Non speaking Sparkling and too much Guinness

Sparkling has lost her voice, so after a few pints I tried to ring her up.  The phone was put down on me.  I cried.  she didn't want to hear me.  I wasn't expecting much, a whisper would of done.  Then I get a text reply, in which she uses a number of profanities.  It's like the world wants to hear her, when it is the worst thing in the world to talk.  I can feel my own throat going a bit funny as well.  Poor thing.  I love her and said so in at least three text replies.  There were responses from Sparkling again they had language I can not repeat, in fear of harming the innocent.  Poor thing.  I said in response, if love could heal you would be perfectly well now.  I'm sure at this point she was probably pushed to the brink of madness and would of rung my neck.  I'd of deserved it, except for the fact I'd had too much Guinness in the pub so it was the Guinness speaking.  I still love her anyway.

I needed to hit the loo just before I returned back to the ranch.  Walked up three flights of stairs which is really a big drag when you have difficulty putting on foot in front of the other.  Staggered from side to side.  Looked up at the CCTV camera and gave it a big smile and a wave, although no one was around.  It's a message just to say I know you are watching.  Then pushed open the swing door and headed for the urinals.  It was then I realised how another version of hell can hit an inebriated man.  As I reached down for my zip, I couldn't find it.  It had somehow got stuck.  I fumbled and thought shit, if this carries on I will be pissing myself.  Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite me in the arse for trying to text Sparkling.  If so it was in advance because it wasn't till later tried to ring her.  It seemed like hours.  I could of sworn I was wearing mittens.  Where is the bloody zip I thought.  Somehow one of my finger nails caught it.  With a little more effort I was free.  A torrent of relief followed.

Darlink I love you.  Even when I'm pissed, see my face I'm smiling right now.  Yep he's definitely had one too many.

Cat on demand, tickle on demand, feet rub on demand and now speak double dutch

Chrimbo has been spent in the wonderful company of Sparkling, Rock Chick, L & B man and the rest of the family.  It has gone very quickly and tomorrow I'm due to head south to the Big Smokey as L & B man calls it.  However, the demands on my waist line have pushed my belt to the last buckle hole.   In one evening session my jeans must of looked particularly tight because in his inimitable way L & B man had to bring it to attention.  He said I had a man-gina, my jeans looked like I'd got a camel toe.  Bloody great.  I suppose this was him getting me back for making a comment about his torn styled jeans when out shopping.  Just as Sparkling always says Karma is a bitch.  Well it probably more than got me back last night, foot rub demands were the start of it, then going to bed it took on another side.

Olly the cat decided to show his power.  During the night this was done three times.  His meow screamed out such comments as "I am hungry go and feed me now" and "don't forget to stroke me and give me attention"  or there was the "check out my litter tray and clean it, I want to use it again," of course being only a biped I have an issue with understanding exactly what he is saying.  In any case it does mean I have to get up, go downstairs, see what task he has now set and get to work to his exacting demands. I'm now well and truly trained.  Being winter and all, it's cold getting up for the cat.  It's OK for him, with his nice black and white fur coat, he just makes assumptions we are all he same, we're not!  Which is what he banks on.  In the meantime also during the night Sparkling needed her back tickled.  Twice I was called upon to do this when she had woken up because of coughing (residue flu bug) and I had also ran downstairs to get some cough linctus.  There were then at least five calls during the night I had to make.  The next morning Sparkles said it was the best night's sleep she'd had. 

This evening Sparkles has lost her voice.  At first it was quite nice not having the light of Sparkle's opinion over anything, but then it became annoying.  I like to hear what Sparkles has to say, even if I don't agree with it, or even if it is to tell me to "shut up."  I feel lost without it.  I like to listen to her.  Unless it's to do with chores I should of done and hadn't.  So the evening has been quite, except for the odd remark from Rock, who will not wash up anything she dirties, and Dangerous Sports Lad just hasn't been trained enough to do Rock's washing up for her.  Karma is what I say to you Rock Chick, watch out because you can never tell what form it will be in.

Meow, bloody cat.  What's he saying now?  "hey biped, come and put some more water in my bowl." I wonder if he's ever been shown a fur hat before?

Overhead power lines and a Monkey's Shoulder

I got into the pub late from the Fish Factory.  Sat down amongst a number of alcoholics and ordered my single pint.  I know I should stop going to the pub, but it's one of those easier said things than done.  It took a while to get into the habit so it will likely take a while to get out of it.  Besides the difficult part is trying to stop myself from going but I like the company and the winding down process alcohol gives.

I sat there and said hello to Mr Che Guevara Bag man as he sipped at a glass of red wine.  This is usually an indication of how long he has been in the pub, his regular tipple is Stella, then it's the red wine and lastly, absolute getting completely pissed state is indicated by a shot of whisky, Monkey's Shoulder to be precise.  Yes, it's a real spirit not made up.  A member of our chilled intoxicated group commented to Che his red wine was leaving a mark on his upper lip, an almost demonic kind of upper red fang look.  For me, this led to a moment of hilarity as he began to lick his lips in an effort to try and removed the marks being left.  It was like he had just devoured the most wonderful roast beef and was trying to find if any minute morsel had left it's trace on his lips.  It was like my cat Stinky licking the very last drops of cream stuck to his whiskers.  Unfortunately, my laughter just led to Che getting annoyed at me and spouting off some four letter words.  I didn't take it to heart and called him baby face.  It's the alcohol it makes people say things they wouldn't normally say.  Otherwise Che is very much a pussy cat who doesn't swear too often, and has to put up with the ignorance of uncultivated, uncouth Joe Public in his ordinary work. And they have been known to occasionally shout abuse at him.  Witticism can so often be lost on idiots, especially when it takes them three weeks to work out the punch line of a joke.  Well you had to be there.

Tomorrow I'm due to head up North.  I hear the train service East Coast stopped running today because some train which uses the overhead power lines broke down.  The thing is not all trains use the overhead lines.  The one I would get on is diesel run and doesn't, so a simple solution would be not to run those ones dependent on, you guessed it, overhead power.  Is it me or does it take a moron to actually not understand this concept.  I'm to harsh to judge.  After all the train line is rented by train companies, and different companies run the line.  The worst thing which happened to this country was nationalisation of the train services.  Oh well gone are the olden days.  Think I'll see if I can get a monkey's shoulder, maybe I'll take two for tomorrow, better make a sandwich, find extra clothes and even possibly contemplate leaving earlier than normal.  Snow, snow, go away come back on another day.  Preferably one when the idiots have laid in and are not running trains requiring overhead power.

Lessons in being a cat

What do you do when your cat refuses to act like a cat and do what you expect him to do?  Stinky isn't going out in the garden, maybe it's something to do with the snow, the cold or his plain misunderstanding of his own job description.  The one which begins with, "You are a cat."  I've gotten to the point of talking to him and trying to explain what his role is in the household.  My personal endeavours to go running out in the garden when the pigeons drop down to scare them away just isn't cutting it.  I hear a great flock of them on the roof, run out, find a stick and toss it up towards them.  The stick appears to float upwards through the air in desperate slow motion and the pigeons fly away no harm done.  I'm just scaring them, but they keep returning.  If I scare them away enough then maybe they will not perch on the roof and get under the roof because the big-bad-man who resides there is a monster.  The type they would talk to their chicks about as they grow up in the nest.  The reality is I should be made redundant from this role because stinky should be doing it not me.  So what is wrong with him, how come he is not up to the job?  He should be prowling around the house, looking upwards longingly.  The pigeons in the meantime would warily wonder if their perching places is the best to be and just maybe, they'd fly away to someone elses house.  The situation is getting so desperate I have even considered dressing up as a cat and taking Stinky out in the garden then he could watch me chase the pigeons.  He might learn something from it.  Mind the image of a fat man in a cat costume doing this might scare him for the rest of life and give him a phobia.  If they talked to me the neighbours would think I had  cracked up.  And maybe the pigeons would fall of their perches in laughter and fly away.  The pros and cons are too complex to weigh up.  So I can't be sure whether there will be an effect on Stinky at all.

As there is an abundance of snow around I've now taken to lobbing snow balls at the pigeons.  I sit in my room and see the blighters as the come into land.  A bit like 744 squadron.  "OK lads, approaching roosting site, undercarriage down and ready yourself for another warm night in fat man's roof."  Shortly after this I run downstairs, find boots, do up laces, zip up cardy, put on hat, rush to back door, unlock, close grab bend down for ammunition, snow ball complete and lob.  Not quiet as quickly as 744 squadron but it seems effective.  I went out for the second time today and they must of recognised me because they flew off before I had a chance to make my snow ball.  It's a pity those icicles which are beginning to hang down didn't form in reverse then they'd get a cold sharp pain up their arses before they had a chance to land on my roof.  Bloody things.

Mind Sparkling Eye's cat also has a fear of going out in the garden in the snow.  The purchase of a litter tray has stopped him from pissing round the house.  He feels much more at ease.  It's like cats just don't like the inconvenience of being cold, fur coat or not, they just don't like it.  Now were cats Polar Bears they'd have no problem with it.  Of course the living arrangements for cats is a lot easier than Polar bears, just thinking of their shear size.  But saying this, having a Polar bear who chases pigeons would be a plus.  Providing it doesn't get stuck on the roof and be scared of getting down.   Oh dear, if it's not one thing it's another you have to think about. 

Snow today and Sparkles next week

Well the snow has come for a second time.  Sparkles had texted me yesterday to say she was worried about my being able to travel up North.  I assured her at the time there was no problem as the roads were clear and the train was a diesel so would plough through anything.  Then watching the weather report this morning as well as listening to the radio and finding three airports around London had closed I began to think this could be a sign of something.  The weatherman said it would snow at 10:00 a.m. but it didn't really start until an hour later. With all their technological advancements it seems the snow comes when it's ready to and not when anyone else tells it to.

I stood at the kitchen window looking out on the postage stamp garden.  Slowly the snow fell doing it's best to resist gravity, like gravity meant the inevitability of it's own sludgy death.  I'm sure all snow flakes feel this way, then they fall ontop of each other and bed up in their own company, probably telling stories of what it was like falling from their cloud, or how the wind bustled them about.  Or even the horror of almost becoming hail.  Yes hail! Snow's uncouth second cousin who just likes to throw it's weight about the more force the better, and didn't care about the fall from clouds because life for hail is about making as big a dent as possible.  I could see these conversations taking place, but in the midst of them the one other thing I noticed was how quite the world had become.  I could hear no birds tweeting.  The rail track isn't too far away and occasionally a train could be heard.  But not this morning.  There wasn't even much of a wind.  Just a stillness as the flakes gently fell.  Their tongues didn't scream either, they were now enjoying the last few feet of their ride down.  If only humans could fall from the sky so gracefully.  Then we wouldn't be humans, we'd be snow flakes instead.

So over the next few days I'll be checking out the weather forecast some more.  Paying closer attention to the train services.  Thinking about the warmest clothes I own and most importantly thinking how I can't wait to see Sparkles and the gang again.  Fingers crossed.  All I have to do now is be prepared. 

See you soon Sparkles.

Wine at lunch and finding ice grips

It may be an error to drink wine at lunch time before you've eaten.  This I learnt today.  A group of us arranged to have a bite in a Chinese.  Not a Chinese bite which I'm sure would be painful rather than anything else.  I sat down and seeing as it was a semi Chrimbo event ordered a glass of red wine.  This was before I'd even began to eat anything.  The food took time to be prepared and I had to wait for my dish last of all, so by this time I had now finished my glass of wine.  It is so nice to be slightly intoxicated, relaxing and for some reason with the relaxation a happiness descends.  So I then ordered a second glass.  I did think about this first, the thought was along the lines of I'm quite chilled so a second glass will make me even more chilled and more happy.  However, I had to return back to the Fish Factory to do a bit of chopping up things.  Well, when I eventually got back to the Factory, I was so happy and relaxed I found it very difficult to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon.  Papers were put in front of me which I had to sign off, which I did without a great deal of checking what I was signing.  I could of signed off my organs to a third world country and the surgeons would of been waiting for me to walk out the door so they could claim them.  This didn't happen, I'm still in one piece, unless they were poor map readers on where to go.  Needless to say, I got out of the Fish Factory early, it just all seemed like too much work.  Next time I'll try and take an afternoon off on such an event, but of course it is always better with company than on your Jack Jones.

Yesterday it was cold.  There was a thick layer of frost on cars and this morning when I left it didn't appear so cold.  Yet I feel it's one of those situations where appearances are deceiving.  We've been told by the weatherman or weatherwoman, whoever catches your fancy, it will get very chilly by Thursday.  So this is something else to look forward to.  In the meantime I keep checking out Amazon and various other sites for ice grips which attache to the bottom of your shoes.  They have either studs, springs or spikes and allow you to walk with more safety on ice.  They are in a variety of makes and a variety of prices.  I even found on one web site how to make your own with pieces of metal which were cut and shaped, then you had to find straps from somewhere to attach them to your shoes.  They look very useful and may even be life savers, depending how you fall and how big your arse is.  Mind, falling on your bum can be painful as well.  This is something snowmen just don't have to worry about, they just stand still with their funny looking carrot noses and silently laugh.  Until they melt of course.  I suppose if I can't get hold of some ice grips I could always get an ice pick, if there are no ice picks maybe a hammer.  Or never go out.

I expect though the worst situation to be in would be both drunk and without ice grips.  Well at least I'd have a smile on my face and not worry about a bruised bum.

The wrong seat, an inexperienced dentist and the wrong address

Yesterday wasn't a brilliant day for me.  Things which should of happened didn't happen so I got annoyed  even bordering on the annoyed plus some.  Firstly, was a meeting for the Fish Factory in London.  The meeting place was given to me weeks before hand.  There was a lovely little map as well.  I gave myself sufficient time to travel, followed the map and found the place.  It had an odd street number of 15 3/4 Street.  Rightly enough when I found the building above the door in big numbers was 15 3/4 Street.  O.K. I thought to myself and entered.  A pass key card was given to me at the reception and no door would open without this thing being waved at it first.  I found the room.  It was a long stretched one with about 30-40 seats at the long stretched table.  And I was nearly late with ten minutes to spare.  I didn't recognise any of the delegates, but squeezed myself past the seats and then noticed a spare seat next to an individual.  I then recognised the individual.  An old boss who would be like a dose of poison to dying Cleopatra, a venomous viper, an individual who I'd say shouldn't be the boss of a dog turd let alone a group of people.  So I sat down in the spare seat next to them.  I was good.  Very good.  The inner turmoil to recoil from this individual with garlic and cross was held in check, neither did I place my hands round their neck and begin squeezing, squeezing and chuckling with a crazy laugh, I know it would of been so much fun.  But I didn't.  Too many witnesses.  Spending the next 40 years in jail, although with today's sentencing guidelines I'd probably get away with 10 or less.  Not to mention a medal of honour.  Nope.  I kept my cool and stayed civil.  If I'd of known though, I would of eaten the worst curry I could the night before.  Vengeance by natural gases might of been a small recompense.  Another day oh evil one, thy cards will be marked, let this karma bestow itself on you.

I've got a niggling tooth somewhere.  I know it's the lower jaw and on the right hand side.  While eating toast with cracked black pepper a hard bit of pepper got in the recess.  It became uncomfortable.  Resulting in my now tending to eat on the left hand side.  A bit like pass the dutchy on the left hand side, tooth wise so to say.   I rang the dentist expecting to wait a full two weeks to see my man.  It ended up only being two days.  Further it wasn't my man it was an inexperienced little girl who had a bodged up badge attached to her lapel indicating she was a Dr.  Hmmm I wondered.  Young I thought as she removed her bib and put a Farleys rusk to one side.  I sat in the chair and she had a look in my mouth.  She couldn't see anything wrong as she poked about in an uncouth way.  She then said she would bang my teeth with an implement and I was to say if it hurt at all.  Out came a mallet and a chisel as she tapped away.  "Nope" I said while pieces of chipped tooth flew up in the air.  I pointed to the area of the offending molar.  She looked even closer.  An X-ray was taken, an old type one with film, they had tried this new digital one but the bit which goes in the mouth was too big for my pallet.  I just can't open as wide as some people.  Whereas Rock Chick can open really wide, she's got a big mouth in this sense, I seen it.  She showed me once how wide she could open it.  I nearly fell down the cavity.  Besides this she is a lovely princess.  Anyway the inexperienced dentist looked at the X-ray and advised nothing was unusual.  I left the dentist poking a finger in my mouth and now with the very real feeling come Chrimbo day as I tuck into turkey the nasty little thing is going to crack and I'll be in pain for the following two, three maybe four weeks.  Because I'll next book my appointment and ask not the girl who's just out of diapers please.

Later the same day I was due to go off to a Chrimbo party arranged by someone at the Fish Factory.  I looked at the card with the address and thought I knew where it was.  The word "thought" is important here.  I went along to a club like place.  The card said "This Place Sports and Social Club" so I went along to an area I thought I knew called "This Place" then I entered a building called "This Place Working Men's Club" and was told it was not This Place.  Hmmm.  I had to walk up a hill which was going to take twenty minutes.  I went to the hill and passed the "This Place" pub.  Half way up the hill I had another look at the card again.  There was no telephone number on it.  I noticed the post code was not for the "This Place" area.  It seemed odd to say the least.  I walked back down the hill got a bus home.  Logged onto the Internet and then did a Google search.  I found the "This Place Sports and Social Club" but the address of "This Place" happened not to be in the area of "This Place."  In addition checking at ground level as I went through the google images I could not see where the club was adequately or the road up to the club.  I now realised I had been wearing this set of trousers a long time and they had began to get uncomfortable chaffing my inner thighs.  I had a minor headache, I was now over two and a half hours late, even though I had started out late, and was now getting pissed off.  So I decided the venue "This Place Sports and Social Club" was some pain in the arse place to actually get to after I'd already made the effort, and even though it was semi local I was fed up.  I'd spent twelve quid on the ticket to.  The club was describing itself as being in "This Place" but by all standards it was not, it was as far as I was concerned a product worthy of being so poorly described as being against the Trade Descriptions Act.  Sod it.  So in a half mood, I didn't go.  Put on a DVD had three chocolate covered biscuits, a big mug of tea and munched away doing my best to enjoy the DVD and put out of my head all the annoyances which had bestowed their selves on me this day.

It's Saturday now, so I'm sure to find something else to piss me off.

Wool mix trousers are worth avoiding

In the Fish Factory the heating rises up from the floor.  When the building was constructed the fad was floor heating.  Electrical elements were built into the concrete.  A thermostat is adjusted on one side of the room, however in some parts of the room the elements have failed, in others they work perfectly.  The floor under my feet works too perfectly and it ends up with my feet being roasted if the temperature isn't set at just the right level.  Those people who sit near windows however can sometimes get cold as even the smallest of cracks lets in the chilly air.  Today this heating caused some irritation.  Irritation to my legs.

There reason for this was I had been out and bought a new pair of trousers, which have a wool mix blend in the fabric.  I had already thrown a pair of trousers away with a wool based fabric and today I re learnt why.  Saying this the trousers look very nice, except for one, thing they make me itch.  At first I tried to ignore how my legs felt.  There was no doubt in my mind it was a combination of floor heating and wool mixed trousers.  Then I just could not help myself, I began to scratch.  Awwwe, what a relief it was as well.  The thing was I just could not stop myself from scratching my legs and letting out the occasional happy sigh.  Using the end of a biro seemed to be quite effective as well.  I became aware I might of looked a bit odd.  Especially as I was scratching and rubbing my legs so much.  Itch, Itch, Itch, scratch, scratch, scratch, awwwwwwe.  I just hope nobody thought I was doing anything else. 

Moto: avoid wool mix trousers at any cost.

Wrapping presents and thinking of yesterday

I was stood at the kitchen table doing yet another stint of Chrimbo present wrapping, when the start of a wonderful Chrimbo headache began.  You know it's a Chrimbo one because there's a taste of Turkey in the air and the feeling of when-will-this-ever-end.  I thought about my earlier years as a growing up child, yes quite a way back, then wondered how long it mus of taken for my mum and dad to wrap up the presents.  I can't actually remember any of the presents, though I'm sure clothes was a popular option amongst the toys.  I recall also waking up dead early in the morning and there was not only presents but there would be a sock at the end of the bed or somewhere.  It would be crammed full of fruit, nuts and sweets. It all added to the excitement.  Though one Chrimbo I really needed to get up and have a pee.  It was then I ran into Father Chrimbo, who looked remarkably like my annoyed Dad with a sack of gifts.  I had waited ages before going to the loo and it was unfortunate I bumped into him.  I got told off as I ran into the toilet to have a piss.  At the time though relieving myself seemed more important than the sack he was carrying.  It's amazing at the little memories which come back.  I ripped off some sellotape from the wheel and was nearly finished with the present only to forget what it was I was wrapping and who it was to.  Fortunately it wasn't completely sealed so didn't need to be unwrapped. 

For a short period today I had the company of Monster Boy, I have him some pocket money and we went up to the shops.  Where he bought two comics.  One was the Simpsons and it had a trick bubble gum toy attached.  You offered the gum and the taker would then have a plastic beetle flick out on a spring.  It was very ingenious.  He then went and offered his mum Silly Sophia and his nan Big Moma, they both let out surprised squeals and laughed, Monster Boy meanwhile laughed even louder in his infectious way.  Bart Simpson is definitely one of his heroes.  Not to mention any Marvel comic character.  It's funny how children through their actions of children can bring so much happiness.  Of course they grow up at some point and then it's a wonder how they managed to grow up so quickly.  Just as little Rock Chick grew up to beautiful young lady Rock Chick.  She still has certain character traits which were evident when little.  I suppose we all have these present at a young age and only those who see us grow up recognise them.  Holding onto laughter is in my mind one of the most important traits of all.  I considered the pretending I was a child again, trying to get back into the child like mind of yesteryear.  The notion was short lived unfortunately.  I hope Monster Boy doesn't have the same issue when he gets older.  Because then he can think of me and maybe just this thought will make him laugh.  Merry Chrimbo for tomorrow Monster Boy.

Sparkles snowed in

Sparkling has been, locked in her house for a week.  It's the white stuff.  The car has been welded to the road, icicles bigger than swords hang down from the guttering.  Some houses have had their guttering pulled down under the weight and strain it has taken.  She consequently rushes out of the front or back door in fear one might drop.  The cat is afraid to go out, of being lost in the snow and never being found, his little meow would be damped and he'd never be heard.  There has been no trace of birds.  They hid in the trees somewhere and have not even come down to have fried sausages specially made for them.  Sparkling tells me she has done nothing today, then on another day again I ring she has done nothing.  She is going crazy.  Cabin Fever is getting stronger.  The odd trek takes place to a local shop where the shelves are looking a lighter than normal and the barest essentials, alcohol and fags are getting very low.  I'm told she is getting feral.  I ask "feral?"  Yes it's her hair, it now is becoming wild.  After fourteen episodes of a TV series who's name I forget, I can tell Sparkling is having enough and needs to escape.  It doesn't matter where, she has to get out, the house has become a snow prison.  The Gay Rum has all been drunk, but Sparkling did manage a hot toddy out of it.  I wish I could make it easier, do something to whisk away the snow and ice.  Sparkles tells me if I were there she'd have me clearing up for the whole street as well as digging out the car.  Which has now been truly hemmed in by snow as Dangerous Sports Lad in his imitable way blocked in with more snow when trying to help. 

Rock Chick has gone out and for the evening and left Sparkles with the X Factor.  Rock will be chugging down wine with University girl, who will maybe tomorrow give Sparkles a lift to the Supermarket.  I can see Sparkles now if she gets there, it will be like heaven, just being out of the house, walking around the corridors of goods.  If she's lucky maybe even bumping into real human beings to talk to, to pass the time, to chit chat.  I could even see her spending some time with Santa if he isn't surrounded by kids asking for the latest toys.  Sparkles isn't on top of the weather at the moment.  Yes, it's a pun.  I go to bed and as I turn and toss searching for warmth I wrap my arms around me and wish Sparkles a good night, sweet dreams and know all is well.

Keep your spirits up honey.

Enticing the snow and a dream of bare feet

Before this white stuff began I found myself getting angry.  I just wanted something to happen rather than the wind, rain and not knowing what coat to wear.  The notion came over me to stand in the back garden late one evening, then look up to the black cold sky and shout out at the top of my voice "come on!  Bring it on!  Bloody well snow, hail, whatever you want to do, but do something!  Do your worst, I'm waiting for it!"  At this point I was going to dramatically bear my chest, ripping open my shirt in a symbolic manner, then see whether I got struck by lightening.  I didn't act on this desire, maybe it saved the neighbours from ringing up the NHS and having me carted away.  Providing in this crazy age they hadn't run out of straight jackets. I was annoyed at the weather without any doubt in my mind.  The next day it snowed.  If thoughts are powered by magic beware because this would indicate sometimes they happen.

I had a dream.  No not the same as a famous black activist.  A dream.  This must of been sometime one morning which is the usual time I have dreams and then remember them.  Though I'm sure I forget about 90 percent of most dreams.  I was looking down at my feet, it was my bare feet, no shoes or socks.  I noticed my toes and the spaces between them, there may have even been some obvious dark hairs sprouting out of them, but that didn't matter.  I was standing up and looking down.  The ground was covered in snow, not deep snow just snow, and I felt no chill.  This could just be the nature of dreams which are abstract, symbolic and so never representative of what they appear to be.  However, besides the lack of chill I had a feeling of astonishment, or wonder.  It was like this feeling was asking the question, why am I looking down at my bare feet in the snow?  I must of held this moment of wonder for a few minutes, in real life I would of been scratching my head or holding my chin, just like a great thinker normally does.  Shortly I woke up.  The question wasn't answered, I threw the bed covers to one side, crawled to the window and looked out to see snow and no change in the darkened sky and the reflected street light making everything seem brighter than it actually is.  Getting up in the cold is a pain, so my ancient body relented to the need of rising and I puzzled no more about my feet, as long as I can still see them it's all I have to worry about.


To date I have not fallen on my backside, although I have noticed how my teeth feel more sensitive. Which could be because of my old age and they are about to drop out or because the cold is effecting them.  The alternative simpler explanation is I've lost a filling.  Probably eaten it with some fried rice.  Which is another thing the cold weather does.  It just makes you want to eat hot food.  Sandwiches never hit the spot.  Neither do little jacket potatoes with barely enough content to fit on a fork.  I had one of those the other day as well.

A recent weather forecast has indicated this may continue throughout the next few weeks and respite from it all only come the start of next year.  Oh well now for some good news, only 28 days to go.

Snow man Pedro

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

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

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

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

The Cold is on its way

It's snowing heavy in Scotland.  Sparkling has told me they've had at least 8 inches of it, and still it drops from the sky.  She managed to travel down to her fish factory only to find one other person turned up.  Nobody else.  It means she will not get paid but the big fish gave her some compensation, two lovely steaks.  Hmmmm.  Whilst in London it is blooming freezing, there is no getting away from it.  I went out today and before leaving thought hard about whether I needed an extra layer of clothes.  So put one on and was glad I did.  The sun was out but fortunately no snow.  Frost was everywhere this morning as well.  It's the earliest on record such weather has hit us.  Sparkles decided it was best to just spend the rest of the day in doors.  Wrapped up and watching TV.  Dangerous Sports lad and Rock Chick were also inside, keeping warm, not daring to venture out.  I don't blame them.  Except after most of a day inside they decided to play in the garden.  Now in the of the back garden stands a snowman.  They have called it after me.  I noticed it had one of my hats on, and there in a hand was a can of Guinness.  Lovely. It will be nicely chilled by the time I get up there for Chrimbo.  Hopefully I'll even get my hat back.  Though it may be in need of a clean up.

So as the days and weeks wear on I look towards a change in the weather and finding the best thermal underwear I can.  It's a peculiarity to feel a need to be warm when it's cold outside.  It may even be an age thing, the older you get the more the cold is noticed.  If only we had our own fur coats, like polar bears.  Their fur is especially insulative.  They swim in icy seas so it has to be.  I don't know if walruses have fur, but penguins seem to surive the cold pretty well to, then they have a circulation thing going on.  Either circulatory or mini nuclear reactors in their bellies.  Best not to worry, just get to bed, curl up and then sleep deep and soundly.  Just as long as I don't dream of snowmen I'm sure it will all be O.K. in the end. 

Question Time hit by opinonated octagenarian - talking codswallop

There I am watching a very serious political programme "Question Time" which enjoys questions from the audience, when suddenly it descends into a spectacle of comedy. The question had began with whether next year's royal wedding will result in a minor economic upturn.  A member of the audience began nosily interrupting the panel as they discussed the wedding.  The individual didn't have a microphone within range of their voice, so their vocal interference sounded like a groaning mumble.  The chair of the panel David Dimbleby looked at the audience to spy who it was.  The camera turned towards the individual.  It was a elderly man, he looked like he was at least octogenarian.  He was saying the paparazzi should leave the royals alone to get on with the wedding.  It didn't seem to matter to this dithering old man a large part of the costs for a royal wedding would come from the public.  It didn't seem to matter, some the panel were laughing and some of the audience, he just continued gassing away.  At this point I felt they should of either kicked him out or changed the title of the programme, certainly to something less serious.  However, were he escorted out this would of been national news.  The programme was live at the time, and he would of had more news coverage given to his royal bigotry in the next couple of days than the content of the entire programme.  Fortunately, the annoyance was abated when there was a change in question and the over opinionated octogenarian had now shut up. 

In reality it must be exceptionally difficult for programme makers to vet the sanity of their audience especially when it is live, but this was someone who really didn't have a worthy thing to say, it was as though they were there just to interfere with the proceedings.  He hadn't been asked any question and took it upon himself to do exactly what he would of done in his own living room with the TV on.  i.e. to shout his opinion at it with or without other people present.  It would of been farcical at this point had another octogenarian from a different part of the audience shouted back at him "what a lot of old codswallop" because it bloody well was.

Everybody is entitled to an opinion on everything in life.  However, it is unnecessary for them to offload their viewpoints on the rest of us.  It's like walking down the high street and being accosted by various religious touts who want to save your soul.  Just because they believe their particular omnipotent imaginary friend is more powerful and real than the rabbit called Harvey, in the film called Harvey.  It doesn't mean you have to believe them or agree with them.  It's odd how I have never seen atheists accost people and espouse their views.  Perhaps they have got better things to do.  If they do, I'm sure to bet they are not interrupting Question Time.  Viva le Rabbit.

A day of training and motivation from a turd

The other day I went on a training course, it's what they do with middle fishes, put them on courses so they learn how to handle all the little fishes the right way.  With care usually. Gone are the days of KITA (Kick them In The Arse), as once written by a consultant Fish Monger.  On the course were all middle fishes and I happened to be the only male one there.  Which is always worrying, being in the company of too much estrogen just isn't good and you have to be careful with what you say.  Everything and anything can be picked up on and then you're in trouble.  Anyway.  The course was on coaching, trying to get the little fishes to do things and get the most out of them while doing it.  I thought it was a little bit like counselling and actually enjoyed it, the trainer seemed to think coaching was developed from a sports background.  Though I'm not sure if it did, I'll have to consult one of my books or do some searching on the Internet.  I got another day's training the end of next week.  Anyway some time during the day I received a text message from L & B man.  I thought it was a bit unusual getting a message from him and had been expecting some kind of contact from Sparkling Eyes.  So I sat there just as the next part of the lesson was to begin and opened up the message.

I had to wait a moment because it wasn't a text message as I thought, rather it was a picture text message so the picture had to be loaded.  Hmmm I watched as the image slowly refreshed from the top down, something white, ceramic looking.  It loaded.  To tell the truth I wasn't sure at first what I was looking at.  It's was a bit like one of those mystery pictures they publish in the newspaper of just part of an object and you have to guess what the object is.  Alternatively it might of been my brain just was refusing to process what I was looking at.  Then as the moment of realisation hit me I quickly covered up the image on my phone in shock, fear and amusement all at the same time.  The text underneath said "I felt a lot better after that."  The picture was a big turd in a toilet.  I could feel the tension in my chest, I had breathed in deep and held the inhale, bloody hell it was big, and had the girl sitting next to me glanced it.  Not only this, how would I reply to the text seeing one hand was grasped over the face of the phone.  Was it obvious to other people?  The paranoia and a cold swet was present.  Fortunately I had pressed the reply button in time and so didn't have to stare at the picture.  It was horrifying.  My reply involved the use of profuse language even in my silent laughter.  Fleeting the thought arose whether I should tell the group.  No.  Thank heavens my sensible gene kicked in I would of been marked forever as the man who had a picture of a turd on his phone.  I know what women are like it's one of those things they don't forget.  The next lesson would of been uncomfortable I'm sure.

Anyway, the training session went well.  We practiced something called the GROW model while coaching.  Goal, Reality, Options and Wrap up. I did actually enjoy the session.  It's like we all need a chance to chat once in a while and this was a great opportunity to get on with it.  Using this structured approach helps and guides you in the conversation which follows. To the point I began to approach a feeling of motivation.  Yes, the elusive concept of motivation, the will to do something.  But of course it must be sustained, effective, self generated and goal directed.

Only problem was the text message and picture haunted my day.  It's surprising how when you can just get settled in, something comes along and knocks you off stride.  Sparkling also text me she learnt what had happened and  L & B man had forwarded on my reply.  She was sympathetic, I'll not go into the details any more I'm trying my best to forget the picture, but I must admit I did laugh. Sometimes even shit can make you laugh. Now if you can find motivation in the picture of a turd, it's possible to find it anywhere.

A cold morning and adrenaline pens

This morning was cold, I left the house and was greeted by a mist, it stretched down the road becoming thicker in the distance and obscuring houses, lamp posts and dogs.  In fact the dogs had to check out the lampposts twice to make sure they were pissing in the right place.  It's important knowing where to piss.  I thought it was going to be cold when I got up out of bed.  I had the chilly feeling.  Fortunately I'd hit the local market and bought a couple of thermal vests just for such an occasion like this.  The only problem was, when I bought them I wasn't so sure about the size to get.  The young man who was selling them picked out a medium saying it was my size.  This morning when I put it on, I wasn't so sure.  It felt tight.  I thought to myself, blimey this must be what L & B man feels like when he puts one of his girly glamorous t-shirts on.  He's got a thing for t-shirts.  I felt like the Michellin Man and wondered if it was going to cut off the circulation to various parts of my body.  I could see my lower half withering away and becoming useless from the waist down.  When did I get so fat?  It just kind of crept up on me from nowhere.  Nevertheless the thermal vest did it's job, I was well layered when I went out and felt warm enough to get by.  The problem was once reaching the Fish Factory it had to come off.  There was no way I could endure the rest of the day chopping up fishes feeling this hot.  Another day maybe.

Sparkling has told me how she has now been given another medication to take the rest of her life.  She suffers from dry eyes.  Further the allergy quack seems to have given up on trying to diagnose what it is which makes her react.  On one occasion she had annaphalatic shock and had to be rushed to hospital.  She now has two epi pens.  These are adrenaline pens which you stab yourself with in the case of a severe allergic reaction.  If Sparkling doesn't get to use the pen on herself other people around her may have to, but if they don't use it properly and stab their own finger they could end up losing the finger.  Not losing as in lost and found, but having it amputated.

Now there's one prick you never want to experience.

Catching up with the week's politics

I have now got into a routine of catching up on the political programmes at the weekend.  Nearly finished, I'm on about hour three, or is it four?  (Newsnight, The Daily Politics, Question Time) I barely get to watch TV news during the weeks so this time is a must..  The BBC iplayer function is a political lifeline to the past week.  It's always good to see politicians bought to account, however they do practice the art of bullet dodging, bouncing off the ropes and are pretty good with smoke and mirrors.  This is not to say they are dishonest, which some may well think, they are after all human beings.  As humans we are just prone to making mistakes every once in a while.  Just as we are to the occasional insight and good judgement.  However, when it comes to running a country, which has surely got to be the most complex organizational thing in the world, it doesn't matter who you are, you're bound to get it wrong.  Especially if you fail to consult those in the know, those who work in specialised areas, like the Fish Factory. The future of fish is never going to be the same.  I'm going to have to roll up my shirt sleeves and do something different, maybe become a full time male lap dancer.  Unfortunate thing is I doubt whether I'll earn a living from it and I'd even doubt if Sparkling Eyes would give me a fiver for a dance.  How depressing.

So I've spent a few hours going over a White Paper, not to be confused with a Blue Paper, which is what happens when you leave a white paper out in the cold. Bom Bom!  It's a document published by the Government about what they intend to do in the future.  There was so little detail and so wide implications as I read I couldn't help but shake my head.  I thought someone doesn't know the head of a fish from the tail of a fish here.  They had even proposed the next fleet of boats which go out fishing no longer bother using nets yet are expected to gain bigger catches than ever before.  Further, they had decided if the boats weren't up to scratch they would now use tractors.  I scratch my head in confusion wondering how the farmers would feel about it. 

It's a bit like some recent news about a couple who had been released from pirates who had hijacked their boat.  I sat watching the interviews with them and shout out the question, why in hell did you go sailing in waters known to have pirates?  The worse part was none of the interviers asked either.  I expect the pair had read too much Peter Pan and thought Captain Hook was only a comic character.  Well they certainly found out with the loss of their liberty for 13 months.  If I asked my ten year old nephew Monster Boy whether he'd like to sail a boat in an area where there are pirates, I'm sure he wouldn't mind.  It would capture his imagination, he'd go and start drawing pictures of pirates, get out his Star Wars light sabre and dress up announcing he'll join them and become the new Long John silver.  But to ask the same question to two adults, blimey.  Where did they get educated?   Well I got a name for them if they want to know, idiots would seem to fit, but a more imaginative person would probably come up with something better.

I've about reached my maximum now, it's on the hour and I'm actually catching up with the news.  Great, the kidnapped couple are on again, right I've had enough.  Switched off.  Peace and quite.  Now I wonder if those pirates do private jobs.  I know of a river which passes a seat of government where it might be worth kidnapping some more valuable people.  Where did I put my satellite phone?

Talking to a Gay Marxist in the pub - with male pattern baldness

I got mostly drunk this evening.  Knowing Sparkles was grafting away I had two possible people to chat to while waiting at the train station.  Five minutes to kill before it came trundling in.  It was 15 minutes but I'd used up ten of those going to the Chinese for a take-away.  I waited as it gently rained, and stood under a train monitor so not to get too wet.  Phone call one, to Rock Chick. Went along the lines of "hello Rock Chick how are you" she replied "fine" I then asked how she was getting on with Dangerous Sports Lad and she laughed asking if I had spoken to Sparkles.  "No" I said, but I did get a text message.  Rock considered this to be the same as talking.  She wasn't talking to Dangerous because he refused to call for a Taxi on a night out when they were both intoxicated.  So Rock was now giving him the silent treatment.  I'm sure it won't take him long to realise he was in the wrong, to apologise and get himself put back into the normal order of things.  As males have to be.  Rock however gave the excuse she had company and couldn't chat to me any longer.  Blimey.  Only one minute and a little had passed.  Second option L & B man.  So I gives him a ring he answers "Slaggggg!, what's up?"  My reply is "hiya Fatboy,"  his abuse is short lived and he tells me how the log cabin has just had some lights fitted.  But also he tells me how I was probably standing all on my own on the platform scared of being mugged so was ringing him.  As if my making a phone call to Fatboy in Scotland would protect me were I actually being mugged.  I doubt it.  The train came and the conversation finished.  The other 4 minutes successfully filled, me and a Chinese were now heading off closer towards home.  Stinky cat and crazy Big Momma.

I enjoyed the earlier part of the evening and found myself chatting to a Gay Marxist who I'd seen in the pub before.  He had a hang up about the Catholic religion and how it didn't like him because he was gay.  I stated it didn't matter if he was gay and debated my views on religion.  For a moment he seemed to get emotional.  I think this may of been down to drinking too much and being Gay.  It might be a preconception but he was a sensitive fellow and the notion of someone not giving a toss about his sexuality seemed to overcome him.  I kept my back to the wall and advised him I was not gay.  Lucky I didn't tell L & B man about it, because he would of then had more ammunition to hit me with.  I can imagine it.  Asking if I'd pulled in one of those Gay bars in London again.  I felt sorry for Marxist man, he cried but was discrete when wiping the tears away.  I enjoyed the evening very much getting drunk on my two and a half pints and chatting to a bunch of blokes for a moment other things were forgotten.  It was only the one who was gay just the Marxist, and he was just sad and in need of company. 

I thought of Sparkles and wondered how she would of loved to have been part of the conversations taking place.  I love her and although it has only been a few days since I last seen her, my face smiles every time I think of her.  Eventually I got home, had the Chinese and sat down at last to write a little BLOG on a little bit of news I had.  I don't know why but all the taboo subjects were the ones discussed, sex, politics and religion.  Have I now got old?  Maybe.  Another subject was male pattern baldness.  Blimey, I should of had another pint then I'd of forgotten about thinning hair altogether.

Watching ghostly TV with Sparkles

Am with Sparkling watching some TV, it's one of those ghost documentary type of things.  With a half famous girl band searching various ghostly places with a presenter.  I say half because I'd never heard of them before this week.  Then a psychologist, Professor Jeffrey Beattie gives his view on the proceedings as he interprets how the girls react.  I check out google to see who this jumped up darling of ghost TV actually is, tosser I think to myself.  I can't help it, he just is.  As he interprets why one of the girls raises her hands to her cheeks.  His interpretation is to manipulate the other girls so they are scared shitless. Only thing is the Dick neglects to mention it is pitch black and what we are viewing is from infra-red camera or the such like.  Which means the other band members would of seen this body language so how could it of been manipulative?  The girls are frightened, as they are put into one situation after the other in various supposedly haunted buildings.  They hug, the scream, they cry and they add to the TV experience, wonderful.  Sparkles looks at me, with her eyes Sparkling and she trys to gauge my behaviour, to see whether the hysteria of barely post pubescent girls and their fear is effecting me.  It's not.  Perhaps the rum and coke is helping. 

I recall reading an important book in psychological terms.  Called "The Crowd" by a bloke called Le Bon.  Yep you guessed it, he was French.  But lets not hold this against him.  In this he recognises a theme called Contagion.  It's where a group (crowd) pass a feeling or thought amongst them quickly.  Hence contagious or contagion in his terms.  They all feel or think the same thing.  Which reminds me of the comic attribute of timing where just the right amount of time is given to the audience to take in the punch line and laugh.  Anyway, putting it in simple and easy terms the fear of ghost hunting has already engaged the emotion and they don't even need leading suggestion from the presenter, because they are now being played. Played on their very own girlie fears.  Fears of some paranormal experience, and the parasympathetic (human) response kicks in (fight or flight).  There is at this point no logical mind working, it is all emotions, fed from one person to the next.  They rather show fear, hug, cry and jump, than try and wonder exactly what is going on.  The convenience of darkened rooms would ensure no other third party is seen throwing objects or touching shoulders.  Sparkles laughs as she watches.  The presenter screws up her face and flashes a laugh as she shoulds out questions to the girls.  Which they obediently ask the unknown ghostly apparition. A chill creeps up then down my spine.  Shit.  It's only TV.

Sparkles looks on transfixed as the program carrys on.  I see Dick Professor Nutty Beattie again.  What is it which makes me want to smack his interpretations in the face.  Who the hell is this prat?   He's definitely sold out to be on TV and increase his own bank balance.  The half famous girl band act in only the way a young girl band is going to act.  Fecking hysterically, get a grip folks. 

The rum and coke go down nicely.  I sent a picture of my rum bottle to L & B man.  I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it.  I must get up early tomorrow, the electrician is popping round.  Some wires will need to be sorted under the floor boards.  Great.  As long as he doesn't act like a girlie and talk about spirits vying for his attention.  As long as those spirits are 45 per cent proof I got no problem with it.

Jerk Chicken and deprived of Kylie

The day has been busy, even though Sparkles had to hit the Fish Factory.  I made a personal list of things to do.  These were clearing up leaves in the garden, rummaging back up in the attic preparing for the electrician's re wire and lastly an inspiration again from Jamie Oliver's 30 minute meals. I don't know what it is about Jamie but he does inspire me to actually get into the kitchen.  To do something, chop veggies, mix up concoctions of spices, fry, bake, and taste.  Of course it always goes a little more smoothly with a little drink.  Seeing as today's menu was Jerk Chicken involving a few table spoons of rum my tipple for the evening has been rum and coke.  I must admit, after the first one I started to get chilled.  I needed it.  On the walk back from the local over-large-chain-superstore one of the plastic bags broke and I lost a bottle of wine.  Then when I started cooking it arose I'd lost the honey and the garlic.  Great.  Sparkling was my saviour, she whisked me out in the car to search for more honey.  Unfortunately I only realised I'd lost the garlic on the next preparation run.  Sparkles went to the local shops and got a surrogate.  I wasn't happy but Sparkles said "get over it" so of course I got over it.  Otherwise I'd be in trouble.  I'll return to this point.  Sparkles also noted the rum I had used was had "Gay" in the title.  Bloody great.  I'm sure L & B man will be told and I'll get some kind of response from him. 

It was amazing.  I actually made something which tasted good and tasted like it wasn't me who made it.  Like a real chef had made it.  Although again the 30 minutes turned out to be more like 3 hours, especially with the excursions to get those important ingredients I'd somehow lost.  Like they had evaporated into some Bermuda Triangle of lost food.  I could of made little pictures of garlic or honey and written award of $5 underneath, but doubt if there had been any reply.  Yep the Jerk chicken was goooood.  So was the rum and coke.

Sparkles likes to glance her eye over my BLOGs she's probably me biggest fan, although she hasn't listed herself as a follower.  No I just get someone from some eastern block country who's checked me out said they follow me and probably in all intentions and purpose just wanted to change web page.  Well, Sparkles likes to watch X factor and as I had written a somewhat damning BLOG she wasn't happy with it.  Not happy at all.  So this evening as I sat watching X factor, forced because I didn't have the button for the TV and if I had it would of been wrestled off me.  It began.  I sat watching, then was told to "shut up" because I was talking too much.  So I did.  But from nowhere came Kylie Minogue, I couldn't believe it.  On X factor!!!  But I didn't have the TV control.  It was at this point Sparkles decided it was time to teach me a lesson.  So the channel changed.  Then no matter how much I begged for Kylie, Sparkles would not change the channel.  I gave up.  But to taunt me more she then went and switched to X factor.  Kylie!!!  Great.  I looked up, Sparkles saw me and changed the channel again.

Memo: Sparkles believes in Karma.  This evening my Karma come round and bit me in the arse.  Lost honey, garlic and deprived of Kylie. As for the cat well, he's another story.