Area 136

And my god did it taste good!

Oh yes! a 3 x 2 inch slab of Dark rich chocolate porn from Minerva's in Bath featuring a vair interesting position from a book called the Karma Chameleon. Or Sutra. Or something.

Anyway. It has been nommed now.

And much yumming was done.

Eh? What did you think I meant?

you dirty, dirty bastids!!!!!

Bacon and Eggs.

Leather Jackets and Motorbikes.

Broken limbs and plaster casts.

Canisten and itches down below.

Hayfever sneezes and broken ribs.

Dark Chocolate and Red wine.

I have had one of the things on this list tonight.

And as far as I know, Green and Blacks don't make thrush cream.

So I am happy.

Does anyone else find the ad for this game a little disturbing?

Not the fact that Slash emerges from the guy playing the game by pushing his arm out of the guys mouth and shedding him like an old skin, but the fact the slash looks a little, erm - pudgy, shall we say.....

Ah well.

At least HE still has all his hair.

And a ton of money.

And women.

And drugs.

And guitars.

and..........

oh fuckit.

Yes, OK - I admit it. I like graphic novels.

Which basically means I am too lazy to go buy a comic every whenever it comes out and also cant be arsed.

But I do get the odd compilation type thingey where they put seven or eight issues in one book.

The latest one of these I just got is the first volume in the "Preacer" series - "Going down to Texas"

Bloody great it was. Full of gun fights, blood, swearing, Angels getting drunk and swearing and threatening one another, a vampire, rednecks, Demons, serial killings, and a touch of "will they?, won't they?" romance, a preacher who lost his faith but now has huge power and a talking paper clip called "Wanga".

OK, I lied about the last bit with the paper clip.

Hey dont look at me like that.

I do also read proper books ya know........

But if I actually stumble over something like this, which in truth I had heard good stuff about, I enjoy it just as much as a regular book.

At the weekend. (clike to see full size.)

The pump room at Bath, where we had second breakfast/lunch.

In Bath cathedral

The two pictures of Bath EVERYBODY takes.

The interiour of the Raj Poot curry house, where EVERYBODY should go when in Bath

Saturday, the Chalice Well gardens at Glastonbury.

The ruined Abbey at Glastonbury.

So there. And don't think you have got off lightly....there are the poncey "lookit meeeeee, I is an photogramapher!" ones to go on the photography blog, and the friends only ones showing peoples boatraces that I may put up as well!

So ner!

Is basically what my weekend consisted of.

On Saturday we all left the Rancho Collapso and piled into Mrs F's other car and went a charging off in the direction of Glastonbury. Shipscook was on navigation duties (ahem) I was on nodding off duty and Sarah was on Nintendo DS duty.

The weather started out bright and sunny and then turned all manner of yuck. We had a stop off for refreshments and historical archeomalogical doings in Avebury, and due to the appalling windy and wet weather we decided that getting blown off the top of Glastonbury Tor was not going to be on the cards so we should head straight to Bath. Which we did.

It was there that I had to buy a new outdoorsy waterproof coat type thing, as my old one was still hanging on the banisters at the bottom of the stairs at Rancho collapso.

Then we did the pump room, vair posh - for coffee and second breakfast for certain hobbit types and some glasses of very smelly Spring water. We even had a piano accompaniment.

After that a bit more shopping then down into the subterranean wonder of the Raj Poot curry house. Oh man. Just go, its great - the food rocks.

Saturday and British summer time kicks in like someone had flicked a switch - great weather!

So off and up early to Glastonbury, and into the chalice well gardens just as they opened. Sarah got her bottle of spring water that she collected herself from the Lions head outlet, and we showed her around the Garden and took her to the well itself. It is just so relaxing there. I love it, so does Sarah.

Then into the town where I was forced at almost gun point into a cafe called "THE 100 MONKEYS" yes me, in a place called that. But it was good, great local beers and ciders and very good food. I even drank one called "Love Monkey", under protest mind.

And then a Walk round the ruins in the Abbey Garden, then home.

A busy weekend but it was fun.

And now your all bored I will bugger of but leave you with a warning.

Oh yes, there will be piccies later so be warned. More boredom ahead for you lot.

So there you are, with a brand new jar of instant coffee in front of you. You screw off the lid and are presented with the impossibly taut foil seal over the mouth of the jar.

Oh yes. How inviting is that? It just lies there and says, “Abuse me! Break me! DO IT!”

Ahem.

So, how do you go about it? Are you a practical sort and just stick your spoon through it? Do you use your finger to penetrate it (shudder of pervy pleasure) or do you do something else?

Me, I smack it with my thumb in a manor much like a mid 80’s slap bass player repeatedly till it breaks, then tear off the remaining foil and get to the granulated goodness inside.

I would of course rather have good filter coffee, but this is a crappy office.

And no, I am NOT weird.

In other news, I am shaking like a shitting dog. Nothing to do with coffee either.

"I had a dream last night that all the babies prevented by the pill came back. Boy were they pissed off"

Steven Wright.

To not smoke as much as I did yesterday.

To stay awake after a late night and some wineage.

To learn how to use a new computer programme for work.

To not swear at my computer telling me its low on virtual memory.

To not call people wankers when they use the lift to go from the ground floor to the first.

To not let the monkeys land.

But I am going to fall flat on my face with the smokey thing as I am in desperate need of a ciggie because the woman with the annoying voice is yakking rather loudly and its far too early for that sort of torture.

You know the voice people do when they are taking the micky out of someone with a Brummie accent?

There is a woman in our office today who talks in that voice naturally.

meh.

Hope your day is filled with good cider and cheap women cigarettes

Have a good one.

I has the things to do.

I have a report to investigate and jig around with.

I have a new computer programme thingey to learn how to use. By the end of the week.

I have a number of reports to attack and finish off, which gives me the right to send emails to people who earn a lot more than I do and have a gentle go at them to enquire why they have not done anything yet. Which is always fun.

But.

Meh.

Just spotted music celeb baiter and bitch extrodinare Simon Amstell outside, you know - the presenter of "Never Mind the Buzzcocks"

Two things, he is the same hieght as me (which for some reason is always a suprise, I always assume people on tv are taller...) and he is even thinner in real life than on the tv!

Oh well. I knew you'd be impressed.

Back to work.

Do you do that? Do you give an inanimate object a name?

I know that some of you out there have given your cars names, but what else have you given a moniker to?

The only “things” that I have that would be worthy of a name are my guitars, but so far I have never really done it.

I remember once on holiday in Corfu, I named the mountain bike I had hired for the day “Marchant” after a bicycle in a Robert Rankin book, but that’s about as far as I got with the giving things names lark.

And is the naming of cars thing more of a female trait? Do you male drivers give your cars a little something to call them by? Or are they all called “Start ya bastid!”

Anyway you can tell I am bored.

I am also bloody freezing!

So tell me what you have named and why?

OK, that was the long weekend over, and now I sit here waiting for the blogs telling me how well it went, how stationery it was, how howl inducingly mental it was, how stuffed with chocolate it was........

And so on.

I would tell you about mine but I have done already.

And as nothing blog worthy happened on the way to the office I am waiting for you lot to entertain me.

I will say this though, its a bit odd here without Jacobite sitting behind me. I hope his new job goes well.

Now, as this pc is being a bit sluggish I am going to go do the deletion of cookies and disk cleanup and defrag routine that always takes ages. I am not doing this to avoid work you understand, but to enable me to work quickly and efficiently.

Mind you if they would just get me a new pc........

I will not be holding my breath for that one.

I would like to say a few things.

But if you are not on Mrs F's friends list you won't know what sparked this off.

We, the chaps of this abode, were doing the channel hop with the remote - as ya dooooo - and we found something that looked like it would go well with our large glasses of red wine.

A film on five US called "Indecent Behaviour 4" that was prefaced with the warning "contains nudity and bad language from the start"

Hmmmmm.

Lets just check this out. The title "Indecent Behaviour" - not bad, a mix of a couple of other films, a hint of naughty rude stuff. But FOUR! if I had never heard of the first one (which I had not) is there any law of sequels where the higher the number the better the content? I THINK NOT!

So. Mrs F is in here in the computer room and she can hear myself and Shipscook laughing and saying "they dont move, they are soooo plastic. Mind you she has a good arse!" and the sound of some not very convincing female moaning and assumes that we, the two most pure and upstanding bloggers you could ever wish to find giggling in the corner of a strip club bar, are actually watching PORN!

Well bah and tish!

In my dictionary (and large blue box of naughtyness) porn is filled with way less plot, much more explicit close up camera work and far less bloody silicon!

I mean, some of the characters actually are doing that acting thing! they were talking to each other and developing a PLOT! that, ladies and gents IS NOT PORN!

If you see two characters in a two consecutive scenes and they still have not had intimate knowledge of a number of each others orifices and a few household implements then frankly - the producer needs shooting.

So.

Shipscook and I are not guilty. We are just watching a crap film full of plastic boobs and pert arses.

No harm, no foul.

ahem.

More wine Vicar?

Just check in just to ease your cold turkey shakes from being deprived of my fantasticly entertaining witterings, my poor neglected 0.5 of a reader. Am I good to you or what!

Soooooo, the weekend so far. As those of you that can access Mrs F's blog will know, Sarah has been with us since Thursday night and just went back to mummy today. Just managed to arrive home in a hail storm and once Sarah was delivered I had great fun loading a Marshall 2x12 speaker cab, a big storage box of assorted tat of mine and a small flight case full of power leads into Mrs F's car, along with about two pounds of ice in the form of said hail.

On Friday we trekked to Walton on the naze to see what we could see and hunt for fossils on the beach. When we got there the weather was foul. And I dont mean if consisted of pheasants and partidges, it was COLD, windy and generally in black and white. So we ducked into the amusment arcade on the peir and I had to take Sarah on some rides and such. Then we had to go have a warm up in a hostelry (ahem) then we found one of those fantastic Fish and Chip restaurants that only seem to exist in coastal towns. The fish was fantastic and we all had a good feed up.

Then down onto the beach and hunty hunty for fossils. And by golly we found some! A few bis of fossilised wood and a couple of ammonites (if that is not spelt right, blame Mrs F for wandering out of yelling range) Then home via a garden centre (!) that had a display of ickle chicken chics and lambs - live ones, not stuffed and all deeeed, well it made Sarah happy and that is the main thing.

Today we changed our plans due to the weather being even more changeable and cold and went out to yet another bloody garden centre that has an aquatic shop in it to get Sarah some fish. She got a nice little fantail and some form of loach to clean the tank, and they are now keeping the Moffs only remaining gold fish company. Sarah is dead chuffed.

After the fish buying we came back and varnished the shells and fossils sarah had collected and went to lunch in the Cafe Rouge while they dried. Sarah actually ate quite a lot, as she has all weekend. Its hard to get her to eat a full meal - she seems to be more of a "grazer" but I think she is getting better.

Now she is at home with mummy and we have just seen a humungous firework display in one of the neighbours gardens that must have cost a smallish fortune, seriously impressive explosive firepower there next door dooods! light up the sky or what!

So now we are going to eat some home made Kebabs and have a nice relaxing drinkie. or two.

So far its been a good weekend.

The only problem being that now the Marshall 2x12 is here, and the Marshall 20/20 valve power amp is here (which is fupping deafening - loud enough to cope with the most heavy handed of drummers even) and the Vox tonelab has been here for weeks..........

If I link them all up tomorrow, I could REEEEELY make the neighbours jump!

No no. Must be good. Because the neighbors here never make any noise.

Oh hang on....

MWAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!

I sit and I brush Sarahs hair, which is still streaked with various colours of natural fairness and light, which some people would kill or pay lots of money for, after she has emerged (or been lifted by evil daddy who needs to get her out of the soft bubbly lovelyness she is sploshing around in) from her bath at Rancho Collapso.

I am working away on this long train of multicoloured stuff, being careful not to hurt or pull the hair and such, and it is beyond me how it seems that birds and mice and all sorts of creatures have been nesting in her heeeed and platting her hair into nests WHILE SHE HAS BEEN IN THE BATH!

So after half an hour of working away at it, trying not to hurt or pull or tug, I say in exasperation:

"Is your hair made of bloody velcro?!"

Sarah looks over her shoulder calmly and says, cool as hell -

"Yes..."

Dammit!

She makes me laugh so much.

So.

I have to drag myself the 60 yards over the road to the pub, through some slightly damp weather to have a farewell drink with you know who.

Of course I don't want to go!

What do you take me for?

Ahem.

yeah I know, I cant wait to get out of here really.

So I hope you all have a spiffing weekend whatever it has in store for you.

I am amazed at the amount of people in this building that use the lift to go up or down one floor!

OK, there is a Mezzanine level between each one so there four flights of stairs between each floor - but come on!

Are we all not supposed to be getting more excercise to stop the wave of obesity that is sweeping the nation (apparently)

OK, if you have asthma or a bad leg or some medical condition fine, use the lift to go one floor. But I dont think that one bloody cup of overpriced coffee is such a heavy load that the lift is needed.

Unless they are making those takeaway cups out of lead these days.

Lazy bastards!

Some people on my friends list have written about having Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and how it impacts on their lives.

I consider myself lucky to not suffer from this – and I am not gloating at all.

I have always had the wonderful ability to be happy or depressed whatever nature is chucking at me. It really makes no difference.

I have felt lonely and depressed on a sun bed by a wonderfully sun warmed pool, and found myself grinning like an idiot as I get soaked to the skin on a long walk home late at night. The weather is never an issue.

In fact one of the most laugh inducing journeys I ever took was on a motorbike with the late Mr Kelly in the pouring rain. We left the flat of S&F to head over to Kizlode at his parents place in north London and the sky was ominously black and threatening. From the moment he kicked the bike into life until the moment an hour later when we turned into the road where Kiz lived it hammered down! Our jeans were so wet no more water could soak into them and it just sat on the surface, our leather jackets were sodden and dyed our t-shirts with black patches of dye. We laughed nearly all the way there.

It was even funnier when kiz provided us with two pairs of his mums trousers to wear while our jeans and jackets steamed on a radiator, as his mum was rather “large of stature”. Kiz has a picture somewhere of Mr Kelly and myself both in one pair, each of us standing in an individual leg.

And as I said above, I have felt empty and cold and dead while lying in bright sunlight and blistering heat. Just wishing I didn’t exist.

It’s never the weather. It’s what is in my head. Who needs SAD when you have that ability?

I would rather be doing what I did yesterday early evening to wind down from the wind up of doing lots of pack....sorry soy. Doing the putting things in boxes stuff.

I want to be sat with my guitar and amp having dug out a few old FX pedals and have a play along to the random songs on my mp3, while having a nice cold vodka based drink.

Getting better at playing guitar has to be better than sitting here till my arse goes numb eh?

EH?

I am only in the office for a half day today!

Yay for team "using up annual leave before the end of the leave year"! But I may have to change the name of the team as its a bit of a mouthful. Buy hey, I am team principle so I can do what I like. A bit like Ron Dennis. Without the spying and stuff.

anyway.

After yesterdays manic chucking and hiding and packing of stuff I have a few aches and pains. But todays plan should ease them.

So this morning I will email someone in one of our other offices to try to get some information out of them that will enable me to actaually do the thing they asked me to do.

Then lunch time will find me over the pub with a departing work pal who is off to pastures new. We will sit and talk of all the great times we have had here. So thats the first five minutes conversation sorted. Then we will probably just have to talk about YOU! hehehehehe.

Then I will leave my buddy int he company of the other workers who will hopefully join us as the afternoon progresses and go home to eat, and after that get Sarahs stuff for the weekend packed (aaargh! not more bloody packing) as it is then over to S&F's.

Friday we are hopefully going fossil hunting and wildlife spotting on the coast. Saturday going to some place where they have a working celtic farm. You know, people in costume doing stuff. It's edumacationamal and should be a laugh.

This is of cousre all if the weather permits. We will find something fun to do whatever happens.

Hope you all have something to look forward to this weekend, even if its only sex and drugs and rock and roll.

I never knew I had so much shit! one and a half bin bags of total rubbish and the room is still a mess. And I have no bloody storage boxes! must go and buy some soon.

The plan is to try to hide whatever is left in a storage unit that I have just manhandled down the stairs single handed.

Which will be covered artistcally with a throw, on top of which will sit the stereo.

But it still looks like a bomb sight in here so I had better get on.

I am fucking knackered and in need of another coffee.

To almost borrow a phrase from "Jaws"

"S&F, your gonna need a bigger house"

Sorry guys.

I promise not to get married or separate or have even a slightly meaningful relationship ever again.

Honest.

I am a law breaker baby! A bad ass no good dooooooood even. As Vertigo Mortisjointesen (you know, him that was strider in LOTRs films) in that recent movie about Russian mafia blokes in london "Stay avay from people like me"

Why.

I is talking to you via someone elses wireless connection!

I is living on the edge baby!

OK, I am just putting off doing what I should be doing and being a dickhead.

But little things please little minds and all that.

Meh.

Today I am at home having the day off thing. But I am not lounging around doing nothing. Well yes, right NOW I am - but I wont be soon.

I will be in a flurry of bin bags and boxes, trying to make this music room look less like a tip, ready to get the photos of the house taken and get it on the market.

Oh yes, just call me Bad Timing boy. Only I could need to sell my house at the time of an impending property crash. That is how life is I suppose. My timing is so bad, if I was blessed enough to get a flat share with Agelina Jolie I would move in on the week she decides to become a man and have the op.

And no, the Neil/Row transformation was not my fault. He did that before I met him.

ahem.

In other news, this lappy saw an unprotected wirless internet connection this morning. I was soooooo tempted, but being a non geeky sort I was scared that they would be able to know someone was using it and there would be a banging on the door and shouts of "Stop theif" and such. I mean, would they know?

Stop it!

Bad man. Musn't.

So I think I will finish my coffee as I squint at some posts and then get started packing and chucking the icredible amount of old rubbish valued possesions in this room.

Later peoples.

Write a post about how cool and good it felt to be sitting here on my borrowed laptop, blogging from my beanbag while drinking wine and listening to the radio in the candle light.

But for some reason (a very good reason that a lot of you will know by now) all I can think about is mortality, loss and how cruel the world can be at times.

And I am thinking about Sarah.

I know I am not the only person thinking these thoughts tonight, thoughts about a friend and how they are doing, what the hell must they be going through and so on.

And I am sure (and I know from a few phone calls from other equally shocked and upset bloggers that this is true) I am not the only one feeling like totally fucking useless.

If you read this Abi.

If there is anything I can do..........

xxx

I have just had the misfortune to have to give in and use the main toilet up here on the fourth floor of weird inc.

This hell hole is not normally the most fragrant of places and certainly not a location you want to be breathing in big lungfulls of air. And just now when I attempted to use it something was most certainly off. But I foolishly braced my nose and went into a cubicle.

Oh god did I pick the wrong one. There was nothing lurking in the pan but this particular cubicle was the epicenter for a smell so vile, I nearly threw up on the spot.

So I went straight down stairs and into the traffic fumes to fill my lungs with a ciggie. Felt much better after that.

But...

When I came back up I discovered that the evil EVIL waft is spreading along the corridor out there.

I am SOOOO glad I can leave here in 40 minutes!

Bet your all so glad I shared that with you.

I need to remind myself that in June I will be warm.

Because I will be here.

No, not hanging from the bottom of a high flying plane looking down, but on that island.

Having veiws like this

And this,

Inflicted on my eyes.

And wondering how they got the beach that colour.

Hmmmm, feel a little bit warmer now.

They can’t even afford chauffer driven cars these days. Not even a cab!

Yes my dear 0.5 of a rather disinterested reader, whilst out front having a ciggie I beheld Sir Paul “Wacky Macca thumbs aloft” McCartney walking down the street. Even though he was wearing dark Aviator shades, every one he walked past stopped and did a double take and mouthed “That’s Paul McCartney” to themselves.

And Sir Paul was talking on his mobile as he strolled. I over heard a bit of the conversation.

“No, no. She wasn’t – no”

I wonder who he was talking about?

I broke one of Mrs F's teeth.

Some pork was involved.

Some rather hard pork.

Ahem.

I did this on a bit of paper while waiting for my pc to wake up, some time last year. I posted it but I don't think you were on my friends list or on blog even.

Just to show you my ham fisted scribbling styleeeee.

A cartoon self protrait.

Well, yes it is rather flatering, as my nose is actually bigger and I have less hair on the top of my head, but whatever.

The wireless pc that Jacobite lent me can sometimes actually find S&F's wirless network but has trouble connecting. Not that it matters as neither Mrs F or Shipscook could remember the password so I could connect on the one occasion the lappy made contact. So no bed blogging for me. Oh well.

And there seemed to be a little spike in "drunken females texting sillyness" last night, indicating amazing levels of intoxication at quite an early and unladylike hour of the evening.

ahem.

And no, to be fair to Sarah, I did not get up and watch the qualifiying in Australia live. I got the grid order from the morning news. BUT I WILL be up at 03.30 in the morning to soak up all the lovely F1 goodness......

oh yes.

Just back from dropping Sarah back with her mum after a very fun and sucessful day at Chessington world of Adventures.

Sarah really enjoyed it, we took her to look at the Vampire ride first and she said "I am NOT going on that" but we checked that she was tall enough first, and she was. Good job we did.

So then Mrs F decided to work up to things slowly, first taking Sarah on a Merry-go-round with the horses on poles that go up and down slowly as you go round. Very traditional. Then she took her on some truck things that ran around a track making happy beeping noises. Sarah liked that.

Then it was time to move up a bit. At Sarahs suggestion, I had to take her on a ride that was basically a Waltzer but with little sailing ships for carriges - its a pirate thing, you wouldn't understand. Ahem. These went round fast and up and down alot then spun round. Went on that one three times over the course of the day.

Then we went on a junk style barge thing that slewed back and forth all over the shop, which she liked.

Then we hit Dragon River, basically a big water splash slide thing, which made Sarah scream but she loved it. We got a little wet and Sarah got a key ring with a picture of her and me hurtling down the water flume (you can just see sarahs eyes staring out of her totally zipped up Cagool if you look closely)

Then we did the Runaway Train. Which is fast and twisty and a good preparation for the vampire I felt. So did Sarah.

So we went. Sarah was now getting excited by the prospect of zooming around with nothing below your feet, suspended from the overyhead track in a sort of fighter pilots chair. We went on and she laughed and screamed her head off. We came off and she said "I WANNA DO IT AGAIN! NOW DADDY!"

So we did. It was great.

Sarah got herself a little trophy in the gift shop that said "I survived the Vampire at Chessington" to prove how brave she was.

We also got a chance after all that to see a Sealion show, look at the tiger and its cubs, see the Lions being liony - which basically means yawning and laying on their backs, went through the new sealife centre which has only opened this year and then the rain hit quite hard.

So it was time to go but by then in was nearly five and we had had a long fun day.

I am now knackered and I think I can feel the bruises from all the shocks my bum and sides took on all those rides.

And it looks like Sarah wants to go again.

I'm sorry, but thanks for the pm. You did NOT just pop into a dating sight and see my profile, because my profile does not appear on ANY dating site!

So don't say the old "send email and photographs" malarky and all that gubbins because I am not falling for this rubbish.

this is the third PM based message of this kind I have had recently, the other two being the old standards that a lot of us have gotten with the "Remember, distance age and colour are no limit to love" or whatever on the end.

I don't know what the point of this stuff is or how they get to us via pm's but it is very annoying.

Grrr and such.

venty venty.

Might have to write another bunny episode.

Well it keeps me out of trouble.

If you don't count guitar stuff, I am not much of a gadget head reeeeely, but still-

1. What gadget could you not be without?
Boringly enough, my phone. It has recieved messages that have made me happy, sad, laugh out loud and even cry. Bastard thing! think I will have to smash it now.

2. What gadget do you not own but wish you did?
My own personal Terminator. Very useful.

3. What would be you ideal secret agent gadget?
Something that would give me the martial arts skills of Bruce Lee at the touch of a button.

4. Which gadget would you like to have invented?
Velcro. Is that a gadget?

5. The next big thing will be...?
Whatever comes out after HD TV. Soooper doooper high wonder stunnorama TV. Then replacement Eyes that can actually see in HD. I think its a load of bollocks anyway.

This weekend the plan is to take Sarah to Chessington World of Adventures

Yes, we are going no matter what the weather and we will be having a good time!

Now it will be like old times when we go there because the last time I was there was back when the Moff was Sarahs age. I used to be press-ganged into going by S&F, as they hated going on all the big scary rides that Moff wanted to go on, and I “grudgingly” went on them with her. That’s what Godfathers are for right? Now I don’t think Sarah is as fearless as the Moff was but I am hoping she may “need” me to take her on something scary. Like the Vampire (if its still there).

Of course if Sarah does not fancy them I wont force her to go on, I may just have to own up and go on one on my own. Like a bid sad Billy no mates kid.

As Rush once sung. I started the working day by making Jacobite jump out of his skin – all I did was walk up to my desk (which is behind him) and say “’mornin’” but so stealthy was my approach that he was shocked. And called me a “Bastid!”

I felt guilty about that when I realised that he had also done something very very nice for me. He had brought in his wireless laptop for me to use! He said it was just sitting at home doing nothing so I could borrow it till I can get something sorted out at “home”. Personally I think he is sick to death of hearing me whinge about the turgid and rank pc and not being able to blog from home. See – whinging works!

This also means that I may be able to join the ranks of the bed bound bloggers if S&F let me have the password to their wireless modem thingeymabob. Or even the toilet.

Bet you can’t wait for that.

Anyway may I just say that although Jacobite is an excellent swearer and can give the impression of being an angry Glasgie heeder, he is a very nice and generous bloke.

He is also the one that gave me the new Razor phone thing as he didn’t need it and my old phone was a bit knackered.

So in short, he is a top man.

And I has wireless laptop borrowment joy. I HAS IT!

As I exited the lift that transported me down from my fourth floor loft/garret office at weird inc. and stepped into the palatial foyer we mantain here, I was suprised to see two young chaps bound in handcuffs.

"I had no idea the bondage club was on a thursday" I thought to myself.

Then I noted that every single doorman I have ever seen on duty here was miraculously in attendance and loafing about/having a good stare, and the four other chaps in plain clothes with those curly earphone things in which marked them out as coppers.

No loud voices where heard and all was calm, notepads were in vogue and scribblings were being done.

No, I didn't ask what was going on. My brain is not fully up to speed yet - but I will ask one of the door bods tomorrow.

That is the most interesting thing that has happened all day.

Sad innit.

Well.

I am crawling towards humanity. Slowly slowly, drinkie water. Then something else.

But this morning has shown me a valued truth I had forgotten.

But,

I, erm, seeeeeeeeeeeeeeem to have forgotten it again.

Ho well.

Firstlymost, I never new I has so many guitar, power and audio leads. Or boxes for missing FX pedals that are at someone elses house. Or old receipts for guitar stuff. Or fx pedals I have not seen in years. or dust.

Yes, attempting to clear out the music room last night generated a big black bin liner full of old guitar parts and other rubbish and knackered me.

Secondlyabout, I was thirsty so I had some Jamisons whisky.

Thirdlyinst, at the end of "Enter the Dragon" (which I decided to watch as my pc was not going to let me blog) Why does Mr Han just say "All of you! GET HIM!" and set all of the hundreds of pyjama wearing lads on Bruce instead of waving them at him three at a time?

Forthlyable - unless I stop feeling this rough - it must be the cold not the whisky I consumed last night, I will probably sit and try not to die for the rest of the day.
So if I don't blog it is not because of the new world order here, but the battle to stop my heeed going bang and my insides coming out.
It must have been bad. I didn't have a cigarette until 09.30.

In other news I am no longer shaking like a shitting dog.

We used to have cleaners in this office I think?

I mean proper cleaners, years ago. They used to actually clean your keyboard and such.

My keyboard is a disgrace - filthy actually. I get crud under my fingernails just from typing! you'd think I worked in a garage sometimes. And yes I do wash my hands regular.

And yes I could clean this thing myself but I don't have the necessary stuff....whatever that is.

and yes I am bored! hence another award standard post. Ahem.

Oh bollocks to it.

soon be lunch time.

Have this.

Right across the top of my email page this morning was an advert featuring a rather splendid pair of boobs in an interesting bra, and next to these wonders was the phrase "Gorgeous bras in 40J, who would have thought it"

What a way to start your day.

In other news I found a great badge for "neil"

Which sort of ties in with the theme nicely I think.

Is everybody working hard today then?

I'm not. I'm bored, bloody freezing (thanks to my temperature) and dripping from the nose regions.

So bloody there.

Meh.

Just for you on your birthday, enjoy!

Happy Birthday!

XXX

I get strange urges in quiet places.

Like big echoey art galleries where everyone is being respectful and keeping it down, or like a couple of weekends ago in the grounds of monestery in Bruges, anywhere where you have to be "shush"

I get an overpowering urge to do the start of "The Bananna Boat Song" by Harry Belefonte at full blast!

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYO!"

I just caught myself gazing across the office and thinking "that girl in the red top has fantastic breasts.."

So maybe I am getting a bit better.

Maybe its just the coffee kicking in.

But in other news its still all Meh on the western fromt.

Is so that they would not assume I was hungover and unable to work due to duntage.

I actually have that stinking cold thing that is going round, I was shivering and feverish last night - cue weird short dream repeating around in my head all night - and felt a bit shite this morning.

But I have battled through the screaming winds and horizontal rain to get here, and I even have some work to do.

Bugger.

There is a intermitant booming sound on this floor when the wind picks up, we are on the fourth floor and the wind can be heard quite clearly blasting around outside.

Which will make having a ciggie interesting.

Sorry, just wanted to say goodmorning and am now back to boring for england.

Right.

Waddid I get for my birthday?

Many good things, the highlight being a small hand made pottery rattlesnake from Sarah.

Yep, I behaved like a knobhead last night, left a few rambling voice mail messages on peoples phones and even called someone up to drink at them live. They were so pleased. Sent a few silly pictures via my phone and generally had a great birthday.

Also we have just got home from meeting with notbob in Greenwich. Much hilarity was gained from Mrs F going round the pub staring at blokes till they got scared and saying "Are you not bob?" which can only be answered with "yes....don't kill me"

Mr bob of the not did something sneaky - he had removed his facial hair so he could stealthily approach us. Cunning eh?

We chatted, we drank, we went for a Chinese meal and we took him up to the top of the observatory hill for a gander at the view. The sunlight was just slanting across the sky before sunset and it looked fantastic up there. I am sure Rob will post some piccies.

Then, well yes - we came down and had another drink!

All in all a good day with good company, but I am now very very very tired.

It has been a hard drinking weekend

I is off to find a sofa and a cat

And maybe just an small hair of the dogs.

or a small pack of them.

Well,

yes.

ahem.

ouch.

Sssssssshhhhhh.

Alot.

Thank you.

Here I am.

Sat draped in billowy black stuff.

With a stupid amount of tom on.

And possibly for the first and last time "the black billowy shirt of piraty Edinburghness"

And, shock news here campers, as my burrrrfdaaay has passd,

I am still dressed as an tit.

Actually,

I am, to use a technical term, Wankered.

And dressed as a pirate.

Which makes it all the more sad.

But do I care?

NO! BECAUSE AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED, UNTIL I SLEEP IT IS MY BIRTHDAY.

And of course any delusions about looking good and not being bald and old can be forgotten because I may or may not be in full on Cap'n nick mode.

But....

that would be soooooooo childish...

and so unlike me.

Cheeses and Whiskey!

That's what what I meant.

I am sitting here you lovely 0.5 of a reader, with a small plate in front of me with some fantastic Calvados flavored cheese on it, plus some whiskey flavoured cheese, some oat biscuits to go with, and a generous glass of JD.

Oh yes.

So far my day has stuck to the plan outlinded in my previous post. With a few pleasant suprises. The JD I am drinking was given to me by Jo, who really didn't need to get me anything but it was nice of her.

Thank you to all of you that sent me texts, even YOU who woke me up in revenge - you white rabbit chasing person you, and the misguided young woman that thought pictures of cute rodents/guins/hamsters - whateverthebloodyhell they were would make me jump with joy. But it all made me smile and feel happy. And YOU, yes you...The cute teddy bear E-card???

You callin' me a whimp! EH!

Thank you as well.

And all of you. Its touching. Not in a naughty "Gary Glitter" way, just in a nice way.

AAAAAAAAAAAAANY WAY.

Time to dress for dinner.

What?

Well yes, maybe there will be a certain amount of billowy shirtage,

What that? that is just a black pencil that Mrs F has just found for me. What? Well Yeeeeeeeeeees, it could, in theory be used to darken the area surrounding my eyes.

But for christs sake.

I'm 45 years old, do you think I would now, at my advanced age, get dressed up as a pirate JUST to get some use out of the black billowy shirt I purchased last time I was in Edinburgh.

Bah, you blogworld, misjudge me.

Ahem.

(Mrs F will be selling incriminating photos from 02.30 onwards, knowing her)

OH OH OH, Just remembered - Sarah made me a little Clay rattlesnake curled up on what looks like a giant lilly pad for my birthday, it has it's tail up and its tongue out and just under its head on said pad is a small brown lump, "Whats that sarah?" "Its a dead mouse!" - Dinner is served Mr Snake

I love her.

Tonight - Go to S&F's and do things to a guitar to annoy shipscook while we await the arrival of Mrs F, and then at some point ickle Sarah.

Hug Sarah much, eat, drink (in moderation) and be merry and play cards with Sarah and all others in the house whilst sitting in a candle lit room listening to da rawk and rolls stuff from the "Gramaphone" of Mr S.

Tomorrow

Wake up, eat brekkie and open cards and stuff. Have morning being silly with Sarah and Shipscook while Mrs F gets hair cut, then take Sarah home to mum so they can go to lunch.

Go to French restaurant with S&F, stuff face. Go home with S&F to Rancho collapso and act like an tit. Get drunkely. Possibly get new black billowy shirt out and take the pirate for a run round the garden. (have to get at least ONE wear out of new shirt before the hair comes off no?)

Wake up on Sunday morning shortly after going to bed. Eat breakfast in said bed and hope Cookie makes no references to bodily functions and cat chunder as he serves this time.

Wash and put clothes on (checking eyes for remains of, erm, stuff. Of a black nature) Follow S&F in zombie like or still drunk state to Greeenwhich and meet Notbob. Try not to scar him for life mentally. Try not to drink too much. Try not to be loud.

Go home.

Drink lots of water and eat some more food.

Go bed.

End of weekend.

Bugger.

And it's Friday.

Why me.

Oh well.

I want to go outside and smoke my last Ziganov black cigarette and look moody.

Because they is yum!

so

I think I will.

I read a letter in the metro this morning form a chap who was talking about Jack Nicholson. He said that in his opinion the reason Jack is such a hit with the women is not because he is charming or famous or even a rich film star. He said it was because Jack always tells people what a terrible womaniser he is and how bad he is, and they love it. (mind you – he also said that he had adopted this tactic with women and he is now awash with offers)

So that would be the old good girls liking bad boys thing then?

Is this really true?

Do you women find yourself attracted to “Bad boys” or do you want the “Nice boys”? And why?

And Guys - do you want a “Good girl” or someone who is a bit more dangerous?

I am sure many people out there have fallen for the “wrong type” at some time, whether they were good or bad? Either someone that was too wild for you or someone who turned out to be too dull.

God I’m nosey today.

The "speaking text" function on landlines is a great source of amusment in general - I have set text orders for drinks from my bed to shipscooks landline phone in the mornings and he never ceases to be amused by the tonless flat female voice saying "I am thirsty dear boy. Send me a Bloody Hell Mary please" or something.

ahem.

But do it to someones phone in lolcat speak and it sounds even better

"I is in your spare bed I is. I is with thirst. It hurts us it does. Send boozes soon or we dies we does."

All in that flat expressionless voice.

Well it makes me laugh anyway.

Reading Shipscook yesterday talking about ticket re sales reminded me of something I heard on Planet Rock.

There is (or was) a website somewhere that was guaranteeing to sell you tickets to see Led Zep if they decide to tour again. You could log on and buy your right to a ticket to a gig or series of gigs that may not actually happen. Yep BUY the possibility of a ticket.

If anyone out there actually did this, please contact me.

I have some magic beans for sale and you could be just the sort of person I am looking for.

Sounds dramatic, well it sounds better than “this morning the lights were out in the tube carriage” I think.

And they were, so when the train went into the tunnel and away from the lights of the platform you were plunged into blackness that seemed to suck at your eyes. Total black, as I stood there in close proximity to other blind people, rattling along the tunnels and swaying back and forth with the motion of the train.

Then there would be a bright glow somewhere as someone down the carriage adjusts an MP3 player or cracks open their mobile phone. Then someone near me did it and the blast of light was like a flare going off!

But at least it meant I was spared the sight of other passengers yawning and picking their noses and scratching at morning itchy parts of their anatomy for once.

Maybe all tube journeys should be made in the dark.

Some of you may recall the post I did regarding the Matchbox/penis/crunching noises/howling with pain trick I played on an ex girlfriend of mine.

Here is a far more rotten and contrived little bit of badness that the poor girl suffered at my hands.

So I am living at home and I had been out he night before to a rock club that we frequented. S, my then girlfriend did not come with me on this occasion for some reason but was coming round on this day at some point in the early afternoon.

There was a girl in our extended group of friends called J, who was stick thin but rather pretty and had waist length blond hair. She was very good at annoying other girls and played up the little girl lost image to its fullest to get her way in most things.
She was at the time going through the split-get back together-split dance with her boyfriend. Any way, she was at the rock club that night and S would have known this.

I had a rotten stinking idea, and put it into action. I placed my four foot long floor cushion into my bed to make a convincing sleeping body shape, placed an old football encased in a ice hockey helmet (don’t ask why I had one of those) on the pillow for a head, and placed a long blonde wig on this. Yes I had a long blonde wig in my room. It used to be my sisters and I stole it for comedy value and such. Just leave it OK!

Anyway, I had made a very convincing sleeping form, curled up in my bed facing the wall, with “her” long blonde locks flowing over the covers. You can see where this is going right?

So, S arrives and come up to my bedroom. I open the door and do Laurence Olivier proud.

“Oh, look, nothing happened right – she had nowhere to stay and I slept on the floor OK!”

A look of horror and shock comes over my face and S comes in as I step backwards with my hands held out in front of me in a calming manner.

S looks at the bed an a cold hard look comes over her face.

“Get. Her. Out. Now.”

“OK, I’ll wake her up”

I turn and with one smooth motion pick up my old acoustic guitar and swing it up over my head, Pete Townsend styleee and bring it down with loud “CRACK” on the sleeping bonce of “J” in my bed.

“Time to get up sweetie” I whisper at the now presumed corpse in my bunk.

The look of absolute horror on S’s face was something you don’t forget.

Nor the cry of “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” when I lifted the wig up and waved it at her as I grinned.

No she didn’t dump me on the spot. God knows why.

Now I have told you all on many an occasion what a good cook Shipscook is.

And how he and Mrs F are fine hosts, even to longstanding freeloaders like myself.

And I have made you all jealous by stating that when ever I stay over there, even if it is in the middle of the week and we all have to get up and go to work, that Shipscook brings me breakfast in bed. What a geezer eh?

Sometimes his skills in the presenting of the morning munchables slip a bit.

Now it may have been the wee jolly up he was out on last night that dulled his normally fine waitering ways, but he was a bit off his game this morning.

As he presented me with breakfast he said a phrase, which is guaranteed to set you up for enjoying your food.

“The bastard cat has been sick on the stairs”

Then on turning away and leaving me with my dish he spake

“I really need a poo”

Thanks dood

Michelin stars are in the post no doubt.

That, my dear and long suffering 0.5 of a reader, is the period of time that has passed while I have been trying to re-sus this knackered old work computer.

First I run the update which takes 15 minutes. "Re boot your pc to yadda yadda yadda" and such. OK.

Reboot takes 20 minutes! and doesn't work. Just sits there with a very sulky and indifferent looking purple blank screen.

So I turn the bugger off and on again. Hoorah! it starts and then tells me it is installing the update.

I don't know how long this took as at that moment the fire alarms went off and we had to walk down four floors to go stand in the cold and smoke at the building and scowl.

15 minutes later we come back in and my pc seems to be happy. Remembering that it is very slow I tell it to look for cookies. Which takes a while and I find about 170 of the little notepaddy bastards. And delete them.

Then a disc clean up which takes long enough for me to grow a beard, and then a disc defrag which just goes on for bluddy ever.

And now, after all that - here I is!

With nothing to say yet until I have had my first look at your posts, you witty and entertaining fellows.

Don't you just hate it when you settle down for a nice mornings blogging work and the first thing your pc says it that there is a new programme update to run!

Bum holes.

It's an update to our internal messaging system so it will take bloody ages....

Meh.

This was statement was issued on behalf of the blog every dull little thing that happens to try to look interesting party.

Thank you.

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Are one of the things in life that drive me nuts.

Now we all, no matter how good we are or how well intentioned we try to be, act inconsiderately from time to time. We are distracted or worried about something and we get it wrong. But some people just don’t seem to think there is anybody else in the world, and all this is here just for them.

Now I am not talking about people being inconsiderate on a grand scale, like the abusing the environment or treating loved ones badly or their animals or children poorly, but on a smaller, petty day to day scale. And lets face it, that is where most of the things that make you want to scream take place. Also, I am a pretty petty person so it bugs the crap out of me.

Examples –

The idiots who will stop to have a chat on a crowded street pavement that has been reduced to two people wide, right at the point where it narrows. Not a care in the world and when you ask them to “excuse” you they give you a look like you are a bully.

People who come straight through lift doors without thinking you may be standing in the damn lift wanting to come out, not have a head on collision with the one person in the world who thinks the lift is theirs and theirs alone.

The close relations to the above people who get straight on the crowded train without letting anyone off first, and yes – I do try to walk into them if I can. Bastards.

People who sit on public transport talking to their mates who are either there or on the other end of the mobile and swear like, well like I normally do on here actually, when there are kids under 10 sitting near them.

People who spit on the street! God you vile and sick fuckers.

Smokers who smoke on platforms and other places where smoking is quite clearly not permitted. Twats.

People who get to the top or bottom of escalators and just stop, right there. Llwnts!

And of course, the kings of “all this is mine and you are scum” Cyclists in London.

Well I don’t know about you but I feel better now.

To make a good record. The artists effort and inspiration and sweat and time are paid for by the record company, the studio time, the instrument hire, the producers expertise, the equipment hire, the session musicians, the ridiculous demands of the artist for exotic viands and potions, the classic effects and instruments hired from specialist suppliers, the re-mixing, the packaging, the promotion….

Loads of time and effort and money to make it sound as good and aurally pleasing as possible.

So why after all this effort, do total fuckwits walk down the street listening to this painstakingly prepared product on the awful tinny speakers of a mobile phone and think its cool!?

A friend sent me this link, I think they know me too well.

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/top-photos/photos.html

But I am sure they also know the questions I will be asking

"Are they real?"

"Why were they trying the case at all?"

"Why was she trying to get into a room through a hole?"

"Why is she not wearing a bikini?"

Its all too much first thing in the morning.

I hope you have a great day and thankyou very much for being you.

You are an angel.

XXXXXXX

In that there old and purrdy "the Bruges" I also got myself some black and ver cool looking ciggies. Good posing value ya see.

They smell faintly sweet and of toffee.

They taste very nice.

I am going outside for one now.

Ahh the rewards of foreign travel......

the chance to hang around outside your office smelling like you have lit up a Mars Bar and look like a pillock.

Blog.uk have given us this new “groups” option where we can set up or join a group of like-minded bloggers and chat about whatever the group in question covers. Now I know this has been mentioned by another blogger on my friends list but I just wanted to stick my 2p in.

Today I have posted some pictures in the Photography group. Basically because they were a little more than the normal “point and click” scenery shots and “lookit da beer and me being stooopid” shots in my normal blog.

I have posted a picture of a guitar I want in Phoenix82’s “Perchance to dream” group because I was just sitting here daydreaming about it. Yeah I’m odd – sue me.

I have posted the weird nonsensical poems that bob up in my brain from time to time, and some other nonsense about the way I think the world is in “the Jasper Club”

And as yet I have posted bugger all in the “archaeology blog” because I am not very confident about remembering all the stuff I have learnt and studied in that area.

But the thing is, is this going to make my regular blog just a place where I go “look at what stupid things I did this weekend” “Guess who I saw outside” “I just saw the most fantastic woman/guitar/car/food item/mad bastid” type blog.

Is it going to narrow the scope of my main blog?

I mean full marks to Blog.co.uk for giving us all the bells and whistles and options but will it make the blogs of those of us that join these groups less varied?

As I said above, I know this has been covered before but as I was musing on this on the way back to the office I thought I’d just bung it up here.

Got to put something up, feed the addiction and all that.

We are in the Euro star station in Brussels having just got off the train from Bruges and we have some time to kill. We wander round the tramp infested and dingy looking station to various shops and make various purchases. We have a fine collection of bags by the end of this. Some contain beer, some contain chocolate and one contains my cheap ciggies.

We go into the Euro star lounge bit as this seems to be totally tramp free and sit ourselves down. Soon the gates will open and we can go through passport control. Now I am very very tired at this point. But I am intending to sleep on the train so stay awake with effort.

The gates open and we gather up all our bags and go through the gate. Then we go to passport control. Then we walk up to the machines that go bing and the x-ray scanners. We put our stuff through and walk under the magic binging archway.

Then we have to go through passport control again – this time it’s British passport control, because obviously Johnny Foreigner can’t check a passport and stare at you to a standard that would satisfy Mr Broons government. Then we get to sit down.

As I go off to the toilet I am stopped in my tracks by a panicked cry from Mrs F

“NICK! – where is the bag with your cigarettes in?!”

Oh fuck. I have no idea. I thought we had everything but I am so tired I must have left them somewhere. I am not tired now – I am full of adrenalin and anger at myself for loosing 1200 cheap cigarettes! I am shaking with it!

I go to our passport control and ask to go back and they say, “go through and ask security” I ask security and they say “Go ask Belgian passport control” I ask them and they say go to the front desk, I explain to them and they let me back into the lounge.

Nothing. Gone. Not a site. I mentally call myself a total fuckwitted cunt and rush out into the station to back track every stop from the last time I remember having them. Again nothing. I have just kissed goodbye to a load of money. The thought that some stinking tramp somewhere is now cigarette rich drives me mental.

I go back in to the lounge and up to the desk. The very nice girl there phones someone at the other end, laughs and smiles at me, “we have found your cigarettes, a passenger handed them in”

I am happy. I almost do a happy dance. I thank her, the man that brings them to me, and I make my way back through passport control (thanking them as well) and am just about to get to security and British passport control when a man walks up to me and shows me his police badge, “Could I have a word with you sir, through here?”

Not really a question but I am happy and say “certainly” and we step into a side room. At this point I am so happy to have my cigarettes back that if he had pulled out the rubber glove and asked me to bend over, I would have done it with a smile on my face. But thankfully he just asks me where I got the cigarettes and has a good sniff of the packets, checks the contents of my pockets and gives me a VERY thorough pat down search. Including the groin area. Oh yes.

But he was very polite and totally reasonable – I didn’t mind because he was just doing his job.

So with another new best friend made, I was allowed to re join Shipscook and Mrs F.

And that damn bag was not out of my site for one second after all that drama!

I is having coffees I is.

And a nice ickle pair of Choccy boobies for the nibbles on.

I am happy wiv dat.

I has booby choccy nibble happiness - I HAS IT!

Now I told you of my joy at finding a place to smoke and drink inside this weekend. Well it just got better.

You can smoke in all the bars! So how good was it to find this place..

A pub that you can smoke in AND has a selection of 300 differnt beers! They give you a menu that runs into about 20 or so pages to make a choice from!

I liked this one, look at the strenght of it!

But it was very tasty as well as being very strong. Yummy to the max.

Speaking of the max, Shipscook had one of these.

The walls inside this bar were covered in old adverts for beer from times past, but they still seemed to be serving most of them. I did take some pictures but forgot to load them into my media, so you are safe from piccies till at least tomorrow night, as they are all on the pc at S&F's.

I would recomend visiting Brugges, not just for the bars and chocolate, but for the fact that it is a very pretty place and you could have a very romantic time there. Or a very drunken time there. Its' up to you.

This is Jerries Cigar bar.

It is a bar at the back and sells cigars and cigarettes at the front.

Which means........

you can SMOKE AND DRINK INSIDE! Do I look happy?

I made a new little friend in Jerries.

Mrs F is convinced the male owner of this dog wanted my body, but she says that about all dog owners that ask me to send them the photo of their dog and give me their email address..........

And below is the little "Cafe" that was opposite our hotel where we had brekkie on Saturday and the gorgeous girl made an omlette especially for Mrs F.

Not your average brekkie bar eh? And not overly expensive.

There will be a few more pictures later.

Sorry.

Below is the Church of the Holy Blood, in which Mrs F and I got told of for being "disrespectful" which basically means we were wispering to each other. I dunno, give em a phial of Chirsts Blood and they think they blumin well own the place.

My lap is all warmed up and ready for you to park your "fluffy Canadian Ass" on for a birthday treat!

XXXXX

To arrive in Belgium and discover that I am being stalked by Blog.co's very own roving reporter and his little dog Nipper Snowey.

Well its better than being called "Lilly" eh?

Mocking other cultures and the way they write and name things is childish and stupid

So here we go......

I don't think they enjoy their job somehow.

We were going to go in here.

But I didn't like their intended demographic....

and the rest are self explanatory...

I did see some culture and such honest!

I did not spend the entire time giggling and pointing.

Us chaps don't often do chocolate. And I would have not bothered really, but just sometimes someone buys you something that is just right........

and even.

(there were three of these, one of the ladies had the bottom half of her leg missing. I said "Blimey, Paul McCartneys wedding night in chocolate" and Mrs F slapped me)

Well some of them anyway, as I will be posting some pictures by way of illustrating some of the finer points later.

Anyway.

Brugges is beooootifull. The canals are wonderous and the archetecture puuurdy.

They has a lot of beer over there. Some of it is very strong. Like drinking a pint of wine. Silly streangth BUT very tasty and pleasant, not like the high alcohol content "Tramp Juice" that passes for strong beer in this country.

My baldness has now started to affect the back of my heeeed as well as the front and top. I discoverd this in the toilet on the Eurostar train as its the only place I have been able to see the back of my head in for ages, due to thre being two mirrors facing each other. To stop all this Francis R nonsense the heeed well be shaved shortly after I get to 45.

They have a lot of chocolate. Shipscook and I spent a lot of time trying to drag Mrs F out of the endless choccy shops so we could get to the restaurants and bars. Some of the chocolate is rude. And on display in the window. We are talking ladies parts and male thingamys. I was shocked. But I rallied.

Our hotel was in the old part of town in a pretty little street and the girl in the cafe over the road (which had wood panels and a big fire place and stained glass and was not in anyway shape or form your average cafe) made wonderful omelettes and I fell in love with her because she was gorgeous.

I like black cigarettes that taste faintly of Toffee. I bought a couple of packets for posing value. I bought 1200 Marlboro for coughing and killing myself value.

Being told off by the priest that looks like Adam Hart Davis and guards the little phial of "Christs Blood" makes me and Mrs F giggle. We were not being respectful. Well I blame Mrs F.

The people of Brugges are very friendly.

The food (if you find the right places - basically down side streets and not near the main tourist sites) is great. Shipscook will tell you all about that and how to make it once he has had a go I would imagine.

Belgian police man have a strong and firm but, at the same time, considerate grip. Especially when checking your groin area.

Anyway, have to start the process of uploading all the photographs now so I can illustrate some of my points and bore you to death.

Or as she is more commonly known, Deadgirldiaries.

Yes, she dresses as a pirate on occasion. And dammit she has a boat! (but pictures of said boat are still not forthcoming!)

So what's not to like!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEXI!

XXX