Area 136

I happened across shipscook in the hallway earlier this evening, carrying two glasses of wine in his hands. As he was obviously unable to defend himself I took it upon myself to tweak away at his "raspberry ripples" while his hands were full.

So let that be a warning to you all.

Especialymerly the ladies out there.

Ahem.

So, Mrs F and I took Sarah to Thorpe Park today.

We arrived in brilliant sunshine and a ford focus both of which stayed with us all day. The car obviously stayed in the car park and the sun stayed in the sky.

The first ride Sarah wanted to go on was "The Detonator" but for technical reasons we didn't manage to do that one first off so we went and got wet.

Somewhere in that cloud of water you will see Sarah, me and 14 other people. Let me tell you, that water was FUCKING COLD! as it rained down on me all I could do was just gasp and breath in over and over till I thought I was going to burst! Totally soaked and it was brilliant. Due to the bright sun there was even a little rainbow around us in the boat.

So then Sarah decided we should go back to "The Detonator" and line up again. This is the thing she wanted, her first choice of ride. Is she mental or what.

Yes, twelve bucket seats arranged around a tower that looks a couple of hundred feet high. It goes up slowly, pauses, then drops like a rock.

I sat there next to Sarah holding her hand and up we went. Now no matter how high you think that looks let me tell you, when you get to the top it looks a hell of a lot higher. And as I sat there at the top, I thought to myself;

"I think I may have made a bit of a mistake here"

When I got to the word "mistake" in that mental thread, we dropped.

A split second into the drop, my rear end left the seat and I was free falling. the only thing connecting me to the ride was my left hand on the padded collar thing that was pulled down and clicked into the seat for safety reasons and my right hand holding Sarahs.

a third of the way down I became aware of a sort of growling "rrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRR!" noise. I was even more amazed to realise it was me! I was making an involuntary noise!

The ground came flying up at us and then the hydrolics kicked in and my arse slammed into the seat with a force that made me groan out loud, and then it was over.

Sarah is so brave sometimes, braver than me. I was scared crappless! She was cool.

Mind you, neither of us stopped shaking for half an hour afterwards!

In no particular order:

Rundontwalk

Miramazing

Rowtheboat

Soy.

Sorry if I have left anyone out.

What?

Oh right – you see technically I have shared a bed with them all. With the exception of Soy, all of the above have stayed at Rancho Collapso. All of them slept in the spare room, which I would have been sleeping in the day before. So after a change of bed linen they slept in it (not all at the same time, that would be kinky) then after each one left the bed linen was changed again and I resumed my sleepy activities of a night in the very same bed.

So we did infact share it. OK, not at the same time but if I had said that you wouldn’t have bothered to read the bloody post.

And as for soy, she slept in the bed in the blue room at Landers and Brads in Ireland and on a completely different occasion, so did I.

OK I am pushing that one a bit, but why not.

And I am so tired I think this post is a good idea.

Which just goes to show.

Right now – Friday lunchtime pint!

Where ever you are.

Have a good one fella.

excuse the heavy use of wossnames but that just about sums it up.

Just read Juzzzys post and thought I would share this picture with you.

As some of you will know, my dad was in the Royal Navy during WW2. He volunteered - but he could not swim. Now I think I know where I get my habit of putting myself in potentially bad situations. Anyway, they put him on a boat. Not a big one, but the Germans did try to sink it a lot anyway.

Especially on D-day.

I was nothing personal, it was just that they objected to the allies trying to get on the beaches before them. Well you know what Germans are like about sun bathing.

So anyway, below is an LCL of the type my dad spent the war on stubbornly not getting sunk. This is also the type of boat that he and his shipmates almost stripped bare on the voyage back to the US navy dockyard when the war was over. It was only borrowed you see. (see the post "my father the thief")

And no, it's not the one in the front with wheels on - it is the one behind it.

He did once tell me a little bit about D-day. About some of the stuff that happened when they were landing the troops. I am glad it was only a little bit. Horrible.

It is amazing some of the things our grand parents or parents had to do, ordinary people having to do terrifying things. Some of them gave their lives.

Luckily for me my dad didn't.

She seems to have got impossibly tall in the two weeks away. Of course she has not - a little perhaps - but she just looked a lot taller. And her skin seems to be more like mine than her mums, she does not have much of a tan but you can see she will go brown easily like me and not go red like Jo.

She has also picked up another bucket of cocktail umbrellas and novelty stirrers like she always does, and proceeded to make me a "cocktail" of apple juice with a peach half impaled on the glass rim into which she sticks the various flags and umbrellas and sparkely things the way she saw them do it in the rock bar her and Jo spent most evenings in.

She gave me a massive hug.

She told me tails of water parks and the friends she made and the things she saw. Showed me the picture of her on a donkey that carried her along cobbled streets in the old part of town.

I am so glad she is back.

What is the best answer you have ever given anyone in reply to a stupid question?

My two personal favourites are:

I was talking to someone on Holiday who came from Birmingham.

“Oh my mum came from Birmingham” said I

“Really! Which part”

“All of her”

Well it’s an old one but a good one.

My next favourite was when talking to a distant relation at one of those big family barbies that you get dragged to once you marry into a family that likes that sort of thing.

“Where do you work?” they asked me.

“Central London”

“I wouldn’t like to commute into there every day, where do you travel to?”

“Liverpool Street Station”

“And what do you do?”

“I get off, that is where the train stops”

Yeah, I’m a smartass I know. And I’m bored.

Sooooooo

Tell me your snappy comebacks to dumb questions.

Edit - I have just realised that the above where not really stupid questions, they were inane and dull conversations that I wanted to end. So maybe I should re title the post. Ah sod it.

Meh.

Tonight I get to see Sarah after her two-week holiday in Rhodes!

God I missed her.

I am going to have a takeaway back at the house with her and Jo before Sarah goes over to her Grannies to be looked after while Jo is at work tomorrow.

Then on Friday night she will come and stay at S&F’s with me and we are taking her to Thorpe Park on Saturday. I will have to go on all the scary rides with her.

Oh dear.

What a pity.

Hehehehehe.

In other news I am still busy as a thing with lots of things to do here, so now that the city is doing the dance of a thousand sandwiches I will trawl about the net and have a catch up.

Over the past few weeks I have purchased a number of small items for "the flat"

This imagined place where I will live and be happy. I have not bought anything major because as I spend most of my time at S&F's there is nowhere to put it. And there are enough things of mine cluttering up their house as it is.

But I have just got a few small things that will make it feel more like home, and give me something to moan about having to dust.

The reason for this seemingly pointless activity is to move this place from being a dream into being a reality. Apparently this sort of behaviour works, so I am told.

So when we were coming back from Santorini I got a set of ceramic coasters featuring ancient greek lads and lasses being somewhat "energetic" shall we say. They will have to be hidden when sarah comes round.

The weekend that Mira was with us, I got a small brass compass in a very nice wooden box that will sit on a little shelf in the main room. I can see it in my head.

The next day when we were at Avebury I got a celtic patterned cotton throw to go over the big single bed sized bean bag that will go in the front room as a spare bed.

And on our way home from Barcelona I got a small ceramic bull figure, hand painted to look like it is covered in lots of shards of multicoloured tiles. That is going to go next to the compass.

It all makes it seem more real in my head.

Maybe it will be real in the realest sense of the word soon.

Well ya gotta have hope eh?

Well so far my day has sucked more than an Essex girl at a nude wedding.

Why am I so late with the checking in thing?

Because I have been inundated with work! Egad!

And the rest of the week looks pretty much like it will be the same.

Bugger.

So here I am, forsaking all sandwiches and keeping only unto blog, as they almost say in that hateful ceremony.

I need to catch up as I have not had a decko round these parts since my brief one this morning as I gulped my black as sin coffee.

So let’s see what you have all been up to then………..

Barcelona Harbour/marina.

Click for full pic.

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The scale of this place is amazing. As is the fact that they have been building it for about 100 years. Ask them to put up a hotel on an unspoilt beach however.......

Damn hot, soup like air and boiling clouds through which the bright Spanish sun would burst at regular intervals. 29 – 31 degrees of heat and a hotel room with no air con. People in the next room shagging very loudly. A very small lift creaks you up to the fourth floor and almost gives up under the weight of two people and hand luggage.

The square outside is vibrant and full of Palm trees from which green parakeets squawk at each other, we sit at a Cervesary beneath the arches and drink cold beer and realise we have been up since 3am. A siesta in our boil in the bag hotel room does not seem very inviting but may have to occur at some stage, but it is only 11 am.

Side streets off Las Ramblas are narrow and inviting during the day, some less so in the evenings but down there wait the small and interesting Tapas bars Cervesaries. Never eat or drink in the places in the middle pedestrian strip of Las Ramblas, not unless you have a lot of money you want to get rid of. And never eat in a place that does not display prices on its menu board.

A city of insane architecture, you can turn a corner and be stunned by an apartment block that looks like it is melting or made of bones. The women of Barcelona are just as jaw dropping, dark haired and dark eyed and all sorts of curvy. I almost fell down the steps of the metro looking at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. English girls are easy to spot, badly dressed in ill advised shorts and strappy tops by day – badly dressed like girls on their lookout for a hen night to join in the evening. And always pale and blond.

The harbour is a good place to head for in the evening, a little cooler and bright with reflected light, fish leap in the water as they shoal together to avoid bigger fish. Big yachts and cruisers bob and incite fantasies on lottery wins or fame and fortune. Then you see people sleeping on the grass in some of the squares. Compare and discuss.

Food can come slowly but is good when it arrives. Some serving staff could give French waiters lessons in Surly, some bar owners are not exactly welcoming, but you just move on to the next one. There is always a next one.

So - Barcelona. I liked it.

(If you want detail, look out for Shipscook posting stuff. He actually wrights stuff down you know.)

Our hotel, on the left. Fully deserving of it's solitary star but at least it was cheap and right in the centre of things.

The square outside at night,

And if you came out of the hotel and turned left you could saunter down here, just not after dark.

I iz an gargoils!

Seen on that there unfinished big church in Barcelona.

which one would, if they chose to admit it, regale you with tales of them getting so drunk in Barcelona on Saturday night that they spent all Sunday claiming to be about to die, being unable to walk more than 200 yards without having to sit on a bench to recover, Claim frequently that they would never eat or drink again, Sit slumped in chairs outside cafes with there head resting on the cool metal tables for relief, and had to use the rest room in a posh looking eatery when the need for a "technicolour yawn" became too great?

A - Me

B - Mrs F

C - Shipscook.

Clue - the yawn took place in a ladies toilet.

ahem.

Yes we are back.

So I leave work early and get my hair cut.

I am officially now "Beyond tired" - yep, straight out the other side into bouncing around everywhere.

On the train home I get a call from the estate agents, basically something has come up and can the woman come and see the house at 6.30 instead of 7.00?

Yeah no problem.

I arrive at the house. Our for sale board is missing. Has it blown over? I check both sides of the fence - Nope, it is fully gone. Some drunken idiots must have taken it for a laugh.

I phone estate agent.

"Our for sale board has gone"

"Ah, yes, the board man seems to have got ahead of himself"

"A letter is going out today to all households on our books, as of this weekend we are ceasing trading"

"We are not getting enough through sales so we can't continue"

Estate agents can't just say "We're fucked" can they.

So this letter will tell me what is going to happen, and I will have to find another estate agent to sell the house.

Bugger!

I need a weekend away.

Oh right!

But nervous energy will get me through.

Because after about three hours sleep last night what I really need to do is go to Rancho Collapso and see Shipscook and Queene Mab, eat the nom worthy meal ships will prepare and then go to bed.

Because we are all getting up at about 04.00 in the morning to go to Barcelona. An early night after a stress free evening is what I need.

But no.

I have to leave here via the barbers (Buzzzzzzzzzzz - alla da hair iss gonna!) get home and rush round tidying things, opening windows to let some fresh air in, getting all the apples of the lawn in the back garden - because no one wants to know they are going to spend the best part of late summer picking up to 100 apples off the lawn each week - and make sure the place is in reasonable repair as someone is comming to veiw it at 07.00 tonight.

And I have to be somewhere near awake to try and charm/intimidate/beg them into buying it.

Then, after they eff off I have to travel in towards London, change trians and travel out again to get to Rancho Collapso then eat, try to relax enough to sleep and then get up at "bugger off!" O'Clock for the weekend trip.

And apparently Spain yesterday declared three days of national mourning for the plane crash victims. Hmmmm, this could make the trip interesting.

Probably by the time I get to lay my groggy head on a pillow I will have gone beyond tired and not be able to sleep.

There is always the old stand by of crashing out on the plane with your head on the tray table I suppose.

I has an headache. Again.

Meh.

If you don’t have this in a relationship, then you don’t have a relationship.

I have read a couple of posts people have blogged telling of the results of their assuming false ID’s on websites and chatting up their partners. The results generally were not good.

And I know that some people are doing this sort of thing even now on various sites, being someone they are not, seeing if their partner will take the bait.

Really, if you feel you have to do this sort of thing – it is over between you.

Move on and find someone you do trust.

Even though you don't hang around here much anymore, I still hope you have a great day and everything is going well or at least better for you and yours.

XXXXX

1 If you could be any sort of book, Why?

2 How many Cities have all the people you will call friends in your life thought about living in?

3 You are in a dark ally at midnight with no way out, and in front of you is a ravening Vampire. All you can find to use as potential weapons are the rind from a Parmesan cheese, a soggy coppy of "Rubber Donkey Monthly" and the stone from an Olive. Do you

A- Shit your self.
B- Wake up screaming.
C- Wake up screaming and shit yourself.

4 If all the Virgins in the world were laid end to end, would it make a good video?

5 How old were you on your tenth birthday?

6 There is no such thing as saliva, when you eat your teeth are actually crying - discuss.

7 You are at a dinner party and have finished the wonderful meal prepared lovingly by your hosts and are sitting back feeling replete and ready for an after dinner drink. Just then a huge silver back Gorilla burst roaring into the room and throws the hostess face down over the table and begins to take her vigorously from behind. Bearing in mind that you have just lit up a rather fine Cuban cigar, do you take a Port, Brandy or Sherry?

It is a luverleee thing, after a night of good food and a bottle of red wine and a ricard to start, to find an amount of Spiced rum that you didn't actually finish off a couple of nights ago.

This should help relax me into a nice sleep.

Or help me think that being naked in the garden talking to the fish pond at five in the morning is a good idea.

Again.

No, stop it. Not rude innuendo type stuff.

I had a very nice meal in the best, and only, French restaurant in my little suburban town.

And as it was their tenth anniversary (I am amazed that this place has lasted ten years in our chav tastic little town) We got a free bottle of wine with the meal.

It was a very good evening.

Candles, good atmosphere, real French waiters managing to make you feel that you had done something wrong in spite of how friendly they were (and they were friendly) It must just be something to do with French waiters.

They are probably pissed off that they are working in East London and not somewhere in Paris.

And so does my boss.

I am the proud possessor of a first class headache. Real bastard of a thing. Hurty much. And I feel run down and rather turd like.

Which is not good, as I am supposed to be going out tonight.

Bumholes.

And my boss has given me a wonderful big file of stuff to attack in that way I do.

Total Meh out.

I have not done a post today! And it’s nearly lunchtime!

A blog habit, I HAS IT!

Addictive personality you see. I can never do things “A bit” it tends to be all or nothing.

Anyway, I know you really can’t live without my inane bollocks – just admit it!

Yeah, I know……….I am getting my coat.

In other news, someone is coming to view the house tomorrow night. First one in months. Eeeeep!

1. Are you married or single?

I am between nesei and absolute.

2. Do you have brothers and sisters?

One brother and three sisters.

3. Are they older or younger than you?

All older.

4. Have you ever met a famous person?

Loads, including one of my guitar heores, Scott Gorham of Thin Lizzy.

5. What countries have you visited?

Oh crap. USA, Mexico, France, Spain, Turkey, Portugal, Cyprus, Sweden, vairous islands of Greece and Spain, Scotland, Wales and bits of Eastern Europe....erm..maybe a few others - Mauritius is an island not a country? Oh fuck it. I have been nowhere. It's easier.

6. What do you do on Sundays?

Recover slowly. Eat drink and relax. Stay very far away from churches.

7. What kind of people do you not like?

Cruel inconsiderate ignorant people.

8. Who has had the most influence in your life?

My best friend.

9. Would you like to be famous?

I wanted to be, but then I realised that all your bad behaviour would be all over the papers for people to judge. It's better to just go around acting like a drunken rock star than actually being one, because no one cares.

10. How many different towns or cities have you lived in?

This here fancy "The London" mostly.

11. Which do you prefer, sunrises or sunsets?

Both, like to see it set first then come up - then go to bed a couple of hours after.

12. What was the last book you read?

Filling out memes for dummies.

13. What's your favorite food?

Greek.

14. Do you live in a house or an apartment/flat or other?

Ah......Well the thing is yes I do have a house, but the bastard thing won't sell in this climate. I live with friends (well known bloggers of my friends list) most of the time. And they have a house obviously, so house. Soon I hope to have a flat of my own.

15. How tall are you?

5ft 10 ish?

16. What are your hobbies?

Playing guitar, reading, listening to music, blogging (saddo!)

17. What's something you do well?

erm...... play guitar.

18. Which sports do you like to watch/play?

F1 racing.

19. Are you a 'morning' or 'night' person?

Seems to be night.

20. What is your motto?

"That's not right! - I could have sworn I put my pyjamas up behind the Nesquick!"

Meh.

What is your favourite accent to hear a member of the opposite sex talking with?

This post inspired by someone banging on about their personal preference.

Me being an essex boy I find my accent is a wonderful contraceptive.

So which accent gets you hot?

Me? erm. Not sure. Spannish/greek/Mediteranean mebbe. Posh is good. just someone saying yes is generally nice.

your go.

Have a look at the calendar would you, see that there – points outside – that is still technicalericaly summer, despite weather that would put the wind up Noah.

But I have noticed that some of my friends and some other bloggers that I randomly read have mentioned the “C” word and preparations for this most two faced of seasons already.

STOP MENTIONING CHRISTMAS!

At least until November eh?

Lets try to restore some sanity.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

Never mind Channel 5 and all that "The druids practiced human sacrifice" malarky - I have found a far more accurate historic record.

There is a programme on TV called “Julius Caesar and the Druids: Revealed.”

Yep that “Revealed” bit makes me not want to watch it either, but the point of the programme seems to be that recent archaeological finds may back up Caesars claims that the druids were not all tree hugging Sun worshipers and in fact practiced human sacrifice and cannibalism.

Well, nobody knows for sure what they did as the inconsiderate buggers never wrote anything down – all knowledge regarding their religious rights was passed along orally, so no one actually knows. And later scholars thought that JC had just portrayed the Druids and ancient brits as savage barbarians to make his invasion seem more valid, when he probably did it to make a political name for himself. Rome was trading with Britain and getting gold and woollen cloth out of the deal so why go kick the crap out of them?

“Because they are savages and eat people that’s why! Lets kick their arses!”

Or summink.

Anyway, may be interesting to watch, but it is on channel 5 so could be a bit heavy on the badly acted “dramatisations”

Just got this from Shipscook.

I know it's childish to laugh at foreign place names but still.

http://www.banfflakelouise.com/experience-the-park/summer-adventures/boat-tours/lake-minnewanka-boat-tours

I'd go just so I could tell people where I'd been.

Hmm, I accepted three invites from bloggers this morning – must be something in the air today. And only one of them did the bad thing of sending an invite and not putting some sort of message with it. Normally this results in instant refusal but today I must be feeling flexible.

I know you didn’t want to know that but I is having the big bored things at work today and have need to distract myself typing total tosh and yes, obviously I could think of nothing good to say.

I will now get my virtual coat and back out of this post while I still have a shred of reputation left.

I have a nasty feeling more rubbish is in the offing.

To her cold northern university town, and I will miss her.

She is after all my favourite Goddaughter.

But I will be up their in the cold place soon-ish to celebrate her birthday with mass curry and booze consumption and to fulfil the role her friends have bestowed on me – “The Vodka Fairy”.

So have a safe trip Moff.

In other news, why do people you have not heard from for ages only decide to call you as you are sitting down to eat?

Bugger.

Happy Tuesday, if it’s at all possible.

I have been sitting hitting "Random Article" on Wikipedia repeatedly in the hope of something interesting turning up.

God will this day never end!

What is the link? Why are there so many shops in Oxford Street pumping out crap R&B songs?

It always seems to be clothing shops as well – how does it work, “Oh I can hear some loud crap music – must go and buy a new t-shirt!”

I also don’t like the way shops up here – Tesco and Boots in particular – are doing away with tills with people on them. Now they have banks of scanning machines where you do it all yourself. OK, you don’t have to stand there waiting while some dead eyed teenager slooooowly scans your purchases and places them in a bag as if every item weighs a ton, but what are they going to do for a “career” now, where are the job opportunities for them?

Like I care.

Nothing much on here as I mentioned, maybe a little bit of work to do on a file of gubbins that will have to be ready for next week but nothing I can’t handle with ease.

Then I am off to Barcelona for a quick weekend of sightseeing, food and drink.

Which is why I am counting down to the weekend already.

Is it not lunchtime yet?

Yep, massive they were.

And their helmets were very shiny.

We spent a very enjoyable afternoon watching a display of Jousting at the tower of London.

Pictures may follow at some point.

After this very macho display we then hit a number of hostelries along the banks of the Thames and then stumbled into a Nandos for chicken and stuff.

I dunno, porn in the morning and violence and booze in the afternoon. Best way to spend Sunday or what ?

Laying in bed with a slight hangover, typing on the laptop and considering watching porn.........

How goes your Sunday morning?

Hope you have a fantastic day!

XXX

And the jacuzzi is running.

I am off for a relax in the warm jets and then bed.

G'night.

HA!

Made ya look.

God I am BORED!

Just a thought after last nights DVD frenzy.

You get a bunch of friends round and bung on an old pirate film. You all have a drink of whatever alcohol takes your fancy (not everybody likes rum) and your glass is re filled every time it empty.

Every time someone on screen has a drink, so do you – in the same way they are. So if they are sipping politely so do you, if they are Quaffing (which is basically pouring it into your gob and spilling loads of it down your front) you do the same.

Every time a damsel swoons – you take a drink.

Every time a serving wench is seen you all shout “Avast behind!”

Every time a ship fires a broadside you down your drink in one.

Every time the romantic music plays as the captain and the pretty girl get misty eyed, you pelt the tv with scrunched up balls of paper and jeer.

Every time anyone says “Aye Cap’n!” so do you – and take a drink.

Every time the crew laugh heartily at something, you all do as well and have a drink.

Then you all fall off the sofa.

I want it to rain, really heavily, right NOW!

Why?

Because outside our office is a low, sleek, very expensive looking Porsche sports car.

A convertible.

With it’s top down.

Hehehehehehe

Due to a winning combination of staggering upstairs to bed at 02.00 this morning awash with rum and stuffed with Doritos, not realising what a bad idea it is to turn off the alarm on your phone while still in bed, Busses refusing to do anything like appear on time and both rail lines that I needed to use being wonderfully delayed and overcrowded – I managed to arrive at work at 10.00, a full two hours late.

A personal best for me.

To check how things stand with my inners self I have just popped my mood ring on and it informs me that apparently I don’t exist, which is nice.

But I do actually feel fine.

Which is surprising.

Happy Friday one and all.

This evening I will mostly be doing sofa sitting and watching one or more of he films I have purchased.

I intend - after posting this - to make a comfy nest for myself on the sofa and place close to hand all the goodies I need.

I have the pile of DVDs

I have an amount of unhealthy savory crunchy stuff.

I have a bottle of Morgans spiced rum. For consumption when watching the pirate films.

And for dinkies during the vampire films (if I watch one of them) I have.......erm.......rum.

well whatever.

It's going to be a long and fun night.

Me on a sofa with films drinks and nibbles in an empty house.

I can't wait!

So I shan't!

Avast me hearties, and all that old stuff.

You know how it works.........

(see the post "Ladies, Would you..")

Just walked up the stairs behind her and couldn't help notice that, apart from the bright pink bra still glowing, she is wearing Fishnets!

Someone is on a promise after work tonight!

Just had a chat with Ships, and he informed me that the other day one of the girls who he works with was overheard to say to another member of the team

“Have you seen that guy with all the earrings? He looks so scary!”

The team member on the receiving end of this intelligence said unto her

“He could be on of Ships friends you know”

To which Ships commented

“He is, he is living in our house”

In response the first young lady commented:

“He still looks scary though”

I have instructed ships to inform her that I am in fact a cute fluffy bunny of a person.

I was bored a bit. Hey, it happens.

So I went for a wander through Wikipedia and put in the search criteria

“Pirate Movies”

Because Pirates of the Caribbean films are all very well, but what about those great old films I used to watch on wet afternoons as a kid?

Low and behold Wiki gave me a chronological list of Pirate movies from the dawn of cinema to the present day.

Thank you God!

So I grabbed a note pad and made a list.

This lunchtime I took said list and my wallet for a walk to HMV’s DVD floor on Londons bustling Oxford Street, which at the moment looks like a damn building site with half of it being excavated and messed about with.

Anywhosname,

I walked up and down the racks with my list in hand – I had to, because although they have sections like “martial arts/extreme Asia” “Horror” “Sci-Fi” “Adult” and “Westerns” they have no section for “Pirates”. Someone is missing a trick there no?

My search was not entirely successful, two of the films I really wanted were out of stock “Treasure Island” and “The Crimson Pirate” Bugger!

But I did get:

“Captain Blood” Starring Errol Flynn

“The Black Swan” Starring Tyrone Power (oh well)

“Captain Kidd” Starring Charles Laughton.

I may have to get a bottle of rum on the way back to the house!

Or a bottle of Blood,

Because I also got “Night watch” and “Day watch”! Yay for filminess.

Also, because I think I went into a kind of blokey shopping frenzy (if such a thing exists) I picked up the follow up to the Frank Miller graphic novel “Batman: The Dark Knight Returns” which is called

“Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again”

Which has got to be the WORST title for a Batman comic EVER!

Go to work in a bright hot pink bra, under a white blouse that although not see through as such is not hiding your Fuchsia fun bag holder, due to the fact that the garments strident hue is glowing through the material covering it?

Well would ya?

Today someone here has decided it is a good look.

Well, it is rather interesting.

Ahem.

I has the afternoon boreds SO.....

Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex?
Yes

How often do you wank?
Depends really. It goes in waves. And no, I don’t mean I wank in the sea!

Where do you wish you were right now?
In bed.

Were you in love with the first person you slept with?
No, just amazed and grateful.

Do you have any guilt inside of you?
Only a small huge amount, sometimes.

Have you ever wished anyone dead, however brief?
Once, long ago. But that is wrong and I don’t do it anymore. I just wish that they have “interesting lives” and let it sort itself out

Assuming you HAD to be, would you rather be a colour, smell or sound?
I would be the most amazing guitar sound ever.

How and when do you imagine you are going to die?I used to think I was going to be run over at a particular corner in London on my way home because I would be looking at an attractive female and not at the cars coming from all directions, as they seemed to. Probably going to die of heart failure as my pulse rate is always too high.

Do you think love is forever?
We don’t live on this earth forever, and no one knows what happens after.

What is your worst fear for your future?
Sarah will not like me or want to see me when she gets older.

Do you LOVE anything about yourself? If so, what is it?
Not much. Maybe that I can make people laugh.

Would you lie if you KNEW you could never get caught?
Truth is the best route, but sometimes the most painful.

Could you have sex knowing someone could hear you?
Yes, provided it was not the parents of the person I was with.

What, if anything, do you do to make people do what you want?
Tie them naked to a chair and get the soldering iron out.

How many times, if any, have you lied answering these questions?
Guess! Do I have to do everything round here!

After spending a while convinced that face book had an age filter on and would not allow anyone under a certain age to use it, I finally managed to set up an account on the damn thing last night.

I have no idea what I was doing wrong but I suspect it was my reluctance to use my real name that did it, and the pseudonyms I chose were not allowable. Or something.

So, I go in. I see loads of people that I know, or rather the site tells me I know because I let it look through my address book, I invite some then get fed up. I have other things I want to do – like see what all the fuss is about re face book.

God it seems dull. There is a “wall” that I have on which I can write and so can other people. I can write on their “wall” if I choose. Oh wow. Colour me impressed? It’s a messaging system! Bloody hell what an innovation. PM’s not good enough now?

I know I have spent a very short time on there but well – “Meh” basically.

And in your profile you can add details of the school you went to, so people can search using the school name and find old buddies from “the happiest days of your life”

Fuck off! I hated my school days and would rather forget them, I know no one from my old school and it’s a choice I am very happy with.

Anyway. Not impressed.

But it must be good for something or it would not be so popular.

Is a song by UFO, and in it is the very appropriate line

“Minutes pass so slowly by on the hands of your clock”

Today is D r a g g ing!

Lunch seems to be on the other side of an Olympic sized swimming pool full of glue and the only way to get there it to wade through it.

Bugger.

And it’s raining.

And yes, the title of this post was deliberately chosen for dramatic effect. Any trick to tempt the punters in eh?

(I am posting this again from one of my other blogs as I am clearing it out. This story was originally put up in 2006 or something, but rather than delete it permanently I thought I would put it up here as some of wont have read it, and I like it)

My father the Thief.

I noticed when I was young that my parents were a bit older than those of my classmates at school. I was a late addition to a family of three girls and one boy, a bit of an accident in fact. The next sibling up from me is twelve years older. The last is 16 years my senior.

So I was probably the only kid in my class who had a Dad that was in the Navy during the Second World War. Silly bugger volunteered while a year too young as well – nutter!

Once, years later, my dad was in hospital on some pain medication and was a bit out of it. Some of the things he told me he saw during the D-Day landings – fuck!

So come the end of the war and my dad and his bell-bottomed buddies were surprised to find themselves still on the surface of the water, not below it. The Germans had not sunk them, they had not smashed the sharp end into a harbour wall while pissed, and they had not lost the ship in a high stakes card game in Singapore – Result!

Due to this amazing bout of blind luck the American Government said, “could we have our boat back please?” and my dad and the rest of the crew had to sail the ship to a Naval base in Canada (?)

Now being of good English stock, the lads on board decided that a few souvenirs would be in order, and ran round the ship stripping everything that was not bolted down, and even stuff that was in some cases. By the time they all piled off in Canada that vessel must have been sitting two foot higher in the water, as a couple of tons of it were stashed in the kit bags of the departing Jolly Jack Tars.

As I grew up, I noticed a few strange things about some of the everyday objects around our house. My mums’ bedside lamp looked a bit odd. This was because it was a map table lamp from the bridge officers ready room.

The tablecloths that mum only used for Sunday tea were odd too. Fine white linen, with embroidered ropes running across spaced eight inches apart. In between the ropes and spaced equidistantly ran the initials “USA” with little stars on either side.
Yep, nicked from the Galley.

One day I discovered a bag of single bed sized, heavy canvas battle flags, a white Ensign, a Union Jack and a Stars & Stripes. Nicked from the flag locker. The stars and stripes became my bed cover for a number of years. I apologise to America for all the things I did on that! Ahem.

The best one though, was the hand grenade incident. Oh yes.

One day I popped out into the garden to see what my dad was up to in his shed. I was a tad surprised to see him standing at the bench vice removing the detonator from a grenade that he had in said vice. Being a bit evil, I waited until the detonator was half out and said “What ya doing Dad!”

When he came down from the ceiling, he asked me if I would not mind terribly coming back in a little while, as he was a bit busy.

What gets me is the fact that this was in the early 70’s – these things (he’d nicked two) had been knocking about since the end of the war! LIVE! Imagine what would have happened if I had got hold of them!

Could have had a spectacular firework night.

Just read half of “Going Sane” which is a Batman graphic novel – yeah, comic geekiness ahoy – in which the Joker kills the Batman.

Once he has done this, he “goes sane” because as he sees it, he has no one to be insane for – his reason for being The Joker has gone, so he stops being The Joker.

Obviously this will all end in tears.

But seeing as I am highly bored I started thinking.

How many people in this world “create” themselves as a reaction to others. How many of us are “who we are” or more importantly “who we think we are” in reaction to someone else being in our lives, or wanting someone else in our lives.

Actually having just read all that, I have no idea what I am going on about or what I bloody mean. That is extreme boredness and coffee overload for you!

Anyway.

On with the afternoon.

Sun

Lots of rain.

Puddles in awkward places.

Feeling chubby.

A nisei of the decree sort.

Looking busy.

trying not to be odd.

Have a good day everyone.

There have to be some advantages to getting old.

Reaching middle age should not all be about divorces and hair loss (from head) and hair gain (from places you don’t want to know about) and joints saying:

“That’s it actually – I need a break or perhaps to be removed totally and replaced with something in a nice shiny shade of titanium”

It should mean freedom from certain physical problems that you had in your teens.

Like spots!

But a blocked pore is a blocked pore, and they will do what they will.

Ah, now you are thinking “hang on you daft old bugger, you should know at your age how to keep your skin clean and avoid such blockages.”

Well thanks for that but this spot is in a rather hard place to scrub on a daily basis.

It is just inside my bloody nose!

And it hurts.

And I can’t even revert to the old teenage spot remedy “Drawing a target on the bathroom mirror and giving it a good squeeze” because as I think I mentioned

IT IS UP MY NOSE!

Just inside my left nostril to be precise.

So anyway, did you all enjoy your lunch?

Two haggard looking American presidential aids sit in a bar nursing large drinks.

“Three goddamn hours we worked with him!”

“John, just let it go will you.”

“The man is an fucking idiot”

“JOHN! That is the president of the United States you are talking about! But….well.”

“Exactly! How hard is holding the flag of your nation up properly! Jeeezus aitch Christ!”

“John, we did our best. He at least now knows the stars go at the top; we have a 50/50 chance he will get it round the right way. Drink up buddy”

more cat pictures

Outside doing the Smokey lurkey thing and low and behold towards me on the pavement comes a cyclist. High tech bike and dorky helmet and total inability to see the nice paved road he should have been riding in – all the boxes ticked.

Just as he passed me he wend down the kerb edging one of the driveways into our buildings big car park and some part of his bike hit said kerb causing it to stop dead and pivot round the front wheel, throwing him forward towards the handlebars.

He was luckily stopped by his Gentlemans trouser vegetables connecting with the nice hard looking bolt assembly at the centre of said handlebars, and as the bike reared up the back part swung round and squashed his left thigh in a rather painful looking fashion.

He did his best to look casual as he staggered off the bike and wheeled it along away from the scene of his fall from “elegance”

But I was laughing like a drain inside.

Serves him right.

With a horrible and loud electronic squawking, the Monday morning fire alarm test reminds me that the weekend is officially over.

Just what my fuzzy head needed, not.

Welcome to Monday people.

Meh.

A fair few bloggers on my friends list have gone on and on about how wondrous and orgasmic those little pots of chocolate called "Gu" are.

Well Mrs F, Mira, Moff, Shipscook and little old me have just had a pot of said hot chocolate substance each to finish off our lovely meal.

Everyone seemed to enjoy theirs but I was rather unimpressed. I didn't eat any more than two small spoonfuls.

Some people on here, those who have raved about Gu, have said things along the lines of this product being "Better than sex"

Hmmm.

I'm sorry, but if you think Gu is better than sex you reeeeeeeeely need to fuck someone else.

Seriously.

Just back in from our daytrip to Avebury with Mira where we, quite lidderally mate, went round in circles.

The circle being the circle of stones that surround the village. Very interesting place and pretty too. We strolled around looked at the standing stones, and those of us who felt the need copped a quick feel of said large lumpy objects by way of picking up any "vibes" and such.

I was too busy trying not to stand in sheep shit. There was a lot of it about in that field.

Then a pub lunch and the almost inevitable visit to the shop they have there, where the girlies purchased even more stuff than they did yesterday.

The weather was the normal british summer stuff that we have come to know and love this year - bright sun and blue skies for twenty minutes then rain and cloud for twenty minutes. Once you get into the rhythm it you can time your trips to the pub or gift shop to match the time of the showers. Well nearly anyway.

It was not a bad way to spend a Sunday.

Went to Greenwich today for a look around the market and then have some noodles. This is a thing we do when we have fellow bloggers staying with us apparently but this time if was Miras turn, I just wish the weather had been better.

Shipscook and I were trapped in a market with FOUR WOMEN! male shopping hell! Mira Moff Mrs F and Sarah had to look at all the shiny things, all the fluffy things and all the pleasant smelling things.

I a fit of pique, I bought myself an old brass compass. Just a small pocket one mind you, but I HAS ONE!

Now I am sat here with a glass of red wine and waiting for Mrs F to serve up some of spicy lentil soup as a starter to a monk fish curry that Ships is cooking.

Hope your evening is going well.

Spending an amount of cash on something you do not in anyway need is a fantastic feeling.

Unless it’s Heroine of course.

But anyway, it feels good.

Paying bills is a necessity

Having holidays is also a necessity if you want to stay sane.

Buying food is helpful if you want to stay not dead.

But just spending a lump of cash on an object you really don’t need but you want because – just this once - you have decided you’re worth it,

feels GREAT!

Which means “Gear Acquisition Syndrome”

I reeeeely want an Electro Harmonix Micro POG.

POG standing for “Polyphonic Octave Generator”

Which basically is……….erm……….

A box that makes your guitar sound funny.

As if my cack handed playing was not doing that already.

Ooooh, lunchtime soon – I can feel Denmark Street pulling at my wallet.

Bugger bugger bugger.

Listen weather, JUST STOP IT!
Piss down from grey and moody skies or blast us with hot sunshine!

ONE OR THE OTHER!

Please stop alternating every twenty fucking minutes!

Don’t make me come up there!

It should not be necessary to spend over five minutes walking around via various floors to find a toilet cubicle you can bear to use.

One that does not have a busted lock, one that does actually have some toilet paper, one that does not look as if the last person to use it had a sprinkler valve fitted to the end of their cock, that does not smell like the last person to use it had not washed in two years, that has not got a badly cracked pan that emits the delightful smell of the sewers, one that does not look like the last person to use it was an armless gorilla (because a Gorilla with arms would have surely flushed the fucking thing!)

And maybe when that rarest of things – a passably usable toilet cubicle is found – it is not too much to ask that the hand dryer stays on for more than two seconds and has a bit more power than an asthmatic mouse with a cough!

The toilets here are vile and poorly cleaned.

The office though, is all sparkly and white.

Next time I am dumping in someones desk drawer.

Out in the garden just now, watching the sky light up and listening to the thunder.

I love thunder storms!

There is blanket cloud and the flashes make it look like a bright white sheet is stretched across the heavens. I love the dull slow boom of far off lightning and the sharp ripping crack of closer strikes.

Have you ever been so near to a lightning strike that the flash and the thunder are simultaneous? It is the loudest sound EVER! It hurts and makes you jump out of your skin!

Mind you, the good thing is that the storm may ease the humidity down here but if it goes on past bedtime I will have trouble sleeping because of the noise.

So I don't love thunderstorms unconditionally then, obviously.

For those of you who are bored and have plenty of time on your hands, obviously not you Soy have a go at this.

You have probably all seen it before, but what the hell.

Hinstructchermacons -

1) Go to the link below. After reading each window, click on the boy in
The lower right corner of the picture.

2) In the last window type in your answer in the white box using the
Keyboard (there is NO cursor).

3) Watch the paper in the boy's hand.

http://digicc.com/fido/

No I have not done something hog whimperingly stupid and reckless – at least not this time.

What I mean is I never remember things that should be ingrained into my mind by now.

Like the fact that the light switch in our kitchen is on the right hand side of the doorway as you go in, but even after 13 + years of living there I reach to the left hand side.

And the fact that the doors in the outer office push away from you on your way out, yep – I constantly try pulling them AND there is a sign on them saying, “Push” just above the handles. Worked here for about four years so far and it’s not sunk in yet.

And yes I do get it all wrong on the way back in as well, but I have seen other people do this so I don’t feel quite so retarded.

And after god knows how many years you would think by now I would remember which one of those two big white metal things in S&F’s kitchen was the fridge and which one was the freezer. No.

I must be a slow learner.

I just heard the daftest lyric of the night on Planet Rock.

"Some people are like Gravy"

"Spilled on Gods clean shirt"

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaar out maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.

deep or what.

I bet the knobber was up for all of five minutes thinking of that nugget.

I don't like them one little bit, never have done and never will.

One of the bastards is constantly making his webby home on the outside door handle to the back door tonight, so every time I come in I almost touch the horrible vile thing!

Just feck off! Is the fact that I have burnt your web down with my zippo three bloody times enough of a warning!

Yargness in the extreme.

According to "Grace note" - the site that my Sonic Stage software uses to get the information for the CD's I am uploading - Judas Priest are "General Pop"

WHAT!?

Get te fuck!

Bollocks.

I am trimming my friends list.

Too many people have done nothing for too long.

I am doing said thing right now.

Why? Because I feel I should. Which must be a bad sign – nothing of any interest will emerge from me sitting here typing the first thing that comes into my head.

I have had a busy morning and will attempt to catch up on stuff on here later after the lunch skulk read listen to music beer thing I tend to do at lunch times.

I am feeling odd but that is just because I am.

It always surprises me when I find out things about my personality that I suspected all along. I don’t know why because surely I know what I am like by now?

Ah random gibberish – it will never go out of fashion. Or rather I will never stop pumping it out, as when I do this sort of thing (sit at my desk gazing vaguely around the room and touch typing as I think) loads of crap comes out.

I wish the house would sell.

I wish it wasn’t raining.

I wish I didn’t gain weight so easily.

I wish I had a huge lake of money.

Wishy wishy wishy.

Time for splishy splashy.

(from the makers of “what the bloody hell is he going on about?”)

Yesterday on our way home we popped into the Chalice Well garden in Glastonbury. Now normally you can buy some little “votive candles” which you can light and leave near the wellhead if you so wish. A lot of people do, but there were no candles for sale on Sunday.

This was because apparently the day before, someone had managed to “set themselves on fire” while attempting to light one of these things “So we are not selling them today”

Excusermer me?!

Surely the day before was the best day to not be selling candles then.

I don’t mean to be rude, but a lot of the people who go to the gardens are pretty combustible looking – long hair, beads of various materials and ethnicity around their necks, big beards, “traditional” style “robes” of no fixed fire retardence and so on. Did no one ever think “Our general demographic appears a bit bonfirey don’t you think?” and maybe decide to not sell them candles?

And when I say “candles” I mean those little squat “T light” things, not massive big church style jobbies.

Or did they think that this unfortunate person was just the first in a wave of careless people about to descend on them?

“Oh blimey Doris, the first of the year has gone up in flames in the top garden – best stop selling the candles for a month. I don’t’ know, they get here earlier each summer”

But anyway, we had a nice visit there amid the women with flowers in their hair hugging trees. No they were not naked. Like I’d take Sarah somewhere like that.

People in flames is one thing, but public Nekkidness? Now reeely.

Seen below at the annual address to the congress of Sea Birds held at Padstow, President C.Gull underlines his proposed food harvesting guidelines to the assembled mass of squawking chip stealing bastards.

You BASTARD Laptop!

Yep, three days into the holiday this wonderful machine decided to have a sulk and not see any wireless connection at all. Even when we took it for a drink in a pub with a very nice gothy red headed bar maid and free wifi.

Sod.

So that is why you have been spared my drivel for most of the week.

Just arrived back at S&F's after a very long journey and have deposited Sarah back safe with her mum. Sarah had a good time and even managed to get some sun, even though we had a hell of a lot of rain for the middle part of the holiday. She enjoyed the billowy cliff tops and the fact that there were bunnies roaming the site which were quite used to people, and ducks used to regularly wander by our door to see if we had anything for them.

Anyway, there will at some point be some piccies of various places like the Eden project, tintagel, Lands End and so on and so forth (the first will probably be from Queen mabe - you know what she is like.)

Anyway, anything interesting happen while I was gone?

Any dramatic punch ups, blog burnings, witch hunts, stories of shame?

Hmmmmmm?

(PS I am still very greatful for my friend lending me this laptop, and was just kidding about it being a bastard. It is still way better than the one I have at home)