On a hill with a Ukulele and a few dog walkers

Sparkling tells me it has been snowing again in Scotland. She's fed up with it. Whilst back in London today the sun came out. It was bright and hard this morning and such a change to actually feel warm. Well for a short time anyway. I had this notion this morning to go and play Bertha in the park. I wanted to see what it would sound like, up on the hill where the walnut tree used to be. Until it had been hit by lightening and then eventually died. Shame. There is a seat and table up there. it looks down over a built up estate fifteen minutes walk away. But it's nice up there and I wanted to hear what Bertha sounds like when sound doesn't bounce of the walls of a small room. It wasn't as secluded as hoped. Dog walkers were about, the odd Nepalese walking around as well. It was too late. Next time I'll be up there at 7 a.m. or earlier. Except at this time on a Sunday I'd rather sleep, and of course there would of been frost. At 10 a.m. the frost had all melted. Bertha sounded OK but I was distracted by the noise of cars on the road down below, birds, barking dogs and dog walkers. Dog walkers who seemed to me to be lingering about just to hear what the crazy man on the top of the hill was playing on his ukulele. I saved the world by not singing. Did my songs and got pissed of with the walkers, like they never heard someone attempt music. Well, probably not on the hill, not on a Sunday morning.

Sparkling said it was a public place. It was something to expect and she'd of stopped to listen if around at the time. Don't matter. Next time I will get up earlier, but if its frosty my fingers will get cold and it will not be much of a session. I think Bertha liked a bit of fresh air as well. I must learn those songs and the music to them better. It's got to be so they are burnt into my memory. Of by heart. I wonder if there's a song about frosty fingers which isn't too difficult to learn. Mind the good thing about a Uke is you never need a poop bag.

Cold weather and the wrath of a pregnant woman

OK it's the 3.04.13. and now a case of being completely and utterly fed up with the weather. Spring has began and there are still snow flurries in parts of south east England.  It is crazy, this morning as waking up I took a look out of the window and there was frost on the cars. If this is global warming I don't know what global bloody freezing looks like. Everybody is wrapping up with extra clothes, although there are some idiots who don't wear coats, I'm sure the cold will catch up with them. As I waited for a train to work there was one African man who was in a suit and he had a jumper on underneath his jacket. It looked odd. But there was no coat. I'm a native of this country and I'm feeling the cold so come this evening he will be shivering for sure. It is a fact, those populations who are indigenous to a country or continent are physically better suited to it. There are even some morning when I leave the house and it's zero degrees but I feel it's not cold. The cold is more determined by the wind. It cuts through and is worse than a cold day by itself.  I've had enough. If shouting up at the sky made the sun come out and warmed everything up I'd be out there like a crazy man shouting up at the sky and waving my fist. Some days it feels like I just can't get warmed up, even at night in bed I'm not sleeping well. If I go to bed with cold feet it takes hours before they warm up and then it's morning and time to get up for work. Call me a bloody Eskimo, is all I can say. I'll go out seal hunting tomorrow so had better prepare the huskies tonight. I could do with a polar bear coat, an artificial one because I'm a green Eskimo and don't want to upset anyone. I'm just absolutely bloody pissed off with it.

I spoke to Rock Chick the other night, she is getting fatter and fatter. Standing up for hours while working is now not an option. The weight on her pelvis is just too much, but otherwise she seems to be a pretty happy and pregnant. I'm not sure if Dangerous is quite on the ball with it all though. It's lucky Rock is there to tell him what to do and keep him updated. Dangerous is the kind of person who is late to everything. He likes his bed, he likes talking, he likes food, he loves Rock and Babyfro, and his life is so going to change. I know he will do a great job, but I expect there will be a big maturity injection once Babyfro is here. After all, he's had the easy bit so far. Poor Rock Chick carrying growing Fro about and dealing with hormone swings, up and down and round about. Rock told me how one evening when Dangerous had gone out and promised to be back early how she rang him at 2 a.m. to find he was still at his friend's house. He still had not actually understood the message, when Rock says get home early she means it. As a consequence Rock rang him up. The conversation which took place was probably from a clear headed sobre Rock and a slightly drunk Dangerous, the worse thing was he began to wind Rock up, as though to be playful. But at 2 a.m. in the morning Rock didn't feel like laughing. She then went out to find a paper craft model Dangerous had made. It had taken months and was a labour of love. She took a knife to the model, which was also the model of a knife and began to cut it up into pieces and binned it. Dangerous is slow so it took him a couple of days to realise his beautiful labour of love was  missing. Rock said she'd thrown it away and dopey Dangerous just accepted it. Mind I wonder what Dangerous would of though if he'd seen her deliberately mutilating the model and smiling as she dropped the fragments into a bin. Moral of story, never get on the wrong side of a pregnant woman, and never get on the wrong side of Rock Chick. I must admit she enjoyed telling the tale. I wonder if Dangerous will learn the lesson, but for some reason I doubt he has the capacity.

My affair with Bertha continues, I love giving her a strum and when I get round to singing can't help laugh at my inability to keep to time, sound any good or know what I'm doing. I'm sure the more practice the better I'll get. I spend many evenings just strumming her strings and not even bothering to learn new stuff it's relaxing and different from anything else I have ever done. It's like being on a journey and just ambling along not worried about how long it will take to get wherever it is I'm going. All I know is with each practice session, over time I'll improve. I smile, and when I pull Bertha out of her case sometimes I speak to her gently. I hope it doesn't mean I'm nuts. We have a connection. However, I will say I'm a little disappointed with the A string second fret. She buzzes now and again and if can spoil the session. Talking about sessions. Last weekend I saw Monster Boy and we had a jamming session. He got Hilda out, I got Bertha out and we strummed. Mind I don't think he has the same dedication.  It didn't matter because it was a good time we both had. He said he enjoyed it. All I can say is never get between a man and his Ukulele, it's a personal thing.

A call from a not so smart phone and chicken soup

This afternoon my phone went off at the Fish Factory. It was Sparkling Eyes. I calmly put a hand into my coat pocket to immediately stop the ringing. The idea being to get out of an open factory area into a quiet room to ring her back. I wondered for a moment as I walked off from the bench to find somewhere private, rang Sparkling and she didn't answer. So I sent her  a text to immediately ring back if she needed to talk. Back on the factory floor a text popped up and Sparkling hadn't rang me intentionally. It's one of those things. New smart phone, no instructions in the box. The assumption being it is so user friendly anyone can understand how to use it just by playing with the thing. Of course the world of technology and human beings doesn't always read of the same non-existent page, they are usually on totally different pages. Come to think of it, no instructions doesn't sound smart to me, they should be called dumbfounded phones. Later after finishing work I checked my phone and listened to Sparkling's answer phone message. Which happened to be a conversation she was having with Rock Chick at the time. I listened to their conversation which wasn't always audible and smiled. It was just nice to hear both their voices and like I had eavesdropped even though I hadn't. It was a serendipitous listening, I miss them both and enjoyed the moment as cold wind blew in my face walking down the street.

Sparkling is not well at the moment and really needs some TLC time. Her sinus is swollen and she looks like someone has assaulted her. The weather in Scotland is cold, because it's generally very cold over the entire country, snow, sleet, ice, rain sort of thing. I offered to make chicken soup and bring Horlicks to her, but Sparkling doesn't like Horlicks. Fortunately she is not working tomorrow. As for her sinus the only thing she can do for now is let it run it's course even though it has been two weeks of heavy breathing. Maybe I could order an entire box of chicken soup from Amazon and send it to her. I'll have a look.

The day has been very busy, as indeed every day at the Fish Factory seems to be lately. However, I like busy and being busy, but I don't like being overwhelmed. It's being overwhelmed which leads to stress. The best way to cope with this is paradoxically to stop doing something and spend time thinking about it. Although too much time thinking about something is more along the lines of procrastination. An old and dear friend I constantly fight with and am sure there are a lot of people out there who also fight against. This evening I have been productive. Given Bertha attention, watched videos on Getting Things Done (GTD) and even spoken to Sparkling. The procrastination or relaxing bit was playing a few games of Candy Crush and wondering if I am addicted to it, just as I wonder whether I should bother with Facebook. Which I have found videos from people on YouTube advocating people should remove themselves from. Except, I am on it and I do find it useful but I am not crazy addicted to it. Mostly because I don't have many friends. In Facebook terms most of the friends people have are not really friends at all. Some they may never have met before or have met but only very briefly.  The thing is Facebook seems to be some glorious self publicising machine. Or a being nosey machine, where people just snoop on other people. I hold little weight with it, but do keep an eye on what goes on, as well as Candy Crush, but if I wanted it would not be too difficult to give the whole thing up.

Come to think of it, Sparkling should put on Facebook she is suffering from a sinus problem. It would be an accurate update of her status. Along with, "my phone makes phone calls on it's own" and "chicken soup anyone?"  I could see the crowds flocking to her door, bowls in hand, and giving some tips on how to work dumb phones. They could look after Sparkling and be like real friends and family. Oops, nearly forgot, Facebook is not about real stuff. It's not like listening to a message from real people, you love and know love you back. Get well Sparkling, you'll need your strength to open up a box of chicken soup I'm sending to you. x x

It might be spring but it's snowing

It's snow again. Here on the east side of Scotland those little white flakes have not let up. Most of yesterday it snowed and it's snowing this very moment. Considering in two weeks time it spring officially starts, I don't think the weather knows about this. Someone needs to tell the weather it has to change. It is now being inconsiderate to the rest of us. Shops are expecting to sell their spring clothes but nothing is moving off the shelves. The last of those floppy eared winter hats has flown out the door and there's no more left. Well I got one somewhere. In a place where it is best used, on top of my head.

Sparkling has to hit work. The car is in the drive and has a few inches of the white stuff on it. My job will be to dig the thing out and make it road worthy and warm for when she gets inside. The cat as ventured out for about thirty seconds and come back in. His poor little paws sank into this carpet and he got lost so it was safer to be inside. I just hope he doesn't take to pissing in the house as well. Funny how he's pulling his fur out at a time like this.

The agenda has been filled with painting and decorating Sparkling's new bedroom. It's a raspberry, pink come red colour with lime green trimmed borders. I do like it. The only thing is decorating is always a slow process and Sparkling is a woman who likes to get things done straight away. She gets impatient if something isn't done immediately. I don't know why it's her nature. You even say this is a thing all women have. They just like to get their men out there an doing stuff, unfortunately it is never to the standard they want either, which you never know about until you've finished because mind reading is another thing they take for granted. I think the button in my head has been switched off because my mind reading is bloody awful at the moment. Fortunately Sparkling has told me the walls need a second coat and to get on with it while she is at work. Hence the day has already been planned, and I was going to stay in bed as well. Highly unlikely in these circumstances.

Some dozen hours later, the room is painted. Sparkling has finished work, Rock Chick has spent time with her belly in full view as baby Fro has kicked, elbowed and turned around. Whilst poor tired out Dangerous Sports Lad has kipped on the settee, he's just started a job and the second day involved getting to work at 7 a.m. For someone who barely ever gets up early it must of been a shocking experience, but he has picked up his game and risen to the challenge. Anyway, once the little one comes along he'll soon know what it is like to have sleepless nights, with the affection of a beautiful little girl who can bend him round her very tiny little finger, awwwe.

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.

Snow man Pedro

Some time early this morning it actually began to snow in London.  However, it is not as severe as the snow in the east of Scotland.  Sparkling always tells me how the BBC fails to report the extent of the snow there, she sees it as discrimination.  There may be fewer people who live there but they do deserve a say on the news so come on BBC they always get it worse than us lets see some more news of it on the box.

In the meantime I go out in my ushanka hat.  After last year it seems everyone really doesn't care what it is you wear, there is only one thing which matters and it's keeping warm.  Besides I like my hat it looks good and keeps my head and ears warm.  On heading home this evening I thought of buying additional food for the fridge.  Nothing to do with the fridge's appetite, but just in case things get worse.  But I doubt they do, unless you happen to be living in Scotland then it can get worse.  Sparkles fortunately has kept her freezer stocked well, she's got enough lamb kebab sticks (they were going cheap) to last for another couple of weeks.  I'm sure it won't come to it though.  I overheard someone in the Fish Factory say how they had just bought a new coat and how really warm it was.  He showed it to anyone who would listen and when asked how much it was gave a rather higher price than I've ever paid for a coat, but if it keeps you warm it's probably worth, shame you have to be rich to keep warm as well.

Rock Chick and Dangerous Sports lad co-operated to make a snow man in the back garden.  They found one of my baseball hats and put it ontop.  It's supposed to be me.  Here's the pic.  It has a can of Guinness and for some reason a small cuddly penguin.  Sun glasses?  Well the reflection of light from the sun can be strong.  It's nice to know I am represented in a garden 400 miles away.  Unfortunately it has snowed for another two days since this picture was taken.  The hat can't be seen and only the sun glassess are visible.  Sparkling told me he'd put on another 15 stone since.  I sure hope it is not an omen for my own weight problems.  It does put a smile on my face seeing Pedro in the garden.  If I got the resolve I'll do one in my garden to, only thing is I need to find my gloves first.  I just don't fancy frost bite.

I bought a bottle of Morgan's spiced rum the other day and I must admit to drinking the odd glass of it in the evening.  It maybe slightly aromatic in flavour but there is nothing which quite matches the feeling as a little alcohol slips down the back of the throat and warms you up.  Perhaps when I next head north I'll take a min bottle of it for Snowman Pedro just so he don't feel left out. I wonder if he has hairs on his chest as well?  No he can't have, coz then he'd be a Yeti.  No.  Yeti's are usually 8 feet tall this one is a little small.  Then again with more snow on the way in Scotland he may very well be 8 feet tall by Chrimbo.  I wonder if the BBC will put him on show then?