Area 136

The fuck up faerie appeared!

Yes, at the end of this long and arduous day (ahem) the phone goes. A customer. Who says they have sent in an important bit of paperwork to us along with an application form. Did we get it. I cant remember because we get so much crap here so I say I will check and get back to them.

Well. From my records it seems we didn't get it. But they need the bit of paperwork - the ORIGINAL important bit of paperwork returned to them after the form is processed. The form we never got.

So.

That is going to be a fun conversation tomorrow morning isnt it.

Eeeep.

That little nagging voice that is saying

"You have not done enough work today!"

Little bastard.

FUCK OFF!

I will not let it bother me. Oh no. Imune to its little voice I am. Gone all Yoda have I. Hmmm yes.

In other news.

Tonight is a Pagan festival I cant spell. So there. It is supposed to mark the first harvest of the year I believe. It's pronounced loonessa, but the spelling would (and does in fact) make a dyslexic panic - so go look it up.

So some mead will be quaffed later. And thanks given.

So tomorrow will be another in a long stream of highly productive days. You know, those things I am renowned for.

Ahem.

My amplifiers, by Nick aged 44 and some bits.

1st one was an ickle transistor job that came with my first electric guitar. About 5 watts output – sounded like crap. So I would (in the pursuit of a more rocking tone) put a bit of old cloth between the speaker cone and the metal speaker chassis. This would muffle the speaker and make it distort. Mmmmmmmmm distorted fuzzy goodness. Then the speaker died – for some strange reason so I replaced it with one from an old stereo. Then a friend of mine built me a box of tricks that boosted the guitar signal and made the notes go all swooshy or blippy and all sorts of groovy things. I spent hours on my knees with my guitar in my lap fiddling with this device (almost said box but that would have been far to open for smutness) till my legs went numb up to my hips and would then lay on the bedroom floor in agony as the blood flowed back into them. This is why my knee joints are fucked up.

2 – a huge wooden box of a thing built as an experiment by another friend of mine. Also all transistor, also sounded like crap but it was louder.

3 – we started to rehearse in a band but had to hire amplifiers from the studios so we would not get A – drowned out by the drummer and B – laughed out of the building. These were generally HH100’s – again all transistor but sounded a bit better. And they had control panels that glowed green! Which we thought was well cool. Didn’t hide the fact that we couldn’t play but there ya go.

4 – after some time with some more rubbish that escapes me, the band I was in invested in two Sound City 120w valve heads. Huge heavy things with speakers to match, loud as hell but not big on rock distortion. So distortion pedals where needed.

5 – my first Marshall. A 50w valve amp with two 12 inch speakers. A classic non channel switching rock box.

6 – My first and only Marshall stack. Can be seen in the header picture on Old-Nick blog. That bastard used to move some air!

7 – Ahh the rack! We all had them in the 90’s baby. Marshall JMP 1 Pre amp, one multi effects unit and a Marshall 20w per channel power amp, all in an SKB moulded flight case. Still got all of it, but now it is in “storage” around the house. Sounded great and was the rig I gigged most with.

8 – two Marshall 50w amps (exactly the same as the one at No 5) one of which I still have and use, the other I think is living in Brighton with a guy called Jim Clarke, who teaches at the Brighton Music Institute. So it is technically still mine although he has been borrowing it for over four years.

This does not take into account numerous effects pedals and other bits and bobs stuck in front of, or added to them to make them noisier.

And that just about killed enough time for me to go to lunch.

You can wake up now.

Has been the arrival of "The trolley" pushed by little Gary from the canteen.

You can tell its not being the most productive and exciting day so far eh?

The trolley is loaded with sarnie goodness and fizzy drinks and such. I have got my self a bottle of coke and after a few swigs can now let rip with basso profundo belches when ever needed. Which pleases my female co workers no end. Mr Charm after all.

Gary is a geezer of Greek extraction, and he makes the best home made Scotch eggs I have ever tasted.

He had some on the counter of the canteen once and I asked him if they were his, he said yes, so I just had to bite into one.

Yeah, I know - you can have fun with that last prargraph if you want, my gift to the blog nation as it were.

Sooooooooooooo.

Busy busy busy.

I have an unrivaled skiving opportunity today and can blog when ever I choose.

Can I think of one single interesting thing to say?

WELL CAN I?

no.

So no change there then.

Oh bugger it, coffee time.

About all this wet weather has been that my hayfever has not bothered me too much.

Now I am starting to remember what a joy it is to have a runny nose, itchy throat and (on a bad day) itchy ears! My ears itch because the irritation in my throat speads to my ear canal. It is soooo annoying because it is impossible to scratch. Unless I rip my head open, which I do get tempted to do after a time.

Can't we have some more rain?

ahem.

Now for reasons that I will not and cannot go into here, our office is totally free of managers today.

Not one. All gone.

And we do have a lot of stuff to be getting on with as well.

But.

Exactly how hard, on a scale of 1 to 10 do you think I will be trying, with 1 being "coffee and blogging nonstop" and 10 being "a blur of well planned working fury"

Hmmmmmm?

You know your not actaully working to full capacity when you spend half an hour getting a report out of the finance system, filtering the information, making up the spreadsheet and comparing said information to the area your working on, then realise the reason nothing matches up is that you have in fact, entered the totally wrong area code and there is no way the records that you have been hurting your head with are EVER going to match up with what you had in the first place.

Je suis an llwnt.

innit.

Can I go to bed now please?

cometh the pub.

In an attempt to wring some life out of this beffudled zombie of a body that I inexplicably have been given to work with today, I am taking my copy of Classic Rock magazine and defecting to The Angel Puplic house.

Purely medicinal and desperate I asshure you.

That is all.

In other news.

I am a twat of the highest order.

The sun hit my retinas like a salvo of nuclear weapons this morning as I stepped outside Cassa del Nick. Basatard thing has no consideration for people of a delicate disposition.

Lets just say I should not be opperating any heavy machinery today shall we.

Now the state of my internals does not bode well for a long hard day doing whatever it is I am supposed to be doiong, but I do have a lot of it to do.

So I am going to.

Honest.

Soon.

God I need a pony.

and a coffee.

I feel like 10lbs of shit in a 5lb bag.

Happy Monday everybody.

(and in the voice of DLR doing one of his famous two note screams)

HhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaHH!

Well

Fuck it and good night.

None of which, my dear 0.5 of a reader, will ever be mentioned again in this post or any of those little particles that you try to crack open with a hammer when you find them in your navel after a night on the alcohol express.

What?

OK, that's just me then.

I find myself sat here, which is pretty easy as I am after all sat here, so do not have to get up and go look for me - as I am sat here. As I said earlier.

Erm,

Anyway.

What were you saying.

Ah yes, I remember - something about your grandmother sucking eggs.

Well, I think you said grandmother. And I think you said eggs. Eeeeep.

In other news.

Someone has been stood up in a gay bar. And decided to text me to tell me they were pissed. Then of course made the mistake of telling me where they were.

So. Everything is going EXACTLY as per normal then eh?

Remember one thing pickles - If you can't trust yourself, Hide your money!

Yesterday evening when Sarah and Jo were cleaning out Sarahs pet snails (look it was them or a puppy or a blue whale or a Griffin) Sarah made an exciting discovery.

You may remember that when we put them in to this enclosure box thing that Sarah asked why two of them were "cuddling" I told her they were having sex and she was Ok with it. Well they really were at it as the discovery was six tiny teeny little baby snails loose were before there had only been adults.

She was dead pleased.

But I think it has addled her brain.

When I got home this evening, she was busy at the table making something out of a shoe box. "Guess what I am making daddy!"

"A mess on the table that you will refuse or forget to clear away before dinner?"

"No, a house for my boyfriend. I'm going to marry him"

"Oh good" said I thinking it was time to call social services "Who is this boyfriend then?" (and how the hell will he be able to live in a shoe box!)

"here he is!"

And she held up a tiny, little, hand made out of plastiscene, SNAIL.

Called, wait for it "Snail, not Mr Snail yet because we're not married"

I thought insanity skipped a generation.

I love her but she is clearly nuts.

Went to the British Museum last night (yes I know I told you already! sheees calm down!) with Jo and Sarah.

We were all a bit soggy on arrival thanks to the wonderful British summer, and squelched into the main entrance and headed for the Egyptian Galleries.

The entire museum seemed to be filled with boy scouts and other strangly uniformed young people from all over the world! Could hardly move in the galleries for people trying to take pictures.

So we moved around the painted caskets and some of my Egyptology course came back to me, so I told Sarah why there were eyes painted on one side of the coffins, what the canopic jars were for, why they put little model boats and such in the burials, what the little shabti figures were for. Sounded almost educated I did!

She of course loved the unwrapped mummified body and the arm that is so dry it looks like it is made from wood. We even saw the mummified cats, bulls and food!
I think Sarah understood why these items were put in the tombs when I explained it, but you cant ram information in there by force.

After this we all headed off to Wagamama for some noodles and sutch, which was great (I recomend the Chilli Chicken Remen) I like the fact that the food is good but reasonably priced and its all just benches at tables and no pretence at poshness. Just good cheap food.

Then back home to put a sleepy little explorer to bed.

For some unknown reason I have just eaten a twix bar AND a packet of malteasers. Pig boy rides again.

Well sometime you just gotta have choceeeeeeee!

Anyway, tonight after work I am going to travel in the oposite direction to home and meet up with Jo and Sarah to go to the British Museum. When this little trip was suggested to Sarah she looked doubtful, till I reminded her that the BM is where they have the Mummies!

Oh yes, nothing kids like more than genuine dead bodies in glass cabinets.

Mind you, put one in there bed just for a laugh and you never here the end of it!

In other news - go on, if you havn't already.

http://www.myspace.com/klickettyelephant

Well we were drunk. We had some vauge musical ability. So Kizlode and I borrowed a fourtrack, got legless and recorded a song. It was a cover of "Somewhere Else" and it went on for ages. Actually it was called "I left my lyric sheet - somewhere else"

We played it to some friends. They said - "lets start a band doing cover versions with silly lyrics!"

We had another drink and said "Yeah fuck it, why not"

So we did.

Go here to experience the above mentioned bedroom recorded epic drunk stoopid song and poor quality live recordings of a bunch of drunks, and remember we where just having fun!

http://www.myspace.com/klickettyelephant

Called Dusty. Repeatedly stabbed in fact – I even lost blood, but not much.

Yep Dusty was the guy that did my tattoo, and a very nice bloke he was too.

Yesterday was a bit of a trip back down memory lane as far as nerves go. Yes I was nervous, and as the day wore on it got worse. It reminded me of the feeling of excitement and fear I used to get before a gig, but this was the grade of nervousness felt before your second gig – not as bad as the first gig nerves but pretty bad. I realised that what I was in fact worried about was not how much it was going to hurt, but if I was going to make a complete tit of myself and pass out or go wobbly! I’d look such an arse.

In fact the only way I could make the nerves go away was, erm, well, to think about sex basically.

Hey it worked, so sue me!

After work I got off the tube at Bond Street and moved in a cloud of nervous cigarette smoke towards Selfridges. On the way I found somewhere to sit and munched away at my chicken (how appropriate) sandwich and found I had a deal of trouble swallowing. Next up, or down, was the Mars bar – you have to have eaten in the last hour before getting a tatt to keep you blood sugar levels up and prevent fainting.

Another nervous ciggie was consumed and I went in. I was a bit early but I knew there were forms to fill out, so I got sat down and started on the paperwork. You basically have to tell them if you have any medical conditions, indicate on a little body outline where you want the tattoo, write a brief description of the design and the artist will sign a box stating that all is agreed and so on, so if afterwards you go “hang on! That’s a flying pig not a dragon!” you have no come back. You get what you asked for basically.

The advantages of this place being in a big department store are that it has to come up to a high level of hygiene, the disadvantages are having to listen to Amy Wine-lake singing “Rehab” as it is too close to the girly clothes department! Thank god for MP3 players.

So the buzzing in the booth stops and out comes a satisfied (and still conscious and not at all crying) customer. Then out comes Dusty. Now they say, “Never trust a skinny Chef” so for tattoo artists it should go “Never trust a tattoo artist with no tattoos” Thankfully Dusty had a very plentiful covering, like a walking catalogue basically. He smiled at me and laughed when I made an “Eeeeeep” face and told him this was my first Tatt. “Nothing to worry about – its just fear of the unknown”

So in we went, he scanned the design then tidied it up and made a transfer, chatting as he worked, we had a couple of goes getting the positioning right and it was time to do some inking.

Dusty assured me the ink gun had a bark worse than its bite and he was not a heavy-handed worker. By now I was relaxed, as we had been discussing music, bars, tattoos and having a laugh so I was ready to let him do his worst. So he did.

I can honestly say that I have been scratched by people and its hurt more! It just felt like someone drawing on you with a pen and pressing quite firmly – no little sharp stabbing pains at all! I started to laugh at one point and told dusty what a twat I had been getting all nervous.

The actual ink to skin process took less than 15 minutes, and afterwards Dusty talked me through the care regime as he put one of those clear plastic covers over the new ink.

As I left, we shook hands and he said, “See you again?” with a little knowing smile on his face.

IF

And it is a big tall if with spotlights on it and huge granite letters, if I ever get another one, I would want Dusty to do it. He was brilliant, and a very nice chap.

For a Geordie like.

Sitting here having a quick squint at blogs before shutting the pc down, after a very hard day at work (well hard-ish, 8 hours with no lunch break, just a quick sarnie at my desk)

I have a large Ouzo and coke in one hand.

And a new "Tripple Goddess" Tattoo on my left upper arm/shoulder.

(Friends can see it in my media)

Some how, having a tattoo makes you feel just a leeeeeeetle bit more "Rock n Roll"

I know some of you have loads more than just one - but ya gotta start somewhere right?

Details tomorrow.

G'night.
x

The toilets in this new office are small, so in the gents there is only room for two cubicles (or Garry Glitters as I call them) and two washbasins. No urinals – this means that the chaps have to pee into the toilet.

I am amazed how many blokes can’t get there head round picking up the damn seat before they start peeing! I am not cleaning someone’s piss before I can have a pony!

And even if they do have the brainpower to think to pick the seat up, they seam to have no sense of aim at all, almost like they are in the grip of some disease that makes their hands shake and send little droplets of wiz all over the place!

Christ my aim is sniper accurate compared to some people apparently!

In other news,

Enjoying your lunch where you?

Is what I wanted to say to the young guy that sat next to me on the train this morning. A huge cloud of stale sweat smell billowed out as he dropped into the seat next to me!

God I hate that, and people say smokers smell bad.

OK we do, but I hope never to atain that level of stench!

That has to be one of the worst things about public transport - The Public!

In other news, loads to do today here at work with more unrealistic requests coming in from our totally out of contact section boss. Over 300 records checked and corrected by close of play yesterday, from a system that wont give us a report that we can work on? Certainly your madship. Like fuck.

Anyway, onwards and sideways.

Or so it would seem.

When sitting listening to my mp3 player through my in ear headphone things, I have to adjust them periodically to get them back into the optimum position for full frequency response. Basically poking them back into the ear canal. Now just after this delicate manoeuvre, I often hear a loud “Beeeeeeeeeeeeooooowwwwwwwwwzzzzz” sound in my left ear!

Just like the first note of “Tom Sawyer” by Rush (only classic rock fans will know this one)

That note was made, as far as I know, by the Taurus Bass Pedals of Geddy Lee.

It is actually just the sound of the rubber ear-plug vibrating as the air pressure changes in my ear canal when my jaw moves, but its quite odd.

It makes it sound like some roadie has come into the studio to pass another freshly peeled Groupie with her navel stuffed with Skunk and her nipples dusted with cocaine to the lead singer, and he has drunkenly put his foot in the wrong place on the equipment strewn studio floor!

Which I have actually seen happen at rehearsals.

Bloody lead singers get all the perks and all the keyboard player gets is some fat tattooed ex bike gang member standing on his equipment.

Here I is.

Despite a rather insane and interesting Grand Prix, the Sunday feeling of bored brain stagnation is creeping in.

Had a quick catch up on some blogs, good to see certain people back, sad to see certain people doing certain things. But hey, whatever.

Sarah is feeling a bit perkier today or appears to be. Might be able to get away without having to get her to the doctors. She has been playing the piano and drawing, is now dancing round the kitchen to the scissor sisters as Jo cooks.

Tonight I will be sad however, as the last episode of Rome is shown. Damn I love that show. I have a horrible feeling that one of either Verenus or Pullo may die. Hope not. Obviously having a vauge grasp of Roman history I know who is going to win the main punch up, so Mark Anthony only has about half an episode to use the C word as much as possible!

Other than that I think maybe the odd glass of something to relax with, and another dull-ish sunday will have slipped by.

Just got back from that there "The London" with Sarah and S&F.

Sarah now has two gold studs with blue "jewels" in the ends that match her eyes. She is very happy with them. We went to selfridges to get it done as you know. Sarah was looking a little nervous about it but I gave her lots of hugs and told her if she didn't want to do it she didn't have too. But once she spotted the earings she wanted, a look of determination appeared.

Up until Sarahs turn, the chap doing the ear piercing was a big bald headed, tattooed biker type called Dave. He came out and asked who was next and there was little Sarah. "Ah, OK - just hang on one second" and he went off to summon Steph, a teenage girl with black and blond hair, some facial piercings and quite a few nice tattoos.

She was great, and explained everything to Sarah as she worked, was very concious of cross infection and changed her gloves for a new pair after marking Sarahs ears but before piercing them. Sarah didn't cry or even get teary eyed. "Is that it?" she asked when Steph was done. "Yes darling, you have pierced ears!"

I watched all this as I stood next to her holding her hand, Sarah I mean - not Steph.

But if she'd asked me to......

ahem.

Then off for a quick shop in Hamleys and then lunch in China town.

Sarah is now earinged up to the gills and a little sleepy now, but looking foreward to showing them off to mummy when she gets here. And of course showing off the battery powered hamster in a ball that she got in Hamleys.

Right.

Sarah and I are (Ok, have been and will be again as soon as I stop doing this) curled up on the sofa, with a happy purring Cleo to one side of us and a happy not yet snoring Shipscook to the other, watching old Dr Who dvd's.

She is feeling much better and yes, she is here. My "darling and always in possesion of all the facts and not prone to confusing all and sundry" mother in law was wrong with her claim that my daughter was swimming in that downpour earlier.

Sarah just did not feel good after swimming. Sore throat and such. But after a sleep and a rest she decided that she was up to coming over here.

And I am so pleased to have her sat by me giggling and laughing as we make fun of the costumes and creatures on the tv, as she makes Mr S laugh with sayings like "I swear by the scab of my knee!" and such.

I feel much more relaxed now.

So, I'm off back to the sofa.

Talk to you all tomorrow or some when.

Right now I should be sat on the sofa with Sarah here at S&F towers watching the simpsons. Sarah would have been dropped off my her grand parents, and we would have settled down for the evening with some food and conversation with S&F and maybe a worry of the cats for good measure. Then bright and early-ish tomorrow it was off up the London to get Sarahs ears pierced.

But.

I got here and called my in-laws to say it was OK to bring Sarah over. But I was told that Sarah was feeling ill and was laying on the sofa. She had apparently had a swimming lesson at school today in the heated outdoor pool that her school has - IN THAT RAIN! and now is a bit hot to the touch and not feeling up to much. I called back in an hour and she was asleep, so I am going to call back in another half hour with a revised plan. Basically leave her there for the night if the in-laws don't mind (carting a sick child all over the place is never a good idea) and if she is better in the morning we will pick her up and take her to get her ears done - if she wants.

But I was looking forward to seeing her tonight. I like my daughters company, she is funny. I mean obviously I love her to death, and am now worried about her health.

Oh well. Things never go the way I plan.

Out side now the sun is beaming and white fluffy clouds are being punted across the sky by a brisk wind. It has been like this since my lunch hour ended.

During my lunch hour you could barely see across the street due to what appeared to be a section of the North Sea falling out of the sky.

So which God exactly did I upset now!

In other news, I am now getting email notifications of comments that I saw and replied to this morning!

Oh ffs!

Are

1, all the scabby pidgeons seem to have gone somewhere dry.

2, Attractive women in summer dresses soaked to dangerously see through levels.

1. There are crumbs in your bed cos lets face it you don't live in a showhome. What kind of cookies do those crumbs come from?

Not a big buscuit eater, more likley to be crumbs from something like a Brioche or maybe a bacon sandwich.

2. You are sitting on the toilet brushing your teeth cos you are hungover as normal. What got you that drunk?

The wide variety of booze consumed in an unwise and overlong evening of stupidity.

3. You have been dumped cos well, lets face it .. you are a loser. What comfort food do you grab? (after sticking pins in a voodoo doll obviously)

Bombay mix.

4. Your wife/husband has pissed you off (that means angry in the US by the way ... not watersports) so you decide to go have an expensive gourmet meal on his/her credit card. What do you order?

I fly to cyprus and go to the Georgia restaurant in Paphos and have a mezze with tons of wine.

5. Sitting in church (waiting for the lightning to strike you) and you have a book/magazine tucked inside the hymn sheet. What is it?

Pagan lovelies in latex.

I tag Shipscook, the moff, Greybags, Naughty and Bloglikesit.

Looks like I have to spend another day without any email notification of replies to my posts.

I was begining to get paranoid than no one liked me.

But of course, I am still wildly popular - its just the machine not telling me I am.

And I do need to be told, coz, well, ya know.

So please someone, wave a magic wand at the system and make it work like it used to.

bleat, bleat and so on.

Just stood outside having a ciggie and noticed that no one, not even me, was casting a shadow.

This can mean only one of two things:

A - The city of London is populated by Vampires

B - The weather is fucking shite.

When you throw open the curtains in the morning and it gets darker in your room is it?

Grey and wet and blessed with the wonderful news that the south is in for more torrential rain this weekend. Oh good.

Now about this site. This morning I had 56 email notifications about replies to posts and private posts, over half of which I had already seen but had no notification of yesterday! Now will it work the way it is supposed to today? who knows, but it seams to be a bit odd round here since the re design.

One of my old comments is getting a load of spam crap about mp3 players - I deleted some of them but now I cant be arsed to go back and take them off. What is that all about!

And yesterday I got an invite from someone WHO DIDNT EXIST! well not on blog anyway - they must have invited me then deleted their profile, which is a strange way to behave.

Have a good Friday if at all possible people, and don't get squashed or Mashed

And it's only 10.33.

Which does not bode well for the day.

Hit me suddenly. Blergh.

May have to think about actually maybe possibly perhaps going to bed at an hour that allows for all the not sleeping and gives me at least six hours to sleep in.

In other news, erm. I think my stars were right.

Bugger.

After yesterdays experience of wading through tons of crap on my pc, dealing with enquiries from people in other sections who don’t seen to know how to do there jobs, and a day where gaining access to blog.co.uk was harder than copping a feel off the Queen, I went home a bit tense.

I didn’t even fall asleep on the train, the feeling of tension across my shoulders kept me awake.

So I got back to S&F’s turned on the computer, helped myself to an ickle Vodka and coke and spent half an hour scooting around on here, which helped.

Part two of the relaxation regime came in the form of me playing guitar rather loudly (and probably quite badly) to a house where my only audience were the cats – Tolley and Cleo. As I wailed away I noticed that every now and again a furry blur would shoot past the doorway, racing along the hall, or up and down the stairs. A few seconds later another would whiz past in the other direction! It was Tolley and Cleo doing a very passable impression of Cat Moshing! Yeah! The cats were rocking out with me!

Well either that or the high-pitched pick harmonics were driving the poor little things nuts.

Anyway I almost didn’t hear the phone ringing (Mrs F calling from outside to tell me to open the garage) over the noise of roaring amp, vibrating ornaments and flying cats, but I did eventually stop. Had a quick chat to an ex blogger on my mobile which added to the relaxation – talking to nice people does that to you I find.

After that it was a quick gulp of some Old Rosie, then off up to the forest and a lovely pub for another drink with S&F and then home via curry shop to veg out in front of Rome on the telly. All stresses of the day gone.

Now today, my stars in the Metro say basically, forget it – nothing will go right today.

But I don’t believe a word of it. Ahem.

I want a Dry Martini and I want it in the Jacuzzi. But the Jacuzzi am buggered and Mr S is not here to do the Martini thing. (Meno, a dry Martini is one where the main ingredient is the Gin/Vodka, the "dryer" you have it, the less vermouth you have) So Although I can make a Martini I don't like running barefoot through Mr S's drinks cabinet when he is not around. But he wouldn't mind if I did, but - ya know, respect innit.

So, had too much crap to do and not enough access to here. But now am sat in the "Opium Den" as featured in the post "Space - above and behind" and just had a quick catch up.

Now I am off to complete the unwinding process with a Les Paul and some loud twangage!

And later on - ROME on the telly and a takeaway with S&F. Ahh perfect.

Right - off to fire up the amp.

It’s amazing, on days like this when (from here at least) blog is a hard to reach and glacial slow place, when you can’t actually just spend fifteen quick minutes commenting and chatting, when you get no emails to say there was a comment, none of your usual distractions, it makes you feel alone and stuck in a job you actually don’t like at all.

Of course I am actually stuck in a job I don’t like, but without the little breakouts into bloggdom I can’t forget it!

Or any of the other stuff.

What a shitty fucking dull day!

(All of this was written while waiting for blog to take ONE short comment to one post)

I want a Jacuzzi and a Martini.

BUGGER!

Actually I could write a fucking book in the time the site is taking to load from here. Must be our shitty work servers. Fuck it – I needed to be distracted from this rubbish today.

Going back to another thrilling afternoons work as this site WILL NOT do anything faster than a snail in a headwind!

Changing pages to see my friends post takes forever!

leaving a comment takes ages after you hit the button!

Opening a damn blog is an excercise in freeform swearing and accute threats directed at the hard drive.

I was hoping to relax a bit and have a nice play in the virtual fun room but NO.

Thanks bcuk.

you total bunch of llwnts!

I am writing this in word again, as bcuk is going slower than a sloth swimming through treacle while tied to mount Everest by its nipples.

I was intending to spend this lunch time catching up and commenting on all the blogs since this morning, but I fucking well can’t can I! It is taking too long!.

For example I have just commented on Abis’ blog and while typing this very line I am seeing nothing but a blank page behind this window.

Anyway.

I am having one of those days where you do lots of work and get nothing done that you should be doing. I have to do other peoples, even other departments thinking and work for them, and still try to do what I am supposed to. So I am just wound up and getting nowhere.

I should of course be relaxing in the pub, but I gave that up to catch up on the blogs WHICH WAS OBVIOUSLY A WASTE OF TIME GIVEN THE STATE OF THE SITE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In other news, for one of you lucky people, I fear the countdown may have begun.

Oh look Abis’ blog has just now appeared behind this window, so now I may take a half hour out of my life and try to post this.

Wish me luck.

Another place of quiet and slightly tipsy relaxation has been taken from me! A warm and cosy place where I drank many a chilled dry Martini and felt the aches, pains and stresses of the day depart. The snacks, which would be brought to you with the drinks where of the finest quality and helped with the general relaxing process.

Yes dear reader, Mrs F & Ships cooks Jacuzzi has died!

Now it is just a big bath.

Bugger!

In other news, I was just about to catch up with some blogs as I feel I have been out of touch with some of you. But the bosses boss is in today to do some more “one to one’” with the managers so I am going to have to work and look like I mean it.

In other other news – I miss Lyndljs morning blogs.

You know my beloved Pirate Zippo went missing two weekends ago right. Hunted high and low. No sign, presumed lost in forest.

Mr S walks into the front room of this here house and looks down and sees my pirate lighter lying by the sofa. He calls me into the room, assuming that I have dropped my replacement lighter out of my pocket. But no! this is the original lighter!

S&F had the furniture moved and looked everywhere when I lost it and now it turns up mysteriously out of nowhere.

Mrs F thinks the cats had it and batted it under the sofa when it fell out of my pocket. What with cats being part magpie and loving sparkly objects.

So Tolley and Cleo owe me the cost of one replacement zippo that I didn't need to get.

I love animals me.

Back from lunch and upon my desk was sitting the clip board with the "signing in" sheet on it. This is what we have to sign when we get here so, should the building burn down the responsible adult can tell if we made it out or not. I had missed signing it on Monday and today.

So I signed it.

Put it back where it lives.

Then I was told that I had not signed it for last Friday either.

Well.

One, it is a fire evacuation sheet - NOT a time sheet

Two, as I pointed out to the person who told me I should sign in for last friday

"If you can convince me that this building stands a chance of burning down LAST FUCKING FRIDAY, I will sign in"

I am not a damn time lord!

What is it with trousers and me? Well pockets to be more accurate.

When I was a nipper I was always wearing out the knees of my trousers.

When I was a teenager/twenty something I was always wearing out the knees, arse, thighs and groin of my jeans.

Now I seem to just kill off my pocket linings!

The trousers I am wearing right now are not even a year old, yet the right hand pocket has developed a hole. Bugger!

It is this sort of wear and tear that caused me to loose my first pirate zippo! Having only just got a replacement for that, the discovery of a hole in these previously secure lower body coverings leaves me worried.

OK it was my own fault for wearing a pair of trousers with knackered pockets but apart from that, they were totally serviceable and in an acceptable state to wear in polite company.

It may be due to me carrying stuff that I never did when younger – keys, lighter, mobile phone, lucky bit of bloodstone and mp3 player and such.

Either that or I have toxic legs.

Or both.

I officialy find this new site harder to navigate.

I have officially had some brekkie at my desk.

I am officially about to start work.

I am also officially putting it off.

I will be back later.

Thats' official.

As you were.

Get your cameras out darlinks! and just for the flat fish (halibut - ask Kizlode, it's an old band joke) take a picture of what is above you where you are blogging, and what is behind you and post it.

Yep, I know my dear 0.5 of a reader - this will get a reaction similar to the last time Geoffery Archer tried to play kiss chase but you gotta try something to get attention ain't 'cha!

Above

And (lurking just outside the door) behind

Your go.

In other news - this new site design. Can't find anything!

Going to bail out and get a train and find a bed somewhere and sleep.

May be about a bit later.

I feel like shit.

Meeting was long and dull and held in a fucking freezer!

I know it's humid out there but when we ask for the aircon to be turned down four times and you see us putting out coats on as we sit there THEN FUCKING TURN IT DOWN!

Loads of chat about how we are going to claw our way back, new products and services and such. No threats of job losses now but there will be some "natural wastage" at some point over the next couple of years.

Heard it before and such.

In other news I am so tired I am feeling like I am just dreaming all this and am still asleep somewhere.

Need to get over to S&F's and sleep.

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Yes, look - here I am at home! at this time of day.

Sarah is preparing for school by watching Captain Scarlet on the telly and I am in here bloggin1

Why no work. Well I am going in late today as I am dropping Sarah at school, Jo has gone off for her trip to lydisfarne, and I will get to work late but still in time for the big meeting. Where stern managerial faces will be in evidence, talk of "tough challenges ahead" and "changing marketplaces" yadda yadda fucking yadda.

This will be the third or fourth meeting of this type I have attended in the 17 or so years I have worked here and they all sort of blend into one grey mass of management speak. I may take a pad and pen and note down some of the more meaningless phrases - should help me stay awake.

Anyway, off now pin Sarah down and try to brush her hair ready for school.

Due to above mentioned meetingage, I may be a bit missing for most of the day.

I will attempt to get on here and let you know if I still have a job, and therefore a source of free blog access, later.

Have a good Monday people.

Just watched "Rome" on BBC2 (love that show)

Best scene?

Well leaving apart the naked flesh and poor unfortunate slave girls being bound and blindfoleded and shagged - disgusting (ahem) it was without doubt Titus Pullo walking across a square, all armoured up, to negotiate with another gang leader. The other fella does the "there is no reason why we can't do business together" routine against the backdrop of massed gangs armed to the teeth ready for a fight. Titus says nothing, shakes his hand then

BAM, nuts him, forces his mouth open and - in front of this dickheads assembled thugs - bites out his tounge and spits it at them!

Now that's entertainment!

this weekend but events prevented it.

I would go out in the garden for a ciggie but it is full of bastard flying ants and children. Well our garden has Sarah in it.

I would like to stop sweating but this damn humidity wont budge! Christ do we need a big thunderstorm!

Had a nice moody picknic in Hainault forest this afternoon. By moody I mean it was warm, with a sky filled with big threatening clouds and the sound of far off (but slowly getting closer) thunder. It was fun - I like weather like that. Sarah had a great time and we managed to walk around the lake and get back to the car just as it started to rain. Perfect timing.

And I would like to lie down and go to sleep.

For a long time.

Why I keep my mouth shut when I smile (or try to)

Because when I forget - I look fucking awful.

As you will know if you have seen the picture subs put up of my boat race in her media.

Oh well.

Picnic time.

I know it's late,
I know your weary,
I know your plans,
Don't include me....

Hang on a fucking minute! That's a Bob Seger song!

Stop it right now ya Llwnt!

Anyway, what I meant to say that the lovely and festoooooned with my good wishes Meno, has asked for piccies of feet. (methinks she am a secret perve!) but it is of course for another of her wonderful competitions.

So. here are my wossnames. Try not to scream.

Yeah, I know - hobbit toes.

Yeah I know, just what you expected from me!

Well I have to live down to my reputation.

Taken in kings college chapel, by our local correspondent. Before all the greek food and booze and FILTHY laughing kicked in.

Had a very nice lunch and afternoon type episode with S&F in that there cambridge place. Greek style lunchee thing and a pub stuff.

Subs is a very very nice person but is possesed with the dritiest laugh in the history of history!

The comment that set her off was as a result of me saying something about what Steve Vai did to his female cat under vets orders, and then recorded for the into to one on his songs. Mrs F then said "Well you not doing that to my little pussey"

And BINGO!

Subs roard with laughter for 10 minutes, and even snorted a little! hehehe.

So that was fun.

I would put up some piccies of her trying not to laugh but as this is not my pc I am not sure if it will let me do it. It's a problem of leads and such.

Oh, and on the subject of photos - Meno, I have taken a picture of my vile tootsies but am not sure if I can put them on blog for the same reason.

Sorry I have not been around since Friday afternoon, I must try and catch up on stuff soon.

In other news, I am NOT actually drunk.

I know - look at the time!

Who do you think said this:

"The faster you go - the more time slows down. This is a scientific fact. I spend my life driving quickly, which is why I have a 1970's haircut"

PS - no it was not me, I can't drive.

All the managers are out of the office, and it's Friday.

Well not a lot actually.

hehehehe.

Soon be pub o'clock.

Saturday, gather up my senses and head off to see the one and only Subberama in Cambridge with S&F

I am looking foreward to it, (but don't tell her - even though I will be mob handed I will still be nervous! eeeep!)

BUT (gets back into character)

As Pinhead in Hellraiser said

"We have such sights to show you!"

Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaa!

(just kidding, looking forward to the Greek food!)

Not that you give a rats ring, but I gotta type something to look busy.

Tonight will be - cooking, as yet don't know what. Could be spicey fishcakes or Burgers. Both home made from scratch and both very tasty. A comunal effort by Jo Sarah and me, in the kitchen with wine and loud rock music.

Saturday - up early and deposited via the black shuck to S&F's. We are off to cambridge to do, erm, well something. Cant tell you what because if I do, someone will kill me. Apparently. And then take a photo of it and photoshop it and blog it so you can laugh at my demise. Or something. Saturday evening will see me and S&F doing our best to empty the drinks cabinet. And as My Vox tonelab and little baby marshall amp will be round at their house, anyone with my mobile number is welcome to call and ask me to murder their favourite song, but this time with effects and a decent guitar sound!

Sunday - Go to bed. Get up and if weather is nice, get picked up by Jo and Sarah in affore mentioned Black Shuck and go for a picnic in Hainault Forest. If weather is shite, do something else. Maybe inflict ourselves on S&F and force Mr S to do some more cooking.

In other news.

I got my replacement Pirate Zippo yesterday! Yes I now smell of petrol and burst into flames without warning.

Have a wossname day everybody.

Light brown cargo type pockety trousers, high pressure water flow from taps, low mounted basin = recipie for trouser splash embarrasment!

BUGGER!

With anticipation!

Yurse my dear 0.5 of a reader, I have just remembered that Jo emailed me yesterday to say that "a small package arrived for you"

What could it be - that free sample of extra strong columbian marching powder from a shady friend?

A slightly bigger replacement for my own small package? (ahem)

A tardis envelope that actually contains a full size working version of the USS Nimitz to put in our pond?

NO, I suspect and hope with all my floppy wobbly dangly parts that it is my new replacement Pirate themed zippo lighter! (check my media for a piccie of the original one that I lost last weekend. In a fecking forest. Full of brownies. No, don't look at me like that, Jo and I were collecting Sarah from Brownie camp)

But

Yipppeeeeee!

Generally for once.

You remember that until recently I worked near Soho and have been moved to this damn depressing strip of tarmac boredom while the floor we used to be on is being refurbished right?

And I have before mentioned how much I miss the guitar shops, celebs, strip joints, nutters and general street theatre of being in that area.

Well the latest news is that the refurb is going well, there will be over 300 people on the first floor in some god awful open plan sprawl, and we get new designer (ie good for fuck all) desks.

The worst bit is - the twats are going to try that old chestnut "the clear desk policy" again!

Llwnts!

I can't do "clear desk" anything!

And when its policy it just gets my back up.

So I just leave more magazines, note pads, post it notes, old Valves (from amplifiers at home - best not to ask) and free cds' all over my desk.

It is a very childish response I know, but thats me all over.

But I still want to be back there. Even though I suspect that to go with the clear desk shite, they will start bitching about the notable lack of shirts and ties on our little team.

And that REALLY gets my back up.

in other news.

Distraction in my head continues apace. Cant focus on this rubbish today. Billowy shirt on standby.

I just returned from having a lovely Greek Marlboro outside our rain swept office.

For some reason I decided to take the stairs - we work on the forth floor. Or office has five floors

I must have had something on my mind, because I only stopped climbing when I ran out of stairs.

muppet.

As you will observe, my friends list is now at 70 instead of the more smut worthey 69.

See, I am not just a dirty minded old git.

My line manager got struck by lightning the other day. Well his house did, during one of the massive storms we had a couple of days back.

It basically fucked his phone, sky box and tv. So he called bt and got them to check the line - nothing wrong. Engineer came round to check the phone - fine. My manager takes diconnects the sky box and plugs everything back in without it and voila! it all works!

Now he did think he was on for a new telly to replace the £1400 quid led one that he thought had died, but whatever - all is well and his two teanage sons were happy again.

The very next day the two sons are playing tennis on the Wii, yep you can see this one coming cant you.

No, one of them did not let go of the controler but moved in towards the ball to return a shot - and stabbed the controler into the screen breaking the led's behind it!

So havind survived an "act of god" the tv dies through "act of offspring"

Don't know if his insurance covers that.

Are they like normal Revels but with a booze centre?

In other news.

I have nothing to say.

Thanks to brad for instructing me in how to get this up

ahem.

I know the hair is a bit optimistic but I could not find comic book guys hair, which is more like me.

FUCK RIGHT OFF!

As if London is not plauged by two wheeled pedaling bastards already, we have to turn the city over to these spanex clad cock jugglers for a day!

Wanna impress me with you bikes? DO IT DURING THE RUSH HOUR ON ROADS THAT ARE NOT CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC! SEE HOW MANY WHITE VANS YOU AVOID!

Then the survivors can fuck off over the channel and get on with their little race.

Well not really.

Doing Mr S's chicken pasta dish, with a CD of delta blues in the background.

Just seemed to be what I wanted to listen to. People wailing away with an accoustic guitar.

seemed - right, or something. Just what I was in the mood for.

In other news.

Later, I am sat on the sofa brushing sarahs wet hair. We are watching Thin lizzy live in Dublin, John Sykes is standing there on stage, blond hair all over the shop, cranking out the solo to Thunder and Lightning, and the strobe lights are going ten to the dozen.

I hear (or think I hear) sarah say -

"Those fucking lights are giving me a headache"

"Pardon darling!" I say as I lean forward

"I said, those flashing lights are giving me a headache"

Phew.

Our garden is full of squadrons of flying ants trying to take off and start a new life somewhere.

Hundreds of the little bastards all over the place! coming up from under the patio, out from the edge of the pond, out of the flower beds.

Like a bloody ant airshow!

There is a raft of crashed dead flying ants on the surface of the pond as the ones coming out from under the stones by the waters edge are not making a very good attempt at getting airborne, but at least the fish can pig out!

Makes me itch just thinking about them.

Anyway, gotta go and cook some food now. Hmmm and maybe a wee bit of wine.

Have a good sunday evening and stuff.

Where the blinking buggering flip is it!

I bet the guitars hid it, as they new I was going to fall on them with that mad look in my eye and a hot soldering iron in the other.

But I cannot find the damn stuff anywhere!

So my guitars will remain un-molested as far as swapping pickups about goes. But I am going to have to give them a damn good fingering to teach them a lesson this afternoon.

What? Well yes, technically that phrase above could be interpreted as smutty - but that is your problem not mine.

Finally managed to shift the hangover that hit me last night, and am now headache free but feeling a tad de-hydrated. Why do I let my friends lead me so astray? They are a bad influence on me.

What with me being such a basically clean living chap.

Enjoy the dregs of your weekends.

One more friend and I will have the magic smut number of friends

69!

I did have this number before some certain dark eyed and wonderfully nice persons FUCKED OFF!

No, no - I'm calm now.

Heeeeeeeeeeneey way.

So.

Need one more friend to get this number.

Now you can tell I am a leeeetle "with drink" as normally I would never ever beg for attention

(afuckinghem!)

But here am deee rules. (and excuse me if they piss anyone off but I am, as it were, off my manly hairy breasts)

No one under 20 - OK I know some a few of you on my freinds are under this age limit, and you are most welcome, but considering the amount of foul bollocks I spout, oh why explain - my blog my rules.

No one who does not leave a message - I have accepted friends in the past who have sent me blank invites, but that was only because I checked there profile and blog out first and thought "Well OK"

No one, who does not know who Lester Paulfus was (it's not hard - wikipedia him!)

No one who can lick their own elbows! Damn freak! (but send me a video any way, just so I can confirm your sickness)

No one who claims to look good in latex (without visual proof - OK I'm fishing here but so what.)

No camels, well I'm not being speciesist but for fucks sake I hate spitting! and dem buggers do it alot. Well they do when I'm near them. Hmmm.

No genetic mutants. If I can't kill you with basic sarcasm and bad puns and smut at full strength then, basically - I'm scared and need my teddy bear.

So,

erm

Sorry, what was I saying again?

Hic.

I don't know how to tell you all this. I am amazed I can actually bring myself to say this in a public forum and not in a very restricted friends only post.

But sometimes honesty is the best policy. Really hard, bare, brutal honesty.

It is the only way to get rid of all this, well basically seething mass of discomfort in the very centre of my being.

It has to come out now. here. and if it hurts or offends people then that is how it will be.

Afterwards, well things will be different, but how much of a change it will be will depend on the reaction of those closest to me.

But it will be, for me at least, an enormous relief.

well here goes.

Guys, friends and casual readers

I HAVE REEEEELY GOTTA GO FOR A PISS RIGHT NOW OR STAIN THE SEAT, CARPET AND PROBABLY SHORT OUT THE PC!

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

No actually, its TWO coke and whatevers, as Mrs F was not bold enough to delve into the realms of Mr S's sleepy post ice flow stagger into the drinks cabinet - which resulted in two fine and foaming Ouzo and Cokes!

Where is her spirit of adventure people!

Me, anything mixed with coke and ice is a freind of mine.

much to my regret the next day normally.

In other news, I have not tried to light a ciggie with my mobile phone in over two hours!

So yay for me and the sober party!

Or something.

Hmmm, I wonder if landers is awake and up for a phone call

MWAHahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaa!

Not at all am I with drink!

And how dare you sit there in your opium den and point THAT at me!

The very idea.

OK,

I will admit, that although I am totally imune to the alcohol contained in the Ouzo especials that we started the evening with, and the two glasses of chilled white wine, and the three or four glasses of Palinka (a fruit based hungarian drink of instant death) I seem to have gone a bit "silly"

Why else would I have tried to plug my zippo lighter into my phone charger and light a fag with my mobile phone.

Well, we all make mistakes!

As the doctor said climbing off Billie Piper.

ahem.

Due to the state of our tube system in jolly old London town, I will not be able to get the train over to S&F's, but will have to hang around on a street corner, trying to look cute and hoping some nice woman gives me a ride in her nice car.

ahem.

OK, truth is I am going to be waiting for Mrs F to pick me and shipscook up from near our place of work on the way back from her place of work.

Don't sound so smutty when you put it like that.

Oh well.

Has got to be the best title for a book of memories from your days in a rock band, ever.

Written by Mark Manning, aka Zodiac Mindwarp.

Just thought I'd share that with you.

What?

What did you think this post was going to be about?

And lunch time even, I am off to sit in the Angel and have read of my guitar mag and a drikie.

Now also as it is friday, it is probable that when I get back, one or more people on my friends list will have gone nuts and burned their blogs down and gone off into the wilderness (well if the past couple of weeks have been anything to go by)

So I would just like to say DON'T!

Well at least not till I'm back and if you have to, leave a note eh?

But not because of the smoking ban.

In a highly reliable bit of research carried out by me (i.e. chatting to the woman in the Tesco local who normally sells me my cigs) at this time of year sales of cigarettes go down, due to people coming back of their holidays with as many cheap ciggies as they can pack.

I bet the government will be claiming it as a victory for the smoking ban and patting themselves on the back like mad.

In other news, if the fella sitting next to me does not stop making his phone go "bingely bingely beep tweet bip!" I am going to kill him.

And I have nothing to say really.

ummmmmmmmmmm.

train was packed with displaced Central line commuters this morning as they still have not got the tube running yet. This will make my journey over to S&F's interesting as the central line is the one I need to use.

Fear not gentle reader, I will get there and be found drunk in charge of a blog and a Les Paul this very evening!

Bet ya can't wait. ahem.

Did things the other way round this morning - I did the work bit first and then the blog and as you can see, It was well worth the effort eh?

Well OK, I did swap a few emails with some friends first thing, on and off blog, but my work ethic was there in the background jumping up and down and waving to get my attention.

bastard thing.

so now, I have to do some more work to enable me to eff orf down the pub at lunch time with a guilt free soul.

I am now off home for a single malt and a quick thrash on my guitar, after which I may tickle Sarah till she makes a rude noise, and see what else the evening brings before the truly wonderous "House" comes on the telly at nine.

Have a good evening all you good people.

And you lot on my friends list as well.

Is a new phrase I have just coined for my present condition.

I have a case of the three O'clock fuckits!

Which means that I still have some urgent work to do, but in light of the time and my last post -

FUCK IT!

Just had an email circulated from our bosses bosses boss.

Inviting us to a meeting on the 16th of July to "discuss the future of the company" and our unit. Tough challenges, reshaping, pull togehter - you know the shit.

the meeting is at 10 till 02.30pm, so the pub looks like it will be doing a roaring trade at about 3.31pm.

Exactly how long does it take to say "you don't have a job anymore"?

In other news, I just saw a dog in the back of a flatbed builders van try to take a lump out of a biker going in the other direction! stupid dog, he would have been pulled out of the back of the truck if he had caught hould.

On with the work then.

Well,

erm,

Not reeeeeeeelly.

Just doing this to annoy Subs.

ahem.

Now I have to do one more thing (hehehehehe) and get on with the huge amount of work I should be doing in a work related not getting sacked styleeeeeeeee

A young blond woman!

Well my luck had to change at some point.

I looked at her, she looked at me.

"Well one of us is lost!" Said I

"Oh sorry, don't worry about it" she said and off she went.

And before you ask she was just washing her hands.

Still, it made me smile.

To the old office!

NOW!

I am fed up standing outside here for a cigarette adn watching huge bastard lumps of fuck all happening blowing by!

Not one even fucking minor celeb, not one NOT ONE SINGLE guitar shop! No cd or dvd emporium within easy lunchtime stroll. No where to buy any clothes I would even be seen dead in, No bars full of women in not much clothing,

Hang on, I have not even seen one single "gentleman of the road" staggering around talking to people only he can see! I've been here three fucking weeks and its driving me nuts!

No women of negotiable affection with brand new boobs, No agravating Hari Chrishnas (which is the only good point so far) No bands loading gear into venues and looking bleary eyed at the unfamiliar daylight. No one chatting me up in coffee bars.

GET ME BACK TO SOHO NOW!

It's a fucking DESERT!

OK, people say that if a black cat crosses your path it is good/bad luck.

Well this morning I crossed a black cats path, so what does that mean?

Is the cat going to have a shit day at the office?

Am I going to get locked in a garage for days with no food or water?

Well?

In other news, our pc went into llwnt mode last night so I couldn't play on here. Sorry for not responding to comments.

And anyone else really

Sarah made a little pottery labrador at her pottery club, and here it is.

I love the big red tongue sticking out for the bone.

The perfect dog? Well it dont' need walking, never barks and does not poo everywhere.

Enough of all this seriousness about this that and the public.

I once fell asleep while walking. Yes, actual one foot in front of the other, down the public highway walking. Two or three times in one evening actually.

I was a tad exhausted obviously and it had never happened before or since. I was walking along one night, lost in thoughts all soppy and romantic (well I had just walked my girlfriend home) and I just went! Woke up about a step and a bit later as I started to fall to one side. I caught myself luckily on all occasions but it is a real shock to wake from a deep sleep and rather than seeing your bedroom ceiling, you see a high street and cars and such. The first thought that went through my mind was “how the hell did I get here!” followed very closely by a quick check to see if I had any clothes on.

So, where is the weirdest or most embarrassing place you have ever fallen asleep?

What makes an ideal pub for lunchtime work avoidance activities?

Well for me there are a few things that help.

First it must be fairly near where I work so I can get there quickly – obvious really BUT it can’t be so near it will be full of people I work with. I want to escape this place for an hour, not have to chat about the crap I have to do and hear someone else spouting on about how they do it.

Second, the venue should have been a pub for at least one hundred years for preference. I can’t stand new pubs, especially those in the ground floor of office buildings or places that used to be supermarkets.

A decent view of the outside world helps as well. If your sitting there staring moodily at a wall people think your nuts. If you are gazing out of the window you just look like you looking. And people watching is always a good way to shut the noise in your head down, or just push it to the background.

I would say that good priced drinks should feature, but this is central London and lunch time drinkies are going to charge through your disposable income as a matter of course, so financial ruin is a given.

(Of course loud rock music and scantily clad rock chicks would be perfect, but I will have to just remember my lunchtimes in the old Intrepid Fox.)

I have actually found a place that fits these criteria round here. So why am I not there?
It is lunchtime after all.

A little thing called “work” has got in the way.

Oh well.

We all know about the thing that happened last night, but it got me thinking about friends only posts.

People do them for different reasons. Sometimes you don’t want every one who owns a computer to be able to see your news, rants or thoughts. I know the “joy” that can enter your life when your private posts are not private. Mind you I have also gone nuts very publicly on here but I have no shame/sense/am an attention seeking knob head.

And as we know, there are some bloody weird and creepy people out there. Someone I know had a very odd comment put onto one of their friends only posts by a stranger who seemed a little more strange than necessary.

I like the fact that I have made new friends on here and met some of them in the real world. We all like to meet new people, but some people on here don’t just want to meet them, they want to “meat” them – if you see what I mean.

So you have to be careful.

But then again, I am sure some of the comments I make on peoples blogs make me seem like a very creepy perv, but well you know what they say. The truth will out.

Or something.

Have you EVER met anyone with "Gorm"?

Have you been moved to say "By god they've got Gorm!" ever?

Niether have I.

But I sure have met tons of Gormless people.

because I am sat at my desk eating a big bag of chips fresh from the chip shop!

hahahahahahahahahaha!

The first pack of cheap greek ciggies has been broached.

Only 9,200 to go.

Shipscook may make a mean dish of stuff, in a greek style, but that tomato sauce stains rather badly.

As I noticed while a customer ranted in my ear.

I glaced down at my legs and noticed I must have dropped something while eating last night and at the inner top of my right thigh, righ near my groin, is what was appears to be a splash of dried tomato sauce.

Only it's now dried dark brown.

Looks well classy.

Wondered why the woman on the train was looking at my crotch so much.

eeeeep.

I have something shocking to report!

Shipscook has got a suntan!

so what you say, well Mr S does tend to spend all his holidays under a wide brimmed hat, and a sun umbrella, preferably in the shade as well. But this time he has got colour! this is unheard of!

As for moff, she is her normal shade of brown (she will have to give up being a gothy type soon I think, far too swarthy looking)

And as for Mrs F they are both very brown, erm I mean she is very brown. All over. Apparently.

ahem.

So last night Mr S cooked us a greek themed dish, with kebabs and stuffed peppers and such, and it was yummy and Mrs F made a chocolate mouse moose meece thing, the recipie for which she posted last night.

And a few drinks were consumed.

And all in all, it was all back to normal.

Aaaaaaaaaaah.

Have filled up the vending machine in our office.

And now I am craving a kit kat, fresh and cold to go with my hot black coffee.

Or a double decker.

Or a mars bar.

Or, oh god help me - A twix!

Meeeeeeeeeep!

I do NOT dream of Advocar!

Vodka maybe.....

S'load of bollocks if you ask me.

What sort of fictional character would you like to play in a film?
Tell us, give an example and explain why and tag five other bloggers to do the same.

Right if you can be arsed, copy that top bit into your blog when/if you do it. And a bit more explanation before you have a go. I don’t want to know what character you think is most like you, what would you like to pretend to be in a film and why? Would you be an action hero, a super villain, a romantic lead or a tragic figure in a billowy shirt (leave it! – ahem)

I think I would fancy being a pure evil, emotionless killing machine. A bit like the terminator I suppose. Totally unstoppable and with no redeeming characteristics at all.

This is probably because it would be nice to pretend to have no emotions for a change, and as I am very stoppable in the real world it would make a nice break to be scary and nasty.

Or something.

I tag.

AJ, Lyndz, Morelearning, Row, Mrs F.

(No friends only posts.)

It is Sunday and in a mad effort to fill up my least favourite day of the week, I am on here again with nothing to say for myself!

My fingertips on my left hand taste of metal!
Hmmm, a side effect of playing guitar they never tell you about. No don't mention it, it's my duty to bring these things to your attention.

We are having a bit of a fish weekend here at Old Nick towers. Yesterday we had trout, and today we are having haddock.

I think Jo is trying to raise the IQ so she can have a more intelligent conversation, rather than listening to me and sarah going "Whats' that smell - was that you!" like we normally do at weekends. Hardly mensa is it.

Anyway enjoy the remaining hours of the weekend.

I am off to watch the French Gran Prix on the telly, then (in light of my last post) I am getting out the Led Zep remasters CD, plugging in, Hitting the "Led Zep" setting on the tone lab and playing along till my hands hurt.

that should do it.

You all know the horror wich struck me at the awful news that the Spice girls are reforming.

AOL this morning tells me, and god I hope its true for once, that

LED FUCKING ZEPPLIN!

are to reform this year.

Please God let that be true.

With Jason Bonham on drums.

But of course this rumour comes round each year, but it would be nice if it does come to pass just to make up for the , no I will not type that womens groups name again.

Bet the tickets for the london gig will be astronomically priced.