Moma the culprit of Induced middle insomnia

I am artificially awoken most nights, while moma trots off to the toilet to have a piss. She can't help it on account of having diabetes. I've had arguments with her before over this but they get nowhere and it only succeeds in making the home environment more stressful. She has a mental thing going on where the only subject in her life that matters is herself and she is unwilling to hear what I have to say and do anything about it. There really are times when this whole scenario ends up driving me completely mad. Especially when each day I have to put in a full shift at the fish factory, a place which can be exceedingly stressful in itself. She will not change her behaviour and she will not seek additional help from the doc.  She is on medication but clearly her eating habits and medication do not match. Again it's the self-centred thing kicking in. She will not do anything about it so this means I have what is termed middle insomnia.  I just have to do the best to cope with it but it is not easy, not at all.

This also puts me in a diabolical situation with regard to what actions I take. If I had money I would buy my own house, but living in London this is a fairy tale idea. Valuations of properties have gone up so many times this is no longer a place to own unless you just happen to be an investor. It can make you feel stuck, there is also no chance for rental. Why for this is probably one of th emost expensive places in the world to rent. Rental costs are going trough the roof, London has changed into an investment opportunity and properties are seen as assett values by anyone who has a little bit of money. They are no longer just homes for living in. I don't see why I should work just so what I earn can go into another person's pocket. One of those rich fat cat's the Tory party loves so much.

The other thing is being retired momma sleeps during the day while she sits are her arse watching TV. I have seen her do it, she rests her head on her chin closes her eyes and drops off to sleep. So while I am at work trying to earn a crust she gets in extra sleep time. This is something I cannot do of course so it puts me at another disadvantage.

So here I find myself at just before 4 a.m. writing a blog.I had thought about getting out my ukulele and playing with it. This way the old woman would not sleep either. I'd get my own back, but really this is not going to gain? For it yet creates an atmosphere of tension during the day. Like two bad tempered wolves constantly snarling at each other. Moma has the advantage if the stakes were down. On account of being an old woman she is considered a vulnerable individual in law. Although from my point of view this is not true, she no longer works, has nothing to do with her life except watch TV and sleep sitting in her comfy chair at the same time. Whereas I have to work to earn a crust. It is a situation which could push someone to the edge, but it really is not worth it, it is not worth getting angry as getting angry does nothing.  It was like she was trying to mentally break me, I've learnt a degree of acceptance now.  In the meantime I don't want her to think things are OK so I will just stop speaking to her. Why should I engage with someone who doesn't give a shit and knows their own behaviour is maladaptive.

There are solutions but they are  solutions which mean going quite some way from the norm. Solutions such as giving up work and signing on (unemployed) so I can join the same sleep rota or sleep during the day.  Watch TV and do nothing, but I can't do this, for I am not retired and my income will be reduced to that of a pauper. Moma would also not like it as she would stop getting the rent she gets now from me.  There's the option of going homeless and sleeping on the streets. It would get me away from this situation now but most likely put me in a worse situation. Again it would mean leaving my job. There is the option of throw moma from the train, which I must say does have a certain appeal to it. I'd get some sleep if only for a short time. However the sisters in waiting would want the house I sleep in sold so they could get their hands on some money.  Both need it.
Then there's the option of going completely mad, maybe just not sleeping and then sleeping when I can or displaying sympons of a mental illness and getting myself committed to a mental institute, getting a decent night's sleep and then being let out again.  Eventually there could be an advantage to this situation for I to might be considered vulnerable and the systems of society might at this point provide me with a social housing tenancy.  But on the other hand society may not happen because I might not be vulnerable enough.  After all, here in the over crowded metropolis there are so many millions of vulnerable people of much higher need than poor little old me going mental due to an induced sleep disorder.  I can't see my situation actually cutting the mustard so to say. I would of been considered someone who had made themselves intentionally homeless, who had intentionally left their job and had intentionally tried to become vulerable by begin nuts. So the remaining options seem to reduce even further when I step back and look at the situation I am in. With recognition it seems, it is better to be here at the whim of a crazy old woman who cares only for herself no matter what the atmosphere turns into.  With this same understanding I know I should of left this property when I was young, rented a room and saved up to get my own house, that is if paying out rent didn't bankrupt me.

However there are other alternatives other options I have to consider. Getting a white noise machine, using the middle insomnia constructively. I have recognised the piss she has after 2 a.m. is the one where my sleep cycle is most likely to kick me into a waking state. At this time I could write a blog, or do the thing I would like to do which betters myself. Learn a language, play the ukulele, it depends though if I am awake and if I can open my eyes because sometimes being awake after 2 a.m. is fine but the eyes want to stay shut. Listen to the radio, I have noticed how sometimes I can literally fall asleep listening to the radio. Go out for a walk for this time of the morning is probably the safest time to be out and walking, there would only be burgulars out at unearthly hours and insomniacs looking for peace of course. Knowing my luck when I return to the house Moma will be behind the door with a kitchen knife and stab me. Her defence would be "Mr Policeman I thought it was a crim trying to break in." Hell what a bummer it would be. Then maybe I'd get some sleep. It's odd the worse time always seems to be the instant you are in. I must admit though my change in mental attitude has helped me cope with it. Until this is I got to the point of being crushed between sleep deprivation, stressful work and migraines. For given the right circumstances any individual is capable of doing anything.

Nope there has to be an alternate way to deal with this situation, of all things I have learned there are always other choices sometimes it is a matter of thinking outside of the box or on the bed, so to say.

A morning vomit

Getting up early on a Saturday isn't something I've done for a while but this morning it was a necessity. Having to hit the Fish Factory for a few hours and that was nearly all of a waste of time as well. So the usual routine had to kick in. Breakfast consisting of tea and a slice of toast with my own concoction on top. A pickled spicy pepper cut up, a tomato, a chopped spring onion and a sprinkle of black pepper. The radio sounded out and I ate.

But something wasn't right. I thought about the cup of tea. Now boiling old water which has been boiled before is not a good idea, it just has a funny taste to it and ends up not making me feel well. However, I had put fresh water into the kettle. Then I knew what the feeling was, it was the need to vomit. It kind of comes over you in a wave and there is a count down to the moment when it is going to happen. The waves of nausea get progressively worse then the vomit one hits and you had better be standing over the toilet as it does.  I'd got up the stairs quickly but didn't think I would. Somehow will power had stayed of the puke mechanism, it took an additional moment as I looked down into the toilet bowl and at the water. Then a wrench and this morning's carefully made breakfast with cup of tea regurgitated itself into the bowl.  It was a case of what goes down comes back up. I could taste for a second time the black pepper fortunately there was nothing in the way of bile. So it seemed my breakfast didn't have enough time to even partly digest.

Mind the rest of the morning seemed to go OK. I didn't feel like I had eaten nothing, because I had eaten, you could say twice, but it was once and the once was reversed. Funny that, the morning went OK but I just couldn't face lunch so ate chocolate instead. Yes, when you have an empty belly revert to chocolate it will fulfil all your needs, unlike toast.

Sunday morning insomnia

It seems the insomnia has decided to pop it's head over the wall again and take a look in on me. I an hear it saying "what's he think he's doing sleeping, well lets put paid to that!" After which it is like a light is switched on in my head and bingo full house. Completely alert but eyes closed laying in bed going through the usual list of insomniac thoughts. Which go something along the tracks of

1.Do I stay or do I go, lay here with eyes closed keeping still and trying to sleep again, in some lost belief it will come back again. I will find it like a long lost trinket and feel comfortable again. Sometimes this works and the early morning hours have just provided an interlude to what was a delightful sleep. OK wake up later than usual but you still feel you've had restful moment or two.

2. Reach for my phone, check the time, think to myself oh it is just after 2 a.m. I've slept for a little more than two or three hours. Can I get by on only this much sleep in a day? The answer is inevitably no I can't.  Then I wonder should I get my laptop, should I go and make a drink, if I open my eyes will they still be heavy and tired.  Now this is probably the hardest thing for an insomniac to deal with. Exceedingly heavy eyes and still being very much awake and conscious. Heavy eyelids don't mean automatic sleep. They just mean your eyes are tired and need rest.  Yet if you are conscious the oxymoron is you can't open your eyes and have to lay there in torturous torment,

3. Toss and turn and find another position to lay in. Because the insomnia is down to being not sleep comfortable.  This happens every single time the light in my head is switched on, it's natural, just try a little change in position. After which maybe a half hour passes then position is changed again and again. Always hoping somehow sleep will revisit it's kindly gaze. Yet it doesn't.

The morning soon arrives because it has already arrived but several hours earlier than expected. Like no one gets up to head to work at an unearthly hour, even if it could be a pretty productive time in the office. The systems will be down, the doors closed. There will be nobody in, no one to bump into, unless of course they to were fellow insomniacs and then we could have an  insomniacs club and probably not get on with any work anyway. Funny though how at such early times in the morning the mind can feel so absolutely awake and alert, focused when it knows it should not be. Perhaps we are tied to tightly to the notion of following a 24 hour clock, what would the world be like if everyone was conscious at the times they wanted to do and didn't follow a routine. There would then be no such thing as a typical working day for every working day could be atypical. What a thought.

It's now 5:30 a.m. and I've been physically up only an hour but actually awake three hours or more and now I can feel myself actually starting to feel tired again. So ironic, I can't help thinking there has got to be something wrong with my body clock, or is it my mind. I hope not. Somebody get me a shrink.

Blame it on the muggy weather

It has been hot in London even though there has been no sun. I got on my bicycle and had a little ride, funny how starting out I thought to myself there is no wind this is going to be a good ride. I swear after a few minutes it felt the entire ride was right into the wind. It was tough going and felt slow when climbing small inclines. The plan was to get out and buy some trainers which I did and then returned home stopping off at a Chinese for lunch.  The exercise had a two fold effect, one to get healthy and lose weight the other so as not to pay out in public transport costs. I don't mind riding on the bus except of course when it is overly hot and body odour become the in thing.  The thing about body odour is you can quite easily put up with your own but other people's smells somewhat rank. My legs felt heavy and I deserved the Chinese.  A little bit of pain means you have sacrificed for a little bit of pleasure.

Unusually the trainers I got are black, I got them on account of having a similar pair in Scotland they are Sketchers and found them to be pretty comfortable. They feel as good as a glove on my hand, though a little tight maybe. Wearing these will mean I don't have to wear walking boots and have some leeway now in choice with an in-between footwear. Sometimes boots, shoes or running trainers don't fit the bill as just a plain comfortable non running pair of trainers. Which these are.

  I like to have contingencies wherever possible. Maybe this is why I find myself walking and riding my bike more than ever before as I do my best to save pennies. I feel I am in a financial recession at the moment and am having difficulty making ends meet.  But there are a lot of people who are like this as well in the UK, with a second toxic Tory term this country is going to be bankrupt and go into an even greater recession than it has ever been in.  There it goes again, the doom and gloom prophecy of someone who would prefer to be out there doing something. I need a smack in the head and to be bought around properly. Or a jump into a cold shower to jolt me into cautious optimism and out of negativity. Still I can't help being a little upset with Sparkling.  I'll leave it up to her to text me tomorrow.

Perhaps it's the hot muggy weather, or the fact I didn't sleep well last night. Waking up at 2 a.m. and suddenly finding it near impossible to sleep. Awake but at the same time not wanting to open my eyes and strain reading anything or watching TV.  Maybe it was a little bout of insomnia and that has made me cranky, on the other hand I may not be cranky at all, I might be perfectly fine and the person I should be, which is me and no one else.

Insomnia and little feet scurrying

I got hit by insomnia last night, but I know the reason why. Having spent the entire day indoors and then drinking a couple of Jack Daniels and coke in the evening.  They didn't seem to do anything until I was in bed, the caffeine kept me awake. I lay there eyes wide open thinking I should of made myself get up, then got out during the day and had a walk. Strange because Sunday is usually the day when I make sure I get up and out for a walk.  Just for this very reason. In fact I've been getting out and walking a mile or more most days, one day I even walked over four miles.  Then sleep comes like a witch has caste a spell.  It works which is all I can say.  So I lay there, did a little reading "1984" by George Orwell and then returned tossing from side to side.  I got hot possibly on account of it having been a hot day and the house being hot.  At about two thirty in the morning I heard a sound I was hoping had gone away.  It was the sound of little feet running across the floor boards in the loft. Not the feet of a ghost but the feet of a rodent of some description.  Wonderful, now I could lay there eyes wide open with the though of a rodent running over my bed or even up my legs. Just what I needed to stay alert.  It's always wonderful how the fear in your own mind can play a lot worse on you than the reality of a situation.  So tonight I will be reading up on rodents and trying to understand their habits and how to kill them.  Yes, my next occupation could be a night time rodent exterminator. Always on call. Bloody things do they not understand human beings are probably the most intelligent animal on the planet and residing in one of their homes could end up in their very own demise.  They need to learn this at an early age, but being on account they are stupid they don't. Still worse they shouldn't pick on someone who has occasional insomnia it can make him very irritable to say the least.

Sparkling gets told on by Princess J

Sparkling told me the other day how she got told on by Princess J, all of nearly two years of age. So there is Sparkling in her car waiting on Rock Chick to come out of work to give her a lift and little Princess J is strapped in her chair in the back seat. So Rocks asks the usual question "how was your day?" to which Princess J actually answers, and says:



 "Princess on TV and Gaga say No. "

To which both Rock and Sparkling laugh, because Sparkling has now been grassed up by her grand daughter who.  Little Princess J was trying to watch a program on TV about Princesses and it was time to leave the house and pick up Rock.  Sparkling said "no" and said it a number of times, turned the TV off and headed for the car.  Now Sparkling tells me she has a set routine as well for taking Princess J out in the car.  She first put's Princess J in the driver's seat, where she stands on the seat and pretends she is driving the car with her hands on the wheel. She absolutely loves this. While she is laughing at this fun game Sparkling then has time to load up the car with whatever needs to be put into it.  She gives Princess J a few minutes to enjoy her pretend driving and then straps her in the back seat.  It is so funny when I think of the cheeky little girl who just about can see over the driving wheel when she is standing up.  She is so full of energy and so funny because she is an expressive little girl. Her emotions and thoughts can not be hidden, what she feels she shows and you can't help but love her in everything she does. She is a ray of sunshine.

When talking about Princess J's character both I and Sparkling agree it is as though she has taken two traits from her parents.  How she has inherited or learned them is unknown and it seems these are the kind of traits you would only understand if you knew both her parents.  First is the quiet determination and obstinacy of Rock Chick and secondly the emotional expression of Dangerous Sports lad.  With Rock she knows what she wants, she then goes and gets it in her persistent way, and with Dangerous he just cant help being expressive even if holding back his feelings would be to his advantage he just cant, sometimes he is a little girly about it.  This is fine because in Princess J those girlishness attitudes are OK,. unfortunately doesn't show much of her girly side, maybe it is early days. What I see is Princess J the girl who is going to lead the first all female expedition up Kilimanjaro or the South Pole. Sparkling told me once how they took Princess J to the park and let her run, well she took off and didn't turn back, they waited but still she didn't turn back.  When she walks she's just goes marching off in the direction she wants to go and doesn't look back either.  Maybe it's because she knows Gaga or Rock will be there chasing behind her to catch her, or maybe it's because she has her own mind.  I can see here one reason why people have children, it's the entertainment factor.  Of course this does not take second place to the enormous amount of love factor which comes first every single time.  You just can't help loving her.

Sparkling is hoping for a job to come through shortly.  This is doing a job she has done before, caring in the community.  The company she will be working for seems like a really nice company as well. The ethos has come from the founder of the company who did this work herself and then grew it up to over 400 employees.  She pays them well and her staff like working for her.  Most jobs of this description usually pay only minimum pay and this is also true of central London.  The value of work here is low, it is the job you get paid for and not how conscientious you are as an employee.

Sparkling is off tonight with her friends to see a spooky.  This is Scottish for clairvoyant.  It turned out the spooky was crap, she couldn't tell Sparkling there was an Englishman riding a bicycle and playing the ukulele in her life. Oh well, she can't be that spooky after all.

Who saw Princess Charlotte first?

We've all seen the pictures of Kate and Willy's new daughter baby Charlotte. Photos were taken the day after she was born and poor Kate who was probably still a bit wobbly at the knees showed off her little baby.  Awwwe so cute for such a silver spoon addition to humanity. Anyway the papers have also said today Queenie got to see Charlotte as well. Yet what none of them has let loose is the queen was actually the first person to see Charlotte anyway.  This was over a video conference from the midwife's mobile phone.  Now there was no way Kate could of seen Charlotte on account of doing a lot of huffing an puffing.  Then Willy was standing to the side holding Kate's hand telling her to breath deeply my future Queen whilst the midwife had one hand on her phone and the other guiding the crowning head of Charlotte from Kate's rather expanded vagina. A view Queenie didn't mind on account of her taking up a recent side line in doing Brazillian's.  All of this information is highly secret and sensitive so please do not divulge it to the media or any other commercial outlets. Copy written to this BLOG only.  Yes Queenie was happy to see the squashed up dosy face of baby Charlotte pop out because yet again the royal line of inheritance continues for another two generations before Queenie kicks the bucket.  She also did Kate's Brazillian so she needed to get a look to see how much her pubes had grown or not.  Personally I think this was going over the top, but apparently there are two corggies still in the vets after she tried her first waxing jobs.  As they say practice makes perfect.

Lochness Monster Eats Two Divers and a Dog

Today Google has put up a novel search page, telling us the search for Nessy has so far taken 81 years. 

Clicking on the submarine then treats the viewer to a video of a very English gentleman, with a grey unkept beard, stating he had lived there for 41 years and was still looking for Nessie. If you ask me he should of been doing something better with his time. Perhaps visiting a hairdressers, buying two dozen razor blades or even taking up lessons in speaking with a Scottish accent. Because it is a little more than disappointing to have Nessie Anglicised by a English man speaking, I'm sure in Scotland there are a lot of Scottish people available who could of said something about the most loved of creatures. In Rome do as the romans do, which is not to speak with an English accent. I am more than sure this man didn't hear about the episode of 1918.

Yes, although Google had elected to say the search for Nessy has been 81 years, the actual legend of Nessy has been going on for a considerably longer period.  It was in 1981 that Doug McGregor and his friend Fraser McDonald decided to do a little bit of their own searching for Nessy.  It had been a long beautiful summer this year which had touched the latter part of August as well. Which is surprising for Scotland because generally speaking the weather in Scotland is always colder, wetter and more miserable than it is in England.  Hence the dour outlook many Scots possess, not to mention the tendency to have pale skin and red hair.  Which is altogether a different subject, not related to copper.  Fraser and Doug were 15 and 16 respectively, they lived not far from Lochness and would often fish there, taking their dog Harry along with them.  This August however there had been five aledged sightings of Nessy. It might of been because of the gloriously long summer and on account of the water level dropping slightly.  However, for what reason it was we shall never know, just that Nessy was being quite active, or brave or maybe even because the Loch had become a place for people to spend time and staying cool. Hence it was more likely Nessy would be spotted. 

Fraser and Doug decided to swim in the Loch and they took with them some fishing tackle. They had been successful and caught a number of fish but Fraser decided he would now fish for Nessie. He hooked one of the fish on his line and swam out. Doug also thought this was a good idea and it is said they were both competitive lads so was not unusual for them to try and out fish even for Nessie.  Their dog Harry stayed at the shore. We know this because later on after the search for the lads a butcher's bone was found with a number of teeth marks in it.  Unfortunately neither lad returned home and Harry to was never seen again. Their clothes were left on shore, with shoes and bags they had put food into.  There were also several fish in a bag.  They had worn plumsoles and these were never recovered as was their underwear.  The entire village of Drumnadrochit, came out in search, the police were called in from Inverness and for a two weeks they rowed boats up and down.  They based themselves at Castle Urquhart from where the search was centralised.  But this was nearly a century ago and searching was not as professional as it is nowadays. They threw hooks in the Loch and just pulled them along hoping they would catch onto something. But it was like searching a haystack for the Loch is no small thing (24 miles long) and it is exceptionally deep. A stone is now place not far from where the lads went missing and their families mourned.  It was a sad time and this episode did not get into the papers of the whole of the UK because newspapers in those days were not as tabloid in nature.  Or it may well of been because of the saturation of news around the Great War.

It is said, Nessie did take the bait and eat their fish, but it is also though Nessie may of eaten Fraser and Doug as well. On late August nights the laughs and voices of teenage lads can sometimes catch the breeze as it rolls off the Loch where the last moments of these young lads and a dog called Harry were had.  Sadly though Nessie has become a phenomenon of comedy and crackpot monster hunters this event is forgotten.  Except of course for the little known bounty which was put on Nessie's head by the local priest, which still has not been collected. A small statue of Harry could of been seen until 1983 when it was removed or stolen.

Hairy nose and political ukuleles

This morning I felt a little spike on my nose. It wasn't a spike as in a real spike but a stubborn stubble, again a reminder it is time to get the tweezers out and check for the little blighters. They have become more frequent with age, it is a little like a tree. The age of the tree being told by the rings it acquires and similarly my age can be told by the number of dark hard hairs growing out of my nose. I don't mean those from the nostrils I mean my actual nose.  For it is a hairy nose.  This leads me to a self awareness of checking my appearance a few times each week and seeing whether they are noticeable. The last thing I need at the fish factory is to be chatting to a colleague and find their interest is

transfixed on the hairs growing out of my nose. Fortunately the weak uni brow is now kept under control also by lots of diligent work. I really am one of those fortunate chaps who is actually waiting for this fashion trend to become the in thing. Unfortunately rather than being a dedicated follower of fashion (Kinks) I've become a leader.  Except sometimes there are trends no one likes to admit to or be part of, on account of being different from the norms of the crowd. But I guess as you age you actually care a lot less about what the norms of society are and follow your own fashions.  My hairy nose is here to stay, all I can hope for is the rest of the world starts to suffer from the same short sightedness I'm suffering from as well. Yet another reminder of being old, getting old and of there being no point in turning back something you can't turn back unless you happen to be a celebrity.
Such as the late Joan Rivers, or the alive and kicking Slyvester Stilone, but then hair nose face could well be a bit more preferable from being plastic face.  Sparkling loves me, Princess J, Rock Chick love me and the few important people in my life love me and they don't stand there pointing at my hairy nose making jokes.  I can do that all by myself and thank god for the tweezers, my luxury item I would take with me on a desert island. I honestly could not do without them in any kind of emergency.


I had to take a double take this week it was when I caught an article on the news. The General Election 2015 is a few days around the corner, which I'm finding absolutely compelling viewing. it is so close so hard fort and we all have a good idea it will be a hung parliament. So there it was, Mr (Feck-the-poor) Cameron out and about doing a publicity thing to drum up votes having to face the ire of a ukulele strumming protester with a wonderful little song. Being I'm a ukulele playing crackpot myself and a harbourer of complete detest for anything which is Tory I loved watching this comic episode. Here it is ex-Prime Minster Cameron getting a little comeuppance from so beautiful small instrument the ukulele.

It is good to see a little extra in this clip and hear the views of people who equally see the Tories as evil basturds who have managed to increase the level of child poverty to a higher rate than any government has previously. In defence they will say there are more people in jobs than every before, yet the rate of productivity in the UK is no different than when they began their term. In addition GDP per capita has shown such little change it simply means the UK is going backward or is stationary at best.  The complete lies of Cameron and his multi millionaire pals on the government front bench have hoodwinked the British people only so far, mark my words they are going to be kicked out of government very shortly. However, the ukulele is not a thing which should be used for evil, and in this episode the power of the ukulele for the good of the people of the UK has really come through.  It is a secret sexy weapon of great, great value.  In this episode a moment of time has been captured which in my mind I will cherrish and keep in a closet to be pulled out when needed. Feck off back to Eaton, with all your Eaton chums Mr Cameron.

Well I must get out and do my Sunday walk, because if I didn't I'd be stuck here playing my ukulele and driving the neighbours spare.

Love from the hairy nosed man.

It all began with a drip and then a plumbing disaster

A few years back Sparkling had a external tap installed, to allow her to water the garden. It was put in using a kit bought from a large DIY store by her brother L & B man.  However, the pipe was made of a tough plastic, it ran under the kitchen mains, through the wall and out onto the back garden wall.  It  had been taped into the mains probably by some kind of self tapping screw device.  When I saw it, I didn't like the thing. Outside taps should be permanent things attached to copper piping in my mind.  Then one day last year something happened and it began to leak under the sink. A constant drip, over time the entire kitchen lino floor got soaked. Sparkling had said to me it was squigy. It certainly was.  I pulled up the lino and all the floor boards were wet. Then to try and stop this I turned the valve off on the DIY bodge up version of an outside tap.  It stopped leaking and the kitchen was left with no floor covering for a few weeks in order to let the wood dry out.

However, even though I had said to Sparkling the tap should not be used because it needs to be repaired she decided to turn the valve on and use the hose.  Coming back into the house she turned the valve back off yet it did not stop dripping again.  She sent me a message asking where the adjustable spanner was because she was going to tighten it up.  After which I rang her and we had a conversation.  The spanner was probably lost, I said she should not touch the valve.  Sparkling on the other knew all it needed was a little tightening and it would be OK. I got chastised for being negative.  I advised she might need to get to the cock stop and I said this also wasn't properly working so it might mean getting a T bar.  In turn her reply was it would be unnecessary and it was silly to think the water had to be turned off.  I said she will probably need to ring the fire brigade if she didn't have a T bar. Which I knew she didn't.  Advising the best thing to do would be to call a plumber in because the pipe fitting should never of been put in anyway. Her response was how absurd was I being saying she'd need the fire brigade to come and turn the water off for the street. I was over exaggerating.  She could not understand the mains outside was just for her house and not and in comedic fashion laughed at me.  In defence I asked who knew more about plumbing myself or her.  This question was battered away like an irritating fly, with did I know how much it was going to cost to call a plumber on a Saturday.  I had an idea it was going to be expensive but I also knew Sparkling was going to do whatever she was going to do with or without my permission because whatever I said was of no meaning or value to her.  Now it was a matter of her being right and me being wrong.  She went next door and got a spanner.  I thought to myself, I'm going to stay out of this and let her get on with it.  In a couple of hours time I would text her and see how it went.


Sparkling enlisted more help from her neighbour and from L n B man, as she and they went at the valve with an adjustable spanner and tightened it up. The leak had stopped.  I sent a message asking if she needed to book a seat on the Ark.  She thought I was being cheeky and said it was all fine.  So the pessimist was wrong.

Two hours later.  Instead of a dripping valve it had become a gush.  Fortunately, Sparkling was still in the house, she had intended to go out but sat reading some political debates on her tablet.  It was during this restful period,  the bodge up fitting had exploded because she had over tightened it.. About this time I was watching a youtube videos and was overtaken by a Tango flash mob in Spain and sent a text to Sparkling saying I wanted to be in a flash mob.  There was no reply.  I left it at that wondering what more had happened.  In turn Sparkling called L & B man who came in record time.  She answered the door, she looked a mess, drenched, wet towels in her hands, very stressed out.  She'd already had 7 towels on the line and it had broken under the weight.  L & B man rescued the day, he stopped the water and rushed off to get the plumbing parts to fix it.  Somehow the washing machine also had to be re-plumbed back in and fortunately there already were some fittings left in

with the tools. 

I was glad that little Princess J was not there at the time. For she has some kind of affinity with water and when she says the word she says it in holy reverence, pronouncing it as Watt-eeerrrrr and inevitable awwe.  She's the kind of  2 year old who likes to do the washing up so she can play with the washing up water and also drink it even though it is dirty, and soapy.  It would suggest she might be a late developer but it is hard to tell at such a young age.  Maybe the brain cells will kick in at some point and she'll stop drinking the stuff and leave the poor cat alone rather than run after him shouting at the top of her lungs MOW.  Thinking of cat, I'm sure he made himself scare at this time.

Later in the evening I rang Sparkling and found out it was all my fault.  For I was the one who should of got the thing fixed, I was the one who should also have put up a new washing line and if I made any kind of a judgemental comment on the phone she was going to put it down on me and that would be the end of the conversation. She'd had an awful day.  It was difficult but I was as sympathetic as I could be and had to bite my tongue to stop myself saying the inevitable words "I told you so." I'm glad I didn't for Sparkling would of killed me when I next got the chance to see her.  For as always she says I get brave when I'm on the end of a telephone and not in person. The other thing about being on the phone is she would be able to tell I was smiling.  Memo to self, start watching more plumbing videos on Youtube because the flash mob ones will not be of any help next time this happens.

Fallon's dastardly comment - 2015 UK Election

It's underhand, it's backstabbing, accusational, disgusting, sexist, racist, uncivilised, non Marquis of Queensbury, spat inducing, tribal and arse licking.  But, we all love it, or most of us do. The end of one government has taken place and the transition of another undergoes an election.  What is there not to enjoy about this time, for once it is as though the politicians are vulnerable and have to show a very public face.  Each attacking the other, sometimes in underhanded ways such as the recent comments by Michael Fallon about Ed Milliband's character.  Michael Fallon has gone beyond what is good taste and now is a devious character.  He is the Dick Dastardly of Whacky Races, the nasty bloke who will scare monger and do anything to get back into power.  Now some people will say that awful things are said at PMQs, indeed they are!  Which is a charade and mockery of the political system. However, when spoken at PMQs they are face to face.  Fallon has acted in a very un honourable way.  Whereas Ed Milliband's reply (also in this video) was polite and measured, we see Ed being the true diplomat and true politician.  His response is without doubt admirable. Ed has done himself nothing but good by acting in this way.  Fallon's comments border on slander and the worse thing is Cameron backs him up, but politicians are gangs and they always support each other. It is their leader who directs them and political commentators have said Cameron new about this before it happened.  He directed it.  This picks Cameron out as a weak individual, who yet again shows his aggressive bully side.  The statement was meant to shock, to shock vacillating voters to vote Tory.  The swing voters who are likely to be intelligent people and not idiots to be sway opinion because of this remark will have their own opinion.  Were I such a voter, this tactic is so obvious it would add to the negative items used in weighing up a party.  Furthermore, were a voter in Sevenoaks now I would be unhappy of Fallon's behaviour, it would not represented me or the values of British society held so dear to the Tories. I am sure voters of Sevenoaks will take note and ask themselves should such a person continue as your next MP?

It is said the UK is no longer in recession and is actually one best recovering economies, but we are still running at a deficit. Each year the actual debt of the UK gets bigger and it is now at 1.5 trillion GBP.  Over the last parliament it actually doubled.  It was the Torys who screamed and shouted the previous Labour party had taken the country into a recession, however they purposely did not mention there was a world recession at the time.  As a voting UK tax payer it seems to me there must be a time when the debt gets called in.  There has to be a moment when the bailiffs come knocking at the door.  We are importing and using more in goods from abroad than we are able to produce.  This also does not make sense.  The Tories say there are more people in work than there ever has been, if this is the case surely productivity would be higher than it ever has been? Yet it is not. So clearly the UK is more inefficient than any other country, it is unable to hold its own and does not have a manufacturing industry to compete with the rest of the world.  Certainly not anything like the German's who remarkably have gone from strength to strength since the last world war.  The UK has a lot of capital and it is in property.  Here because properties are so scared their values have skyrocketed, investors around the world are finding bank are unable to give them a decent return for their dollar, so the rich ones buy properties in London. Properties which over the last year have shown capital grown in the double digits.  What fires this growth is there are not enough properties to home the people of the UK so they are at a premium.  The worst part of this is that successive governments have not addressed the issue and homes are not being built fast enough and certainly not at the numbers required.  We need at least 200,000 new properties a year for the next 5 years to support our ever growing population.  Take a boat ride up or down the Thames and you will see empty flats easily recognised at night because they are the ones without light.  They are the ones who have been bought by overseas investors.  In the mean time people who cant afford their rents because of their low pay and high rent apply for benefits.  Consequently in work benefits have significantly increased.  When governments say they are going to reduce the Welfare Benefits bill this must also mean reducing the money ordinary working folk need in order to live.  There is something terribly wrong about this, and terribly wrong politicians have not done enough to combat it.

No doubt though as the days tick over and the chance comes for the electorate to sack their MP we get to see more dastardly behaviour.  There are many MPs who do not deserve to be in parliament for they no longer represent the people they should.  Michael Fallon mate, your one of them.

Sherlock - The Old Git's got Insomnia

Maybe it is something to do with age and not exercising enough, but as the years pass and my hair becomes more grey sleep is a problem. It's like sleep deprivation and grey are correlated statistically. I can prove it hell look at me.  Not so great is the fact it takes longer to look good. Or should I say to make the best of the assets I've got, the charmingly good looks are a shade less charmingly good looking.  With lack of sleep the bags under my eyes seem to have moved from small handbags to large longhaul, overnighters.  I got to be careful I don't trip over them. Being a man I can't get away with extra make up, there is no additional layer of plaster over this craggy face. However, probably the worse thing of all in age related insomnia is when you realise it is nothing to do with yourself.  It is everyone else around you.  Like they have formed a small secret society, have a log book of my sleeping habits and coincide their activity so they hit me right in the middle of a REM sleep. Induced insomnia that's what it is.  Just as the old git is about to enjoy a dream about chocolate or cheese someone goes to the toilet.  This time it was my neighbour.  At 4:28 a.m. I could hear the echo of a toilet roll as it was pulled from it's holdler, the little wheel it was on squeaked round and round. At first though I didn't recognise what it was, it just plane woke me up.

So there I am laying in bed gradually coming around because there was a noise. It is somewhere in the back of my conscious mind, in the bit between sleep and wake, it's kind of pressing on my brain because the noise could of been anything.  I also realised I was hot. Bloody old age and hormones were now kicking in, they both were hitting hard. If I'm not getting up in the early morning it's crying like a baby at youtube videos of rescued dogs. The normal sleep mind now was evaporating, I could see it like water in the sahara desert, just disappearing. I changed position, I removed some covers, I altered the ear plugs which are nearly permanently in my ears. It didn't work. Thoughts strayed as to what the hell the noise was which woke me up. It was almost like the roof tiles clattering when pidgeons used to wake up with the morning sun, but the room was dark.  At this moment a saying came to mind, something Sherlock Holmes said:

"...when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth..."

I thought to myself, shit Sherlock you can work out what the noise was, now lets just think about it. Of course the thing is sometimes all the possible solutions are not thought of, then it is the one you could not figure out which is the answer.  I came up with the following:
1. A mouse
2.A rat.
3.A pigeon
4. A fox.

I examined them in detail, we only just had a mouse and mice make a scurrying around noise as the tread lightly but noisily over things, and scrape them.  As for a rat I sure hoped it wasn't one of these but the noise was actually louder than what a mouse makes.  I thought if there was a rat then I'd of heard this earlier so it was unlikely to be a rat.  The pigeon was a good option but it was still dark out and I know they come out when it is light, there would of been a hell of a lot more of tile clatterings as well.  A fox, now this was possible but it dawned on me the noise was internal.  So my list had eliminated four possibilities of which it was none in all likeliness. I lay on the bed having removed th ear plugs just being still listening and hoping in part the beautiful princess of sleep would come and kiss me gently. She obviously didn't because she must of thought that old bugger looks a bet rough, must be the bags under his eyes.  Then I heard another noise. It was the neighbours. The always shouting at his kids neighbour must of got up to evacuate his bowels.  There was movement as the thud of footsteps through our waffer thin walls went down stairs.  If only this house were built in the 1920s then it would of been propper quiet. But it wasn't.  I heard him go out the front door and then drive off.  It was about 5:30 a.m. when I did decide to get up.  So in all I've had about four and a half hours sleep. 

I now know why old men are generally called grumpy old men, because nobody will let them get a decent night's sleep! 

Crying at YouTube videos, plrease rescue me

Sometimes I just don't know what is happening to me, if I didn't check to see whether my bollocks were still there I'd of thought I just changed into a woman. Such is the power of watching emotional moments on youtube videos.  This entire morning has been a drag and now it is a disaster as streams of tears flow from my eyes, I just can't do it anymore, I have to close down youtube and get out of this environment. For listed down the side of suggested vids is one after the other of tear jerkers.

It all began with watching a video about a mum talking to Dr Phil and confronting the parents of the teenager who had bullied her daughter. This was a bit odd in some ways for even the bully's parents considered the whole thing joke. Perhaps Dr Phil was not the right place for any of them to be. The next video was of a young lad who got bullied at school he was a large fat kid, and the bully was smaller, skinnier and insistent of trying to punch the fat kid in the face. He just kept on doing it, while someone was clearly recording the incident, probably to use it as a viral internet bullying record.  The fat kid had enough he just picked up the skinny little one then threw him on the floor.  That was all. The skinny runt was dazed and got up but stopped hitting him. I had seen a video a little like this before when the Gracie family got involved. They invented Brazilian jujitsu (BJJ). They in turn offered the victim free classes in jujitsu, which I thought was very good of them.  One of the things I'd love to learn would be BJJ.  But the real tear jerker was saved for last. It was of a couple going to a dog rescue centre in America. They were going to take in a bitch who just gave birth to 5 puppies.  On the way they saw a small dog tied to a fence, sitting in it's own urine and faeces. They unchanged it and decided to keep it. Apparently it costs $25 to hand if your dog to the rescue centre so it's common for them to be tied up not far away in the knowledge at some time they will get rescued.  They just can't afford it.  The couple went to the centre and there they got into conversation with a member of staff and found they were talking about different dogs and puppies.  In an ironic twist of fate they took in two sets of bitches and two sets of puppies.  In all they ended up with 15 dogs. I thought they had actually given the chance of life to all these dogs which would of been exterminated otherwise. I can't consider how desperate people must be to give up their own family pets. It seems to me looking after dependent house pets is a bit like looking after people who are elderly or sick. It is a moral issue, one which should be done because it is human. Yet, in America with they have the world's worse health care system. So privatised and corrupt it is nothing more than a machine for making money to shareholders. Although Obama might of tried to do something about it, it's a fully broken system.  I know for sure the health system in Cuba is a million times better. It's socialist and it's free.  The very last video I watched was of returning armed forces personnel who had surprised their families.  In one video while a family photo was being taken a marine stepped into it behind the grouping. A woman then looked at him and realised he was her son.  In another video the camera person was in the sea, talking to two smaller girls and a woman. They asked what they will do when their dad/husband turned up. The girls said they would tell him they love him and always would, the wife said she would say "come here I want your body."  Then in the back ground you see the water disturbed as someone is swimming close to the surface towards the small group.  Only to stand up in full frog gear.  It's the husband/dad. He says "Mrs S, I'm Mr S and reporting for duty. "  I cried and cried.

I blame it on the rain.  If it wasn't raining I'd of gone out on a long walk and then returned after another long walk.  I spoke to Sparkling Eyes and she was indoors as well, apparently it was raining in Scotland as well as London.  Sounds like we both need rescuing.

Temptation the breaker of diets

Today I have taken two steps back on my diet.  Now this happens once in a while, it's like the desire to pig out on crap food is more than I can cope. As the saying goes

I can resist everything except temptation

No truer a work was spoken by Oscar Wild.  Possibly this desire was the result of a busy though boring day at the Fish Factory. As always there is very little time to get anything done and still hundreds of emails drop into my tray, so I took a day of ignoring them and am sure something will explode like a hippopotamus with constipation and a bloated belly. 

The day has definitely been boring and this led me to get off the bus earlier when going home.  I took a detour and by some remarkable quirk of fate passed a church which had it's door open and a sandwich board standing out side. I read the print and though behold like the burning bush of fire and tablet of commitments the sign said "Slimming Club."  However the forces of gluttony were at work, they were driving me forward like a frenzy of galloping horses on LSD. So it was I marched pass the sign with no real second thought at all, because there was a plan in my head.  It went along the lines of, first get a bottle of diet coke then hit the chip shop then head home. The coke was essential because it works so well with Jack Daniel's, however, I didn't get the coke first and meandered past the chip shop because there was still a hesitant part of my brain which hadn't quite bought into the need to eat carbohydrates and put on a couple of pounds this evening.  Thing is the hesitant bit was distracted, that's exactly what it was for a man in the shop spoke out the words "why don't you come in?" Shite, that was it, I had been hooked. A few minutes later I walked out of Frank's chip shop with an open portion of chips and the proprietor had thrown in a free roast potato, fecking great, just what fat lad needed.

So now in my boated belly state I sit drinking a diet coke and JD, diet on account I am still on a diet and need to rid even more pounds than I did this morning.  The thing is since the Chrimbo holidays I have managed to actually lose 7 or 8 pounds, my target being at least a stone.  It's been slow going and will be in reverse if I keep this up.  Oh temptation what am I going to do about you, why do you haunt me and play cat and mouse with my desires with little warning? 

In the meantime I hear of Rock Chick, Dangerous Sports lad and Princess J have all been ill, they have some kind of stomach bug which means it's flow out of both ends.  If only I had that bug, I'd pay to have that bug. No work for a couple of days and life spent on the John.  When speaking to Sparkling Eyes this evening I told her of my awful break on the diet front.  How I needed to get a phone-a-friend-diet-buddy, to help talk me through these episodes. Her reply was she'd probably not of picked up the phone on account of being busy and then she went into play with my desires and say I would be wanting to eat the mini pork pies in the fridge.

If only I were slim again, the dilemma over food wouldn't be a problem, it would all be burnt off exercising, running and hitting the gym. Unfortunately the only thing I been hitting is my own conscience by giving into temptation. All I need is the strength of Hercules but in the form of will power.  Someone give us break, or a bight.

A boring Saturday

Well my Saturday has so far been a blank tablet, tabla rasa or to interpret a blank slate on which nothing has been achieved. Maybe not completely nothing, I did a film review of American Sniper and have been watching Youtube videos. The type of video I should not be watching. Ghosts, polotogiests, conspiracy theories about aliens and governments.  So all in all it has been a productive Saturday. Oh nearly forgot I'm still spending a good part of the day dabbling in a facebook online game which needs constant updating in order to progress.  This also is a solitary thing I do because I just don't like playing in a group even though the game is set up as a group activity. Why have facebook friends I'm never going to meet. In fact the definition of friend should also mean someone you actual see. Sparkling Eyes bombed me out this morning as she was doing her gardening so would not speak to me but we caught up this afternoon. At last.  The walls are not closing in on me so at the moment Cabin Fever is being kept at bay.  As a mild tangent to the day I checked the weather report only to find next Tuesday is predicted to have frost and possible snow.  Wonderful, so now it looks like Winter is dragging on to take down some of Spring as well. I don't know if it is me but it seems like we've had half a year of crap weather.

Yesterday I checked out facebook to see a picture of Princess J, whilst her mummy was out and daddy had fallen asleep she decided to get her little fingers on mummy's lipstick.  Although she probably ate as much as she got on her lips and cheeks.  I couldn't help but laugh and laugh. I have now seen the picture a dozen times and just love to see the Little Princess's cheeky face. This is the face of a mischievous adventurer who feels she has been put on this world to explore it in every sense. She has to get out and about and then she has to stay out and about as long as possible.  Not liking to be kept up locked indoors more than a day at most. Sparkling took Princess to a local children's playground, and while there she slid down the slide and then climbed up the slide, threw her dolly down the slide and then went down after it. On the swings she had to stand on the seat and hold on but when both I and Sparkling had our own hands on her to keep her safe she was unhappy, wriggled about and said "no" in her demanding voice. Like she knew what she was doing, what she wanted and it certainly did not involve any adult safety measures. She stood there and successfully managed to swing back and forth. I'll grant it was a gentle and small swinging motion while I and Sparkling had our hands at the ready to catch her.  She let go with one hand and began to fall forward. Sparkling was there. But Princess J did her own thing because it was what she wanted to do and she doesn't understand the consequences of what happens when she lets go.  All the time she smiled and laughed and had great fun.  It's amazing how infectious having fun with a small child can be. Maybe this is one of the reasons people have children, this as well as the enjoyment of making the child in the first place. lol.


It has not even been a week and I am missing Sparkling. In this evening's chat she told me how a pizza for two was calling out in her freezer waiting to be eaten, that she to missed me. I then saw an image of us in the kitchen with the pizza and putting our own choice of toppings on it. Sparkling would go for a generous helping of extra mature cheese, we'd throw extra green/red peppers ontop and when it came out there would be either chilli flakes or jalopeno peppers sliced up. It's good watching TV in Sparkling's company. I felt a tear or two trickle down from my eyes as I thought about it.  It will likely be about six or seven weeks before I get to see her again, so I'll just have to hold it together for the time being, book my leave and pay for a train ticket.

A spine tingling chill followed by ninja flu

I have been hit with the flu, it began on a Thursday, but not obviously.  Sitting at a desk while working a chill crawled up my spine. What is this chill I thought? Looking around the Fish Factory I could see some windows open.  The windows are always opened by people who sit in the hottest part of the office and noticeably they are usually women in the cycle of hormonal change. Their flushings affect everybody.  But still these women will continue to sit in the hottest part of the office and wear jumpers and then open the window. You couldn't write a comedy sketch on how nonsensical it is. They will sit there and complain about the heat but are so wrapped up an Eskimo would be jealous. In the meantime every other poor sod shivers away and some even put a coat on in the office.  Yet the menopausal woman will not acknowledge anything and just say "isn't it hot in here?"  I usually turn around and give them the evil stare, thinking through my evil stare thoughts well why the hell don't you take off your angora jumper and thermal underwear you so proudly tell everyone you wear.  I once asked one woman to close the window because it was could and she said the inevitable "but i'm hot" to which I replied "why don't you take your cardigan off then" and then she looked at me like I was the idiot. Hell no, this cardigan is glued to my body, I was born with it and I will die with it and it is not leaving my body.  So it is with hormonal menopausal women there's not much you can do because it's not just their body flushings sometimes, not always their brains are affected.  Give me a break.

So the Friday came, I still goes into the Fish Factory and know something is going well so I wear a jumper all day long. My eyes are starting to stream and the headache is about to kick in.  Like a Ninja the virus has crept up on me and began it's attack in earnest and I hadn't quite understood this. By lunch time it is bad, but being a soldier I struggle on. it's going to be a short day for me. I get out as soon as I can and head home.  In the door, up the stairs and straight into bed.  I stay in bed for approximately 36 hours, the first 24 shivering constantly even though I've borrowed the same Eskimos quilt to keep warm I'm just not hormonal and cant stop a quivering.  I might of been a long time in bed but it felt like I didn't sleep a wink my body was at some homoeostatic point and losing the battle against the virus I'd contracted. My head was killing me and had been both painful and dizzy for the the entire period.  Like being absolutely pissed and having a hang over at the same time.  When not one drop of alcohol had passed these lips.  No pleasure but lots of pain.

I got up after 36 hours because I was pissed off with it and didn't want to spend the rest of my life in bed. I wanted to know what life is about I wasn't going to die here.  I went out, walking up the road to the shops.  The walk was slow for some balance issues was going on with my head on account of my ears feeling like they were glued up. I call it glue ear.  I get some money from the cash machine and in part enjoying the hot sun beat down on me even though there was a northerly wind making it uncomfortable. A walk which should of taken not more than half an hour to go and return from took about an hour.  I got indoors and my legs were killing me. I felt weak, it could of been a marathon every muscle in my legs was crying out with the effort.  Indoors I nearly collapse and return to bed again. Intermittently during the day getting up and trying to do some things. The Saturday completely lost and the Sunday mostly evaporated into the air except for the marker of actually having walked to the Antarctic unaided and collapsing afterwards.

It's Monday and time to get ready and go to the Fish Factory, I feel I been robbed of my weekend and am still not fully right. Streaming eyes still, head not spinning like it was but still enough to be disorientating.  Coughing still, snotty nose, but I can cope with them but I'm not right for now I can feel the odd hot flush kicking in. They are sudden intense hot sweats. If not the flue then I'm turning into a middle age menopausal woman, I'm going to take the day sick, in either case it's an illness I still haven't overcome.

Stepping into a puddle

Well, it's Sunday again and as yesterday was spent on my arse watching movies and not even going out of the house once, today meant there were no excuses so it goes without saying much at all.  I went out on my usual Sunday walk, except perhaps just a little reluctantly.  The reason for my slow start was on account of frost. When I woke and looked out the window cars parked outside the house had this white frost on their roofs. It meant it was cold out and yesterday was bad enough feeling cold most of the day stuck in the house. If I was going to get cold then it would not be avoided. I put on clothes had a good hearty breakfast and with ruck sack on headed off.

Not far into my walk it is necessary to go over a footbridge. I could go an alternate route but this is the quickest way to get across a railway line.  It's quite a long foot bridge as well because it basically links up to a historical woodland area with old ruins.  Except the thing with this bridge is there are times when it does not drain water away well.  At the mid way point I saw this large puddle. Now the usual strategy is to choose a side to the puddle and hope it is the side which is shallowest.  This is not difficult either, well most times it's not. However, on account it had been pretty cold the night before I could help but notice how a lot of water seemed to also have a lot of slosh in it. Someone else had come to the same puddle and walked on ice in order to get across but the ice was not solid. There I stood for a moment looking at the puddle and wondering. Being a bridge there was no way around it there was only one route and it had to be through the puddle.  It was about 30 plus feet long or 10 metres.  All I had to do was get across and take one step after the other, hopefully if I had selected the shallow side then it might not be so bad.  I therefore placed one foot, toes and ball of foot first into the puddle.  My foot sank down to the bottom which was somewhat deeper than expected. I pulled it out the water easily seeped into the trainer.  It was obvious, if I crossed this puddle both feet would be completely soaked I would then have another two and a half hour walk with cold soaking feet. Trainers and feet were not going to dry out. At which I had visions of pneumonia and being laid up in hospital all for the sake of stepping into a puddle which could lead to severe health issues.  There was only one choice in reality. 

I thought back to a book I am reading which says you should make  your obstacles the way, which is to take advantage of them. I thought about getting some Wellington boots standing on one side and offering to give people a piggy back over to the other side, all for a small cost.  Then realised I don't have rubber boots. I didn't have the ability to walk on water because my trainer was soaking, I didn't want to get ill and still needed to get some exercise.  The one alternative was to head back, get new socks another pair of trainers on and continue via the alternate route. This puddle was the obstacle which was not going to be overcome in any other way. I even considered briefly the notion of getting a broom and trying to sweep some of the water away. Which would of likely been a diversionary task taking as long as my walk would of. 

So the moral is, sensibility will win over stupidity.

Dumb, stoic, dumber, more stoic and headless chickens

I'm reading this book about being stoic and seeing things differently. Or rather it is about learning not to see things through your own perceptions. It's OK for the author to think so but I can hardly run away from myself, as for these feeling things which flood out at times they certainly are not the easiest of things to take control over.  It is true we all have different tinted spectacles from which we view the world. Which makes it difficult to get to what is actually going on. It's about being dispassionate and seeing objectively.  Of course this is a continuous challenge, and in my mind probably one of the greatest challenges for all of humanity. It's about the way we react as individuals, about anxiety, distress, worry and turning something on it's head. Turning it around.

People don't like change. People don't like having to do things they know nothing about. I am one of these people as well.  The worst of this happens in workplaces, when the people above in a hierarchy seem to make decisions and give little information out as to what to do.  It is like they can have a secret society, behind closed doors decisions are made and those under them are treated worse than animals. At least animals are fed and petted during the day. In the workplace instead an email is issued, the email become a decree and must be obeyed except the thing is the email is in Swahili. This is the normal management way of giving information as a directive but not taking into account what it is working with. There is a problem, they want it fixed but then they give exceptionally little information about the problem, the hurdles which may have to be jumped or the interpretation of what the problem actually is. Often the question rises, what planet are these people on? How on earth did they get to become managers?  Usually they became managers years ago because there is a dead man's shoe progression in the management.system. The order staff are given is in many respects an objective served up by headless chickens. Staff then react, hence an instance of seeing things from a certain self centred perspective, just as the decree was in itself a self centred decree because no talking or discussion took place. In fact at times the entire work place can become a chicken factory or rather a chicken slaughter factory. All what is needed is a large freezer then the carcasses can be kept fresh and sold on.

When one person reacts and doesn't think it in turn leads to yet another reactive set of actions. It results in counter forces which push back. This is the nature of human beings.  So it goes being stoic is difficult to say the least.  I know when a directive comes to me with an exceedingly short deadline and how I react.  I don't like being a headless chicken, my headless chicken impressions make me feel stressed and I have to find a way of shaking my head and covertly thinking how dumb can the dumb become? Yes they actually can become dumber and make the film Dumb and Dumber seem like a Mensa drama. So one way to deal with something like this is not to react and try to find a calm and think.  I can't help but think I don't actually care if the decree sent downwards will be actioned, in fact given all the priorities in the world and given yet another priority job to do, I don't mind so much if it fails if the whole system explodes, because it would be a result of poor management.  It is like the decree does not take into account it is dealing with human beings, so I don't mind. What will be will be and my role becomes one of not handling the objectives but one of handling the people who are doing headless chicken impersonations.  Ultimately the pressures of a work environment can lead many employees to the brink of or actual mental breakdowns, especially where there are chickens involved.  At this point the stoicism does kick in.

The moral of the story, don't lose your head be stoic instead. Nice that, it rhymes.

An out of date IQ test

When I was in my 20s I took an IQ test set up by Mensa. Thinking I was smart and would get in. Before I took the test I went and had a chinese meal, which later on I thought was a mistake. On account of as your body digests food blood flows to the stomach rather than the brain. So I completed the test and an appropriate time later got my score. It was 133, I was disappointed because it was not enough to join Mensa, even though it was quite high.  I also recall the test I sat was about twenty years old at the time. So contributed my lower score to two factors. Being stupid and eating a large meal before I did the test and it most likely being out of date. Because when you think about it, questions set two decades ago are going to be different from the current day's relevant questions. The result was I didn't get into Mensa. So what. This became a minor chip on my shoulder because in part I wanted to join an elite group who think they are better than other people. A little like rich people might feel. Fortunatley the socialist part of me now thinks I am glad I'm not one of them, because as it turns out the odd person I did meet who was in Mensa in my opinion was a bit nutty. Sometimes nuttier than a fruit cake at Christmas. So to a certain extent it was fortunate, I'm not as smart as I think I am and do have a bit of humility.  Or I hope so.

Therefore the moral of the story is, don't be a smart ass because nobody likes self ingratiated idiots who have a few screws loose.

Preparing for an interview

Sparkling Eyes knows me so well, she said:

"Don't be fannying about with shit you shouldn't be doing when you should be doing shit". 

This is from someone who knows my propensity to procrastinate. To put of what should be done in order to advance a situation by doing something else less important and perhaps more leisurely. For example watching movies or TV programmes online when I should be getting prepared for a possible job interview.  It has been nearly 5 years since I last had an interview so I should prepare. To be said if anyone is serious about a job there should be a degree of preparation, preparation to be taken with diligence and insight. Putting yourself in a situation where you are being judged by other people as to what your worth is, you have to pass their standards not your own. The difficulty is trying to think as though in someone else's shoes. At times I can barely get into the mind of Sparkling Eyes and I know her pretty well, for once in a while she will do or say something which will completely throw me off guard. It is a purposeful thing, she likes to get a red hot poker of dilemma and shove it hard in my direction, she's looking for a response, a response which would put me into trouble and then it gives her a chance to chastise me or to see how I skilfully dance around the issue, which I must admit to having a good ability to do.  The kind of question which would have a black and white answer and by going either way you hang yourself, I know how to play hopscotch with. Maybe this will help me in the interview arena, maybe not.  The thing is, interviewers are looking for key items to be said, items which mean something important to them, items which should also be elaborated on to show understanding. And if possible a full and complete answer to the question with just maybe an answer which includes something they have not thought about, something which is valid and they haven't heard from anyone else but also worthy of a bonus point or two.

For at the end of the day, as Bruce Forsythe said "points make prizes" this is so with interviews. Those people or persons sitting usually behind a desk will be looking to tally up points for a set of questions which will be asked of multiple interviewees.  If it is a private company I would guess it is not just answers to interview questions being asked but something just as important they will be asking themselves "do I like this person?" it is not marked on the tally sheet put it is a thing they may have there more so in small companies where each person is likely to come into contact with the other person.  Something memorable, something which makes you human rather than a candidate on a list of many is needing to come out.  The problem is there are many people in this world and all these people in this world will be in the same situation. It could be like speed dating, where one of the most important things in the world finding a partner is highly unlikely to happen.  Finding a partner or "a keeper" takes a long time and takes effort. It is sad for individuals who lead fast hectic lives who think a two minute discussion with a stranger could lead to a life long relationship. I know for one if I was on a speed dating night out, which isn't going to happen at all ever in my life, that I would very unlikely impress Sparkling Eyes. I would get the oh he was nice but nothing special. To find that special ingredient it takes a lot of time and effort. Sparkling says I make her laugh and I don't realise I am funny at the time. So she clearly sees something I can't put on a CV or discuss at an interview.

So the research begins. First look at the organization you want to be part of, do a lot of checking on the internet about them, what do they do?  What are their goals? Get into their mind's but as noted above, with a caveat of it being subjective.  Get inside knowledge where possible, and then start writing up as many details as possible to questions which may be asked. All the usual questions, noting the first questions may well be warmer uppers and no points are scored. I've had that before. Get over interview anxiety, this is something extroverts may do very well at because they can naturally come across as sociable, however it does not mean they know how to do a job. For those introverts this may be a traumatic thing to overcome. Put it another way, you have to psychoanalyse yourself to the point you understand life doesn't rely on this interview it will go on when you walk out the door and catch the bus home.  My worse interviews have been for those jobs where I have put pressure on myself and got stressed and anxious, I failed myself but also the interview panel failed to succeed in getting the best out of me as well. However, you could say from their point of view if I can't answer questions in an interview how will I perform in a real situation. It is a matter of understanding interviews are imperfect and there is a degree of luck. However there is a saying which comes to mind in respect of this phenomenon called luck. It is:

"Luck is where opportunity meets preparation."

Being positive and get yourself prepared is the key to the whole process, just as Sparkling's wonderful little saying comes home to hit me in the face, because she knows I am a procrastinator.  Even now this very moment I should be getting on with research and question writing down and question answers, but instead I'm here doing this shit when I should be doing some other shit. Well the day is not over, things to do, places to visit, investigations to undergo, hopefully not too probing just enough to get the answers to some questions.  So the question is, what is the questioning going to be?