Being the same

I hit the gym for a short while this evening, breaking a sweat, just about, but not overdoing it at all.  This may be some kind of wisdom with age thing going on.  Although not all older people are wise, mostly people don't change much, they have and keep the same personality traits.  It don't matter if they are high powered or just a Joe Blogs.  However, if someone is young and stupid what's the odds of them turning out to be older and wiser?  Me thinks, the odds are, stupidity is some kind of genetic thing and it will persist regardless of age.  Especially where it is related to a trait of personality.  I heard once some where, don't ask me where.  I heard "we are slaves to our habits" which is what our fundamental personality characteristics are all about.  However, there must also be examples of people in the world who have changed their personality and improved, just as there certainly are those who have got worse.  Maybe we're all relatively stable within a degree of variance.  Which goes back to the original assumption. 

An arsehole will always be an arsehole.

Fred or Fredericka not something else

The past week or so, it has been bucketing with rain.  Which probably explains why two nights ago when returning back to the ranch, there not so far from the front door, right in full view of the world, sat a toad or frog.  I'm not sure which creature it was, but what I can say is it was one of the biggest toad/frogs I have seen in quite a long time, in fact I probably haven't seen one as big as this.  It was the size of the palm of my hand.  The pavement was wet and a dull unenthusiastic rain descended.  The Toad/frog who I shall call Fred for short didn't take much notice.  It took so little notice I couldn't tell if it was interested in anything at all.  Certainly Fred wasn't up to reading the Times newspaper, on account it would of gotten too wet for him.  He was stationary.  I wondered how on earth Fred could got to this place.  At first walking along the street I thought Fred was a turd.  I didn't let him know this on account of not wanting to hurt his feelings and all.  Who knows, his brothers could of been hiding round the corner and they'd of come jumping out had I thrown an insult.  He was content there.  The night was warm and wet, what more could Fred want?  Safety I expect.  With cats, dogs, rats and foxes about Fred might easily appear as a tasty snack for any of them.  When I advised Big Moma, her curiosity got the better and she had to run out and have a look, then proceed to prod Fred, who I was told wasn't a very good jumper, towards a cul-de-sac set of garages.  I advised this wasn't a good idea, with cars going in and out, and the large pool of water which had collected there was likely to drain away, as it usually did.  So Moma somehow took Fred under her wing and into the back garden.  I've not seen or heard from him since.  Though I can't say the same for the cat, who has remained quite on the subject.

However, what if Fred was actually a Frog and was previously a beautiful princess.  O.K. what if Fred was actually Fredericka and a beautiful princess just waiting for the spell she was under to be broken.  Broken by a handsome man with a single kiss.  I hadn't thought of this at the time.  On account beauty and brains don't go together, odd.  But the truth be said I'm probably more brainy than I am handsome.  So at the moment I saw Fredericka I was likely more handsome than I had been for a while.  It was the street lighting which can hide all forms of facial deformities, the rain and thinking Fredericka was a turd.  Then to a turd any bloke walking around would be handsome.  I don't understand how this line of thinking has come about but I'm going to Vere away from it quickly.  So somewhere on the little bit of waste land behind the back garden, eating flys is a beautiful princess.  Unless of course she has been absconded by the fairies.  Pesky things. In all probability Fredericka was just a toad and fishing around to see if life was different on the other side of the street/hill/pond or what have you.

So the moral of the story is quite simple, watch where you step because a turd in poor lighting could actually be a Fred or Fredericka.

The sound of a phone call

It seems ages since I last managed to get a conversation with Sparkling.  So I decided to give her a quick phone on my lunch break.  I knew she had not been well lately, with some kind of flu like virus.  However, being we hadn't chatted I didn't know the extent of it.  Blimey.  When Sparkles answered the phone she didn't sound like she should of been up and about.  More like she should of been in bed with chicken soup and a pharmacological supply of the strongest medicines available.  Sparkles didn't even sound like Sparkles, she could of been someone quite different.  I knew though it was her number I'd rang.  Meanwhile,  this evening, Sparkling has gone to her Fish Factory to do a shift and will be off again tomorrow.  When in fact time recovering is what is needed.  I wish I could do something.  Sparkling, please take the time off if you are not up to it.  The world will carry on, even Rock Chick can do without a personal chauffeur.  Get well soon honey.

Back at the ranch, life carries on.  A colleague at the Fish Factory has left and decided to go back to school, or rather University than carry on working.  Another colleague today announced the start of their sabbatical leave with an intention of not coming back to the Fish Factory if they could help it.  But being one of the drinking pals of the after hours Fish Factory group this will mean their presence will be missed.  Gone will be the addition of acerbic wit over a pint of Stella and discussion about politics, films and music which I have never heard of before.

I'll have to find something else to do with my time after hours.  Even possibly play with the notion of return to the gym, which presently I've been avoiding.  Under my desk there lay a rucksack with trainers, and kit, just waiting.  To go and get used.  It must be lonely and dark under the desk as it sits waiting for use.  Mind I did leave an apple on top, if it feels hungry at least it can sneak out and have something nutritious.  Either that or I go and buy some chicken soup.  Who else could do with some of that?

Waiting on hot water

I sit here waiting for the water in the immersion heater to warm up.  It's either this or go to the Fish Factory stinky.  I'd rather not.  It is a pain not having remmebered to have switched it on, of course I might of used cold water but this seems a little extreme.  In the bathroom I can hear the radio as my favourite morning show runs, with numerous time checks throughout.  (Today program on Radio 4)  It is the best news program around, has been given numerous awards and my second fix of caffine after some real coffee.  The cateterrie kind, not instant out of the jar kind.  Better have a quick check to see if it is hot enough. Nearly there.

I spoke to L & B man last night.  After having two pints in the pub and wanting a little chit chat.  He was about to go on holiday for three weeks to Florida.  Whereas my niece Bam Bam had just come back from a week's holiday in New York.  I said to L & B Man, I had wondered who to ring and had to ring someone who was likely to pick up the phone because they had no mates.  His response was, "so you had tried to ring yourself found it engage and then ran me."  I was a little intoxicated so didn't have any retort, he'd goe me so I laughed.  I must note to myself when intoxicated I'm at a disadvantage.  Maybe this is why Sparkling likes me to drink the odd pint. 

Anyway time is short, water must be  hot now so I'm off.

Thoughts on a couple of weeks ago

It's been a week since returning from my trip to see Sparkling Eyes.  She reminded me I had been neglecting her feet and hadn't massaged them enough this time round.  Usually she said, her feet were soft and supple and had been revitalised.  Mind, Sparkles did have to do a little bit of work now and again, so I didn't see her all the time so this may have contributed to my neglection of foot duties.  

One one afternoon out we decided to head towards the local golf course so I would get a chance at hitting some balls on the range.  It's a lovely place, littered with adjacent log cabins which can be hired, a large lake, rolling hills and a little leisure complex.  After my abysmal failure at hitting golf balls and doing a Sevvy Balistaros come Tiger Woods impression we went and had a drink and food in the restaurant.  Rock Chick sat opposite and looked very much the young growing up adult she is.  She had ordered what was her favourite fad at the moment, Rosemarie prawns and a glass of red wine.  Which was a little odd to watch.  As she tucked into her prawns on pieces of brown breaded toast and sipped so divinely from her glass.  I felt she was becoming very much the adult.  Young, happy, go lucky, and in her own way Sparkling.  Smiling and making jokes.  She is growing up every day and what a beautiful young lady she is.  I could see the resemblances and the finger prints Sparkling had put on Rock Chick.  The naughty sense of humour, the right of speaking out for herself.  Which is something I always love.  When people, no matter who they are can challenge me and speak their mind.  Together Sparkles and Rock Chick are a formidable team.  I have learnt I can not beat them in an argument, because of course no man can beat a woman in a game of logic.  Their logic is not as straight as you might think.  Or rather, pretty meandering and somehow getting to a point which was not the point of the argument anyway, but a point.  Rock looked so happy, and it was good to be on a nearly fully adult level.  We looked out of the window over our drinks and also noticed people looking up at a nest of swallows.  The sun was out, although a touch windy and we were pretty satisfied with the world, I thought how much I enjoyed laughter, chat and the company of those I love.

In the meantime I am now back in London and back to the old Fish Factory.  My normal routine of exercising has yet again taken a knocking with getting up late in the mornings.  Although I must admit to actually going out on two runs while up north and doing one session of skipping.  It's all in the mind.  Coming back the first week I'm not myself sad and keeping it all together as best I can.  This morning I got up late, but as I slowly extracted myself I spent an extra half hour in bed giving myself a very big hug and thinking of Sparkling as though I were in bed hugging her. What I do feel more than anything I have for a big part of my life, although a little fatter, I feel content and loved and in love and happy.  An inner warmth and smile which inexplicably pops up on my face when I think of my recent trip.  Being withdrawn from Sparkles has it's effect.  A couple of days ago I couldn't help but hit the pub, and enjoyed a little intoxication.  Three pints of Guinness did it.  Thing is; though I am happy I find I am fighting a battle in my mind, not just the contentment of being in love..  I crave more than anything, peace and serenity as the little voice in the head drives on and on.  Just those random thoughts which would keep you awake if you wanted to sleep but couldn't.  Those ones.  I now seek a purpose, a purpose of really working out who I am and how I can best reflect this each day of my life, because Sparkles makes me a better person.  Of how I can stay calm when faced with other people who flap about, and how I can stop my own instant reactions, which would normally be aversive.  Perhaps this is part of the nature of human kind.  Find the Ying to your Yang.  Then to put things in perspective and be our own best friend and not beholding to the opinions of others.  These are challenges which I am facing each day, and particularly at the Fish Factory.

Except of course for the one person I feel is the other half to me.  I don't mind this part at all.  Sparkling's stamp is on my forehead.  She challenges me and teaches me every single day.  I really must pay more attention to her feet next time.

Looking forward to seeing Sparkles

Shortly I will be off on a train heading up North, across the border and the land of Scotland to see the very beautiful and wonderful woman I call Sparkling Eyes.  I have been speaking to her this evening on the phone, because it would be useless trying to shout, a phone is much easier than even smoke signals or the beat of a drum.  Anyway, I was talking to Sparkles and she reminded me shortly of the next big birthday she'll be hitting but not presently.  I'll not say what it is, except to think those of you beyond a certain age will remember a famous TV police/detective program based in Hawaii, there's the clue.  Sparkling said she would not look this age when she hit it, I then agreed because she wouldn't at all in my eyes and her reply was along the lines of "but you do."  None of the I pay you a compliment if you pay me one.  Nope, not with Sparkles.  She will shoot from the hip and tell you as she sees it.  Sparkles always puts me in my place even when there is no need to put me anywhere.  Then afterwards I accept and get on with it.

When I hit those lands I will then have my own birthday and for a short period we will both be the same age.  The next day after my birthday Rock Chick goes to University and it will be her first day at Uni.  So all round it will be a wonderful event.  I may have to think of a different pseudonym for Rock Chick seeing she'll be a Uni girl.  Her course will be related to food and she is going to get a set of cooking knives, so she could be a knife throwing Uni girl.  No.  She might not like to be associated with throwing them.  Maybe something along the lines of Trainee Chef Uni Girl?   I'll just have to wait and see if something grabs me, as long as it's neither a knife or an electric whisk thrown in my direction I'm sure it will be OK with whatever pops to mind.  I sure hope she learns how to make a good chocolate cake.

It's odd how a longer than usual period of absence can effect me.  Absence from seeing Sparkles in particular, because this last few days I have  been pretty happy.  Happy and contented.  Just to be in her company and to see her.  Although I am being told she is having problems choosing a birthday present, the truth of the matter is, I don't care what she has chosen, spending time with Sparkles will more than fulfill my needs.

I also hear Dangerous Sports Lad is being good to Rock Chick so she is happy.  It's not odd to think all people need in their lives is a degree of happiness and contentment.  It makes me happy Rock is feeling good, I didn't want to order a hit on Dangerous, he's got his good sides, especially when he stops talking so much and lets other people say something.  It would also be better if he learnt to listen.  Of all the things the female species needs its someone who can listen.  It's only taken me a lifetime of studying psychology, but I'm getting there.  The only thing I need now is a map of the woman mind.  Maybe a map of Venus would be easier to obtain  O.K. a man might be able to listen, but he'd have to be gay to bloody understand them. 

Reactions and norms

Over the last few days I've witnessed something in action.  I'm going to call it the conscience reflex.  On a number of occasions in the last couple of weeks, individuals have approached me in an agitated mood.  One on the lower scale of of anger, being held in because the realms of their conscience is restraining them, then asked for something to be done.  In each case I've kept calm, didn't react, apologised if the case required it and then got on with what had to be done.  Shortly afterwards, those same individuals, as though from some inner conscience being pricked would talk to me with a more pleasant attitude.  As though they had realised their own actions may of been perceived in a poor light by me.   It was make-up behaviour.   Some kind of internal self awareness-scales were being put back into balance.  I don't mean to say this goes for everyone, but it must surely go for some people.  For those it don't work for it could be they don't care how their behaviour is perceived, they suffer from some kind of autism, they dislike me or they are psychotic.  If they are psychotic then their behaviour would of only been the edge of what might happen.  It does though make you wonder how common psychopaths are in real life.  They can't be too popular because we'd see instances all the time.  I could see the headline now "fat man murdered for stepping on toe"  and the assailant replying to the press "he stepped on my blue suede shoes."  Memo to self, don't step on anyone's shoes no matter what their colour.

Then again there are people we know, who do have distinctive behaviour which is on the border of normal and entering some other classification.  I should know because half the time Sparkling and I tell each other how normal we think we are in comparison to other members in our families.  No matter how much I want to believe I was somehow swapped at birth I can not deny the genetic similarities to my kin.  The only way around this would be get plastic surgery or wear a mask.  Then, on occasion Sparkling will say I'm not normal and show displays of odd behaviour.  I recall once when trying to purchase a book in a big store being frantic they didn't have the second of three books when I believed it was ridiculous and they should of.  If a set of books come in three then they should of had all three not just the first and last.  It makes sense.  Anyway Sparkles said I was stroppy.  But in my mind I had every right to be stroppy however, I really wasn't stroppy, I didn't think I was stroppy.  Not at all.  So perhaps, how other people perceive us is an indicator of whether we are normal.  But then what if the other person doing the observing isn't normal either?  What an enigma, because this means the realms of normal behaviour are wider than anyone can perceive.  What we perceive then becomes a narrow range of accepted behaviour or non accepted behaviour but get-over-it, or you get wound up by it behaviour.

There can not be such a thing as normal.  I could go walking down the street in an onion suit and get starred at, or worse get taken away by men in white coats and put into a secure facility.  Better than a local take-away thinking I really was a vegetable.  However, were there a whole bunch of people all dressed up in onion suits walking down the road, it would be a group norm and likely to be more readily accepted no matter how many observers turned their heads.  I'd only hope we didn't smell like them as well.  Then again there's a lot you can get used to.

Plumbing don't mix with books

OK, got the Fish Factory tomorrow and am wondering whether I should wear a suit, or if a plane shirt tie and set of boxers is enough.  It's because I'll be going to represent the Fish Factory at a Fish Court.  Thing is will the judge like my boxer's?  I mean some just don't go for it.  But I'm not going to know because this is my first time.  It will be interesting.  What do I do? What do I say?  Should I buy some gum before I start the day?  You know.  Just in case a bad case of crap-breath turns arises.  I'm sure I can cope.  It's the others I should be worried about.  Well it's a new experience and part of being a middle fishy now.  It will be fine.  I'm sure.  Though I'd of liked a few minutes chat with Sparkling just to get her view on things.  Then maybe it would be a bad idea, she might get me to doubt myself, play a little of her funny magic.  The kind which confuses me and makes me wonder what day of the week it is.  What a fine mess I'd be in then. 

Sparkling, Sparkling where are you?  Again it's been a few days since we had a chat.  The evening I thought I was going to have a chat on there was no response.  Hey Sparkles, are you avoiding me?  I know your not.  It's just they got you running around so much at your Fish Factory there's not enough time in the day for you to get sleep.  Sleep takes greater precedence than chit chatting with Crazyfirdayman honey.  I understand.  But I wonder even if you do get back late maybe one night we could have a brief chat.  OK I know you will want me to rub your feet but I can't because I'm not there.  But I could rub mine.  I got this mango body butter, it smells really nice and once in a while just rub it in my hands if they get too dry.  It's nice.  But not as nice as seeing you honey.  Which will be soon.  Once I book the blooming ticket, then you can get me to do the gardening, rub your feet and fix the fog horn sounding toilet.  Damn, this reminds me to watch the DIY plumbing DVD i bought the other day.  Just in case there is some tips.  If only there were evening classes on basic manning up.  Doing man things.  My forte is more of reading books, thinking, and drinking coffee.  So yes honey, wherever you are at this moment, am missing you and can't wait to see you.  Mwah.  I think Sparkles will get the message.

I hear Dangerous Sports Lad has returned from his sojourn.  Rock and Dangerous were so overwhelmed when they saw each other after six weeks, Sparkles said they had tears in their eyes. Awwwe, wonderful young love.  Every time I see Sparkles I want to smile and tell her she looks beautiful.  I then hear after a day the two of them had an argument.  Blimey I thought, even me and Sparkles don't argue after one day, well usually two or three, by then I've done something which deserves a slapping into place.  I mean a verbal slapping though usually I deserve it, I'm sure.  Well to tell the truth I'm not sure.  Which is all part of the Sparkles magic.  It must be those eyes.  It's because Rock Chick hasn't quite got Dangerous round her little finger, it takes a little work.  Once he's been in her company for a week or more, he'll be throwing his coat in puddles for her and doing back flips at Rock's command.  After all if there's anything, Sparkles is the best teacher Rock can have, look at me.  No please don't.  Hundreds of miles away and just can't stop thinking about Sparkles.   Well, just to say, the days will start counting down as soon as I book my ticket, which will probably be on Wednesday.  Tomorrow I got gym.  Hey a man's gotta try and man up even if he's better with books than with taps, washers and spanners.

Running in a quiet mind - not possible

Well I did get out and have a run this morning.  I said I would, and I did.  Running an extra circuit round a field and getting up earlier than last week.  It is cooler and even windier as well.  I noticed more than usual how I just kept thinking about stuff.  How thoughts about all kinds of things would just pop into my head.  Some were as strong as horses others were like fleeting butterflies, dropping into consciousness and back out again.  It seemed to happen more in the earlier stages of the run.  When I was getting my wind.  This takes about twenty minutes of hard panting and suddenly breathing finds a comfortable place.  My legs felt as heavy as lead but the breathing was a lot easier.  So the normal circuit of just two laps ended up 3 laps of a field.   There were also fewer people about.  With no over friendly dogs.  I think people who walk dogs are friendlier than most other people around, they usually say hello to each other.  Except their dogs don't say a great deal, they rather just shit or chase things.  Hence my chicken legs giving them a wide path.

When I was thinking, I thought about trying to not think as I ran.  Then I thought, well how about trying to think when I ran and for about two seconds this achieved silence.  I thought about the pigeons on the roof of what would be a good method to get rid of them.  Spikes came to mind, as did getting a ferret and letting it loose under the tiles.  However, how to get the thing back became problematic.  As I ran I thought what about making a tape recording of my thoughts while I run.  Then I'd have a diatribe of rubbish.  But even amongst the rubbish there would be an odd gemstone worth keeping.   I thought about reminding myself to wear a suit to the Fish Factory on Tuesday. I've only got the one suit, so then thought whether I should get another.  I had been asked to attend a court hearing to remove a fish from a fish pond.  However, it all could be postponed or I might not be needed.  I wondered on how many calories this running would use up.  I wondered if thinking about nothing and trying to achieve a silent mind would actually do something at all.  Whether I'd gain from it or not.  The book I'm reading is fleetingly having an influence on me.  Paradox, change and comedy all the necessary elements of accepting life, finding some sane quiet place. Never letting things become bothersome because of your very attitude.  The paradox of never being harmed by anything, it only being your own attitude which creates the distress.  So you can see.  Having a run and trying to keep a quite mind is one hell of a challenge.

Eventually I did find some kind of peace.  It must of been when I was soaking in hot water having a bath afterwards.  Or maybe it was when I just sat down and found I had to keep my back straight.  Exercise does this, for some reason you just can't help but want to correct your own posture.  I still feel fat, but at least my back is a little straighter.

Autumn is coming so is sleeplessness

I'm getting an attack of the munchies.  It's been months of exercise and food deprivation, you know, those evening meals.  Cutting down.  Eating apples, so many apples I get the feeling my stomach is fermenting.  I try and blame it on the weather, because it's raining, the evenings are beginning to draw darker sooner.  The wind is picking up and September is nearly here.  The summer has officially come to an end and I'm beginning to ask myself if I should start taking the odd dose of echinacea to prevent cold and flu symptoms for the coming months.  How do you protect yourself from the depression of winter, even clowns seem to go into hibernation.

I hit the Fish Factory this morning.  It was very quiet, like the fishes had enough and decided not to bite any bait, no matter how juicy it was.  I didn't mind because it meant distractions down to a minimum and some good quality time to concentrate.  However, there is always those few about, who for some reason do like the sound of their own voice, or have penchant to bellowing.  What is it about vocally loud people?  It's like their ability to bellow is a marker of their own self, a way of imposing who they are on others, or perhaps worse some inferiority complex.  If only they'd get over it and speak in a gentler tone of voice where there's no need to wince.

I was hoping to speak to Sparkling Eyes tonight, but for some reason she's gone silent.  Maybe she has been called in for a session at her Fish Factory.  I know Dangerous Sports lad is probably back today from a six week course so Rock Chick will be ecstatic.  Where are you Sparkles? 

Tomorrow I must exercise.  I should of done some today, but with the Fish Factory and all, it was put on the back burner.  If it rains I'll hit the gym, if it's semi pleasant it will be the park and dog avoidance practice.  Now all I need is a fast metabolism.

Doing exercise didn't seem to help me sleep last night.  It was one of those restless nights when I wasn't sure if I did actually drop off at all, it felt like I was half away all night long.  Just laying there and turning every so often.  Perhaps I shouldn't be reading my bed time book.  It's called The Way of the Peaceful Warrior.  I saw the film and thought the book might be worth a try.  It's about some University gymnast who meets an old man at a late night petrol station.  They form a friendship and the old man teaches the kid inner peace.  I'm sure it's fashioned on Buddhist teachings.  The gymnast seems to be going through some kind of mental break down at the moment, just so he can be re-built as a calmer all knowing peaceful person.  Yep.  Maybe this is why I couldn't sleep.  I'm having a sympathetic mental sleep break down and wake up semi comatose in order to be at one with myself.  The alternative could be I just need an extra blanket.  Somethings are not as deep as you'd expect.  Now to sow up my mouth and stop shovelling in food.

Don't get distracted or your trousers could fall down

The power of distraction is an amazing thing.  There I was this morning, getting ready for work, putting the effort in to look smart, smell nice and straighten my tie when I sat down for just a moment to open a bill and look over it.  My concentration had temporarily been switched from one thing to another.  I looked at the figures, made some estimates, thought a bit then realised I had to get out of the door as time ticked by.  As it always does when it is in short supply and you have to be somewhere.  Coat on and out of the door, walking down the road, reached the stairs to a flyover and then realised I wasn't fully dressed.  I had forgotten to put on my belt.  Swift calculations went through my mind.  The complex calculus of whether it was worth going back to the house and threading a belt through my trousers, how long it would take.  This was then weighed up against the possibility of my trousers falling down.  Whether I would last the morning without something approaching embarrassing happening.  I took the gamble.  So throughout the morning my shirt kept riding up and needed tucking back in.  I tugged repeatedly at the loops of my trousers, just giving them an assured upward pull and support.  Fortunately nothing happened.  I was still fat enough to keep them suspended.  A shame to say, but yes the fat-man syndrome had a comforting practical purpose.  Lunchtime came and out I went, first thing before the eat-as-much-as-you-like-Chinese was a belt.  After the Chinese though, I really didn't need it.

I have to purchase a ticket to see the wonderful Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick.  The thought brings a smile to my face and a happy demenour.  I just can't wait to see her.  We had a chat on the phone the other night and before I knew it I had been tangled up in a web of confusion.  I was flabbergasted and puzzled, scratching my head and wondering how I'd gotten there.  Sparkling laughed whereas I couldn't think of what to say, except it didn't bother me because I was very happy anyway.  But I do wonder if she used the secret Ninja art of distraction as well, except I can't tell when it was she used it.  She must have several black belts.

Tomorrow is Saturday, of course.  I will be getting up early because I have been asked to open up the Fish Factory.  As there is a big pile of fish waiting for me to prepare I felt there was no real choice.  If I didn't get on with it the sell by date was going to come back and hit me with a big wiff.  Work is beginning to tire me, but at the same time I am happy and energized by it.  Five months have now passed since I moved from being a little fish to a middle sized fish.  It's amazing how quickly the time has passed, I am always kept busy, and get lots of distractions.  The problem with distractions are they always take you away from something which is very important and must be dealt with.  Which is very annoying, because of all the things you get to learn, if your attention is diverted the thing you only partially managed to do is going to come back and bite you in the backside harder than a bionic jawed Rottweiler.  It brings tears to the eyes just thinking about it.  Better not get distracted then.

Crumpets and pigeons

Well after a couple of days, the pigeons stopped coming out from the tiles at the front of the house.  I don't know why but they are still using the tiles at the back of the house.  It could be there are two separate flocks of them and those at the back have some alternative way of entering underneath the roof tiles.  Half the job done is better than none.  Yet I am still vexed by them.  I look up at the house and think my mate has taken back his ladder and now not am I impotent in checking where the pigeons get in or out, I can't paint a bedroom window which is in desperate need of it.  Not to mention autumn will well and truly be here in the next couple of weeks.  It wouldn't do me much good if I did have a ladder, there's been so much rain painting would be out of the question.

This dieting lark has reached a plateau, last week I lost nothing and for some reason I feel nothing will be lost this week.  I am almost giving way to my cravings, you know the ones.  To eat crisps, chocolate, biscuits and cake.  I am giving in to carbohydrates and am pretty sure this is the reason why the last week has been abysmal.  Bollocks, shouldn't of eaten those two crumpets earlier, they're bound not to help.  When will the scientists create an alternative to flour which isn't a carb, there would be a lot of money in I'm sure.

It's not just the dieting which has hit a brick wall, I went to the gym tonight and didn't feel like doing much there either.  So only did half a work out.  I see some snotty nosed kid running fast on a treadmill but one away from me, like yeah,  you little shit, you can run faster than me I thought.  But after five minutes I saw him drop the pace down considerably.  His bursts of speed running were just to show the world that he can do it but he was showing off, he couldn't sustain the pace so has no real stamina.  Then after twenty minutes I hit the wall and had to walk.  God what a come down it was.  The real fat man walking side was showing up.  I couldn't even compare my walking pace with the little shit's slower jogging pace.  He'd well and truly beat me now.  If I were twenty pounds lighter I'd really show him what a fat or rather not so fat older bloke can do.  The little snot nosed bugger if I had a rottweiler and he was out running I'd see if he could run even faster.  Four legs are better than two.

I suppose the alternative is to feed the pigeons and get on good terms with them.  Then ask a favour.  If they see the little shit come out of the gym go and have a big flocking shit on him.  Sometimes the thought of being Doctor Doolittle can be quite appealing.

Now reached the 502nd blog, yippee

Well I've broken the 500 blog mark now.  Yes.  It's hard to believe.  Last year I went crazy and blogged a lot, this year I've been a little lax.  This blog is the 502 blog I have written, doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself.  Which sounds a bit perverse, lets not go along this track.  But you know what I mean. 

I had another text from my niece today.  It was her training day and she was told they definitely want her for the job as a sales assistant.  She is so happy I can sense it each time she sends a text.  She may not be the sharpest tool in the box (which I put this down to age) but she certainly is a tryer.  It's fantastic news.  And unbelievably she was only on the dole for one week.  I am happy as well.  It's amazing how a little bit of good news can go a long way in a day. 

I can't say the same for night.  I think I must of been abducted by aliens, at some point last night I went to bed, read a little then slept.  The rest is a complete blank.  I woke up later than usual at 7:00 a.m and it wasn't the pigeons.  I felt refreshed and couldn't believe I'd slept.  The funny thing was I think I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in.  Weird.  It's quite natural to toss and turn during sleep.  So it has got to be alien abduction.  Those pesky aliens are sticklers for putting everything exactly back in the same place they found it.  I hope next time they can do something about my teeth.  A fresh white set would be great, they can take the old ones out and experiment on them.  Oh yes, and as long as I wake up with no memory and completely happy with my sleep.

I was in the gym this evening and felt my usual fat self.  It was a drag, but I'm definitely getting fitter.  I don't think I should of gone to the Chinese eat-as-much-as-you-like because it probably defeats the two hours of exercise I did.  I'm wondering if I should start building my chest up, and my shoulders.  I am catching on to this theory about big muscles.  It goes along the line of, the bigger the muscles you have when they are resting the more calories they burn.  So you can basically do very little and know your body is going to sort itself out.  The only problem is getting the big muscles in the first place, which takes a little effort.  Of course the other asset would be a bigger chest could hide my man boobs or moobs as someone once said.  Then I can stop an idea of a training bra.  Age really does do things to you, things you couldn't even contemplate when you're young and life is so wonderful.  Where is the elixir of youth?  I don't know, but I wish I bloody did.

Pigeons are still squating with no intention of leaving

The roofer eventually came to look at the tiles and try and find any nooks and crevices where the pigeons accessed their roost.  It's been three or four days now and still I wake up to the clatter of tiles.  Mr Roofer, wasn't quite sure whether he was would be able to correct the problem to start of with.  He hasn't.  I now am wondering what the next step is.  The little buggers or rather big flying rat-buggers have got an entrance point and Mr Roofer can not find it.  Does this now mean I have to research about pigeons?  Does it mean I have to become an expert?  Does it mean I have to go to the most drastic decision of re-roofing which will require a loan from the bank and years of repayments till it is sorted out.  Mr Roofer suggested the blighters could be entering the tiles from another adjacent property.  I continually keep going outside and looking up at the roof to see if I can see any pigeons.  Just in case I might catch sight of them entering via their secret passage way.  Thing is this secret entrance point is so good I can't see it, the roofer can't see it I'm beginning to think they cast some invisibility spell to access it.

For the past two days Sparkling and Rock have been without phone, internet or TV.  Their media provider has a fault.  Rock Chick in her surprise said to Sparkling "mum, so does this mean we are officially poor?"  It fortunately wasn't to do with non payment of bills.  I'm sure Sparkling is getting to a stage of facebook withdrawal symptoms.  Rock Chick in the meantime has been going through DVDs like a fish drinks water so must also be reaching saturation point.  Then again not being able to do much with a post operative wort less foot probably means she square eyed at this time anyway.  Rock has also got confirmation of her University place and a list of things she has to purchase.  Knives being one of them.  Being she's going to be into the cooking thing.  I wonder if they will teach her how to wash up as well?  In fact it could be one of her first lessons, a sink with a thousand dishes and instructions on how to clean different types of food stuffs.  Just to get her to understand.  It's a fault I'm sure all teenagers have, not understanding when they cause a mess they should clean up after themselves.

My niece the Bam Bam girl begins her first day at work tomorrow.  She is doing a training course at a local hotel.  It may be shop work, but I spoke to her on the phone and she was so excited over the whole thing.  It just makes me so very happy for her.  Especially when seeing her mother who shys away from work like water sticks to Dracula.  If of course you have ever noticed from the Dracula films, he never gets wet.  Well this is the image of her mother and work, or to mix comparisons, oil and water.  It makes me sick of knowing a member of my own family just would rather scrounge of the welfare system than find her own way into work.  My tax money has been paying her welfare for years.  But the world is changing, watch this space.  Yes, Bam Bam girl is happy and excited and is taking the initiative and doing it for herself.  Something which has to be admired.

I managed to have a short chat with Sparkles this afternoon, which was very nice.  Is always very nice talking to her.  For a moment the subject of Sparkles working in my Fish Factory came up.  I shuddered the thought. Being I've now got on the middle rung of Fish.  Quite frankly my dear Sparkles would ensure I am held account to everything, no matter how small it was I did.  She thinks the power would go to my head.  Thing is I'm the least power wielding person I could know.  There's just too much work to be getting on with than being a megalomaniac.  Anyway, after getting up at four thirty in the morning because of the pigeons, it takes me most of the day to wake up.  Bloody things.  I wonder if i can get a double barrelled shot gun of eBay and a good recipie from Rock Chick?

The fear of being shafted

Well today should of been the day the Roofer came, to check out the tiles and serve an eviction notice on the flying rats who still clatter down them each morning.  No phone call, nothing.  Mind it did rain bad yesterday and he probably thought it wasn't worth breaking his neck falling from the roof today.  I don't blame him, I wouldn't either.  The thing is I still need the job done and am approaching desperation, but want someone who is competent and not a cowboy.  I don't know about anyone else but I always feel those people who maintain houses by working on them are out in some way to shaft me of my readies.  Builders, workmen, plumbers, fitters, joiners, roofers, brickies, glaziers, sparkies the whole bloody lot.  Maybe part of it is because a lot of their kind of jobs like changing washers on taps, mixing cement are the kind which don't strike me as particularly difficult.  When I say difficult, I mean they do involve a degree of skills, but once those skills have been learnt then there is not much in the way of learning a great deal more.  Whereas at my own Fish Factory job, there are so many technical changes in weights measures, legal requirements the mind can quite easily be blown away with it all.  To me, if you need to do general building work then there should be someone who lives in your own street who will pop in and help you out for the cost of a cup of tea and a chit chat.  This is a cuckoo land fairy tale, because this mental image is nothing like the reality.  Bloody cowboys, being shafted and just when the pain is too much to bear you get shafted again.  Maybe I been watching too many of those programs on TV about con men builders. Oh please sir don't use the pineapple my arse is too sore.

On a quite different note, poor Rock Chick fell over and hurt her foot while it was still in the process of recovering from the operation.  Sparkling has told me it will take another week of having the foot dressed.  Sparkling is doing so many hours in the her Fish Factory she is exhausted and sleeps like a log.  I expect the aliens wont even be bothering with abducting her then.

I've just this minute had a phone call from the roofer, excellent news.  He's gong to come tomorrow, with his mate.  Maybe my rant was a little premature.  Or maybe I'll experience a shafting when I get his expert opinion on how much work will be needed.  OK better get the lube out, hide the fruit, and do a couple of Hail Mary's on the rosary.  Shit just realised I don't believe in the faith thing.  Boy am I f.....d.

A Wet day in London

It's been a dreary, miserable and rainy day in London. Whilst in the Bahamas, it is hot, the coconuts swing high up in the branches of coconut trees, nice ripe juicy mangoes are swollen like a full termed pregnancy and are ready to drop any second and the locals are cooking their favourite fish dish with plenty of spices and herbs.  I know where I'd rather be.  So how come I'm here getting wet.  Dumped on by one of the Athenian Gods.  I must of done something bad in a previous life. 

I've had two text messages from Sparkling Eyes today and would of liked a few minutes of phone conversation just to see how she is.  Apparently last night when she came back from her Fish Factory she witnessed Rock Chick and University girl getting drunk on Champagne and Cider.  My thoughts were along the lines of were they mixing them and where'd the Champagne come from?  Sparkles indicated they were having a good time, putting the world to rights, with the main topic being boyfriends.  What a coincidence from yesterdays BLOG.  Whereas men put the world to rights with pints and shorts, then they usually don't put the world to rights at all because talking about painful things is something we just don't do.  Most blokes prefer football and if they do groan about their partner it will only be five minutes and then usually find another subject to talk about.  It might be because like the goldfish our memory only lasts for about five seconds or the awful thought if the partner found out they were talking about them then they'd get an even worse ear ache than they had before.  Seeing as I have no mates, it don't matter.  I just sit in a corner talking to myself waiting for someone to ring for an ambulance and cart me away to a nicely padded room.  No ones has done this either so I must look sadder than I thought chatting to myself.  I can feel a song coming on, but I'll let you guess what it is.

It all makes sense now why it's been raining.  If you got to be sad then it may as well piss down on you, a bit like the icing on the cake.  The reality is though, I don't feel sad at all. The Fish Factory has been very busy the last couple of days and I've been rising to the challenge.  All I need now is someone to talk to and mend the world, maybe over a pint.  

Rock's Man problems

Rock Chick is layed up with one foot in the air, or rather supported by a sofa and a cushion.  The nasty little bugger (wart) has been removed after surgery.  Now it will take about three to four weeks to heel up.  In the meantime her boyfriend, Dangerous Sports Lad is off away for six weeks in another part of the country doing things associated with his occupation.  So in these circumstances you would of thought he'd be talking to her every night saying how much he misses her and how he can't wait to get back.  But he is a man, a bloody man who needs to grow balls.

Rock Chick tells me there are two sides to Dangerous, there's the side she had tamed which got named the New Dangerous and there's the side before she met him she terms the Old Dangerous.  The untamed Old Dangerous is even more self centred and petulant than the New Dangerous, which is a feat in itself.  The absence of Rock Chick's presence has now effected New Dangerous so he is reverting to the Old Dangerous.  Of course I want to kill him via a contract with my Sicilian friends.  I would if I had them, but I haven't been to Sicily so I don't.  I am particularly annoyed because poor Rock Chick has so far endured three weeks without Dangerous and it seems on a number of occasions he has been able to make her cry from a phone call.  I have said to Rock Chick this behaviour is unacceptable and she should just put the phone down on him.  Sparkling is also distraught with the situation and advised Rock the same.  Instead, I get a text of a phone call made yesterday and another crying session.  This again is outrageous to me; consequently I feel protective of Rock and angry at Dangerous.

Of course Dangerous can only hurt Rock Chick if she lets him.  To this extent Rock has to make her own decision whether the Dangerous he now is (Old), is someone she should still care about.  If she does and still has an affinity to this scrotum, I'll have no choice but to set the dogs on him when I next see him, stick his jaw together with superglue, find the biggest hob nailed boot I can and kick him up the arse, put a slow working laxative in his drink just before he is about to leave on a bus trip, take his skateboard and accidentally drive a car over it, stitch up the legs to his jeans, put his phone number in a Gents toilet frequented by other Gents who prefer Gent company than Ladies company, with of course an accompanying message about being free, single, available and up for anything, and lastly as he is sleeping one night, shave his head till he's bald and write in indelible ink "I am an idiot" on the back.  Only then might my satisfaction be quelled from the tears he has made Rock Chick endure.

It's certainly true, when someone you care about deeply is sad you can't help but want to take the sadness away and make them feel happier.  However, sometimes such sadness is a learning experience, and to learn something as important as how to deal with an idiot boyfriend for a girl like Rock is part of growing up.  Alternatively, if she reads this BLOG there might be some very useful hints.  Just say the word Rock and his arse will belong to a man called Shirley who's got a thing going for young bald men (idiots).

Look out for stinky landmines

I had another weekend run this morning. It was around the same piece of heath land as my last run.  Before getting there there is however a steep hill to climb, or reduce to a snails pace.  I did notice I could get up the hill easier than my last runs so it must mean something is happening. Dare I even use the word fitter?  Possibly, would be the answer.  As I'd left it just a little bit later than last time there were more dog walkers to contend with.  My head kicks into gear with dogs and their walkers.  For instance, never suddenly speed up, never make either a bee line for the walker or for the dog, even if it would be the usual line to run on, if necessary slow down or run around an obstacle to put something between the dog and my wonderful looking chicken legs, without the gravy.  And of course never, ever carry a packet of pork sausages in your pocket.  Which stands to reason. The next point to bare in mind is to consider what they leave behind.  Dog shit.

I remember once being on holiday in a hot country and how shit would dry up pretty quickly, it would lose it's stink and then wouldn't be any bother when it came to treading on it, being more like a dejected Farley's rusk.  But in the UK because of our wonderfully wet weather, dog shit stays active for a long time.  It must be the humidity.  Like miniature landmines it just hangs about for days on end, waiting for some unsuspecting person who just took their eye of the path for one moment to step right in it.  Although there are a lot of dog owners out there who may even bother to clear up their dog's shit, there's just as many who don't..  These are the one's you'd just like to post their own dog shit through their letter box and see how they feel about it then.  But of course it doesn't happen, and if you do see someone allow their dog to shit, what are you going to do, stand there and have an argument, which then antagonises the dog who wants to protect the owner so decides it's time to show some teeth.  Local Council's put up notices for on the spot fines, but I must say I have never seen anyone get fined for their dog's shit. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, it's just their shit I don't like.  I think they are wonderful animals, great companions and guards.  Responsible owners are fine, it's the irresponsible ones who need a lesson.  In my mind every dog should be chipped.  There'd be chip and shit fines then.  I don't know why I have deliberated so much on such a subject.  Especially as I didn't tread in any today.  Just to say, I did notice some large piles of it while out pounding the streets.  If I hadn't then my trainers would be stinking of it no doubt.

.

Pigeons you are on notice

The pigeons are on notice.  Yes!!  The ones who reside under my roof tiles and then come clattering out every morning just as the sun rises.  The ones who like to have early morning parades, stumping about and then follow it up with incessant cooing, those ones.  Yes, their time is limited.  I've had a roofer come round and arranged for him to do a survey.  He didn't know where they were getting in either, but he will check out the whole roof and report back to me on what work needs to be done.  My fingers are crossed he can find their entrance point, and they will no longer have residence here.  He saw to how neighbours had thrown old break up on a garage roof.  If only I could do something about such habits as well, but I can't.  These flying rats are going to go, and the sooner the better.  I suggested a double barrelled shot gun, but he knew the tiles would get damaged, so it fell on equally deft ears when I pulled out an old RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) I had stacked next to a small set of ladders.  So it seems having a little fun while doing away with the things is out of the question.  I wouldn't mind even the cat seems to have no appetite for pigeon, the lazy little bugger, he sleeps all day wants nothing but affection and in return fails to rid me of these vermin.  Maybe I should put him on eBay and see if I get any offers.

It just so happened I noticed a window has been broken as well.  It's a single glazed upstairs bathroom one.  I can't work out how it happened.  Maybe a bird flew into it, but if a bird had flown into it at such force it would of tumbled down to the ground and I'd see it.  Unless the lazy cat then went and ate it up.  Which would be typical.  I looked for any stones which is inconclusive as a stone would of bounced back off the window, cracked it and could of ended up anywhere else in the garden.  I wondered if it might be a pellet from an air rifle.  But again had this happened then it would easily of been lost on the ground.  Therefore I don't know what cracked and broke the window and I don't have a clue when it happened. I'll blame it on the pigeons, well we all need something to heap blame on, and they're are just as good as anything else.

I hit the gym yesterday as a method of getting away from it all.  Then went on the running machine and did a good forty minutes without stopping.  I held a slow pace, didn't push it and just kept going, taking the occasional swig of water from a plastic bottle.  Which reminds me I read an article in the news about some chemical in plastic bottles which isn't good for men's sperm.  So it's plastic bottles which will lead to the demise of mankind.  Shame because it will give women kind something less to moan about.  It's funny the thoughts which go through your head when trotting away.  But running in a gym is nothing like a run in the park.  The park is better, tougher, it demands attention and the skill of a strategist.  Taking the right route to avoid dogs, ensuring when running down a hill it's done at a controlled pace other wise it will be face down if not on your arse.  Oh yes and always take a water bottle.  Damn back to the plastic issue again.  Well at least I can breath a little easier, exercising is good for combating asthma.  But not so good for the little fishes.  Well everything has some kind of risk.  At least the pigeons haven't had a good shit on me, wait to they find out they been evicted.  Memo look out for a hat for next week's run.

An odd pair of shorts, or an odd pair of legs

Rock Chick went to the hospital today to have an operation on her feet, or foot.  I think it was just one of them. The quacks had to remove a nasty little bugger of a wart, which had refused all manner of treatment.  Even in this hi tech age they had hit it with a laser, and it was no sufficient enough to remove the unwanted friend.  So for some reason I have been a little preoccupied.  Wondering what was going on, I'd been texting Sparkling Eyes and had no response from her.  The operation was to be at lunch time and Rock Chick was to be out mid afternoon ish.  However there was a delay so she didn't get out till a little later. I'd text messaged both Rock and Sparkling in the morning to say I would be thinking of them and loved them.   Rock replied and said she basically wasn't bothered about the surgery.  She is a brave girl I thought, and I recalled how she had been to the dentist and refused to have an anaesthetic.  Without doubt Rock Chick is made of very strong stuff.  Later in the afternoon I rang up Sparkling and my call was disconnected.  Or rather answered but Sparkling must of dropped the phone back in her bag.  I could hear a faint conversation and noise, so wasn't able to make out what was being said.  It mean there was nothing to worry about, and my suspicion over the noise was of Rock being wheeled out of the hospital, it proved to be right.  I didn't worry too much and went off to the gym.

I was tired as I entered the gym and felt an urge to sleep.  Usually when I feel so tired it's a good sign and it means relaxed and having a work out it brings good results.  I got dressed and something strange happened. Sleepy or distracted, I put on my shorts they felt odd, tho not too odd, which I put down to it being a pair of shorts I'd not worn in a couple of weeks and the Fatman syndrome. Next was  socks and then trainers.   I picked up my empty water bottle and put it in a pocket..  This was the strangest thing of all.it was now the pockets seemed odd.  Very odd.  I sat for just one moment reflecting on this odd thing, and then realised I had put my shorts on back to front.  I laughed and must of looked an odd sight as I dropped my shorts, turned them around and put the back on the correct way, but still had my trainers on.  What a Wholly I thought. 

Distraction is the master method used by magicians to do their tricks.  So it seems is tiredness and thinking of other things.  Well at least I put on my coat the right way, if I didn't I'd be wearing another coat which might seem back to front but would be the correct fitting.for the place I'd be going.