Dull Day

It's been a dull day over London, overcast the entire day. I don't think I saw a single ray of sunshine. Which made it dark indoors and dark especially when waking up in the morning.

There's been no communication from Sparkling the last couple of days. I'm not texting her, she's not texting me, so we're stuck in some no-mans-land. A misty fog of obscurity settles itself down. Nothing going or coming. Just damp dark and dull weather. If she can't be bothered to text me, why should I be bothered to text her? I'm sure I'll calm down at some point. The point when I'm missing her kicks in and a strange unaccountable magnetism draws me to the digits on my mobile phone.

I've managed to upset Lazy Ass-stuck-in-room boy. Who has permanently locked himself away in a room with either PlayStation games, his girlfriend, or loggin on and off the Internet. No job. No income. No aspiration of doing anything, except smoking, collecting rubbish from throw away take outs and unwashed clothes. I upset him along the lines of getting a job. I am fed up with his complete inactivity. Both barrels were let lose. I worked at 11 years of age, then got a job at 17 when I left school. He's now 21 I think? And has done nothing productive. If this were China and you didn't have a job or work, you'd die of starvation there's no free tickets there. To boot I had a dig and his sister Teeny ignorant girl, who has provided a wealth of intelligence in her inability to conquer GCSE's, and again show no motivation.

I'm fed up with people asking me for change, when quite clearly they are not destitute and are trying to fleece anyone they can. I'll add complete annoyance at litter louts, throwing the rubbish in the street and not carrying it to a bin. Which is very little effort. They have no respect for their country so I have no respect for them.

I'm fed up of junkies all over the place and skanky looking teenager's who think they are big because they have a gang culture look about them. Wear jeans nearly falling off their asses like they are putting out their backside for any batty boy in the area. It's fashion I know. But when it looks like you've crapped your jeans coz the crutch hangs so low seems to me they've lost a brain cell. Not to mention the odd-ones-out, lads trying to fit into a cultural stereotype when they plainly are and never will. They are the wrong race, the wrong colour, the wrong body type, but they want to look like idiots they can, it is after all a free world.

I detest the lunatic car drivers who talk on their mobile phone and drive their car even though it is against the law. One handed, as if they have been given some royal decree which says the law does not apply. They should be deprived of their wheels, fined a hefty amount of readies and made to walk the plank. Personally I'd super glue their phones to the palm of their hand then give them a strong dose of laxative.

I am also completely fed up with cafes and their poor excuse of food they sell to the accepting public. If chips were off the menu by command of the law what other substitute of inadequate nutrition would they come up with? Our diet is so poor, we have no appreciation or understanding of what this degenerate garbage consumed each day is actually doing to us. As each and everyone of us dies through too high salt consumption, oil, grease, trans fats, various degrees of malnutrition and of course obesity. Lets all join the high cholesterol club, go on Statins for life and let our teeth rot away from Cola drinks. Thank Cadbury's for chocolate, where would we be without it?

Yes, it's been a dull day. I'll saturate myself in boredom and indulge in some strong caffeine in the morning, not forgetting a doughnut. I'm sure to feel better then, I sure hope the sun comes out.

A trip to the Dentist

Yesterday, I went to the dentist. It was a morning check-up, but ended up in my having a filling and costing all of £45. I'm now OK for a year before returning. Heaven's knows how much it would of been to take a tooth out? Regardless I find the whole dental thing a nerve jangling experience and always have done. So have built up over the years a good relationship with my dentist because he's just good at dealing with nervous wrecks like me.

There are a number of strategies I employ when having a check up. Firstly, mouth opening. Now for some people who have big mouths this is easy. Theirs may retract and dislocate to open like a snake devouring it's latest victim. My mouth however just has a problem when opening. It's not that big. I find it difficult. Maybe it's something to do with not being a great talker like some. I don't know. But I do know I have to open my mouth as wide as I can for short periods, it's practice. Not to say my dentist wants to get his entire arm down there, as well as the pneumatic drill. No. All he wants to do is his dental thing. So a little jaw loosening is always a must. The next strategy is to relax. Relax as much as I can. Mr Dentist man usually tells me to breath through my nose. Well not having perfected the art of breathing through my arse this is pretty good advice. The problem can be when he's drilling away the smell of smoking charred enable is inhaled. Which can lead to a state of not-relaxed. Short breaths and my raising a hand or suddenly gagging and chocking. It's not panic just the necessity to breath. The next strategy is used by my dentist. He simply waits for very short moments to allow me to recover, then taps my shoulder and I open my mouth again. I continue breathing, this time through my nose and even try counting. Slowly with each exhale, 1, 2, 3....oops breath through nose 4, 5, 6.... and so on. Having a good dental nurse helps, as the careful placement of the sucking device ensures excess liquids are vacuumed up, rather than my chocking because it's been poorly positioned.

Then after a few words, and a thanks I see the receptions and pay the bill. Teeth, what can you do without them? Suck eggs I suppose.

A Curve Ball

To take an American expression, unfortunately, some days the unexpected happens. In effect a Curve Ball is thrown. This is a thing, anything which might not of been predicted but causes an inconvenience, or discomfort. This morning I walked a slightly longer route to the train station because I thought I needed the exercise. As I approached the station, rather than see people enter they were leaving. I knew immediately something was up. This knowing didn't stop me from continuing to walk into the Station. I needed verification for my self. It came in the form of a Curve Ball. Yes, there had been a power cut on this line into London. It happens on a monthly basis. The consequence meant queing up for a bus. Then a bus came within a very short while. Unluckily it continued to travel past the stop, packed full of Sardines, they had emigrated from Sardine in Train to Sardine on Bus. Must of been something to do with the Olive Oil. I walked a mile to a different bus stop and got more than the exercise anticipated.

On another morning not long after returning from a wonderful visit to see Sparkling Eyes I suffered from an attack of Dandruff. It was bad. Big blooming flakes which wanted desperately to be part of an early Christmas. I had contemplated writing an entire blog about this experience, however, the response when I told Sparkling Eyes was one of "Yuk!" This discouraged me from putting it into writing. At the time. I coped with the dandruff attack by having yet another hair washing, running round a tree half naked, and singing a verse from the Sound of Music. I had it on good report this was the in Vogue method of fighting dandruff. Either this or bath in Asp milk. As there are few Asps about now days I ran round the tree instead and added a verse or two castigating Cleopatra.

It's nice to have a problem free day, but they don't happen. As Sparkling constantly reminds me I don't have problems she has problems, and she then goes on to trade me what her problems are, putting them in the context of my lunch time Salsa. As if I am in an entirely different world when I am not.

My next Curve Ball I now sit and wait for. Tomorrow morning I have a dental appointment. It came at short notice. I say this because usually it takes about 2 weeks to get an appointment set up. Instead it took only 2 days and has meant I really haven't had much time practicing opening my mouth for long periods. So I expect after the dentist I'll not be able to move my jaw the rest of the day. Let alone something be found which needs fixing. Like the hole in my head.

Another fine day

A Dull overcast sky dictated this morning. Today is the day before tomorrow. Tomorrow is a birthday anniversary. As per normal I get to feel depressed, it's to do with birthdays. And in part it's better if no one celebrates it. A bit like having a leg broken. It's not a thing to celebrate. But some people do like their special days celebrated, and other's like to remind me of mine, and if they are sincerely happy I get emotional. Blue, like time has stood still for a moment and I sit in the emotional sands of self pity. Someone kick me, hard in the butt. Maybe a little pain will wake me up. Then kick me again till I cry out and eat your head off. Then I'll feel better. Nothing like a little argument to get the arteries flowing.

Some pressies sit waiting to be opened. I'll attend them tomorrow. I could do with a hug from Sparkling to tell her how much I miss her.

Another thing I groan about is the Australian optometrist, because I'm sure his testing wasn't up to standard. There were certain tests he didn't do. So now I'm stewing in a mood. Feeling I need to see Australia lose some more at any athletic event on the cards. I wonder if they are any good at pork pie throwing. I doubt it. Pork pies probably go off down-under. On account of it being so hot. They probably have kangaroo pies instead.

Yep I can tell. I'll be in a downright ugly mood tomorrow morning. Crash helmet, ear plugs, bovver boots, flak jacket and some sour sweets. Then I'll be fine. It's only once a year. Once too often. Maybe even drug myself so I don't get up tomorrow. Just sleep through the entire day. At least it will stop me from murdering someone. Murdering anyone. I'm not fussy.

An Australian Optometrist and the Fiat Design

Having now actually done a little golf and found the ball gets easily lost when I took my eye off it, this signaled it was time to get an eye test. So this afternoon I had one, the last took place 8 years ago. There is always a dominant eye, mines the left. In long distances I use the left, however in very short distances I use the right. Today I found there had been a change, not a great deal but enough I'd notice. The optometrist thought little of the change and said my present specs were OK. Though they are old and give me a head ache once in a while. He was Australian, I could tell from the accent. He talked a little about sport, his wife and general chit chat. In fact he chatted perhaps too much. Like he was in need of stimulation or was telling me something about eyes which I didn't know about.

Sparkling has got the Flu and told me it's my fault. I asked her whether it was "woman's flu" she said yes, the real flu. I'm sure it is related to her having to fix her wiper blade when it rains, because it has now stopped working. Something to do with a nut and bolt. It seems to be a common failure on Fiat Uno's. In fact it's a nice little gimmick for Fiat to earn a continuous supply of income because it is a design fault. It does make you wonder if design faults are intentional by manufacturers. One thing for sure, if the Fiat designer was in Sparkling's vicinity she'd take great delight in breathing all over him. See how he'd cope with stopping the car in torrential rain to fiddle under the bonnet with his high heals and curly hair. Yes, what a sight it would be.

OUCH my head

Sometimes lessons repeat themselves. Like patience, waiting for a bus when impatience has the better of me. This morning I re learnt the power of the hangover. Spinning room, cold swet, shaking, the inevitable toilet rush and involuntary puke, and wonder whether I am dying. Sparkling Eyes was fine. I asked her several times if she was OK. She was. No problem for Sparkling. I lay there thinking I had pneumonia, in the meantime Sparkling was having fun. Poking fun at me. Remarking how I had a clammy cold swet, asking if the room was spinning and then telling me it was my own fault. It was. Memo to self, don't mix Murphys with Rose wine, they tend to curdle. I cough and spatter, what am I coming down with now? Possibly some illness passed on to me by Rock Chick when she breathed in my direction, a memento for helping with her maths homework. I hate hangovers.

Rock Chick is growing up. So I've hardly seen her this week, except for the maths. She goes around wearing cowboy shirts. I asked her if she has a stetson and boots. But for some reason I don't think she will go into Line Dancing. Unless it means she can breath germs over unsuspecting persons. Not seeing her also means I've not had a chance to wind her up. But I must of at some point at least twice she threatened to hit me or throw something at me. So my annoying charm works. When I go back to London I'll try it out on Monster Boy, he might be 7 but I'm sure it will work.

Storm warnings have swept the country. Morpeth one of the stations the train travels through. It's been hit bad by flood waters. I suppose it's a bit like a wave of involuntary puke hitting you. You can't help the weather or the effects of over intoxication, but they are sure to come if you carry on drinking or it carries on raining. Getting drunk can be your own fault, in the company of Sparkling Eyes it was bound to happen. Hell of a good night though. We danced in the kitchen. I tried to Salsa as best I could. And lets not forget the Isley Brothers and Harvest for the World. I heard it twice. Sparkling loves it and the moment it comes on the CD player is an important point. I smiled inside, Sparkling is a great dancer, a natural. She can't Salsa as good as me. Well, we all got to be good at something. Twenty hours later and my head is still killing me. Yes a lesson re learnt. Some one hit me. Yes they did, OUCH.

In Search of a Cooker

Today Sparkling Eyes got a new cooker on order. The old one a Zanussi which had the appliance of science, broke. To put it bluntly the door fell off. Mind it was a good few years old. Aliens will be coming Tuesday next week to pick up the Zanussi while the men from Kenwood will deliver the new one. Very nice it looks as well.

I over hear the radio while typing. A man had pulled out a weapon (gun) from his pocket and tried to rob the local bank. Well I hope they meant a gun and nothing else pulled from his pocket. Apparently he drove off in his dark coloured four by four. The description vaguely matches L&B man. The potential robber was described as being in his 40s and wearing a dark leather coat. It can't be L&B. Last time we chatted he was talking about putting up a bird table and mentioned nothing about doing over the bank. Unless he's been upset lately, well I know Scotland will be playing footy soon and their scoring record don't inspire much.

Poor Rock Chick has to go and work at the local fast food burger joint. I feel sorry for her. However, as she returned from school and sat on the pouffe she did swear at me, using the F-word a couple of times. Rock warned me it was the wrong time of the month she was PMSing. What is it about women wanting to throw shoes at me, batter me, or some how deprive me of my assets with nothing but a smile. I gave a short dialogue about what it was like when I was a kid, and what matters is money. She could of killed me. I retreated to a safe distance.

The world is so unfair when people find they have to do things they hate just to make a living. Early days yet for Rock Chick. Maybe I'll just hide her shoes away. Though fortunately for me I haven't driven Sparkling Eyes to the point of exasperation where she give me the Stare. The stare which says "one more word out of your and your dead" well only once. But it was a combined Stare and Finger point. The sacred index finger jab and stare. Passed down from generation to generation of female. Used at time of extreme male stupidity. But what would seem to any male as not being stupid. Best I not go into it. Our brains are different. We think about different things. I'd like to say more important things, but it would be very stupid to say such a thing.

Well off to sit in the company of L&B man and family. I wonder if he has a spare ski mask and any tips.

Golf at Piperdam and a reminder of Salsa

For the first time in my life I did a full round of golf, at the Piperdam course. And just in case anyone didn't know, GOLF stands for Gents Only Ladies Forbidden. Such a nice saying some might acknowledge. I was accompanied by Mr Tall Accountant Man or TAM for short. Though TAM had said he wasn't on form, being he'd not had the time to play over the last 6 months. He still was a pretty impressive hitter. At one time he used to play 3 times a week. Whilst 3 times a year would be a good thing for me.

We could not have chosen a better day. It began with a mild chill, but the sky was clear and within minutes sun beams warmed us up. The country side of Dundee is beautiful, fields of various colour spoke stories of different farming choices. To play golf in such countryside is wonderful. Walking 18 holes however is tough going. Fortunately I'd hired out a golf bag trolley to take the strain.

The first hole is over a lake. It's all or nothing. Needless to say I lost a ball in the water and walked around to where it might have landed had it gone on land. They asked for 3 and I did it in 5. This was good for me. I was surprised on one hole to find 4 little spectators at my heels. They were so quite as well and so supportive. A bit feathery, but heck when you got fans it don't matter what species they are. The ducks stood inches behind me as I watched TAM T-Off. Then I had to chase them away before my go. It's OK having fans but I didn't want stalkers. Unless these ones came with a nice orange sauce. By the tenth or was it twelfth hole I began to tire. Losing half a dozen balls to the wild. Never to be seen again. I became quite thankful just hitting the ball and seeing where it went. Except for a few holes most seemed to be on inclines. I also found hitting a ball while standing on a hill is a lot more difficult than hitting it while at the range. Three and a half hours later we had finished and I had nearly collapsed. It had taken 148 strokes, 6 lost balls and an entourage of 4 ducks to complete it.

Sparkling Eyes had toyed with me before the golf. Saying I would be required to help her post some community leaflets. She's out for the moment at a meeting. I hope she'll forget about the leafleting tonight, even if it means giving her an extra long foot massage. Though I could do with one myself. Last night Sparkling reminded me of my Salsa dancing. It was the tongue thing, going to the left then to the right. Mr L&B had apparently said "no wonder the old girls liked dancing with him, put that tongue back!" I shrugged trying desperately to shake of the comment off but it keeps hitting me back in the face. She thinks I should look at myself in a mirror because I'm just to stiff.

Rock Chick has hardly been around the last few days. She seems to be out most nights. Coming in late one night, Sparkling indicated Rock Chick would be grumpy in the morning before school. Rock Chick's reply was "well don't talk to me, I'll walk." I daren't say a thing to her at this time saying she was moody would be under estimating her demeanour. I wondered how parents are able to cope with teenagers. Drugs seem to be the ony answer I can come up with. It seems Rock Chick has got a memory problem also, because the next morning she asked for a lift to school and said Sparkling had promised to give her one. This promise was not made in my ear shot. I did suggest to Sparkling she put Rock Chick up for adoption after Rock Chick had left for school. Just maybe she could be temporarily swopped. Maybe even a different species, I know of 4 very nice ducks.

Suck my bunion.

As always in the company of Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick anything can happen. It usually does. This evening the oven door broke to Sparkling's cooker. Whilst last night I showered myself in mouth wash, courtesy of Rock Chick not screwing the top on. Later on I found Rock Chick had removed all the strawberry sweets from the Opal Fruits. Great. Not to mention this morning I got a reprimand from Sparkling Eyes. And last night while at a little party the best offer of the year came when I was asked to "suck my bunion" you had to be there. Unfortunately this did nothing to my senses and I had to refuse. It happens. I know I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but sometimes you just have to say No.

The last few days I've had the Micky taken out of me because of my Salsa dancing. Sparkling Eyes thinks I'm as stiff as a board and have no rhythm. Even though I say I'm black it has no noticeable effect. Whilst Mr L&B laughs and can't wait to drop a comment at any opportunity. Rock Chick has taken no interest at all. Unless it has something to do with hair. Dying hair, straightening hair, washing hair and boys. Boys. Boys. The hormones have kicked in, look out lads coz she's not going to take any prisoners. I learn life is complicated. I'm glad I was not born female, I expect females are also happy about that. Except maybe for the Salsa. To Salsa or not to Salsa that is the question. Give me a bunion any day.