Don't give me your specs i want my own thanks

When someone in a position of authority says something, it is usually taken what they say is true or factual.  At which point they then give an explanation and expect an answer to what they have already said.  Yet, the more I think about it, nobody should give an answer to a question which has long term effects.  Further it is necessary to do your own diagnosis.  Imagine going to the opticians, you tell the optician what the problem is, they listen for a moment then offer you their own glasses.  Saying these glasses have worked wonders for them over the last ten years, they are great, and it's OK because they have a spare pair, they like you as a customer and think these will sort out all your problems.  So, you then put those glasses on, well, you don't know for sure although there is a little doubt creeping into the back of your mind.  Peering at the chart you realise they are even worse than the glasses you had taken off in the first place.  You say this to the optician and the optician replies you have got to have faith put them on they will do the job.  Again, you put them on stare at the chart and with all the faith in the world do your best to will the glasses to work.  Nothing happens, they are still just as bad.  You say so to the optician and he feels insulted as he has given you his own glasses and feels you are throwing a gift back at  him.  The moral of the story is, you can not have a treatment or prognosis until you have done a full diagnosis of the situation.

There I was in a meeting of middle fishes and a couple of bigger fish.  The big fish were saying we are not up to date with our quotas.  Things have to change, has anyone got any ideas otherwise they suggested we would do things differently.  The big fish did not present any data, the situation was relayed verbally.  I could not believe what I was hearing.  I looked at my own data and it didn't add up.  The group went into discussion about the Olympics and didn't consider the further consequences of what had been said.  This evening I then went onto the official Fish web site, where the statistics should of come from.  The ones these big fishes were talking about and slapping us middle fish around the face with.  I found after delving down layer upon layer what I wanted.  The data published was 4 months out of date.  I am now seriously wondering if these big fishes have been to the wrong opticians. 

I'll not go into how annoyed I got when the bunch of big and middle fishes rather talk about the Olympics than discuss how in ten minutes they had completely reformatted the Factory on faulty information.  The problem is I hate making decisions fast.  They are usually bad decisions and this had become a bad decision.  In my eyes very bad. 

Tomorrow I will head into the Fish Factory with some Mr Magoo spectacles, in my pocket and ask each of the fishes if they would like to try them out.  Well.  Who knows, it might work.

What did the Athenian Gods think of emply Olympic seats?

Again this Sunday I got up and had a walk, it was good to pound the grass and feel I had enough stamina for another circuit of the heath.  Just maybe I am getting a little bit fitter?  A woman was jogging round in the opposite direction.  Jogging slowly and it seemed odd to me, because it takes more effort out of you to jog and takes longer to recover.  Why not walk I thought.  She was struggling, I could tell being an ex jogger.  Afterwards I headed for home and a little grass cutting.  The sun was out and it was so pleasant.  Should I view the Olympics after doing the grass?  Nah, why break a habit at this time of the morning.  The news indicated it would rain in the afternoon, and commented many seats at Olympic events which were empty.  A complete travesty for Locog, when considering how many people would of walked through fire to sit in them.  This is such a poor show.  I vacillated about whether to go out for a long cycle ride but with the prospect of rain I decided not to, I know the weatherman gets it wrong a lot, but for some reason I seemed to trust his choice.  After my walk I could see the clouds and had a feel he was right.  Were it to rain I'll go and sit through an earlier episode of BB I had not seen.

Within ten minutes of planting my backside on a seat, the rain came down, harder and with each passing moment harder still, so hard I thought it was hail.  The sky was punishing the ground, pounding it into submission.  This wasn't rain with soft relaxing drops which help you to relax, it was heavy, it did not want to blend into some sublime music, it did not want to be ignored.  No one was going to ignore it now.  This was vengeful, a pounding made to tenderise.  The sky got dark and then there were thunder claps, beautiful loud hard bangs.  Flashes of lightening lit up the room.  As if to say I am imposing myself on you mortals, each and everyone of you, take note, hear and feel my wrath.  The tears of gods fell and shattered on all hard surfaces.  Tears which could of been interpreted as saying this is an Olympic day and you dare not fill up seats to see the best athletes in the world compete.  Shame is now coming down upon you, be contrite, show your respect.   All thoughts of going out again for a bike ride were off.  Some other omnipotent beings had other ideas.

With exorbitant financial cost to the nation the organisers still wont allow the ordinary people to support and give it the respect it should have.  The Gods have it right.  Zeus was pretty displeased at this moment.  i sat there and thrust my fist into the air in agreement.  Yes, old man you got every reason to be pissed off.  I would if I were you.  How about raining some frogs, or even fish, a couple of large ones, big enough to fill up an empty seat or two, you'd get a bit more attention then my friend.  He sits down, shrugs and his brow is full of sorrow.  Have a sponsors Olympic drink or snack maybe you'll feel better I say.  Ooops, I think he's now marched off in a strop.  I know how you feel mate, I know how you feel.

The Olympics ate my brains help me BB

I finish at the Fish Factory early, hit a local cafe for lunch, with a Chinese theme.  Then head to a pub which costs a little more than normal to frequent.  I pull out my laptop for the second time ever in this pub, negotiate a connection to the Internet, which is the real reason i came in here in the first place and enjoy.  I'm sitting with my back to the flat screen TV because there is Olympics stuff showing and then from nowhere I am on a TV web site watching the Olympics opening ceremony, yes the Olympics at my brains.  Fortunately it was only a small part of it, both brains and ceremony I watched and had eaten, I survived, just about and am intact to tell the tale.  In the meantime on catch up TV I see BB in action.  It is a little bit of sanity which ran the same time as the big O.  In fact the eviction night was termed an Olympic eviction.  There being 8 possible evictees. But we all know before the program began the most likely candidate is a girl who is a bitch big style.  A silly girl who represents all the worse aspects of the upper classes, a typical stereotype who has typical stereotypical behaviour in every sense.  She'd win the bitch gold medal any day.  I could bitch about this contestant forever. It would not change her or me so I'm going to let it go, just like an Olympic javelin, or discus or some other Olympic object which is hurtled through the air at great speed for as far as possible.

As I said.  The Olympics has eaten my brain and I can't help having to repeat the word as frequently as possible.  I'll get over it once my brain starts to regenerate.  Which could be an Olympic effort.  I hope not.  Going back to Caroline.  I just can't help myself.  If she does get kicked out of the BB household then it will be a little boring.  Her bitchy nature is evil but something you enjoy watching.  She has spent the entire next week's shopping budget on chocolate goods.  With the strong impression she will get voted out.  And how right she was, because there is no way she'd be able to endure a full week with a house full of irate people who hate her selfishness.  At first it seems like a wonderful idea, especially to Caroline, and the initial laughter of being naughty on such a scale is infectious to viewers.  Luckily we are viewers because otherwise we'd all have a lot to say about her, to her, living off chocolate for a week is not a fun task.  It is an awful thing to do.  The result is anger, stewing anger by the majority of the house.  BB surely can not allow such a shopping budget to be endured for the week ahead.  Teeth will decay, weight put on, and malnutrition begin to set in.  I'd seriously consider taking a starvation protest against it.  I got a few extra pounds on my belly, so not eating will make me a little lighter.  Whether i'd be able to endure it I don't know, but the intention most certainly would be there.  But again just think of how much fun it would be if she was not kicked out and then had to endure the consequences of her actions.  We all know this didn't happen.  One thing she is not and that's an Olympic endurance athlete.

The count down takes place the doors open and Caroline leaves the household.  She is shouting with the crowd "get Caroline out, get Caroline out" it sounds like a weird defiance to the world.  Or the voice of a crazed woman who is doing and saying anything so as not to face her own guilt trip.  She's putting on a façade one which looks quite similar to mental illness and barely can watch.  She appears to have no insight into her own personality and the effects of her own choices.  She just doesn't get it.  I can see it was a favour to have kicked Caroline out of the BB house, I now have no doubt she should of been kept in there.  After all BB has an Olympic deviousness to get the most out of it's contestants.  A lot more could of been milked from giving Caroline ever worse tasks than she'd had before.  She is interviewed and shows no remorse, because she has Olympian selfishness, Olympian arrogance and Olympian denial.  How can such a person go through life in this manner?  I don't fully know, except not to give her the pleasure by being nonplussed by it all.  Then confessing to loving chocolate more than anyone else.

Olympics nightmare, another moan - go away

This morning was a nightmare when I put the radio on.  I love serious news items in the morning, I live for them, they are the food which helps kick start my cerebral day. So I plug in the radio, let it select the normal channel and it's a discussion about the Olympics.  Not so good.  A bit unlucky but I suppose expected, I select another channel, and again it's about the Olympics, being broadcast from the Olympic venue.  I selected channel after channel in need of talk radio programs but each blooming one was some version of news and discussion about the Olympics.  The weather forecast said it would rain this morning so I took an umbrella out with me and didn't need it.  But no matter what I did, getting away from anything about the Olympics was like trying to escape from Colditz which should be an Olympic sport.  It wasn't a great start to the day.  Considering I have to walk past a large screen public TV on the way to the Fish Factory.  A TV whose purpose is to follow every Olympic event there is for the general population.  Of all things I will not see the opening ceremony, I just could not care less about it.  Stop the whole thing and build some state of the art hospitals in place of it, then you will have my attention.  Don't get me wrong in thinking I am an anti-Olympic moany old git, I am not.  I love the Olympics.  My love is enormous for the Olympics, providing it is in a different country.  It should be in Mongolia, which sounds like the perfect country for the Olympics to me.  Far away but still watchable on TV, absolutely perfect.

I found out only the other day even cyclists will get a fine if they cycle in an Olympic lane.  I wonder how they will police it for cyclists?  London's taxi drivers also wanted to demonstrate against the Olympics because they have been excluded from using the lanes.  However, under some obscure act they banned the demonstration to a lesser part of London so it would have no effect.  The true fact of the matter is Londoners feel pretty unhappy about the whole thing.  Bile boils when it is discussed.  The amount of disruption it is going to cause for commuters is enough to ensure both the government and the mayor get voted out of office come their next elections.  Reason has not been allowed to be used.  Sensible suggestions have been swept aside as though they have no meaning to the great high and mighty command and control organization called LOCOG (London Olympics Organizing Committee).  If there is ever a group of people who have cotton wool in their ears it is this group.  If people get fined for using the Olympic routes and can not put up with the traffic chaos caused then they will find a way around it.  You don't have to be Einstein to consider the things disgruntled and annoyed people can do, and certainly to miles and miles of road which has special Olympic status.  There's over a 100 miles of it in all, and there are extra special lanes where no authorised persons can go.  It's all the brain child of a certain ex Olympian runner who has his roots in the wrong political party. 

Hell I just can't stop myself from moaning about the whole thing.  It's like one big moan festival.  There should be a help group for Londoners who don't want the Olympics to disrupt their lives, who want the old normal very busy and nearly but not quite chaotic London back.  For with the big "O" event it will not be the old London it will be a London which will be bought to it's knees.  London can not sustain road closures and special treatment for the very few.  Unless of course it happens the whole thing gets moved.  To Mongolia.  Then London and Londoners will be quite happy.  Bring back Genghis Khan I say, I sure bet he would have a thing or two to say.  I wonder if he likes self-help groups.

A little bit of Big Brother

Since being trapped at Sparkling's house and forced to watch Big Brother or BB to those in the know, I have gone from hater to complete addict.  Each evening I watch catch-up and see the episode from the day before.  Although this year's BB has been slated as one of the most bitchy, i have found it one of the most entertaining. There are two distinct groups, the larger in-group and a somewhat smaller out-group. Contestants slate each other off to their respective group or to BB in the diary room.  The dynamics between these are real life and a wonderful demonstration of what people are like.  There are also a few household contestants who are not completely in the in-group, they play on the edges of the in-group but don't fully commit to it.  The good guys are the out-group, they are good because their self assurance and identity comes from inside of them.  They support and have in depth discussions with each other.  While the out-group baddies just enjoy bickering and shallowness, they also dabble in bullying at times.  From a psychological viewpoint it is possible to see entire personality and group theories in play in this single show.  Which ordinarily would not get sanctioned were it put up as a piece of psychological research.  I could see an ethics committee blast it out of the water and sink it to the bottom of the ocean, even before the last word was read on the proposal.  Maybe this is why it is so good.  It's not sound research in any way, it is sound entertainment value, but in another sense it is also real life actual interpersonal dynamics and has a degree of validity.

There is the obligatory gay man who in this case is intelligent, sarcastic but true to himself (Scott) he has a reasonable chance of winning the whole thin by default rather than on full wonderful personality.  The super-bitch is a 19 year old girl who has come from a well-to-do background and is the most immature 19 year old I have ever seen.  Fortunately she (Caroline) is at last one of the contestants up for eviction this week.  At which I would not be surprised if she suffers from a mental break down when she gets evicted, plain an simple nobody in the country likes her.  Mind she is great entertainment when made to do nasty tasks which frighten her and make her scream.  You just can not help but laugh.  I gagged when she forced herself to eat a large fish eye, raw.  She hated every minute of it, but because she is such a despised individual it was karma coming back to bite her, if not keeping it's beady eye on her,  Should I say in her.  At one point she did have a moment of self insight and broke down in tears while in the diary room.  However, the self knowledge didn't change her.  Perhaps learning something revealing about yourself and changing how you act takes time and effort.  It will be a disaster when she is booed out of the house, mark my words, watch this space, I'll bet you a pint on it.  The last remaining black person is a man called Adam.  He is American, overweight and has a mellow bordering on deep voice.  He shows respect to others and thinks what he wants to think, he also doesn't like to hurt other people in his actions or words, he's considerate in this way.  If he doesn't get put up for eviction and lasts the show he could be a likely winner.  The pretend Alpha male of the out-group is a man called Conor.  But he just doesn't have it to be a real Alpha male.  He had a fellow male house mate and together they terrorised the house in various degrees fortunately his mate got kicked out.  Luke A, used to be a woman and decided he should be a man and had the full operation.  His story of how he managed this personal change hangs around his neck like an Olympic medal.  He's nice enough but to tell the truth a little boring.  There are other contestants in the house but I'll finish with Deana, a composed Indian girl who is independent minded although at times slightly edgy.  She's in the out-group and has suffered various degrees of bullying and racism, she has come through repeated nominations for eviction because the public keep saving her.  Otherwise she too would be boring to watch.  I've ran out of steam so will not bother with the rest.

Blimey, see how much I know. I wrote that paragraph with one breath.  The thing I can't help wondering as I'm sure most of the viewers as well wonder.  Is how well they would do were they put in such a house.  All the good and the bad of a person can come out.  The situation may be artificial and allegations of acting may crop up now and again, but no single person can maintain a perfect persona for 24 hours a day.  The mask always slips, even if it's just to have a good fart, which is a lot better than a good bitching session.  Memo to self, keep an eye on mixing starches and proteins, belly doesn't like them.

Looking good, or not?

I'm getting a little wary when someone says I am looking good and it's been a couple of months since I last saw them.  Then the time before they said exactly the same thing.  It's the cynical hat which gets dropped on my head.  Unfortunately sometimes when something is said you are not sure what to say or how to react to it.  I might of asked what was meant by it, the remark could of been innocent, or there could be an underlying barb.  If I were to look too deeply into it.  Heck I'd of preferred nothing said, then I would have no reason to get paranoid about my appearance.  Though I am desperately trying to get back my will power and self discipline.  Reading a book on willpower is helping me to understand it.  It can be exercised to make it stronger,  it can be used up because it is a limited resource and there are different kinds of willpower.  The willpower used for a short term goal of a few months or weeks is different from the willpower required for a life long effort.  Eating glucose when needed takes a roll as does making new good habits and breaking old ones.

Ok I'm feeling guilty because I need to lose weight, I should stop eating so much, simple, but difficult to put into practice.

Symptons of age, go away!

Sparkling has broken or chipped a tooth, it doesn't hurt too bad so she has an appointment with the dentist next week. She picks up the TV remote looks at it and wonders about making the phone call.  Something hasn't fallen into place.  It's a remote.  She realises and can't understand why she picked up the remote to make the phone call.  Although the remote and the phone are both black and similar to a degree it would be useless for phone calls.  I text Sparkles as I've been trying to ring her this evening but there is no reply.  Maybe she is out shopping or something I think.  I get a reply back from Sparkles, she is working and I should know this because I've already been told.  I can't remember.  Sparkles is worried if the dentist pulls the tooth all the others will then follow in a matter of time.  I'm worried my hair is falling out and going grey.  Sparkles has just had a new set of lenses put in her glasses frames.  I'm having trouble focusing properly with my own glasses on.  I have got to see the opticians, or rather make an appointment.  We are both starting to feel the effects of ageing.

However, there has to be a good side to getting older.  Besides waiting for entitlement to a free bus pass around town.  Then there is the ability fart at any time and without having control over it.  OK I'll own up to this one, and maybe it isn't an advantage of age at all.  But there is a certain perverse enjoyment which comes from a fart, except when you have to keep it quiet because there's people about.  Noisy traffic or other noises helps.  In polite society as you get a lot older people are kinder to you, but I'm beginning to think this does not exist in present society, for it seems a lot more of a rat race and all for oneself.  I've seen this become affirmed stereotypical behaviour with some groups.  Older should mean wiser, but this I disagree with because I've argued with older people who had weird opinions I could not agree with in any time space or universe.  Which is a quality of old age, being opinionated and not caring what other people think.  Old people are seen as slow and not with it at times intellectually.  The slow part is true and I'm the kind of person who would do things slow just to piss off other people, like putting shopping in a bag.  As for intellect, this is highly dependent on the individual.  Keeping a sharp mind is a personal thing, reading, writing and doing puzzles all help.  Watching too much TV and not caring about your own mind will effect this.  Then there is the ultimate race to the end of life.  In age the value of time and other people should be heightened even more.  I get to reflect on this even now and it does change me.  It helps me to let go of things which would normally wind me up. I let go because they should have no place in life.  Happiness does though, very much.

I am more prone to being content and finding contentment.  I admonish myself for being unhealthy and over weight then don't worry.  Or I'll make a conscious effort to try and change things, just as I am now.  By trying to sit up straight and not slouch.  I love the company of younger people and to listen to their opinions.  Mostly this will tend to be nephews and nieces.  If they talk rubbish I tell them it is rubbish and entice them to argue with me, I want them to develop, to not be afraid of an older person or with arguing with someone else regardless of their position.  I've seen low self esteem and fear of authority figures get in the way of rottweilers.  In the end I realise more often the biggest friend or enemy an individual can have is theirself and that other people will always let you down in some way, so always be careful of having too many expectations.  I can not tell what the future is for the UK or the world, the recession hits harder, but if I can use my age and understanding of things I might not lose my hair as quickly as I've seen others.  Hair today, gone tomorrow.

A Sunday exercise

I don't know what it is nowadays but each Sunday I find myself heading out for a walk. It is the most exercise I get all week long and I enjoy it.  Sometimes I see people who I have seen the week before also out on their exercise stint.  I walk up a hill through the woods, then cross a road and around a heath.  Twice round the heath and then head back home.  Last week the ground was still damp but today it has been sunny.  It wasn't too hot either, and as I walked through the wooded areas there was a nice cool chill from the shade.  I looked out for the elderly sikh man who raises his hand to say hello, but he wasn't out today.  There also seemed to be some kind of event happening at the heath as temporary steal fencing was erected cording off a large area.  Again this is a pet hate of mine, especially when people are allowed to restrict access to a normally public place.  Like, this is my zone, so don't you come in it, even though the area belongs to everyone, i'm going to build a wall and you can stay on the other side, so there.  I carried on walking around the monstrous obstruction wondering what was going on there and this group held something personal against me.  Yep the little paranoia head was speaking.  It wasn't just me who didn't have an invite to behind the steal cage most other people didn't either.  But you just can't help getting the you are not welcome feeling.  What is the world coming to?

I miss Sparkling Eyes and wished I could of given her a hug today.  She'll be at work all day and this is my day off.  It seems the only jobs nowadays are in the service sector and they are no good for private life.  Just as Layabout Lad has to work at the weekend as well.  People who attend the needs of other people give up a lot in their life.  Giving their opinion freely is one aspect of it.  Having to put up with bad manners and harassment is another.  I want to see her and don't know how long it will be before I get a chance again.  For the next two and a half months London will be ruled by the Olympics and this goes for anyone who works here as well.  If you want to get out of London, or go anywhere in London traffic is going to be worse than it has ever been before.  It will be a very difficult time.  It seems we are already being mocked by the French.  It's of no surprise to find the private security firm who were to provide all the Olympic security have been incompetent.  It's lucky we have an army on call, even if they have come back from doing a tour of some war torn country just to babysit an Olympic park.

The Olympics should of been scaled down, the whole thing.  We could of done it with dice, paper games boards and little counters to move around.  It would of been a lot cheaper, had little to no effect on traffic and could of been held in one large venue.  Like a local village hall.  The javelin could be throw the tooth pick, high jump replace with hop,skip and jump, swimming with who can splash the most in a bath?  With a little ingenuity most of the events could of be metamorphosed into their second cousin not quite the same but interesting.  The sponsors wouldn't of been able to control it either, and the board game could be sold on afterwards to make additional funds available to a country suffering from yet another recession.  It's not double dip but more of quadruple dip recession.  Every little bit of additional revenues stream could help.  They could of even reduced the Olympic flame to a special Olympic match box, then everyone could light up their little Olympic candles at home, just to get a bit more atmosphere.  The opening and closing ceremonies would be repeated millions of times all over the world and different each time.  The outcome of who won the most medals would also vary.  Unfortunately there could be no record of it.  The Olympics would be an unrecorded one but enjoyed in homes everywhere.  Shame we got the proper and original version and not a cut down paper one.

Come to think of it I should probably get out for another walk.  It's all a product of being stuck in the same position for a long time.  No wonder people are putting up fences all over the place.

The Olympic Flame, where's my bucket?

I saw the Olympic flame today.  The pomp and ceremony attached to it, the sponsors and not very large crowds who waved as it went by.  As an event I thought it mildly uneventful.  I wondered really was this an Olympic flame?  I thought in all reason it could not be, it was a flame which represents the Olympics, but not an Olympic flame.  It's fuelled by butane or some other gas.  Whatever it runs on is the substance of the flame.  A truly Olympic flame would be fuelled by a common material to Greece.  Olive wood, olive oil or some other substance.  I saw an imaginary discussion with people behind the scene and what they did when the flame went out just-like-that with no explanation.  In the Tower where King Henry's ex wives had stayed.  A beefeater on standby pulling out a lighter he had tucked in with a packet of ciggies from a hidden pocket, then lighted it up afresh for the next morning.  I suppressed my inner urge to get a bucket of water and throw it at the thing, the event and all the pomp.  All of which being part of the 9.3 billion pounds it cost.  Big Momma said to me in her own insight, "we have money for the Olympics but we can't buy a house for the homeless in London."  She's right as well.  Quite a few houses could of been built with this amount of money, quite a few people sheltered.  How difficult it was not to swing a bucket over it, full of water, but probably a fire hose would of been better.

Every moment I think about the Olympics and the cost of it to the UK bile boils up.  I know I should just get on with life and let go.  Yet can't help this irrational mood.  Or it could be it is not at all irrational.  Not at all stupid to ask questions like why are so few people actually going to see the events live?  Why have sponsors been allowed to completely hijack the event and hold London to ransom?  Why will every Londoner continue to pay for this event over the coming years?  And certainly in a recession could this money of been spent better elsewhere?  Defo on this point, big defo. Even a shower in the strongest acid known to science would barely scrape the surface of Olympic question and discontent, which will never be answered because it can not be clearly justified.  Shut up!!!!!!

Otherwise the day has been fine.  Sun came out for a while and warmed everybody up.  Birds tweeted in happiness of the weather change.  Then I met Layabout Lad for lunch and he told me about his job working at a Cinema.  It's his first real job for which he gets paid real money.  At minimum wage of course.  He is enjoying the work but finds he is in an ethnic minority, he's a white male.  He tells me of his experiences and how some of them have been pretty challenging.  How he has dealt with them and grown.  It is pretty amazing to see him this happy.  It's not a job I can see him doing for longer than six months at most, he would of out grown it and hopefully will move on.  The cinema is hectic and it seems training and support for new starters is near non existent.  Yet he continues and I'm happy for him because he is happy.  If he saw the Olympic flame and thought like I have then he'd probably have something to moan about as well.  For now he'll just take a free drink from the sponsors, well sponsors are good for some things, but not a lot others.

What is "how are you?" in Nepalise

I had three pints of Amstel, and am feeling pissed because I usually drink Guinness and when I drink Guinness it lasts forever, whilst Amstel has to be drunk quickly while it is still fizzing away and cold.  It just seems to have turned out this way and I wish I'd drunk the Gunnesss but it is way too late now.  Heck, am dizzy and happy and missing all those people I really love.  Heck.  I shouldn't get drunk because I get so emotional and love everyone, I really do mean everyone.  I want to laugh and cry all at the same time.  It must be that alcohol brings out those emotions which are too often held back.  Or possibly it brings them out and allows them to be tapped into, much too quickly.  It's like going on a helter skelter ride, I'm all over the place.  Worst thing is I have to hit the Fish Factory tomorrow.  Don't matter.  At least by the time I enter the building I would of sobred up a little.  The cup of tea I'm drinking now might help out a little bit.  Thank heaven's for tea.

I popped into the chip shop on the way home and the man behind the counter recognized me.  The usual munch is a portion of chips.  I was pissed, but he must of been open seeing me as someone who had been the on and off frequently.  He anticipated what I was going to order.  Simple.  Just one portion of chips.  Nothing else.  He got it right.  My hoping is eating chips makes you more sober, when in reality alcohol makes  you feel peckish and needing something to soak up what you've drunk.  Even if it only happens to be three pints of Amstel.  The  chips were in the fryer.  Which isn't a surprise because everytime I go there it seems they have to actually cook the chips because they are not ready.  The man behind the counter engaged me in conversation.  Being I was pissed I was quite happy to converse.

I found out he was Nepalese.  I always thought so on account of his skin colour, size and eyes.  It seemed to make sense.  You can tell these things after a while.  He must of wanted the company or maybe it was my charm offensive.  People just love to talk in the right circumstances, everyone has their own story of life, each one is different and well worth listening to, I know.  This man told me he spoke four different languages and understood three more but could not speak them.  Blimey.  They were Nepalese, English, Norwegian and Russian.  What an odd mix I thought.  Very odd.  Only English was the European language.  It is wonderful to hear when someone speak a different language.  I noticed as I entered the shop the Nepalese man shouted out in his mother tongue a sentence to me.  I repeated it and he said I was good in my pronunciation.  It was simple "how are you?"  The problem with being drunk is although you're good at these things you forget them pretty quickly.  Don't ask me now what it was because, yes, I've forgotten it.  Anyway I like the people who run the chip shop.  Even though I know eating chips is no good for me.  The people are good people, they are warm.  Warmth is needed in a city like London where everyone has a hands off don't come near me or I will kill you mentallity.  I should learn Nepalise. 

I think I will.  Just got to finish these chips of first.

The belt that never arrived

For weeks now I have been waiting for a belt to arrive off Amazon.  It hadn't.  In desperation I contacted the vendor, the asked I check with the neighbours and the parcel office.  I did.  It was an effort to get to the parcel office and only five minutes in checking.  Nothing.  I email the vendor now because I've had enough.  Although given the option of having another belt sent to me I'm pissed off.  I had put too much effort into going to the parcel office, so requested a refund.  I was irate when I wrote the email so it was succinct.  Actually a nice piece of writing after I re-read it.  No emotion, just fact.  I'm now going to get a full refund.  My trousers will however endeavour to fall down.

Feeling better and a sandwich

It is with wonderful delight I find my cold of the last few days is subsiding.  No more do I sneeze every two minutes, no more do I need to run to the supermarket and purchase another box of tissues.  It's wonderful, almost like being able to breath fresh air when being locked up in a room.  Which is another thing, the sense of smell returning again, but oddly I find my appetite is not what it used to be.   I just don't feel inclined to eat as much as I used to eat.  I still eat, but it's the amounts.  Yesterday I left half a pint of Guinness, today I ate sandwiches from the shop rather than going into a cafe.  This is a big thing for me as my habitual requirement is to eat hot food.  A couple of more days with the echinacea capsules, vitamin C and liquids and all should be healed.

Talking about food.  My biggest personal dread when the Olympics comes along is being able to get to my local shops and get lunch.  The dread is based on there being millions of additional people about.  People who want to take my seat in my cafe or pub, people I'd call trespassers.  When it's all over I will still be here but these villains will be gone, never to be seen again.  I'll be lucky if I don't starve to death when the events begin.  Ironically it could be at the end of the Olympics I'll be at my physical peak, having lost a couple of stone and walked everywhere.  At which point I could even be a record breaker.  One thing is sure, a slimmer looking me would give even Hussain Bolt a run for his money, especially if there was a hot meal at the end of the track, and I'm not kidding.  Just when the scientists thought running was about putting one foot in front of the other faster than anyone else, it's not.  It's all to do with the right motivation. hmmmm, yum.

I took Monster Boy for a walk this evening around a local urban lake.  It's only a mile in circumference.  He wouldn't stop talking.  He just went on and on and on.  I don't know what he had been eating or in whose company he had been.  Whoever it was they hadn't listened to a word he said all day.  Or possibly for the last week.  It was like he had saved it up and waited till he could spill it all out.  Just having someone to talk to for him was wonderful.  I thought my ears were going to drop off.  I kept saying "yes" and "is that so" and occasionally when he said something which didn't make much sense I'd question it and he'd have to think about whether what he said was a load of rubbish or not.  In the end as we neared his home I said to him I thought he must be all talked out and probably didn't have any more words to say.  Because I knew if he did talk any more then there would be nothing but silence, his lips would move but there would be no voice.  He considered this for a moment or two, and this gave me a short sweet delicious 30 seconds of silence.  I couldn't take any more after that and decided to go.  A sandwich was waiting for me, cheese and pickle.  Guess what?  I got home pretty quickly as well.

Another day of sneezing

This is the second day of all out cold symptoms, I've been sneezing like a wood pecker on amphetamines.  Then rapidly running out of tissues, drinking lots of herbal teas, getting different advise from people on what to take, one suggestion was Dragon stout, put in a pan warmed up on the stove and black pepper added.  I've never heard of this before and then I forgot the name and called it Dragon's Breath.  Quickly to be reminded of the correct name.  Getting into the Fish Factory early meant leaving early was on the cards.  It's silly really to think anyone can get away with not strapping an umbrella to their back in this weather we've had.  So it can be pulled out like a Samuri would reach for his sword.  It's a pity human's don't have glands which give off a wax on call.  Then we'd never have to worry about the rain.  If I recall rightly Dracula doesn't get wet in the rain, what a funny trait for vampires.  The echinacea pills have been popped like sweeties, the sooner they kick in the better, but then reading the bottle it states to take two to three of them up to five times a day, blimey talk about echinacea overdose.  A couple of paracetamol helped out this morning, but you are not suppose to have these with caffeine, the combination I've heard is not good for the liver.  Your own, not someone else's. 

I got to see the Talkatives yesterday and little Princess Talkative although only ten years old has taken on a growing spurt.  I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her.  It's amazing to see children grow up so quickly, it always seems when you don't see them for a while and then you do they have changed.  They were great company and were mostly well behaved.  Well to put it another way Mrs Talkative didn't shout at all at them.  Which is the one thing of great annoyance, shouting at kids.  There should be some kind of law against it, it don't work, they carry on doing what they want to do so it's not worth it. Parenting skills is probably what is needed, compulsory ones followed up by the parenting police watching to see if they can handle children.  I really don't know how human kind has managed to survive with all the hang ups parents give to their kids.  Some you might think should never be allowed to have children but they do.  Other's want them but never can.  They bring a moment of happiness while young, and worry and company and all of those things in between.  The good thing though is if you're an uncle then you can give them back at the end of the day and remain the best uncle in the world.  I'm a moody old git so fortunately they don't get to see me being a strop.  But I do my best to curb it.  It's not nice being moody.

Sparkling has advised me she is going through the life change and it is official.  Blood results indicate she's got the menopause.  It accounts for the hot and cold flushes, the aches and pains.  She checked out a web site for symptoms and of 34 she had all 34 of them.  Sparkling then went on to tell me there was a help line for men and special help groups to get them through it as well.  Blimey I thought.  Not only do women go through it but men have to go through it as well, no wonder we get more sensitive as we get older.  It's one of those other things to think about.  There's always something to be bothered about, or not.  I advised the Oldest Talkative lad on girls, because he is in a relationship with a girl who is pregnant.  It seems she has him under her little finger, and she is keeping an eye on him.  It's not his child.  I don't think he realises how brave he is taking on the responsibilities, he probably hasn't thought about them at all.  He's probably just enjoying being a young man and having a girlfriend.  But what a hell of a learning period he is in for.  I told Sparkling about this and she at first thought I was the wrong person to advise anyone about women.  After giving my side of events, I think she came round to understand what I was saying.  Anyway any man who has been in a relationship for a number of years would of learnt something from it.  I hope all goes well with Older Talkative lad, he is after all just a lad and still likes to do lad like things, but will be thrown into the grown up world of real adulthood very soon.  They don't live together and have only been going out for three or four months.  It will be very much of watch this space and see what happens.  Whatever it is, it's definitely an adventure.  Good luck mate you will learn a great deal in a very short time.

The cold is here to stay for a few days.  I'll be happy when it lifts.  The Olympics are going to start in 11 days and everyone in London is gearing up for it.  Particularly the expected travel chaos it's expected to create.  I personally couldn't give tuppence for it because what the Olympics should be and what it has become are two very different things.  It is now dominated by sponsorship and real people can not afford to see it.  Something is wrong in the world.  It's said Londoners will be paying for the Olympics legacy for years to come, and we can't get a free seat.  Shame on  you IOC, and an even bigger shame on the sponsors.  Short term gentrification will descend on the East London area, which probably ranks as one of the most poverty stricken areas of London you can get.  Damn I'm getting depressive.

It's the cold and the rain which is doing it.  I should pop another pill and start checking out help sites for partners of women going through the menopause, just as Sparkling says.  It looks like I'm going to be having a learning experience as well.  Not another one, blimey.

Got a cold achoo

My eyes are streaming, ears feel as though they have enough cotton wool in them to fill up the Grand Canyon but there's none there at all.  I'm sneezing, coughing and having problems focusing my eyes because they are so watery.  I've had two echinacea pills already and will finish the night with a third hoping their magic kicks in soon.  I got tissues at the ready like a gun slinger at the OK Coral.  My head feels thick and fuzzy, the tinnitus is coming in and out of perception and my head just can't work out whether I should have a headache or not.  It's just in some complaining nomansland. I want to sleep it off and wake up tomorrow completely healthy fit and fine but think it is with me for a couple of days.  I'm wheezing.  What a bag of contentment to be in.  But am happy.  Life is good even with a cold.

Monster Boy is learning to Blog

So yesterday I saw Monster Boy and told him about blogging.  How I enjoyed writing a blog and didn't care if anyone read it.  Which is a little cynical because we all like to be popular and there's a hope in the back of my mind that people do actually read what I write and they like it.  But I've only got three persons who follow my blog.  So It could be it's not actually working out at all.  So, i says to Monster Boy blogging is about writing for yourself and not caring.  It's a stream of thoughts the reason you do it is because you want to and enjoy doing it.  He got a little bit interested.  At which point I advised him about the use of pseudonyms and never talking about anyone by their real names, ever.  Also I told him about places, because he should not identify where he is but he can make up a fictional name about it.  Saying London is fine because there's six million plus people who live here.  Monster sat down and asked me to help him go through a few bits on how to find a site to blog and getting started up.  I had to leave abruptly at this point but I knew he is a smart kid and would be able to follow instructions on the web site he used.  It's not rocket science, just some people think it is and put up barriers, psychological barriers to suggest they are incapable because of the fear of failure or rather fear of success.  It's easier to be self deferential in a down beat way.  It's part of the UK national psych.  Except those not from the UK probably don't see it as such.  Today I saw Monster Boy for a brief moment to see what he had done.

He is crazy about Star Trek, Doctor Who and anything Sci Fi.  His life evolves around it and comic book characters.  He knows everything and loves to share this information with everyone to prove he knows it.  He even goes onto Wiki encyclopedia and there he updates facts when he find they are wrong and adds extra bits.  All of this for a kid who is only just 12 years old.  Monster pulled up his site for me to peruse.  It was very good.  He created a photo montage of scenes from Star Trek as his background.  Gave himself a Trek related name and posted one item on it.  He then showed me how many hits he had.  I was amazed that one just put up brand new site had 40 hits already.  I'm lucky to get 10 in a day but he had a multiple of this.  His blog was just a pre amble about how he wanted people to read it and enjoy.  There was on this occasion no real text about Star Trek.   But this is the start.  What a wonderful first effort it was.  I was amazed and told him it was good.  I'm hoping he will continue with it because it is not just about being a Sci Fi fan it is also about improving his spelling, writing skills and communication skills to the rest of the world.  Without realising it this could be a better teaching tool than sitting in a class listening to what a teacher has to say.  As they say, learning should be made fun which is something a lot of educators have forgotten about.  If only work was fun as well I say.

Monster would love to go to the American convention called comic-con, just as he is because he thinks he would be able to challenge a lot of Trekkies with his knowledge.  He thinks they would be impressed by him.  I advised he did know a lot but the Trekkies also knew a lot and what he needed to do was to start saving up for the ticket.  Unfortunately he wanted to go now to show his knowledge off and then got disheartened because by the time he had saved up he said he would of grown up into a bigger boy or man and they would not be so impressed with what he had to say.  Personally i am always impressed with what he has to say. Of all the things Monster Boy has, it is an opinion, and he has many of these opinion.  In an aside, during one of my beating up Monster Boy with a tickle I said as I had other nephews I could chop up Monster Boy and put him into pies.  It wouldn't matter because he was one of a few others.  However, I also said it would probably be a bad idea because as soon as someone went to bite into the pie it would argue with them.  Monster found this very funny and laughed at the thought of an argumentative pie.  If Monster had another pastime it would be debating and arguing, which he does with anyone, as though he is not 12 but rather 42 and knew everything there is to know in the world.  He certainly has a lot to learn, because the more you learn the more you realise you don't know so much after all.  I hope he enjoys going on to secondary school and then takes on the world.  Probably dressed up in a Trekkie uniform and a pair of pointed ears.

Aunty Insomnia

So there I was yesterday blogging about how difficult it was to get some peace and the evil of interruptions, and today I'm at the Fish Factory, with hardly anyone around me, in a quiet office and unable to get on with what I should be doing because I'm now procrastinating.  The old Devil Mr Procrastination had perched himself on my shoulder and kept whispering in my ear "do this, do that, not what you're supposed to do," the thing was he won out a few times.  it could be because after a week of madness I'm exhausted with it all and just want to do something else.  Besides work.  Or it could be because I woke up with less than four hours sleep and was unable to drop off again.  It was the madness of Aunty Insomnia who had visited me.  I lay in bed just hoping by some association laying in bed would give me something like sleep, which it did not.  So there's no surprise when i eventually got to the Fish Factory and did half a morning's work I was feeling tired.  I need exercise, which always does manage to help me drop off.  Even if it's just a little.  Exercise is like garlic to a vampire an Aunty Insomnia is a vampire of sorts, she's there to keep you vigilant, alert, in those wee hours of the morning when the monsters come out and want to steal you away.  But they can't because you're awake and ready for them.  In such circumstances Aunty Insomnia has her place.  She is a valuable tool against the horrors of the morn.  Except for the fact such horrors do not exist because they didn't stop me from getting up going to the toilet or doing anything else I wanted to do.  These horrors are the stay awake thoughts of an insomniac.  Thoughts about nothing in particular, thoughts which make the bed not quite comfortable enough.  Whatever gland there is in the brain which kicks out sleep hormones wasn't working.  Certainly not last night.

By some telepathic sympathy, Sparkling to did not have a decent night's sleep either.  It could be a combination of her hypertension and knowing she had to start work early.  She was on the 8 a.m. shift this morning, and then is to do an evening shift this minute.  Today may be part of the weekend for most people but for some it is the start of the working week.  For some who do not spend the weekend chillaxing.  I hope she has a good sleep tonight because she will otherwise be exhausted and she needs it. In the end we are all going mad in various degrees, but usually for different reasons.  Aunty Insomnia can be one of those reasons, it's the reason why you hit the workplace and feel tired out with no energy and could kill anyone who wants to get on your nerves.  I don't think Sparkles has killed anyone yet but she does have high blood pressure, this worries me.  I want Sparkles to be in the best of health and to not have insomnia more so than myself.  If it helps I'll volunteer myself to take on her insomnia just so she can sleep.  Which I have done at times when the cat has decided at 2:30 a.m. he wants to get up have a bite and go out for a bit of play time with the other cats.  If an animal can suffer from the attention of Aunty Insomnia Sparkling's Olly (cat) certainly has it.  Then Olly does spend all day sleeping on every soft cushion or surface in the house he can find.  No wonder he's nuts.

I know I am not getting enough exercise which is probably the main key to getting better sleep.  It has been raining every day for the last two months so it doesn't help the matter.  Yes I don't let the rain get me down and actually don't really mind it but it is another excuse I can throw in the bag and blame on old Aunty.  Further I am not getting any younger.  Now if there's a cliché that sentence is a cliché and is axiomatic.  Nobody is getting any younger if they were then they would of tripped over the fountain of youth and the world would know about it.  I don't think anyone in their right mental state would want to live forever, but they would certainly like a good night's sleep three or four times a week.  Damn.  I got to get out more.  The secret could be getting physically tired so as to evade Aunty Insomnia, because then no matter how much she bangs on your bedroom door, nothing can be heard, because counting sheep is in progress.  Yet it's not just physical tiredness which is important.  The head has to be switched off so it is not generating thoughts of any kind.  Mind exercise is also needed.  If I don't mind, neither will Aunty.

Chillax count from 1 to 10

The Fish Factory has been stressful.  Very stressful.  It is loud and difficult to work in because the work requires substantial cognitive functioning and it's too noisy to think.  In addition there are constant interruptions from people who should have the initiative to find out their own answers, who are paid more than enough for the local area and do

The entire workforce has been moved to a new building to work.  It's called the extra large, square boxed, chicken farm.  Officially it has been awarded various prizes for being an energy conserving building, however it is not a building made for people to work on.  The nature of a chicken farm is to get as many chickens inside roosting and producing eggs as possible.  Human being are not a great factor in this.  The building cost a mere one hundred million to construct, or so we were told.  It houses about between two and three thousand people. Because it was made for chickens there has been no real consideration of the environmental factors required for human beings to function.  There are two sinks on a floor of 300 plus people where they are expected to wash up their utensils.  If not those utensils can be put into a dish washer.  However, the dishwashers are not specially designed ones which can take repeated opening and closing, so of three dishwashers in one area two have already broken doors. 

Sound as mentioned has now become a torturous item.  The ceilings are concrete arches, there are few soft furnishings and there are no sound dampening devices anywhere.  So sound travels.  When groups of people are put together and some groups tend to talk a lot while others do not because talking would be detrimental to their working.  Personally I have taken to wearing ear plugs and ear muffs looking like an odd ball but having little choice in the matter.  It is difficult to keep a train of thought. Interruptions are not constant they are incessant.  I now find myself getting angry and unable to cope with this situation.  It is a nightmare.

While trying to get over this madness I spent a couple of hours in the pub.  There a man said to me there isn't a requirement to give an immediate answer on most things.  It is better to count from 1 to 10, to calm yourself first.  It was the best bit of advise I could of been given unfortunately about 12 hours too late. 

Relax chillax, 1, 2, 3, 4,....feel good warm thoughts and nice fluffy bunnies, 5, 6, 7, 8, ....who are those men over there with that nice white jacket they are holding?...9, and 10, that's it.  Just chillax.

Rain and BLOG views

As it rains more and more outside, it seems there is a greater frequency of BLOG views.  How the two can be connected I don't know.  Statisticians would call it a correlation, which means both are trending in the same direction but it doesn't mean they are causal.  What I do understand though if it keeps raining I'm going to get my arm bands out and put my keyboard away.  All I can say is this little fat man had better have some air in his lungs.

The World of Big Brother

I don't suppose George Orwell had any idea when he wrote his book "1984" the term Big Brother would be used commonly in a TV show.  Which reminds me I must put in an order on Amazon and re-read it again.  Georgie was a great writer.  The concept of the TV program is in part close to the notion of 1984 but on a minute scale.  Rather than an entire world it takes place in a house.  In real life today travelling through London you image will be recorded on multiple cameras, perhaps even in the hundreds.  This may sound at first to be an exaggeration, but it really is not.  In every form of public transport there will be multiple cameras.  Buses have three or four, trains now have cameras in every car and as for taking the tube there is not a single foot step from one tube to the next which is not recorded on a camera.  Walking in or past a shop may result in being recorded, and you can guarantee your mug is picked up at every ATM used.  London is said to have more security cameras than any other capital, so there's another set of images.  Then to consider your image would be recorded twice, once going through London and once coming back.  It's therefore unavoidable.  So it stands to reason every time you step foot outside make sure you combe your hair.

As I watch the contestants in the Big Brother game show, I get to know their faces and behaviours.  They become familiar.  While groups are created as small cliches prefer each other's company it's possible to see how they then perceive those who are not part of the in group.  Although it would be easy to say their perceptions are flawed they are not.  What they experience is real whether on camera or not.  You can not act up to a camera every minute of every day so the true you, whoever the you happens to be will leak out.  What we all like to see though for our own pleasure is the bitchiness, lets not beat about the bush.  Yet bitchiness is one person giving their honest perception of another person, or perhaps false perception because they are playing the game and want other's to see they are not as bad or are as bad as they are.  However, of all things I can't help think being in the Big Brother house is in many respects a trial of self understanding.  One which can be very hard to do.  For there is no escape, you can not always hide from people you don't like.  In the real world yes, in the fictional Big Brother no.  A true test of character is to see how each individual copes and particularly those individuals who had built up strong relationships with other persons only for that other person to be evicted from the household.  It teaches one thing, no matter how much friendships can be mutually supported there is always a time when they do not exist and at such a time personal strength will mark the individual.

George Orwell's book was written in 1948, he reversed the last two numbers for the title of his book.  But it was not submitted to the publishers until 1949.  All is never as it seems.  George Orwell is also a pseudonym, real name Eric Blair.  He wasn't a posh writer, one who lived in a nice house and sat in a room to write in comfort.  Eric dived into the world of poverty and wrote essays on what life was like for the working classes of Britain.   Funny even in his book 1984 there is poverty and cohesion of what keeps people together.  Whilst in a TV program life is someone laid back and certainly not poverty stricken.  Particularly when remembering the winner will walk away with £100,000 quite a nice sum.  Not including any TV endorsements they make, shows or other spin off from the celebrity-ism of sitting in a house and actually not doing anything productive to society.  A bit like the bankers of today in some respects.or the wives of footballers.  Which is what Big Brother does, it gives temporary stardom to people for not doing a thing.  Maybe it makes me just as bad as I sit glued to the box each evening watching how they interact, or it could just be I am an observer of human behaviour, or maybe I just like to be a fly on the wall to a good bitching session.  Lets just hope there's no sticky paper about. 

Is the rain so dreary? Me thinks not

I'm back from Scotland and in London again.  The one thing they both have in common is buckets and buckets of rain.  The latest news is this has been the wettest June on record.  I think there was one day of sunshine up North.  When it happened I sat out in the garden and had breakfast with the dickie birds cheeping all around me.  They wanted a bit of my toast but were not having any as far as I was concerned.  These rare occasions of sitting in Sparkling's garden are to moments of pure delight, I store them up in the back of my memory closet and pull them out every now and again.  Just like the time I was in Portugal with Sparkling, sitting on a beach, eating a just barbecued sardine, the waves lapped at my feet, and I stared out at the old style ship anchored just off shore.  Sparkling came up to me and gave me a hug, my eyes welled with emotion because it was so beautiful, sunny and a wonderful get away from everything.  It had been too long since our last holiday and that one reminded me of their value.  However, if it rains it's not the end of the world.  Why we treat it as though it is I don't know.  Frankly speaking, tagging your emotions on whether it rains or not in the UK could create a long bout of downcast blue feelings.  So get over it.

It is a good time to take note and to Get Things Done.  This is the title of a book I've began reading.  I really must read a lot faster or spend more time reading the thing.  It's a good book and I've only just read over 30 pages.  But I like to really have a good think about what it is that goes in my head.  Whether I agree with it or not.  Just as you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, with it's content you should judge it this is perfectly allowable.  Unlike some people who pick up books just because they happen to be the best seller at the time and everyone is raving about it.  I tend to pick up books which have been a best seller 10, 20 or 30 years ago and so have been critically discussed since.  Good literature will always stand out.  Good literature is the kind of thing to put into your hands and read on a rainy day.  I have noticed something though.  When i am reading a book, there are usually thoughts, concepts and stories in the book and this gives me material to talk about them.  To people who may not have read the book so they have to listen to what I am saying.  Which doesn't mean when i talk to people they stop listening to me, except for Sparkling who at times will quite clearly yawn and cognitively poke me to change my attention to her.  Or I can chat as long as I'm doing something useful, like giving a foot massage and she can tune out to the TV or a glass of wine.  Again the perfect things to do on a rainy day, or rather evening.

If it wasn't for the amount of rain we have in the UK our grass would not look as lush and green as it does.  It doesn't take too long when we have a bout of drought the grass goes parched and brown.  Turf gets really hard under foot and everything becomes unbearably hot.  I'm sure the US would love some of the weather we are getting at the moment, because I hear it is hitting the 40s in some areas.  Constant rain does not kill people, OK it may make a few of us sad, but this is silly.  If you think about it a bit of rain is a good thing.  I'll accept flooding is no good and can be dangerous, I accept it can prevent you from doing a lot, but equally there are still a lot of things which can be done.  If it's raining and you're reading this BLOG you are using your time productively and defiantly.  Because some things can not be changed it doesn't mean they be allowed to dominate how I feel.  So I'll go against them.  I'll disagree, be argumentative, even if it is with my own self and pull my own socks up.  Which brings me to my next point.

While watching the ladies singles final at Wimbledon yesterday (Williams versus Radawanska), there was a period where Williams had lost it mentally.  Or so the commentators were saying.  She had allowed Radawanska a chance to get back which led to a thrilling second set and Radawanska drawing even.    Williams just kept making mistake after mistake, points were being given away and anyone will know of all people Radawanska is well known for making fewer forced or unforced errors than anyone else.  Then came the turn around.  The set had finished and Williams had a moment where she got her point and screamed victory.  The scream had a startling effect on Williams psychologically, she was kicking herself up the arse.  Williams became very determined and channelled her aggression actively, calming, making herself focused.  After which followed an exceeding quick third set which she one with a lot of big hitting serves to boot.  Radawanska, just could not contain or weaken Williams strength both physically and psychologically.  Williams won her fifth title.   She refused to allow herself to be overcome with negativity, she refused to allow herself to make errors, she had gone into a highly focused zone.  I think even if she had lost, the one thing she would of known, was she had lost to a better player rather than to her own mistakes.  This is probably the ultimate in any life event.  Knowing you have done your best and bought meaning to it rather than letting the situation overcome you.  It's not easy, but then it never is.