Too much sugar and a little Nietzsche

Back at the Fish Factory, the world revolves again on another chaotic circuit of too many Fish and not enough sharpened utensils to deal with them.  We'll soon be up to our eyeballs in the little blighters.  As if this was the only thing I had to put up with, as it turned out to be another sleepless night with Big Momma up and down to the loo tinkle tinkle.  Her diabetes kicking in.  There was an empty jar of marmalade in the washing up bowl so this was a clue.  She doesn't understand sugar should now be off the menu and is acting like other diabetics I have encountered, this totals five.  It's like the illness of the millennium will be diabetes, who fashionably has it and who fashionably doesn't have it.  It's beyond ironic when on this morning's news I heard how there is just about enough food at this time to feed the population of the planet, with some groups of people spending up to 80% of their income on food and still suffering from starvation.  There has got to be something wrong.  I sure bet those unfortunate persons don't suffer from diabetes.   What they'd do for a sugar lump?  It would be funny if it weren't so tragic.

I got back early from the Fish Factory on account of feeling very much a zombie, in fact there were probably zombies out there who felt better than me, and lay down on my bed.  Two hours later I felt a little better.  The head feeling spaced out thing had in most part been satisfied.  But a wave does hit me now and again, then it washes over my brow, I shake off the foam and re open my eyes.  I sure hope I can get some sleep tonight.

Here's a quote I cam across yesterday but didn't want to add it to the BLOG as Mr Aristotle got in the way and afterall there is too much of a good thing.  It's by a German bloke who a little like Aristotle did a lot of thinking, I was surprised when I did a google search to find he said some other familar things which can be found in everyday language. Here it's about opinion, the sentiment is thought provoking..


“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.” - Friedrich Nietzsche.

I like this.  It speaks for itsel and suggests one individual has the forsight to understand it's not worth carrying on a discussion or arguement.when there are differences of opinion and neither party are going to convince one or the other of being right or wrong.  It's the kind of thing you might come out with when totally exhausted and rather than using the "I can't be bothered" ubiquitous moron phrase Nietzshe gives it some style.  Also it could suggest there has been a failing from one of the parties involved.  Or from both.  Especially if they felt they had not been heard.

I wonder if there were many fat people around in Nietzsche's day?  I'm sure there would of been quite a few people with their opinion on it.

Habits

Yesterday I went to the gym.  It being a Sunday and late morning meant there was hardly anyone about.   I like it this way.  When there's no queuing up to use the machines and no need to worry how fat I look if I happen to see myself in the mirror.  And I did, and I do, look fat.  But while there I hit the running machine and even managed to do a straight 15 minutes jog without stopping in between walking stints.  I observed my breathing wasn't too bad, which is a good sign.  Fat or not, being able to breath is important.  Catching your breath can limit the amount of time you can exercise.  Like being weak and unable to lift weights.  My knee began to twinge later on so I'll have to watch it.  Sometimes though it is just a matter of persistence and taking it easy.  Not overdoing anything.  Getting into the habit is important.  Which reminds me of a quote I come across the other day.  Attributed to Aristotle

"We are what we repeatedly do, excellence is therefore not an act, it's a habit."

Quite an interesting thing to say when you think about it.  About striving to do the best you can but more than this to make it the very best possible.  It obviously takes a lot of effort and attention to do.  At the moment I'm half way fat so, if I were to be excellent at it, I'd be really fat.  Though I don't think this is included in the measure of the quote.

I went and looked at bicycles this afternoon.  Again thinking about increasing the amount of exercise I do.  A little disappointed I walked out of the shop, just not being able to make up my mind or be inspired by anything I saw there.  On the way back home I had a pint in a pub and enjoyed the sunshine.  It chilled me and just the one pint seemed to have a mildly intoxicating effect.  Maybe it was yesterday's exercise.  I don't think I'll put too much weight on it.  After all there is too much weight which goes on the machine.

Now tomorrow to start an excellent habit.

What makes me happy and chilled

There really is never enough time in the day to do all the things which have to be done.  This I've learnt at the Fish Factory, it just don't stop.  But I do get a chance to breath every now and again. Otherwise I'd be turning blue, or fainting all over the place. Except for today.  Today I can categorically say I have not worried as much as I normally would.  This is because tomorrow I get to see Sparkling Eyes.  A sleep, followed by a short train ride, followed by a short underground hop, followed by a much longer train ride and then I'll be there, on the doorstep, moi.  Knowing I am just about to get away from it all and see Sparkling is like being given a dozen tranquilizes, I've had the feeling that nothing was actually going to bother me.  When one of the little fishes kept nipping at my heals, I just let it go coz there was nothing more I was going to do and certainly not by the end of the day.  It was almost like the little fish really just didn't get it.  What pond I wondered were they swimming in coz it certainly wasn't the one I was in, coz I'd know, this one was calm and easy going and not giving a second thought.  Yesterday there was a fire alarm at the Fish Factory and precious time was lost standing outside in the beautiful sunny weather.  Chatting rather than doing work.  This fortunate break in the afternoon was also very relaxing.  So when I returned back to the Factory I just didn't have any more zing left to get on with what had to be done.  It's like I had began calming down. 

This evening I checked out FaceBook and Sparkling had added a comment, it seemed she had a little tizzy.  Rock Chick had responded with a comment about tidying up the house.  Oh I thought.  I'm forewarned now, don't drop any crumbs, leave shoes around or be untidy otherwise I'll be in trouble.  But I don't think it would worry me too much if I did get into trouble, because it would mean I am in Sparkling's company and I am not in her company every day.  I could hear her curse at me, huff at me and blow my house down.  I'm sure it won't be as bad as that but she can definitely huff when she wants to, and let me say every huff is lovely.  lol.  OK I'm sucking up, just in case she gets to read this.  No. But, I'd be in a state of happiness which is what would matter more than anything.

Anyway talking about being chilled out and not letting things get under my skin.  I watched a vid on youtube last night as well.  It was a sketch from a man who was in an airplane crash.  It was the plane which crashed into the Hudson River.  Everyone survived it.  But at the time this man had three realisations which hit him and he now carried around with him every day of his life.  One was how short life is, and how he had kept putting off things.  It made him realise to do those things he had kept leaving and waiting.  Another was how he had wasted a lot of time and had been negative.  His his ego got in the way of things.  In the way of his relationships with people around him. Subsequenly he calmed down and said since the accident he hadn't had a single arguement with his wife, and just as importantly he became an even better father to his child.  Lastly, he said he had no longer became afraid of dying, it was as though everyday had been a preparation for it and it wasn't so bad after all.  I think what he learnt was actually how to live his life, his life, his experience and now how much more he treasured those around him.  I think this says, of all the things in our lives it is other people around us which make us happiest and he had found this out and also learnt the role he played.  In all it sounds like a self enlightening experience.

I wonder what thoughts I'd think if I had a near death experience.  Better make sure I tidy up after me then, hadn't I?

13 is a lucky number

There is superstition about the number 13.  People think it is unlucky, in some places it is considered so unlucky they do not have a 13th floor, row of seats on a plane or go into work on Friday 13th.  But what are the values of a 13 which make it lucky in an unfashionable way?  The big one which comes to mind is a "baker's dozen" which is 13.  I'd rather have a baker's dozen than just 12 any day and especially if this number were the winning last number on a lottery ticket. I mean, it makes sense, if everyone dislikes the number 13 and 13 is a number which comes up in a lottery then all those who didn't pick because of superstition would be pretty stupid.  The Friday just gone was Friday the 13th.  It did not stop me from going into the Fish Factory.  In fact I had a dental appointment in the morning of Friday the 13th.  Now if the opportunity of lady luck to abandon me was going to take place it would of been at the dentist of all places.  All was fine.  It went as smooth as any other check up I've had with no problems. The number 13 is considered lucky in by Sikhs as 13 in Punjabi means "yours" as in to give to their god.  Whilst in Judaism the age 13 represents the time of manhood and Bar Mitzah.  Whilst in Italy 13 again is considered lucky although I could not find the reason why.  Note in a pack of cards there are 13 to each suit, but it doesn't stop people playing with cards.

In a different example, what of all babies which are born on the 13th?  Does it mean these babies should have their entire lives blighted by the superstition of others?  That they should be branded?  Of course not.  For sense actually takes over and I am sure any expectant mother who had a baby on Friday the 13th would love that baby just as much as a mother who had one the day before.  In math, 13 is both and odd number and a prime number so it is rare and beautiful.

So the conjecture for today is: 13 were it not for superstition the number 13 would just be an integer, no different from any other integer.  On all accounts superstition in this case has no logical basis, for how many people who are seriously superstitious have had consistently bad luck ever Friday the 13th?  None.  It's not possible, unless they are stupid enough to go out and find it.  So 13 is just like any other number.  Therefore just as lucky as well.

What's Insomnia? - let me sleep on it

Recently I seem to be suffering from insomnia.  But I don't think it is entirely my own fault, it's with the help of outside forces.  And I'm not talking about anything supernatural.  There is of course the usual things, but then there is the unusual things.  The result though is the same, no matter what it is, what I do I end up waking up some time in the middle of the morning or night and staying awake.  It is getting irritating to say the least. Here's a little list.

Stress at work
Big Momma getting up 10 times a night to have a tinkle (she's diabetic).
Not exercising enough so not physically exhausted.
An over active mind - lay down and then find it runs faster than a cheetah after a deer.
Pigeons in the roof who like to get up at first light - 4 a.m. to 5 a.m. ish.
Morning sunshine so hard it bounces of the walls under the curtains and it feels like an electric arc light is on.
Foxes who like to scream in the middle of the morning - they sound like they are in pain.
Being too hot in bed - the weather has really warmed up and the house gets hot.
Cat or cats.
House being generally noise conductive rather than dampening i.e. Big Moma gets up and everything heard.
Having good hearing
Drinking coffee or tea too late at night so effectively having a cafine hit.
High blood pressure - I am sure I have tinitus it's like hearing an old TV starting up all the time but I am learning to treat it as a friend.
Not getting enough sleep, leading to trying too hard to sleep leading to not getting sleep.

So there you have it a few of the little things which contrive to prevent me from getting a good nights sleep.  Sometimes I'll end up with maybe 4 hours.  Then I am a walking zombie the rest of the day.  Then nobody can get an enthusiastic reaction out of me because how can you be enthusiastic when you're grumpy, tired and ready to kill at the drop of a hat?  It's not possible.  Certainly not when you have been fighting it for nights on end.  So it must all mount up somewhere.  All the lost sleep.  Someone is steeling it in the night.   I'm also afraid it may end up hallucinations, I'll see things floating about me which shouldn't be there.  Like bright green rabbits with fangs, or find I am walking awake and sleeping.  Where the dream world encroaches on the awake world and then the most difficult thing of all will be trying to work out which one is real and how to react correctly.  If I'm asked a question by a Pooka (large invisible white rabbit - as in the film Harvey) will I end up talking to it, replying and then have other people react around me as if I am going crazy.  Well they most likely will.  I'll then be carted off with a white jacket wrapped around me to a nicely padded room.  Where hopefully it will be quiet.  If it is quiet then I'll eventually get some sleep.

So it seems there is no choice for the insomniac.  You have to quitely start losing your marbles, bit by bit, then hopefully some carring sympathetic doctor can have you sectioned away where you get a couple of months being given back all the sleep you'd lost in the first place, curtisy of a relaxed, quiet, fox free, cat free, Big Momma free, non sound conductive and dimley lit environment.

Someone section me, please.

I just learnt to use a toaster

This may seem odd, but I think I have only just learnt how to use an electric toaster.  Not use it as in to turn in on, but to actually toast the whole slice of bread.  For years I have been dropping bread into the slot vertically.  Then I have though why was it the toast engineers never made a toaster big enough for the bread?  The only conclusion I came to was they were using small slices of bread, a bit like the small loafs available to people on a diet.  Which I haven't been on by the way.  Then about a week ago for some unknown reason I dropped the bread into the toaster horizontally, and to my amazement it still fitted the slot.  Pushed the handle down and waited for it to cook. So after a minute or two, hey presto.  Viola.  The entire slice, or rather slices of toast were toasted.  Being a little stupid it has taken me a long time to work out.  All those years I have been eating toast with the top part not quite browned.  Someitmes I'd turn the bread upside down half way through just so there would be more part toasted bread.  Other times I would resort to using the toaster on the gas stove, which takes a lot longer.  I always think they engineers of the gas stove purposesfully made it so the flame was so far away it would use more gas to do the toast than needed as well.  In these moments of impatience I'd resort to a little trick of holding the bread closer to the flame by lifting the pan up.  It may have shaved a minute or so of the time, but whatever it did the whole slice was uniformly toasted.  Unlike the electric toaster.  So now I have eventaully gained my black belt in toast making.  Well they say it does take years to get a black belt.  If you don't watch it though you can end up with black toast and that certainly isn't a nice thing to have.

Lists to do things

Sometimes there is a state of mind in which to be when about to do something.  I wrote a list.  Which is always a good place to start but it doesn't mean I'll get around to the things on the list.  One was to book a dental appointment which is very much a state of mind thing, where I need at least a week to prepare myself.  Practice opening my mouth as wide as I can and then leaving it open for as long as I can.  The other item was to get my hair cut.  Unfortunately this seems to have been more down to the availability of the hairdresser than being in the right frame of preparation.  The last two weeks has seen the Easter holidays so each hair dressers has been full of sprogs.  Sometimes mothers with sprogs in tow.  There may only be one of them getting a hair cut but for some reason the whole family has to sit there.  Then the siblings have to run amok.  They have energy and it needs to be used up, sitting in a shop just doesn't do it. So walking through the door of a hairdressers on days like this requires being prepared for a headache.  Ear plugs, paracetamol and any other over the counter drugs which help.  I do wonder whether I was as bad as those sprogs at their age. No can't be.  Seeing as it was so long ago I really can't tell.  I just hope I wasn't, because today's sprogs are a good reason not to propagate the human race. So my hair is getting longer not for lack of mental want to get it cut but out of personal sanity.  Although my list only has two items they are important items, well I don't want to overload myself.

This morning as I had just began my journey to the Fish Factory, I saw an odd sight.  There was a cat on a garage roof, crouched down as though it were about to pounce on something, but I couldn't see what it was.  And there was a magpie lunging in at the cat and screeching loud.  It made the typical magpie warning sound,  much little like a very creaky door.  This magpie was semi hovering and swooping on the cat, getting close but not too close.  Making enough noise so every other creature knew the cat was there.  I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.  Just about to start filming when the cat sat up having given up on it's ready to pounce pose.  It was completely ignoring the flapping noise making magpie, almost to the point it make me wonder if the cat had decided the bird didn't exist.  The cat saw me and maybe the magpie saw me because they both seemed to stop.  Their list of things to do was obviously a bit different from my own.  Magpie's, harass a cat even if it could kill you, cat's stalk and prey on some smaller unsuspecting animal.

There I was thinking my cat Stinky had mental health issues.

Stinky

I have a belief that Stinky our cat has some personality defect, or simply is just fruit and nuts.  He has a bad habit now of sitting his furry arse down and just pissing around the house.  There are little hot spots or rather wet spots where he does this.  So at every opportunity I get I throw him out in the garden.  Now the little bugger must be saving his piss up because 9 out of 10 times he will plonk his backside on some dirt and let rip.  So why he does this I don't know.  I do know he also has a phobia about going out of the house so it makes things worse.  He will not of his own accord meow at the door to go out.  He'll meow like a banshee to get in, but not to go out.  He is very particular about his dirt tray as well.  If it is even the smallest bit soiled he'll not use it a second time.  It is like a one use only throw away option. So it's not too difficult to come to the conclusion he has some kind of anxiety issues.  In the meantime if stroking, loving and caring for him doesn't help I'll have to ask him whether he would like to take up a different occupation other than that of cat.  Like fur coat.  No.  I jest.  I'd never do it.  But I can't help it if he pushes the buttons.  For now I'm sure he has pissed somewhere else and I'll not say where it is but it was in another room which wasn't the toilet.  So watch out Stinky, whether you are suffering from a mental illness or potty training you are now officially getting on my tits.

Afternoon naps

Over the last four days I have been getting in an afternoon doze.  Just laying down for an hour, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.  It has done the world of good.  I'm beginning to feel sane, real, alive.  Sleep is a wonderful thing, when the body doesn't get enough it fights back and boy do you know it.  Thing is I'm back at the Fish Factory today.  I can hardly see dropping off to sleep for an hour while people around me carry on with their de scaling will be allowable.  Damn.  It'll hardly be an example as a middle fish to the little fish.  I'm going to need match sticks to prop open my eyelids and do the best I can not to let my eyes roll back.

Come on day, lets see what you got.

Symptoms of falling to pieces

The last few days I think I been falling to pieces.  An arm here, a foot there.  Just dropping off all over the place.  Its littered with bits of me.  I no longer look the whole man I used to be, on account of the bits which have fallen off.  I have just began to realise it this evening, but otherwise it was difficult to tell.  It's like standing in crap.  When trodden in there isn't an immediate smell, it takes a moment or two as you are walking along to realise there is something untoward following you.  A stink.  At this point you understand where it has come from.  Unless you just happen to have a bad case of the runs and didn't run quick enough to the closest loo.  I recall a story L & B man told me about when he got caught for speeding his car.  He desperately needed to relieve his bowels.  Not vowels, bowels.  He was lucky he didn't crap himself while he was being given a ticket.  Though I must admit the story was amusing, it was the way he told it.  I now recognise the signs.  I have not been completely on form.  On account of having fewer body parts, they're scattered about the house.  I don't know if it was the royal shedding, or whether it was the prospect of having a nice long weekend, which continues with tomorrow as well.  My body has just shut down.  There has been no get up and go but more rather of lets sit down not move or do a thing and slob out.  Stuffy nose, loss of motivation, sneezing.  Unless it's hay fever, which I have never had.  It might be.  Who knows.  I don't.  So I've been falling apart, my body has been fighting back and saying it has had enough and wants to rest.  Do nothing.  My mind probably joined in at some point as well, but as with the standing in crap it's taken a day or two to realise it.

Tomorrow I'll try and pick up some of the pieces, motivation prevailing I hope.  Check out the corner shop for some body superglue.  Then put myself back together, in one piece.  All will be fine then.  Unless I forget my left from my right, or what direction it is best to screw my head on.  It's clockwise, I'm sure it is. OK one more day of holiday left.  I can do it.  As the saying goes "pull yourself together man," damn, better hope all the bits are there otherwise that saying might have to be changed.

Not everyone is bothered about a Royal Shedding.

Apparently yesterday in Glasgow there was a big Face Book arranged party by the River Kelvin.  So many people turned up the riot police had to come along as well to join the fun. There's vids on YouTube.  If I had only known, I'm sure Sparkling would of considered turning up.  The people were there for one thing, to avoid the Shedding and enjoy life without blue blood.  Wonderful.  In Australia there was planned a comedy take off program to run simultaneously as the Shedding as well.  The Aussies were going to really take the piss out of the whole thing.  Sounds like a great idea.  But for some undisclosed reason it was cancelled at the last moment.  Odd I thought they had managed to escape the monarchy completely and could do their own thing.  Makes you wonder what it might of been like had your ancestors been shipped over there for some nasty deed, like stealing a loaf of bread.

It is good to know there is some sense in the world although stifled by unknown powers to be.  Shame.

A perspective on Face Book games - they're not real people

Online games are addictive.  Face book (FB) has many online games and there always seems to be a social influence in them.  Where you are supposed to pull along friends on FB to join in, you then help each other out by trading imaginary goods or services.  Then there are of course those people who are not actual friends at all, who you have never met in your life, but because you like games you then find they have to become an FB friend in order to play the game more effectively.  These are people who you don't know from Adam.  They are all over the world, but the thing is you haven't sat down with them and had a coffee, pint or glass of wine.  They are there for the reason because they like the game.  Although relatively speaking everyone does like to be sociable, to some degree.  Even the hermits, and I tend to be one of these.  To tell the truth I'd rather not add such individuals to my FB account but am being forced by FB to do so.  Some of these people take their gaming experience very seriously.  It is as though for them FB and the game becomes a surrogate device for something missing in their life.  I know, I'll hold my hands up to it.  If I were able to turn over in bed this morning and give Sparkling a hug or just have the physical contact she was there it might of calmed my 3:28 a.m. sudden insomnia.  She wasn't so my insomnia was allowed to run it's course.  The very true reality is unknown friends added on FB are not friends at all.  In another universe they could even be software programs set up on servers which engage with real people, just so we the real people don't feel lonely.  Which would be a pretty sad thing when you think about it, but I wouldn't put it past the giant companies to generate such imaginary people. 

Games have rules by which they are played.  The rules are hard and fast ones.  Like monopoly.  If you land on the jail then you lose a go.  There are similar rules in FB games.  To go from one progressives stage to another there are certain things  you have to do.  Once done then the program allows you to upgrade your status.  As though this upgrade in status should give you a little more self esteem, because you can show people and say "hey look at me, yes I'm a level 457 blue knight with gold trimming, nah, nah,"  you could say a little self pride in one's abilities takes over.  But of course such a statement would only hold sentiment with other game players.  Then there are other rules which players impose on the game but which are not actually there.  The rule might be because you have built more widgets than anyone else then before they are allowed to walk on the holly ground where you build widgets they must give you due deference.  Like a million pieces of gold.  But the game doesn't actually have a routine set into it which kicks players out who don't cough up the goods.  So the game allows this behaviour.  It's just other players who don't like it.  So they gang up like bullies when someone doesn't play the game the way they are expected to, it is as if the imaginary game is a real thing which they have invested so much of their life into they will then put all their efforts into squashing the said unwritten rule player.  But when argument takes place and it is said, well the game does allow such actions to take place they have difficulty comprehending.  For them the world becomes a big bad dog of imagination which they goad in one direction or another to their whims.  They become autocratic fascist rulers, lording their made up rules.  FB does not take this into account.  It's online games have their own rules, they are completely unable to program rules which the users think should be there.  The game would then change.  Development costs would increase and it may then get to the point where new users would not want to be part of it.  It becomes a self defeating thing.  Lets face it, games developers are out to make money and my experience with FB games is, there will be some part where gaining higher status means looking in your wallet and pulling out a credit card.  Anyone who thinks otherwise would be pretty naive. 

Cherrie Blair.  Now her actions are openly public, I'm sure there's a lot of people wondering how on earth she could of ever become one the ex PM's wife and two a QC to the judicial system.  Some may even think it's not because of any ability but rather through who she knows.  I don't have to go into details, anyone who wants to do a google search will find the information there.  Now to get to the point of this BLOG.  I went against the grain of an FB game as the grain was imposed by other maniacal players who liked to hold their widgets close to their chest and tell other people what to do.  Blimey reminds me of some religions as well.  The bottom lines is a game on FB is just a game.  Nothing is as good as turning over in bed and saying good morning to someone you love, or going for a coffee with a real friend.  Such is life.  Real life that is.

Can't escape news of the Royal Shedding

There was almost an air of relief as I sat in the pub over a pint and the subject of the royal shedding cropped up.  For each and every person wanted to be in some place where it was not being shown on TV.  A place where there were not brain dead loyalists who have no incling of an idea or reason for the costs of royalty to the nation. In both finance and the lives of ordinary citizens over the centuries.  In a tradition which whiffs of the social class system and the derogatory view of anyone who does not fit a certain status.  Then I get home, the telly is on, the news is in mid stream and guess what, yes, it's the blooming royal shedding again.  I channel hopped, from one to the other, but it was that time of the evening where all channels have a news program and they all had a slot allocated to this hideous event.

Oh to climb into a hole and be devoured, just to avoid the belittling of the rest of society on this one day.

Making a phone call is a two way thing

Sometimes I get the feeling Sparkling has got better things to do than talk to me. Especially when I ring up and Rock Chick answers then tells me they are too busy watching Master Chef to chat with me.  I'm thinking to myself they are watching this program for one of two reasons. One because they like to watch food programs and wonderful food.  The other because of the handsome chefs presenting the program.  It only took a fraction of a moment for Rock to confirm it was the second reason, and she was able to tell me the first names of these chefs.  They had become familiar household celebrities.  Great, I thought.  Me versus a TV chef.  So I was then asked to ring in an hour's time, because the program would of finished.

An hour past.  I was feeling tired now and also took into account previous conversations where Sparkling had called me a stalker.  So I replied in text message to Sparkling that I would not be ringing this evening, she had her chance earlier and I'd catch up tomorrow.  Her response was a single word.   WHAT!  I could see Sparkles saying it as though she was right in front of me.  It would be in both disbelief and "how dare you" tone.  I could tell this.  I replied with another text trying to explain my reasons a little more, but I knew Sparkling was beginning to show a STROP.  Perhaps it was on account she had had only this evening completed a marathon cooking session and like any good chef been drinking the odd glass of wine.  Sparkles replied again.  Her strop now fully came through in the text.  At which I had to react, pick up the phone and talk to her.  However, Rock Chick answered and then complained to me Sparkles had refused to get up from the chair and answer the phone because she was in a STROP.  I tried to give Rock Chick my reasons why I wasn't ringing but was ringing now when Sparkles must of taken the phone off Rock Chick and eventually let me talk to her.  Awwwe.  Lovely. 

I think this proves beyond all doubt, understanding a woman's mind is a very difficult thing.  Enough to make me want to get a recipe out and do a little cooking.  I better start losing a little weight though then I can give the TV chefs a run for their money.

Lets watch a DVD and not the Royal Wedding

At the moment every news program is being haunted by the event of the Royal wedding.  Personally I find it distasteful that a family can be historically born into wealth and be esteemed for who they are and no other reason.  It's not like they invented the toilet roll, electricity or a greater understanding for humanity.  For last time I looked there was nothing of this sort attributed to them.  It's ludicrous every citizen of the UK pays taxes and a little bit of those taxes goes to supporting these people.  Surely it would be better if they went towards cancer research or the abolishment of poverty.  The royal family is a mark of a class system, and all the time they are given such esteem the British class system still exists.  There is nothing I can think of which the royal family have done to improve my life or those around me.  So shamefully I hear the news that we still genuflect before them.  If only we were a republic.  Viva France they certainly had the right idea.

OK I tell a lie.  The because of the royal wedding I'm going to get an extra day off from the Fish Factory as a Bank Holiday has been declared.  I'll do everything I can to completely avoid any new of the couple though.  If I had a fishing rod I would find a pond and sit there all day with my own sandwiches and listen to music.  Music which the fish like because it would be good to get a bite or two.  Then in the evening I'd return home.  Not turn on any television and line up a series of DVDs, pop corn and other little snacks and they would be my entertainment.  The next day would also be difficult to get through because they will surely be on the front of every newspaper.  So I'd not buy a paper or going into a paper shop.  I'd probably take the day off from the Fish Factory because there would likely be blue blooded followers who want to talk about the event..It's sad how the world watches on just for this one event.  Give me a Hitchcock movie any day.

Fruit and nut genes and doing a barbie

I did get a little tipsy from yesterday's barbecue.  Which was only realised when I came over feeling all tired and had to lay on the bed.  Lay come semi-collapse, after which I drank lots of water and sobered up.  In consideration it was relatively successful.  Except for Big Momma getting her knickers in a twist and making sure she was in the way of the cooking rather than just letting me get on with it.  The truth is some people cook but they really should not be allowed near food and this is the case with Big Momma it's an acknowledged universal fact.  I should of set the ground rule first that she was not to do a single thing in the kitchen then maybe she wouldn't of got her knickers in a twist.  Fortunately Mrs Talkative went to the rescue and calmed her down.  It's at times like these when you wish geneticists were wrong.  There's people in every family whose behaviour just makes you question how genetics works.  If not you can't help wonder if there is some kind of gene which skips a generation every now and again and the odd fruit cake pops up.  I'm sure every family has them, and we all know some fruit cakes have more nuts than others.

Getting the barbecue going was a nightmare.  The coals were too small and they soon got burnt up.  Even though they were meant to be an easy light it just didn't happen.  It don't matter how many firelighters you go through it never seems enough to get them going.  Who invented the bloody things, there has got to be an easier way of setting them on fire.  I'll just have to check out YouTube and see if I can get some tips from there.  The skill is in being able to adapt to whatever coals you have bought.  Or saying sod that for a lark and getting the right coals in the first place.  Brickets seem to be the best thing to get.  They are all the same size, burn for a long time but again are hard to light.  I can see why people just opt out for flame grilled gas fire barbies.  So much easier, instant heat and no worries about anything.  Except of course the price.  Well I learnt from it.  And of all things learning to do a barbie is an essential skill.  Better is being chilled out, and best of all would be learning how to cope with members of the family which have the fruit and nut gene.  Oh well better get back to the barbie.

After the barbecue

Well the barbie was great, two sisters Talkative and Silly Sophia didn't decide to use their forks and attack each other.  The kids kind of mingled.  To a point, although I wish they knew each other a little more.  They are still strangers for now.  I got sossled with Buds and a couple of glasses of wine.  At which I was pretty well chilled.  Big Momma had her little tiff as she does which fortunately died down with help from Mrs Talkative. On the whole the family dynamics were relatively controlled.  Which makes me wonder if this is the same with every family.  Do other families get together and have punch ups because they can't stand each other?  I'm sure there must be a few.  Maybe doctors should give out a diazepan pill on every family event which takes place.  Then eventually what the drugs do becomes reality and they don't want to kill each other.  Yep, no blood was drawn so over all it went OK.  I really did enjoy taking the piss out of everyone.  I love them all and I certainly talked about Sparkling Eyes wishing she was there as well. Brilliant.  Am still tipsy now so it certainly went well.

Love and kisses to everyone.  Especially my mate Jamie, which my nieces and nephews found amusing.

Barbecue day, with a little marinade from my mate Jamie Oliver

Today is barbecue day.  I'm going to be out there with the portable stand up barbie, grilling chicken, chops, sausages and burgers.  In no particular order of course.  Last night just before hitting the hay I treated a dozen drum sticks to the Jamie Oliver experience.  They sang with absolute delight when it happened.  I could hear them.  More, more, rub it all in they said.  Yep a nice marinade which they have been soaking in now for the last 9 hours and have at least another 4 or 5 hours to go.  The thought of those drum sticks is doing things to me already.  The saliva in my mouth is going.  HMMMM.  It is so surprising how simple it is to make a marinade sauce, what it really comes down to is the effort you're willing to put into it.  The recipe seemed to be an adaptation of a generic one I've seen Jamie use a couple of times.  And using a blender is an absolute must to get it all lovely and chopped up.  The smell was fantastic.  It had five cloves of garlic, an inch of ginger, coriander, juice from a single lime, two chopped up chilli's, olive oil and soy sauce.  The whole lot was blitzed in a processor.  I then stuck all over the drum sticks and covered in kitchen foil where it is now still resting singing gently away.  I can hear it now, the drum sticks are LOVING IT.  Then I'll be loving them after they have been barbied.

This weekend I think most of south London has gone crazy and decided to do barbies.  When I was at the superstore there was barely any chicken pieces left.  The fresh packets of chicken had all gone. It was very fortunate we already had some in the freezer.  So I made sure to get a dozen quarter pounder beef burgers, this is one thing the kids will eat if they don't like slightly spicy chicken.  Which reminds me I have to get to the superstore and get some more rolls and also a couple of bottles of wine.  For the ladies.  Although none of them actually drink much, I'll probably have one and a half bottles left.  My intention is to get slightly pished and be happy.  If the family wants to argue amongst itself I don't care, they can bloody well get on with it because I'm not going to intervene.  Me and the chicken drum sticks have got a date.  With a budwieser.  I might even get some Guinness now I think of it.  Nothing like a can or two.  No wonder I'm fat.  There is plenty of salad stuff and I was hoping to try and find time to do a rice, but this time I'll put a little chicken stock with it and throw in some coriander.  It will be a kind of accompaniment.  One which doesn't have too much taste just because the kids have got a thing about hot stuff and not liking it.  They also have Easter eggs which Big Momma has got and one of them is 18 years old he's the would be motorcyclist.  Except for the fact he had bought a lemon motorcycle and managed to use it like a speed demond, until the thing broke, which it was going to because he got it off a decidedly dodgy mate who he had assured his mum and dad was a genuine geezer.  Well he wasn't.  Would-be-motorcyclist doesn't actually have it now it was sold to someone else and left him well out of pocket trying to pay of his debts to his mum and dad, Mr and Mrs Talkative. 

Would-be's sister is an angel with the temperament of a little devil and is a beautiful little girl.  All of eight years.  She likes to entice her middle brother into fights and then scream and yell that she was the victim of his aggression.  Like all children they argue, and I'm sure love each other.  I don't get to see them much but I always enjoy their company.  The middle brother I'll call entrepreneur boy.  Because of his antics in little deals whenever he can get away with it.  Like selling Jaffa cakes at lunch time to other boys, or stealing his father's cigarettes and selling them to the other kids.  He has made a few quid on the side from this.  He is a bright kid and I hope he one day goes on to study economics but as with all things you really never know how they are going to turn out until they do, then they are all grown up.  All I can say is I hope they remember me.  I'll see if Would-be would like to get pished today as well.  I know his parents might not be completely up for it, but I'm sure he will be.  Hmm must make a note to get some more booze.  Boy I wish I had an uncle like me, this is so going to be fun. I am really excited over the whole thing.  But always in the back of my mind I'm wondering if there is enough food.  I'm sure there will be seeing as the little ones hardly eat anything.  Yep this is probably going to be the family event of the year.  More booze.  Hmmm wonder if gin would go down OK.  Don't forget ice cubes.  Blimey.  Better see if I can find those bags. 

Happy Barbecue day.

Running and feeling fit

What do these films have in common?  The Naked Prey (1966), The Games (1970),  The Marathon Man (1976) and Apocolypto (2006).  It's quite easy.  In each film the main character takes on a role where they are running, in some cases it is for their life.  As I sit watching Apocolypto the actors are running, they are finely tuned running machines.  It is good to see how well their stamina keeps them going.  When I was running half marathons I got to this stage.  The fastest time I did one in was 1 hour 26 minutes.  When I look at it now it is a pretty respectable time with the possible notion I could of done a sub 3 hour marathon.  Some feat.  I once did a half marathon at Windsor Great Park and the first three miles were each done at a six minute pace.  I couldn't believe it.  There is nothing like the feeling of running well and knowing your breathing feels good, knowing your muscles can take it and having a buzz, it feels very natural.  At the end of the run I'd be knackered especially so when racing.  However, there would also be a great calmness descend. Breathing would then slow down and feel as if I didn't need much air at all. At peak performance the recovery was fast with barely any sore muscles the next day.  But being as fit as this took a lot of hard work, so to an extent it came at a cost.  Time and effort over years.  Then one day I just felt bored with it.  Bored with running.  Bored with looking so skinny because no matter what I ate, which was a lot I just burnt it all off.  Running four, five or more times per week.  Varying the runs in distance and surfaces it all burnt the calories being young people just thought of me as a skinny runt with no conception of the fitness level I had. 

When I began a run I would notice how it could take up to fifteen to twenty minutes to feel warmed up, only then getting to a point where my breathing reached a natural rhythm.  Once I didn't have to worry about gasping for air, it was a matter of occupying my mind.  When you no longer have to concentrate on the run your mind is free.  If you have a lot of emotions, anger, sadness anything at all, going on the run takes up so much energy and effort those feelings are lost.  It was a kind of therapy in this respect.  Then always, always at the end of the run is peace and calm.  Somehow getting undressed from a sweaty kit and having a wash was necessary burden.  Sleep to, could be an issue.  If I had overdone it then my heart would pound away as it does now when I over exercise and n it would be so difficult to sleep.  At some point in the very early morning I'd eventually relax but would have to shortly arise.  After I stopped running, within a couple of months I had put on a stone in weight.  I liked the filling out.  Then the fitness slowly went, that I didn't like but could do nothing about it.  Then as the years passed I become the fat man I am now.  With gym membership which does me no good as I go fewer times than ever before.  At least hitting the roads didn't cost anything.  There's one thing the government haven't taxed us on.  Not for now anyway.

Brain dead and chatting with a zombie

It's been tough going at the Fish Factory.  I really do feel brain dead.  I'm finding myself needing time out from it all so I head to the pub and have a pint.  Then there are evenings when I also would like some company but no one is around.  Getting off the train I met a zombie, we walked the same direction, it was slow going.  I had problems keeping up a conversation with him.  I just didn't realise those guys knew so much.  It could be this is the result of a tough few days at the Fish Factory.  Anything I once had between my ears has shrivelled up.  I'm afraid when I go to bed if I sleep on my side the shrivelled thing which some might call a brain then drops out of my ear and goes off to pastures new.  He might fancy a snail or something just to get in the fast lane. I had better keep an eye out for some of those tonic drinks, if they don't give me heart palpitations and make me keel over clutching my chest then I should be OK.  On the other hand if they do give you a brain burst I'm not sure my body will be able to keep up.  It could be something to do with the good weather we've had recently.  The sun.  It warms everything up and slows you down.  Alternatively I could be imagining it.  Nah, my zombie friend was quite emphatic.  When your flesh starts rotting there will be a pong he said.  Funny how he didn't mention the vegetable in my head.  Maybe he was jealous.  I don't know, he did seem a smart bloke.