Coconuts for the monkeys

Well it's been one hot day, one hell of a hot day, so hot I nearly thought I was no longer in London but some foreign land, where coconuts drop from trees, sometimes even on heads. Personally I make it an issue never to walk under a coconut tree, there just might be some monkeys up there, which reminds me of a short passage I read from a book called "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" a brilliant book by the way, but the kind of book a man would read. Because a woman would be put off by the title. However, there's very little in it about motorcycle maintenance, but the stuff the author writes is deep and meaningful. Back to the short passage I'm thinking of, which was about the way people get stuck in a certain frame of mind. In South India, I think it was, there is a trap they set to catch monkeys. It's quite simple but effective. They get a coconut and make a hole in it at both ends. One end is tied to a steak in the ground the other end the hole is big enough for a monkey to slide it's hand in. They then put in the coconut rice, which apparently these monkeys like. The monkey comes along and puts a hand into the nut to get the rice. As they grab the rice and then try to pull their hand out it gets stuck. No matter how hard the monkey tries it just can't pull it's hand out. It is trapped. The reason is because once they have formed a fist of rice their hand is bigger than the hole it slipped into when empty. The monkey does not realise this and can not consider it should drop the rice in order to escape, so is caught. How on earth I started a blog on this little story I don't know, especially when I was rambling on about how hot it is in London. Well it's hot, and I've not seen many monkeys around either.

Sparkling sent me a message today telling me how she reached over to find I was not there and had to acclimatise all over again. Last night getting to sleep was difficult, not because of the gentle purring noise Sparkling makes when she snores but because it was hot. Although given the choice between purring and heat, I'd take the purring anytime. Physical contact of someone you love is an amazing thing. Not waking up next to Sparkling and knowing I will not now for a number of weeks can be disheartening, but every single moment I do have in her company is the most wonderful thing. We bicker all the time constantly, sometimes even havng a big argument but not too often and just enough to clear the air. Most of the time though Sparkling enjoys laughing at me and trying to imitate my accent which I say she is not so good at. This however does not discourage her from doing it again over and over to people she meets or knows. I try on a Scot's accent but am diabolical so usually don't bother. In everyday actions I do Sparkling will burst out into laughter for no apparent reason, then tell me what I have done. This makes me happy as well, I think of Sparkling and a smile appears on my face, therefore she must do something to me even in my thoughts. Although I must admit to not having a argument in my thoughts just wacky memories. I've heard it said when you forget something the memory monkeys drop down out of the trees and run off with your lost thoughts. Bloody things.

Moral of the story, always carry a coconut and rice because you never know when a naughty monkey needs to be put in place.

You just can't trust the news

The train back to London seemed faster than the train going to Scotland. After Newcastle I noticed the temperature start to rise, but it was only as we hit London I felt it. It's like an oven door has been left open in the kitchen, you walk in there and get hit by the heat. London is just like this at the moment. Tomorrow's temperature is predicted at 31 Celsius. Too hot. Unless you happen to be a Chili. Seeing as I'm not a chili it is too hot.

Saw a great match on at Wimbledon Andy Murry verse some Swedish fella Stanislas Wawrinka I think. For over four hours I sat and watched. Just couldn't take my eyes of the box, it was so close, probably because each already knew the other's game. They being playing partners. When I watched the news afterwards I listened to the description of play and thought whoever wrote the news item was watching a different game from me, or they were just poor writer's. Too many inappropriate similes and metaphors to say the least. It makes you think how on earth do people who write news items get their jobs. It was supposed to be the BBC which is meant to be without bias. Don't matter, I'll view the news differently in future. Facts delivered can be wrong unless you hear them from the horses mouth.

A bit like The Micky Jackson death. I heard from one source he had a stroke and died in a children's ward. Great, a suspected pedophile being let into a children's ward. I say suspect, but then who pays someone 10 million dollars in cash to keep their mouth shut unless there is good reason. Very good reason. To some extent it's as though the world has overlooked his sexual preferences because his music was liked. What about Garry Glitter then? If someone has great music does this mean they should be let off their crimes? Me thinks not, but then I seem to be in the minority group here.

To the fish factory tomorrow, and a boring different view of the world. Sparkling I'll be thinking of you.

Off on a train

Off back London from Scotland tomorrow. Where there will be a temperature change of about ten degrees Celsius. But worse of all another period without Sparkling and Rock Chick and the rest of the gang in my life. However, all the better for the wonderful moments which have been imprinted on my mind. Except should I say for being poked by Rock when I had severe sun burn. I have the scars to prove it. I've probably put on about ten pounds in weight so the gym will be given more punishment when I next hit it. Lucky machines. Jeans are tighter and a bigger shadow now looms over my shoes, but I'm sure they don't mind being kept out of the rain.

Did a little golf practice on a range today. Sparkling watched and then laughed as I took a swing and let off a fart. It must be too much beer, it creates a lot of gas. Don't matter, from tomorrow I'll be completely teetotal. Sparkling says she can get fitter than me between now and the next time I am up. I've just got to resist the bacon sandwiches. Hmmmm. Not forgetting biscuits, crisps, chocolate and lasagna. I'll doze off on the train and sleep, then dream of the moments when Sparkling pulled me along by my ears believing I'd get some broccoli for dinner, only to find I didn't. OK eating healthy is difficult, I'll just have to put my mind to it.

OK off now. Scotland is a great place, and the people are even better.

NO!!! I am not a murderer

Well it's as if the fish have got something against me, whether it's fresh water or sea food. I'd made some spicy prawns for Sparkling last night and overall the meal was delicious. I had commented I wasn't sure if the prawns were done properly. However, Sparkling said "no, they are fine" so I said no more. Sparkling drank her wine and I the beer, it just went down nicely. Sparkling enjoyed sitting watching the box while I ran about in the kitchen. I wrote my last blog and all was well. A few hours passed and still all was fine. I then popped upstairs and as if on Que I heard Sparkling run to the kitchen. Then a cough followed by a retch. It didn't sound good. I came downstairs to find Sparkling had puked up her entire dinner. She cast an eye in my direction and said "you murderer, you." She then sat down and we watched some more TV, but it didn't last long she had to go to bed. I stayed downstairs while listening to the scamper of feet to the toilet and more coughing. I felt a little guilty, but not entirely because I'd eaten the prawns and there was no effect on me. Nothing. Even Rock Chick ate some prawns and no effect.

I couldn't touch Sparkling because she said her stomach was bubbling. I said I was sorry. She called me a murderer a few times, then asked if I had ever seen her be sick before. "no, I never have" I replied. For she hadn't vomited in the last 15 years. Rock Chick was concerned, she asked her mum how she was. The reply was predictable,
"Crazyfirdayman tried to murder me" she said.
Two people now think I'm a murderer. In the morning I bumped into Rock Chick and she asked me outright:
"did you try to murder my mum?" my reply was instant
"no I didn't, she's not worth it.... I'm worth a lot more dead." As if to justify myself.
"ooooh" Rock said, then after a moment "I'm going to tell mum."

It's not looking good, I've been put in the frame by a prawn. Of all things a prawn is going to get me put in the electric seat. I told Sparkling I had eaten the prawns as well, and I had with no reaction. Further Rock Chick had eaten the prawns. It wasn't good enough. She thought well it was the odd prawn on the outskirts of the pan which didn't get stirred. I was told it was my fault, because I had left them in the pan and hadn't moved them about. I had cooked unsupervised, as if I couldn't be left alone while in the kitchen. The accused stands before you of murder, I could hear the voice bellowing out in my head. Personally I think it is some kind of fishy conspiracy which has been a shadow over me the past few days. Fishy revenge is what I call it. Be aware, be very aware.

I keep my eyes cast down and try not to catch Sparkling or Rock Chick's attention. After all a murderer should keep a low profile. No!!! I am not a murderer.

In the meantime it has been raining, this means the grass can't be cut and it would be silly to try and wash the car, let alone wax it. Now if only I'd had a puke as well. So I'm stuck inside, being reminded constantly of my cooking abilities. I'll put them on the shelve for now and stick to eating. After all how is a fat man to stay fat if he doesn't keep his energy up?

Busy, busy, busy!

Sparkling had a little job for me. It wouldn't take long. Or so I thought. It was the trees, they were over grown and needed a trim, I was the chosen trimmer. L & B man loaned me the use of an electric-saw-cutting-thing which weighs a ton. Then I had to get loan of some loppers from the neighbours and so the task began. I've cut, chopped, severed, hacked, ripped, sliced and thoroughly trimmed them. Now they look very nice. It was part of my duties, I stepped up to the plate and did it.

The grass needs another going over. The car could do with a wash and a waxing, because one of Sparkling's feathered friends has chosen to use it as poop target practice. There are still a load of leaves left from lopping to be cleared up, although I said the sun would dry them out then the wind would blow them away, I'm not sure Sparkling has accepted this explanation of why they should not be swept up. The cat is pulling his hair out like it is a new fashion. Birds swoop down and congregate on the roofs of houses, I noticed this while doing the grass for the first time. There must of been about thirty crows watching. A Hitchcock film came to mind at the time. Crows are carnivores, but none have been in the news lately for attacking a fat man doing the lawn. But so far one of the pains in my backside has been the lack of a mirror in the bathroom, if I carry on guessing where the shaving foam is I'm going to cut my throat. Then knowing my luck the birds will swoop down through the window to finish the job, I'll be covered over in loose leaves from the lopped trees and the cat will pull half his fur out because I'm not around to put some biscuits in his bowl.

Rock Chick has been mean to me, she had been walking about all day in a pair of sweaty shoes, then from no where stuck them close to my face. So close I could not avoid the whiff. Is this the actions of a normal person or is it the actions of someone who has a perverse streak. Which I know is inherited. But as Sparkling says to me, I keep coming back so I must like it. I made dinner this evening and knowing how Sparkling loves spicy food did some hot prawns. I was a little worried I had not cooked them through properly but it's now been about four hours and none of us has puked so they must of been OK. L & B man has told me my taste in T-shirts is gay and I should of known it. Grand coming from a man who walks about in tight sequined spattered T-shirts himself. And I got things to worry about?

Fish bight back

I never thought it would happen but the fish fought back. They showed who was king. And they didn't do it in a loud brash way, theirs was the way of the fish, it was subtle, slow and long lasting revenge. I feel it now, and have felt it ever since I left their domain. A venture under normal circumstances would of been productive for me and L & B man. It was his idea by the way. He said "lets go fishing" so we did. But we were not to know of their nefarious plan, simple and effective. We sat there with our rods, with some magical bait, which had been made by a Witch's Coven. Bait know for it's reliability, except for this day. For this day they had already made a pact with the Lord of Restraint. For six hours we waited. Caste out our lines, and even glimpsed the odd trout jump in the air wave at us and invite us to catch him. It was a sour invitation. Not to mention hot. Very hot.

For six hours a bright and beautiful sun shone down. Followed by a cooling breeze, although cool it was deceiving for it was as though the sun was only there for convenience. However it was not. Six hours of sun on a pale body takes an effect. One which lasts. Lobster comes to mind, oh yes a seafood with a pinkish red colour when cooked. This is the colour of my lower legs. Courtesy of shorts. Well when I started out I thought of trout being gutted, hmm and it's lovely taste when cooked from fresh. Lemon and herbs, not even considering how soft and flaky the flesh would be. It didn't happen. Nope. Note a bite, I thing there may have been the odd nibble but nothing else, not even a tuck where the rod is pulled back and forth and I shout out "it be Moby Dick," the great white whale did not appear. Nor did the trout. There was no struggle, no sport, just my gentle and slow roasting in the sun with L & B man. We left disgruntled, disappointed and drowned our sorrows in a pint.

The next two days have been murder. Rock Chick with her mean sense of humour took delight in poking me with her sharpened talons right on a sore red arm. I screamed in agony, a number of times. I think she had her nails done just for such an occasion. Shame on you Rock Chick. In the meantime psychological warfare was rained down upon me by Sparkling Eyes. As my red legs, arms and "v" shape around my neck wore on they got hotter and hotter. She said it would not surprise her if I were to self combust. Like the pictures you can see in those mystery magazines from the 1950s of some poor soul who has disappeared in ash. Except for an arm or leg. My reply was I'd wait till she slept and then self combust. See if she could get away quick enough after I'm up in flames. Or a smoldering ash, all because the fishes weren't biting. So every few hours I been piling on the after sun cream to calm down the shiny red skin. I'm not sure if it has made things worse, but I been hot, very hot, very red, and in pain. But as usual I learn my lesson. Don't seek sympathy from Sparkling or Rock Chick because they will not give it. They will use every means they have to take advantage of any disadvantage I have.

Fortunately I can keep my cool. I needed to when I was put under pressure for losing a set of keys, when I hadn't actually lost. I didn't mind except for the fact I was multi tasking at the time and had three disposable barbecues on the go. The keys turned up, they were six inches away from where Sparkling was looking. L & B man had seen them, thanks for the macho bond men can have when put against the fiendish cross examination of a woman. Then as I tested a chicken wing to see how it tasted, it was done perfectly, absolutely delicious. The wings went on a plate and guests helped themselves. Then shouts came back to me. One of the guests accused me of trying to kill them, there was red uncooked meat in a chicken wing. Damn it wasn't in mine, they were fine, honest.

Later on my tooth cracked, out dropped a gold inlay. My dentist is 460 miles away. For the time being it will have to look after itself. I now eat on the left hand side of my palate, and hope the remaining tooth takes no offence and stays calm before my appointment, which happens to be at a lunch time and will probably mean I'll not be able to eat for a few hours. I can just about deal with the pain of sun burn, thanks to the fishes who didn't bite. Nasty little things. Oh well at least I got my sense of humour. As for the fishes, look out because I got my eye on you and you owe me some delicious trout.

Preparing for a trek

Tomorrow I travel to Scotland. The trip from London will take about 8 hours; going into London, tube and then train will take just over an hour. When my train comes up on the display board I'll embark and settle down. I been making a list of things to take, unlike my normal just pack and go and hope everything is in the bag. A list is useful because it is so easy to forget and the little things are easily overlooked. For a few days life will be in Sparkling's land. I better get a good night's sleep. Make sure the list is complete and check the tickets. Always a good thing to do.

I chuckle over the memory of Sparkling attending a Star Trek movie the last time I saw her. Particularly because it was a tortuous event in her eyes. However, she did keep to her word, except for the fidgeting, yawning and snack food eating during the playing. Unfortunately these actions had no effect because I was too engrossed in the film and I was enjoying it fully. It's amazing how things can be shut out when your attention is drawn away to something else. The film was good, but Sparkling's reactions were the topping to a cake. I'll just make sure I do some extra foot rubbing, with care. As recently she just sprained her ankle and it's gone black and blue. Well at least it will mean she can't kick me up the backside. For the first few days anyway.

Pooh the wise bear

I picked up a book this morning before going to work. It's called the Toa of Pooh, and in easy terms it sets out to describe Taoism. In comparison to Buddhism, Taoism is barely mentioned today in Eastern religeons. In the first chapter it describes a picture called the Vinegar Tasters. Where three wise old men representing three different eastern religeons or ways of living, (I say this because Toaism is more of a way of life than a religeon as such) stand and each having put a finger in the wine vat and sucked it have a different expression on their face. One has the typical sour look (Confucius), another bitter (Buddha) and the last representing Toaism has a smile (Loa Tze). The author then goes on to describe to Pooh the meaning of the picture and why Pooh is such a good character to use also in describing Taoism.

It's odd but in reading this chapter it plays side by side with something I been thinking about on and off. The view of human nature playing out quite naturally the way it does, it is all predictable and expected. Even actions other's may not think are predictable they are when you look closely at them. When you take it from the view point of the actor rather than the observer. At which you can only smile. For if three wise persons, whether male or female or of any mixed religious persuasions were to actually examine the taste of vinegar I'm sure they would all have a sour face. But the picture described was allegorical rather than factual. The thing is, vinegar will always taste sour and like vinegar and nothing else. It is, as it should be and not nectar. So knowing this, and knowing the taste will be sour you can either react with a sour face or actually smile. Because it tastes as it should taste. This is the funny side and what makes me laugh.

Pooh is unquestionably one of the most lovable characters ever in Children's literature. And what does he have which I find so comforting? A nice small rounded pot belly. It's amazing, no wonder I'm smiling.

Happiness is giving way to temptation

As each day passes and Sunday comes closer, I find myself becoming more and more excited about seeing Sparkling and Rock Chick. Spontaneously I smile. I sit wondering what feat of DIY will be in store when L & B man sees me. Then I consider whether Rock Chick will be in one of her moods and if I by some unknown magic of foot in mouth disease am going to get my just deserts. Which is so easy to do with a teenager, their hormones are so crazy there should be some kind of pill you could give them. Then I consider Sparkling's wonderful smile and so happy sparkly eyes and how much she is the best thing since sliced bread. I'll be on call for constant foot massages, back rubs and any thing Sparkling thinks I should be doing. After all this is my duty and should I forget it I am reminded. Finally, lets not forget the cat, putting him out and feeding him on demand in the morning, because he says it's time. While Sparkling gets some extra shut eye.

One way to meet the demands put upon me is to keep up with going to the gym. Running on the treadmill this evening I noticed how it was easier to recover my breathing when finished. Even though I am still chunky, and my belly is six inches in front of me, which means it would pass a finishing tape before I do, things are improving breathing wise. Having a touch of asthma can make life difficult at times, so exercising is very important. Even going for a long walk, in fact the reality is I should be doing some cardio exercise every day just for this reason. But it's always a bit harder when you get older. Decisions made years ago take their effect now. I should of never given up exercise in the first place, because within a few months I had began to gain weight. It don't take long and every single calories is counted. I try and get a few walks in when I see Sparkling. They help burn off the bacon and egg sandwiches, or lorn sausage. Then I wonder if I should become vegetarian. Mostly because vegetarians appear slimmer and healthier than the rest of us. Must be on account of all the vegetables the eat. I wonder if they fart a lot as well, because cows do and they eat nothing but grass, well most of the time.

Sparkling knows I have an addiction to food. Which she plays on. She leaves traps around the house for me. This is so unfair. She says all she has to do is sit and wait. Unfortunately it doesn't take long. I think it was Oscar Wilde who said "I can resist anything, except temptation," I wonder if he liked chocolate by chance because it's a biggy for me. In fact most food items are a biggy to tell the truth. Maybe it's all in Sparkling's big plan. To exercise off the extra food consumption she probably has it in mind I should be paying more attention to her feet. Or hoovering up, or doing something in the garden, but hopefully not killing or chopping things down which are real plants. As I found out last time I used the lawn mower. Well sometimes even plants look like weeds. Yes, maybe gardening isn't quite my area of specialty. Oh well better get back to the drawing board, an idea is bound to pop up. Chef perhaps. Hmmm. Chocolate chef I could be good at it to, providing I didn't eat the ingredients before cooking them.

An eight year old is a good teacher

I saw Monster boy today and he taught me not to play with an eight year old unless I am prepared to lose and the eight year old is allowed to make up the rules as he goes along. Of course this is a problem for me as an adult, however I am humble enough to realise I can't be a kid because he is the kid and I have to let him win at everything. Whether it is constantly pushing me off a low level balancing beam or being tackled when I have the football. Except his tackle isn't the normal kind of tackle, because it begins with a good hard kick in the ankle first then he gets the ball. In these circumstances I have discovered it's best just to let him have the ball but to run around after him as though I desperately want the ball myself. To which he laughs hysterically and says things of the like "come on fat boy bring it on." And there I was thinking small children should respect their elders and treat them with dignity. This obviously goes out the window when you're playing on their territory, then everything goes in the name of fun. All I can say is this is a wonderful lesson to learn and I enjoyed it as much as he did, it was great.

In a few days time I will be seeing Sparkling and Rock Chick again. I've been told there will be a jazz festival when I'm up, it will be fantastic. I can't wait to listen to some live music and get slowly drunk in the company of Sparkling. Rock Chick hits her seventeenth birthday and is more of seventeen going on thirty. Oh to be seventeen all over again. No, maybe not, to tell the truth I'm happier now than those many years ago, and happiness is a great place to be.

Bring me sunshine.....

My phone nearly electricuted me

It began with the receipt of a text message from Sparkling. Her MSN wasn't letting her message me for some reason, like it had suddenly taken a temperamental turn without any warning. The kind of thing females do, now and again. Anyway I thought well in the circumstances what I'll do is ring Sparkling up and then we can pass the time in a nice friendly chit chat. Although I didn't get put through to Sparkling straight away. Rock Chick answered the phone, being her usual self she wanted to get me passed onto Sparkling quickly. The best way to do this is to shout out, because Rock had answered it from upstairs. At this point the vocal strength of Rock Chick pretty much hit me. She used the ubiquitous call all children do whenever they need the attention of their parent, this one went along the lines of "MMMMMMMUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!" I am not kidding. I nearly dropped the phone and clutched my head, I could hear the echo reverberate inside. It didn't stop and it didn't do my tinnitus much good either. A few moments later the phone was picked up and Sparkling answered, which was very nice.

Earlier in the day I had sent a texted message to Sparkling about the weather, being due a thunderstorm which didn't appear. As we chatted I noticed how the room appeared to be getting darker. A lot darker. I was almost in pitch black. Then it began to rain. We chatted quite jovially as the rain got louder and now decided to become torrential. It didn't matter because I was inside and as usual I'm always happy when chatting to Sparkling, on account of there being times when she has refused to chat to me, telling me I'm her stalker. On one occasion I had to ring 3 different phone numbers and then I didn't chat to her. Can you believe it? It happened to be a friend of Rock Chick just picked the phone up and she was on her way out. She was quite nice, but it wasn't what I was expecting, because at this point even Rock Chick had decided not to talk to me. Later I learnt both Rock Chick and Sparkling were sitting there laughing their heads off because they knew it was me ringing. Blimey. There are times when it's just not good enough. I digress. Back to the rain.

So it was dogs and cats outside, bucketing down. Then it came. Somewhere in the distance there was a flash. It had barely lit up the room but had come from outside. Now it was thundering. There was an audible quake which also created a vibration. I'm sure Sparkling could not hear it, I had to tell her there were now thunderbolts. In a very short space of time the lightening got closer and closer. It was when a bolt must of hit only a few gardens away I nearly dropped the phone and said "ohwa" in a kind of startled frightened voice. I said to Sparkling the lightening was close now and I advised her I didn't want to carry on the conversation. However, Sparkling would not have otherwise, she wanted me to chat even longer on the phone, while the house was being bombarded with lightening. Now I am not a scardy cat but this was getting pretty close, and I'd heard about people getting electrocuted through their telephone, even how if you have a modem connection, a non wireless one, the electricity can run up into the computer and blow it up. I mean real damage here. I kept telling Sparkling "this is getting close" I said. "I'm going to get electrocuted," but she still wouldn't take my word for it. So she had to check it out on the Internet while I waited for the one bold which had my name on it. With fingers crossed, needless to say I got lucky. I don't know how but I managed to put the phone down as Sparkling laughed how silly I was. But I wasn't. I know I wasn't. I'm not scared as I said earlier. I think when there's a storm like this it makes you feel alive. Unless you happen to be on a phone and the Gods above are playing darts at who-can-hit-the-fat-man. All I can say is Zeus must of been having a bad day and lucky for me he was.

I think next time I ring Sparkling, I'll just re check the weather report and maybe give her a ring when there's an electrical storm in her neighbourhood. Yes, see how quickly she answers the phone.

Ode to the bathroom window

Yesterday I got married to the bathroom window. We were on pretty close terms, from 2 p.m. to about 10:30 p.m. Then I had to stop. I just couldn't go on, I was knackered (extremely fatigued) it had just about got the best of me and the fact the light had gone. Yes, we had seen the sun go down together. Me and the bathroom window.

I began earlier than 2 p.m. if truth be known. It's all to do in the preparation one might say. The borrowing of a ladder was key to this. Several years had passed and all I could do was gaze up at the window and do nothing, but now it had all become true. So up the ladder I went to have a quick butchers (butcher's hook = look) and then took note. I needed some putty in my hand to line the bottom edge. There was already a heat gun, however I further had to buy a detail sander. For all those fine little details a window has. The poor thing was in a bit of a two and eight (state) being all on it's Jack Jones (alone) it wanted the attention. So I did it. I stripped it down to the bare wood. It was slow going. Which was why it took so long. Inch by inch, the gloss came off. Afterwards I couldn't leave it bare for all the world to see. On account of the weather forecast being torrential thundercloud rain. Even though yesterday was magnificently sunny, I just couldn't leave it. So, I put on an undercoat, but I can't say for sure what it looks like because by this time it was dark, I just hope I covered it all, as best I could anyway.

The next day I woke up with aches all over my body. Especially on the right hand side. Being right handed this side had more of a work out than the left. I can see if I carry on like this I'd be the lopsided muscle man who spent his sunny days on a bathroom window.

I told Sparkling but she was fine. No need to worry. Until I next see her, which is not so far away now. Then no doubt she'll give me a brush and a tin of paint and say "make yourself useful fat boy." Oh life is tough. I wonder if I can buy onesided extra large shirts?

An interrupted, otherwise boring day

The day has been relatively quiet, to the extent of boring as I was doing overtime at the Fish Factory. Sparkling as usual likes to ask how my day has been, and the conversation then lasts all of 30 seconds if I am lucky while she then goes on to tell me about her's. However, boring is actually a nice thing, I like boring, at times. To break this tepid relativity of nothingness Sparkling comes along and starts to throw news in my direction.

Such as how she had just heard about someone with prostate problems. She then goes on to tell me they are the same age as me and although I counter with the argument about prostate issues seldom hit men of my age she then counters with recently learnt knowledge it does. And discusses how an ex nurse who used to work in the urology department had said this fact and the other fact. The result can be predictable if I let it, which is the beginning of a worrisome night's sleep. The kind where my fears have been played on. Fears which may have no foundation at all, whilst for Sparkling they provide humour. One moment I am tired and feeling I will get a good night's sleep, then after a conversation with Sparkling and her analysis of whether I am urinating OK I then start to have doubts. A moment or so later my eyes are wider, I'm sitting up and my head is buzzing when I should be considering sleep a deluge of thoughts spatters me and no umbrella is there to divert them away. Thanks Sparkling.

My next duty is to take on any worries Sparkling has, she tells me what they are and I put them on my back to make things better for her. The odd thing is when she does this I actually feel myself sink down into the chair. As though I really am getting heavier. In the meantime Sparkling tells me she is feeling lighter, so it must be working. Even if it is psychological, it works. For instance Sparkling told me about this drug she was taking and how she had just found out the effects of it were weight gain. So she will see her GP to try and change to a different one. Whilst my own weight gain is not down to any drugs at all which means I can't go to the quack. So am a fat man with nothing to blame it on except my own appetite. This Sparkling found quite amusing. I was then advised how eating a bean salad was likely to make me fart. Yes she was right, so now I'm burdened with worry, unable to sleep, fat and farting. No wonder I got no friends. Thank the world for cats, even flea bitten ones.

Chocolate had control of my mind

My legs are killing me, the muscles at the back of my thighs are as tight as boards. All because I missed out a session at the gym, and tried to make it up. Fool I say, fool. Never give up, never surrender.

After gym I went to Sainsburys, and from the shelves chocolate bars waved at me, they said "eat me fat boy, I know you want to" I stood in the chocolate and crisps ail vacillating. It was as though some weird mind control was taking place between my belly and the chocolate. I even went back twice to see the 2 for 1 offer on apple turnovers. The whole experience was dreadful. I had to keep thinking what I was there for because of these distractions. Then somehow, I don't know how, but I managed to get out of the shop without purchasing cakes, chocolate, biscuits or sweets. But I did get a large own brand bag of hoola hoop crisps and munched them on the bus. Consoling myself, it could of been worse, I might of been there eating a Mars bar from a pack of four going cheap at only £1, it was terrible. And even though just eating the hoops was bad enough in itself I dread the thought of walking past those shelves again. I need help.

I keep wondering if there are small exercises I can do constantly so as to burn up more calories. If only eating was an exercise. There's nothing I can think of, but I am now at war, war with my belly, war with all those devilish snacks, war against the desire for honey and nectar. Because of my weight I now sweat quicker than I used to, which means I can smell faster. I never used to be like this, never. When I was a skinny kid I barely swet at all. If I carry on at this rate I'll be going down to Halfords to get some of those dangly tree things and put one under each arm. One lemon, one lime. As Clint Eastwood said, "adapt, overcome, improvise" when his troops were going out to Grenada. I must overcome the belly. There's always a way, providing there's a will.

Now must try and cut out the savour biscuits. Damn carbs, what can you do?

The Autocrazy World

There stood the general, looking back back over his shoulder following behind were three officers. They were about to find privacy in a room to decide their plan. An imaginary battle in some place some land. I looked over and thought, those are the leaders and immediately knew the land of Fish Mongering was in trouble. Inside I let of a hysterical panic stricken laugh, asking myself how long will it be before this world crumbles. Internally going over the failings of officers who needed lessons in egg boiling, and still got it wrong.

In real life each citizen of the world looks on as head's of state take power. They are in most cases voted into office. This is the system of democracy we all know and endure. It is a guise for fairness under the banner of one person for one vote. However, in the real world of business this is not the case and autocrazy takes over. Once the Autocrazy head has got their position the cement is set. They then rule the roost for as long as they wish. There maybe instances when they relinquish their position, but the instances are few between. Perhaps by seeking advancement to a higher Autocrazy position in a different autocrazy, become ill, retiring or by tenure take succession to a higher place within the same autocrazy. Such is the world of real business. Oops nearly forgot, they can also be pushed off a cliff through a take over or downfall in the entire autocrazy. But of all things, they will ensure their nest is comfortable. They will speak up their perceived worth as though more important than royalty, for all purposes they have become blue blooded. Their high positioned view of the world is through rainbow coloured glasses. Then one day came along a small boy and said, "the emperor is in his altogether now" unfortunately the emporer still had his rainbow glasses on as well. And being somewhat obstinate of mind refused to hear a word. Three weeks later he caught a chill. Oh dear.

Bathroom scales

There was two things I had in mind to do this lunch time, one to buy some ear phones the other to get a set of bathroom scales. My shock from the dubious weigh-in at gym had got me to thinking. So at lunch time I went to Argos to get the scales. Nothing fancy I thought, because last time I got electronic ones which took a battery. After a year the battery ran out, then even with a new battery it failed to work. So I chose mechanical ones. Greener as well, not to mention cheaper in the long term.

Argos was a challenge at lunch time because of the shoppers just standing about waiting for their items whilst I was on a lunch break and each second ticking by was my lunch evaporated. The man behind the counter advised each customer after giving them their goods to check out the Argos web site. I heard it so many times, if he said it to me I was going to tell him I didn't have a computer. Not to mention give him a piece of my mind, considering how many people had pushed in front of me. Their queuing system is ridiculous. It's just pure luck. Unfortunately there was a big fat woman who was in front of where I should of been queuing and doing nothing, standing there with a vacant look. She was waiting for additional items when they had not turned up with her order. While I stood there with my ticket and a single item just fuming away, becoming very, very annoyed. My face must of shown it. I said nothing when my ticket was eventually taken and I was given the scales, the daggers of annoyance were in my eyes. I could of clobbered this man, even though I tried to keep it in my mind it wasn't his fault.

Being aware the result of a new weigh-in might not be so good probably didn't help. When I got back to the Fish Factory to put my flippers on the scales, I didn't overdo my lunch requirements. As if for some reason having a smaller lunch today would make my mass a little less. Just a single sandwich and a weight watchers yogurt from the fridge. Which I must say has a weird after taste; how people can eat weight watchers foods I don't know. I will not get them again. Only two more yogurts left for the next couple of days. For some reason they taste powdery, and the last think I need is additional carbohydrates.

Out of the box came the scales. I planted my feet on them and watched the needle swing. Then to my disappointment the realisation I was now an even fatter man came over me. I still didn't want to believe the scales, and even now part of me doesn't believe them, but they are new. They can not be wrong. I am heavier than I have ever been and it's going to take some time to shed what I've got. An imaged of a heart came to me from a recent advert on TV by the British Heart Foundation. It pumps away in the middle of the screen with an edging of fat at the top while statistics are spoken about heart disease. It's not good news. It's bad news. So when I went out tonight I took with me the four chocolate ripple bars I'd got cheap from Sainsburys and gave them to Little Monster Boy's mum. Not as a present, but because I'd eaten three bars yesterday and thought no wonder belly has now got me. Thing is I just like food it would be so much easier if I didn't. Don't matter, tomorrow is another day, I'll do a little extra at the gym and lay off crisps amongst other rather naughty food stuffs.

The world needs an important invention and I know what it is, the chocolate lettuce, with zero calories but great taste. OK any aspiring inventors out there?

Fat man stepping

Found out this evening at gym, rather than lose weight or kept stable, I've gained it. Unless the scales were wrong and I had a suspicion they could of been, because I hadn't seen the scales at gym for some weeks. And after all what are scales? Just a definitive measure of mass, in a certain time and place. It don't mean anything unless you're fat. So I take it the scales were faulty, and if this is the case then I will not give away how much I gained because I might not of gained it. However, I'm not happy, so am just taking it in my stride for now. Bloody lorn sausage, fried eggs and chocolate, though not all at the same time; is all I can say.

I woke up with a weird dream edging sideways into my consciousness. Somehow I was in the late 1970s and walking with a group of people down an alley way. They were all avoiding the cracks or the joins in the pavement. I thought it pretty odd behaviour. Unlike them I didn't care about stepping on the cracks or joins and each time I did, they would then recite an old saying. I forget what it was they were rhyming out. The next thing in my consciousness from this dream was a thought. It was along the lines of I have ten thousands steps to take then I must make a decision. It may have been an important decision, yet I didn't even know what the decision was I had to make. I can not interpret or guess what the dream was about, it was how my morning began.

Then when I got off the train and entered the Fish Factory I learnt I had forgotten my phone. Which meant sending a quick email to Sparkling. As if she'd have the time to text me anyway. But I just felt I had to let her know. Little was I to realise Sparkling was entertaining two firemen who were giving the house a safety check. So in a word she was busy.

A Caveman without hair

Did the hair thing today. I asked my Barber to make it look like I still got some left. So requested a number 3 trimmer. However, something happened. He seemed to get carried away, as he does. I came out looking like I'd had a number one. Sent a picture of it to Sparkling and she replied saying it looked like I was going really thin on top. Should I add there was a lol on her text. My Barber had an even shorter cut, but he didn't shave it he told me. So there was this thin layer of bristle all over his head. He still looked like a skin head to me. And although I said it looked cool, I wasn't sure if he understood. Cool as in not hot, not cool as in fashionable. This is probably on account of English being his second language. Before he just looked like an ordinary respectable bloke, now he had even dressed to match the skin head hair cut. He asked me whether I had recognised him. I said I had, but he did look a lot different. He seemed chuffed to think he looked like someone else rather than his usual self. Maybe he was going for the same look with me. All I know is Sparkling laughed at the picture I sent. The lol was a clue. Especially as she repeated it at least 3 times. Damn don't matter what I do I can't get away with aging.

I've had the day off work and spent some time checking out DIY videos on YouTube. I got to thinking these builder types who charge an arm and a leg for work are charging for something a competent person could at least try and possibly succeed in doing. What they have is practice. Whereas I don't. They also have years of knowledge, and skills. Which they would have developed over the years. But, I used to think my own vocation as Fish Factory pencil sharpener was not much of a skill. Then realised as I watched these videos, I do have skills. Pencil sharpening is a skill. Although my skills are not as physical as theirs, the work I do they wouldn't get anywhere near learning to do in a few months. To be any good it would take a few years. Whilst checking out some dry walling, I thought, it's not as difficult as I'd of thought. The only thing is these building types are pretty lucky their skills are kept hidden almost. Kept in house, by the very type of persons who do them. They close the shop. So to say. Because to be in the building game you have to have a different mentality. As a colleague of mine at the Fish Factory said, they are neanderthals. He used to be a foreman on a building site. He said nice people there wouldn't get on, they'd become victims of thugs. You know what though? I bet a conscientious and intelligent builder would probably do a better job all round than some of the cave men. Only thing is, he'd have to remember to take his club into work.

Catching up with the Monster

I just read an article which stated "five minutes of writing a day is better than two hours at the weekend" which reminded me of my favourite saying. (How do you eat an elephant? A little bit at a time). It then struck me how few blogs I had done lately and the value of keeping them updated. No matter what my thoughts are, they are important in the creative process. But of course during a 24 hour period things happen and they are instantly forgotten regardless of how newsworthy they may be. So the lesson is, even writing today about things which have happened during the week is a loss. It has got to be done at the time, otherwise it's gone. Gone into the great creative ethereal mist in the sky, the one which stands on the outskirts of every writers consciousness when they have hit the wall of "writer's block." Though I have heard it say some people don't believe such a thing exists. It does. However there are exercises for getting out of it, there is in a sense a recovery program. Though I expect it is a lot easier to recover than an alcoholic or drug addict, because writer's block doesn't mean you are drunk or stoned. Even if some would say being stoned and drunk is a good way to get inspiration. I think I'll just leave my coat on the hook and not take this any further before it gets out of hand. Like a rolling snow ball, so to say.

Just to mention how little Monster Boy managed to take me to the edge of exhaustion a few days ago. After a long and tedious day at the Fish Factory, where boredom is given a new depth, one which plunges deep into the reserves of even the most buoyant of persons. I decided to check up on the little rascal to see if he'd like to go out for a walk. Earlier I had promised to see him because he wanted me to sit and chat about Marvel superheros, of course. They are the only thing which matters to him and so they should be for an 8 year old. However, he decided it wasn't Marvel characters he was interested in. It was a nice walk to the park. Although there are a number of play areas locally, he wanted to walk to the one furthest away. The thought of walking a mile down the road on my mind was like a stone being dropped into a pond. I sank. Unfortunately I was under an obligation to him. I said to him it wasn't a good idea because the gangs could be out. But he didn't heed any of my concerns, he just wanted to go there. Apparently he had been cooped up all day in the company of his nan or his mum and neither had sort to wear his batteries out. So rather reluctantly I agreed, but said we had to be quick because it was getting late. He enjoyed it. His laughter was complete and so joyful it made me happy walking there. I stayed as long as I thought was enough, even though Monster wanted more time and we headed back home. I dropped him off and was exhausted.

It's amazing though what you will do for children even when you're not up to it. I sure hope one day in his future life he remembers it and takes me out when I'm in my wheelchair and needing some air.

Painting a window

To my disadvantage I've realised it takes a lot of time to paint a window. Especially when you have to start from scratch. Burning the old paint off, adding the primer and then waiting for the right weather so the top coat can be done. My painting skills are not brilliant but the window looks good. In fact it is a blooming work or brilliant white art. Except for the odd insect which had decided to crawl over it while it was still tacky. Not to mention the occasional dark black bristle left embedded between the paint and the wood. Oh yes, and this evening after spending half an hour with a scraper scarping off the excess paint which ended up on the window and putty, I've now come to the conclusion it's going to need touching up. Just a little. So as to ensure the putty is resealed against future rain and it still shows as a brilliant white in places where it could do with just the little extra. In reality I should of put two coats of primer on top. Now reading the paint tin it indicates the paint will be good for another 5 years. With luck I expect it really means 10 years. All what is left now is two more windows and a fascia board at the front of the house. Unfortunately all these require the use of a ladder. So I might try and rope in the efforts of Long haired layabout boy. He doesn't know it yet. But he will when I'm about to get started.

It's amazing what you can learn though from doing something manual. A bit like the learning curve for putting in a bath. Manual things take time and effort. The co-ordination of mind and muscle. Or in my case mostly mind. But with perseverance they are things most people can actually get round to doing. Providing they have the inclination, patience and ability. Some people just don't have the ability because of age or some other unfortunate illness. However, if you can then you should. There's not a great many things which can go wrong with painting a window, except for breaking the window. But then if you're careful this isn't really so much an issue as the weather. Not forgetting the exercise. Being active nowadays is something we are all being told to do, finding reasons to be active for is the best way to combat fat gut syndrome. Except when you already have a fat gut then there's a lot more to it. Then unfortunately it's nothing like painting a window.