Give me a shelf of Larynxs

I got into the Fish Factory this morning, with a bright and breezy feeling. Anticipating the day and thinking it's good to be here when the rest of the gang hadn't taken up residence. Made a coffee, sat down. Sneezed as usual. Pored the coffee into my cup then had a sip. Within two or three seconds I began coughing. No matter what I did, the cough would not stop. It sounded bad. Although I was feeling just a little run down with a pretty bad cold. Having no control over it was the clincher and meant I had to make the decision to go. Just leave the factory and spend a day indoors. To tell the truth though, I'd rather of been in the factory. I'm not sure what it is, but as my voice has got real croaky I'm guessing it's some kind of throat thing. Larynx problem. I sound horse or toad like. With one of those gruff sexy voices, not quite Barry White, but still gruff. When I speak it's like forcing words out of my mouth because my voice box just doesn't want to give them up, it wants to hold on to them. So I don't speak much. I can't. It's not my choice. Though I expect there might be some people who would think this good. It would be the time to pick an argument and know they were going to win it, I'd be at a complete and utter disadvantage. Yep. Some I'm sure do like the notion of having all the cards stacked in their favour. Generally though, I don't mind it, but when I don't have the option, well it's like being on a bus and finding someone has disengaged the bell so you just don't know if the driver is going to bother to slow down or even stop where you want him to.

It's a pity I couldn't just pick up a spare larynx at the paper shop. Like a box of matches. You only get one larynx, treat it with care. Love it tenderly, never strain it. Please come back larynx I'll never take advantage of you again and think you will always be there, because today you have given me a taste of life without you. I can't take it. I need my voice, I need to be heard.

It even seems Sparkling's not replying to my text messages. Mind this morning when I sent my text while on a train, I got an immediate reply. Only to find it was just a text Sparkling had sent to me at the same time. Precisely the same time. OK my larynx may not be working but there is some kind of second sense kicking in here. It's happened a couple of times over the last few weeks. I send a text and she sends at the same moment. Don't know if it's spooky, I don't see it such a way, rather comforting in especially knowing the one you love thinks of you just the same moment you think of them. Larynx, oh larynx where are you. Fingers can get tired of typing and texting, come back oh larynx. What about some ice cream, maybe a little tuti-fruiti? Where's the freezer?

Fighting a cold while watching TV

I have come down with a bad cold. I know it's a cold because someone stuck a needle in my arm and gave me a flu jab, I hope it was a flu jab anyway. So in an effort to revitalise my immune system I hit the shops this morning and got a carton of orange juice. Sleeping in late might of helped but sleeping in isn't something to do all the time. Not when you just feel the need to get up out of bed and be mobile. You don't have to be active, just mobile. The cold is blamed on getting my hair wet and not drying it thoroughly, it happens every now and again. Yet over the week this thing has decided to attack my bodily defences I have really been going down hill. On a slippery down hill as well. Copious sneezes, blocked up nose, waking up with a dry foul tasting mouth because I could only sleep with my mouth open, feeling an ache in my lower back. It's like I'm some kind of patch work Pinocchio where the nails just have not been rammed home hard enough, so each step I take could end up with a part of my body falling on the ground. A leg here, arm there and possibly even a nose over there. Bit by bit this relentless virus attacks me. It don't put on boxing gloves or pull up a chair and say "hey buddy lets arm wrestle" no, but it would be nice if it did.

I spent some of the afternoon watching a footy game. Which is a little unusual because I'm not really a great fan. It has always seemed to me those men who go out of their way to know the names of every player in their team, their managers, their opponents and what happened ten years ago when they were in a different league, are lacking something. So much energy put into football when surely real life things which are going on around them are more important. So I sat and watched the match Leeds United versus Kettering Town. It was a one, one draw by the way. However, some eons ago, Leeds were a team I liked to watch. Odd considering I come from London. But then there are those people who support two or three football teams and they are really odd if not infuriating, because it shows they have no loyalty. If you are a supporter then it's just one team. And it will be your team for life. So I shouted at the telly. The game was enjoyable, but I shouted. A short while afterwards I suddenly realised I'd lost my voice. Another side effect of taking vocal chords for advantage and this snotty nosed cold. Outside I could hear the rain. It hit the windows hard so sitting indoors and watching TV was made all the more comforting.

Lunch was a piri piri chicken. Or rather chicken drum sticks. They went down well after having a second period in the oven. Well the first time round they just didn't seem to be up to scratch. The roast potatoes were a little on the raw side. It happens when big moma does the cooking. How the hell I survived to today I don't know. Sparkling tells me my arteries are probably pretty furred up. I try not to think about it. I also thought of Sparkling when I got up this morning. Because she would of been on her way into work whilst I was on my second cup of tea. The one day I get off work she is in work. I sent her a text message because I was thinking of her and wanted her to know even though she'd probably have no time to text me back. Which is what happens when you work as hard as she does.

So I'm dosed up on drugs, anything legal I can get my hands on. With a little luck I might sleep right thought the night and wake up completely well. Otherwise I'll be dreaming about fighting germs and viruses. As long as my mouth doesn't end up like the Sahara desert it will be fine.

Wind, a birthday and horses for breakfast

The wind, the wind. The past few days it has been blooming windy, I mean blooming. The trees have nearly lost all their leaves, and if the temperature had dropped then it would be Arctic cold weather. Then there has been the rain. Blooming buckets full of the stuff. If you are unlucky enough to get caught in it without an umbrella then you're soaked. As the weather rages outside I just hope the windows will last another season and this old house can endure the elements. It could be something to do with the way houses were made 1970s. Where the designers wanted to give a modern look but in doing so they just made boxes which look sparse.

I went to see Silly Sophia because her son the Layabout had his 22nd birthday. I sat on the settee and she told me how she had the flu. I thought nothing of it, having recently got a flu jab. Then I'm told her friend has just had the flu. The swine flu. I'm thinking to myself this is wonderful, I've had a flu jab and now being told I might still get it from someone who is contagious sitting right next to me. It was nice to celebrate the Layabout's birthday. He told me of an interview he'd been on and how nervous he felt. It was all down to nerves his not being in a job. I spent time trying to boost his moral with the usual chat. The one which goes along the lines off there's a lot of arse holes out there in jobs, who really can't do them, but the thing is they manage to sit through and interview and get the job. I told him I knew he was no worse than anyone else and was certainly a lot brighter than quite a few as well. I wonder whether my words do actually help at all and am in part feeling a bit despondent. It seems to me he just doesn't seem to be trying hard enough. Several times I've thrown the suggestion he do voluntary work, because if he was being interviewed it would be something he could talk about. Which would put him in a different light from other candidates for a job. On deaf ears it has fallen, stone deaf. But he's a good kid, one who's environment has unfortunately contributed to where he is now. I'll keep on trying and keep on with the encouragement. However, I hardly ever see him nowadays and it's his choice what he does. Like the saying goes. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink.

Not many horses round where I live. No I tell a lie, there are a few on some fields, tethered to stakes with big water buckets near them. At one time horses were known to roam the streets here. I am talking of about 30 -40 years ago. You would be woken up at night by the sound of hooves on the road. Loads of them, clip, clop, clip clop. Then take a look out the window into the dark night and there they would be grazing on peoples gardens. This was when the houses had just been built and did not have walls around their fronts. But the horses were considerate. They'd have a good crap so you could always throw the manure on the roses. I was scared of the horses when they were out. Being on account of how big they were and how many there were. But I can't think there can be many people in this world who have this same experience, horses on the front lawn. Sometime early morning, just visiting, not for the Kellogg's, but some fresh green grass. Am glad they didn't, they would of used up all the milk.

Yesteryear

Chrimbo is nearly coming. For some reason there isn't as many adverts on TV as there normally is trying to sell things we can't live without at Chrimbo. Childrens toys. A result of the recession no doubt. I must admit I've managed to live without childrens toys for some years. Then this happens when adulthood eventually arrived. Though for some it never does. Completely lost in the world of superheroes, comic book characters and Japanese manga. I'll admit to a little Sci Fi now and again, but this is allowable. We all have flaws. Most of mine nowadays tend to be grey ones. Grey hairs to be more precise. Or the lack of hairs. Or the over indulgence. Saying I remember when I used to be skinny is not a good thing. But I was. Skinny. Actually come to think of it I can understand being lost in a world of crazy different fantasy worlds. Like a second, third or forth childhood. Though why things which don't exist? Maybe it's just the feeling of being taken back to yesteryear when younger. When stronger and not as vulnerable, bald, grey or fat as today. Is it me or do I sound depressive I ask.

As the wonderful old song goes. Heck I had to say old. O.K. as the wonderful song goes, the one by Monty Python. "Always look on the bright side of life." The cat is scratching while I write. he's about to have a dump. Wonderful.

This is a good time to think of cherry blossom and gentle fragrances. The alternative is far stinkier.

Lapdog arrives, in Pink

Sparkling has received her lapdog, soon after it arrived a text message in big bold letters was sent to me. I could feel her excitement through the words. Rock Chick came in from school and there was a manic rush to find the scissors and open up the box. I'm just so glad and happy it has arrived. It's a pity I could not of got it sent earlier, but saying this I am amazed how fast DHL are, and how reasonable their rates. I'd recomend them to anyone. Now the new lapdog works so fast Sparkling can't keep up with it and she will have to learn how to use the operating system and familiarise herself with all it's whistles and lights. Of course lets not forget the colour. Pink. I'm sure it is the best part.

At least we can chat on MSN, whereas before it the old lapdog would take half an hour to boot up. Then when I sent a message I'd get this frustrated and angry reply from Sparkling saying she couldn't answer or talk to me because her email was trying to load itself and doing two things at once was too much. With minimal effort we did a little video conferencing. It was great to see Sparkling, she looked so much better than me. I know because Sparkling told me so and I agreed. I was Hippy looking, in my hippy jacket, which I got from one of those hippy like shops where they sell all kinds of paraphernalia. It was in a sale and cold at the time. In addition Sparkling told me I had ten bellys, my room was untidy and basically it was my privilege to talk to her on the new lapdog because I had apologised for making an insensitive remark yesterday. Finally, Sparkling said now she would be able to see me get on my knees and apologise properly in future. I think this video conferencing thing might not be such a good idea, my cam has started to play up. Something technical and I'm just not smart enough to deal with these technical things.

I've added a picture of the sky to this blog, it's one of the set I took from last Sunday. It looks beautiful to me. The sky is there everyday, we look up once in a while, and bemoan how gloomy it is, but at other times we just don't bother standing there and looking up and doing nothing much else. It would probably be odd if a lot of people did this, all at once. Then it might not to them when they stood there, just marvelling. Unless they happen to have hippy jackets on, which would be very odd.

Autumn pics

Sunday gone was amazing. It was actually sunny and a day when there was no need to graft at the Fish Factory. I took myself out for a walk down to the man hormone replacement centre. It's a large DIY store and only something other men would appreciate. Bought a couple of items and then walked back. I pass a park on the way and had taken a compact camera along. Then spent maybe an hour maybe less just taking lots of pictures of trees, the sky, leaves and anything I liked. To begin with maybe it would only be a few pictures then when the memory card was plugged in and they were pulled up there was loads. So I have put one on my desktop background and added a couple on here, just to show. Anyone can take a picture, although knowing a little bit about the nature of photography and cameras helps.

I have ordered a lapdog for Sparkling and after some waiting and re-ordering parcel delivery have now shipped it off to her. It is pink. Regardless about anything else the most important thing is it is pink. The size of it, speed of the CPU, the hardisk size, number of USB ports and other things don't matter as much as the colour. Pink. This is clearly a demonstration of how men see things and how women see things. Pink was all what mattered. Pink engendered excitement. Pink. I wouldn't mind I'm still walking about with one boot half painted in pink from decorating. Yes. Decorating Sparkling's hallway. I got a pink boot. I suppose it could be worse, i could of had a tattoo put on my arm of a tree in blossom. Now who would do such a thing. Not me I'm suffering from pink boot syndrome at the moment.

Too much silence makes you go mad

There is one thing necessary for concentrating on anything at all. It is simply peace and quite. And although there are people out there in this world who believe they can multi task, the reality is any job which requires some attention can not be done through multitasking. Not conscientiously to any degree. Lets also add, there is no such thing as multi-tasking, because the brain just switches resources from one thing to another. This is why it is dangerous to drive a car and to talk on a phone at the same time. Even though it is illegal in the UK, I see this happen every day. So it means our laws are not strong enough. Or the consequences not considerable enough. I heard it said in one country if a motorist has an accident and a pedestrian is involved, the law immediately forms an opinion of guilt and maximum sentencing. It is then for the motorist to prove otherwise. What a remarkable notion. It might be Germany, but I really don't know.

Today I did a few hours in the Fish Factory and without the humdrum of gibberish being spoken around me, or various attention stealers it has been pleasant. Particularly as I was stuck on a problem trying to deal with an Excel Fish sheet. No matter how I thought about this problem of entering a fish cake, I didn't know if there was a particular fish recipe I needed but didn't know about or whether I already knew it but just didn't know how to mix it together in the right proportions. With concentration and some meandering around I found the answer. An answer which has taken a fraction of the time to construct a Fish sheet where others have taken weeks. Concentration did it and peace helped. I kept thinking about all the years of education I'd had in evening classes and wished I'd paid more attention. However, I got to the solution, partly from being bloody minded, but also because I knew there was a solution and if I could of gone back in time a few years ago I'd of realised the answer in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Mind I don't know how long it does take to shake a lamb's tail. The thing was the answer came to me, or rather I found it and the solitude helped enormously. This is efficiency and cost effectiveness.

Sparkling has just told me how she needed some space and vanquished off Rock Chick and Dangerous Sports boy into the belfries. I don't blame her. A hard day at work can make you crave for alone time. Except in my case I've spent the day alone and working with Fish. It can only be because I'm nuts. At one point I did wonder about talking out aloud while I was chopping off heads and tails. Then a crazier thought entered my mind. It was what would happen if I heard a reply especially when there was no one around. Then I would truly be hallucinating. Not being a taker of drugs, unless I got a hangover or migraine it could mean madness had eventually caught up with me. Yes. And there I was thinking I had out ran it. Well maybe I was pretty fleet of foot for a fat man. Yes I can be. So I get to live another day without being banged up in an asylum. Well, one can be thankful for small mercy's, as long as they don't talk back to you.

Cherry raisins on a path to the goal

I had today off from the Fish Factory. With some small plans in mind and I achieved most of them, tidying up a room which took a few hours and still needs some more work done on it, making an expensive purchase on Amazon and then going out to a shop to buy a coat for winter. The coat probably isn't water proof, but it is to some degree padded and should keep me warm, especially if I layer clothes. I also thought about writing a diary of notes just in case some day I do get round to becoming a great author, because then my notes would act as a source material. Sometimes it's pretty difficult just thinking things up when no thoughts come to mind. When for some reason the brain is in Zen mode, but you don't want it thinking of nothing because it has to think of something. I had a chat with L & B man with a bunch of minutes subscribed from a mobile phone company and which will otherwise be used up in a few days time. Lastly I wondered about the future, picking up a book by an alleged inspirational speaker. It was a book I bought cheap and I must of also been in dumb mode, with the hope it would tell me something. When the reality is, I already know the answers and any individual who picks up such a book might eventually come to the same conclusion. Our lives are our own and we know when the right frame of mind comes along, when we are ready to make the change, do something. I noticed a few words in the book about "goal setting" and thought how coincidental the words were. The concept had been swimming in and out of my senses. I nearly put the book in a bin but have decided to put it to one side and visit it. Just in case. You never know.

When in a large supermarket I picked up four bags of raisins. However, each bag is different. The raisins have been infused with the flavours of other fruits, cherry, lemon, orange and pineapple. Opening the cherry bag first I put the raisins in my hand and first smelled them. The smell was strong, very strong. They smelled just like a rich cherry brandy. So popping a few in my mouth I ate. They didn't taste like raisins although they had raisin texture and shape, no. they tasted like sweet, almost sickly cherries. If there were a warm feeling in my throat I'd of also said they could of been drenched in real cherry brandy. These raisins were a case of the eye being fooled by the taste and the brain getting a little mythed by it all. Nice all the same. Very nice.

Setting goals. The easiest way is to lay a whole punch of raisins down each one just a little step in front of the other. Even a little brandy, now we're talking.

Speaking Numbers

I've taken to learning a software program for the Fish Factory. It's called Excel and deals with something called spreadsheets. Lots of numbers, which can be organized in a plethora of ways, then they can be shuffled to tell things they wouldn't normal tell. In reality it is amazing what Excel is capable of doing. For in the right hands it can do highly complex statistical tests, I used to know a lot about statistics so take it as true, although I've forgotten a lot as well. Too much. But the process of learning something you haven't used before is stimulating. What does amaze me as well is how I now read of beginners and intermediate lessons in using Excel and these lessons seem exceptionally basic. Like trying to teach children the alphabet. Perhaps it's because I've spent too much time reading about Excel and trying to put it to some use. Or maybe it's because people who use Excel don't have to really use it, they just input and don't think about much else.

Like playing Chess. Someone who doesn't know how to play the game, or only ever learnt the basics and never got interested would just appreciate the beauty of the pieces. While another person who knew how the game was played if they looked at a board of pieces would begin calculating what the next move is and see how a route might be taken to get checkmated. With even a little light popping up in their head when the problem was solved. At this point the pieces would be singing and telling a beautiful story. This is very much the same with Excel and the way data can be sorted or made into something other than just the blandness of being data. At this point the numbers beginning to talk and their meaning is revealed.

This is not to say, I've heard any numbers talking. It would be silly to suggest they do. But I did hear the number six was scared. Apparently seven ate nine.

Thanks for the margarine

It's nearly the end of a week with Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. Tomorrow I head back to London. Which all seems a little apt with the wettest day of the year so far, with non stop rain since earlier this morning. At least the cat didn't wake me up 4 times during the night, for food, attention or to be let out. He conveniently decided to stay out before bed. Then wouldn't come in when it was time to hit the hay. Fine I thought. With only having to get up to let him in once and nothing else. Maybe he knew I'd be off shortly and thought it just wasn't going to do him much good relying on me running about like his little slave. Bloody cat. Like recalcitrant children they can't be controlled, you just love them and let them get on with it. Though I must admit to it being difficult, very difficult. As usual though I stand by a mantra "give them enough rope and they'll strangle themselves with it." Except for cats as they don't understand the concept a little bit of help is needed. So I just woke him up as often as I could whenever I saw him sneaking off for forty winks.

There seems to be a recurring theme in my life at the moment. But I'll not go into great detail. It's a bit like having a funny taste in your mouth which doesn't go away. I had this as well. My taste was margarine. Don't know why or where from, it just kept turning up. From no where there it would be, margarine. Sitting there watching TV minding my own business and kapow, margarine. There was no toast, muffins or fairy cakes just melted, mouth coated margarine. It stayed a little while then somehow just disappeared. It was a matter of endurance, but sometimes endurance of a calm exterior from a frustrating niggling annoyance is a Herculean task. Strong will is required. Thank heaven's for margarine is all I can say.