Stepping into a puddle

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

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

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

So the moral is, sensibility will win over stupidity.

Dumb, stoic, dumber, more stoic and headless chickens

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

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

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

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

An out of date IQ test

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

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

Preparing for an interview

Sparkling Eyes knows me so well, she said:

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

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

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

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

"Luck is where opportunity meets preparation."

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

Perez is booted

It is sad that Perez Hilton is out of Celebrity Big Brother which is sad from my point of view because I found him to be fantastic entertainment, and contrary to popular view someone who was true to himself. He did not care about kicking off, making fun, being annoying, it was brilliant. There is no doubt Perez was loud, very loud and the kind of person a lot of people just could not put up with when stuck in a confined space. However, I just don't understand all the negative feelings for Perez did a lot, whereas a lot of pretty people did very little. Callumn Best, god what a boring pretty boy he is, where on earth did they dig this guy from? He is I understand famous in his own right, mostly for being a man whore and being on lots of reality TV.  The thing is he is not in any way an interesting person, he's possibly a bit on the slow side if we are really truthful about it.

Just before Perez was booted Anthony Kavanagh a has been singer who had his lime light once and has gone past his sell by date who gets verbally abusive when he drinks too much vodka. The Devil's juice Kav called it.  But Perez was fantastic, when he attacked it was because he was provoked. When he said bad things about other house mates it was because they had said bad things about him. There are only two days left and one thing is for sure it will be somewhat stilted without Perez fooling about.Other complete bores are Michelle Visage, Keith Chegwin and Katie Price has also been a complete unevent.  Perez's arch nemeis Katie Hopkins has the appeal of a Tory turd and again of little interest. In terms of winning I don't know but I can say, none of those left are worthy of winning they have no appeal.  The real winner has unfortunately been booted, Perez mate you were brill. Thanks for your part in this show.  Which should as we know, been called the Perez Show.

Celebrity Big Brother 2015 and the two ejections

This week we've seen Channel 5 get tough on two celebrities, an American Jeremy Jackson and an old Corry star Ken Morley.  You would of thought two people who were aware of stardom, cameras and the transience of celebrity status might of conducted themselves better. It was clear from the out start both individuals have issues. Jeremy just seems weird in many ways, like his personality never properly developed and somehow got altered and stuck. Probably from alcoholism or drugs. He used to play the child actor part of David Hasselhoff's son in Bay Watch.  Which was a hell of a long time ago, when skimpily clad actors in their prime would run on sandy beaches to the delight of fantasising TV viewers. There were few people in those days who hadn't seen an episode of Bay Watch, it was designed to get the viewer hot under the collar. Unlike Corry which is a British institution in itself and half the population of the UK still watch. Myself I'm one of those who don't watch it, I never liked it and was forced to at a time when there was only one TV in the house and no such thing as the internet.  I do remember Ken Morley though and the part he played.  But I wouldn't say he was anything significant not in any sense of the word. Except now. Where both Jackson and Morley have become names in bad behaviour. Morley for his misogynistic and racist remarks and Jackson for thinking he can act in a very unchivalrously way peeking at Chloe Goodman's boob by opening up her dressing gown. The thing was there is something not right about Jackson and his behaviour, something not normal in many little ways. It was strange how Chloe began to seek excuses for Jackson later on. How she expressed herself in the diary room, like he couldn't help what he was doing because we all know he is someone with a lot of issues.  BB wisely told her she was not to blame for the incident. She wasn't, but her excuse making made me think of how some women abused by their partners would make excuses for them.  There was no excuse and part of me wonders whether it was a criminal act.  There was no physical assault which took place but everything would be somewhere on a video tape I'm sure, even though BB did not screen the incident.

What I have learnt over these few days is how fragile and completely nuts some of these celebrities are, it is like they are children in many respects. They don't understand their behaviours and act in child like ways. Perhaps this is to do with the entire magnification of emotions and events when confined on a BB set.  The forced 24 hour proximity with people and an inability to get away and have quiet time, constantly on show.  Then again, more than anyone else these are people who will be prepared and understand how they are being judged by their actions. It's not like they are at home in a private place. On BB they signed a contract and will be expect a nice and very big pay cheque at the end of their time.  If only we could all have a chance of earning such monies in a short period. Forget about the fame, I'll have the money though, mind I'd want people not to think of me in a bad way and would hope to conduct myself as close to civil as I could. Unless stuck in a confined space with a relative, at which I'd probably commit murder and be doing time. No amount of money would be enough then.

Kick the shit out of the machine

Fortunately having bad days isn't something which happens everyday because then they would not be unusual and with a lot of bad days you'd get used to them.  Perhaps they wouldn't be recognised as bad days just ordinary days, or they could be given pet names. Like a animal, what a skunk day it has been, with a bit of relaxed wallaby. What does help coping with these sort of periods is when they happen after being on holiday, feeling relaxed even in a stressed environment is a valuable asset and thing to achieve.  I will admit there are times when I may appear calm and pensive but on the inside of a still exterior is a crazed lunatic on the verge of attacking the next inanimate object which fails to work the way it should work. If not object bureaucratic processes, a pop group has an apt name it is Rage Against the Machine.

This morning I failed to scan my prepaid travel card before getting on the train.  This I unfortunately only realised when I got off the train at the destination station. But at the back of my mind I thought what I would do is get on another train and go the opposite direction. Go back one station to the station where I know there is no automatic barriers on one side and then walk and get some exercise. Unfortunately this did not go to plan, because at the earlier station there were revenues officers. The result was being issued with a £20 penalty ticket. Great.

Getting into the Fish Factory a little later than normal I am confronted with a one hell of a stinky fish explosion which means I will be in the Fish operating theatre all day long, elbows right into the inners of some disgusting stuff.  Wonderful. I am then called into a brief meeting to be advised one of the Fish on my team has to be seconded into another pool and this will be for several weeks. Their absence will in due course result in their work being distributed to the other 8 fishes who are always at pain to express how over stretched they are. Of course their not the only ones but don't take into account such constant groaning and griping doesn't help the situation.

I get to lunch later than normal and decide not to buy a coffee from my sanctuary pub because I now have to try and account for the lost £20. I'm advised by Sparkling that losing this is not the same as losing 20 pounds in weight as it is the first day of dieting.  Which also has to be taken slowly but stressful situations sometimes require gentle love and kisses to ease them. My love and kisses was gained from a Chinese take away when I returned home.

Leaving work I was fortunately offered a lift in someone's car.  Except I would have to walk to them to their car which was up a hill somewhere.  I didn't mind because I was going to walk home and save on buying a train fare as well. The walk took nearly half an hour, there were two separate hills to climb and I could of walked half way home in the same time myself.  The calculations of money saved and loss today goes like this: Loss £20 through penalty fare, loss £2.60 from getting a take away so total loss is £22.60.  Gains are, £1.90 from not purchasing a return ticket, £1.90 for getting a penalty fair and not purchasing a destination ticket, £3.30 from not having a pint in the pub and £2.25 from not having a sanctuary like cup of coffee at lunch time, total gains  £9.45 full loss and profit comes to £22.60 loss and £9.45 gain leaving a net loss of £13.15 on the day. A couple of more days of destitution and I should of paid the penalty fare off.

Well it's a good thing I got my sense of humour, warm socks and porrage for tomorrow's breakfast.

P.S. I got a tooth ache which has been really bothering me the last two days, estimated cost to be discovered. But the worse thing is I don't know whether my gentle and very nice dentist still works at the surgery or has retired, otherwise next time I go it could be butcher time.

Sparkling wears her ring

It is unusual but today a Sunday I returned from Scotland back to London and will go to work tomorrow, the first day of 2015 at work.  It is not usual for me to return on Sunday's because I don't like to work a full first week at the Fish Factory. Working a part week helps me acclimatise and get back into the groove so to say. So next week is going to be tough going, if not for the work certainly for the realisation I need to do something about my eating and exercise habits for the new year as I've put on even more weight over the past chrimbo period.  When I left Sparkling's house she requested I phone her up which I generally do anyway when I return to London but this she asked. It was a little unusual but I didn't think a great deal about it. Until it was I got off the last train, opened the door and had drank my first cup of tea with a piece of cake.

I rang but Sparkling was not at home.  Leaving it for about thirty minutes I rang again. This time she answered. She asked if I missed her and I said I did, for when I get back to work and routine again I'll feel a little blue for sure.  Sparkling then told me she had found her engagement ring which I had given to her some years ago.  She put it on for the first time in years and it fitted perfectly, she had tried to send a photo of it on her finger to me but the picture message failed. Which admittedly was probably a good thing because I would likely have been quiet emotional over seeing it there.  So during the phone conversation Sparkling told me she had put the ring back on. A moment passed and I got a little choked up. She laughed as usual. Sparkling said she liked the feel of it on her finger and the way it made her feel inside.  I remember when we got it and looking in the jeweller's window.  She picked the ring from a cluster of similar ones, but it was different. It sparkles just like Sparkling's eyes sparkle and I know is a beautiful sight. The thought makes me happy she feels she can wear it again and she feels good about wearing it. Because of course it will mean some day we will be married.

My Christmas has been very busy and a very happy one, I helped do the things a partner should do, but maybe I thinks more washing up than normal and I got a real taste of what Sparkling has to do all the time.  Empty the cat's tray, throw the rubbish out, do the hoovering amongst other items. I'm getting well domesticated now. Oh how very happy I am, perhaps next week at work will not be so bad after all.

Chasing the Mow

You never really get to know what happiness a child brings until you are in their company and this is completely true with Princess J. Whilst her mum (Rock Chick) and dad (Dangerous sports lad) were to have a new year's party it was down to her nanny (Gaga) and grand-dad (pops) to look after her. So Princess J spent the hogmany and then most of the first day of 2015 with her Gaga and Pops (moi). Whilst Sparkling Eyes and I, also partied into the wee early hours of new years and hit the hay at 3 a.m. Princess J went to bed at 10 p.m. given good fortune she would have a long sleep and we would get up maybe  10 a.m. and be slightly worse for wear. Except as always there is a caveat and this unfortunately is all at the whim of Olly the cat. Which little Princess J refers to as the Mow. For some reason the Mow brings happiness and excitement to Princess J.  For when he is about she has to play the hunting-for-the-mow game.  The Princess is so alert to the Mow when she is in a deep, deep sleep if she hears him meow she will wake up, and stand in her cot saying in the cutest little voice "mow?" Her fixation with Olly is full and complete, she wants and loves him or just plain wants to pester him. It was at about 8 a.m. Olly decided it was appropriate to begin his alarm clock Sinatra, he wasn't particularly loud in his meow but it didn't matter it was enough to wake up Princess, and after about 4 to 5 hours of sleep Gaga and Pops learnt how to live with little sleep and how to run about like blue arsed flies keeping the little Princess happy.

Mow, mow, then Princess J points her petite index finger at the cat. Olly without any compunction of fear at this point continues with his little meows of attention even though deep in his heart there is a fear of being chased by small footsteps of excitement by the intrusion of a little person.  It's not just the intrusion thing he gets unhappy about, it's a matter of affection. The excite loud screams of a little girl must be hitting a certain audible wave length and cause fear.  That and the manic little running steps she has, it is his nightmare to be chased by Princess J, but he very well deserves it for all the many nights of meowing all kinds of hours and waking Sparkling up. Usually these will result in an elbow to my side as Sparkling says "cat" in her authoritative sergeant major like voice. Unless I am comatose it is always my turn to run about after him, get his biscuits, wet meat or open the door and watch him venture out into the dark deep wilderness of the back garden. He prefers good weather to bad weather as well. Yet with little exciteable Princess J here some of the personal waking up mid morning pain is taken away. Olly's daytime habit is to sleep on a bed and Princess J's day time habit is to play Chasing the Mow. 

The purest form of excitement and happiness arises when Princess J find's the Mow. In excitement her finger and arm point at Olly, her voice goes up an octave, as it gets louder, then she does a Red-Indian (native American Indian) foot to foot running on the spot dance. She is like a mini volcano and jogs with intrepidation on the spot.  This is very unlike the behaviour Rock Chick shows who learnt from a young age to completely ignore her pets because more important to Rock is sleep no cat or dog will get her attention.  Princess J though is a different person altogether and she shows absolute commitment to chasing the mow. I help Princess J up on the bed where Olly might of been asleep.  An evil subconscious laugh goes off in the back of my head, and a voice saying you little fury fiend, you've just met your match. The rest of your day is going to be in fear of the cutest little girl in the world, all because the Princess loves the Mow. LOL, yes I can hear my own evil laugh going off. It's pay back time for the 1 a.m. meow, the 2 a.m. meow the 3 a.m. meow. LOL. Princess J gets on the bed after assistance, I gently try to stroke Olly, but now the alarm bells have really gone off in his head, he stares at Princess and he knows her pats are not gentle strokes her excited scream is going to pierce his ear drum and decides he's not having any of it. He creeps away in full view sneakily as only cats can creep off in full view.  Princess J, points again and shouts out Mow and starts to crawl in his direction. Olly is thinking "no way Jose" and he is off, under the bed away faster than a peep of gas escaping from an open lift following the escaping occupants who under held breath hope they can get far enough away for clean air.  Olly has not choice but to seek salvation outside, in the garden, no matter what the weather he would rather  be out there than inside being hunted.

We tended Princess J most of the day. The excitement of the cat, sleeping over at Gaga's and being given the opportunity of climbing, crawling and walking up stairs, because there are none at her gaff is overwhelming to her. I count stairs up and down, then I count more stairs up and down, this goes on for about twenty minutes at a time. After which her attention is taken to something else and Sparkling is on call for the next round.  That night Gaga and Pops slept the sleep of a zombie apocalypse aftermath. Even a nuclear bomb wasn't going to wake us up. Lets also say Mow slept good as well as there was not a peep out of him till 8 a.m. just when we could of done with another game of Chasing the Mow, where's a little Princess when you need one?

The personality of Baby Princess J at 18 months

I returned from seeing Sparkling Eyes and spent lots of time with Little Princess J, who is so cheeky it is unbelievable. For Princess J, the world has been put here to she can adventure and have as much fun as possible. I so love the sound of her giggles when she laughs. It is an amazing thing to here an 18 month old little girl giggle with excitement. She is learning to mimic other people around her and this is noticeable when she does something, such as sneaking a drink of tea.  For an adult having a cup of tea when you are dying for one will lead to a customary "ahh" sound and a face of relief. It's not just the thought of caffine but probably having a hot drink when cold and being thirsty.  Princess J does not have her own cup of tea but this doesn't stop her from going up to Sparkling Eyes and reaching out for Sparkling's cup. Providing the tea is not too hot, Sparkling will then gently hand her the cup and mind as Princess J takes it in both hands and raises it to her mouth. The difficult thing she has nearly got the hang of is realising the degree to which a cup is tilted changes the rate at which the liquid flows into her mouth. However, she is right on the verge of understanding to gradually tip the cup up.  Then as Princess J sips away at the warm tea she lowers the cup and gives out a big old "ahhh" and a beautiful big smile as well. Just to say I-loved-that-as-well.  It is so funny how she is picking up the norms of how adults act and then applies them to her own world. It is not only tea she does this with as well.

It seems Princess J knows a telephone is meant for communicating with. Now she is no longer content with having a play telephone because she likes to have a go of talking on the real thing. When she sees her mum Rock Chick answer the phone Princess J thinks she should have a chat on the line as well. So first thing is first and Rock dutifully hands the phone over to Princess J.  Princess J has not got the hang of language yet but it doesn't stop her from trying so she engages in wonderful displays of baby babble. She can say some words and if counting she probably has about a 100 or so words but they are said in isolation.  Such as "outside" when she knows she is going out or the word "up" to raise something or indeed the word "again" when she wants to hear her favourite song or watch her favourite film (Frozen). She loves music and so likes to engage in a bit of babble with this as well in a beautiful little singing voice.  I have heard Sparkling ring up Rock Chick and in the background Princess J will be doing her best to get the phone off her mum. Rock passes it over, during this time, Rock says Princess walks about with the phone as if in deep conversation which requires all her concentration. Well it is conversation although her own language, and through this comes her excitement at chatting to her Ga Ga (Sparkling Eyes). Sparkling gives Princess J all the time in the world to say what she wants to say and makes a few comments of the like "is that so" and "then what did you do?" At which Princess J continues and tells the rest of her story.  She knows how to use a phone and what it's for this is for sure.

We believe Princess J may well be an explorer when she grows up, because she likes to lead the way when out on walks and she doesn't like to be chained down with reigns or too much hand holding unless she wants to hold hands. It's like her feet have been made for walking and she will walk and find adventure and wonder in this world in everything she sees. Whether it is a multi-bag packet of chrisps off a supermarket shelf or a packet of bird seed, if she likes the look of it she will pick it up and carry it and continue running around the shop, and then drop it on the floor when she's bored. In the park she loves to go on all of the attractions, slides, swings and rocking horses.  Where possible she will climb and hold on and then laugh her head off when she is pushed or swung because for her it is the most wonderful thing in the world.  And nearly every person she takes an interest in she then melts their heart with her curiosity and happiness. Sparkling takes Princess J for walks around a local aquarium and the Little Princess just runs around the shop loving every moment of it. She is picked up to look at the fishes and then put down again because she can not stay in any one place more than a few seconds. Because boredom is not on her agenda of things to do. She races from one thing to another and doesn't stop at all, especially if taken to a new place, then it's all cylinders firing no matter how tired she really is.

When I pretend to be a monster who catches and then tickles her she is the happiest little girl in the world. Usually running to her mum or to Sparkling to seek someone to save her from the tickle monster then to look back over her should just to see if the tickle monster is there so she can burst out into a good giggle.  She is a happy beautiful little girl and were she a prescription medicine all the ills of the world would fade away in an instance.

Meghan Trainor's All About That Bass - the real chords

It's funny how things can get changed in translation, one of which has got to be the various versions of Meghan Trainor's All About That Bass.  Where she belts out the song in YouTube vids and she has no ukulele it could be anyones best guess as to what chords the song is in. But, and it is a small but, you can actually see for yourself by watching another video of Meghan sing this with her own ukulele, and let me say this, 90% of the YouTube videos teaching how to play this song have got it wrong. 
It is a matter of checking out Meghan for yourself, freezing the frames and looking at how she is holding the chords.  Let me categorically state, there is no A chord in the song. So those who think there is, go and get on your bike and take a long ride of a short pier, then watch the video for yourself while drying off with a big fluffy towel. For you will need the towel.

So here are the screen captures of Meghan Trainor's hands as she forms the chords, the first one is clearly a G chord. However the placement of her thumb on the G String, suggests she alternates between using a good old G major and a G add 9.  It is difficult to tell but as a first chord this looks absolutely nothing like the predicted A chord on so many YouTube videos.  I checked out this configuration on a chord finder web site and took the assumption Meghan is playing in the normal G, C, E, A uke tuning.  What however is an even bigger puzzle is the second chord Meghan uses.

Here it is:

For some reason this chord does not come up on the chord finder, it actually is not a defined chord. Saying this, I guess if you know how to play music and it sounds good the music you play does not have to be dictated by text books.  Maybe it's what makes Meghan's song sound great. I blew up this picture just to show what I mean.

The last chord picture is here on the left.  After watching the video a few times I come to the conclusion this is a D7. Megan is using her thumb to seal of the second fret of the G string. I noticed as Megan played there were moments when she flicked her wrist down after holding chords as though they were uncomfortable and she was giving her wrist a momentary break. I might be wrong in this, it could be she is adding theatrical emphasis on the beat, but in my opinion it's a wrist break because of minor discomfort.

YouTube videos are interpretations by those who post the videos of what are the true chords and beats of a song.  I've got to understand this a lot more as I've checked more and more tutorials.  There would be a favourite youtuber for me who seems to get it right but then they will do a version of a song and it just doesn't hit the spot. In which case I choose to move onto another person or even try a variation on the their interpretation so as to bring the chords or strum pattern closer to what I think the song sounds like.

When it comes down to it there is no right or wrong, there is only the method which gives you the most fun.  Because it's all about the Bass, the Bass no Treble.

Rice the gassious of carbohydrates - the fart food for short

It is normal for me to take lunch at a Chinese, but a couple of weeks ago I realised more than usual I had a whiff about me.  A kind of pong was going on. I'm sure it was related to the ingredients in the chicken and black bean sauce on steamed rice.  There is also garlic and chilli in this dish, but the pong was probably generated by the rice.  I believe rice is the food of farts. Or it is for certain western people, or maybe as said earlier it's the combination of ingredients.  So this week I began an experiment, but it was not just centred on this major culprit, I did my very best to hit every white carbohydrate which normally passed my lips. To try and find an alternative, which ultimately came down to brown bread sandwiches or rather my favourite of brown breads being malted granary. It's got grains in it and has a nice slightly nutty chewy texture. Every breakfast would be some kind of toast from this bread.  Lunchtimes were also brown bread sandwiches, I must admit though I personally don't like eating sandwiches all the time, but this experiment meant I had no alternative. I had to keep to it as closely as possible.  Figuring it would take maybe two to three days for the old food and effects to go through the digestive process.  Fortunately it was closer to one to two days.

The results were amazing, I mean absolutely amazing. A significant decrease in the number of farts. My breath didn't have a garlic like whiff to it after lunch, because I wasn't eating garlic any more. At night time I am prone to a few blistering explosions in the bed. These had nearly stopped, I was changing, no longer the epitome advert of a middle aged man with the farts, grumpy, moaning and always best to keep a few yards from. Yet at the same time I am fighting an addiction and love of carbohydrates.  I love pastries, the occasional white bread bit of toast, cakes and biscuits (which I just about keep at bay) and many other carb foods. Yet being in love with these foods is not socially acceptable, particularly if ever enclosed in a small space and feeling the urge to flatulent behaviour; it's the old lift (elevator) scenario I'm thinking about - where we have all been.  Farting means those people who are the closest to you suffer.  Unless they have some kind of sinus problem. It also means if you spend a lot of time undisturbed in a room then walk out of it and return you notice an invisible pong sits there.  Effectively you have been stewing in your own farty smell and not just breathing it, it has seeped into your clothes.  Your odour is no longer a high class EDT product nice to smell and attractant to others or so the adverts say, but rather one fat old and loyal dogs have near the end of their life, or cats. I remember Tiggy, he was a beautiful affection cat, but if you squeezed him to hard or he just sat around you purring for too long soon you'd realise his silent farts were as bad as your own.  Hetty's dog Barney was another example, he'd just lay on the floor nearby, occasionally wag his tail and occasionally drop a stink bomb.  I loved them both very much, more than anything in the world yet sometimes loving a pet can mean having to put up with a lot.  So the evaporation or greatly reduced smell around me was noticeable, certainly to me so I expect it may have been of notice to others as well.

There is only one solution and it is one which I don't like to ponder on too much. I have to give up on the high carbs.  Closely examine the glycemic index and fight my own addiction to food I have been brought up on.  Which at times is like trying to fight a sneeze. It's not easy, definitely not easy. I'm sure it is to do with the conversion of sugars during digestion and blood sugar levels, with this is the need to diet and exercise. Words which are like garlic and holly water to a vampire. I truly think controlling food intake and living a healthy life is probably the most difficult thing to do in the modern day.  Just looking at the bulletin boards of people affected by this phenomenon leads me to know I am not alone, if only I had a buddy I could talk to whenever the urge grabbed me, like an emergency service number.  But it seems with the number of fat farty people about these are rare individuals. The thing is you need someone who has been through the same experiences as you have, not one of those hypocritical skinny people who has never felt the cravings of a carb addition, not someone who has never experienced stuffing their face and still wanting more.  I need to stop this rant and get out for my Sunday walk, which is late now. At least outside I know there is a lot of fresh air. This room is starting to get a little stuffy.

Meghan Trainor and the ukulele

Ever since I began my love affair with the ukulele, I've kept an eye out for hit music where the ukulele plays a part and the most recent song which has a ukulele version is none other than Meghan Trainor's All About The Bass. She plays the ukulele and sings the song and it sounds bloody brilliant, but she does have a very good voice and this is without voice synthesisers.  She just has a very good voice. Although the version below is sung in a studio, Meghan has a number of versions on Youtube, one of which you will find is the first time she sang it in public, in Nashville which was on the 16.07.14. (UK date format).

 

It is great to see the continuing rise of the ukulele, going from strength to strength, this is a versatile and portable instrument which deserves a place in the heart of everyone interested in music.  Here is a list of other popular songs where the ukulele plays a part.

Hey Soul Sister - Train

You and I - Ingrid Michaelson

Somewhere over the Rainbow -Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole

Five years time - Noah and the Whale

Rise - Eddie Vedder

You belong to me - Stevie Martin (Film The Jerk) written also by Eddie Vedder

The above songs actually have the ukulele in them, but nearly every song which is out can be played with the ukulele and I would say some are certainly disposed to doing a pretty good rendition on the ukulele, for example: I'm Yours by Jason Mraz, Ho Hey by the Lumineers, I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons and lastly Hey there Delilah by the Plain White Ts.  (Nearly forgot Amanda Palmer who sings a lot of songs on the uke). All these are very hip songs, quite contemporary and not too difficult to learn. Even if the mixing of singing and ukulele playing can be difficult to begin with, it's fun to try and one thing I have enjoyed is laughing at my self when I do try.

When I discover new pop music it has now become a habit to check and see if there is a version of someone doing the song on a ukulele and most of the time there is one. There are some great, easy to follow tutorials as well. A number of Youtube teachers break songs down into the simplest versions and in getting started these are definitely the place to start.

So without a doubt this BLOG is an advertisement for the most beautiful and easiest of instruments to learn music and song on (in my opinion) the ukulele.  Mine is called Harvey, and I have another called Bertha, but not yet a third.  In the evenings you will find me, strumming away, watching youtube vids and even trying to sing along. A lone man and a uke, fun, funny and very satisfying.

Holding a fist up to the clouds and rain

Sometimes you can do the right things and it's still not possible to get sleep. This happened last night. Sunday I did the usual walk, this was three hours long, then it rained.  Wonderful. I got wet and carried on, fortunately not drenched but nearly drenched. It was the intermittent kind of rain, the kind which wasn't sure in the first place whether it would come down because it felt so comfortable up there in it's soft fluffy but rather grey looking cloud. Yet it had to rain just to show it was real and the cloud cover was not the kind which just wanted to have a joke, it needed to prove a point. An endearing point, fortunately not too enduring for me. My coat is not of the expensive type which repels all known germs or rain but rather an off the peg and temporarily does the job but doesn't like to be overworked, in short it is an indolent coat when it comes to rain and will give in after a period of time. Consequently there seemed to be a wet patch on my back, even though I had a ruck sack.  I could of easily held my fist up to the sky and damned it to high hell and back, just like a character from Forest Gump, however this act might of looked a little over dramatic. Well certainly to anyone who saw the crazy man with a ruck sack on his back shaking a fist to the sky. "Come on give it to me, give me all you got, you bastard little rain drops. I'm a man, I can take, damn you wet droplets to hell where you may become steam and evaporate, damn, damn and treble damn you." Well, perhaps a little over the to and possibly worthy of an ambulance and being sectioned under the Mental Health Act. All for the sake of a decent rain resistant coat.

Well never mind, it's a new day. Off to work I go, hi ho, hi ho followed by achoo. The revenge of the rain a never ending cold which has so far lasted about 4 weeks.

A need to read and brain food

There is this feeling which has come over me. Like I am spending too much time watching TV and as though TV really isn't doing anything for my brain. It's like my brain is now turning into mash potato probably without milk or butter added in or even a sprinkling of chives which would at least make the thing a little more exotic. The feeling is a need to read, to feed my brain rather than the passiveness of viewing a movie or TV program. It's a little like the feeling of having forgotten a lot of stuff, all the education stuff which was crammed inside has leaked out, a bit like a hole in a bucket. To the extent I'm getting to feel like I don't know a much about anything at all, just at some point I did know something and more than just a little bit. Statistics for example. I used to know lots about statistical tests and statistics but now it's like most of it has gone and I would like to brush up on it again, try and remember what it is I've forgotten. Hence the need for brain food, which is what the reading is all about. Something has got to go in and be thought about, not just anything, something the little cogs can grab hold of and start moving round in circles, in varying circles and speeds.  Watching TED lectures on Youtube helps, but it's passive, by the time I've watched one I've then forgotten what it was which was so important and it didn't seem so inspiring. It's the brain thing, the leaks could be more pronounced with the less effort it takes to take something in. Whereas reading is slow and there is more time for thought, more time to take it in and so the leaks are slower. I got a leaky brain it's all there is to it, what goes in eventually leaks out. I'm surprised I still remember my name.

As part of the regular trips I take on Eastcoast mainline I get points for every pound spent.  It's a kind of club, the more I spend the more points and then in exchange the points can be used for perks. For example for 100 points I get wifi for a day free. Although it's not really free because I had to spend money to get the points in the first place. There is a selection of other items I can get but there's not a whole boat load. So getting a lot of points doesn't mean I could go and get a weekly shop, which is a shame because I do like food. So I spent a few points a couple of months back and it was for a book. The book is: Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman.  I heard of Kahneman he was half of a duo of psychologists who developed models of decision making or thinking. I'd read a few of their papers and articles in books so going for Kahneman's book was right up my street. Except the think has been sat on my desk for a few weeks, dressed up with nowhere to go. It is a sexy little number however when it comes to brain food. I want to devour it and jump into it and to do so means picking the thing up and reading it. Hence the very real need to read, but it is more basic, I just need brain food and something is not hitting the spot. Like the sausage and chips I had this evening, the chips were of an awful quality and the sausage was too hot and greasy and not cooked properly in the middle. Damn I must be a walking heart attack.  Maybe the brain food will help and perhaps some fish, because I hear fish is good for the neurons of the brain as well.

So it is, today I began reading a few pages of Kahneman's book, his sidekick was Amos Tversky they were the ones who come up with the theory of heuristics.  Not all common sense is actual common sense and it is quite misleading. It's all about decision biases, or partly about decision biases, the rest is probably statistics. I should get a pen out, paper, calculator, old text book and see if I can do some of the basic stuff again. Or even program a spreadsheet which is very possible, with enough know how, at the  moment though with all the brain leaks I got it will be a struggle finding a pencil. I should get up early tomorrow morning say about 5 a.m. and just do some brain working and eat toast with fish on it, and a cup of tea. I got some mackerel fillets with cracked black pepper they might do the job all I have to do is find the calculator, eraser, oh, and a pencil. There I go. Inspiration at last all it has to do is wake me up at 5 a.m. in the morning, I'd rather it not keep me awake with insomnia which is altogether a completely different story.

Walking and thinking about happiness

It's Sunday and the clocks went back sometime very early this morning. So it will mean come 3 p.m. ish the sky gets darker.  But if this is anything to gauge autumn by then it will be pretty mild.  I went out for the usual Sunday morning walk, because I very much needed to get out and walk. On account of being fatter than I was a week ago.  Although the decision to go out might have turned the other way, I might very well of decided not to go out, on account of the clouds. Lots of cloud cover, not quite ominous but enough to possibly sway the feeble hearted and non committed. Today though I was committed and so about 9:30 a.m was out the front door and doing my Sunday thing. Walking. Air is such an important thing, especially if you need to breath. I needed to breath and it was great, I don't know why but there seemed to be more cars on the road this Sunday, generally they don't always hit the roads so quickly, but this Sunday there certainly was a lot more than normal. I guess the people in the cars needed to get out as well, except they were not doing the exercise and breathing part, it's much easier pressing peddles than taking steps.

I walked up through the woods and as I did so kicked up dried crispy brown paper like leaves. It's almost the same feeling you get when walking on fresh snow. Not the same but similar. At one point I wondered should a 50 something man be walking and kicking his feet through autumnal leaves? Nobody was about so it didn't matter and then if there were people about it still wouldn't matter. I wore my yellow t-shirt which has a big iconic smiley face on it. The simple text like smiley face but not text. I felt happy this morning, infectiously happy, how weird it might of been to have seen me, the happy fellow out on a walk. Sparkling said told me in a conversation this evening she found herself reading up on happiness and found it was to do with social contact and family.  Mind I think this can be true it can also be true family or social contact can make you unhappy. But having a walk, well, I can't think of having a Sunday walk not making me feel exhilarated and happy.  I love them. Except as winter grows on they may likely become colder, wetter or not at all if it's just too dreary outside.

I been catching up on some old youtube video's of a group called Shaft, one of the members I used to know but he passed away earlier this year.  He was called Trevor.  He was a really nice person to know and although in most of the videos he momentarily is seen there is more opportunity to see him in the song Kiki Riri Boom, he has a smile and it looks like was having a lot of fun in Miami where the vid was shot.  He is probably one of the most famous people I know, given I don't know that many people at all. I thought as I listened to the music and the happy dancing that what better a way can a person be remembered than bringing happiness and having a great smile.  This reminds me of a quote:

"Be the change that you wish to see in the world." - Mahatma Ghandi

I want to be more happy and I want people to be attracted to this same happiness and for it to infect them and make them happy as well. Unfortunately it is not something I currently get from most of the people around me, most of which seem to be depressives.  I think they could all do with an inoculation of the happiness drug.  Free of course. A smile and laughter can go a long way to lighting up stressful situations as well.  Although Ghandi probably had something else in mind when he said these words, possibly along the lines of forgiveness and love. The same measure you could attribute to have been preached successfully by Nelson Mandela. Who I might add also had a wonderful smile and attracted much warmth from many people.

If there is a secret to happiness it is probably all in the mind and attitude plays a big part.  Damn it is deep stuff but it always takes itself very lightly.

My maiden treasure hunt with a metal detector

Sparkling had got me a metal detector for my birthday, which may have been an insight on her behalf as I was going through a patch of watching metal detecting on vids on youtube. They are without doubt compulsive viewing, especially as one man likes to find German military paraphernalia in Germany, bombs included.  So about a month had passed and now Sparkling has a batch of batteries which will fit it as well and we head out to a local park which is based around a reservoir. The thing is when looking for treasure there is always the hope of coming across a big haul of gold and valuable stuff, even a really old coin would be good, it could be worth a few bob. It's this desire to become rich from doing relatively little, in the back of our minds I think most people have this thought.  Maybe it's why so many people still by lottery tickets.  The thing is though, what you want and the reality of what you get are complete opposites.  This happened to be the result of our maiden treasure hunt as well.

Firstly I had to work out how to use the detector and try to understand what was the difference between the two metal types known as ferrous and non-ferrous metals. For the little needle on the detector bounces along two different scales, depending if a metal is one of these types.  It was easy to find out that ferrous means something made from an iron. In my mind then a non ferrous metal meant finding riches.  I worked out how to set the detector at zero and the discrimination by tuning it, then with Wellington boots a two litre bottle of water and a small gardening fork we set off. Even Sparkling had her nice fur lined Wellies fished out of the cupboard.

The treasure hunt was on, I moved the detector backwards and forwards hovering it and scraping it over the soil.  With ear buds plugged in I listened and occasionally it would buzz or go silent.  The first item we found was a 2 pence coin, the second was a metal non-ferrous tent peg, the third a bit of old wire, the fourth another 2 pence coin, the fifth was an old decaying pot handle, the sixth a button the seventh a rusty bent and broken hand saw and the last two items were non ferrous crushed larger cans.  So in a matter of about two hours we'd made a grand profit of 4 pence.  So regardless of the very small treasure haul what I did find out was the detector actually worked. It could find stuff and I had been a successful detective in this respect although an unsuccessful treasure hunter. Now had we actually found something even if it was minor league valuable then it would of been interesting.

As it was I enjoyed the experience and it was nice for once to have got outside and done something with Sparkling, but one thing for sure, the well trodden paths of park land don't have much in the way of gold at all.

The weight of love

This morning I woke up at 4:40 a.m. and felt completely awake, my brain was in full awake mode and even though physically I was still needing additional rest it was not going to happen. So the day has began and I will have to run on 5 hours sleep only. It could of been worse and might of been 4 hours sleep.

Listening to the radio (which decided to actually work this morning) I ate a slice of toast with tomato on top and heard an interesting article.  It reminded me also of an event witnessed in Prague a couple of months ago. We had walked through the old town of Prague, over the Charles Bridge which is a beautiful medieval thing, and were heading up towards the Castle (Kafka wrote about) then passed a small bridge. The metal railings of the bridge were covered in padlocks. It was an odd thing to see. There were two gay men who had the body language of two people in love, they took a padlock and attached it to the railings, then threw the key into the waters below. It was a significant gesture for the two and I must admit to finding it quite touching. Sparkling said we should of done this, she was right we should of but how was I to know there would be a lovers bridge in Prague? None of us did. The radio presenter then spoke of such a bridge in Paris.  Again a remarkable thing when I think about it. It is almost like a phenomenon a local padlock seller has thought up in order to get a few tourist sales, the word has spread and now they are probably doing it all over the world. It's a craze, or fad, a bit like skateboarding which has never gone away. I should of persisted with my own wheeled board as well. This bridge in Paris had partly collapsed, the authorities had said the weight of padlocks and been too much.  As a consequence the local council has now banned padlocks from being attached to it. There was no mention of an alternative lovers fad which they could do, they quite rightly didn't want to spend all their well earned tourist profits on repairing bridges which tourists were getting a kick out of. Shame on you Paris for it seems this is not the most romantic capital of the world it's just a rumour and probably one started by a flower seller in the middle of winter.

My own love I keep in my heart and quietly express it to Sparkling Eyes. Which reminds me I need to research about how to handle angry people and calm them down, as trying to get out of a moving car while the love of your life gives you a dressing down could end up in personal injury.

It's my birthday

Well it's my birthday and you're not XX everyday.  I remember in them olden days when I was maybe 25 I was a fit healthy fit (said that twice) skinny running machine. Another quarter of a century later and I'm more of a pudding eater than any kind of healthy fit running athlete. Oh how things have changed. Fortunately Sparkling Eyes has a new regime for me to get this blubber in shape, it's called gardening. After about six hours of it I taken a sneaky sit down because she is out of the house. I'm hoping if she is out a little longer I'll get a chance to play with Harvey (ukulele) because I'm getting withdrawal symptoms. Of course there is also Princess J who by her constant state of movement demands constant attention and watching, I'm the surrogate keep-an-eye-on Princess person. When there is no one else about its Pops to the baby sitting. So on a shop I and Princess J went round the aisles and shelves one way, whilst Rock Chick and Sparkling went another, Princess J led the way whilst I followed and tidied up after her.   For dieting the idea is the more you move about the more calories are used up and little Princess is someone to keep you always on the move.

Even though I have told Sparkling since the last time I was up, I'd lost half a pound. She didn't believe this. The first words out of her mouth when I saw her yesterday was "Hello fatty" and this is the love of my life. I always keep my comments to myself when she has curlers in her hair, if I didn't then I'd be pushing up daisies and may I say a lot of daisies to.

Well it has been a great day, I saw Princess throw her food on the floor when she didn't like to eat it, well so much for salad and I can understand it. I witnessed Sparkling change my mind from going out for dinner to her cooking it, I saw L & B man turn into a very soppy smiley bloke just in the presences of Princess J, it has been a wonderful day for a fat lad who is XX years old.

An idea for a book

At some place, somewhere this week, I had an idea for a book. Or the storyline of a book should I say.  I'm not sure if it happened while walking past the supermarket, eating at the Chinese or reading a poster outside of a community hall. It goes like this. At a point in time an individual has to make a decision, this is an important decision which will have repercussion, possibly life or death. The suggestion here is a bit like the wings of a butterfly causing a hurricane in Texas notion. For ultimately I believe we get the things we deserve through the actions and decision we have made. This individual, could be male or female, of course it would be easier to write from a male perspective because I am a male than a female's, but at the same time changing gender type would also be an interesting challenge.  So the book would be about all the feelings, thoughts and experiences the main character has experienced which had an impact on making their decision. The scenario could be played out twice, once with the actions of a wrong decision being made and once with a right decision being made.  The consequences of both decisions could be multifaceted so even the right as it may appear to be at first could turn out to be the wrong choice, or the face value wrong choice turn out to be the right decision over a period of time.

It's a bit like politics, when I see politicians make decisions on the fly there is a glimpse of grave errors and unforeseen consequences of those decision. It's because politicians who make decisions which effect others, do not see the repercussions of the individuals they are thinking for.  They don't go out and ask such people what will happen if I take this benefit away from you?  An examples has been the present government in demolishing the Sure Start Initiate as soon as they came into power.   You don't have to be a clairvoyant to predict the future and be in touch with the non existent spirit would.  I always put my hands on the table and concentrate waiting to see if there is a knock, but it never happens. 

The book could be nice and warm by giving the reader a taste of what might be wrong but then going on to show how the main character did actually take the correct road. Alternatively it may end philosophically and not give a commitment to the final outcome. The idea was just an idea, the difficult bit is putting it into action. Working on it, like any book would require commitment and time over at least two to three years. Unless of course it were a short story, which wouldn't take so long to do, between days and weeks.

OK now to put my hands on the table, close my eyes and see if an answer will come, though it's unlikely to be a knock. Certainly not on wood.