This morning i saw my breakfast twice. Once to eat once to throw up. This has never happened to me before, without reason. People who I told seemed to think it was with going out into the sun. But this explanation doesnt add up. Because I hadn't really let myself get into the sun. The coffee was nice going down but coming back up was discerning. Maybe it was some kind of curse on me? Nope, just some kind of belly bug. Even a big belly bug.
Tomorrow morning, I'll check be weary if it happens again.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
DLR to East London
I got on the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) this afternoon with the little Oriental fella. These are short, light trains which travel without any driver. Except there usually is a guard on them, who ensures the doors open and close correctly. Though I expect if they really are short staffed the DLR trains would run without any human intervention. It took a mere 30 mins to reach our destination.
East London stations all seem to be within moments of each other, to the degree it seems nonsensical to have so many stops. The other thing is the weird and wonderful names they have, Mudchute and Pudding Mill Lane are a couple of stops which stick in my mind. Even though I've never got off at either. They just seem to be odd names to give places. Then again it is the East End of London, and presently London's mini Manhattan. An Odd mix. Especially when you consider Billingsgate Market. A renown fish market, open the earliest of hours, and bang right on the edge of this mini Manhattan. Fact is Billingsgate was there long before the high rises started to sprout like chicken pox on an infected child. Everyone knows it. Odd fish and money. The two in such close proximity. Perhaps the genetic material from one of the fish will rub off on the money. Then I could go fishing for money.
Knowing my luck my fishing licence would be out of date, and the only thing I'd catch would be Moby Dick. Where's Captain Ahab when you need him?
East London stations all seem to be within moments of each other, to the degree it seems nonsensical to have so many stops. The other thing is the weird and wonderful names they have, Mudchute and Pudding Mill Lane are a couple of stops which stick in my mind. Even though I've never got off at either. They just seem to be odd names to give places. Then again it is the East End of London, and presently London's mini Manhattan. An Odd mix. Especially when you consider Billingsgate Market. A renown fish market, open the earliest of hours, and bang right on the edge of this mini Manhattan. Fact is Billingsgate was there long before the high rises started to sprout like chicken pox on an infected child. Everyone knows it. Odd fish and money. The two in such close proximity. Perhaps the genetic material from one of the fish will rub off on the money. Then I could go fishing for money.
Knowing my luck my fishing licence would be out of date, and the only thing I'd catch would be Moby Dick. Where's Captain Ahab when you need him?
Friday, May 09, 2008
The Pub
It's odd but going to the Pub can be an enlightening experience. Seeing especially people I'd already see during working hours, but in a different light. This does not mean they are drunk. It means relaxed, away from the stresses and strains of a Fish Factory. Then of course there is always the off chance of seeing a character absent for ages, or making new friends, hopefully not drunk, because making friends with someone who is drunk is not a practice I'd encourage. They may never remember who you are when sober. Mind it's just like being sober and having a conversation with a drunk, especially serious. Then it's just not worth it. I'm sure others think the same of me, I'd never have a conversation with myself if I were drunk. But then it's odd also how other people react towards drunks. Especially if they are not used to seeing intoxicated persons. Sober ignorant people can act like a drunk has got leprosy. Which is another experience I'll not go into.
From my local, I recall an odd Irish fella who sat at a table on his own drinking a Guinness. A Good choice of drink. I'd seen him in there a number of times and then on one occasion I started chatting to him. He seemed quite an amenable bloke. He confessed to liking the odd bet on a horse and once having been to a race course in Scotland, the Ayr track I think. Another time quite recently when the urge to have a pint overcome me I popped into my watering hole and had a chat with another regular, again I'd barely spoken to before, but who was quite OK to chat to. Perhaps the need of having a chat is another reason for entering a Pub. The conversation went on, I ordered a meal and after the conversation continued. We'd talked about Sky TV and the cost it is to Pubs to air premiership footy matches. The monthly licence is phenomenal. In my pub they chose to dump Sky. I don't blame them. The Irish fella let on he was going to use another pub because the price was going up. I didn't see him a couple of weeks later, he just stopped going there. I hope it was nothing to do with my talking to him.
The make up of employees at the fish factory is of a different ilk nowdays. These people would prefer to sing in a choir, go to church, call people not related to them brother or sister. Other's live miles away in lands where the roads wind and bend and there are no lights on the roads at night. Stick land. They have fields and as neighbours cows. I've walked through cow fields before and they stink. My belief is moderation. A little of something is good, too much is not. And as for abstention, that's something I try to abstain from.
From my local, I recall an odd Irish fella who sat at a table on his own drinking a Guinness. A Good choice of drink. I'd seen him in there a number of times and then on one occasion I started chatting to him. He seemed quite an amenable bloke. He confessed to liking the odd bet on a horse and once having been to a race course in Scotland, the Ayr track I think. Another time quite recently when the urge to have a pint overcome me I popped into my watering hole and had a chat with another regular, again I'd barely spoken to before, but who was quite OK to chat to. Perhaps the need of having a chat is another reason for entering a Pub. The conversation went on, I ordered a meal and after the conversation continued. We'd talked about Sky TV and the cost it is to Pubs to air premiership footy matches. The monthly licence is phenomenal. In my pub they chose to dump Sky. I don't blame them. The Irish fella let on he was going to use another pub because the price was going up. I didn't see him a couple of weeks later, he just stopped going there. I hope it was nothing to do with my talking to him.
The make up of employees at the fish factory is of a different ilk nowdays. These people would prefer to sing in a choir, go to church, call people not related to them brother or sister. Other's live miles away in lands where the roads wind and bend and there are no lights on the roads at night. Stick land. They have fields and as neighbours cows. I've walked through cow fields before and they stink. My belief is moderation. A little of something is good, too much is not. And as for abstention, that's something I try to abstain from.
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