Con artists don't cut hair they make phone calls instead

There is a question I'd like to ask my hair dresser but am a little warey. It is: is there any other style of hair cut you can give me? This is because every time I see him, I ask for a number 3, which is the length of the trimmer thingy and by the time he has finished and I walk out it ends up as a number 1, almost bald hair cut. I've asked him for a number 2, and it's exactly the same. I am quite sure he either never attended any maths classes when growing up or does not undestand my English. He's not english himself, possibly from an eastern european country and this could be the reason. Yet, when I think about it, it has been a long time since I have been scalped by an English hair dresser. Hairdressing shops are also popping up all over the place, just like 30 years ago it would of been shoe shops, or ten years ago phone shops, or even 5 years ago pound shops. Now the in thing is hair dressers. Maybe they are in reality laundry shops. Money laundering shops. For all the dodgy dealings which are going on in this country.

Talking about dodgy dealings. On the radio the other day I heard the Nigerian government had lodged a complaint about the film called "District 9" apparently it portrayed Nigerian's in a light they did not want to be seen in. Or rather a shady not so much light. Having sat through the film and thought it rather good I can tell you what they are talking about. The complaint was how Nigerian actors played underland gang bosses taking advantage of aliens by selling them cat food at exhorbitant prices. I'm glad I'm not an alien that's for sure. However, it's odd because today I was shown a letter which was sent to someone for an outstanding debt owing to Sky TV but through a third party debt collecting company. They had also received a phone call from this third party debt recovery company, on the end of the phone was an African sounding man requesting payment of the bill. They fobbed off the phone call and later contacted Sky directly. Sky advised they had not heard of the company and there was no outstanding debt with them. Also before writing this blog I picked up an email of a telephone scam. A person rings up asking for payment on behalf of British Telecom for a bill outstanding. Even if the individual does not use BT the caller says their phone company is renting the line from BT. Then if the caller thinks the con is not being bought they say they will cut the phone off as proof. Telling the recipient to put the phone down. If you then put the phone down and pick it up to make a call there is no tone at all. When the phone is replaced a second time the con artist rings up again. This is a simple trick. When the caller originally rang up they do not terminate the call as the receiver is put down on them, they stay on the line and press the mute button. Then the victim trys to make a phone call on a call which hasn't been terminated in the first place. The victim hears no dial tone and nothing happens when they dial out. Next they put the phone down. The con artist hears the phone put down a second time, terminates the call and rings up. With smug smile as they reel the unsuspecting sap. The the email also stated it was a man with an African sounding voice on the end of the phone. This is not to say either the same person is doing a scam with Sky is doing a scam with fake BT calls, it's probably someone quite different. Though you may pretty much wonder where they come from.

My head is itching. I know the hairdresser is quite a nice bloke, I always feel quite relaxed when I get my hair cut and just sit back sometimes even getting close to dozing off. The one think I'll not do though is answer my phone, which would be rude wouldn't it?

Vampire TV eats brains

Just watched the first 8 minutes of The Vampire Diaries season one episode one. The title says it all. What is wrong with me? Typical American teen actors who over act. Typical and predictable script, words written by adult script writers for teenagers to speak, which is always a let down when young people get adult words, because the reality is they just don't speak like adults, they have their own lingo and are incensed with the shallow nature of the world. Yes, it's shallow TV as well. No deep meaning or thought provoking events have come about. Don't forget the cardboard over acting. I know it's a made for TV production company thing, but surely they can do better? Make-up, overdone, the boys look like they have more foundation than the girls, and they probably have because of their pubescent pox marked faces, bubbling cauldrons of acne. Like a redcurrant porridge I bet. The girls are young and perfect to the point of making me want to vomit, however to make up for it they have very little brains. I'd rather have a cup of tea and biscuit than spend a minute in their company. (All because the tea lover enjoys a good Sudoku puzzle). There's obligatory special effects, which are thrown in within the first moments of watching, just to make sure if you didn't know otherwise, this is going to be a TV series about the super natural. Hey PEOPLE, THE SUPERNATURAL DOESN'T EXIST. But very gullible teenage TV watchers believe it does in any form it is presented to them. Were it to actually exist it sure don't relate to vampires. The beauty of galaxys seen through the Hubble telescope are the real supernatural. Alright I'm a little harsh on the Show at this point, because the title says it's going to be about vampires. I should of taken a clue, and any ordinary person wouldn't watch this TV unless they were expecting mind numbing tripe. I'm not ordinary, and was just hoping it would not be such tripe. Mind, I did once bump into a vampire friend and he was a very nice chappy. He'd gone off the traditional blood from humans. It was something to do with having too much fat, salt and sugar in our diets, it just kept giving him indigestion. I said I didn't believe him and he just looked me in the eyes crossed his heart and hoped to die, right there in front of me. So it has got to be true. How I wish I had just picked up another episode of 24, at least the super human Jack Bauer is partly believable, I know because like vampires he's come back from the dead as well. Maybe he should be in his own diary. Along the lines of "Jack Bauer, Vampire Diary" yep, it's got a certain ring to it, I might have heard it before somewhere, but hell, there's cliches all over the world and nothing is new. Hope. Hope is all you can have. Just maybe, just statistically something new will be written. Something unique, in which lobotomised TV watchers find their brain is engaged, even taxed. It's too much to ask for?

OK, after wasting 8 minutes of my life and wasting more time writing about the dribble I wish I hadn't watched, what else did I do today? Went to the Fish Factory. Saw no human beings for about 8 hours. Only had one 5 minute phone call to Sparkling, who had been out in the sun and didn't put on her sun screen, naughty girl. I very nearly went mad. I'm going to have to watch myself, even though I detest human company at times when slicing and gutting fish, I need it. I need someone to talk to, even if it is tripe. Back to tripe again. Maybe I am crazy? I better look at myself in the mirror and check the colour of my white's, just in case they gone a yellow shade. What am I saying, it's been several years since I seen my reflection. Better not go into the reasons why, I'd have to kill you. If not, ask you to cross your fingers, turn round 5 times so you are dizzy then vanish in a puff of smoke. It's my party piece. Tat taaaaa.

Socks, t-shirts and messages about lady GaGa

Like watching Car-Crash TV, last night I spent some time checking out useful videos on YouTube. Videos I found useful but other people might think them a little odd. These were the art of folding a t-shirt in two seconds and how to fold socks. Now it might be odd to some people to watch such things but I actually enjoyed these instructional videos. I can and have demonstrated how to fold a t-shirt in the pub, and did it in two seconds. I was offered socks as well but declined seeing as they were still being worn at the time. Though I can't understand why the company I had were interested in the t-shirt technique but not interested in the sock folding. To me they both seem like quite valuable skills to have and make use of. Only this morning when I got up, had breakfast and was about to wash I hit my sock draw and withing a few minutes had folded up half the socks. Most of these are the white sport sock type which were just taking up a lot of room. Now I've reduced the space they take up and the draw looks neat and tidy. I mean really tidy. I'm going to show everyone I meet how to do it. So I'd better start carrying around with me a spare pair of socks, I'll put them in my pocket and begin next week.

Having a little time to spare I sent a message of greetings to Rock Chick on MSN messenger. She ignored me, which is not surprising but then replied. However, it was not the kind of nice civil reply of "hello, I'm fine and how are you?" It was a link to a video of Lady Gaga. I'm sure everybody knows Lady Gaga the sexy and talented female singer who makes you just want to get up and dance. Well, just like the last time I saw Rock Chick she had to spoil it for me. Get into my head, play with my mind, make me think otherwise of a very decent Artist. The video was titled:

Lady Gaga has a Penis? Lady Gaga is a man? Man Gaga? Mr.Gaga? Sir.Gaga? (NOT EDITED)"

What can I say. The same warped sense of humour which Sparkling has shown towards things which might disturb me came out. Cut from the same clothe, bloody typical. Well I thought I'm going to watch this video anyway, because there is no way Lady Gaga has got a penis. Just like the time Rock told me when she saw Lady Gaga the crowd began to chant "get your cock out." This like this are said by people to get to you, to make you doubt yourself, doubt even your own sexuality. I mean, I don't fancy men. I know what a woman looks like, I know the difference. Usually an Adams Apple gives it away. But a cock! If Lady Gaga had a cock we'd see the outline in her panties when she wore those close fitting little dresses. I'm now turning my head away (oops inappropriate use of words) and gagging (again inappropriate use of words) at the thought of such a thing. The video lasts just over five minutes. I sat there and watched expecting some kind of special effects or editing by some jealous and silly person who wanted to get to Lady Gaga fans. I can say there was nothing there which suggested anything to me. I messaged Rock back and told her. Her reply was to listen again adding "she has a wiener " at 1:14 it's actually a few seconds earlier where Lady Gaga gets off a motorcycle and is momentarily stuck. She's having a problem just lifting her leg up. She then mumbles quietly into the microphone something along the lines of "ooo I don't think I put panties on," but she does have panties on. So Rock was intimating if Lady Gaga doesn't have panties on then she must be wearing men's underpants instead. This is an awful, awful thought to put into any Lady Gaga fan's mind. I tried desperately not to go down this road, and forget what she had said or implied. But sometimes when somebody says something it just sticks there, and you can't do anything about it. Thanks again Rock Chick.

Think I'll go and visit my sock draw for five minutes, chill out and maybe the folding of socks will remove any further aberrant intrusions to my mind.

What is a grape by any other name

Heading out of the door this morning, I spied a grape vine overhanging the wall of a garden. To the extent is was no longer on the private side. Now grapes like any other plant don't have much of an idea about where they can grow, they just grow regardless of which property or public land they are on. The sun light lit the vine from behind and then quite a few bunches of grapes caught my eye. Are these grapes edible or not I wondered. Being the UK isn't really in the Mediterranean, you would think it impossible to grow grapes in first place. Yet again, the grape plant being ignorant of the Island it is growing on cares less and just does it's best. These grapes were definitely black, with a kind of dusted mottled look about them, like they were covered in a powder. I traversed the road plucked a grape and popped it in my mouth. One of the more cleaner looking ones. And although it was small it was nice and sweet with no pip. It went down lovely. So I picked another one just to try it out and went off to catch the train. The second, wasn't what I had expected. The pip must of been the same size of the grape, I had just been lucky the first time round.

Now if I had got a whole bunch of grapes stuck them in a pot, trod on them, fermented them for a period, filtered, and done whatever else was needed, right now I'd be blind drunk. What a thought.

The smell of eggs and bacon or a brain hemorrhage

This morning I woke up, it was early so I decided to just close my eyes and go back to sleep. Even though I hadn't seen my clock I just knew it was early. What woke me up was a strong smell of bacon and eggs. It was pretty odd. Then I have been aware of this problem of smelling things which are not there, or so I think because Sparkles has told me it's a bad sign, a sign of something going wrong in the head. So just to make sure it was not bacon and eggs I took a couple of really good inhalations and doing so I said to myself "there is no bacon and eggs it's all in my mind" because as far as I was concerned this was probably just another clue to the possibility I was having a brain hemorrhage. I hear smelling things which aren't there is a clue. So after a few deep breaths and then being convinced I was just going crazy even in my sleep, I fell back into a nice warm happy slumber.

On the second awakening I knew it was time to get up so had to make a move and drag myself out of a comfortable bed. When I did this I then went downstairs to make breakfast, but before I could even reach the middle stair I was struck by a pretty awful pong. I was absolutely sure this was real and not imagined. It was the cat who had caused it. The curtains were drawn and the morning is slightly darker the days shorten for winter. So with this dimmed light I then wondered about my footing. The thought of treading in a lovely pile of cat poo terrorised me. I turned the light on, with trepidation I stepped carefully and looked but could not see it. The next thing was to open the window and back door. This way there would be some fresh air flowing through the downstairs. Even though the weather was still and not even the lightest breeze existed my logic was sound. With curtains opened I turned off the light. Momentarily wondering if I was going nuts again and had another look. A little more carefully this time. Then I found it, like an unwanted runner's up bingo prize, right there behind the telly a nice big giant pile which I'd of thought was too big for a domestic cat. Lovely, where the hell had he stored it all? I let both cats out and so began my morning awakening.

It's odd but sometimes when you think you are going crazy but find out you are not crazy at all, you just wish you were, because things would be a lot easier. And crazy people just smell bacon and eggs all the time.

Testosterone comes free with power tools

I bought a cordless drill today. So I can drill holes into things, like wood, or maybe bricks, or something. It's a beautiful piece of machinery, I was wondering if I should take it to bed with me. To keep me company and then I can have dreams of DIY. All I have to do now is actually learn how to do some DIY. This is not to say the drill has no purpose. It's so I can attach a new window sill to one which is rotting away at the side of the house. And on very hot days I can add a fan and leave it running on my desk top to keep me cool. But from what I understand about doing any kind of work on the house. From experience with L & B man. It should be planned although this isn't the case with L & B man, he just makes a decision and then it has to be carried out. There's never much in the way of exactly working out what is needed. More of finding something which will fit and if it doesn't, which it most likely doesn't the said object has to be made to fit. By cutting, bending, shaping or any means possible. Indeed I need someone who can teach me a bit about DIY, about everything and I mean everything. The drill is nice to hold though. They call it balanced, and it's not too heavy either. It came with two batteries so I'm ready for anything which requires a hole of some kind. Now to think about a belt, one of those big ones with big baggy like hanging bits, to put stuff in. The stuff you need when doing DIY. To make you look good and feel like a man should feel. I can tell there's one thing Doctors forget to tell their male patients, it's easy, when you're hen pecked, just get yourself down to the local hardware store, amble around for hours looking at tools, gazing in awe, and if you can, pick one up and see what it feels like hmmmm. What an injection of testosterone.

Exreme solutions over a pint

I really enjoyed my evening in the pub today. It was prime pub chit chat and fun. This new bloke decided to air his concerns about his son and his wife. I shall call the new man the Interpreter because he interprets french to English and vice versa. His second wife he lives with is Japanese and his 16 year old son has been kicked out by his first wife and sent to stay with him. The young man found himself shoved onto a plane in Germany and ended up in London with his dad. The Interpreter's problem was his present wife was having an issue with talking to his son. The issue was over boundaries and as a Japanese woman she is somewhat tacit in what to say. To put it bluntly she just doesn't know how to talk to the kid. In turn the kid probably doesn't know quite what to say to her. Finding now he has been abandoned by his real mum who has just had enough of him, and although the Interpreter was saying his first wife was NUTs, all I can say is who can tell who is nuts nowadays? But going back to the 16 year old lad who speaks German, English and I expect probably French as well. Wow wish I could of spoken three languages at his age. Anyway the Interpreter finds he is now acting as a conduit between the two of them and he just doesn't know how to deal with it. The situation is becoming tiresome for him. In short he was looking for sympathy and answers. I tried my best to give him both in this situation, over a pint of Guinness of course. Actually it ended up being two pints and I was offered a third yet managed to refuse. Mind I must say my headache which I had at the start of the day isn't bothering me so much now. Which is good. As for the Interpreter his headache is still hanging around, I'm sure.

The situation sounded like one of language and of culture. The Interpreter confirmed there was a cultural aspect to his Japanese wife who was hot on cleaning up apparently. Sounds a bit like someone I know who has a thing about the t-towel being in the right place I thought. So being my half dizzy self I made a couple of suggestions and threw in some profound facts. Firstly I said they need to be forced to do something together. As they were not talking I wondered if it would be a good idea to gag them both and the put them in a life and death situation. Where they could not get out of it unless they worked together. The Interpreter confided in me he at first thought I was going to come out with some rational fact and I even sounded quite sane, but after this comment he wasn't so sure. But my notion was running on the concept both his Japanese wife and his German son had to speak to communicate with each other. Another witness to the conversation thought it was a bit extreme and I should write a book of extreme ideas on how to get out of situations. I didn't think this would be likely until I had at least two more pints and a pencil to write with. The Interpreter felt I wasn't being so helpful so I offered up another suggestion, because he obviously was not being taken in by this profound font of knowledge I possessed. The second idea was along the lines of throwing both his wife and son into a big tank full of water, one life belt and a shark. Of course to escalate the situation a little one of them would have to be cut. Just to add emphasis to the situation. Well what can I say. The Interpreter gave a loud half hysterical laugh and really didn't consider this as an option. Pity, I could see them thrashing about in the water and fighting over the life belt, which had been sprayed with a shark repellent substance. Perhaps my ideas were falling on deaf ears? At which moment I quoted to them something Thomas Edison had once said when trying to invent the light bulb. It was along the lines of "every time I fail, I get one step closer to success." At this point old Edison knew of one way which didn't work and so this was what I was trying to impart to the Interpreter. Though I really can't tell if he internalised exactly what I was getting at, as far as I was concerned although the examples might sounds extreme, the basic concept of conflict resolution was there, all he had to do was go and find a life belt.

I soon left the pub knowing my work had been done this day. I had succeeded in helping someone live their life a little easier. Of course, the Guinness sure did help.

A one toothed smile

I saw Monster Boy this evening and it was wonderful to view his smile. Especially as he has one very large front tooth now springing up, just to say he was now getting a little older. Within a moment he declared he was stuck to me, hugging me while I tried to walk up the stairs, he was glued, an invisible glue but a nice one. I advised to be careful I didn't tread on his toes. At which he soon became unstuck. With enthusiasm he took me into his world of Star War comics and Spiderman. Then I learnt it would be his birthday soon, telling me the the exact date so I should not forget. Although I asked him what he would like, he didn't ask for anything in particular and just said something for the family. I got a few weeks yet so I'm sure to find out later on and his desire will be let out. At a much taller and mature 9 years old I'm sure there is a list of items he has in mind. For now at this wonderful age the only thing which matters is being the best drawer in the class, and what is the best ever superhero and villain. The company of Monster Boy I found pleasing although he can sure talk a lot about comic book characters and it can be difficult to pay attention, but I did my very best.

The alternative to feeling low, go for a run

I ended the Fish Factory today feeling sad. It can't be helped when I've returned from seeing Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. I have to cast out of my mind those feelings of depression and think of other things which have happened over the last few days. Like how close I came to being a dog's dinner when I went out jogging and a Great Dane fancied some chicken leg. Or how I spent a good half an hour under a bathroom sink fiddling about with the rods to the plug figuring out how to get it to work properly. Or how lucky I was to be scowled at by Sparkling when my mind reading abilities had temporarily lapsed. Even mowing the lawn three times in three days to get it appropriately cropped was more exciting than being where I sat today. Although my lifestyle changes when I see Sparkles, every moment is wonderful. Even if Rock is shouting out "mum" when I've said something so she can bend it in a way to get me in hot water. But it don't matter, it don't matter one little bit.

Now I have to find things to keep myself busy. Painting had become my reprieve and back into it I will delve again. The house inside and out, weather permitting. Or maybe I should just get up particularly early tomorrow morning put on a pair of trainers and seek a four legged animal to run away from, what could be better inspiration to do something, other than just sit here, drinking tea and eating biscuits. Be it chocolate ones.

Teenagers cause adverse reactions

Back in London after living with Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. I think my hands are worn out with the amount of foot massaging and back massaging which had to be done. But at least I left with Sparkles feeling a lot better after having all those muscles loosen up. It was hard work, real hard and I didn't begin to notice any difference until about the 4 or 5 day mark. It surprising how much tension can be pent up in a back. As for feet I'll just not go there. I enjoyed most of my time in their company, I'd be a fibber if I said all of it. I did, but it's not quite as enjoyable when you get told off for not putting the t-towel in it's right place. Odd how OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) some people can get over the smallest of misplacement's. The worse part though was probably not putting the t-towel in place, no the worse was a lot worse than this misdemeanour.

Sparkles went off to her secondary Fish Factory, which she's only just began working for and I was left in the house. It so happened Dangerous Sports lad was back for two days and a night from his job. He spent his time with Rock Chick as he should. However, there they were in the living room giggling, pinching each other, tickling each other and general canoodling. I can not say how irritating this was for me, I couldn't get to watch the TV because Rock had the remote and was therefore by default the TV God. To boot though, they weren't really watching anything because they were too busy canoodling. I never did it at their age. Never. I'd never dream of doing it. Mostly because I didn't have a chance at their age to do any canoodling, seeing as I was painfully shy. Very. So much I was scared of my own shadow. The canoodling made me want to boke. They seemed to be at it for ages. Like two little love birds completely attentive to each other and having fun. It was like watching a bad soap and having soap thrown in my eyes to make sure I was attentive. There was only one thing to do. I had to make myself busy and did some tidying up. Socks and pants. Socks and pants. Then to fix a plug hole it's plug. I know I missed the experience of teenage years, because in those olden days things were quite different, girls were bloody scary. To certain extent they are now. But for a short while I had to experience what it was like when I didn't want to. I know it's the growing up process and it's all quite natural. But I don't think Sparkling realised the hell she had left me alone to observe. All I can say is thank heavens I did miss those teenage years because of my shyness predicament, because if I had been this way in my own teenage years I'd remember it now and boke again.

Yes, it's old man syndrome again. But I'm entitled to be grumpy and old, it's what I do best. Except of course massage feet and backs. Which reminds me, my back don't half ache. At least I have done my job in Scotland for a few days, and I didn't even get a quick snog on the sofa for it either.

Cannibals are closer than you think

I've had a great week with Sparkles and Rock Chick. Although I am continually wary of being a victim to their combined satire. One I can take, but the two of them and I am then completely at their mercy. But they don't work together all the time it's just when they seem to be sitting on the same sofa. Sparkles has been working the long leg pull, it's to do with cannibalism and her survival.

One day while sitting down watching TV, listening to music, or maybe just reading a paper. Sparkling asks me if I would eat someone if I had to, were there no choice over the matter. This is a human being, she was talking about. I thought about this for a moment, wondering about the movie I saw where a football team had got stuck on a mountain and ended up eating each other. They were Mexican possible, perhaps there just was a lack of fajitas about. My reply was along the lines of, when I was younger I'd probably baulk at the idea but now I'm older and a little larger in size, I just might eat another person, given there was absolutely no choice in the matter and it was one of survival. Life or death so to say. Sparkling asked if I'd give my life up for her if she needed the food. I took this a little further and asked at what point would it be she'd require such sustenance. Would this be after a couple of weeks, or a month, when the water ran out, the food ran out, or at a suitable time when the rescue parties had a chance to come and look for us. She was willing to wait for 2 weeks but this seemed to be at a stretch. I'm sure she mentioned liver, but what was off the menu were my toes. I asked if maybe when she felt hungry I could offer an arm, this way I would still be alive. It would give us both some time, and time to be recovered from this odd situation. Alas this solution was not to her satisfaction, because I was told: I would be moaning too much and she would not be able to put up with my moaning. She'd have to eat my tongue, so it would be best for me to just offer myself up so she could live. Willingly I asked. Yes was her reply because if I wanted her to carry on living and I wanted to show how much I love her I should just give in to it. Her appetite being what I was to give into.

It is with realisation everything now adds up. I used to be a pretty skinny wretch when I first met Sparkling. She in turn has fed me up. I'm now of a ripe size, so if we get stuck in Alaska, a desert Island or some other barren land I will be on the menu. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sparkling has told me she likes a little lard on her meat. Now when sparkling massages my back with one of those little knobbly massaging ornaments I wonder is this to loosen up the muscles or is it to pulverise some meat. Well it is a leg pull, what more do I expect.

Beware of groan traps, worse than man traps

Hit the Fish Factory for a short stint. The night before I had psyched myself to wake up early and I did, perfectly on time. The Fish Factory is normally manic during the week, but on a weekend there is a very pleasant and relaxed quietness. It is conducive to work, especially when you have to pay attention to detail, think and analyse. I like thinking, sometimes perhaps too much, but it's possible to drop down deep into something which engrosses, then time flies by. It's the people around me who are a problem, they talk too much and some babble worse than a baby learning to speak.

As a small treat to myself after the Factory I walked across the road and took a seat overlooking the Thames. The sun was out so it was bright and I could feel the sun on my back, a strong breeze kept me cool. Meanwhile Papillon came along with to keep me company, a chapter was waiting. Before I began reading I sat down and decided to give Sparkles a ring. I had interrupted housework duties and Sparkles let out some groans about her own Fish Factory. Groaning. Before I knew it I had fallen into a groan trap. One of those discussion you just can't get out off, where a good moan comes forth about people who make the Factory scene an unpleasant experience. I got groaning away as well. Next to my surprise Sparkles was tell me I was the Grumpy Old Man (GOM) and it was natural for me to be like this but not for her, because everybody knows it. I even know it, I'm a GOM and can't get away from it. But on this occasion I started of light hearted and happy, because tomorrow I'll be heading up on a train. It was as if some kind of shift had taken place in the conversation. From perky chatty bloke to GOM. Sparkles had some how managed to shift her groany mind into my mind. Thought transference over mobile phone. She laughed at this magical feat. Whereas I was bewildered, I didn't know what had happened, how in the blink of an eye I went from one mode to the other. She had changed me, like changing the channel on a TV set, she'd just pressed a button and there I was from happy land to moany land TV. The conversation ended, I scratched my head and diverted five minutes away to Papi.

Papi didn't help much either, great, he's been a bit down lately with thoughts about his lost friend and escaping to Devil's Island. Sometimes it's necessary to escape from everybody. Ear plugs don't do it, they just dampen it. Just to think I was feeling bloody good today, like something was being achieved now I've been caught. There is one solution, a biscuit and a cup of tea. Keep your eyes off, it's mine.

An impending journey

I'll be off shortly to see the incredible Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick in a couple of days. Sparkling has just succeeded in being interviewed for a job. She explained how the interview went, making a joke about psycho geriatrics, bursting a saliva bubble and really getting on well with the interview panel. She said they all just "clicked," it's wonderful news and I am so happy she has achieved it as this was her first interview in the last 15 years. Rock Chick has also been in work for a while, in a retail sector job and is enjoying the experience. For a growing up young lady she has shown she has what it takes to knuckle down when needed. This also makes me happy, because she is now blossoming into something wonderful, taking on responsibilities and adventures in working life. The thought of seeing both Sparkles and Rocks again makes me well up with happiness and warmth. I can barely contain myself, but I will just for the time being. It's a long trip on the train to Scotland. I believe this is because it feels like the train is not going fast enough. Although it goes upto 125 m.p.h., the truth is it just isn't fast enough. The Journey from my door to Sparkles will last about 8 hours, more or less depending on the train service. However, happiness will be walking out of the station crossing three roads and waiting a short moment outside a pub for my lift. At which Sparkles will say "hurry up, hurry up, get in the car" and hopefully drive off with me in it, rather than just one foot in the car and a foot on the road. I can't wait.

Radiation causes hair loss

This morning when I washed my hair it fell out. Which made me wonder if I should give up washing my hair entirely this way it might not fall out. The other thing I considered was I might have a dose of radiation poisoning. Although I don't work in a nuclear plant of any kind at all, Fish Factories generally run of the mains electric supply. I still wondered if it was selective radiation poisoning. Just enough to make my hair drop out. I saw it as it was sucked down the greedy plug hole. How many hairs I asked myself do I have left on my head now? It's not going to be many by the end of the month if it keeps going on like this. Well at least I won't need to go to the hairdressers so there's an expense gone. The other cause of hair loss could be my diet. They say as you get older you should change what you eat. Different foods with more good stuff inside them, more with the hair growing stuff, vitamins or what have you. If it is a matter of eating the right foods then exactly what foods should I be eating? Ones which probably haven't been grown anywhere near a nuclear energy plant. Or ones which haven't been air freighted, because every time you go up in a plane you get a little bit more of a dose of radiation. Not enough to glow by and forget turning the lights on. Just enough though to have an effect. I have to get in a lift a few times a day, because of the floor I work on, which is above ground level, but not much. No, I don't expect this is the reason for my hair loss. And I'm really trying not to worry about stuff, except for the occasional night where I can't sleep. I'll not go into it. Though they do happen now and again.

Maybe I should of been a chemist, then I could of experimented with all kinds of drugs, there must be some which work. Whoever finds the pill which cures hair loss will have one the lottery over and over again. I'll keep my fingers crossed, but there's no way I'm going to pat my head.

Don't treat men like that

Sparkling has been telling me about Rock Chick. For Rock Chick has now become a chip off Sparkling's block. This is concerning, especially for any unknowing man about. Sparkling likes to set traps, traps which require a little bit of bullet dodging. I have a giant "S" on my chest given to me by the original bullet proof man himself. He said to me "hey mate, I hear you have done such a good job at dodging Sparkling's bullets I'm going to make you an honorary superhero." My reply was a simple "thank you very much" to which the man in blue and red flew off. Now I hear Rock Chick other half Dangerous Sports Boy is being played with like a kitten plays with a dangling ball of wool. The soft stringy stuff just doesn't have a chance, unfortunately the very same goes for Dangerous. On a lighter note, and quite delightful note. If Rock Chick is busy playing with her toy it means she will not be giving me hassle. Oh I can hear the tune from an old classic being played this very moment, Louis Armstrong. Can you guess it? Oh what a wonderful world.

So although Rock Chick is without doubt a chip of the old block, it doesn't quite make sense. Sparkling says she is the person she is now because of the men she has had in her life. Then she went on to blame me. Which is typical, it's not like I put her together from a Lego set, or playing about in the shed one night because I had nothing better to do. I replied this is not true and did not make Sparkling what she is today. Further I can't tell Sparkling what to do, and I would never dream of telling her, my life would not be worth it. Then if I did say something she would do completely the opposite just because I said it, and it would be my fault. So in reality as a man there is absolutely no way out. I think this was why it was men who invented Teflon during space flight, if they hadn't, astronauts would still be up there in space circling round and round because they were arguing over who's turn it was to do the washing up. I know who's turn it is, whenever I am in Sparkling's vicinity and the washing up needs doing, it's my turn. So going back to what I was saying, it don't make sense Rock Chick can acquire Sparkling's knowledge of how to deal with men at such an early age. It is completely unfair. Certainly for poor Dangerous at the moment, he hasn't got a single idea of how to deal with it. I even heard how he delivered a little speech about how much he loves Rock Chick over a nice evening meal and she then burst into laughter. This is not the way to treat a poor defenceless ball of wool.

I may need to chat to Dangerous about the Eastern art of bullet dodging. But perhaps he will need to earn his own "S," it might take time a long time. For the force in this secret art needs a good teacher and I don't have the time. Then again if it keeps Rock Chick happy it's the only thing which matters. I could let him into the secret of Teflon, nahh he's got to find it out for himself.