Schooling fish

One pint of Guinness and I felt drunk. It is amazing how low my tolerance can be to alcohol, but it's fine, I don't mind. I'm a cheap date. Probably too cheap. Which means I'd better be careful who I sit next to next time in the pub.

Today rather than think about my belly, which usually takes up a small part I was scheduled into a schooling session at the Fish Factory. It was a matter of learning the legal requirements in dealing with certain extra large smelly fishes. However, there was really only one word which came to mind during the whole event. It was "arbitrary" because there were so many different things to consider, the size of the fins, whether the fish was poisonous, teeth, who was most likely to be doing last weeks sharpening of the knives and would they have done a good enough job, it ended up like a session of how to swim in a quagmire. Which can take a little practice, seeing as there are many quagmires at the fish factory I think I got some idea on what to do. So the entire schooling was really quite a bit of a no brainer and the Fish Trader who stood up at the front sounded quite like they had never actually got their hands dirty, so the truth being, I just didn't feel I had much confidence or respect in the delivery. I threw in a wobbly and mentioned a couple of Latin words I think the Trader had no idea of what they meant, when if they were worth their salt certainly should of. I'm not actually conversant at Latin, it's just a matter of knowing the odd word. Or two. On occasion. Especially when they are relevant. So all persons present except for the Trader finished the day knowing they had been taught very little and some little fish do have a pretty nasty bite. But I'll not go into piranhas right at this moment because a few of them I'm quite friendly with.

The other thing is, when these high falluting Fish sort earn a higher proportion of sprats than yourself. It's then you wonder how on earth they got into the fish business when they don't really show the acumen worthy of their sprats. So it is always nice to make them feel uncomfortable, to do something about it by then asking awkward questions or stating things they hadn't even thought about. Sometimes I think they suffer from Hubris syndrome, or is it peanut brain disease, well I get confused it's one or the other. But at the end of the day, they will carry on with their full catch of sprats regardless of their proficiency. Sometimes you just have to give up and say OK folks you got the sprats, but my world is in a different ocean from yours'.

So it's no wonder I had a pint in the pub today. My name was written on it. It went down so nicely, just like a fish to water.

Go to bed laughing

I been catching up the past few evenings with a comedy program. Watching a few episodes each time before going to bed. This has resulted in a happy feeling, with all the nasty thoughts of life and it's existence or non existence temporarily evaporating. But of all things, there is nothing like having a good laugh before bed. Even though on one night I watched a horror movie, but think probably the other nights of humour had inoculated me from being attacked by zombies as I slept. Unless of course zombies were busy in somebody else's dream. If this is the case I got a good TV series they could catch up on as well.

Shortly I will be going to see Sparkling. Which may be another reason for feeling happy. Well it might be if I get the back rub promised. I'm sure I will, I'll evoke the law of reciprocal return. The one which goes along the lines of you scratch my back I'll scratch yours. If it doesn't work I'll just have to learn to whistle, and hope I'm not put in front of a horror movie, just because it's time to put me in my place. OUCH. No maybe I will not ask for the back rub. The thought will let me go to bed with a smile rather than hiding from a Chinese ghost man standing in a lift behind me.

Geese and a laughing Monster

Got a bargain at the pound shop today, it was the first four episodes of Ronnie Barker's classic comedy Porridge. I can't wait for a moment to see them. This evening I took Monster Boy out for a good long walk, probably about two to three miles and ended up well knackered. On the way back we saw an odd sight, as four Canadian Geese decided to join the horses in the fenced enclosure. They must see it as a safe haven from people. We watched as they waddled their way towards the fence, jumped over the bottom bar and walked past the horse manure into the field. I even videoed some of it on my camera. Monster boy has taken to running after the geese with his ball but on this occasion we were so tired from the walk we just watched them on their way. I also saw Monster Boy go up to a horse with a hand full of grass and feed him. It made me happy to think only just a week ago he couldn't feed the horses and now he is a old hand at it. In one swoop the horse ate the grass and then Monster patted him on the head.

I have got to realise Monster Boy loves to win at football and he loves to cheat while he is winning. All the cards have to be stacked in his favour, and it's me who has to be in goal. This in part reminds me of Sparkling, because she is quite the same when it comes to her competitive nature. Given any opportunity she will be hiding the aces up her sleeve. I then wonder if Monster has taken lessons from her, because he even picks up the goal posts and runs off with them when it's his turn in goal. I wouldn't mind but he does it when I am a mile away and have to run after him because my coat was one of the posts. But he laughs and laughs this very big smile, and one very large front second tooth shines out as well. His eyes have a glint of mischievousness about them which adds to his rogue winning streak. I get to be so happy I am cheated at football the game doesn't matter at all, just the laughter. It's the same laugher I and Sparkling enjoy in each other's company. In moments like these the wonder's of life and the universe are open and so simple and so easy to appreciate. Everything seems right and in it's right place.

Reflections of a belly

It's been a full day, and the odd thing about making days stretch to their full capacity is you want to stretch them some more. It's like the next thought in you're head is "what else can I do today?" For me the next thing on the agenda was to put something on my blog, so here it is. Creepy.

After gym I checked out my physique in the mirror, for some reason it didn't seem to match what I actually see. When I look at myself I see a slightly overweight middle aged bloke, but the mirror said "hey fat boy, you're not the fairest of them all, that's for sure." It seems even inanimate objects have their opinion. Seeing as a lot of body beautiful people are probably checking out their toned Roman like six packs, the mirror saw my rather over the belt blubber and just couldn't help itself. The blubber belly took offence at this and then made me walk away to finish packing up and head out. It's got to be a matter of old age creeping up, and now it is well and truly crept up. Crept up and given my waist line a bag of potatoes to carry about. King Edwards I think. Unfortunately there is not enough middle aged people in the gym, there are some, but not enough. So I'm really in the vanguard of my age group, pushing on forwards and trotting loudly on the machines. Loudly because my footfalls are somewhat heavier than they used to be. But the machines can keep up, of the time being. I'm not so sure about me.

I have had it in my mind to get one of those felt tip pens, which can write on glass. Then I could draw pictures on the mirrors in the gym or write little messages for the beautiful people so they could not appreciate them. Just in order to wind them up a little. However, I'd have to be quick and there would have to be no one about at the time, so it will probably never happen. I don't know what the infatuation is with self beauty but a lot of younger people seem to show it. Mind they are not the only one's. I heard this morning on the radio of a new facial cream which was being sold by Boots and it was proved to actually work in diminishing crows feet etc. Apparently it sold out so fast there is no more in supply to put back on the shelves. Wish I'd of known about it, because if I ever do get to slim the beast of a belly down, I'm sure to need some of it to fade away the stretch marks.

Bacon got my goat

In an effort to do something over an ever increasing girth, I've been busy over the last two days. Gym yesterday and today a walk with Little Monster Boy. When I got back from the walk I felt tired and could of so easily just closed my eyes and fallen asleep. But instead I went online and before long found myself having a head to head with Sparkling.

My audio memo's have been collecting and I've began to write them up. They are notes to myself about my thoughts on how to string together a story. Character's, plot lines and many other things. In fact it is becoming quite complex. But in writing them up, I can see a lot of material waiting to be put to use. It is surprising how many things can be pulled together in a short time. Part of the discussion I had with Sparkling was because of my writing up these notes. She thought it was creepy, her word not mine. Which made me mad. They are my personal thoughts and they have a constructive and progressive feel to them. It's like a seed growing in my mind. As I write them up things become clearer, they may be all muddled observations but I can see something coming together.

I recall in psychology the teaching of visual perception in which reference was made to Gestalt Psychologists. These were psychologists who understood how the mind pieced things together, how leaps and assumptions are made about what we see and then create illusions. Gestalt is a German word, and it means something along the lines of: the sum is greater than the parts, or the big picture, so to say. This is how it feels to me in writing these notes. And rather than just sitting and doing nothing, I now feel I am actually being active, progressing. Although in small steps. So it was no wonder when Sparkling used the word creepy, I knew she didn't understand and I got mad. In turn I tried to remind her it just so happened to be two Scottish people who have returned to Mexico and brought with them the Swine Flu virus. So now we're not talking.

Well I think tomorrow morning when I get up I'll have a nice crispy bacon sandwich for breakfast, now isn't that creepy?

Weird dreams and ghosts

Had another weird and crazy dream this morning. Unfortunately it wasn't the one where I have a million followers on my blog. Come to think of it, I've never had such a dream, just a wish. No this morning's dream was I suspect because I got up early for the Fish Factory. Then when I left the house I forgot my phone. Which meant as the doors to the fish factor were closed and I had no way of communication to those inside to come and open the door for me, I was going to have to wait until someone came along who did have a phone. Fortunately for me there was already 2 people standing outside. We got in eventually. The dream must of put me in an absent minded state. I had done the usual morning things and just left, walking to the bus stop I was thinking of the dream. There's nothing fantastical about it, it was just a semi comatose hallucination. One in which people joined a church because they were giving a way free food. I did some investigation to find out what the catch was and found the free food was all out of date goods. There was a massive court yard where a small platform stood a few inches off the ground. It would be on this people would stand and sing. I didn't see this happen, I just seemed to be piecing together a jigsaw, like the clues in a detective novel. The ones scattered around so you can put them together and deduct who did the dastardly deed. Needless to say I didn't get to the bottom of this deed and what this church was gaining from it's followers. But of course as they always say "follow the money" where there's a church there's someone creaming off the top. No matter how devout the followers are, it's all about the money. Or in this case the free packets of corn flakes and outdated food stuffs.

The other night while chatting to Sparkling she told me how she'd had a problem getting to sleep. On how one night she had slept with the light on. It was all to do with ghosts and ghoolies. She's been scaring herself witless. While sitting in the office at work she said a couple of staff had heard the sound of horses hooves. Apparently there was nowhere they could of come from. This got them on to thinking the office was haunted. Other things had gone on there. Personally though I don't believe in these things but I do get the creeps about them. I can't help it, I'm easily scared. But I don't believe them. But rather than shrug off this event, the girls got their gossip hat on, the on and started to talk about ghosties and things. Sparkling did some research to try and find out about the office. It turns out it and the surrounding buildings are built on an old grave yard and wood. Hundreds of years ago there used to be highway men there, robbing people as they went past. Of course being on a grave yard sounds creepy enough, but try saying to someone with a irrational mind it's the place where people are dead first then buried it has no effect. I mean, in reality if there were such a thing as ghosts but there isn't, they would likely be at a place where when alive they suffered pain or torture. Odd as well how when we have to invent ghosts they have to of been the victims of something nefarious. There just isn't such a thing as a happy ghost, one like Mr Blobby, or perhaps Abbot and Costello. It's the same old story. A place where ghosts frequent is because they were in either agony, pain or a psychological disturbance so bad they have to come back to let everybody else know about it. Come on now, get over it. So yes, Sparkling had scared herself to the extent she needed the light on in order to sleep.

In my dreams I don't have to worry about ghosts, just being over fed on free food and religeon. Well at least I can have a good laugh over it. As for ghosts, just pull the other one, it's got bells on it.

Colombian moles

I'm not sure but the difficult to get to sleep nights are playing chequers with me. I wouldn't mind but having a morning nightmare dream doesn't help either. I'll get to the point where I'll never want to sleep again. Sparkling occasionally doesn't help when this happens, as she takes pleasure in vexing me to her delight. But saying this she has been good lately. I just wish I wouldn't dream about being associated with a Colombian drug dealer, living in a terrace house. Or the fact he invited me to dine and as I was staying in the house as well I didn't make it on time. So was told I'd not get anything to eat. I thought you were supposed to forget dreams, or most of them, I wish I had. It left me feeling helpless and concerned when I got up. Fortunately there's not many Colombian Baron drug dealers living in this part of the world. Well, not at the moment. I have got to stop watching import TV shows from America.

Sparkling has told me about her appointment with the doctor. It turned out to be a follow up appointment about the mole which had taken up residence near her eye. He was called Fred we'd made jokes about Fred, and when Sparkling realised he was getting bigger she decided to do something and got him removed. In today's debrief she found out Fred was a rodent ulcer. The doc now said Sparkling has now to keep out of the sun and to come back in 4 months time just to check how her face is healing and nothing more has returned. It was a bit of a shock for Sparkling. I recall, shortly after the operation she was complaining at the size of the scar and wanted to beat the doctor up. The scar felt a lot bigger than it actually was, but fortunately she got through her anger towards the surgeon. A little bit of convincing it was just a little thing helped. It was a shock to me as well when she found out today as well. I know nothing about these things and like Sparkling just didn't know what to expect when she had been booked for surgery. It's all to do with sun light, it is bad for the skin, so she now has to keep covered up. The problem is you can become paranoid at any blemish or growth when something like this happens. However, I do know of someone else who has had a couple of skin cancers removed from her skin but still insists or sun bathing. Which seems stupid to me.

No matter what happens to Sparkling I always think she a beautiful woman, and has a great sense of humour and wonderful character. I told her so and now can't wait to my next visit to see her. I just hope she doesn't intend to play on my bad dreams. It's bad enough trying to sleep with dreams of Colombian gangsters, let alone any other complaint.

Sunday, carotino, and the sound of silence

Today I was woken up early, the knock was from Silly Sophia dropping off doughnuts. It was good because Little Monster Boy who had been staying over got to see his mum. He was happy to give her a hug and know she'd be coming to collect him later. The waking up was bad because at 7:45 a.m. on a Sunday. I was expecting to sleep in to at least 9:00 a.m. then slowly merge into the day. Big moma had plans so she took the Monster off to Greenwich for a walk and to feed squirrels. It kept them both occupied but left me in to do the chores. They got the best deal.

The rest of my morning and part afternoon was split between bashing the carpets out in the garden and making lunch. Lamb chops, they turned out pretty OK. I been using a different oil to cook them. It's an Australian oil and called Carotino composed of red palm and canola. It's supposed to be vitamin rich and have no cholesterol. It cooked them pretty quickly so I ended up slightly overdooing them. Though I might not use it on the roast potatoes next time. They seemed to soak it all up and I thought afterwards, the calorie intake must of been high. It also has an orange shade to it, the taste is nondescript, but at least it's not lard. So it will not fur up my arteries any more than they already have been.

I rang up Sparkling and Rock Chick answered the phone. She's having a problem with her boyfriend. I can't recall what I last called him, but it was probably something along the lines of curly hair boy, however his hair has since been cut. So lets just call him the boyfriend. Rock is unhappy with him because he seemed to ignore her when he last visited. He is away during the week on a training course and comes back at weekends. Rock Chick's solution to the matter is to let him know he is out of order, she does this by ignoring him. Not replying to text messages and letting him know by thought transference and a previous telling off he is being a moody strop. Sparkling advised me the best cure for men is to have their balls cut off. This would apply to the boyfriend, and I'm sure it would apply to every other man on the planet as well. In response each time she mentioned cutting balls off, I said it was not the solution. But it really didn't matter much about what I said. I could hear the sound of a knife blade being sharpened. I think the boyfriend doesn't know what he's getting into if he is not being as nice as he should be to Rock Chick. I do so hope Rock sticks with the silent treatment first before taking on any of Sparkling's notions of how to deal with men. I wouldn't want Rock Chick getting a reputation. Or the nick name of "ball collector" no, no not this early in life. Later perhaps, after maybe 30 years but not at 16, it's too early. Mind, I've had the silent treatment, I know what it is like. It's quite nice actually, except for the door slamming. No, I shouldn't say such things. Anyway if the boyfriend don't watch it he'll be getting the big E instead. Life goes on Rock, there's always another frog to kiss round the corner.

Hopefully Sparkling sees me as a prince unless the spell has worn off. Must see if I can get another appointment with the Wicked Witch of East, she was useful. Though I did notice she to possessed some sharp utensils, and had five eunuchs waiting on her every desire.

Some Horse Chat

This evening I took Little Monster Boy out for a short walk. He had been cooped up all day so was near the point of bouncing off the walls. The plan was a little bit of football and a general wearing out of his internal battery. We chatted though not much, jumped on large rocks playing "had" and then went to feed some horses with handfuls of grass. Monster said he had never fed a horse before and so today he wanted to feed them. Then he told me what to do and I had to feed the horses first. I suppose it was a matter of getting his confidence up, but I did ask him what he'd do if one of my fingers got eaten off. He thought about it and didn't say much at all. Fortunately my fingers are still intact. The problem was once Monster got the hang of feeding one horse he wanted to feed each one we passed. There were perhaps half a dozen tethered to long metal link chains on the grass, each separated from the other. Some we fed, some we didn't, especially the large brown run who was trotting about in a feisty manner. He was bigger than me and because of his behaviour I thought it best not to try our luck. Whereas one of the smaller and younger horses accepted grass quiet readily from Monster but spat my handful out. For some reason he didn't like me but Monster boy was OK.

There was a man tending one of the horses and Monster wanted to feed this horse. So I said Monster would have to ask him for permission. There was of course no problem, so I spent some time chatting about the horses to him and was amazed to find out a few things: The eldest horse around he said was 61 years, however he was likely dead by now. Horses discriminate the grass they eat, sometimes they will leave certain patches of grass alone. They smell the grass and just will not touch it. On the subject of smell he told me about their water. There were pretty large containers available for each horse to drink from. I was told if a big dog peed up one of these containers and the urine splashed into the water the horse would refuse to drink from it because they could smell it. Neither would they eat hay which dogs had pissed on. Also I learnt when horses sleep, their joints lock up, being an idiot I didn't at first get this point it's because this way the horse will not fall over. In another discussion about giving birth I was informed when you see the front hoofs of a foal it is only a matter of ten to fifteen minutes to the foal is born. Immediately I knew a lot of mother's out there who would be amazed at the idea and wish it was true for humans as well. Then if a foal was coming out head first it was not good news. You'd have to wait for a moment when the mare was not pushing, put your arm into the mare find the forelegs and then pull them up. This is exactly what a vet would do in any course. Mostly though, he said the mares had their foals early in the morning and he'd just turn up and there they would be with their mother without the need of any intervention. I had quite an enjoyable chat. There were other aspects we talked about and I certainly learnt something from it.

Monster Boy asked the odd question one of which was whether horses were vegetarian. The man laughed and said he thought they were. I asked if Monster wanted to come up sometime with a chicken curry and see if the horses would like it. You never know, maybe it was why the big brown one was so feisty. But I wouldn't start on the Madras first, a straight curry would be ideal. As for the next morning, then I think I'd give these equine fellows a bit more space than normal.

An Easter smile but not from a teenager

When I look over my Easter weekend, the most enjoyable moments were those which involved Little Monster Boy. Especially, kicking a football around. He has this propensity to laugh uncontrollably when playing football. Trying to tackle him he would say to me "no tackling" then when I had the ball he'd say "tackling allowed." I would run after him and he enjoyed every second of being the one with the football keeping it away from me. The big smile and happy eyes he had was the highlight of my Easter. Even as I sit and write I have a smile on my face.

Sparkling has sprained a muscle in her back so will not be playing any kind of football at all. I feel sorry for her because Rock Chick has been demanding she have a night with her friends round, which could lead to a sleep over. This is unfair when Sparkling has work to consider or more so with her backache. Even though Rock Chick was told earlier evening parties would have to be restricted it's like the words have not gone into her brain. Personally, I've said to Sparkling all teenagers need to be put onto a desert island, with a tin of baked beans and a can open. Leave them there for ten years and then they can return back to society.

Teenagers don't have any conception of the responsibilities of living, paying bills, putting food on the table, and keeping the cat in biscuits. They can't understand if you have to be up for work in the morning how a bunch loud, happy go lucky, couldn't care less juveniles stop you from sleeping and how this will effect your ability to work. Which in turn could lead to a reprimand at work, or worse still even the sacking. It's the chain of repercussions teenagers can not get. They are lost in their own fantasy lands of what matters. Things which matter being social discourse with other teenagers, how good this blouse, shoes, or mascara looks. Who's hot and who's not. What music is cool, what is retro but cool and what is just rubbish. They focus nearly always on themselves and their conveniences, with little consideration of how their luxuries came about. As another saying goes, youth is wasted on the young. If only we could all be Benjamin Buttons.

Easter bunny gone

Easter is nearly over, yes the bunny has legged it and during this time I've realised a number of things. Firstly, chocolate Easter eggs don't taste the same as they used to taste. During eating one my teeth began to hurt and I then had some kind of dizzy spell come over me. Heart palpitation thing. So I can only put it down to being too old to eat Easter eggs in the first place, it serves me right. Secondly it's difficult finding what to do with your time. So I spent it watching TV programs and going out for a daily walk. The walks were perhaps the most valuable part of my Easter. At least I was doing something during the walks. Walking. Which is good for the exercise, heart, lungs those sorts of things, they enjoy walking. Though, I must add brain, yes, my brain enjoyed the walks as well. I used them inevitably to think, clear my head and record notes on my phone. On checking my phone I found I now have 29 audio notes. So maybe I'll begin my next Easter project and write them up. Which is more constructive than sitting watching TV. No wonder I'm getting fat.

Sparkling has been working hard these past few days. She seemed to think it was January when I last saw her, but it was March. I recall we saw the film Watchmen at the cinema and while I was there it rained a lot. It seems the last 2 or 3 times I've visited the weather has taken a turn and followed me. Fortunately we're over the cold spells, so now it's the raining overcast spells. When I say spells I don't mean as in wizard and witch spells, because those things don't exist. I mean as in short periods of a few days.

Last night we talked about having a holiday. Something away just to have a break and camping came up as an option. Although I can see Sparkling's enthusiasm, once she has been bitten by the wild life enough times I'm sure she'd prefer something inside. She also thinks it would be fun living rough off the land, smelling of the land, which meant not showering. I really do like her enthusiasm, but somehow not having a shower for a few days doesn't do anything for me. It's like going back this far to nature is a bit too far back. She is certainly right about one thing. We need a holiday. A break away and something on the cheap. With the recession and all, it will be a few more years before we get a chance to go abroad. Well whatever we do it will be fun. Going to have to get my head down and do some research. I wonder how far a fiver will get ya.

Hairdresser and chocolate

As the weather has taken a change for the better, I decided to hit the hairdressers after doing a hard day's graft. I got there late and as I waited there were 3 customers in front of me. Two were being attended the other awaited his turn. It seemed I was waiting in there at least an hour before I got my locks sheared. One of the barbers was slow. I felt sorry for the other guy who was pretty quick and efficient, he'd cut my hair before and I gave him the usual tip. He was faster as well. And now I look all trim and proper on top, he did such a good job I don't think it looks like I'm going bald at all. But then in the morning in a different light who knows what it will be like.

I got indoors after a pleasant walk and rang up Mrs Talkative, she had left instructions which were relayed to me. The next time she came to visit, give the children their birthday money or presents all at the same time. This annoyed me, I didn't react instantly though I could of, instead I just made tea then returned the phone call. I said birthdays are special days, the day of birth so you don't clump them altogether in one sitting. I kept calm, but had my I-am-not-accepting-this voice on. I also spoke with Princess Talkative and was surprised to actually get a real conversation out of her rather than single words like "alright" or "yes" or "no," she was funny. However, Princess Talkative had a gripe, because her favourite TV program wasn't on the telly all the time. She told me how she flicked through the channels and kept looking for it, but it just wasn't on when she wanted it to be. Awwe I thought. How children love to be instantly gratified by their needs. This proved to be true more so when I was told they had all already eaten their Easter eggs. They liked chocolate and couldn't help themselves, or rather they did help themselves and polished the lot off.

I love chocolate as well, but I'm still thinking about my over due appointment to be fixed with the dentist. Sparkling reminded me of this when she texted me her teeth had been polished up at the dentist. The reminder was like dying of a thousand cuts. I got to give them a ring, before they all drop out. Hopefully not.

Grand National loss and an atheisitc dilemma

The Grand National was on Saturday. The same day I had mate problems, but it didn't stop me from having a little flutter. I got home early and was able to watch it on the box. One of the horses I bet on was Stan, it was a tip from Sparkling but she did warn me saying it probably had 3 legs. When I turned the TV on the odds had changed from a few hours earlier. It had dropped from 100-1 to 50-1. One of the bookies said the punters were betting on everything, it was unpredictable. However, to his chagrin he made a prediction whoever the winner was going to be it would not be anything at 100-1. He got it so very wrong.

I realised this the moment there was a false start. I thought to myself this means the horses on long odds will have a better chance. Unfortunately at this moment I could barely run to the bookies and put another bet on. The start is an important part of a race, and all the good horses would have burnt themselves out a little by jostling for places and getting a good head start only to find it was to no avail. As I watched the race unfold another year passed and a few minutes later, not a single one of the 3 horses I bet on came in. I wouldn't mind I had also bet on a favourite. The winner was Mon mone, at 100-1; inside I was withering wrong again, another loss. Well it will probably be a year before I bet again. I hope so. I can't believe my luck.

Last night with some free time on my hands I checked out atheist groups. Although I am agnostic as more time passes I find myself tending towards the argument against belief. Especially because Dawin's theory of Natural Selection just is so credible. A simple but brilliant idea and a complete shift in thought at the time. Darwin by the way was a naturalist as a hobby rather than a vocation, his life was going to be planned out as a minister. It's odd how it went the other direction, but incredible.

Going back to atheism. I checked out some web sites to try and find if there was a group near to where I live. Nothing seemed local to me, but there were some things going on in central London. One of which was a talk happening at a hall. It looked pretty interesting. It was about women and their role in Islam. By a controversial ex Muslim woman I'm sure I had seen her talking on TV. I pondered on booking a seat which is in a couple of weeks time, only to find the event is sponsored by a gay and lesbian group. Which has kind of put me off going. For a couple of reasons. Firstly I have to ask does this mean I have to be gay to be able to go to the talk? Secondly, I don't want to be gay and or picked up because someone thinks I am gay. I then wondered about bringing along my older nephew. But another thought occurred to me, if I bought him along would this mean I'd be looked on as an older man with a young bit off stuff boyfriend. The whole thing now has got out of hand, going is a dilemma. I'm not gay, I don't want to be picked up and I don't want to be thought of as gay. Even being an atheist seems difficult in these circumstances. I can hear L & B man saying right now something unpleasant, and using a not very nice phrase.

Anyway I've revealed to Sparkling how I suddenly found myself out walking and talking to myself. Maybe I'm not as normal as I hoped I was. Decisions, decisions.

Little monsters, friends and vegetables

It has been a beautiful day. The sun came out early, so did the pigeons, it seems they don't take any day off. The weather report for the week is all down hill, except maybe for tomorrow.

Then Little Monster Boy was dropped off so I was his main source of entertainment. This meant going to the park and running around after him. There were no other children about until we left, and then two father's turned up with their little monsters. It was enjoyable, the entertainment free and the cost a Star Wars comic, crisps and Ribena drink. I'm sure when he get's to be twenty it will be more expensive and a push on the swings will be out of the question. It's amazing how nuts most of the family can be except for the children. Well, until they grow up, then they become as nuts as the rest of us.

Worse still are friends. Especially those long term ones who you find it an effort to continue the relationship with, because you don't want to step on their toes. I have in mind one of my mates as I write. He has let me down and now I'm at the point now I have decided not to have anything to do with him. For at least a few months. He doesn't like disputes and is unable to take any type of confrontation which he may feel is stressful. So when I have to talk to him about something I usually do it as gently and tactfully as possible. But seeing as I have now been let down one too many times it's over as far as I'm concerned. I was the the one who'd be ringing him up and trying to get him to do stuff. I can count on one hand the number of times he has felt a need to ring me within the last two or three years. So it's lopsided. He likes to be secluded, it's his choice so now he can be a little more secluded.

The problem is finding new friends, of which I'll freely admit this is one of my biggest issues. I just don't like having mates for the sake of having mates, there has to be some kind of connection. An enjoyment of their company, something to talk about. Some people have lots of friends but to me this sounds like they can't put up with their own company. Family you can't help, regardless of how crazy they are you can't change them. They will always be there, although it's not uncommon for them to split up and no longer communicate. So the question is how do you actually make new friends, important ones to yourself. People in the fish factory I've never really seen as friends, to me they have the status of work colleagues, it is formal and polite. Or in some cases not even polite but tolerated. Being in any kind of friendship with work colleagues feels to me like something to avoid, even if they are nice people. Maybe it's wrong, but I do my best not to include them in my life outside of this arena.

I hear Prince Charles talks to plants. Now this is a man who can have as many friends as he likes around him. But whether they are real is another question. Talking to green bushy plants might be a solution. As long as I don't have to say sorry to them when I need to give them a prune. Further if I chose to grow potatoes for instance, would they be upset at me digging them up out of the garden and eating a few every so often. They say there is nothing like your own vegetables. Yet these would be real vegetables not the one's who live in houses down the street and who's first name you know. Which of course would be an insult to the vegetable kingdom. Now I think of it, I will make it this year's project, carrots sounds good, even onions. Well I'd better get searching for some new friends, I mean seeds.

Teenagers have it easy

When I was a kid I recall growing up with my parents and adults around me saying how things were tough in their day. And today I know they were tough then. But I can also see myself saying to those teenager's or growing up little ones how easy they have got it and how tough I have had it. And this is of course all true, because every generation will have a better childhood given all other things are equal. Technology improves, life styles improve, food is freely available and music TV is on demand at the touch of a button. Whilst in my years the only music TV available was Top of the Pops and it was only on for half an hour once a week. Otherwise it would be a matter of listening to the radio and trying to tape record off the radio your favourite music, because it was expensive.

Sparkling said to me something which is quite true when talking about teenagers. It was, "you give them the world and they wont even do a dish," and if the future is what it is, they probably will have no need to, because highly sophisticated dishwashers will take the dishes after they have been finished with wash them, dry them and put them away. They exist today as well, but they're called parents.

Grass cutting on a Dime

Sparkling Eyes has given her grass a cut, the first real cut of the year. It's usually my job to do when I am around. I do enjoy Sparkling's garden, berrys here, apples there, and herbs in another place. I can't think of a better place to sit when the sun is out and it's either time for breakfast or it's mid afternoon and a cold beer waits. With Sparkling enjoying it as well. I sure hope she didn't get sun burn and covered up or put on sun screen. Oh yes, she has given me a job to do for the next time I am there. It involves climbing a ladder and removing a satellite dish from the front of the house. I'll scratch my head and wonder how it is going to be done also to wonder if Sparkling will hold the ladder while I climb up. Or whether I want her to hold the ladder.

I've taken to recording notes to myself on my phone. I spoke about this before in another blog. The great thing is I can talk into my phone as though I am really speaking to someone, but I'm not, I'm just making an audio note. About something I think is odd, something which annoys me, or something of interest. It doesn't matter what it is, I record the thoughts in my head into audio. Thing is when there are enough notes, what is the next step? And will they be of any use at all? At least if anyone sees me they will not think I am nuts, they will just think I'm talking into my phone. The next thing to do will be to write them all down. A bit like recording blogs as each day goes. I need a pet project and this could very well be part of my pet project. Note taking, writing them and then making sense of the lot.

At lunch time I overdosed on a chocolate bar called Dime. This would of been about the time Sparkling was cutting the grass. They were going cheap in the pound shop. I bought 4 for one pound. After lunch I felt dizzy, and worried the chocolate and caramel was too much, raising my blood sugar level. I even felt a little queasy, sick like. And for one short moment thought never eat another Dime bar again. Unbelievable I know. Fortunately it passed and I'm over it now, until the next time. Maybe I should of made a audio note, nah writing it here is enough.

Night all.

A vexatious dream and pigeons

I had a vivid dream this morning and woke up a bit moody because of it, but it was just a dream. I had decided to go and visit Sparkling. I turned up at her house and there in her front room were two men, one she said was a cousin. As I looked at the cousin I could see a resemblance around the jaw, I don't know why it just seemed to stand out. The other man was someone I recognise from the Fish Factory, I didn't know why he was there and didn't question it either. which is odd in itself. Sparkling looked at me in surprise and then acted annoyed. Yes, she was annoyed I was there. I couldn't understand her reaction. I thought to myself why is she acting this way towards me. Then considered how I would react if she turned up suddenly at my house, I'd be surprised yes, but pretty happy, ecstatic even. As it was still morning and I was waking up I carried this feeling around with me and in some kind of illogical way though to myself, OK I am going to ring her up and have it out. The realness of the dream had taken over my senses to the point I couldn't tell it was a dream thing. How could my logic react in this way when I was completely awake, well nearly complete but not. Still stumbling about and not having had breakfast or a cup of tea. Taking a moment I consciously said it was just a dream and did my best to shake it off. But shaking off a feeling takes a little effort and maybe twenty to thirty minutes of effort in this case.

The morning continued in light of the stolen hour. I realised going to bed early isn't such a good thing because it makes you get up early. As there were no fish knives available today at the factory very little was going to get done, so it would of paid to get up later. However, I took the waking up process slow, and cursed the boiler which is now taking an hour to produce tepid warm water. I'm going to have to give my plumber a ring, although he's reasonable I sure hope he can fix it and I don't lose an arm or leg to the finance. I'll get round to it in the next day or so, depending how much I can endure the tepid nature of morning ablutions.

Again the roof tiles are cluttering and I know the pigeons or birds under them are getting up just as daylight peaks over the eastern horizon. If only the birds could worry about tepid water, or broken tiles or being given the brush off by Sparkling. The cats got thrown out by big moma before I'd fully emerged which was one good thing, maybe they could return after pigeon pie. Unfortunately they didn't. Nearly forgot, the dentist as sent me a letter, not the type with love and kisses but the type which says open up wide and lets have a look at those molars. Pigeons have beaks, they don't have molars or canines or incisors. Pigeons just peck, and clatter the roof tiles. I wonder if Sparkling has got any ideas? After of course I've had a word abouther turfing me out in my dream and not being happy at seeing me.

Now, why is it I keep hearing the words "everything is connected?" It wouldn't surprise me if Sparkling had trained the pigeons to wake me up. Well at least they haven't pooped on me, not yet anyway. I'll save this thought for another dream.

Variety is the spice of life, so is spice in variety

I had a problem getting up this morning so can only put it down to losing an hour because of the time stealer. Fortunately and unfortunately, when I put my clock forward some how the alarm was set. Which meant it went off and made sure I was awake; whereas, if it had not of dispelled sleep with it's high pitch screech I'd of stayed in my bed and enjoyed longer my slumber. The day was began in a glorious sun, hard and bright. In homage to this phenomenon there was only one option available. On the way to work I'd have a little walk, perhaps a mile and a half to the bus stop. It would add extra variety to my day. I enjoyed the crisp slightly chilled air but soon warmed up. I thought of Sparkling and wondered if she had the same problem getting up as I had. Mind it is cooler up north than down south and Sparkling does enjoy the odd lay in bed, which she will remind me she never has a chance to do. Being on account she is always on call, as a mum, 27/7 to Rock Chick. Not to mention the rest.

It is important to put a little variety into each day where possible. To do something different, whether it is walk a different route or go to a different place. Read a different paper, book, or leaflet. Listen to a different song or even hum. This is not to say routine is a stiffler of life, just to state variety can be introduced in the simplest of ways and make each day unique. For in reality each and every day really is unique. There will only be so many rising suns in the morning, because some mornings there is so much cloud you'll never see the sun. When the sun sets there is not always a sunset either and again the position of the sun is just a bit off than it was the day before. The weather will be different, but similar. The air may have a dampness or chill, or on some days just be plane still. Things happen in their context as they should do.

When I got on the bus I took out my book, which I've read before, it's called "The God Delusion" and began reading. However, unlike the first time I read it, the words seemed to be read quicker as though there was some recognition somewhere in the back of my mind at what I'd already been over. It's impossible for mere mortals to remember every word of a book after one reading, except for the man studied by Luria, who remembered everything. While I sat there and was facing backwards as the bus went forward, I knew the persons in front of me would see the title of the book and wonder. No one said anything to me though. It didn't matter to me but to them it might of, but then if it did I'm sure they would of said something, or were just happy in their ignorance.

Yes for some reason, I enjoyed the morning, the walk, the bus ride, the elevator to my floor. I was aware and whole in the moment, of each moment. Even knowing I was late, it didn't matter and I didn't let it matter to me. Perhaps this means, things will only matter if you let them bother you. Though I know first hand this is not always easy to accomplish.

Tomorrow, I'll think I'll put on two different socks and see if it matters.

*Luria was a Russian psychologist who studied a man who never forgot a single thing. The man for a short period was a journalist. Luria tells the story of this unique person in a book titled "The mind of the Mnemonist."

Losing an hour and some radical thoughts

Today I lost an hour as the clocks went forward. Sparkling lost an hour, Rock Chick lost an hour, Big Moma lost an hour everyone I know and quite a few people I don't know lost an hour. It was stolen in the night from the stealer of time. But nothing to worry about because later on in the year the giver of time will come and place it back in your lap. When it happens you fall in love with the extra hour in bed, cozying up to a soft pillow and warm duvet. So there are some pluses and minuses to losing and gaining an hour. But it will return.

Most of the day I've been tipping my toes in and out of videos on YouTube and have been entertained by some stimulating debate from the likes of Christopher Hitchen, Dan Dennett and Richard Dawkins. In what is and will be for ever the greatest debate of all, where scientists of an atheistic persuasion take on all the world's religions by using reasoning, by examining closely what are taken as given facts but in reality are not fact at all. Belief without any substance is in this way a delusion.

I have no doubt it is a great and wonderful debate, and every person on this planet should have an opinion on it. Provided they are allowed their own opinion. One Atheist I heard on YouTube his name is Pat Condell said his holly trinity was freedom of speech, freedom of thought and freedom of identity. He despises any religion which does not accept this, but in the same light will defend the religious people the right to give their opinion. However, they should not in turn want to take his right away to state his opinion. He certainly does have a lot to say and sometimes does go on in quite a vitriolic rant. Maybe it's something to do with age or just religious people trying to force their views on him. Dawkins suggests in a lecture I've just seen, atheists should become militant atheists. To suggest moral values would not exist without religion he notes is silly. For people who are atheists do know what the difference between right and wrong is, perhaps more so than believers. I've heard it said there are more believers in jails than atheists. Personally I do think religions can present an opt out clause to humanity. Of the like, if we believe then it don't matter what we do to the planet, because in the end our maker will come down and correct it all. But things don't work out like this in reality.

Being a humanist, is being a person who cares for every single breath of life each and every living thing has on this earth. This is not to say being a believer means you don't care so much. But to imagine this one thing and play with the idea is both profound and frightening. The idea is, what if we only have one life, it is here and it is now. There is nothing else after this. To me this means I am going to enjoy it, love it, and love those people around me and close to my heart more than anything else. It means, if the word holly can be hijacked, then life is holly, being here and being privileged to be alive is a chance solicitation to hold tightly in both hands. Play with the thought and it will wake you up. Chew the idea, let it savour it's flavours in your mouth. Then the hour I lost this morning is put into context. An hour of life, but then it's all perspective. How I see it will be different to how you see it.

Financiers and morality, lack of

It's been in the news recently, anarchists will be focusing attention on the city types who work in London when the G20 meet. It's all to do with bankers being paid extortionate amounts of bonuses and then screwing up the British economy and then being bailed out by tax payers. But anyone being of even a minute bit of intelligence and a banker (if it's possible) will either dress down or not even go into work at this time. Those who have nothing to do with the financial sector may also be mistaken because of their appearance, i.e. suited and booted cold also be targetted. Who can blame the the strategy blending in or just taking a sicky? I certainly can't. But there is something to say for morality and bankers who have shafted the entire nation. I'd expect this particularly applies to a lot of those high fliers.

One argument is if we chastise and vilify the banking high fliers who created this great recession then they will just pack their bags and head off to some other country. The thing is though, if you were a high flier and got paid boat loads of dosh for selling and buy equities, derivatives or futures and are in part responsible for the recession, then surely it would be good bloody riddance. In a discussion on the Today program this morning, one interviewer stated the government should begin to claw back all the bonuses which were paid to these bankers. Every bank which has been bailed out, which is the majority would have their mighty financiers then bought to account. This seemed to me a wholly reasonable thing to do. Alas the world does not work this way, and the award of short term bonuses in businesses which should look to long term awards does not take place. It is remarkable even one of the culprits to the recession went onto run the Financial Services Authority. An institution which during the entire period of dodgy sub prime mortgage financial instruments failed to take any action warning the banks. An organization which in it's own right should be providing a public service has grossly failed the country. Yet still the world goes round.

It is so easy to get uptight about such organizations and wealthy, greed obsessed financiers who have made a literal killing on the markets and then ran. But getting mad at them will not change the world. But one thing does come to mind. Some years ago a man in green tights had a band of merry men and used to hang out in the Forrest. He was called Robin. Not to be confused with the Robin from Batman and Robin, they are two different people. The tight wearing Robin has been epitomised in our culture as robbing the rich and distributing to the poor. There is only one solution to the greed mongers of our square mile, they to should be made to wear green, put on tights and sing merry songs. Then take up their rather large bags of lolly and re distribute it. OK there may be a few tears to start of with, but I'm sure they would get into the swing of it. If they refused, then how about some legislation followed up by forced repatriation of the ill gotten funds into the Bank of England and then a spell of five or ten years in a cell. With a big hairy bloke called Shirley who has a thing about a man in a suit. Yes. It might just work.

Mothering Sunday with Ms Novak

With the residue effect of flu I spent the day indoors. Being Mothering Sunday, not Mother's day as some might call it, I then went on to make lunch, roast chicken, with fantastic roast potatoes. And to finish I did all the washing and wiping up, so Big Mama could enjoy the day. It's unbelievable how long it takes to get rid of a lingering virus.

This evening I was treated to an old movie with one of my favourite female stars, Kim Novak. Made in 1962 and co stared Jack Lemmon. It was called The Notorious Landlady, made in black and white and pretty entertaining in comparison to a lot of codswallop which is passed of as movies now days. Novak looked fantastic. I read a little about her and was surprised to find she went out with Sammy Davies Jr for a year. She got bad publicity for it, because America at the time was suffering from a worse racial prejudice than it does today. The film was set in London which made it all the more appealing, especially seeing the odd clips of cars and traffic. So there is some minor historical appeal. Apparently Ms Novak was the film makers response to Marilyn Monroe, I can see this. She played a great part in Vertigo, very fetching. Anyway enough of Ms Novak, for the time being.

Roast potatoes are a pretty close second.

Sounding a bit horse

Today I ventured out, and walked to the shops, well the paracetamol has nearly dried up and fresh air is supposed to be good for you. Except it felt like I was drunk, swaying from one side of the pavement to the other, pillow to post, back and forth then the odd bout of coughing. The glue ear has about disappeared, but still a mild sore throat and waking up with a headache. The walk did me good and I promised myself not to turn on the TV or even log onto the Internet until after mid day. It worked. I read a few pages from a book I've got on the go and tried to remind myself the value of intellectual stimulation from good reading material. Perhaps it was the fresh air as well, brain cells run faster with fresh air.

Just spoken to Sparkling on the phone and she now has a horse speech I've not heard for a long time. However, she don't have a sore throat which is good news. Rock Chick picked up the phone first and could not believe it was me speaking, to my detriment all she seemed to do was laugh, between my own horse voice and coughing. How cruel can someone get, considering the germs probably originated from Rock Chick and Dangerous Sports lad. They in turn spread them to Sparkling and Sparkling spread them to me. It's a what's mine is yours situation, of course the reverse happens as well. I kept the conversation with Sparkling to a minimum because I was feeling guilty oft making her throat worse. She has to work again tomorrow. I don't know if I will be able to make it to the fish factory, I'll just have to see how I feel in the morning. You get to learn no on is indispensable.

Tomorrow's routine. Wake up, as you do then see if I feel better after a bit of breakfast. Then make a decision. Vegetate with illness or go to fish factory.

Being sick

I been pretty sick the last few days and today it was bad enough to ring into the fish factory and tell them I couldn't make it. Seems to be really hard luck because the weather has actually changed and it's bright and sunny out. I can't help the feeling of being robbed of a couple of good days. Especially Sunday when I would of at least gone out to do something, anything, just to get out. Instead I've spent two and a half days inside. I get so dizzy if it weren't for being inside and close to a chair I'd of fallen down a dozen times. Lets not forget the three days of stubble so I don't look a pretty sight. More of a unpretty sight if such a thing exists. I think Sparkling might be a little better than myself and I hope she is, this flu or virus or whatever it is, is a thing you'd wish on your enemy not anyone you love. What it comes down to is you have to protect yourself as much as possible. Eat the right foods, stay away from sick people and do everything possible to stay healthy. Being ill has meant I've missed out a couple of days on my blog, but be assure very little has happened. In this present state the only thing I can do is eat and sleep and go crazy as the walls start to shrink. Closing in on me. Or is it the dizziness catching up again even though I sit still and hardly move an inch. Yep, it's no fun being sick.

Laugter during sleep

It's no wonder I am not getting an entirely good sleep. Because I've been talking in my sleep, but it don't stop there, apparently a good laugh bellowed from my vicinity. It's good to know there is such a thing as happy dreams. Maybe it's connected to a realisation I had the other day about life. Maybe though sleep laughing is a new phenomena, something which should be researched for there could be a lot of people out there who would like a piece of the action. Were I to wake up in the middle of the joke it could be recounted later in the day. Providing its possible to remember what the joke was in the first place. Checking Google it seems a lot of people do laugh in their sleep and there is even a book on Amazon with the title "laughing in my sleep" but it's a autobiography so there's no information about what this event means.

Dreaming is a symbolic thing, and very difficult to interpret. Part of me feels fearful searching for an interpretation because when it comes to dreams what is dreamt is the opposite to the interpretation. However, it's said even in sleep the ability feel any emotion is still present. So if you are laughing then the dream must genuinely be funny. There's a video of someone laughing on YouTube and this woman actually wakes herself up from it. See the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQm-6guQAcc

So although my existence and popularity on this planet may preclude me from going to parties, clubbing, taking illegal drugs are getting overly pissed; the one thing I have got and other's don't, especially when stoned, is the ability to laugh in my sleep. For which I am satisfied.

Though I may not do so much laughter tonight, because of this illness which is making me delirious. Sparkling is having the same problem. She told me on the phone, and together we coughed in unison, my throat is killing me and I'll probably hit the hay early. Just in case there's another joke I need to dream about.

My throat

For some reason today has dragged by and all the time my throat has been killing me. It is sore, not just sore, it is very sore. Thanks to Sparkling passing on her illness. The other day it felt like I was swallowing razor blades. So I end up overdosing on throat lozenges. I wake up in the mornings and seem to be guaranteed a headache. One morning I even considered taking the day off sick, the thought of just laying in bed and being incapacitated, just letting this thing have me occurred. But I would of got up after a couple of hours, it would of been a wasted day. I'm weary of wasted days, you have only so much time on this earth so it's best to use it. This evening I went to the gym, and there I fight low motivation. This throat thing is pulling me down, however, it has not won out, I have managed to hit the gym with a reduced and easier work out. For doing something, no matter how little exercise it is, is better than nothing. I'm having disturbed sleeps. The cat jumps about at some unearthly hour and walks over the bed while I dose then wake up. I say to myself as I lay there "just relax, be tired, let yourself sleep" so I chill and don't get all crazy at the cat because it wouldn't solve anything. If it's not the cat then it's something else which will disturb my sleep. A cough now and again. The feeling I have a tennis ball stuck in my throat as I try to swallow saliva. I wonder if my jowls are swollen and I have tonsillitis or something. I hope my tongue doesn't swell up and choke me to death while I sleep. No wonder it's is disturbed. A piercing pain goes through my temples hits and then runs away. It's no good worrying about it, I let it alone but it don't leave me alone. If only we were made with two mouths and throats. If one got ill at least we could rely on the other to work.

Sparkling tells me, both she and Rock Chick are not so good either. They have probably given me the lurgies. Misery likes company they say. But I didn't realise this included being ill. Better look for another lozenge then bed. Luckily beds are reliable unless they are missing one wheel. Yes. Mines missing a wheel, I got the fourth wheel and have to put it back in again. It fell out when it was moved. I think I'd rather lose a wheel than have a throat full of glass, a head being obliterated by and electric drill and a cough. Pitty I'm not as reliable as a bed. Think I'll hit the bed now. Night.

A rant on education

The value of education is obvious, but there are few who take up the mantle and accept the challenge even smart people are amongst the masses. If caught young enough a child can reap great benefits from education in later years, especially when looking for a job. It is like using the strongest muscle in the body, their brain becomes anathema. So with great sadness may working class parents do not encourage and help their children in this area. I know as I have witnessed this with members of my own family. Guided learning and help has to be done continuously from a very early age. To the point, the idea of sitting and spending time just studying has to become habit and not a tortuous event. It then becomes automatic. Otherwise there is a fight with the other side of the mind, the lazy side. The side which falls into bed with procrastination and games and video's and trash TV. The side which just can not be bothered. Many kids will even say "whatever" or "am I bothered" and when they do they are saying it out of complete and utter ignorance of the future. Of a world which could be.

The concept of the future and the years ahead a child has are like the blind spot on an elephant reversing. If I could go back in time to myself and could have a single conversation, it would be one in which I would do everything I possibly could to instill a motivation to learn. I would map out on a piece of paper a single horizontal line. The beginning would say birth, the end death, and a portion perhaps about one sixth I'd note as childhood. Then I'd state, you are only a child for this part of your life, the rest of it you will be an adult. The educational level you decide to attain here as a child may then dictate your future. How much money you might earn for the rest of your life. I say might because things may happen, where you are in the right place at the right time. But if they do not happen, then your early years education will predict your income. I would encourage and aid in every way I could this importance. I would demonstrate to the young me the poverty of the world, the pain and the hard graft of people just to make ends meet. I would make this happen in such a way as to say, education is a life or death decision. Because in reality it is.

Unfortunately it seems this value for education is not understood or accepted by a lot of parents. Which can make me ask the question do parents really want the best for their children if they don't actually help them? If they don't sit down and encourage their offspring or learn the same subjects their child is studying? And together push for a better life. Unconsciously Freud would say, parents do not want their children to do any better than they themselves, it would harbour resentment if not pride.

A procrastination of the real world would state there is not always time to both sit with children, help them and to earn money from work, buy food to eat, clothes to wear etc. Time just is not there. Oh what a procrastination this is as well. Because there must be time, because if you don't give it time then, children will follow the footsteps of their parents. Their life will be no better.

I understand as individual we all have freedom of choice to make mistakes, to accept or not accept things. But not accepting the value of education is like being an ostrich and hiding your head in the sand. Not acting and providing help and encouragement in education is like a flock of ostriches putting their head in the sand. Oh well, perhaps sand has qualities I haven't thought about.

Big toe goes to teen land

Kicked my toe coming home tonight, the same one I happened to kick in Sparkling's garden, the one which is painful even if I kick it and nothing is wrong. It now hurts, and I limped back. I'm the one legged limping man, no the two legged man with a limp. If I had one leg I'd be the one legged hopping man. The pain, the pain of it. Ouch.

When considering yesterday's gripe about teenagers I began to wonder what it was like for myself as a teenager and I even recall how my mum and dad used to talk about the days when they were young. It's like there is a built in affinity to reminisce on days gone past and of course state something along the lines of "they never had it so good nowadays" which of course is true. Providing all things are equal teenagers of today are being bought up in a world more advanced than it was yesterday. Where there are more electrical devices to save time and effort and to entertain. Where transportation has had a few more years to develop with better roads, rails, sea routes and planes. So all things equal, things will be easier and require less effort than they used to, but the same growing pangs are there, the same hormones, same frustrations of peer pressure and friction between wills of parents and teenager. There are other more modern day dangers which arise in a more modern society which go hand in hand with advances in technology. For instance, easier cheating on essay writing and plagiarism using the web. Easy contact by email and text when it is not wanted. Then there is the change in societal values, fashion and cultures. Especially of cultures imported or adopted here which are contrary to our own indigenous one. Be this the use of the English language, body language or different cultural norms which cause friction. So Although teenagers are growing up in a less effort requiring world and it will be a more complicated than the one of their parents.

Coming from a working class background money was the major issue of my upbringing. It ruled every aspect of life. What food would be on the table, whether there would be fruit during the week, if shoes could last out a little longer before a new pair was bought. As for toys for Christmas we could forget anything which had been advertised on TV. Fashion was not a big item to worry about because every other working class family was the same. Although there was the odd kid who wore better clothes than the rest which in our eyes just made them Nancies. My hair was long because of the cost to get it cut. I was lucky my parents didn't do home hair cuts, the kids who did have home cuts were always recognizable. We had to pay for our own bus fair unlike today in London where kids up to 14 years old get travel for free. The biggest highlight would be going to the cinema and to watch the Saturday special. Bed was early even though you never felt tired, and parents rowed. There was no help with homework, no encouragement to better my education. So I turned out a div. To tell the truth I hated school. The overly large class sizes, averaging 33-38 pupils and one teacher. They were cramped. Some of the teachers were crap. The odd one OK, and the weak ones became fodder. If the nature versus nurture debate were ever in question the upbringing of working class kids in a society against anyone considered middle or upper class was the thing to make them disadvantaged. Then when it came to leaving school the pressure was on, it was enormous, it was find a job and if I didn't I'd be kicked out. Quite vocally put. When unemployed most of my income went towards paying my keep, leaving very little for myself to do anything at all. First job was then guaranteed to be poorly paid, long hours and soul destroying. It was at this point education finally had a salient value to me.

Bloody sad. So it is with no wonder I try to influence those growing up family members I can, and it is with equal sadness the light isn't switched on. But we each of us have the one painful rite, it is the rite to make our own mistakes. Even when others tell us before we make them, it is our own obstinate rite to be ass holes. Then reflect when older and wish we had done differently. If someone ever says they have no regrets in life, you know they are a liar. It is part of life to make mistakes, regret and hopefully learn. These lessons are not taught in class unfortunately. I must learn not to kick my toe.

A rant on teenagers and their alien makers

Well headed back on the train to London and had the company for a short while of Revenues woman. She was going on a training exercise of some kind but didn't know what it was about. Seemed like she'd not even been given an agenda. So much for organizational efficiency.

Odd how on the return trip time goes a little quicker, usually I close my eyes and dose off to sleep for an hour or two and Kapow before I know it London has arrived. But of course it's all relative. Time is the same it just depends what you're doing, or expecting, or what have you. Half way I began listening to some Snow Patrol and felt sad, real sad. Pangs of Sparkling had hit me. I over come it before becoming a blubbering fool in the middle of a half carriage of people. All I can say is Sparkling makes me very happy and feeling lucky. She is wonderful. Though I really must admit giving her the bull shit button early was a mistake. I heard it punched a few times. And I didn't really think I was much of a B.S. talker. Sparkling must think otherwise. But I did use it once or twice on her to, it helps if you sit next to it at the time.

Rock Chick started the day with an inability to hit school. The effort to finish off her education which is only a few more weeks is taking it's toll. After this life will never be the same. It don't matter how much Sparkling tries to reason with Rock or how much anyone else does, Rock just has this averse ability to attend classes. Personally I'd of thought the amount of grief she has to put up with it's better to go to school than hop it. I can't help going crazy over it as well. I wish school paid me an EMA when I stayed on, by itself it would of being a pretty good incentive. Well with school ending this summer it will mean she had better take a serious look for a job to fill in the time.

Sometimes I feel so old or out of touch or just very, very frustrated at teenagers. When the opportunities for study are there and they don't understand what they are being given. But as I've said, it all comes down to motivation, motivation inside the individual. You can't inject someone with your own motivation, they have to find theirs. And it don't grow on a motivation tree in the garden where you can go and eat some fruit and be eager to carry on. Perhaps it's because motivation only comes from being self directed and making mistakes. In comparision to school work is tough. Work is very tough, and your can't live without earning money. Every single teenage kid should be made to work, given real work suitable for their abilities. As a teenager, these abilities would probably be low. Sweeping up, or picking up leaves, or something. Yep, something difficult, demeaning and tough. It should be compulsory and then they make a decision whether to continue with this work or get an education. I bet ninety per cent of them would take the easier option and go back to education. But they don't know how easier education is until they have worked. It's almost a Catch 22 situation. It's so sad when you want better for them and they just don't get it. They just don't understand there is no light being switched on, short term gratification is what matters.

OK enough of my rant, teenagers I think were made on a different planet and sometime during a child's growing up they are kidnapped by aliens and the teenager is put in their place. They are made differently. Sensibility is not a part of their ongoing vocabulary, they know it in theory but in reality the lights are turned off. Must be the way the little green men manufacture them, on account of the little men being so small they can't reach the light sockets, so all the substituted teenagers have no lights. Well not all. Just nearly everyone I've met.

Dry hands

I feel like I have really worked hard today. Done the washing up, hoovered, cooked and even worn a apron entitled "stud muffin" yep my nose has been to the grind stone and have enjoyed every minute of it. I even had an early morning discussion with Rock Chick regarding the episode of which she bought up the episode of earlier and called me rude. Well I said OK, if Dangerous Sports lad thinks it was the case I'll apologise to him, providing you haven't got to him first. Her excuse was Dangerous was a wimp and never challenged anyone, he liked to keep the peace. I knew otherwise. I was right. A chit chat with Dangerous and he told me Rock had already spoken to him, she'd already warned him, so it meant he was under obligation to say nothing. Awwwe poor thing I thought, Rock has got him under her little finger. But at this point he knew did not think I was rude. He had enjoyed the banter.

The cat has been getting his continued revenge, by waking up early and demanding attention, he is driving me potty. He lays on the bed and you can feel his weight, he then refuses to budge. If you then get up in the morning he thinks it is actual time to wake up and needs food, followed by a run, then a half hour later his taunting scream of a meow, bellowing let me in. Yep he's driving me potty. In the middle of the day I checked up on him sleeping on the bed and purposefully woke him up. Hopefully he'll get the message and not wake up too early.

L & B man has offered me a lift to the station in the morn. I asked if it was to make sure I got on the right train. He said it didn't matter what train, any train would do. Awwe shame on him. In turn this evening I've been on call to the whims of Sparkling. After the washing up I even had to put some cream on my hands. Dry hands are awful. Rock wanted me to help her with a supporting statement for college. Then eight hours later she asked me for the first line. The reality was she didn't need my help and she's just got on with it, eventually. Brill.

Well I've enjoyed every single moment in Sparkling and Rock's company, though I can't say the same for the cat. I wonder if I can put an add in the local shop window. Cat for sale, likes food, comfort and attention. Also does a great impression of an alarm clock.

Sleep and a cat's karma

Went to bed at 3:30 a.m. it's not my usual time but Rock Chick had decided to have a party. Teenagers everywhere. I and Sparkling had been told to vacate the house. So we went off to see a film and came back when the party was in full swing. I entered the kitchen for some reason and at the sink was one of the lads. He'd just taken the Scotch Bonnet challenge but was only able to take half of one. He was drinking water. I helped him out by suggesting milk. Somehow I ended up laying on the bed and guarding the room from another amorous teenager doing his best to lure his girlfriend into an arachnoid trap. Unfortunately for him it did not work.

Dangerous Sports lad was pie eyed, he kept apologising for being in this state and tried to show how innocuous Tequila is, I watched as he took a hit. About ten seconds later he was in the garden puking. Perhaps the Tequila was a bit stronger than he had anticipated, or maybe it was the numerous bottles of Budweiser he'd drank earlier. Rock Chick seemed to be doing a lot of mingling with her friends and enjoyed the whole occasion. I am sure I heard all the girlies singing and probably dancing to one of Beyonce's songs. At some point they all decided it was time to go to bed and so my bedtime coincided with theirs.

The alarm went off at 7:30 a.m., I could not turn it off and ended up passing it to Sparkling who also could not turn the thing off. The evil red digitised box refused to be agreeable. Consequently the plug got pulled and it solved the problem. However, the cat decided it was time to get up, eat breakfast and be a general nuisance. If I hadn't known otherwise I'd of thought he howled like a dog, but I know he's a cat, the purring gives it away. I figure I had 5 or 6 hours sleep, but disturbed.

Fortunately I've learnt how to pace myself, and am able to do so at times. I have learnt if you can't sleep, just relax, you can always catch up later. Not always, but sometimes. Come morning all would be quite different for the teenie bunch, they all need sleep. The long hours would of taken their toll on everyone of them. Rock Chick was grumpy in the morning but said it was me who was grumpy. Nope my bear was sleeping, so I was not grumpy, but if enough people say you are grumpy then they will make you grumpy. And in those circumstances it's easy meeting their expectations in a self fulfilling prophecy. I wasn't.

Rock took a tizzy at me and decided not to speak to me anymore. Just because I had moaned about an empty crisp packet next to Dangerous Sports lad. He didn't take it in a bad way at all, Rock did. Perhaps she was over sensitive on account of lack of sleep and saw the situation as something it was not. It's a shame such misunderstandings come about. Wars could easily be waged. I got to think maybe she couldn't read me. Anything else I'd say would be taken the wrong way, where you can't do right for doing wrong, so why bother. I'm sure she will talk to me tomorrow. After catch up on sleep.

I think the cat enjoys my company. Sparkling says it's my job to run to the cat's every need whenever I am here. He thinks so as well. To prove it when I tried to ignore him he attacked me sometime early in the morning. News I'm sure Rock would laugh at, I let out a loud yell of pain. His claws went into the palm of my hand, it was dangling over the side. This is enough to make one grumpy. I took him downstairs, passed various sprawled bodies of teenagers on the floor and fed him. In a wicked streak, I decided to close the kitchen door, I knew he'd soon be meowing loud and clear and one of those teenies would have to let him out in the garden. The thought was wicked I know. In reality sounds to me the cat got his own back on us all. Poor thing, he was cringing under a bed most of the time the noise and party was on. Sparkling has mentioned karma today in a discussion. Yep, if such a thing exists this cat got his karmic revenge on all of us. Now to see if he'll let me sleep. Night all.

How to survive a Scotch Bonnet Chili

Last night when American Idol was having a break, Sparkling sprang a trial on me. She had watched an episode of celebrity Big Brother where contestants ate various chillies. In typical Sparkling fashion this had now been transfered into a test for moi. She suggested I eat the Scotch bonnet giving the reason she was now bored, and of course I was the entertainment. I sat looking at the Scotch Bonnet, really thinking about whether I was up to it. Especially as I'd seen a few videos on YouTube, and they were disturbing. I even learnt spice is measured in scoville units. In a few moments to my unfortunate chagrin, there joined us, Roch Chick and Dangerous Sports lad. Dangerous sat down next to me and he thought this was a typical dangerous challenge so he'd join in as well. Personally I must admit to thinking he would not be up to it as he's just a kid, and me, well I'm a man, for men these things are different. In my mind he wouldn't be so silly. But I was up to it, well possibly. Rock Chick was not feeling too good with her recent bout of flu but had to watch. She goaded us to go on. Sparkling observed and I could see her eyes glint as she chuckled. It was the kind of laugh which says this is going to be funny and I am going to enjoy this. Sparkling and Rock were, I wasn't and I knew it. Hence my take it slowly and look at it first before I pop it into my gob.

I got a cup of milk at the ready. Then looked at the Scotch bonnet some more wondering if i really did have what it takes to eat it. At this moment Dangerous Sports lad took one very very brief look at his Scotch Bonnet and then popped it in his mouth and started chomping away. I was taken back. How could he? Just like that, it went inside and he chewed. WHAT! Now there was no way out, I could not sit there and do nothing just looking at the thing because then I'd be chicken. Great the little snot and forced my hand in proving his own machoness to Rock Chick. How dare he, I was the one proving how macho I was, but taking my time over it. As they say there's always someone else bigger more macho and more handsome than the next. Hell, I'd just found this out. Rock Chick looked on admiringly and giggled. Shit. After one or two seconds of additional thinking I then had to act fast. I mean fast, because if I delayed any more I'd be a wimp. So in it went. Then I chewed and chomped at the medium large looking fiery red bonnet. As there was a slight timed delay between Dangerous and myself he'd be feeling the effects before me, and quiet soon. All I had to do was to stay as calm as I could, chew for longer hold the chili in my mouth and do my best not to show it had any effect on me. So I chewed. Dangerous stood up and started doing a funny dance around the room, I tried not to concentrate on him but rather on the searing volcanic pain in my own mouth. I held the chewy hot poison in my cheeks and half wondering whether I should spit it out was again gazumped by Dangerous as he had fully swallowed his own. Damn. I to swallowed. I sat there calmly then I just could not put up with it any more.

I drank my milk, ate a spoonful of strawberry desert rice, and drank more milk. I needed instant relief but the milk was not working. The fire was everywhere in my mouth. My cheeks, my tongue, the roof, gums and it was like acid. The gulps of milk were not doing it. I needed help I needed relief now. I ran outside into the garden, it was cold out there and I hoped by being in the cold it would chill my mouth. I breathed out hard, in and out with my mouth wide open but nothing was happening. Dangerous said to try water with the milk as it seemed to alleviate the symptoms. I tried it. I washed my mouth round and round with the mixture and spat it out. The plants it hit caught on fire and blew up into ten foot flames. Sparkling watched and laughed. Rock could not believe the effects as she sat there quietly while these two men went crazy trying to get away from the taste of hell. This is the stuff the mouths of children should be washed out with if they are caught swearing, not soap. After a while, five or ten minutes the heat subsided by an iota. I then sat down and tried to wipe the tears away from my eyes. After I'd had a good nose honk. I have never tasted anything so hot. The milk should of sorted it out, and it did but it don't work straight away. It takes time.

Time enough to understand I had been so pulled into another Sparkling trap. It may not seem much to eat a Scotch Bonnet, but it is. After the event there were further side effects as I realised there was an alien in my belly and he was now trying to get out. The hard way. I paced around ran up to the loo. Came back down, clutched my gut. Checked the web. It was then I read eating raw chili can result in severe heart burn. Great. I had another dose of milk and at last felt better. Sparkling said she was proud of me, of course, I am here to entertain. But I survived, it's something I have done and I may or may not do it again. But I've done it. I'm now dangerous, growwwlll.

Strawberry cheesecake and Sparkling Traps

I am presently enjoying the company of Sparkling and sometimes even Rock Chick, depending if Dangerous Sports lad is about. If he is then he's the only thing Rock has time for and everyone else is an accessory. Sparkling in the meantime has set various traps for me and I've fallen into each one she has set. Feet first shall I add, and adding one of my own doing, which was rather silly. I'll explain.

During shopping some weeks ago I came across a novel device. It's a large red button with "bull shit" written on the top. Each time it is depressed a voice yells out in one of several various sentences proposing something is bull shit. It can be used any time an answer is given and the answer doesn't seem genuine in some way. Now what I should of done was give this to Sparkling midway in my week, or later, because now it is being used against me. So in some respects this is a self inflicted trap, but still an ideal Sparkling type of trap. The next trap was the pot cupboard. Here a stack of pots and pans had been put away in the Sparkling style. This is without regard to tidiness and they are basically stored just to get them out of eyesight. I had to venture in this cupboard. The door opened and they fell out at my feet. About an hour later I'd re stacked and thrown away some unused items. The third trap happened to be a broken window blind which continuously thrashed about because it was broken, whereas my last encounter with it, it stayed in place when the strings were pulled. Now it didn't, it just thrashed about at any opportunity like a conger eal being caught at the very moment it had a headache. Dealing with the window blind late at night just before bed nearly did me in. It very nearly had me delirious. Yes, a Sparkling trap, because if it is broken and I touched it then it is my fault.

In the meantime today L & B man has decided to put don his apron and have an episode of Come-Dine-With-Me. We've been invited to dinner. He's cooking something, possibly steak I have yet to verify this. However, Sparkling and I are doing the desert. A beautiful strawberry cheesecake. Homemade. Unfortunately after checking out the recipe online, it seems the base has takes a whole night before to be chilled properly. Consequently we have cheated. Running down to Tesco's and choosing an already made one instead. We were going to pretend the Tesco one was home made, but in true style Sparkling gave up the information in one telephone call. This must of been in the middle of her allergy attack. When her skin had erupted into a strawberry rash. Maybe the rash was her conscience saying she should not tell little fibs. In the mean time today I have been walking about with a limp, having hit my big toe with some force in Sparkling's garden. It don't look strawberry in colour, choosing a kind of bruised black look instead on account of it coming from a Sparkling trap not an embarrassing being caught out on a little fib situation.

Rock Chick is now back from School and has noticed me. Except to my detriment. I was the one who ate the strawberry chocolate and only left one piece. Now I did want to eat it all but Sparkling stopped me. I had thought eat the lot and there would be no evidence left then she might not of noticed. But she has, and now I have to replace it. Odd how some things catch up where is the distracting boyfriend when he's needed?

A multi talented phone

I've found a function on my phone, recording audio. So those thoughts I used to have when drunk or just walking along the street I can now speak into the phone. I've always found it odd how clarity comes along this way. A stream of description. In a time and a place but usually with no means to note it. Now though the means exists. I recall the other night after being drunk I witnessed a game of poke, Texas Hold em style. I wanted to put it into words what I'd witnessed. Unfortunately I had no means, to my knowledge at this point.

Six men who were rather an odd bunch, a dwarf, a black man who drank black coffee, a man who had lank long hair he was skinny and reminded me of the character called Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Another skinny man with a balding head who crossed his legs, one character who had a little goaty beard and sat there sucking on a surrogate plastic cigarette because smoking is prohibited in law now and lastly the greying and amenable figure of a bloke I knew who just liked to play the game. It was a completely weird bunch of people I had thought and I had seen them all sat together around the table, all watching with concentration as the cards were passed round.

When I left the pub two of them had been knocked out of the competition and I survey a suspicious eye on the dwarf who had some kind of PDA device on the table. He lightly touched the screen with a stylus. Although my thoughts of this experience were running along in a clear but drunken state there was no place for them to be put. Now it'll be my phone.

I used it a couple of times today. As I walked down my road. It's pretty good as it picked up the sound of a crow squawking in the background and a train. Although only problem could be I look odd talking into my phone. Of course not, it's a phone, it's what you do with a phone. Talk into it, silly. Now talking into a proper audio recorder, yes, people would look at it and think it odd. Strange.