Deppy and Dippy

While on a few days holiday in Gdansk (Poland) myself Sparkling, L & B Man and HMRC woman enjoyed a few nights out. Fine dinning, followed by excessive amounts of alcohol, part of which is the obligatory few shots of vodka or Wodka as they call it and just enjoying the entire experience. Sparkling isn't used to doing much walking and when she does she tends to get a dippy hippy. It's the muscles in her leg and on account of one being slightly shorter or longer than the other. So her dippy hippy walk comes into play. Where she leans over slightly to the left and her bag sits on her right hip. Not a lot but it is one of those things. At least it isn't as bad as my own explosive farting, which is I am sure is related to carbohydrate intake. Nevertheless on such occasions Sparkling becomes Dippy. Well for this occasion she did.

We'd had a meal in the Buddha restaurant, which I must say I wasn't impressed by the samosas and then hit a club called Fahrenheit and just at the point when HMRC woman was about to fall off her seat and sleep, we decided to move on. On the way back to the hotel we passed another pub on a corner which unlike where we had come from was absolutely packed out. In due course mentioned this to the crew and said lets hit this place just for one shot of raspberry wodka, Dippy's favourite high spirited tipple. as we entered the small doorway there sitting at a bar was a short man, dressed with a brimmed hat, and long coat, he had black glasses on and his facial hair had grown in such a style it seemed like he could of been a Johnny Depp look-alike, except he was a little shorter and possibly even shorter than Dippy. Immediately Dippy sees him she heads directly to him, points a finger at him and says "you look just like Johnny Depp" followed by "can I have my photograph with you." The earlier few drinks had obviously broken down any doubts or inhibitions in Dippy's mind for the only thing that mattered now for the last part of our Gdansk holiday seemed to be Dippy's infatuation with Deppy. Although saying this Dippy did go walking off afterwards and sat at another table, leaving me to continue a conversation with Deppy. Who it turns out is a pianist and opera singer. His voice is a particular type and there are few people of that vocal range, he also does acting, but let me say not in the same league as the real Johnny, which would be absolutely silly. I chatted to Deppy about the ukulele, he chatted to me about how he loved to play the piano and his theory that there is a magical 10,000 hours of practice which changes a musician from amateur to expert. He was passionate about his playing and although I was non too impressed by being left with Deppy to continue this chat further he was actually better company than the rest of my companions. HMRC had captured to natives in a conversation about the welfare system of the UK, Dippy was in some way involved in this as well, considering how much wodka she had consumed I was better seated with Deppy. In the meantime, L & B man was periodically coming to the bar buying drinks, talking absolute and complete gibberish with the very few words he did speak, and sticking his middle finger up to Deppy from behind Deppy. It very much was a case of pretending L & B did not exist and I don't think he was sure he actually existed at this time as well.

Deppy had discussed with Dippy what he did, which was play the piano and sing in an opera. Dippy thought Deppy was playing the central role at a local theatre, we checked out this very old looking theatre like building and could not see Deppy's face on any of the posters. Dippy just couldn't make sense of it and it didn't help she was trying to remember something which had been said to her while drunk. Whilst L & B never remembers a thing just he had drank too many and was later the same evening found himself sleeping on the first floor hallway of the hotel rather than being in his actual room which was on the third floor. I wouldn't mind but even HMRC woman spent a few minutes on the floor outside her own room on account of not having an entrance card, which I might add I had to go three flights down the stairs to get. It's bloody lucky I wasn't sleeping on the carpet on the second floor hallway. To move on. So the next day on looking for Deppy and wherever he was performing we drew a  blank. Again after a few too many drinks we gently began to make our way back to the hotel and there outside the front of a pub/restaurant, in the rain, under a large umbrella was Deppy playing on an electric and suspect piano. Old favourites were belted out, such as the theme from the Godfather. Deppy certainly knew what he was doing. In order for Dippy and HMRC woman to get a bit of time alone listening to Deppy, I and L & B man were ordered to go walk past a possible prostitute and get some items for the hotel room.  As we approached the young lady with a Pink umbrella, she asked if we'd like to see a stripper to which L & B man said "no, we're gay." About twenty minutes later we returned from a shop back to the pub/restaurant.  Dippy went on to tell me how when we had walked off old Deppy was giving her the eye and she was pretty happy about it.

The night went on and it led to more over indulgence, but Dippy was exceptionally excited she was able to pull Deppy. Whereas I was gay.

A happy pint and a piss

It's funny how a couple of pints can change your perception of everything. The Guinness was definitely tasting good tonight I must admit. The stories told by a fellow drinker sounded all the more funny. The old witch who I sat next to even had a couple of words to say. As if she never has a couple of words to say because she actually has far too many words to say and has to say them to everyone. Even if they don't want to hear them. I sat there and felt good, I most definitely felt in very good spirits. The big union man said how he had represented his brother in law at a meeting where the private company were going to sack him for fiddling his overtime. I faced up to the private company boss and said "well if you think it is such an open closed case then I'd like you to state that at an industrial tribunal." A week later  his brother in law got an unconditional pay out of £25K. Wonderful. He then went on to say, "you always win against private employers." It seems in the public sector they are more prone to following the correct actions. In another story he told how he helped organize a football training even for people with special needs. It was more popular than he anticipated and 70 special needs persons turned up. He said it was the funniest day of his life, and ended the session by getting them all to bow down and pledge allegiance to his local football team.

In a separate chat I expressed how offensive I found it when when someone said "god bless you." I stated, were I a Satanist and replied "Beelzebub bless you" I'm sure they would find it equally offensive."  There are too many god fearing, sheep following crazies about for my taste. I couldn't help but think, if you want to believe in something which does not exist and has got no evidence in the real world there must be some mental illness involved. Why it is they biggest hypocrites are the bible bashers I don't know.  The prisons seem to be full of them.  We went on and debated the current political climate. How the Tories were now instigating a program of morally injust politics. Ensuring the poorest of society paid the heaviest for the continuuing deficit, which the Conservatives said would be under control by the end of their term. We're now more than half way through and they are so far off course from their original statements they are bigger liars than the man who invented lies.  The price of  housing and the rental market had now become so high there would be many homeless on the streets as the next years passed by. But it wouldn't matter to the Tories because homeless people are not registered to vote and they would have nothing to worry about. 

At some point I made my way home, and then dying to urinate, pissed up the garage of the man who feeds pigeons, which now congregate on my roof every morning.  They wake me up, they speak to each other in cooing language and I'd kill them if I could. The piss, flowed so easily over his garage door I hoped he would notice it in the morning. Unfortunately, I don't think it will stop him throwing bread out for the birds at 5:30 a.m., but as the saying goes, don't get mad, get even. Something which Sparkling has said to me, something which I took great delight in practising this evening. 

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.

Who's shot is it anyway?

Last night I was treated to the full attention of both Rock Chick and Sparkling Eyes. The worse part of it was they were both looking for some entertainment. Usually I am lucky and am not in the position of being the main item on the menu. It's not a matter of ducking and diving but rather of someone else being there to take the heat instead. Which really is more the role for Dangerous Sports Lad. Last night the dice was thrown and it came up with my number on it. Both were in various stages of boredom, Dangerous unfortunately had to hit work. What I did get to see was how Rock Chick had trained Dangerous. He doesn't bend as much as Rock would like. It is humorous to watch.  I could see Rock's will being tested as she expected Dangerous to jump when he didn't, her face gave it all away. The evil eye and tense jaw. When he had left for work she confided how she felt like beating him up because he didn't do as she said. Dangerous had not listened to her again and then had to deal with the consequence of not taking her very good advice.

From somewhere the question was asked, "how about having some shots?" I don't know who said this but the game had began. The first shot was called a lemon drop, it was written on the shot glass as well. Lemon juice, vodka, a slice of lemon and the rim of the glass dipped in sugar. It was very sweet sugar. The juice settled in the bottom of the glass and I was required to suck the lemon afterwards. Down in one, gone, but I couldn't help the screwed up expressions on my face with both sweet and sour. I tried to play my Chrimbo Ukulele called Bertha but it was hard going. Alcohol definately helped to relax my strumming and chord change but it wasn't the only effect. I was getting drunk. But I saw Sparkling also downing the same number of shots I was, the same shots in fact. I thought to drink water, lots off it. So every couple of shots ran out into the kitchen filled up large beaker and downed at least a pint. I thought to myself Sparkling was going to have a hell of a head in the morning with all these shots. Hopefully it would not be so bad with the pints I was knocking back. With the alcohol my emotions were out of control. I cried, I laughed. Sparkling and Rock both cried with laughter at me. They listened to my dribble finding it entertainment. I reached for the beaker of water, but it had a strange taste to it. Someone had spiked my water, there was definitely a gin like taste. Not too bad either. I knocked it back.  At about mid night or nearly mid night I went to bed.

The night was full of frequent visits to the toilet, all that water had to come out and did on an hourly basis. I was dizzy, very dizzy and hoped there would be no hangover. Oliver the cat pestered as usual to be let out, in and out again and again. I'm now used to sporadic sleep and sporadic not sleep. The thought of Sparkling having a hang-over even made me chuckle. Yet I had not considered the power of Rock and Sparkling together, a power which can not be denied, one which is full of mischief.

In the morning Sparkling confessed all. She'd only had one or two shots to the ten I'd drank. Rock was dealing her with water and diluting juice. My water had been spiked, I had become the fool. Why on earth did I let Rock Chick serve the drinks? What was wrong with me? In classic double act fashion they had worked, I was more malleable than putty. When the two are together no man is safe. I certainly wasn't. Next time I'll poor my own shots. Where is Dangerous when you need him? His function as fall guy had befallen on moi.

Lemon drops anyone?

First night out and a bit of a drink

Last night I was out on the town. or rather having a piss up in a couple of local pubs. I'd arrived a few hours earlier and then it was a matter of being hauled out with L & B man and Crazy Carpenter.  Mr Crazy Carpenter loves to get completely blotto, L & B man loves to have a drink and let his hair down. Then there's the one who can only drink three pints before getting pissed, moi. So with this in mind I made sure three or four rounds I'd knock back Cola rather than Guinness, a wise decision, even if it resulted in L & B callling me a Fanny. Which he did a few times. There were a few comments about the moustache I'm now wearing.  Sparkling of which thinks I can not be taken seriously while it is on my face. She wants it moved to a place far away. Even though I said I liked the Tash and wanted to keep it so at least Rock Chick could see it. So some reactions are not quite as anticipated, but hell, if a man wants to wear a Tash it shouldn't have to become a major incident, unfortunately it is.

We went to two different pubs. The first one we sat and talked. Carpenter has a way of facial expressions to deliver his points, these and profuse swearing. He works very hard so this maybe why he enjoys a lads night out. He can be funny, the only problem I have is understanding what he says. His accent is even worse L & B's, but I am getting better at understanding Scottish in all forms it comes in. It has to do with familiarity. To the extent I moan to Sparkling how radio commercials are in an English accent and not a Scottish accent. No wonder Scots are fed up with the English.

The second put was a lot more lively. There was a karaoke, drunk people went up and sang songs. Fortunately the man who was doing the karaoke was a good singer and he kept filling in so there was constant music, it was great fun. I would of loved Sparkling to have been there as well, she would of loved it. Her voice isn't the best karaoke voice, but I know she would of had a lot of fun. It has been raining constantly in Scotland for the last few days and after being thoroughly pissed I decided to just head back to Sparkling's pad. Through the poring rain. I left L & B there as he was talking to someone, and as for piss head Crazy Carpenter, well nothing he said made any sense and he'd been farting the worse smelling farts all night. I know mine could be bad but he's beat my odours easily. At one point I told him to go and evacuate his bowels. I don't know if he did, but there was an improvement. or rather I was avoiding him even more.

It was a good night out. In 24 hours I'd had about 4 hours sleep so the rest of the evening Olly the cat toyed with waking me up and being demanding. I'm now walking about not sure if I should be in a coma or not. I ran upstairs and woke up Olly a couple of times so he knows what it is like being interupted while trying to get shut eye. Unfortunately, so far the cat is winning. He just gets jealous, who would of thought a cat can get jealous, but they do. Certainly in his case. I wonder if he'd like a night on town, he might not be much company but a glass of milk for a round wouldn't be too expensive. And I'd likely get back not drunk either.

Two Americans in Krakow, Poland.

Yesterday I came back from Scotland, and a day earlier I was in Poland, Krakow to be exact. I always think it is incredible when returned from a holiday to think only a few hours ago I was in a different country some hundreds of miles away.   It was real.  I did it, have the photographs, drank the beer, vodka and mushroom zupa (soup) and even made a momentary Polish friend.  Who couldn't speak any English which was just as good because I couldn't speak any Polish.  He happened to be a doctor as well.  But even doctors sit in pubs, smoke and drink beer.  Yes.  In Poland you can smoke in the pub provided it is in the designated area where smoking is allowed.  Which was OK for the people I went with as they were all fumigators.   In a bar on two separate occasions we met Americans.

On the first occasion it was a woman.  She was from Chicago, was suffering from job burn out and had decided to see Europe.  Sparkling saw her looked at me and through her glazed sparkling eyes, because she'd drank a few vodkas at this stage said "you love her," I didn't know I loved her, Sparkling said I did.  It was just an American girl.  The truth being I hardly spoke to her at all, it was L & B man and the woman from the Revenues did.  Although the American girl seemed a lonely figure, at first she did not engage in conversation and sat quietly to one side.  My response to Sparkling she was the only one I loved, through dazed dizzy sparkly eyes her reply was "awe," followed by a flicked pointed finger.  Sparkling was happily merry, she lazily closed her eyes and had a hiccough under her breath.  These were to continue to plague Sparkles when she took the raspberry vodka.  Almost like clockwork.  Revenues woman was engrossed in conversation with the American girl.  After about an hour it seemed Revenues had enough of the American and left her with L & B man.  Revenues said the American girl was nuts.  She didn't seem to know where her heritage was and disagreed with Revenues woman over Schindler being a hero or not.  Her view was he was an opportunist capitalist.  She had read some literature on him and she also had a grand parent or mother who was either Jewish or German but knew more about it.  I can't say for sure because the conversation seemed oblique.  As some discussions are when you are sitting in the pub and suffering from a dodgy belly.  Krakow belly in my case.  About another half hour passed and we left with L & B man shortly leaving his conversation with the American Girl who may or may not of been nuts but clearly Revenues didn't quite like.

On a separate night we met the second American, a man.  The conversation barely lasted five to ten minutes and then he went off, but he left an impression.  He appeared confident and loud in my mind.  Immediately I saw him I took a dislike and thought he was a tosser.  He was asked by L & B man what it was which bought him to Poland.  The American man said "the girls."  This was followed by another comment which pissed me off even more, "why be a poor American in American when I can be a rich man in Poland?"  I thought he was abusing his relative wealth.  It's true, Polish people did not seem to me to have much of a mixture of the classes.  They appeared generally poorer.  But they also gave the impression of being very honest people.  They didn't like to be over tipped I found.  Although there was the one or two who would accept large tips at the bar or possibly over charge.  Generally speaking they seemed like very respectable people.  Of course I'd be careful about their Police, because I've heard stories.  I won't go into them.  I liked the Polish people and even leaned to say Thank-you in Polish.  The American didn't give the impression he respected them or anything else, the impression he gave was he would take advantage of them, and probably frequented prostitutes because relatively speaking they were probably a lot cheaper by his standard of prostitute.  It was no surprise after this very short time Sparkling through her dizzy haze said to me "you see him, he is all I hate about Americans," this was followed by "when he comes back I'm going to knock him out."  She might of been inebriated but I certainly wouldn't of put it past Sparkling to have tried to of landed a punch on the American.  She repeated this a couple of times.  The American man didn't come back.  He probably had a sense.  If he had though and even faintly responded to Sparkling had responded back, both I and L & B man would of waded in for a full bar brawl.  Regardless of having Krakow belly or not. The girl and the man were two very different people.

We may be going again to Krakow in December, our taxi driver told us it could get as cold as minus 25 degrees at this time.  The prospect of this doesn't excite me, however I'm sure a chilled vodka would go down even better.  Then I can purchase a real Russian hat as well.  Better get the phrase book out and learn some more words.  Now, how do you say? "no raspberry vodka thanks, it gives me the hiccoughs."

A happy drunk with an opinion or two

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

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

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

Being drunk

Alcohol has a tendency to make me 1. soppy, 2. emotional 3. hungry 4. Happy, 5. in need of talking to those I love. When I ring up those I love they are usually sobre at this point.  Sparkling Eyes doesn't want to hear me.  But may I say when she rings me and I am sobre and she is drunk, I have to listen to her, even though my head gets in a right tizzy.  I get hungry.  I can't help it.  I drink, get drunk and need a portion of chips. It's definitely not good for me, because of all those calories and my new found way of going into a Weatherspoons pub and stealing sachets of sauce to put on my chips.  Emotional, dam I get so emotional and tuned into to all sorts of stuff it is almost as though everything which happens when someone talks to me that I feel it has happened to me.  Lets not forget being happy.  I'm a happy drunk.  I get tired want to sleep and also have a silly smile on my face, which probably goes hand in hand with the desire to hug everyone.  What the hell happens when I get drunk I don't know.  Just it releases some inner person to a much greater extent.  No matter what I do I can't get away from him, he's me but he's a different me.  Awwe and lets just say I could do with a good hug from Sparkling on such occasions.  Even if she has her sane head on and is avoiding me like the plague.  Such is the demeanour of being drunk.

Shame on me.

The revelation of a pint

I've been to the gym this evening and for some reason my belly hurts, it must of been the three sets of 20 sit ups.  Not many but for a little pot bellied man like myself but it was enough.  Again half an hour on the running machine which was pretty good, then only to find I had just about burnt off 350 calories.   A few weight machine exercises and I finished.  On the way to the train station I met Language man (on account he speaks 4 languages and is Belgian), but being a Belgian is nothing to do with his language skills.  I offered my hand and he gave me a hearty hand shake.  Then suggested the pub.  After a hand shake like that how could I refuse?  Just the one pint for me but the conversation was good.  Though sometimes I do wonder about conversing with people who have similar political and religious views as myself.  The reason is because you're always in agreement and the thing with a good discussion is there should always be a little bit of debate or even argument.  Language man is a nice bloke and very easy to get along with.

It was while talking to him I got thinking, and maybe it was the pint of Guinness as well.  For you never know, sometimes one of those lovely black glasses hits the spot.  I got thinking about general stuff.  It must of been after or during the conversation about the Universe and how insignificant we were, but how awe inspiring and humble it made us feel.  The stuff being along the lines of our fleeting lives.  Yes, this was the train track and the pint which got me thinking.  With all the stresses at present in the Fish Factory the conversation added a bit of perspective.  However, I didn't talk about the Fish Factory.  In the long, haul of existence, ours is but milliseconds of milliseconds in the grand universe.  Our likes and dislikes, our pain in the arses things are so insignificant they are hardly worth thinking about.  Although personally the biggest pains in the arse tend to be other people.  I'm sure some of them feel this way about me as well.  I know Sparkling and Big Momma can for sure.  I hope not all the time, because then my name would probably go on some hit list.  Yes.  All those things which cause distress can be overcome with the right frame of mind.  This is what I thought.  Only thing is finding, getting or becoming the appropriate right frame of mind.

I then at some point realised, after consuming my pint it had cost me the half hour run on the treadmill.  So now I was back to square one.  Zero.  For which there is something quite interesting about as well.

Humour and bull shit

I don't know if it is a mistake writing a BLOG when I am slightly intoxicated.  But a little alcohol does help to drop down the guard and helps me to talk more bull shit than usual.  The only thing is trying to remember what happened during the day so I can report it to all two of my lucky readers.  I say two, particularly in desperation after all who wants to read about the life of a middle aged fat man.  Have I told you I like rum?  Probably.  Anyway I'll just sit here and slap my head trying to think.  Oh yes here it comes.  The little grey cells are beginning to work, just as Agatha Christies Poirot might say.

There I was sitting in the pub with a few drinking companions when I thought to check in on my phone to see if Sparkling had been in contact.  On account of her tonsils going on strike.  To my surprise, shock and delight she had sent me a text message.  In it was asked when I next intended to come up.  Awwwe.  However, she also stated she had a double shift at her Fish Factory.  It must of been the Guinness hitting my brain.  For a moment a pain of annoyance hit me, but then within a split second enlightenment, I chuckled as I began to compose my response. This was to the effect, "Darling I am due up on the 15th, don't worry I'll bring up my blow up doll".  This must of bought a wry smile to Sparkles as she responded with "Cheeky Bugger."  I know she would of laughed.  But seriously I could see myself cuddling up to a blow up dolly for the company.  At least if I gave it a squeeze it would fart in reply, whereas Sparkles can hardly say anything. 

I am finding how much humour is a great destressor of situations.  Especially when those situations are tense as they are at the moment in the Fish Factory. Maybe I am being seen as too much the clown, however saying this I take my fish sorting very seriously and just love it as a job.  I can hardly believe it has taken twenty years of hard work to get where I am.  Blimey, talk about slow starter.  I am now finding after reaching this level of the pyramid, there will be times when it feels I am constantly having to deal with fires.  Stamping them out, pissing on them here and there.  A waft of steam rises upwards as each has been dampened down.  I try and keep as calm as I can, even when I feel about to lose it and go crazy.  It seems many people are reluctant to sort out their own problems.  Being calm though at least doesn't allow a situation to escalate, because the reactions of one person in turn dictate the actions of another.  It's a Catch 22, vicious cycle of stimulus response schedules of reinforcement.  I now have to refine my technique on how not to answer questions, or answer questions with questions and humour.

In any situation I am put in, there is one thing I can choose, this is how I respond.  And although my first response may be one of frustration this is of no use to anyone, so I try and throw it out the window sit back and deliberate.  Yep, you got it, talk bull shit.