Losing time on 29th February without the pink thanks

It's come around again, the leap year and an extra day added in, although it gives all the clocks and calendars time to reset themselves it doesn't quite meet the mark. For there are also a few minutes lost.  To be absolutely correct it's 11 minutes and 14 seconds, but I note we do not change our watches  This would suggest over a number of years the actual time may not relate fully to the day.  After a few hundred years if we carry on getting up at say 6 a.m. in the morning it could end up we get up in the middle of the night.  Just because all of those 11 minutes and 14 seconds have added up to an accumulative deficit.  We're in effect going backwards.  This is worrying I don't want to get up for the Fish Factory when I have only just gone to bed.  Something will need to be done.

The other day I was chatting to Sparkling via text message and she advised me about a little job she has.  A little job for me.  It is to paint the kitchen.  I can understand this is to ensure I have something to do when I next see her, which is only a couple of days away and I don't mind doing things, except we are talking about pink.  Pink is not something men like to talk about or be associated with.  It is better for us to stay away from pink because we get ill.  There is no doubt a definite gender thing going on here, but it is very true and it could be genetic when I think about it.  There are few men in the world who would actually say they like pink, and if there is some then you first have to ask yourself if they are colour blind.  And then hope they are not electricians by occupation.  I don't fretted pink would bring me out in a rash and I would start to sing Dolly Parton songs.  This was a mistake because ten minutes later I found myself humming From 9 to 5 and thinking of Dolly.  OK I may of had an extra spring in my step at the time however, this was a psychosomatic spring brought on just by discussing the colour pink.  See even the subtle undertones of text can have an effect on the mind.  Tiny pink excitable brain receptors had been set of to spark.  No doubt they had been neglected since the last leap year.  Or leap day.

It is said on this day it is OK for a woman to ask a man if he would like to get married.  Many men would go down with mysterious illnesses.  Some would lock themselves away in a bunker, with a dozen DVDs, several pizza's and a few cans of beer.  They would then emerge in March wiping their brow and knowing the world was safe again to come out of the dark.  Those men were sensible, they knew the best place to be.  No doubt those warm safe bunkers were not painted pink either.  For this would of been anathema and been akin to have gender reassignment.  The stubble on their chin was not just a good mark of hormonal growth but it showed they had been through a one day war and come through the other side, victorious.  They didn't care for the extra 11 minutes either, because sometimes sacrifices have to be made and losing 11 minutes of your life every four years isn't so bad after all.  

Unfortunately the future may mean the world runs on atomic clocks so everything is perfectly synchronised.   Whether those men can then emerge at the right time will be a daunting prospect, and indeed what time is right?  A time when pink is relegated to some other place, far, far away.  Like Belgium, where chocolate makes up for it.

The 2012 Oscars, where did I put my bucket

The Oscars have been given out to glamorous rich actors, with lots of crocodile tears and equally crocodile emotions.  Except for the wit of host Billy Crystal, nine times host.  When I saw him I thought there is someone who has had a little bit of surgery.  His forehead looked so stretched and large I kept thinking of some sci fi film I saw ages ago but couldn't quite put  a name to the title.  Billy presented well, you could tell he had put a lot of practice for his speech, and although rehearsed it was still funny, some of his lines were ironic, sarcastic and darkly biting all with smile.  This man was lathering up the irony like a fat American layering yet more peanut spread and jelly on his sandwich.  I wondered to myself how sarcasm, subtle biting wit and comment was such an British trait and how on earth would America appreciate his performance.  Fortunately it was beamed to the UK so we could appreciate it. Some of Billy's comments were:

"...Hollywood tradition that not only creates memories for the ages but also breeds resentment that lasts a lifetime."   

What a reflection this is of the movie industry and shallowness of actors. Further I couldn't help think this man must be a silent socialist.  The audience laughed, it was a true gag, I'm sure the politicians and bankers didn't though.

"Nothing can take the sting out of the world's economic problems like watching millionaires present each other with golden statues." 

Again although the acting profession is incredibly well paid, parts of it, not all of it I guess, it lives in a world of it's own. In another twist of irony revealing the cultural divide of black and white America he said:

"After I saw The Help I just wanted to hug the first black woman I saw, which from Beverly Hills is a bout a 45 minute drive."

And for one of Hollywood's greatest female actors he said:

"Please welcome the original Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Angelina Jolie."  It was Angelina who wore a black velvet dress which had a split up one side and in order to show her leg she strutted one hip out.  I suppose she thought it was the best way to get noticed, but the truth be said she probably needed a get a ride and was hoping to stop passing traffic.  Talking about dresses, I'll just add this one point.  Meryl Streep winner of an Oscar for a tragic and mind numbing performance of one of the world's most hated women, looked like she was wearing a pair of gold curtains for a dress.  You would of thought she could of got something a bit newer, I'll expect there is a store wondering where it's Chrimbo decorations have gone.  Meryl darling, you really don't want to ever interview in the UK and comment on that film, next time your guaranteed an egg if not a cabbage thrown at you.  Ignorance is not an asset, you should of refused the script.  Stick to singing on hot islands in the Mediterranean.

When looking at the comments and reviews of the Oscars ceremony they are remarkably mixed.  Some people seem to have taken offence to Billy Crystal, some not even sure who he is.This shows the incredible spread of views and varying levels of ignorance.  Oops there goes that word again.  At least there is one thing which can be said, it was entertaining.  I nearly filled my puke bucket.

A happy drunk with an opinion or two

Last night I got blootered, or drunk.  I had been so good all the week, barely drinking or over eating but last night it stopped when I had slightly too much Guinness.  It was odd how easily the first pint went down, how good it tasted.  The other pints were not as good as the first one.  I rang up L & B man and got into a drunken chat with him.  He was sobre.  I wasn't.  But it's always good to talk to someone who is completely sobre and clear headed and make a nuisance of yourself.  I did and enjoyed it.  I would of rang Sparkling but she was at her Fish Factory and she also has s sixth sense about my talking to her when I'm pissed.  This sense means she ignores me.  I told L & B man how much I missed her, which was lots and lots.  She's at work again today and it may be a few days before I actually do get round to chatting with her.  The Guinness was talking and so was I.  Alcohol can be a bad thing in the wrong hands, but in the right hands it can be liberating, relaxing, chilling and bring out those deeper emotional tendencies.  Like the repressed English man becomes a liberated softy, wanting to hug everyone and laugh.  I enjoy humour and it's great to see the funny side of everything.  When normally it could be difficult.

I woke up early this morning and am not sure if this was a side effect of last night's drinking or whether I have just got into the routine.  Early rise and early work.  Toast, tea and radio four.  A listen to the world and how it is doing, a moment of catch up.  Though what is news to some isn't news to others.  As I wondered who it was who chose what would be discussed and presented as news.  For whoever it is they make decisions which influence everyone else.  What they consider to be important might not be so important.  Know what I mean?  Or am I talking dribble?  Some times I switch to a different radio channel and listen to other views of the world.  There's a chat show which is quite entertaining, it always seems to fly by as well.  People phone in to give their opinions and then the host will either entertain them or cut them off or even argue the caller is an idiot and then cut them off.  Chat show hosts have a lot of power, especially in their own shows. They then completely influence the tone and political leaning of the show they run.  They are not neutral.  Maybe this helps with advertising, but it also results in listeners changing opinions, especially those who can not think for themselves and accept blindly what another says.  I hope I never get to be a sheep.  Let me be a goat any day of the week, or night come to think of it.

When in the pub, one drinking companion couldn't believe what I said on a particular subject.  He thought because the legal system had said one thing I should believe it.  He seemed to get his knickers in a twist.  Then I hit him with the killer punch.  Everyone is entitled to an opinion and he had more than most.  It's odd turning the table on someone who then has to face their own form of discussion and doesn't know how to deal with it.  I walked out of the pub swaying from side to side, happy and entertained.  It's good having a band of people to regularly talk to, unfortunately this group is slowly disbanding.  Retiring or going to other pubs to drink.  If this goes on I'll be giving up the few pints I consume and going sobre.  Which is something to think about, or have a drink on.

A penchant for herbal teas, now for some home made fennel tea

At the Fish Factory I decided a few weeks ago to stop drinking coffee, fresh coffee from a cafetiere.  There were a couple of reasons.  Firstly it seemed to be doing something to my belly, as my belly is like a little ruler to the rest of my body I have to listen to it.  Quite a large ruler with the present size of it.  Then secondly because of my disposition.  The coffee could of been adding to the excitement of chopping up fishes and maybe not making me so good at concentrating, which I relate to the caffeine content.  I haven't stopped taking caffeine, but rather chose to reduce my intake.  So I have ventured into the world of different herbal teas.  Which may I state are overly expensive if you purchase them from a cafe.  A box of twenty costs about £1.20, while a cup of herbal tea in a cafe cost £1.20 in itself.  It's a no brainier.  Buy the box and make your own with a 90 percent reduction in costs.  The net result has been a slightly calmer frame of mind especially when everyone else is losing theirs.

My preference for these teas depends on the time of day.  In the morning I like a little bit of a pick me up so usually tend for a lemon and ginger.  The ginger has a slight hot tang at the back of my throat and the lemon is so smooth.  It is nice.  I might have two cups of this in the morning if I really need a boost.  Then there is a chamomile and vanilla one, because I'm worth it.  The vanilla is a nice sweet taste even though I consume these with no sugar, this tea just has a sweet taste.  It feels extravagant and like I am spoiling myself.  But this tea is a strictly one cup a day only for it is too rich.  There is also a plane chamomile tea, it has no whistles or bells on it but is like a standard cup of tea.  It is the marker of all other teas.  I also have a green tea and lemon.  Green tea tends to generally be a Jasmine tea and has a much closer taste to actual real tea.  This one is subtle.  I have once tried the mint tea, but for some reason can not get along with it, or was it the peppermint?  I don't know.  It reminded me of something old ladies would drink and so I have kept it at arms length.  I am particular about the ones I try.  I just keep them simple, none of the fancy stuff for me.  Then the other day I came across fennel tea.  Now I've had fennel with pork and therefore knew it would be a kind of aniseed taste.  So I tried this one as well, and yes it is slightly liquorish in flavour but it is also quite soothing.  It makes me feel calm, like chamomile tea can.

The thing with these teas is they are all in a locker in the Fish Factory and not at home.  At home it is a normal tea bag and some milk, then I'll usually go for two cups, one immediately after the other.  It's as though a single cup does not fulfill my desire.  I can only come to the conclusion my body is at this time craving caffeine and when I take two cups it is being stored up to get me through the rest of the day.  However, on looking into my cupboard of spices I noticed fennel seeds.  I got to thinking.  These are the same things in the tea bags so why not put a few in the bottom of a cup.  Poor in some boiling water and see what happens.  After all there is hardly going to be any other side effect.  I did.  The seeds then all floated to the top, they would not sink down.  There followed ten minutes of pressing the seeds with a spoon against the side of the cup so they would soak in water and lose any air.  They mostly sank in the cup.  Viola, it tasted just like the fennel tea bags I had in a locker in the Fish Factory, with quite a nice aftertaste as well.

I wonder if there is such a thing now as basil tea or even oregano?  Could this be another adventure into the realms of the unknown, me thinks so.  If it works I could go on  and make a mint.  I meant a lot of dosh, spondoolies etc.  All of which and no caffeiine in sight.

Vampires, Werewolfs, Zombies, Ghosts, Ghoulies and God

All of these things have two common factors, which firstly is their interest.  Vampires are fictional creatures who live by sucking the blood out of the victims.  It helps when their meal is alive because they have a thing about leaving behind the tell tale puncture wounds which usually are found on the neck by the jugular vein.  Fresh blood also has a better taste. Vamps are possibly afraid of holy things, like crosses, bibles - although I am not sure whether this goes for all domination's or even other holy books like the Koran. They certainly do not like to be staked through the heart and being they keep themselves under the radar they can live forever.  They provide great entertainment value and I believe they go back to Dram Stoker who in the 1800s wrote the original book called Dracula.  Dracula originated from the UK, Whitby.  Yep, no where fancy just some place near the sea in Yorkshire.  I'm told it is nice there as well.

Werewolves are completely different creatures to vampires.  They are humans who turn into wolves when there is a full moon.  They like to eat meat, again preferably their prey is fresh and running about.  I've not seen any at the supermarket lately so they must be quite shy or just possibly like vamps keep themselves to themselves.  It is believed their legend came from the ancient Greeks however, the name werewolf derives from Olde English, possibly.  Unlike dogs these creatures generally are not portrayed as obedient easy to pet dogs.  They are savage and incredibly strong, so are vamps by the way but vamps are intelligent, where as wolves are not in the same league and like to be in packs.  Humans who are werewolves are said to have good hearing and sense of smell.  Another name for a werewolf is a lycan (short form of lycanthrope).  If you are bitten by a werewolf you become one yourself, providing you are not shredded to pieces because they are an all or nothing and don't tend to play with their food.

Zombies are the lowest of creatures.  In they are not credited with any intelligence at all and are dead.  They like the werewolves eat flesh, again best if it is warm.  Anyone who is killed by a zombie is infected by their disease and will turn into one themselves.  Zombies because of their lack of intelligence are not afraid of anything at all even if their action leads to their second death.  This usually only comes about when they suffer brain damage.  Zombies are in a continuous state of decay and it is only by feeding on fresh living things they stay in their zombie state.  They move slowly, don't care much for their appearances and are attracted to noises.  There is a suggestion Zombies may have derived from voodoo, however there seems to be a blurring of the definition as voodoo (which could equally have been entered into the title) magic (again something else which could of been added) can transfer a spirit of a deceased person into a live person.  A lot of people believe this to be scaremongering, yet, I can't help thinking there have been some mornings when I have felt a little zombie like myself and it wouldn't surprise me if some spirit had jumped inside of my body.  I usually find a couple of slices of toast and a coffee is the antidote.  The origins of the zombie are difficult to pin down, there has been some pretty good films of them but they are probably less than 100 years old.  In western literature anyway, as for the voodoo, lets not even consider their literature because there is none which I know of, surprise, surprise and if there was it would probably be written in chicken blood then washed away by the next rainy day.

Ghosts are said to be the memories of living people.  Unlike the vamps, werewolves and zombies ghosts and ghoulies included do not have any physical existence.  They are like a mist.  They do like to influence literature but can only do so by popping up now and again as shadows in photographs.  There is no difference between ghosts and ghoulies, it's just the name ghoulie rhymes with scary and makes young people quiver.  Ghosts may have been about since the event of humanity, but it's hard to tell because there are no written documents from cavemen, or photographs come to think of it.  Nor in any cave paintings.  There was an upsurge in the ghostly ghoulie belief systems in the 19th century when spiritualism was invented by the Fox sisters.  They would do seances and ask the ghosties or spirits to knock if they happened to be around.  Then there would be a knocking sound.  The fox sisters confessed at a later date they had actually been cracking their joints and enjoyed the company on lonely nights in.  

God is something which people have a belief in.  God is a supernatural creature just like all of the above, but is also omnipotent and when humans die they hope there is a life after death and they go to heaven, said to be quite a nice place.  There is also a hell, where the Central heating is always full on and the spirits of bad people are suffer an eternity of damnation.  Yes, an eternity.  It's a long time.  It is odd there are many different religions and each religion alledgies their god is the only true god and no others exist.  Their god is bigger and better.  Many humans need the belief of a god as a way to help them live their life.  Whereas the belief of vamps or zombies is absolutely absurd the belief there is a God is not.  There are no captured photographic images of God because he, or she does not like to stand on parade and likes to leave humans to do their own thing.  This is called free will.  God expects everyone to obey him/her but doesn't actually speak to the public, only to elected special people.  These special people include the pope, George W. Bush and Ayohtolla Khamoenei, not forgetting Homer Simpson.  

The second common theme of all these fascinating creatures or concepts is, they do not exist but they do come to tea every Sunday, eat cucumber sandwiches and put their feet up.  After all it is pretty hard work inspiring imaginations.

The boring authors, four lumps of sugar not two please

Not only am I losing my hair, very gradually but my memory is on the blink as well.  This I found out again after my computer crashed on a Sunday afternoon and needed to have it's operating system re installed.  The number of hours it has taken to get programs put back on it and for the various million windows updates to be downloaded from Big Brother corp have been been ridiculous.  There's still more programs which should be downloaded but I'm just not getting round to finishing it off.  Fortunately the Flu thing is on it's last legs and fading away.  A bit like the improvement in the weather.  It's no longer in the minus degree C.  Thankfully.  When I went back to the Fish Factory today I was told of how many people had been off sick from the Fish Factory department, 66 percent.  A lot.  A hell of a lot.  Flu is a right bit of a slapper if you ask me the way she has been spreading herself around and quite indiscriminately.  Indeed.  I also rang up Sparkling because I hadn't heard anything from her today.  She's been keeping herself busy painting and painting must effect one's ability to text.  Then I enquired about her next week off work only to find it is actually this week she is off.  So this week when I should really be up North I'm down South.  Just to think Sparkling could of been looking after me when I wasn't well with the ManFlu as she calls it.  Which is another item to add to my forgotten things listing.  Hey did I mention about not remembering all those blooming passwords to those programs which need reloading?  No I didn't, but I have now.  I mean.  Like putting all my favourites back on my browser.  So I have to go and find the favourites I had.  Which isn't anywhere near finished either.  I wish I knew more about computers.  This old thing is definitely on it's last legs but has been really faithful and done a brilliant job for what it is.  I'm considering a laptop, but it may be a few months before I can get get one.  On account of things other than a laptop being higher priority.  Like getting a new memory, better get the handkerchief out and start tying knots in it.

I did lunch, which was a kind of running affair thing.  Stopped in Chinese had chicken and mushroom fried rice and then headed to the pub for a nice coffee, a sit down and a read of my book, before returning to the madness of Fishes.  I now ask the staff for four lumps of brown sugar with my Americano, and no milk on the side.  Four lumps because I keep getting pissed of with the crummy two small lumps they normally give me.  So this time round the four lumps I got looked like house bricks.  If I go there another couple of dozen times then one of the three piggies can have these to build his homestead with.  You'd also think sugar would dissolve, but hell no, after dropping only two of the four lumps in my coffee it seemed I nearly ran out of the remainder of my lunch break when they did dissolve.  Maybe these sugar lumps were actually mortar lumps.  Well, you never know nowadays with every business doing it's best to cut corners or hike up prices.  Let me say this coffee is extortionate and all just to get away from the maddening crowd and a little peace.  Which on this blooming occasion didn't work out so well either.  On account of two men sitting on a table directly behind me and then going into a diatribe about books.  It seemed one of them had already written a book and was about to write another, whilst the other was doing his own autobiography.  I couldn't tell you what the content of these books were or weather they even sold copies of them.  Just to say, they seemed boring and this resulted in my fishing out ear plugs and sticking them in my ears.  Well I wouldn't stick them in my nose now would I?  For goodness sake, if you are going to talk about writing a book bloody make it sound interesting and make it sound like you're interesting as well is what I say.  By the way, this makes me think I should get on about writing my own some time.  I can see it now, the lonely life of a man in a Fish Factory, who is losing his memory, suffering from contagious illnesses and enjoys four lumps of sugar rather than two.  It will be on the best seller list.  Mark my words.  OK don't then.  But it could hold some interest, perhaps, maybe, possibly.  It's how I tell them what matters.  Delivery, delivery old chap, people laugh at delivery.  Unless it happens to be s spine chilling horror.  Then their laughter might be a bit on the sinister side.  Who ever thought cubes of sugar could be such fun?  Not me.

Recovering from Flu

This morning Flu treated me with a different set of conditions, glued up ears.  Both at the same time.  It felt like I was under water and sound was muffled by a million waves.  But I've come through the worse of it.  I advised Sparkling she should really sooth my brow and call me "bunny" of course this caused a lol text in reply.  She's hardly the "bunny" supporting type she tells me.  Don't matter, I think I'm coming through now, I can see the light.  It helps when it's switched on.  So does a regular hot lemon drink, echinacia and drugs I'm taking.  Every little bit contributes.  Over the weekend it will be all plain sailing.  I hope.  Fingers crossed.  You can only but hope, these things take a course of their own and you're become the back street driver.

I'm beginning to feel like a prisoner now so it's about time to get up and out.  My belly feels bit and it's about time it was assaulted with exercise.  I poked my head outside of the back door, there's still patches of snow and ice about which stubbornly doesn't seem to melt away.  My head told me it's still blooming freezing out, it felt like minus four of five, but it must be warmer otherwise there wouldn't of been so much melted away.  There's some old paint brushes in a tin.  They are standing upright and the water around them is frozen solid.  I suppose the smart thing to do would be to empty the freezer, turn it off to save on the electric and store everything outside, there definitely must of been times over the last week when it was warmer in the freezer than walking in the open.  It's not particularly good to be sitting around all day long but still pushing the envelope of recovery can be a tenuous thing.  One step at a time.  I don't know how the poor dicky birds are able to survive this weather.  They must have some insulation in those feathers.  If we were born with feathers we'd either fly or live in the antartic.  It's getting so boring I'd rather be at the Fish Factory.  I must be on the mend.  I got to be.  To say something like that.

Come on weekend, lets be having you.

21 hours in bed with Flu, she was awful

I went to bed after leaving the Fish Factory early.  It was just before 6 p.m., in a fitful sleep interval by the shivers, over heating, dizzy head and constant coughing I then found myself half awake at 12:00 p.m.. I knew it was no good to get up and I had to continue through to the following morning.  I'd just had what on a normal day could of been my portion of slumber reality..  The next six hours were a lot more tossing and turning as Flu kept elbowing me, in the back, in the sides and she gave me a right walloping thump between the temples.  So inconsiderate.  There was no letting up.  One of my feet seemed to be colder than the other.  So I would more position, pulling my leg up once in a while and rubbing the cold foot.  It got cramp a couple of times as well.  Flu can stamp on your foot even lying down, it makes no difference to her she has no quibbles.  The next morning came and I opened the curtains, sun light streamed through the window and was like an additional electric blanket.  I just relaxed and drifted off into a land of stone dead fitful tiredness.  Beautiful.  I got up on the occasion because it was necessary to visit the toilet and about 10:00 a.m. rose just long enough to make two slices of toast and a hot cup of lemon drink.  I managed to eat one slice but had to force the second one down.  This was all I had eaten for 14 hours.  The dizziness was pushing me to the edge of stability as I held on tables, door frames and banister to get back to bed.  Once there my belly let out a groan of digestion it would rather be in a sitting position than laying down.  Flu made me feel a touch nauseous, but I overcame it and slept on.  A text arrived on my phone, I read it replied and dropped off again.  It was a necessary sleep, one where the blood cells were rallying to take on Flu and try their best to persuade her to go away.  Awake again it's now after 3 p.m. more than 21 hours of bed, but I can't live my life here I had got to get up otherwise sleeping could be more difficult later.

Pen to paper I write, go away Flu, you are awful and I don't like you.

Biting off too many books

At the moment I am reading four books at the same time, no maybe five lets list them

Something Happened - Joseph Heller (Story book)
The LEAN Toolbox (The essential guide to LEAN transformation). - J. Bicheno & M. Holweg (Management book)
The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People - Stephen Covey (Self improvement book)
The Enemy - Lee Child (Who done it book)
The 33 Strategies of War - Robert Greene (Strategy/management/history/war book).

There are a couple of other books I have half heartily on the go but somehow have stopped in the middle of them and marked the page with a post-it note.  Then there's the odd few waiting in the wings to be picked up.  When I do allocate time to read these books or take extensive notes from them the time is short and periodical.  Certainly in some cases not on a daily basis but more of a weekly or two weekly basis depending on the mood I happen to be in.  I don't know if it is only me but I would like to know if other people have the same problem.  Do they?  Or have I bitten off more than I can chew.  Even though I must admit to enjoying reading each of these books and know they deserve more.  The one problem I do come across is when I remember something I have read but confused the story line or the book I got it from.  Heller's book can't be mixed because it is pretty different from any thing else.  Child's book I have only started this week after buying it out of a charity shop for the fantastic price of £2.50 as opposed to the five or six quid it would normally cost and the story is again something far different from anything else so it can not suffer from overlapping syndrome.  However, the management books and self improvement books can occasionally become confusing as I read one of them and then recall something else quite similar but different in another book.  At which point I wonder if it is my memory failing me, whether I have a touch of mad-cows-disease or whether it was a dream I had which has somehow trespassed into my conscious memory because it has nothing better to do.  At this point I have a head full of written passages and no idea where they come from.  It's a wonderful insanity and I quite rather enjoy it.

The problem is I do like to read books.  But I do also get bored with them.  It's like I have some kind of attention-deficit disorder of the literary kind.  I also like the feeling when I can say I have actually read a book.  For example when I walk through a train and I see people reading books I always take in the title and automatically recognise if I've read it.  (Down with the E-Reader) If I have read a book but forgot the thing afterwards I can actually say yes I read it and usually I can remember the author.  Authors are important, in fact all writers are important.  Possibly more so than actors in a film but we only tend to remember the actors and take no interest in the scrip writers.  It's a shame if you ask me.  Then there are the books I have read on more than one occasion, these still bring me great pleasure.  For there is always something I come across whether a sentence, phrase or paragraph which hits me like a lightening bolt because it is either well written or says something in a significant way.  An example would be Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig, every so often I'll pick this up and re read it.  It's a book about quality and a man who is trying to stop on a road trip but at the same time wondering if he is having a mental breakdown.  Maybe it is a gender specific book.  A book men would read but women would not.  If anyone has a comment please add it.  I can't help it, I like it.  Sometimes I notice the books I read tend to be more from American authors than British ones.  Some classical British writers I just have not read.  Charles Dickens is one of them, Happy Birthday Charlie (he's 200 today by the way).

Perhaps all of this adds into my introvert personality type.  I'm the one who likes to sit indoors with a ... you guessed it good book, piece of cake and cup of coffee.  But I do sometimes try a read when having a more alcoholic type drink,  unfortunately this can lead to re-reading the same page or paragraph over and over again and still not knowing what it is I have read.  Coffee is far better.  If it weren't for the cake I'd certainly of said I had bitten off more than I can chew.

Being Human in the snow and TPS

Where do I start?  Well just seen the first episode of Being Human (a totally British production so screw you other English speaking continents who think they rule the world because the BBC actually does) it was fantastic.  Can't believe they have killed off three out of four main characters who had kept the last three series going, but they did and it looks like series four (not season four to an otherwise content) is going to be an out of this world experience.  Literally speaking.   If you haven't been watching it tough.  In the meantime whilst catching up on important TV I've also being researching the Toyota Production System (TPS).  To some people this is also known as the Thinking Persons System.  It's about how any organization can become a better more profitable organization.  Or a learning and scientific organization.  It's complex and helps if you have a Masters in I/O psychology, which I do.  But the thing is drinking home made JD and diet cokes does make the whole experience a little tipsy like.  Oh if only I was paid for the thing I like doing when I am off the clock.  Funny thing is, after about my fourth beverage I realised the TPS system is very much about Being Human.  That is being respectful to employees and giving them communication chains which were answerable directly to them when a problem arose.  Things at Fish Factory are going well because the boss is away.  It's great.  With a bigger fish out of the pond there is more water to swim in.  I feel so much more in control.  I'll admit to doing my best and ignoring the big fish's emails.  I'm naughty.  So what.  I wouldn't mind but they just have no idea of organizing a Fish up in an ocean. It's a matter of making the metaphors or similes congruent.  Fish off.  What else can I update on?  The snow is nearly all melted away.  Wonderful.  Bad news is a weather forecaster has said we could be in for a whole month of cold bitter mornings.  Well as long as the afternoons are sweet then I'll not worry about the mornings.  Now if I were a vampire I wouldn't worry about it, vamps don't feel the cold on account of their not being very human.

OK got to get to bed.  Last night I caught up on other essential TV and didn't hit the hay till gone mid night.  Then this morning I decided not to wake when my phone alarm went off.  The ring might be subtle but the body just was not responding.  Either this or I am having yet again another anxiety come panic attack at night.  Well us humans can't help it.  The alarm sounded off but my body cried out for more time in bed.  On account of a need to get seven hours sleep.  The body won on this occasion. I have broken the 30 day challenge already.  Who said it was easy?  No one, it's not, you try it.

Am off now.  A little dizzy but it shouldn't stop me from putting on my PJs and having sweet dreams, if not sweet then happy ones.  I can only but hope.  Sometimes the important TV just isn't so important.

A Snow Covered Morning for Davey Crockett

It's been snowing again, but the weather forecasters are optimistic this spell will all clear up in the next day or two.  The washing line has short icicles on it, there is also a peg but it's completely disguised by the snow and looks like a balancing snow ball on the line.  There's no wind so it is quite stable.  Drips of water around the house have created an immediate moat from the white stuff.  In Eskimo language there are more than twenty different words for snow, but I only know one, it's 'snow' and not really many others.  Sleet could be another then I've run out.  The news ran a short clip how on one motorway there was a seven hour tail back because of it.  I've seen a family of thrushes come swooping down into next door's garden.  They must of put out some food.  There are no pigeons about, for now.  Which is great.  I hope the disease ridden flying rats find someone elses house to sit on.  I'm still in my PJs and it's now 9:00 a.m.  Bam, Bam was going to come down and I was going to see my Great Nephew, I hope she decides to stay at home, it's not the right day to be out if you can help it.  I wonder what I should do with myself.  The question is do I stay in or do I go out?  If I stay in later this afternoon I'll have a mild case of Cabin Fever.  If I go out this little bit of a cold lingering in my head could grow into the flu.  Man or mouse.  At least mice are comfortable in their little cubby holes.  If I try and go for a cycle it wont be far.  If I walk my boots will eventually begin to soak.  If I see Monster Boy I'm going to get battered with snow balls.  Do I shave today or leave the bristle as a barrier against the cold.  Yesterday I suffered from cold face syndrome.  There are things to do if I stay indoors, it's just a matter of now getting out of my PJs and waking up to the world.  There is a layer of cloud cover making it appear dull outside, it's threatening.  The weather forecast was unclear if more snow would hit London.  Hell, I want to know if it will hit my street not just London.  I can tell a spell of sun shine would begin to melt it away.  This snow is not enthusiastic, it's clinging on to stay the way it is.  Just a couple of more degrees and it'll melt away, I can tell.  It would melt given the chance.  There is a trail of animal foot prints in the garden.  I know it's not Stinky the cat, he doesn't like this stuff.  Foxes no doubt and at least two of them.  I've become Davey Crockett now.  It's easy when the signs are there for all to read.  Four red indians travelled west, followed by a beaver and two raccoons.  They sat and had a meal, slept and then went off two hours before sun rise.  On account of the foxes waking them up.  Snow, snow, don't stay long, just go away and I'll be happy another day.

Time to get up.  I'm moving now.  There's a razor with my name on it and it's not for my legs.

Post Cards have stories

There was no overtime at the Fish Factory today so I found myself at a little loss of what to do with myself.  It's like being forced to slow down when you are going at a 100 miles an hour.  Funny, there are times when I wish I had more time off, then when I get it I moan.  So I took myself on a little walk, going to check out some stores and laptops.  I'd like to buy one, one day but for now just look at them and get a sense of what is on the market.  This investigative feeling tends to go away and come back again.  For the time being my old and somewhat knackered PC is still working.  It must be getting on for 7 or 8 years now.  I'll buy it a birthday card and talk nicely so it can be nice to me.  Which reminds me, I must back up the important data on it.  The walk was enjoyable but it was freezing.  After about ten minutes I began to lose feeling in my face.  Fortunately if I get frost bite I'm sure it wont change the appearance too much.  I got to the stores.  Enjoyed a good walk around and practise type on the different keyboards then headed back the way I had come.  It was still early in the day so I did some shopping.  Managing to buy a shower gel for 50 pence.  It was the cheapest one I could find.  I am sure a few months ago I bought an even cheaper one.  Don't matter.  Time was going slowly which meant I couldn't immediately pop into my normal Chinese for lunch.  I was doing my best to consciously hold back until mid day.  There's something a bit presumptuous about having lunch before mid day.  The thought of fermentable carbohydrates crossed my mind and to really change my diet.  White rice is so nasty to me but I still eat it.  In a delaying tactic as I had at least half an hour before mid day, I ambled around.  In one time consuming moment I then decided to check out the post cards in a shop window.

I think about the late Peter Hitchin.  I saw a documentary on him and one of the things it commented on was his ability to write up to three thousand words a day.  Some going.  In my wondering about book writing one point is quite salient.  It's to write about what you know.  Like the place you live in.  Looking at these post cards in the shop window brought a realisation there is so much material around, it's just a matter of having your eyes open, ears open and absorbing it in.  A walk down the road can provide more than enough material for a three thousand word essay.  The only other thing is being in the right frame of mind to write those three thousand words.  Sometimes it's not easy.  Just as there are days when I fail to BLOG.  It's because the day has been a repetition of the one before and it's as though nothing has happened.  The reality would be the 'observer within' me has not been switched on.  There's always things happening being attuned to them is what it is about.  On these repetitive days I've been invaded by the priorities of work not the observations of the environment.

So I looked at the window.  There were probably a couple of hundred post cards staring back at me.  Many were for accommodation, rooms to be found within about three or four miles of the shop.  I knew the areas they referred to and wondered if the rental prices were appropriate.  One common adjective was the word 'nice' as though some rooms are not nice.  Or some households are not.  Such as "room to let in nice house, all inclusive only five minutes from train station."  The inclusive bit does make me wonder.  In the cold weather how long would the heating be kept on with the price of fuel bills I asked myself.  A few cards were advertising the services of masseurs.  One was not in a rush.  They could well be coded messages for women selling more than just a massage.  I thought of a pensioner I know who became a qualified masseur.  What a surprise someone would get if they went to see him and there would certainly be no extra activities on the list.  Another card caught my eye and took my attention.  It said "generous employer looking for female assistant.  Must be between 18 to 25 and size 8 to 14."  I let out and audible laugh as I read it.  This could only be a man, and what were his intentions, what was it he wanted these female assistants to do?  I laughed more.  It seemed like a measure of desperation covered by pseudo legitimacy.  I expect only an 18 to 25 year old girl would be ignorant enough to think this was actually a genuine employer.  The things not said are just as important as the things which are said.  I read this in a book about body language, when interpreted correctly will give away more truths than what is actually spoken.  Each post card has a story behind it.  Each was written by hand, by a real human being and not printed off on a piece of paper.  A number said one thing but meant another, behind them all there is a story. 

We're expecting snow soon, which will be another story.  Where's my postcards someone needs to know this?

Time and tea

The time flies by quickly.  Today in a conversation with someone I said, the week had flown by and it was only Wednesday.  I was corrected, it was actually Thursday.  For some reason last night I went to bed at 9 p.m. I had just come over all tired and felt sleepy.  I've given myself the 30 day challenge.  It's where you do something consistently for 30 days without a break.  Three days have passed and I have managed to get up at 6 a.m. on each of these days and then did ten press ups.  You have to take it slow and easy.  There's no need in rushing things.  Rome wasn't built in a day either, but it's a start and I hope is helping me to feel I have gained back some control.  I don't know if I can keep this up for 30 days and I may well not, but it is the starting it which counts.  In part it's almost like counting the days until I next get to see Sparkling. 

It came lunchtime and I had bought sarnies from the shop, it was late so I ate them inside the Fish Factory.  It was a weird feeling.  I just felt odd because I usually go out at lunch time.  As well as buying sarnies I have been buying boxes of different teas.  On account I've felt taking caffeine may not be a good thing in a hectic Fish Factory.  You have to watch how those machines run and being too on edge isn't good for anyone.  My present range of drinks is Chamomile and vanilla, which has a nice vanilla smell to it, Ginger and Lemon, this one I think is good for the digestion and wakes me up, then there is boring Chamomile and I think a green tea with lemon.  The good thing is they keep me off the coffee.  Hopefully they chill me out a little.  Being chilled is an important thing in a stressful place.  Mind it is not just places, people can be stressful, events, noise, I suppose the list can be endless depending on who you are.  The more prone the personality then the more likely.  Looking on the Internet to self diagnosis can be even more worrying.  Think carefully I say to myself.  No I don't have leprosy or a brain tumour just because I can't remember anything nowadays.  It's the natural ageing process and none of my fingers has dropped off yet.  Which I guess is about creating your own stress when it is not necessary.  Some people I notice have a propensity to being chilled all the time, either this or they are just acting up.  I once heard it said, if you want to become something you have to act as though you are what you want to become, even if it goes against your inclinations.  Then as time goes on your first inclinations are subdued and the acting out ones become more real.  Interesting no?  Hussein Bolt strikes me as a chilled personality except he doesn't work in a Fish Factory.

OK back to the tea and contemplations of tomorrow, last day of the week,  I will get up early. Thanks to an alarm clock and the fourth day of the challenge.  Now what was I going to do?