Back at the ranch

Am back in London again. I could tell the difference almost immediately, it's warmer and there is no snow. So I sit with my Bertha (Ukulele) which is pronounced oookulele by people from Hawaii asking myself the question, shall I give her a strum tonight, yes, I will do.  Just a quick fingering, a little plucking here and there. I've nearly got the Dueling Banjos (from the film Deliverance) off pat. Bertha is on the agenda. There are so many things to learn and get skilled at when playing Bertha it's just mind boggling. Producing music, or something close to music is a reward, but it's not quite right. You get a feel for the thing, or an ear for it. Like when a string doesn't vibrate and echo correctly. It should be a crisp sound and not resonate with too much twang or be a dull thud. This is mostly down to fingering the neck, or rather the frets. Frets are the spaces between each metal bit on Bertha's neck. I really am liking my sessions with Bertha, because learning to play her is so different from everything else I do. It takes my mind of things, or rather it demands something different. Maybe it's an appreciation for music, after all everyone loves to hear music, songs, pop, whatever, everyone has a universal liking for some form of music. And hell the Ukulele isn't a big daunting thing like a piano, or a harp. It's small, demure and comical in nature. It makes you want to smile. Even more so if you happen to be George Formby. Bertha is going to be my bridge into the musical world, but she's going to take time to get acquainted with. Sparkling has even jested I'm more interested in Bertha than I am her. She knows this is not true, there's no comparing the pair of them.


In the mean time I check out face book to see if my help requests have been granted by those I love, the little helping hand needed to step up another level of Candy Crush. I noticed Rock Chick didn't sent me help. She's this way inclined. Rock only likes to win a game if all the cards are marked and she can read the markings but nobody else can. She's scared just in case I catch up. My memory goes back to the short fat pink trunked image of me she created on her wrestling game consul, I was constantly whooped by her on every game I played. It took about two hours of game play to realise I had no skill level at all, but her's was the highest possible. As for the flirtatious camp walk my character had as he walked to the wrestling ring, I couldn't do anything about this either.  In Candy Crush Rock is at about 40 games ahead of me so it's unlikely I'll get anywhere near her in the next few weeks. I blame it on Sparkling, she first refused to help me out and has now leapt forward, claiming I was copying her, it was her game not mine.  Now after about a month she is probably 50 games in front.  Rock takes after Sparkling in many ways. I've now asked Rock if she would help me onto the next level, I threw in a bribe and said I'd send her help whenever I could. She in turn called me a creep and asked if my anger issues had yet led to my custodial sentence after murdering anyone at the Fish Factory. They hadn't, not till now, and she still hasn't given me help.  Someone please get me onto the next bloody level of Candy Crush.

When I was at Sparkling's I managed to get control of the cat. Control in the sense Olly (cat) didn't wake me up five or six times at night so as to be let out into the garden or to feed him biscuits. I think this is a major achievement in the sense of all things. I may have just moved up in the food chain a notch. Or only partly. He still requires some attention some of the time. Even if it is from the visiting L & B man. Who blows smoke into Olly's face, but Olly has got his measure, all it takes is one stray cat hair and L & B man is a jabbering wreck. Well partly on account of his cat allergy, or rather cat hair allergy.  And it's not so much of the jabbering but more of severe eye watering and sneezing. Funny how a tattooed man sneezes a bit girly like. Yes, Olly has him in his sights. I'm sure glad I have no allergy, just the occasional sleepless night instead.

Back at the Fish Factory today all was as expected. Mountains of fish to catch up with and some of them stinking pretty bad. I was chilled on account of returning from Scotland and being a little sad.  But I soon picked my self up this evening after a quick chat from Sparkling, before her TV schedule kicked in and I was punted. Love over hundreds of miles has no meaning when an episode of the Undateables is on TV.

The snow is melting

The snow is melting at last, it may only be a few degrees but there's a constant trickle of water. The snowman I built with Sparkling in her garden has shrunken. This figure happened one intoxicating night, when Sparkling said it had to be done before celebrity big brother. She reminds me the snowman will forever be embedded in my memory. A little like a large snowball which had found its way down the back of my jeans, the revealing builders bum was too much of a temptation. Again something which had to be done as far as Sparkling was concerned. The sun even came out this morning, it was nice to see. As the weather warms up there isn't such a need for me to continue with my facial hair. Sparkling has grown used to it and thinks I look rugged, even though she comments the tash tickles. The snowman didn't have a tash by the way.

Last night Sparkling arranged a meeting with the son of a friend she used to know as a child. He emigrated to Australia when about ten years old. His son was now here in Scotland doing a European tour with his partner. It's funny how Australians do the travelling thing, they just get out see the world and renew family ties, perhaps more than those of us who still have family in the UK. They were a happy couple, Sparkling could not help put her hand on his partner's belly as she is about 14 weeks pregnant. Sparkling does this quite naturally, every time she sees Rock Chick her hand is on Rock's belly, it rests there while she senses any movement from  baby.  Maybe it's a maternal thing, or maybe she is sending some sparkling magic through her touch, which puts everyone at east. It's amazing to see young couples so excited over the experience of pregnancy, choosing names and what the future holds. Emotions and everything else gets thrown in. The Australian connection was good. It is always a little apprehension in meeting new people, but at the same time excitement. Unlike Rock they didn't know what the gender of their baby was but would like find out when they returned down-under. It's a shame they didn't get to meet Rock Chick and Dangerous, there were so many similarities between them.

Tomorrow I return to London. So it's the usual anti-climax and emotional upheaval. I found my mind wondering off to issues at the Fish Factory and life in London. Family there and family here. Sparkling remarked I tell her every day I love her when I'm here. This is true, when you find love you just can't help it. It's been a great time, Sparkles hit fifty, we had the biggest snow fall over the shortest time I can think of and a great deal of fun. Sparkles has even tolerated my Ukulele playing with Bertha. I am so lucky, which if I didn't know it Sparkles would tell me I am.

How to while the day away when it snows in Scotland

The weather in Scotland is snow, followed by snow, and this evening it hits a peak with even greater snow fall.  Today the gritters have given up waltzing up the road, down the road or any where near this particular road. I went out and removed the snow from Sparkling's car, there was about six inches, it had been cleared off yesterday as well. It's been snowing since this morning and there has not been a brief respite from it. Usually there will be a  break but not at the moment. Snowmen stand in front gardens, but they to have been covered with even more snow and their once defined features are bland. At night time it is weird. I could even swear it is so bright it seems like an overcast day. The snow reflects all light, it bounces about and everything takes on a glow.  Clearing the snow is almost a self defeating event, for by the time you have finished clearing a path, when turning your back to see where you originally started there is another layer of snow on top. The weather forecast indicates there will be another severe flurry at 6 p.m. this evening. I always think there is a little bit of sadness when it snows after Chrimbo, because it's plainly late. However, the weather is a petulant thing and doesn't follow calendars set by men. I look out of the window and see the fall get heavier. But the forecast for tomorrow is rain and wind and a thaw, no matter how heavy it gets today, tomorrow evening it will all be gone. With the thaw there will be a lot of water. I don't mind a little snow, so it will be sad again to see it go.

Nearly a week has passed and again, I and Sparkling are locked up in a house. Her hands have been around my neck only once, and to consider I have actually been out in the snow and done some work. Not much, but some. Clearing pathways is strenuous, my back aches, but I do get a chance to get out of the house. Sparkling in the meantime is sitting playing a game called Candy Crush. She's on level 65 and has been on it nearly two weeks. Some people appear to get stuck on it for months on end. It's entertainment and frustrating, it keeps her happy and it keeps me happy especially if I get a chance to play with Bertha (Ukulele). The fire is on full blast, doors are closed, Olly (cat) sleeps undisturbed and does not pain us with his meowing. It's nice to be inside at this time, nice to feel the warmth indoors and know what the chill is like outside.

I sit now watching Antiques Road Show, with a cheap version of JD and a coke. It's hitting the spot it should hit. A bowl of home made soup and I'm happy. I try not to play Bertha to much as I know it interrupts Sparkling while she watches TV and contemplates her next move on Candy Crush. I said I would purchase a beautiful broach from the TV program had I won the lottery. Sparkling asked if it was the only thing she'd get. Of course I said "no" she'd get a lot. I'd buy houses in Portugal, Spain, Poland and Jamaica. Of course at the age of 72, Sparkling has divorced me taken three of my european homes, got a few Portugese and Turkish young men to serve her needs. But yet as we sit here discussing it, Sparkling is hassling me more. She wants more and is unhappy, I have both young Jamaican girls and an oriental girl on hand to look after me. She says they are quiet, demure and don't argue, I'd get bored with them. I said I would pay them enough so they didn't argue with me, even though I loved hardy, stubborn Scottish girls as well. She says I'd get bored. Hell, I didn't realise what deep waters snow can get you into. I really do hope this snow goes away tomorrow. I don't know how long I can keep Sparkling from demolishing my Jamaican retreat. It'll be such a nice place to, well, for a short imaginary time anyway.

On a cold day traveling from London to Scotland

This morning was a little bit of a rush. Getting up late and fighting with a warm bed which was very difficult. Warm beds have a kind of power, one which holds you and makes it a struggle to get out. Even when you can see the time clicking by. Just a few more minutes please. I'm not quite ready to face the world when you are so affectionate. Eventually I got up, but time was limited, I'm heading up to Scotland this very moment on the East Coast mainline. My calculations gave one hour to get ready, breakfast, wash, dress and out the door to catch a London bound commuter train. Another item besides bed was listening to the radio, an interview was taking place between the leader of the opposition and the presenter. Ed Miliband and Jim Docherty. The time pressure was mounting up now. How much of the interview I would get to hear would depend on a constant awareness of every minute. There is no way I can miss the train, tomorrow is Sparkling's birthday, it's the big five-oh (50). I hadn't looked at the tickets sufficiently to understand what kind of train ticket I'd bought. If restricted to time, seat, day etc the consequence of missing could be an additional finance. The train had to be caught. I measured each minute with half rushed pleasure and half rushed panic. However, Mr Miliband would not commit himself to saying exactly what Labour would do in respect of Europe. There are advantages to being in Europe, but I am one of those who thinks it has been a mistake. There are probably a lot of us who think this way. I picked up bags, Bertha (the Ukulele) and took them downstairs to the front door. Time check. Seems all OK, boots on and out the door, with about four minutes to spare between arriving at my local station and the train to London.

A small panic ensued as to whether I would get to Kings Cross on time and in the end made it. The tube however was well and truly packed. If I'd taken out a bottle of olive oil and doused it on, I doubt whether it would of been any easier. It was not a pretty experience and one which would of made a claustrophobic's nightmare. My feet were even cramped, there was no hand hold within reach, so I stood there balancing as best I could and at the same time swaying against other people for support. Odd, whatever was supporting my back was soft, then I realised it was a man behind me, so did my best not to lean on him. The pressure to be at Kings Cross made it necessary to get on this train. Normally I'd of been put off by it, let it pass by and wait for another, but time was ticking. At moments like this a watch can be a good and a bad thing. I don't wear one, not at the moment anyway.

At Kings the 10:00 a.m. Aberdeen train had already arrived and passengers were boarding. There was plenty of time on the clock. Nearly twenty minutes. I could of missed that tube and got another, but at the time who was to say I'd make it? Now I sit travelling on the East Coast mainline northwards. I'm facing forwards, which is always nice, looking out the window, typing and moving at about 50 m.p.h. it's not at full speed, but the scenery is amazing. Every field, every tree, has white frost, if not a layer of snow on it. I see fields which were once water logged, they still remain water logged, but now the water has turned to ice and formed iced over ponds. Sheep stand like statues, their heads down and their thick woollen coats with a dusting of frost.  Heads down they still seek a morsel of grass to eat. At this moment in time their coats are the most valuable thing in this world. I noticed, When boarding the train the guard announcement.  Passengers should close windows wherever they saw them open and keep doors closed. I don't think anyone is stupid enough to let a window be left open. For at 6 a.m. this morning it was minus 9 in Newcastle. The train had been cold travelling down to London. Air conditioning and heating were turned up full. It felt pretty warm to me. I took my jumper off shortly after sitting down. Now two hours into the journey it is on again. I can feel a draught. We hit York. The platforms are nearly deserted, a few hardy travellers huddled on the platforms close together, they must of just came out of a waiting room. Slowly the train comes to a stop and the people head for doors.

I think we've had it easy weather wise this winter, it was always on the cards, if Chrimbo was mild then the chill would be delayed to January come February time. The way the weather has changed has been helpful. It's been slow and given everyone an opportunity to adapt to it. Physically I feel prepared for it, unlike going into winter and the sudden decent into radically cold temperatures. You can never be prepared for that kind of change. Or maybe I just say this because the seat is warm and it is easy to comment when all you have to do is be docile for 5 hours, make no effort to do anything else than just enjoy the journey. Looking out of a window and wondering at what temperature does frost begin, how beautiful it is to see every bare tree branch grow it's own white hair of age, they look brittle, delicate and exposed. The landscape takes an altogether cheerful, white bright appearance, as the normal dull, dark ploughed fields are masked. Solitary birds venture to fly, how they must feel the chill. Scotland, I'll see you soon, jumper, coat and a goatee beard I'm prepared. And Sparkling the biggest hug in the world has your name on it.

It's cold out and the diabetic is at it again

It seemed cold last night, no matter what position I got into there was a chill just on the edge of my nerves and I couldn't quite get a log like sleep. When I left the house this morning there was snow on the grass. It had melted from the pathways and roads, but was still settled on the tops of garages and wheelie bins this was a sign of how cold it had been last night.

But sleep hasn't been too bad over the last couple of days. Momma had been careful with her sugar intake, possibly because she had been asked to provide a urine sample. I get home and then find there an empty tin of mixed fruit segments in light syrup. In the last hour she has popped up to the toilet three times. I guess it must mean she did provide her urine sample, now it doesn't matter how much sugary foods she eats, all that matters is she will get the all clear on her sample and think she is a good little girl. Regardless of the long term effects on her health, let alone my own mental health. Tonight it may be back to the old routine, where she gets up every 30 to 40 minutes to urinate. I really can not put up with her consistent urinations throughout the night, I am getting mentally deranged by it. She is torturing me by not letting me sleep and she knows it. She knows it because she gets a disturbed sleep as well. What do you do with someone who is in total denial, or is unable to deal with a health condition in the way they should? I had thought of putting super-glue on the toilet seat, if she likes to piss, well, she may as well be stuck to the seat and not bother with doing anything else with her life.

I read diabetes is the silent killer. A lot of people have it and don't realise they have it. There are many synonyms, frequent urination, hunger, loss of weight, tingling in the extremities, yeast infections, blurry vision, itchy skin, slow healing, constant thirst etc etc. Momma eats a lot, has a constant thirst and so urinates a lot, so these ones stick out the most for now. Apparently weight loss occurs because the body eats muscle not fat to feed itself so it's a bad kind of weight loss. The craving for food is related to carbs, the more you want them the more you eat them and in turn the more you want them. Carbs are probably one of the most subtly dangerous food stuffs around. Now wonder actors like Brad Pitt no longer eat them. Perhaps I should give them up and will then cease to be fat and balding and become slim, long haired and a hunk. Move over Brad the competition is here. As if.

It will be cold again tomorrow, the forecast is snow. I'm going to have to get out those boots which hurt my ankles and try them on again. They hurt one ankle actually and it leads to me walking slowly because of it. I've been checking the shoe shops by my local ones just don't seem to have a style and type of boot I like. You have to try these things on, it's no good purchasing from the internet when it comes to shoes, they fit differently and size differently. The only person who makes money out of shoe purchases is the post man. Anyway, tomorrow is another day, things could change. The sun may come out and Momma's diabetes could disappear, pigs could also fly.

Life with a diabetic in denial

So far 2013 has been no more than a follow through of 2012 problems. The difficulty is sleeping, primarily I'm just not getting enough of if and am constantly suffering from levels of sleep deprivation.  There is one sole cause, Momma. She is diabetic and has to urinate frequently. She wouldn't have to do so if she were sensible with her eating habits, but she's not. It's the hidden sugars she absorbs and doesn't understand this is the reason she has to take so many toilet breaks. In a night it will be anything from 3 to a dozen times. This can not be healthy, it is an indicator of someone in denial and with no understanding the health issues diabetes has. It is a silent creeping killer, it is constantly there and wants to get a firmer grip, when it does rather than a single scythe of death it will work painfully slow. Bit by bit degenerating the body and pulling the individual down into poor health. It is a slow painful deterioration and death. I know of a number of people who have diabetes. Two of which have been operated on to remove part of their feet, or their lower leg in full because of poor circulation and likelihood of gangerine.  I know of one man I used to work with who used to drink like a fish, the by product of diabetes is the conversion of alcohol to sugar so increasing tolerance. He went to hospital, also due part foot amputation and then had a heart attack and died. He was a nice man, he took on the worries of the world and just didn't look after the most important one, his own health. Momma's constant denial is leading to an additional reason for my sleeplessness.

We argue, we argue at different times of the morning. Usually after I have been repeatedly woken up by her going to the toilet. This could be 2:30 a.m., 4:00 a.m. 3:00 a.m., it's all relative. Sleep deprivation makes me cranky and I'm getting a lot of sleep deprivation. We had a spat at 5:00 a.m. this morning, when I then had no real choice but to wake up and go to work even though it was far too early to do so, had I gone back to bed then I don't know when I would of been able to awake in the morning. After this spat, Moma went to the quack, she explained to the quack it was me who had the problem and I was drinking alcohol. I like the odd pint, usually one pint or two and it would be a couple of evenings a week. She didn't mention about her diet I am guessing. She said the quack told her to have me thrown out of the house, it was her house he's the one with the problem. If I leave then I will not not return to enquire about her, not for some time, not till I am over it. She will have to seek legal action against me. In the meantime she will still get up and down a dozen times a night to urinate, it will not solve her diabetes. She has a condition and her denial will lead to her death. I don't want to leave, for many reasons I need not go into, but I now see how vulnerable I am to homelessness. This mentally ill woman who has been sectioned under the mental health act before.  My mother, could see me homeless in real terms and this is frightening. The housing situation is dire in London, rents are high and it will be difficult to get a mortgage because I have no savings. There are no close friends who would take me in, to an extent I am at the whims of a mentally and physically ill geriatric woman and need to either cope with it, or find an alternative solution.

I looked on the NHS web site to see if there was guidance for diabetics. It is not a particularly helpful site in relation to dietary needs and comments. It says the NHS does not recommend any special diet, but it does not add a caveat that a sensible diet low in sugars both natural and processed should be considered. Momma will eat ready meals which do not list the amount of sugar they have in them but will list it as content, she eats tinned fruit in syrup, the NHS site advocates diabetics should eat fruit and vegetables but it does not caveat the dangers of certain fruits or certainly those in tins of syrup. The absence of such information is a significant failure in the information it gives out.

Sleep deprivation is torture, it is psychological torture and can be read in any eye witness account of tyranny against enemies of the state, e.g. Saddam Hussein, or Al-Asad. My work is complex and cognitively demanding and Momma does not take heed when I tell her the repercussions of what can go wrong, how people can be effected if I make the wrong decisions. Being of sound mind is a necessity in many senses of the word. I have to really think about this and decide whether I can continue living in this situation. Were Momma the ruler of a country, I wonder if she would be one of those tyrants, but I'm sure she'd have a free eat all the ice-cream you like holiday, at least every two weeks. Maybe that would supplicate the masses.

Catch up with Layabout Lad and a question about action

I had a catch up session with Layabout Lad this evening. It was good talking to  him, he groaned about work and how one of the supervisors bullied members of staff. I said tell me his name and I would right to the company and say I witnessed him shouting at a member of staff. I'd copy in the company big wigs and tell them I'd think this was unacceptable behaviour. Unfortunately bullies usually win out in most organizations and there is very little done about them. Everybody knows who they are as well. Otherwise Layabout seems to be doing fine. His relationship with his new girlfriend is going well, but he doesn't want to commit himself to moving in with her, he just feels it would be too much. She in turn has hinted how she would like to have a baby, she's at that age where broodiness is kicking in. He says he must feel it and at this moment she's the one who has been doing all the pushing. Unfortunately, she's pushed a little too much. But they are still a couple, until that is either he or she has had enough of it. I don't know who will give out first.

I got home later than usual but still managed to put in a short session with Bertha. I'm beginning to wonder if Bertha's "action" is a bit difficult. The "action" is the distance between strings and frets, if too far away it can be difficult to change chords and to maintain them. I know someone at the Fish Factory who may give me advise on it. Three finger tips are now so calloused I could probably punch a hole through a brick with them, if the bones were strong enough. Bertha is either not making it easy or it's because I'm a novice. One way or another I'll find out or wring her bleeding neck. Not that it will matter to Bertha, Ukes are so inclined to either strum well or not to strum well. Yep, it's all down to the action, or the fingering, or both.

I slept better last night, but not by much. I still have to do some exercise to get to the log like state of sleep. Bertha isn't real exercise but she can help relax me. I better be careful or Sparkling will be getting jealous. Night all.

A cheap no thrills laser printer - Brother HL 2130

So after this morning's post I actually managed to move my arse and do something. A long hour and a half walk, followed by a latte coffee and twenty minute rest. A bus ride, lunch, another bus ride and walk into a mass market computer superstore. Where I had a mission to purchase a printer. One which was not for Wifi but one which would fit directly to my knackered old computer. (Which also requires upgrading at some future date, the monitor is still one of those old TV like ones, no flat screen, but she is old and faithful. Except for the times when she has been unfaithful and refused to work, required a new video card and then a new hard disk, which meant resetting up all the software again. A bloody pain all in all, but these incidents only came after years of hard service, this old thing deserves a medal. When I have to get a new one I will be completely unprepared for the new technology and no longer have an IT contact who will be my guide. I'll just have to use my own head). So about 5 hours later in got home with a new printer under my arm.

The box was cumbersome and I had to get a bus and walk a few streets to get home. The setting up of this printer meant throwing the old one out, pulling all the cables out of the multi-power point sockets and identifying how the arrangement was going to be assembled with this new item. I opened up the quick and easy instructions on how to set the thing up. This happened to be pretty easy as well. Doing this has also delayed my Uke practice today, but I'll get onto that task shortly. I am in love with my printer it's a simple basic device and exactly what I wanted. There are no bells and whistles, all it does is print and there is no other function to it. The price was knocked down and I got an additional 3 year warantee on it, so if it breaks down I can get to take it back and get the same money put towards the purchase of another printer. The most expensive thing was a toner cartridge, which had I got of Amazon would of been £5 less. The printer is a Brother 2130 laser printer, it retailed at £60. Not bad at all. In fact it looks so business like and so office like it brings a smile to my face. All I wana do is have some fun, I mean print some items off and see what they look like. Things with words on, maybe even diagrams. Things which look good. It is fast and has it's sleeves rolled up ready to be tested. OK I must stop staring at it and winking, it is only an inanimate object. I've used it already to print of some papers which required printing a bar code, I'm glad I did use it, the quality of the print is remarkable and there will be no issue with it being scanned. When I cast my mind back a few years I recall basic laser printers like this cost as much as a second hand car, now they are relatively cheap. It's place on my desk is perfect, and if I'm able to sleep tonight maybe I'll dream about printing stuff off it. Oh sleep, if only.

Insomnia is making me cranky

Sleep was a little better last night, but it is not a full deep and undisturbed affair. I wake up when I don't want to wake up and the world encroaches on my senses. It's like the external environment does it's best to intrude on those who wish to keep it out, just for a few hours. I notice how noisy it appears at night when I go to bed. However, when I speak of noise it is not the noise of a pneumatic drill or fireworks display, it is the noise of traffic in the background far away. Little noises which I should be able to shut out. Like in the morning it will be the noise of pigeons on the roof cooing, I hear them and they wake me up. So sleep is interrupted again. It is just not allowed. I stick ear plugs in and these only seem to have a half-hearted effect. I don't want to hear what is going on and am now on the point of considering drugs. Whether it would be better to see the Quack and ask for something to help me sleep. What I would do for a long, long undisturbed heavy sleep. There is still the option of going for a walk, of doing some kind of exercise. It doesn't matter what the exercise is as long as I do something. Which will work two fold. First to tire me out and second to make me healthier. It is such an effort though, but it may have to be done. So as I slowly drag myself into the world of the living, the loud, the fully conscious I must now contend with the option of physical exercise. It seems I may have to go through a period of being a zombie. In order to get some sleep I will need to both mentally and physically exhaust myself, and to make a conscious effort at it.

There are a lot of things which have been pissing me off lately. Religious nuts who have to sing in the street, lack of sleep, a workplace which is nothing but stressful as none of the machines work, missing Sparkling, getting sore and calloused fingers from playing the Uke, toast which is not crispy enough and goes soggy and tasteless once margarine has been put on it, a diet consisting mostly of fried food with very little fresh food, and being fat.  I could also quite easily kill someone with the rage inside of me. There are times when I am so relaxed and everything is like water flowing around me and it has no effect. I'm guessing this cranky mood is all sleep orientated and once I can achieve some shut eye, the rest will be OK, it will all fall into place, like a self fitting jigsaw puzzle, if ever there were one. Funny how very important sleep is, how it does more than just recharge the batteries, it resets the brain, effects mood, rests the body. There could be chemicals in my blood stream going around and around which haven't had a chance to be cleared out by sleep, or even exercise. It's for me to regain control of myself, my life and concentrate again on the things I can do. The proactive things I can change in this way I'll not be swept away with the crap.

I heard Dangerous had spent another day with his mother. It is always a suspicious affair I feel when he goes missing. Rock Chick needs comfort and support at this time of her pregnancy, especially with her hormones all over the place. When Dangerous sees his mother it is like she is trying to change him again, manipulate him into her control so he can not think for himself. He is a fragile young man and does not understand even your own mother can be a bad influence, you have to make your own choices at times and disagree, allow  yourself to be happy. He has confessed to being happiest when he is out of her influence. This has usually meant being away from her, physically away at a place or distance where she can not see him or talk to him for hours on end. I can not but think if she spends hours with him it is because she is brain washing the poor lad. He has a relationship and will soon be a father, his first priority is to Rock not to Mrs Manipulative who domineers the entire thought processes of those around her. If he can't think for himself he had better be very careful. For it will do no good in his relationship with Rock. I have told him he must follow his own happiness, find what it is and grab it with both hands, I sure hope he gives Rock a good hug and together they ride the waves discontent which have been fanned by others, or rather an other.

I'm at the stage of deciding what to do with my Sunday, I need to get up and dressed and start to be active. In a very real sense of the word. It's my life and I live it as I want to, be it my Uke (Bertha) or the end of feeling in my finger tips, be it the end of full sanity and consciousness, be it the troubles ahead, the perceived troubles, or the troubles which are going to be ridden like a bare back horse rider. That sounds good, time to get some clothes on and maybe a dash of war paint as well.

A sleepless night and morning with Ms Insomnia

I was kept awake all night by a woman called Insomnia, and she was bad. Well it could of been thoughts of being back at work, the Fish Factory, and no Sparkling to cuddle up to last night. Without a doubt it was one of the worse episodes of insomnia I've had in a long time. I didn't even bother to look at the clock and gauge time. I just knew it was early morning, probably about 3 a.m. before I did sleep. Up late and then to work at 10 a.m., those fishes will be happy.

You always know it's going to be a difficult night because the usual methods used to trick your brain into sleep don't work. Telling yourself to relax, counting from one to ten and then really concentrating on sleep don't work. I also try the reverse psychology method. This is where you think about getting up, going downstairs and then making a cup of tea. Considering any option which means being in some way slightly active. You wouldn't want to do a marathon, just something light because the plan is to return to bed. Unfortunately the reverse psychology was a bit of a bummer as well. I could of easily got up, decorated the front room, done the Times crossword returned to bed and still would of had my eyes wide open. It was like I had gone to bed and had two or three expresso coffees first. Laying there was a token gesture to the hope sleep would happen. In Sparkling's house I have a crazy cat who loves me and treats me as his bitch to open doors and let him out for a night run. Here I have my own head. I'm attached to it and it will not do what I want it to do.

I just don't know how this sleeping lark works. I'm thinking I may have to do something radical and even exercise. Hell yeah! Exercise. I'll either have physical and mental exhaustion or turn insane. Then all i'll require is one lovely padded room, maybe that would help.

Happy 2013, Day One

We got to bed at 4 a.m. this morning, Rock and Dangerous had the bed whilst I and Sparkling did the floor, with sofa cushions. Olly (The Cat) walked over us as he felt it necessary. Sometime I'm sure I slept. We had boogied the new year in at L & B man's/Revenues woman's front room. I drank too much but topped up the alcohol with four coffees a tea and two pints of water. It worked, no hangover, but tired as shit. Rock texted Sparkles at 10:30 a.m. with interrupted sleep I may have got five hours. Which reminds me I'd better search out Olly and wake him up. Don't want him meowing in too much comfort.

I think the Uke playing is coming along better, I can change chord with less effort. It's just remembering where they are and what they are called. I still haven't mastered the art of strum pattern. But there is a lot of pattern forming behaviours I'm learning, although not exactly what they mean. In psychology they call such patterns schemata, or muscle memory. Moving in sequences, but it's not just the pattern it is very much the timing. Timing, timing, timing.

Sparkling told me how she had wanted the latest Emilie Sandi album for Chrimbo but didn't get it. So while out on a walk and shop I picked one up for her. She says she will be nice to me all day long. I asked if this included playing the Uke, her face screwed up in a contortion as though she didn't realise what she had just said and didn't want to be further tortured by my tunes. Which reminds me of what Rock said last night. Accompanied by the line, don't piss off a pregnant woman. She was going to stamp on Bertha if I played one more tune, or attempt at one more tune on it. I pointed out this would be a cruel thing to do to someone's Chrimbo present. She didn't wear it, but I'd wear it if I carried on. She has such a short temper span, I'm surprised how Dangerous is still able to walk, I'm sure she's been tempted to break his legs, head, neck, depending on how she felt. As fro grows up she will no doubt push the boundaries of Rock's patience to levels she's never experienced before. Terrible two's for instance. Or when she's going out running and jumping in every puddle she can find and getting muddied up. Little fro will be a little tomboy terror, mark my words. She's got Dangerous as a Dad so she's gotta be.

I got told several times last night that I was fat. Once in a while it is like water of a ducks back but too many times and it feels like there's a message there. Well it's been Chrimbo and new year so it will happen. However, for 2013 things are going to be different, I feel motivated to slim down. Look out world the fat man will be less of a fat man as next year comes in.