Just nommed an "all day breakfast" sammich from Prets.

Now, I know you may be suprised to find that I skipped my favoured Fish sammich (raw salmon with black pepper) but I fancied a change.

This "all day breakfast" thingey is good but it contains

1 Egg. (OK, but not fried - chunky egg mayonasie if you will, but as it is egg based I will let it go.)

2 Bacon. (well good, this is breakfast all day after all)

3 Tomatoe relish (should of course be sauce and preferably brown BUT this will do)

4 WATER CRESS! - who the fuck has cress for breakfast no matter what time of the day it is taken?!

Sandwich shops. Utter tossers.

Mr S and I looked at each other, then back at her....

"Nah, we're fine"

Lunchtime approaches and I am ready for it.

This office around me is being observed to a background of the Rolling Stones, Metallica, The Black Crows, Stone Gods and whatever else comes up on shuffle. Does not make it look any more welcoming, but at least I can’t actually hear them.

I am about to break out into the cold but sunny streets and dodge the lunchtime wanderers and skip over the prone homeless person who has made a nest against the wall of our building and make my way through the dirty crowded streets of this city. I love it actually.

Some one I know ran screaming out of London claiming it was killing them; they took off to set up a life in a town off in the countryside. But the thing is, when you run away you tend to take yourself with you. And what if you are the problem? You can’t blame the city for everything.

I would have the same rubbish in my head where ever I lived.

So here will do for now.

Yes I bloody knew your post would have spiders in it ya daft tart so I didn't bloody look!

But ooooooh loooky, there in my "recent media put up by your inconsiderate bloody friends" bit at the bottom of the page, why stripe me pink and arachnophobic, BUT I CAN SEEEEE THE BLOODY EIGHT LEGGED GIT HANGING LIKE A BLOT OF FEAR AGAINST THE EVENING SKY!

God you must hate me soooooooooooo much.

About an hour.

Today has been a day of getting up late, watching the Grand prix (and jumping up and down laughing a Ferrari like a nutter, so much so that S&F came in to see if someone had died as I was cackling so much) and general slobbing out.

All done in my blue stripey dressing gown.

Even Shipscook and Mrs F got dressed before me.

But I suggested a trip up to the Victoria to enjoy the last of the good weather so had to get dressed.

So I did, we walked up to the Vic and the bear garden was full of people with the same idea as us.

Well I don't know if they had all only just got dressed then gone to the pub, but there were a lot of people there making the most of the weather.

We only stayed for a little while and came back (the call of the sofa was too strong) so me and Ships got back in to slob mode, put our dressing gowns back on and watched Batman Begins while Mrs F bobbed around in the kitchen making a lasagna (which is smelling pretty good as I speak)

So today, I has been an bit of a slob.

Well it is Sunday after all.

Hope you are all doing great.

x

I has it!

What the hell is rock club (or gig) throat when it is at home?

It’s that condition you get from spending all night in a loud venue talking over the noise of the DJ or bellowing your order to the people behind the bar while the band are on.

You wake up the next day with a voice about half an octave lower and a bit gravely.

But….how the hell did I get it today, I have not been near a rock club in years? Maybe it’s just too much Red wine and too many ciggies….

Then it hit me, I was drunkenly singing along to “Jesus just left Chicago” and “Blue Jean Blues” last night when they came on the DVD.

Stoopid old git.

Someone is feeling a little under the weather due to vodka consumption apparently.

"Neeeeek, My head hurts. Halp"

Coming to me for that sort of help is a bit like going to Long John Silver for Tap dancing lessons.

Oh well, maybe they will learn to respect the vodka now.

As she normally posts at this time of day and this is the PC she normally uses.

Check the 'effin time code!

Yep, I is up and have fed the damn kittehs!

Normally Tolley would come boinging onto my bed at about 04.30 going:

"MorninggetupLOOKATMYBUMsorryisthatyourface
wannafeedmeyesIwilltakemypawsoffyoureyeballs
andstoppurringdownyourear
ifyoujustFEEEDMEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOW!"

Why he does this to me I will never know as I just swear alot, then thankfully I normally hear the alarm go off and Shipscook hauls himself out of bed to take care of the furry little buggers and I can go back to sleep.

This morning I cheated and closed my door.

Ha!

So when it was opened I was met by a very happy little Cleopatra chirping away and looking hungry.

So now they are nomming away and I am having a coffee and doing this.

How is your morning going then?

ZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Some of you out there have expressed concern over my ability to look after a couple of cats for a night.

Frankly that hurts me deeply people.

I know I may come across as a complete disaster area some times but I am shocked by your low opinion of me.

So, I thought I would just let you know that both Shipscat 1 & 2 are in, safe, and fed.

And so am I.

Now if you will excuse me, I am flouncing off upstairs to run my jacuzzi and after a good long soak (or at least till my finger tips go all wrinkly) I am going to watch a DVD.

And NO! not a "special interest" one purchased from the lower ground floor of the wonderful Soho "bookshops" but in fact "ZZ Top live in Texas"

So there.

Have a good evening.

I may pop back later just to prove that I have not burnt the place to the ground.

SEEEE MATT! that's how you do it.

Ahem.

But seriousamaly folks, tonight S&F are out having a jolly up and I am in charge of Ptolly and Cleo, otherwise known as shipscat 1 & 2.

And I know some of you will be shocked that S&F have gone somewhere without me, but trust me - despite the appearing like we are a three pack we are not joined at the hips.

So I will be off to Rancho Collapso in about 50 mins and I will play "hunt the kittehs" and entice them into the house. I will then have a little relax with my guitar and after that watch the Simpsons. And possibly have some wine.

Ahem.

All the while Shipscats 1 & 2 will be sat in the hall staring at the front door.

SC1 "Where is the big hairy monkey that feeds us, he is normally here by now?"

SC2 "Maybe we better ask the little shaved monkey if he knows how to work the food cupboard. Or we could go crap in his bed?"

SC1 "Nah, lets go claw his legs till he gives in, I think big hairy monkey is not comming"

So I will feed the little darlinks, then get my kit off and have a candle lit Jacuzzi possibly with some more wine, then maybe watch a DVD on Shipscooks humungous tv.

I could of course go down to Soho and get a "special interest" DVD, but who knows. The evening is mine to do with what I wish. And so is the contents of S&F's drinks cabinet and fridge. The FOOLS!

Providing I feed the cats that is.

And I will

Because (and if you tell anyone I will kill you) I am actually rather fond of those two little furry gits.

Oh yes, but only if you are

A – a smoker, or

B – you have a bum.

Now A will only be a few of you, but B covers just about everyone.

Let me first introduce you to Magic performed in group A, with what is known as “The Magic Cigarette”

“The Magic Cigarette” is a summoning device which can be used to cause objects, people or Events to appear or occur.

For example, you are waiting for a bus and it is overdue. You take out a cigarette (the magic is stronger if it is the last one in the packet) light it up, inhale and SHAZAM! The buss appears.

This also works if you are hanging around in the street waiting for someone. Also it is good for ending Fire alarms as I just found out – we evacuated Weird inc for a drill and as we stood outside in the chill air I took out a ciggie, lit up and the alarm stopped and we were told to go back inside.

Magic in category B is done with your bum.

You are waiting at home for a delivery and you are on your own. They have given you a very broad delivery window “Between 9 and midday guv” so you are sat there waiting. You reeely need to go to the toilet but hold it for as long as possible. In the end, fearing for the safety of your underwear, you give in and dash to the toilet. Just at the point of no return, when “the babies head has engaged” as it were, the doorbell will go. You have summoned the delivery person with what is known as “the magic poo”

This can also work in airport departure lounges. Your flight is delayed and you have been sitting around for ages. No sign of a gate on the boards for your flight, and your bowels that were locked solid up till now with “Getting to the airport on time and getting through security without an argument” anxiety have loosened up quite alarmingly.

You go to the toilet and once again, at the point of no return, you hear your flight called for immediate boarding!

On the plane the magic can continue. If you have not had to have the magic poo in the toilets of the departure lounge you may find you have to use the toilet on the plane (Oh the horror!)

As soon as you reach that special point, on will come the seatbelt signs and a little “bing bong” will tell you its time to go back to your seat. As the plane starts to shake wildly you realise that your magic poo has summoned air turbulence, as it always does.

Use this knowledge wisely my children.

This has been a public service announcement on behalf of the being very bored at work Association.

Well there is no need for panic. I sit at my desk as normal, ready and primed to look busy when there is a point, but there is at the moment little point as the general work ethic of the team has gone off for a long walk somewhere windswept and interesting.

I still sit and discreetly gaze at the attractive women that work on this floor now, and there are many of them. But as you know, what I consider attractive covers a wide age range and body shape range so there is far more for me to gaze at than your average old lecherous bastard would be able to find.

The black hole coffee is flowing, unlike inspiration for entertaining blog posts and I sit here fighting the pull of lolcats.

And being a total idiot, you would think I would have packed enough cheap cigarettes for my two day stay back at the House, but no. All my cheap £2 packets of Marlboro are snuggled up next to the bed in “my room” at Rancho Collapso, so I will have to go and suffer the wallet shock of buying an over taxed packet of English ciggs at some point today.

Well then.

I wonder how long this calm mood will last?

More industrial strength coffee I think.

I am listening to the "new" Thin Lizzy live album that was recorded in 1975 or something, and drinking some wine.

Then I will listen to the new Queen + Paul Rodgers album "The Cosmos Rocks" (shite name for an album) and drinking more wine.

And then we will see how I feel.

Me that is.

You may remember that a couple of months ago I told you of what I hear in my head depending on whether or not the skilfully flicked cigarette end I have aimed at the gutter drain goes in or not? (Han Solo saying “great shot kid, that was one in a million” if it goes in or Luke saying“It’s no good! It impacted on the surface” if it does not.)

But here is something else I should probably not share but will.

Whenever I go into one of the toilet cubicles here at Weird inc, I am always a little concerned to find the lid down. Not just the seat, but the lid as well. Now as ladies are always telling us chaps, we NEVER put the seat down. C’mon ladies – it ain’t made of lead, do you want us to piss all over it or move it your bloody selves eh! But anyway, seeing the lid down worries me because I have a quick mental vision of what I fear I may find when I lift it up.

And no, believe it or not, I am not worried about finding a brace of “Brown Octobers” snuggled in a nest of soggy toilet paper – that would be par for the course.

No, I always have a quick mental image of a totally clean bowl, with a severed head stuck in it.

I know, mad as a goose on stilts.

Click to see why this made me laugh as I can never get the damn things to fit!

more animals

In the Metro this morning, on page 7 in fact, there were two pictures of a group of eight women. In one picture they are all “done up” in big eye makeup and big hair, in the other they appear to be wearing no makeup – but probably are wearing almost as much as in the first picture – and you are asked which look you prefer.

The point of the article is to publicise a new series by that annoying Wok Ban bloke or whatever he is called.

But anyway, looking at the pictures I decided that I personally preferred the one where the women looked like they had no makeup on. They do look more natural and far less “I’m Amy bloody Winehouse me! Gerrus a fuckin’ drink or I will puke on yer shoes!” My preference for the “natural” picture has nothing to do with the fact that they appear to be naked either, before you start.

Mind you, there is a time and a place for big eye makeup, and it can look good. I have been lucky to have been out with some women who did (in my opinion) look good with no makeup on at all, so when they wore a little they looked really good.

So, which look do you prefer?

“While we’re here can we just pop into this shoe shop?”

“Mum and Dad would love to meet you”

“What are you thinking?”

“We need to talk”

“Can you hold my handbag for a minute?”

But it is always a bit odd when you see piccies of a female cupping her naked breasts and doing her best to look seductive in the "recent Photos" section of blog.

I now realise that if anyone is reading this line they will be female as most of the males will have charged off to have a look.

This person had no blog yet and it all seemed a leeeetle odd. Seeing as this is a "family" site I did the decent thing and flagged it.

Eventually.

ahem.

“I will be out tomorrow”

When said by your boss that is.

A text arrives.

“You are quiet today”

“But I posted this morning! Anyway I am still busy here at work. How are you?”

“Not been on line today”

AHA!

The act of observing a blog changes its state, in fact the act of observing a blog could actually tell you if there is one to observe or not. And until you look it could be boring or interesting on a quantum level until you look, then it would resolve itself into one state or the other.

So all our blogs exist in this dual state till they are read.

So maybe we should all stop reading blogs and they would all be the most fascinating bit of writing ever AND the most inane twaddle under the sun AT ONE AND THE SAME TIME.

Or maybe I should lay off the coffee.

Stunned as I am to find that another plan of weird inc has gone wonky, I am glad that I will now not be moving from this possition for a couple of months at least.

That is all

As I mentioned yesterday, one of the most amazing venues we ate in was a place called Old Hansa. This is a restaurant that is owned and run by a very enthusiastic 8ft tall (well he seemed to be a few foot taller than me and ships) guy who is very into the medieval period of Europe and the food and trade and traditions of the period.

After spending some time being guided round the shop in the restaurant after hours and being given free glasses of a very strong drink called "Healing Drops" we decided it would be good to come back the next night an eat at this establishment. And don't ask why we were being given a guided tour after hours - it sounds much better if I don't explain it.

So this is the place from the outside.

Inside though, there is nothing but candle light and the smell of Beeswax candles and rich spicey meaty aromas.

You may think the above photo is a little dim, but it was taken on a high ISO setting - the place was really dark and atmospheric. And they had musicians playing authentic stuff on authentic stuff. Up in the air even.

Or on the steps.

The food was good and authentic too, no potatoes as they had not been found lurking around in south america back then, and lots of spelt which is a barley (spelled S.P.E.L.T. - spelt) ahem.

Even the toilets were as authentic as they could be, given modern H&S rules about plumbing.

But having said that, have you any idea how nervous it makes you to use a dimly lit toilet full of candles and heavy drapes?

Still it was a great place.

I'd go again if only for the wenches, who had far better figures than those skinny musician women.

If it is in fact your birthday you sneaky wee man!

you could, you know, just pop on here occasionally to let us all know you are still alive and kicking.

But have a fantastic day if you can.

See ya soon.

Outside in the garden of Rancho Collapso this morning, I was looking at the Conker tree that stands in the next door garden and normally drops loads of conkers into S&F's garden. This year it looks a little ill.

There are lots of brown spots on the leaves and it has not produced as many conkers as in past years.

Now shipscook always moans about the amount of them he has to clear before he can cut the grass and is happy to let Sarah scuttle around and collect as many as possible for him. You know what kids and conkers are like.

But this year he may not need to worry and Sarah might not be gathering as many.

The conker tree had a small cloud of Squirrels racing around in its leaves this morning, and all you could hear was the tearing of conker skins and the thud of empty shells hitting the ground.

Every now and then a Squirrel would run off along the fence with one in its mouth to stash somewhere but mostly they appear to be eating them on the spot.

Does this mean something? are we going to have a bad winter or has this been a poor year for squirrel food in the wild?

Who knows.

Anyway, off to get ready for my day out with Sarah and S&F.

The thing is that Tallinn is in fact two hours in front of us.

So on our first day it was a bit odd as we kept thinking it was earlier than it was and then we planned to have an early night, which ended up being one in the morning due to meeting the really tall fella that owned the Old Hansa restaurants in one of the said establishments and having a tour of his shop and drinking some very strong medieval booze (for free no less).

But anyway, now I am two hours in front and to me it feels like 11.30 and my body is saying GO BED!

So I will.

Maybe tomorrow I will bung up some pictures of Old Hansa one and two and some other stuff.

We did hardly any of the above activity.

What?

STOP BLOODY LAUGHING!

OK, maaaaybee we had one or two.

Oh bugger it, on our first foray into the city Ships said he knew a place......

Which turned out to be a very cool little bar with fantastic food and bar snacks.

With an odd ceiling.

Yes, that is the ceiling.

We popped in there most days either for a refreshing drink as we passed and a little snackette (second breakfast for some of us. ahem) or in the late dark hours of the morning for a nightcap before bed.

We also discovered a very odd Bavarian style beer hall. Complete with piped ommpah music (and bizarrely a german version of "the Irish Rover" by the Pogues! and on one night a live country and western band who sung things in german. Probably about how their german shepard dog had died and they had to drive a tank all the way home for the funeral in 24 hours) In the back it got more odd, with a little street laid out for you to eat and drink in, in little houses no less. Who said the germans have no sense of humour?

And for some totally unexplained reason, they had this in the foyer.

I have no idea either.

This is also the bar where you could get this - The "U boot"

Yep, a shot glass of Jaegermeister lurking in the bottom of your pint of Lager, leaking out every time you took a drink and making it stronger. Yummers actually. Some of the tables in this place had beer pumps attached to them with a price meter on the wall above them. This is also the venue where Mrs F got chatted up by a very pissed Fin who was old enough to be her dad. I valiently rushed outside giggling and had a ciggie as soon as this scenario developed, safe in the knowledge that Ships would stand by his woman or twat the fella. When I came back in they were standing with coats (including mine) in hand and my unfinished u-boot on a table ready to leg it. I nearly pissed myself laughing

Another of our favorite haunts was the ice bar. I cant think how it got it's name........

No that is not a massive line of coke, it is the remains of these...

Little shot glasses made of ice. The very nice girl in there made us some great cocktails and even introduced me to the Green Fairy........

But that may have to be a friends only post.