Area 136

Or how afflicted with OCD's

This morning, I saw one of the "Suits" that work here standing in the kitchen filling a kettle.

He was filling said kettle from a hot water dispenser, that provides water at scalding temperatures. Hot enough to make very hot drinks with.

But this was either not hot enough for him, or the kettle was too slow.

WHY?

Executive stress?

OCD about scalding hot water not being clean enough and needing just one more good boil to make it safe?

Who knows.

Or even cares.

I was asked last night.

I was having a quick Google talk chat thing with a blogger and they commented on my avatar, which is a picture of a panda with “Pandas” written at the top and “Fuck ‘em” written at the bottom. I was asked to explain my apparent dislike of said cute fluffy creatures.

Well come on, any animal that is just too lazy to shag when housed in a nice comfy zoo is just not worth saving. Lazy fuckers. They probably taste great as well.

Said fiend being of the female persuasion and therefore prone to going “awww” over things furry and big eyed said “How can you say that! They are cute” like that is a good reason to save something, and went on to say “Cockroaches, now they deserve to die!”

“At least they have had the good grace to have done something useful, like evolve the ability to survive after a nuclear disaster! All pandas would do is burst into flames and be put off shagging even more!”

I mean Pandas…What’s the bloody point?

Ah yes, the working day.

Well at least it is the end of a short week and we get paid tomorrow. And, wonder of wonders – we get a bonus this month.

And I WILL NOT squander it on that very nice pointy black guitar I saw – I will use some of it to buy some new clothes and the rest will be put aside for spending money for the holiday (ie buying loads of cheap cigarettes). Fuck it! I hate being “sensible”.

Lurking somewhere in my morning, like a woodlouse in a salad, is a conference call. Hmmm, there are a couple of ways to approach this. As I have not yet got the email with the call in number and code yet, I could do the old “I forgot” bit, claiming that as there was no email I thought there was no meeting. And as my line manager has the day off I have no one here to remind me. But some git will probably phone me up and ask me why I am not on the call, and I will say, “Because I am talking to you obviously”

The other way is to do what I did last time – ring in, sit and listen, say nothing, put the phone down. At least that way I will know what is being planned for our brave new leap into whatever.

At some point I also have to send an email to someone explaining the bleeding obvious, that is – how to do their job. All part of the services I offer.

Then lunch.

Then the afternoon. I can’t wait.

What a fun packed Friday.

Meh.

But then I get to go!

Yayyyness.

All this rain is interfering with my cigarette smoking!

(Please, no comments about giving up or looking after my health - they will all be treated with contempt)

Oh well, the regualar Thursday ritual of watching House while taping Heroes and them watching the tape is about to commence.

I live such a wild and hectic life no?

Bet you wish you were me eh?

Ahem.

Well on that note I think I will pour a glass of single malt and go make a nest on the sofa.

It's all Rock and roll round here ya know.........

I don’t know why, but I have a severe case of the itches!

I feel like ants are crawling all over me. Very not nice.

Of course there are no ants on my person in reality but that does not stop me itching like mad.

Maybe it’s the weather.

Maybe I have fleas.

Maybe I picked the wrong day to quit heroine. Not that I actually have ever done it, but I have read Trainspotting.

In other news, I need to have another quick scratch.

The mange! That’s what it is.

Meh.

Now some of you females on my friends list have been going all misty eyed over that there “Sex and the City” film and saying how great it is. My response is generally to say that I would rather stick pins in my own eyes than go see such a film.

But, I do actually watch and enjoy “romantic” films. Just not the sort you girlies go for – and before you panic, for once I am not making vague references to porn!

For example the last Dracula film – the one with Gary Oldman in it – is a very romantic film and I enjoyed watching it. OK, the whole point of the film was the “tragic romance” theme rather than the horror but it was a good film. Hmm, liking a film about a tragic doomed romance, what are the chances eh?

Ahem.

Anyway, another film that I consider to be a romance normally causes general eyebrow arching when I mention it, but it is a romantic story of a doomed relationship.

The Terminator.

Yep, that one. With Arnie and guns and explosions and stuff.

How much more romantic can you get? A man falls in love with a woman in a photograph, takes a one-way trip back in time to save her, she falls in love with him, they have one night of passion and then an almost unstoppable android kills him.

See, I can do romantic film watching. They just have to have loads of guns and monsters and sex in them as well.

I believe I just heard the phrase -

"One things for sure, Neal can produce a hell of a lot of spunk"

coming from the front room where Moff and S&F are sitting.

Ah right, they must be watching "Peepshow"

Thank God for that, thought I was missing out on some good gossip.

You know, the one down there. (points to New media from your friends area at the bottom of the page)

Nice as it is for people to share things with you, it makes it a bit difficult to look at your blog at work when there is a piccie of a battery powerd "love wand" at the bottom of it.

But due to the photographic efforts of you wonderful bloggers, the naughty item has dropped off the page, and I am no longer in danger of shocking my fellow workers.

Yes, pointless as this post is - it is keeping me from falling asleep.

My stomach has an anticipation my dear 0.5 of a hungry reader. It is not enough that it has been treated to a brace of fine bacon and egg sandwiches this morning, oh no. I have just booked a table at Navarro's Spanish Tappas restaurant in Charlotte Street for the Moff, S&F and me for this Saturday.

Top quality Spanish nomming ahoy!

If you wanna lookee, point your browser at

www.navarros.co.uk

But due to me feeling a little duntish and in need of hangover prevention food, coupled with the fact that one of the major tube lines in London decided to go “breasts uppermost” just as I was about to get on it (the circumnavigation of the tube network to get here put an hour on my journey) and I got hear feeling ravenous, I have just eaten two wonderfully delicious Fried egg and Bacon sandwiches.

The bacon was tangy and salty, the eggs were white and gold and beautifully soft and tasty in the centre, the bread too was white and soft and buttered.

Absolutely heavenly nomming material.

I now have a very happy stomach.

People often say to me at this time of night -

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY GARDEN! DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS? AND PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! right I'm calling the police"

But other than that, can I just say that laptops make your legs sweaty.

Which officer, is why I was out there nekkid.

I had hot thighs.

Can someone send bail?

Erm, I have run out of things to say...............

I remember when all this was fields ya know....

ahem.

I am...

In mollys this lunchtime, Wayne the "light on his feet" barman was talking to the other two customers in the pub - I was sat at the bar.

For some reason or other he was talking to them about ages, and how he was often taken for younger than his 37 years. Now to be fair to him, he does look about 30 to 32, but when he said

"A fella was in the other week and said I looked a lot younger than 37"

without looking up from my magazine I said

"Did you pat his guide dog?"

"OOoooooooh I was bloody waiting for that from you ya cow!" he said and flounced off to the other end of the bar while the customers chuckled.

It would have been more dramatic of course if the bar in Mollys was not only seven or eight foot long of course...........

The Scotch pie, consumed by me.

The "Non more pink or atificial looking" dougnut comsumed by Sarah for that morning sugar rush of energy neede to climb the cliffs

A package contianing all good "healthy" things a scot needs to start his day.

And of course, the evening CURRY! Erm, which was one of the photographys S&F's pc decided not to upload, so just imagine a table in a curry house straining to support enough food for five people, the side dishes of vegetably stuff, and beer.

And Sarah did get to try a deep fried Crunchy (she went off the idea of a Mars bar) so as you can see, I am a father who has his childs health ever in mind. Well she enjoyed the experience at least.

Ho well.

We seem to have had much better weather up in Scotland than was had down south. Not a site of any rain, clear blue skies for the most part and bright sunshine. OK it was windy and a little cold at times but at least we could get out and take Sarah places without getting soaked.

But fear not, we got our fair share of rain when we got back to London.

Hope you all had a good weekend.

The point of traveling to far off places is experiencing a little of their culture and ways.

so yesterday just after we arrived here in Edingburgh I had a "Scotch Pie" from Greggs. A picture of this wonderouos pie will appear when I return, just to make jacobite homesick.

Sarah is getting into it as well. She has asked that, if she is a good girl today, she could try a deep fried mars bar.

I am justly proud of her adventurous spirit!

I am bored.

So in a few minutes I am effing off to get my hair cut, then going off on my merry way to Rancho Collapso to play my guitar and await the arrival of Mrs f, shipscook and eventually Sarah.

I may pop back on here later for a squint about, providing I can pry Ships off the pc where he will be attempting to book us flights to here there and everywhere.

Although tomorrow we are taking the train to Edinburgh because frankly flying up there with all this "take your shoes off please sir" bollocks is a pain in the arse.

laters people.

(To the tune of “Can I play with Madness?” by I.Ron. Maiden)

“I CAN HAS FISH SAMMICH!”

nomnomnomnomnom.

There is an urban myth about T-shirts that I would like to dispel.

Certain people claim that t-shirts need to be ironed after washing.

This is complete rubbish. They need to be hung up on a clotheshorse and left to their own devices till dry, then folded and placed in a draw till they are ready to wear.

Or plucked direct from said clotheshorse and worn. No ironing required.

The only people who push this myth as hard truth are normally the people you are living with – wife, husband, lover whatever.

This is because if you have the ironing board out and are doing some ironing, you will somehow end up doing their stuff too.

Sneaky bastids.

Is to wander the wild expanses of this building and try to locate a toilet that is

a - not closed for cleaning

b - not closed awaiting repair

c - in a condition somewhere near usable

Wish me luck.

I, my dear 0.5 five of an avid, feverish reader - am going for a ciggie in the garden and then to my bed in the "orange room"

No row, paddy and brads - it has nothing to do with that fruit and it's beneficial applications, it refers to its prevailing colour.

Hope you out there (points in the general direction of the virtual world and stubs long boney finger on monitor screen, says "ouch" and waits for sympathy, gets not a sausage) have had a good day and will have a good Friday (not in the religious sense obviously because it is not "good Friday" Oh fuck it! you know what I mean! do I have to explain EVERYTHING!) and remember, we have the joys of a lovely wet bank holiday weekend to look forward to.

YE, and possibly at a stretch - HAH!

And now bed.

"Ah mister nothing at all to say, wiv thees post - you are spoiling uz"

Yeah. Nothing if not generous me.

Have a look at this little fella.

http://epicjourney.blog.co.uk/2008/05/22/title-4207827

yeah?, no?

Personally I am immune from cuteness as you all know.

But I thought you might enjoy this, erm...furry.....animal....erm...thing.

It’s all rubbish really innit?

Life, the universe, toast, cranes, wallpaper, Geese on stilts, Reality TV, sun dried tomatoes, political stuff, Health and safety, cheese in a can.

All mental.

As you can tell I am a touch with the nothings that I want to do mode.

So I am sat sitting here wide awake and typing whatever comes into my brain.

At one point today I was going to blog a post about the two alcoholic brothers I used to be in a band with, I was going to tell you that I had seen Professor Robert “I film young children but not in a bad way” Winston walking past our office in a white Linen suite and straw fedora, but fuck him – he never mentions me in his blog.

This ability to touch type can be a curse you know. Well obviously you do now because I am sitting here typing away any bit of drivel that pops into my head and laying it before your highly disinterested eyes.

Mind you, it makes me look busy (except that every one knows I can’t be doing any work because I am not swearing) and keeps my bendy fingers in tip top supple trim.

Oh cobblers to this, I think I need a FISH SAMMICH!

(look, soy has her bikkits, I have my fish sammiches )

I may also go and make a cup of instant coffee with four teaspoons of said go powder in it and see if my brain runs out through my nose.

Thank you, that is all.

Please go about the rest of your afternoon.

I am amazed at how often it appears I am going to have to get my hair cut. Every three to four weeks seems to be the way it's going to go.

so what you may say, but remember - before having it all cut off I had not had a proper haircut for about 20 years.

So all this head trimming lark is a bit of a shock.

I have become one of those people I used to snear at who think "Oh, I'm going away next week - better get my hair cut"

God I've changed! I used to be me!

Now I am someone else.

Or something.

Yes, Irelands entry for Eurovision - Dustin the Turkey - failed to make it through the semi finals and will not be going to, erm....where ever the hell they are holding it this year.

So we will have to hope some of the other countries have entered some preposterous rubbish for us to laugh and point at on Saturday night.

But I doubt that I will get to see it as I will be up in Edinburgh with Sarah and S&F, visiting Moff.

AND there is the Monaco Grand Prix on Sunday.......bumholes! will probably miss that as well.

Still, I will be busy having a good time all being well.

Weather up there is not looking promising though. Ho hum.

People keep asking me to do things!

Work type things!

Don't they know anything!

Bugger.

That would be me then.

Had to do a big report thingey and sort out all the info. To do this I had to use a system that is a bit new to me and therefore requires me to pour over the step by step “idiots guide” provided for me by the last person to get lumbered perform this task.

I got to stage two before having to go back and start again because I was lost.

It took me three goes to get past stage two and get all the info I needed.

So, I obviously need the Uber idiots guide.

I can’t brain today. I has the dumb.

At last I can break free of this cage of wage slave drudgery and spread my wings on the bright thermals of fee time!

The shackles fall from my limbs and I ascend into the bright light of pure………stuff,

And wossname.

Innit.

What, me?

Pretentious?

Fuck off.

Bored yes, and desperate to be elsewhere, but never pretentious.

Ahem.

In fact it is high time I was elsewhere and so saying I will be so doing.

Or something.

I'm bored.

And so I has been trotting round this here blogity thingey reading blogs that are new to me. It's a good way of wasting time as I lay awake at work.

You gotta do something with your day after all. I don't just stand outside with a ciggie waiting for the next celeb to go by.

Well OK, mainly I do that thing - but as some of you bods on my friends list have gone a bit quiet due to various personal reasons I have to go looking around for distraction.

I haz an resslessness of blog, I HAZ IT!

I still also have a weird habit of slipping into "lolcat" speak.

Obviously.

Meh.

More Celebs are appearing on the street outside.

Wandering off to mollys, I saw a geezer on the other side of the road holding on to his Fedora to stop it blowing of in the light wind.

He had a certain familiarity about him.

Then I realised it was well known Stevie Wonder ripper offer, JK from Jamiroquai (a band name that sends tremours of fear down the spine of any dyslexic I can tell you!)

That is the thing with musos and celebs. No matter how many times you see pictures of them falling out of cabs in the dead of night, once the weather brightens up they come out onto the streets like they are solar powered.

How odd.

Just saw Richard Ayode or however you spell it (the one that plays the extra nerdy one in "The IT crowd")

And guess what?

With his hair in it's natural ragged afro style and with a pair of shades on his face instead of geeky specs, he looks a little like Phil Lynott from Thin Lizzy!

Weird.

A bastard cyclist just ran into the back of my foot. “Oh shut up you tart, so what” I hear you cry.

Well the thing is I WAS IN THE FOURTH FLOOR CORRIDOR OF THE BLOODY OFFICE!

Yep, some young twat turned up to work on a fold up bicycle while I was out front having a ciggie. Due to poor timing he came up in the lift with me with his folded up clown prop and wheeled it down the corridor behind me and still managed to be so blind and selfish that he ran it into the back of my foot.

Llwnt!

No, I don’t think I am being petty at all.

Hmmph!

I read in the Metro this morning that our glorious leaders are discussing whether or not to allow those Segway two wheeled scooter things to be allowed on British roads.

I have seen the Police in Tenerife using these things to glide along the seafronts watching for wrongdoing and they do look very amusing. We also saw a group of people using them to tour the old town part of Stockholm, and laughed heartily into our beer at the sound of them all piling into each other as they tried to negotiate the steep cobbled street next to the bar we were taking a break in.

But letting them loose on the streets of our fair capital?

One bod said “They can go on the roads, pavements and cycle lanes, I don’t see why we should be so far behind the rest of Europe in our thinking”

Well chuckles it’s like this. There are already a group in London who think that any flat surface is theirs and theirs alone. We don’t need arseholes on Segway scooters treating us like scum as well as bloody Cyclists.

Mind you, if both groups start getting in each others way we could have the pleasure of some interesting “street theatre” as Segway riders and cyclists come to blows over who has right of way.

Every cloud and all that……..

A few posts ago I posted some pictures of The "Vasa" a big Swedish war ship of the Galleon variety the sunk on its maiden voyage due to it being too full of guns and not full enough of ballast.

Reading up on it today as I lay awake at work, I found that they actually had checked it for stability in the harbour just after it was launched.

How? by the traditional method of getting 30 sailors to run, at the same time, from one side of the deck to the other and see how long it took for things to get wobbly. The sailors could only run across the deck three times (!!!) before the test had to be stopped.

The guy running the test reported to the dockyard manager that the ship was a death trap and due to the fact that the guy who designed it was a "master shipbuilder" (AHEM!) he said "I'm sure he knows what he is doing"

Yeah right.

Bloody officials. Know bugger all most of the time.

Yes here I am, using the old gasping slow pc at the house as I had to leave the laptop that Jacobite lent me with S&F as their PC is still a bit dead.

Couldn't leave the poor souls without intenet access could I?

So here I am on the old wreck of a hp pavilion (hence it's new name in the title of this post) but I have managed to instal Firefox so it is going a little bit better than it used to.

Still as sluggish as a slug infested thing though.

I bet your all so glad I share these thrilling titbits from my life with you.

Whaddaya mean "NO!"

Pah!

I will go away then and think of something more interesting to share with you.

I could be gone some time........

They are just like this in London.

Sitting at my desk and drinking coffee out of my new "Moose Warning sign" mug, thinking about doing some work.

There are a couple of files to finish off, some emails to look at but on the whole, nothing much. And my line manager is not in yet.

Do you know, you can still smoke in Swedish airports? I was amazed as well. They have very efficient smoking areas where you sit at a table and the smoke is swirled away up into a fan and no one is bothered by it. I think that is a much more sensible way of doing things rahter than banning it totally. Made the entire airport experience much more calm.

So.

Anyway.

Must go do stuff I suppose.

As that bloke with the sock down his trousers used to sing in the days of his youth in Led Zepplin.

But I have come from a land of rather pricey alcomahol. Drinking in Sweden is actually more expensive than drinking in Central London!

Mind you, if you have a good guide she can take you to places where the prices are more like the ones you pay at lunch time in Molly Mogs. (and god love her for it. xxxx)

So, erm - the point of this post was what again?

Oh yeah. Some of you stupid idiots who have given me a perfect excuse fans out there who I met in Greenwich said "We miss those drunken blogs you used to do"

Oh dear.

So that and the above mentioned silly money charged for drinkeries in that there "the Foreign" has caused me to stock up on strong cider, Red wine and Southern Comfort.

Well, you have to give people what they want right.

So may the Curious Sisters of the Holy Order of the Surprised and Vital Knee, dance madly on tin foil at your entry into heaven. Or if wet, in the Scout hut.

See what you have done now?

And I has the work in the morning.

Oh bugger.

We also went to the "Vasa" museum. The Vasa was a ship built for much the same reasons as our Mary Rose - It was to be the pride of the fleet, have the most guns and really say "Don't mess with our Navy!"

And just like the Mary Rose it sank on its maiden voyage just out of harbor due to being too top heavy and not very well thought out. But it was a very impressive site.

Oh dear.....inner pirate......starting...to..take....over.....must......go...find...rum and wenches.......

Aaaaaaaaar!

In Stockholm there is a massive heritage park called "Skansen" that is full of old buildings and people doing handicrafts and such. Many of the more rustic photos in my last post were taken there.

They also have a sort of Zoo section. We were wandering through this looking at the animals and I saw a sign to "Bjorn" the brown bear. OK, I thinks, I will go have a look. I round a corner and find myself above a big enclosure full of rocks and logs. Standing on one of the logs was this handsome fella:

Now even I know that is a fox and not a big brown bear. So I thought I had the wrong area, but around the corner in the same enclosure was this:

A very big mummy bear, with three cubs in tow (one above with mum)

"Oh! this won't end well" I thought, imagining mummy bear ripping poor fox to bits to protect her cubs. But it turned out that "Johnny the Fox" was a bit of an opportunist and was just in there looking for scraps. He had a way in and out and the cubs seemed quite used to him. In fact when he got too close they would chase him away and he would turn and play fight with them.

So all was well.

Also saw these guys -

Yep. I know you are all itching to see the piccies from our stay in Stockholm (which is in SWEDEN, not SWITZERLAND for the information of a wee numpty blogger that texted me and asked "Have you been to a clock museum yet? buy me some virtual chocolate" - ahem)

But as we have just connected the laptop I borrowed off of Jacobite to the net here at rancho collapso I am going to go back in time a bit to the trip to the Emerald isle to see padders and bradders and bring you the very wonderful canine stars of that weekend

Meet Hilly

And the truly mental and stupid but lovable Eddie

Who are that wet due to us chucking a ball in a big huge lake thing for them to jump into and make free with the otter impressions.

You old bleeder. As we say often with much respect down here in this here fancy the London.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOOOOD!

lets rock.

(again this post was done via the wonders of "edit date stamp" so if I get it wrong, sue me!)

Now you may be aware that I am not here so this post is brought to you by the wonders of the "edit time stamp" function and if I have got the day wrong I am sorry, but:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIZA! XXXX

Doing a quick post before we hed off with Mira and Meno to do museums and stuff.

The hotel is very good, Miras flat is very nice with many objects of hand mande art spread through it, it is a very calming space. I like it.

Mira has very smiley eyes and is a very nice person. Good cook too, which is always a bonus. We took a load of booze to her flat last night and sat eating and drinking and havin fun.

We had a bit of confusion with how and where to meet up when we got here, as befits the worlds most disorganised organised people.

Ahmem.

Stockholm has much in the way of water and islands over and onto which we will be going today. If that makes any sense.

Gotta go now as everyone is waiting for me.

See ya!

sat in an airport being bored and watchin my money evaporate at an alarming rate.

This airport internet is such a huge fucking rip off it is untrue.

Waitnig for our flight and trying not to slap the ickle kiddies running around screaming. Should actually slap their stupid parents.

Weather outside looks all blue skies and sunnage, but it is rather chilly at half past four in the morning.

In other news, we didn't bring Miras address with us! nice move exlax.

So I hope Meno will text it to me.

Mind you I am not sure my phone is working as I sent a jolly "goodmorning" text to someone at half past six this morning and they have not replied yet.

Ahem.

Right, enough of filling the already overstuffed coffers of the airport rip off pirate bastards. I am going to take my boredom someplace else.

But what to do when I get back to S&F's????

Options are:

Have a sleep, because frankly I am knucking fackered.

Try to load my pictures onto the laptop to free up space for maximum snappage in Mira land.

Play my guitar, as I will be without one for almost a week.

Attempt to cut my hair with the trimmers, but this worries me. I know I want to look all neat and luvvvverleeee when I meet Mira and Meno but I only had it done just over a week ago.

Run naked round the garden with a bottle of green label Johnny Walker screaming all the vile words I can think of.

OK, the last one was a joke. I am in a good mood and there is no need for that sort of behaviour. It's not like its' the weekend or anything.

(if I don't manage to get the laptop linked up to the internet I wont be on here tonight and you will have to wait to discover if I find an internet cafe before you can get another dose of boredom from me. I don't know how you will all manage but you will just have to bloody well try. So if I can't check in over the next five days or so, see you later)

I was going to title this post “Don’t you just love gay barmen” but realised that you could all get the wrong impression. One that involved some bendage over bar counters and various entirely inappropriate lunchtime activities.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway. I was chatting in the pub with the bar type servy drinks geezer about various subjects ranging from Motorbike insurance and mortgages and attitudes to sex (what? Well it was just us in there so we could discuss what we liked) and I said

“Well being a bit older than you our attitude to sex was probably a bit different when we were teenagers”

“Well your not that older than me are you, I’m 37 – how old are you?”

“45”

“Oh! Really?” he said looking surprised (What a nice bloke, I think)

“Well then, you are quite a bit older than me” he said with a toss of his head (You git! You had to get that in. And that is all your getting in after that comment matey)

So there ya go, complimented and insulted with style, in the way only a gay barman in Soho can.

I love working here.

Well apart from the obvious one, that there is never enough of it for long enough, is that it never looks at you and says, “Save me in a nice warm account somewhere”

Well not to me. It says “GO FOR IT! BUY STUFF!” and bounces up and down all excited and encouraging like.

The thing is that this month we are supposedly getting a leeedle bit extra in our pay. For being good boys and girls. It will not be enough for a riverside pad in Kensington of course, but it’s more than you need to buy 10 bags of chips.

I should really put it away and use it for something good and worthy.

Or put it away to spend on a trip or holiday – spending money is always a good thing to have when you’re in that there “the foreign”.

But I can’t help the window shopping. I have been looking at lots of unnecessary goodies on the internet. Like new hand wound pickups for one of my guitars.

Or I could, horror of horrors – actually buy some new clothes. And trust me I cannot believe I just said that out loud either.

Must not be bad.

Exercise some sense and control.

Just once dammit!

It is a regular occurrence here at Weird Inc.:

The morning lightshow.

Every morning people wander into this big open plan warehouse of lost souls to find a desk. We few in the corner are the only ones who are up here all the time so we know where the light switches are. The rest of the desks sit in the gloom until these transient bods come in and start wildly flailing at the switches to cast some light on the desk they have chosen for their working day.

The random flashes and sudden plunges into darkness are enough to spark of an epileptic fit. If we put some coloured bulbs in it would be like attending a gig. In fact sometimes I feel like faking a fit just to get out of work for the day.

In other news, this is my last day at work this week because as you know I am off to the land of Mira to do some visiting. So after four this afternoon you could well be rid of my dull mutterings for almost an entire week. Especially if we can’t get S&F’s computer working tonight.

They do have internet cafes out there right?

Is just boring.

So you try to liven it up a bit. (watch till the end, the last one is amazing.)

Boy do they ever need to get girlfriends!

"Swashbuckling old Git"

Hmmmmmm, can't Imagine who put that one.

Check ya own tags ya short scally wench.

Just saw on the evening news that someone has been stabbed to death outside a McD's in Oxford street, not far from where I work.

What exactly is going on with people!

I know it's hot, and tempers get short but for gods sake!

It is that post blog meet phenomena. The little burst of tagging activity.

But come on, there is no need to take the piss!

"Cute & Sexy"

You are having a rather large Giraffe, are you not.

And yes, of course I am bloody well leaving it there!

And won't be doing any till tomorrow night, when I will wibble around in my room at S&F's trying to decide what t-shirts to wear and cram them and my underwear into my backpack for the trip to See Mira.

I will faff about and realise that I hate all of my t-shirts as they all make me look fat/stupid/old and end up screaming and jumping head first into a bucket sized glass of wine (a speciality of the house you know)

I will probably forget something vital and only think of it half way to the airport when its too bloody late.

But, I am looking forward to the trip. Going somewhere you have been before is enjoyable, but going somewhere totally new is even more exciting.

But apparently the weather is going to be chilly. Oh well.

This post was brought to you by the "Work evasion executive"

To start providing us with the big laughs due to his buffoonery.

On Saturday I caught some video footage of the blond bombsite himself on the news, riding his bicylce through a red light, just like all the other selfish bastard cyclists in London.

Of course He blustered that it was just a one off mistake (yeah right) and he believes that all cyclists should obey the rules of the highway code at all times.

Like that is really ever going to happen!

I has the shakes I tell you!

Well it all went breasts uppermost on Friday here at weird Inc when the pc’s refused to believe in the existence of the outside world from midday onwards. No way were they letting anyone connect to the Internet at all! So at three O’clock I buggered off over the pub to drink lots of Guinness with Jacobite and our old line manager and some of the bods from work.

I went round to S&F’s and forgot all about the Internet, because Sarah was over and I had to entertain her. I was going to finally put up some pictures from the trip to Ireland but thought I would do it on Saturday. Oh no I wouldn’t as S&F’s pc decided that it was time to not work at all. Bastard. Typically we wanted to use it to check the state of the underground and DLR links to Greenwich what with the blog meet and all but nothing would work. It is still broken now, so I may have to load my pictures up from the house tonight.

Anyway the blog meet was fun, but I really must remember to actually eat something before drinking all that cider. Got a bit drunk. I remember having a conversation with someone that went

“Patent leather shoes are ok, but you have to be careful as blokes can look in them and see up your skirt. Mind you if you wear patent leather knickers as well they just look down and see themselves looking back”

Ahem.

Also remember that a certain blogger was late as they claimed to have been sidetracked by booze. On your way to a blog drink up? Helloooo! There was booze at the blog meet! Personally I think they were scared. And another well-known blogger whose first act on arriving outside the pub was to try and break their ankle by falling off their shoes. Some alcohol may have been taken prior to their arrival. Possibly. Perhaps.

Anyway it was good to see some blog friends again and meet some of you for the first time.

Now I really must do that work thing. (Which actually means try to catch up on blogs…….)

Outside again evading work, I saw a young woman go by who I have noticed on a couple of occasions. She is very pretty, a little gothy and has a nice figure. She also has fantastic shoulder length bright red hair.

Today though, I think she chose her dress unwisely. It was nice and flattering, in silk or something similar, but EMERALD GREEN!

With her bright red hair it certainly made her noticeable.

I have a nasty suspicion that watching this sort of stuff may have contributed to making me the way I am............

wibble.

I have only just noticed something odd about this office.

If you use the lifts at one end of the building, you will be travelling up or down with people who do things like use the word “Yeah?” between every sentence or say “innit” in a similar fashion, or spend the brief trip mumbling incoherently into mobile phones and chuckling.

If you use the lifts at the other end of the building, the lifts by the main entrance, you are more likely to be accompanied by people carrying laptops and takeaway coffees from Café Nero, Sandwiches from Prets and talking into mobiles saying things like “Yeah, we are working on the projections now and will have them over to you soon as, no problemo”

Don’t know which ones annoy me more.

Yes, inspite of the fact that I got NO SUBTLE HINTS AT ALL from the person named above (and forgetting the fact that even blog sends you a little nag-ette "it's your friends birthday in a few days, why not actually show you give a rats arse and do a post about it, or you could not bother and they will hate you and delete you and tag you bad things. Love, bloguk team")

So being of sound mind and under no pressure at all reeeeeely, I would just like to say.

erm.

Oh yeah!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

XX

Having yet another brief pause in my “hectic” working day outside, I saw the one and only John Hurt walking by.

He of the exploding chest in the film “Alien”

He of the excellent “The Naked Civil Servant” (a role he will apparently be reprising soon)

And what was he doing. Well walking down the street obviously, but laden down with two very down to earth carrier bags full of various produce and goods. Just like any other person. Why do we think all actors lead such glamorous lives? Why does the thought of someone we have seen on the TV and the “silver screen” doing something so mundane as shopping for everyday stuff seem so odd?

Must just be me.

But as he walked past he saw me looking at him and glanced back at me a couple of times.

And as I was thinking “blimey! It’s John Hurt!” I could see him thinking “Blimey, if Francis Rossi shaved his head – that’s what he would look like!”

I nearly nutted the C*nt!

Have you ever been somewhere and been listening to a song about the place you are in?

For example, in Ireland last weekend we were being driven down the “N17” road. Bradders turned to us and said “see, the N17 – as made famous in the song”

“Er, which song?” said I, being all hip with the music and the glavin.

“The one by the “Saw Doctors”…. called “N17”, they come from the next village”

With that he put the song on, sort of mid tempo soft Celtic pop, the song being about driving down the road of the title as you go to leave Ireland, and it was odd driving through places that were being named in the tune.

So have you been anywhere and heard a song that mentioned the place you are in?

No?

Oh well.

I have been beset by that vile thing “work” this morning. Oh yes, it happens to the best of us at least once a year. My line manager and I were running through the list of instructions we were given that were supposedly an easy guide to manipulating loads of important data using a very complicated programme. All went well until a certain point at which it all went rather bandy.

We retraced our steps and still ended up in the same state of bandyness. Not good we thought. So we phoned the “whiz kid” who wrote us the guide only to discover that he had left out one minor bit of information. Although it was obvious to him what the next move at this particular point was, what with him being able to use this system in his sleep, we didn’t spot what we were doing wrong so were stuck. But he put us on the right track and we did what we had to do. Yay team work-for-a-change!

In other news,

Yesterday evening I saw one of my soon to be ex neighbours standing outside his house chatting to someone. He is a builder by trade and was standing there shirtless in the sun and he had already gone that shade of red that only builders can manage. We have hardly had a week of sun and there he is about to go brown! I know sun cream is not something your average builder takes to work but don’t the all pervading tentacles of health and safety have something to say about this regarding skin cancer and the like. But you know what builders are like, “We don need yos steeenkink sun creams”

Well OK, maybe Mexican builders……..

Because Nicky Horne is playing the full length version of "Bat out of Hell" on planet rock.

And if my days working for Neal Kay and his "Heavy Metal Soundhouse" mobile rock show (alongside the mighty Kizlode) taught me anything, it is that when you hear this song being played, the DJ needs to go somewhere to "attend to something" Be it having a pony, finding some drugs, or making sure his girlfriend is not wrapped round one of the roadies.

ahem.

Like, I know you all say that AOL is rubbish and such, but I just thought my modem was rubbish or the connection was slow from here and that I would have to put up with blog taking ages to change views when blogging from home.

But no.

I have two firefox windows open, one for my emails and one for blog (because for some reason on this laptop you don't get the option to have another tab open in one session) and everything is running at a proper decent speed!

Why me no figure this out before.....

So I now feel even more dumb, but not geeky. Which is sort of good.

I think.

Meh.

Some people dream of being super heroes, some people just get on with it.

I read this lunchtime (in the Fortean Times) of this outstanding example to us all.

A five-year-old boy (with a name so long I can’t be arsed to type it out) ran into his neighbours burning house and rescued a one-year-old baby from its crib, rushing the child outside to safety.

Not only was he dressed in his Spider-Man outfit, but also he refused any reward offered.

What a little nutter!

I don't randomly accept every friends invite I get.

I like to go read the persons blog and check out their profile first to see if we have anything in common.

So if you invite me and you have no blog yet and have not given any information about yourself on your profile, I will just say no.

Of course if there is any info and you have a blog to read I may say no anyway, but it's still my choice after all.

Although it is a lovely day out their in the great metropolis, there is a bit of a chill to the morning air. Especially in the deep shadow filled valleys made by the streets with tall buildings lining them where the sun has not yet penetrated.

So I have seen a number of women this morning with light summer dresses and light summer bras sporting full on winter nipples.

So just bear that in mind girls. Be careful out there.

Right, let me just say that Paddy and Brad are great hosts, have a brilliant house in the middle of some wonderful countryside in a very pretty part of Ireland and have two fantastic dogs (Eddy and Hilly) and two big fluffy cats (Max and Huw?)

We arrived on Saturday and where taken to Chez Gay, then after a short period we took the two sheepdogs out for a swim in a local lake. Daft buggers that they are. Sorry I got the ball stuck in a tree, and sorry I broke the pink plastic throwey thing trying to knock it out of said tree. Then we drove back and stopped off at a pub where some Guinness was consumed and it got a bit late. So brad was just starting the Chilli at round about ten ish.

Then it all went a bit wrong for me. We sat up till two drinking and talking, and I noticed that I had a bit of a pain in my stomach but didn't think much of it. When I woke up on Sunday I was getting regular painful cramps and felt like shit.

I am so sorry lads for being such a wet blanket that day. They took us out to some lovely places and all I could do was wince, shiver and sleep. So I cant remember what the names of the places were, except to say they were lovely and pretty and the weather was great. Mrs F and shipscook had a great day so I think all was not lost.

When I woke up this morning I felt a bit better, but being the generous sort I am I had given it to S&F (Mrs F is in bed trying not to be sick as we speak and ships is shuffling round trying to cook with out falling over)

Incidentally I am drinking the first glass of wine I have had in well over 24 hours. Now that should show you how ill I was.

But I would love to go back and see them without taking some gastric bug thing with me.

So if I ever get invited back............

So, no tales of extremely silly drunken behavior. I could go into detail about the nature of my illness and exactly what effects it had on me, but that would be too much.

And yes Row, the ORANGE came out.

*Pictures will follow at some point when we all stop feeling sleepy and ill.

The bag is packed and ready,

I am newly buzz cutted and shiny about the head.

I has some Euro Guinness vouchers. Oh yes.

I am raring to go.

I hope the lads are buffing and polishing like crazy as we speak.

I hope they remember to do some housework as well.

Ahem.

Ireland, here we come.

A boss of a small business has a dilemma. Due to a downturn in his company’s fortunes he has to get rid of a member of his office staff. Normally he would do it on a last in, first out basis but the problem is that he hired Jack and Wendy on the same day.

They both had good work records, are both in their twenties, and neither had taken any significant sick leave.

But it had to be one or the other. So he decides that the last one in on that morning would be the one he had the talk with.

On this morning, Jack was in first. Wendy had been out with a friend partying and came in later looking a little hung over. She dumped her bag and coat at her desk and headed for the water cooler for a drink.

The boss sidled over and started his speech.

“Wendy, this is really difficult, and I don’t know how you are going to react to this, but I have to lay you or Jack off”

“Well” says Wendy in between gulps of water.

“You’re going to have to jack off because I have a bastard of a headache”

I am long sighted. There, I said it. It has never been a problem and in fact I like it – It means I am the first one to spot a distant pub sign, when putting new pickups in a guitar I don’t have to bend over it and get a face full of heat and solder fumes, I can spot a good cleavage at 200 yards and am invaluable at spotting road signs before you miss the turnoff when in a car. When I read books I tend to sit them in my lap, not hold them up in front of my face.

But I have noticed something odd over the past 18 months, and I really should go get an eye test.

The thing is, if I have been sitting reading in, oh just for arguments sake lets say a pub, and I look up and try to focus on something (or more normally. Someone) on the other side of the room not more that 15ft away, my vision is just a touch out of focus. It takes about 30 seconds for it to become clear and sharp.

Then when I look back down to my copy of latex nuns monthly it takes a little while for it to come back into crystal clear focus.

I know when I was young they said "it" would make me go blind, but I rather thought it would be more sudden than this.

I am moist.

But not in a good way……………

Bloody weather.

They are still there, on the rings in my ears and nothing has befallen them or me.

I know yesterdays ball related titles were a cheap shot, smutty and childish – But hey, THAT’S ME!

You don’ like you don’ read hokay.

And a you can tell from the total lack of direction of this post, I have nothing at all to bring you.

Although I am wondering why my colleagues sitting behind me are discussing vampire bats.

And I have just realised something. I have never ever been to Ireland! I mean it’s only over there for gods sake! (Nick stands up and points in a random direction and waves wiggly bony finger about)

But that will all be remedied tomorrow.

Jeez I think I may have to go poke about on you tube to find some stuff to entertain myself with and annoy you with – yes YOU, my faithful 0.5 of a reader.

Or not.

Meh.

I am thinking of changing my blog header picture.

Since cutting my hair short, it seems like misrepresentation or something.

But I do love it and am very grateful to the wondrously talented and temporarily absent AJ for creating it.

But I dunno.

Mind you, I have no idea what to replace it with so it is going nowhere right now.

But what do you think?

Stay or go?

You have the power of flight obviously, and you are in a crowded city square.

The entire vast blue vault of the heavens is yours to explore, you can glide with the sun warming your wings and look down on the recently evolved monkies trapped by gravity on the paving, and rise above.

But you are a pidgeon.

And therefore thicker than a whale omelette.

So that must be why you choose to fly across the croweded square at waiste hight, dodging through the crowds so you can get to the other side of said square to see what the tramp on the bench has just dropped on the floor.

It's not because you are a vindictive thrill seeking tick ridden vile nest of plague that just enjoys winding up workers on their lunch break is it?

Nah, thought not.

I know, couldn't resist it.

But having loosened up the ring part of my earrings to ease the insertion of the ball part, I am concerned that any violent movement of my head (say, when vigorously shaking it to refuse another drink) may cause them to fly off like little cannon balls, never to be seen again.

And for those of you who were confused about the type of earring I meant, they look like this:

I have four in my left ear.

And yes, I really have nothing interesting to blog.

Obvoiusly.

After loosening my tight rings.

Yes, as you can obviously tell from the above, I was having a spot of bother putting my Ball Closure earrings back in last night. I had to take them out for a while (happy Beltane by the way) and getting the ball part back in the gap in the ring was a right pain!

Very fiddly and the cause of much dropping of said balls with much swearing and ranting. So after a large glass of mead and a calm down I used my needle nosed pliers to open the rings up a bit, and the balls clicked back into place easily.

Why me no think of that before? Me am dumb that why!