay and also Paypal. Because I'd allowed too much time to pass by there is very little garantee or come back I now have. I am out of pocket, stung, hung up and dried like Tutemkarmen. Worse probably. So the motto is, get mad and act quick and of course emptor caveat. Otherwise some little Hong Kong ebay seller will light up his next cigar and begin his speach in Cantonese one what the West did for the East. And how good it is democracy in the West supports the East. Well maybe he's got a big family, lots of little mouths to feed. Or maybe I should just get the big message written accross my forehead removed. Yes, the one read by all and sundry. "SUCKER!!!!!!"

Discussions with Sparkling Eyes

Sparkling Eyes has been having problems with her Laptop computer. It was going slow. Taking about an hour to warm up and get logged on the Internet. So in desperation she gave it to Fat Lad chunky man (relative) who lives down the road. He in turn spent 3 days. Doing dodgy deals. Getting information from people who were shady. Mostly because the shady person stays indoors and smokes whacky backy too much. Their skin must be white. Not getting out enough and in the sun, mind there isn't much sun about in Scotland this time of year, especially with their footy team being marginally better than the English one. Yep no much sun about. Returning to Fat Lad. He locked himself away. Disappeared for a moon and a day. Then resurfaced with Sparkling's Laptop. He'd done this, and then done a little of that and now it is working. YES. Working. Sparkling is over the moon. She would be, seeing as there's little daylight. But it means communication. New reformatted fuel injected laptop hits record speeds. It's a line which could of been written in a local rag. Nevertheless, it now meant I could have a good chat with Sparkling Eyes. Laptop. Communication. Chat MSN.



So we began by typing on MSN. Which is slow but seeing as I'm the better typer it can be to my advantage. Yes those nights of late night education meant I learnt qwerty by heart. But I was as this was tiresome I initiated a verbal discussion. Sparkling did though mention I was not going to get a chance to use her laptop the next time I was up there. Which hit me hard. Later, about 2 hours later I had been being accused of arguing to every subject Sparkling brought up. Even argueing about who argues. We eventually finished talking. In fact I even pointed out to Sparkling it wasn't just me who had a problem with being argumentative. She had one as well. Every little thing I said she had to argue with, and yes so did I with Sparkling. Though I am sure at times Sparkling was leading me on with a carrot just so she could hit me over the head. I'm going up shortly and I get told I have to be tidy. Behave myself. Not get into an argument. And then Sparkling says it's better when I am in the flesh because she feels like knocking me out. lol. The problem she puts forward is when I return back to London I get brave. Too challenging. So it seems she likes me to be moulded when she has her hands on me. Of course this is not the case. Because the fundamental personality of any individual can not be moulded shaped or changed. It is there and always will be there and has to be put up with for all it's bad as well as good points.



Sparkling tells me we are both two different personalities. Of course to a point. But not entirely. Because there are several areas we have mutual agreement with. So I expect it's a matter of accepting and loving those differences. The differences are wonderful. Sparkling likes to put out the Chrimbo lights. Me I'd rather they were left on the tree indoors. But so what, it means nothing to how I feel about Sparkling. Don't know why it is I keep getting told off for stuff though. Must be a woman thing. Where they just feel good if they are giving you a good telling off. The hoovering can wait. OK yes sometimes I forget to put the dishwasher on. OK it does need a dusting and the lawn needs cutting, I'll do it tomorrow. Laptops can be nasty little things.