Area 136

Drunkedered...

AM

I..

A film full of spaceships and big bugs and it, and nearly everyone that gets eaten is a septic!

Yes it is a pants film but it had a big budget! (I actually typed "it had a big bugger" first time) so at least it will look good.

Unless of course shipscook turns it over, then we will have to watch some other form of rubbish though our drink sodden eyes.

Actuyally

As I type, Ships said "Bollocks!" and turned over to what looks like "later with jools holland" and .....of fuck.

It's Kasabian or summmink.

I may go for a ciggie and another drink.

Oh well.

The best laid drunk plans of drunk men and mice that are drunk and think they are men and I should really just shut up now then yes?

ahem.

Today has been "interesting"

I woke up feeling messed up due to not enough sleep and nightmares about bad things happening to very good people. Again.

went to work and decided to buy myself a Fuzz box to enable me to make noises like The White Stripes. Not from work obviously...but at lunch time from one of the many guitar shops in Denmark Street.

Then got a worrying call from the vendors of the flat I am hoping to buy.

Then had a chat to my estate agent and a slightly more high velocity chat with my ex wife via mobile phone.

The end result was some good news actually but it was a shite way to find out.

Came home, plugged in the fuzz box and made a lot of noise.

Fed the cats.

Made more noise. And a bit more.

Had a Martini.

Had some fun.

Had some food.

Had another Martini.

The day is looking a little better from this end.

And yes.

I have had another Martini.

A text arrived last night from one of our intrepid blog wanderers (Soy to be precise) who found themselves in Berlin.

The basic gist was “Kebabs are great, beer is great, have not slept for 36 hours, yippee!”

Glad to know they are having fun.

After what seemed like ages laying bed looking at the ceiling, I cracked and looked at my mobile phone. 01.03 am. I had been trying to sleep for just over an hour.

I could hear the sounds of people being very much asleep coming from down the hall. Even the cats were asleep! Tolley was probably under a radiator somewhere and Cleo on her favourite cushion on the sofa in the front room, lucky little bastards.

So I lay there and tried for another hour to find sleep by using all the little tricks I could think of to stop my mind running screaming down the dark alleyways of sensible thought. These always lead to sleeplessness – must not think about flats, money, my daughters future, emotional things, people I miss, work, peoples motives – none of these subjects will result in a good nights rest.

So I try the “being on a beach” mental image thing, the “sitting by a river in a forest” thing. I even go all geeky and do the “Piloting a mahoosive space ship through the galaxy” thing. They relax me a little but not enough.

Finally I get something right after another hour or so and sleep, for what feels like all of five minutes. “Don’t get angry” I tell myself and start to try to switch my mind off, or at least point it somewhere calming again.

When I do sleep all I get is bad dreams.

One in particular is not good. A friend has fallen into bad company (to use a crap phrase) and is doing a lot of coke. They are also in debt to a very nasty individual who suggests to them physical favours may make him forget the money and clear her tab. I try to help or at least find out what is wrong (even though I know all the background in the dream, my “character” does not know) and am horrified by the way the friends life is falling apart but they say “everything is fine. Don’t worry”. I feel useless and oddly hurt. I still try though.

I woke up feeling cold and damp, realise that I have been sweating like I have a fever.

So expect to see me face down on my desk today, snoring like a Dyson sucking on bucket of Whale blubber.

Stood outside in the sun just now on the smoking step at Weird Inc, I noticed a young woman walking towards me who looked familiar.

She was sending a text on her phone and concentrating quite hard so maybe it was the look that delayed my recognition of her. But it came to me after a little while -

It was Freema Agyeman from Dr Who, better known (so far) as Martha Jones.

And blimey! She is vair short.

Surprisingly so.

BUT….

Very very nommable and fine looking in real life.

Whatever that is.

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Curled up asleep on a picnic blanket on the edge of the pavement just outside the vehicle entrance to Weird Inc is a “Gentleman of the street”.

He is curled up in a ball on said blanket with his head resting on a pile of blankets and clothes. Next to him is a pile of newspapers and a big linen bag.

The reason he is on the kerb edge of the pavement is so he is near to his other possessions, which are lined up next to each other in the road mirroring the formation of the motorbike parking space a few feet further down.

These possessions are six supermarket trolleys all parked nose out into the road, each one full of plastic sheeting, bags, empty bottles, rucksacks, and a few old suitcases. Three rather old looking cinnamon swirl pastries sit on top of the blue plastic tarpaulin in the last of the six.

Why does someone with nowhere to live need so much stuff?

And how the hell does he manoeuvre six shopping trolleys around when I have trouble making just one go in a straight line in the supermarket?

What a disgrace Berlin is! A shameful city that needs to sort itself out and be more in line with modern progressive cities, like our own beautiful London for instance.

I mean, pray tell me Berlin – what is the bloody point of having a train system that on Friday and Saturdays runs ALL NIGHT!

Have you any idea what you are doing Berlin! You are encouraging people to go out!
Every right thinking, decent, honest, tax paying, upright citizen knows that a big night out on the town is supposed to end with you marooned in the city centre, cold, hungry and unable to go to the toilet (because every single alleyway and street is under the beady eye of CCTV) because the trains have all stopped running at 01.30!

And just maybe Berlin, if you didn’t have your bars open all night as well this “all night transport” wouldn’t be needed.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING!

People drinking all night at their own pace and in a relaxed atmosphere! MADNESS!

We all know that drinking has to be done to a deadline! That is why our streets are so colourful at night. You need to go out and get as much down you as you can with your eye on the clock, then when closing time comes you can stagger around the corner to a club that might be open till 2 in the morning and have a fight with the bouncer because he won’t let you in because you are too drunk. That is the way we do it here and it is traditional, proper and right.

For some reason Berlin, you seem to think that people having all the time in the world, drinking calmly with no sense of an impending forced end to the fun looming over them is the sensible way to go!

You seem to think that having bars still open at four in the morning is normal!

Shame on you!

And getting back to this all night train running fiasco, what is it with this entire letting people drink on the trains thing! I know you claim that it is to stop people from drink driving but I think you are going too far!

As the wise and wonderful Boris Johnson has shown us, we need to be told how to behave. Well us right minded, tax paying, law abiding British people know this obviously. We can’t drink on the trains anymore so it must be wrong.

And why have those little bins for recycling glass on the platforms!

No Berlin, the proper use for empty beer bottles is as weapons in a mass fight that kicks off outside the pub that has (very sensibly) closed at a ridiculously early hour, because someone looked at someones underdressed girlfriend the wrong way.

Having food and drink and transport available all night is clearly utterly mad!

That is why you won’t find London doing anything like it.

Berlin, SHAME ON YOU.

I have found the perfect birthday dress for you...

I think you would look great in it.

Have a great day if you can.

x

But let's not get overly soppy...

So there.

x

Note to self.

Tidy the bedside cabinet in your room at Rancho Collapso, and put away those little “airport safe” sized deodorants and stuff the QM got you and Sarah to take to Sweden.

Maybe then in the morning you won’t mistake the little aerosol of “Impulse” that was Sarah’s for your “Rightgaurd anti smelling on holiday for men” stuff.

A person on my friends list asked the above last night.

Am I?

I have not real problems, no health issues like some others, I have a job at the moment so what have I got to be angry about? am I angry?

Well I am a bit. Wanna know why? (warning: those of you who read the dead dog know some of this)

I have been trying to contact an ex blogger for months and months to see how they are. They have apparently stopped communicating with anyone connected to blog. Her last words to me in a google chat were "Talk in a couple of days."

So as I got no email saying "dont contact me" I continued sending irregular texts and emails and getting nothing back, so assumed they had changed their contact details.

This person was very important to me and had been a good friend. I had supported her through some bad stuff as well. I was told that my friendship meant a huge amount to her.

So early this week I rang her phone from a number it wouldn't know and as soon as she heard my voice she put the phone down.

OK. So all that stuff about friendship was bollocks. Fine.

I know how to pick them eh.

Then, yesterday I heard some news regarding the house sale.

I have been given the impression that the people buying our house had sold theirs already. We had got to the stage of emptying stuff out of the house and had suggested a number of dates to the buyers solicitors for the move to take place.

It was going to be soon.

But yesterday I discover that the real situation is that our buyers have NOT sold their house, and the first time buyers who were supposed to be buying their house are having trouble getting a mortgage.

Our Estate Agent (who I want to have a very intense chat with as I remember it being him that gave us this impression) has suggested that we may want to think about putting our house back on the market.

I finally thought I was rid of that place.

Of course if the people I am trying to buy my flat from find out about this they will most likely want to put their flat back on the market.

FUCK IT!

So maybe I am a bit angry and stressed.

And I don't actually feel like blogging much.

So anyway - I know alot of you are sick of me moaning but you know what I say.

My blog - my rules.

Anyway.

Just wanted to vent.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

Now bugger off.

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Nom nom nom?

Tomorrow (or actually today said the ravishingly drunk and belligerent scribe glancing at his watch) I have no intention of getting dressed.

Well except for the blue stripy towelling bath robe I am now wearing.

Because it will be that there Sunday, and apart from laying on the sofa and watching the Grand Prix - I plan to do fuck all.

so bloody there.

You may now all go about your business.

Never ever throw away any photographs of your ex's.

You never know when you will need a new cover for the Dartboard.

time for a re-fill.

I has a slight drunk on.

Hurrah! say the massed ranks of those of you who may remember my first ever bloscars win - "Best Drunken Blogger" and be now sitting up in anticipation of a load of drunken old cobblers in the style that used to normally start:

HEY! Heard ya missed me well I'M BACK! live and direct in front of your naked steaming eyeballs after six months of no work, it's OOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLD NICK!"

Ya know, the old Dave Lee Roth rip off stuff......never had any originality me.

Hennnnneeeeeway!

Great week this week.

Started with...

So what. It don't matter.

And ended with..

Yeah whatever.

See, notice that up there?

Stopped going on about stuff no one gives a fuck about apart from me!

this could be the start of a new trend.

Yeah.

bollocks to that.

Maybe if I get more pissed and angry I will spill it all out.

Maybe not.

Because fucking tons of people have more shit going on than I do.

meep.

Now stop right there all of you who are going to reply with –

“I don’t know, I was a schoolkid/toddler/baby/unfertilised Ova for most of them”

I was in my twenties back then, and so was Shipscook.

We sit and watch “Ashes to Ashes” and he sometimes says things along the lines of “God the 80’s were shit”. And to be fair, that does seem to be the predominant opinion of most people that lived through them.

Except me.

As I point out to Ships, us rock fans didn’t have it too bad back then.

True – the national charts were generally full of bollocks; a lot of us had no jobs (cheers Mags!) but it was not all bad on the social scene.

Rock clubs were all over the place, sometimes venues that only had a “rock night” during the week, moved it to Friday or Saturday to replace the regular “casual” discos because they took more money on a rock night and had less trouble.

A girl I was at college with worked behind the bar at a venue I used to go to. She told me that the reason our night had been moved from Tuesday to Friday was because we spent more money and the bar staff preferred serving the rock crowd because we were more polite! The thing was the owner of the Venue hated us! But economics made him bite the bullet and move us to the more popular evening.

There were rock nights all over the bloody place in East London back then. You could go to a club that was just a bus ride away on at least three nights of the week. And that is not counting Friday and Saturday.

There were more live venues for bands playing original material. True, a lot of the bands (including some I played in) where not that good – but you could still go see a band you had never heard of playing stuff you had never heard. Sometimes they were very good. Now if you go to a pub venue all you are going to hear is cover versions because that is all people seem to want, and the only style of music the landlord is willing to book.

There was a lot of new music about. Many big name rock bands first emerged in the 80’s – OK, maybe now we listen back to them and think “God they are all singing about their cocks!” but at the time it was a laugh, and new stuff was emerging – I remember hearing a wall of angry noise one night and saying

“Who the fuck is this by”

“Metallica I think, some new bunch of septics…it’s not bad though..bit fast..”

And the rest of their story is history.

There were proper rock shows on the radio. Tommy Vance on Radio 1 and Allan “Fluff” Freeman at the weekends on Capital Radio in London, and Nicky Horn during the week. You didn’t need a digital tuner to find rock, because it was there on big old FM.

So anyway.

Before I fall into the trap of banging on about the size of “Wagon Wheels” (which is really more of a 70’s nostalgia trip) I will shut up…but….

I had a load of fun in the 80,s

In the Squats, hanging out with drug dealers, nearly falling off the back of motorbikes while drunk, weaving through walls of Hells Angels to get to the bar, lugging a massive sound system out of the back of a truck for Neal Kay, being “unwise” with females…

So bloody there.

And no, I am not actually sitting in my rocking chair with a blanket round my legs, drinking a cup of Horlicks laced with brandy as I reminisce – you cheeky young fuckers.

You know your getting old when the first thought through you head as you step into the haven of your current favourite lunchtime watering hole and see the new bar “Man” and you think;

“Can I see some ID, you can’t be old enough to serve booze in a bar surely?”

Because they look younger than your 21 year old Goddaughter….

Meh.

(For more age related shenanagins, see next post)

Which consists of

sadness at life crapping on a very wonderful person. Again. And anger for the same reason.

Amazement or bemusement (can't work out which) at some peoples behaviour.

Boredom after doing a four hour on line training course.

Tiredness after not sleeping.

A strong desire to sit in mollys for an hour with a magazine and the I-pod blaring.

Happy memories of doing something with someone.

I feel all odd now.

Anyway - tis time for lunch.

God what a productive day.

Internal training database bollocky wossname refused to play ball again!

Not that I care. It is just annoying.

Left sat here at my desk running round inside my own head - God I am such a knob head, it is full of rubbish in here about the past, present and possible futures. Needs a good clean up.

Checked for jobs like the one what I duz now on the other internal database - nationwide I looked! there is keen for you - found bugger all.

Jeez I am bored.

I think I may have to bugger off in under an hour.

Meh.

So last night I wrestled a couple of fat rolls of loft insulation in between the conveniently just under loft insulation roll sized gaps in the rafters.

The section of roof space I had to work in was sloped on three sides so an hour spent crouching and kneeling and banging my head has left me a bit achy.

The new section of loft is not well lit at all and even two torches didn’t help my vision, seeing as I was peering out through a pair of rapidly steaming up safety goggles.

In fact it was so warm up there that they began to accumulate little pools of sweat in the bottom of each eyepiece, which sloshed around annoyingly as I worked.

The fact that I also had a thick facemask clamped over my nose and mouth made it all a bit hard to breath and a tad claustrophobic. I felt like I was drowning is soup.

I also had a long sleeved shirt on, which although doing its best to keep the fibres off me (partially successful – very itchy arms after) kept me even more toasty in the hot cramped space.

All my clothes were wet by the time I was done.

I had to have a much-needed shower after and a change of clothes.

The problem with that was that all my underwear has been moved to Rancho Collapso, so I had to wear a pair of boxer shorts that I had put in the pile of clothes destined to go to the Charity shop.

I don’t like boxers, they let things swing about too much for my liking. I prefer my old fella to stay where I put it, if you see what I mean.

Anyway the bloody stuff is done and the knobber from the council will have to come round and check it out. He will probably suck his teeth, make a note in his little book and say

“Well it isn’t very tidy is it, I can’t see to the back of the roof space because of all the extra stuff on top”

At which point I will pin him to the wall and explain

“You try laying an extra layer of dangerous itchy stuff over the rafters and not being able to see where you are putting your feet, so you cant actually get back into the little spaces round the edge to give this stuff an nice tidy trim with out the danger of falling through into your daughters bedroom while sweating so much you feel like you are underwater YOU PICKY LITTLE JOBSWORTH COCKSUCKER!”

Or something. I bloody hate DIY.

That is what my evening has in store for me.

Ya see, we had to insulate the roof space of the extension – the “old” part of the loft is insulated up to the level of the joists so we thought this would be enough for the ceiling of the extension.

But no, the man from the council said it has to be thicker. Why?

Apparently they can only tell us what to do with the extension so for some reason tonight I have to go back to the house and get up in the loft and lay another layer over the two layers already in place.

What utter wankers.

I should be throwing stuff into the skip and packing away things like towels and the last of my clothes or the rest of my hifi stuff. Instead I will be up in the dirty loft with loads of glass fibre insulation crap getting all itchy.

Meh.

Don’t wanna.

We have all done it.

Sent a text to someone and hit the wrong button. Sometimes it is just funny, sometimes very embarrassing (said the man who managed to send a PM of smut meant for someone else to someone he had only just invited onto his friends list…ahem.)

There was a blogger who’s name began with A who complained once that we should all move her name down our phone contacts list because she was fed up of us telling her by mistake how drunk we were, how little clothing we had on or what our physical intentions were.

But have you ever thought of deliberately sending a message to someone and making it look like it was not meant for them?

I did once ponder sending “God you were fantastic last night, we should have done that sooner xx” to someone by mistake, but then thought better of it.

Now I should say right at the start here that I really enjoyed me visit and Stockholm was lovely. The people were very nice as well, but you can’t help noticing a few things.

Swedes do not queue. Never have done and never will, so you get used to it.

If a Swede wants to get past you in a shop, they will walk up to you and stare at you till you get the point. Even if it means staring at the back of your head till you telepathically pick up the message. Which is odd.

Swedes are helpful and nice and will answer any question. But they always seem to sound surprised that you have to ask. For example – “Do you have a bar upstairs” may be answered with “Yes, it is on the top deck” but it said as if they are saying, “Of course, is it not obvious? No one has ever asked me that before and why would they? You are a odd person not to know something so obvious”

Still, loved it there.

So I am all set to do the web based training thing here at Weird Inc. – a ciggie has been freshly smoked, another cup of strong black coffee has been made and I open the internal web site I need.

I do clickings on headers and find the course I want to run.

I hit “Launch now” and a white box comes up with the legend “Do not close this box until the course is completed – click here to start”

So I do, and another white box comes up and stays blank for a long time.

Hmmm. So I call the support desk and it turns out that rather than just have a bunch of training programmes that will happily run when asked to, Weird Inc. has decided that you have to actually go into the web browser settings and change things from what they are normally set at so you can see the content. And not tell anyone.

Wankers. So I get a three-page guide sent to me by the bloke on the helpdesk, change the settings to what they require and start again.

I am taken through the steps in the introduction by someone who sounds spookily like Stephen Hawking when it all freezes up.

I wait patiently.

I wait patiently some more.

I go out, have a ciggie, change the PIN number on my debit card, come back and find my computer still thinking about possibly taking the day off.

I swear.

I close down the training programme and try to restart it.

It does not want to play.

So I decide “Well I tried.”

I am having no more to do with it today.

Nothing is ever easy at Weird Inc.

Ah, the first day back at work after a weekend break is just so................rubbish.

Meh.

Anyway, I have had my breakfast and must now do something productive. I hope there is some paper in there....

After that, I will have to show willing and do some on line training course work related thing so I can actually have something to report.

Must show that I am being active.

In fact I am doing the introductory course for a programme that I already use "to enhance and re-inforce my skills set regarding the programme and its possible uses"

God! I am starting to speak like them now!

Anyway.

That is my exciting morning sorted.

For gods sake someone blog something to distract me....

I need saving from myself.

Yes! Babba Raindeeeeerrrss!

Oh OK, just one more..(I can actually hear some of you girlies squealing from here you know)

And now a hut that appears to be growing out of the ground.

and some other stuff.

Next up, a small girl with a cloud on a stick grows a moustache and later falls asleep on a dangerously white sofa....

We didn't tell Sarah where we were staying in Stockholm. So when we walked round the corner and said to Sarah "We are staying here!" her mouth dropped open.

"That is SO COOL!" said the little blond one. And it was.

Some sights and streets and stuff.

Stay tuned for more stuff....or not. I sort of run out of enthusiasm after awhile, I mean - I saw it all in the first place.

lots of early starts due to Ryan air being bastards and changing our flights about, Long fun days seeing the sites, catching up with blog friends and eating and talking in the evening (when not falling asleep or watching the young woman over the road try on bras in her room with the light on and the curtains not drawn)

Mira has a lovely flat by the way.

Sarah was gobsmacked and really pleased when she saw where we were staying.

I will put some pictures up later.

Must restart my lappy now as some update or another wants to start.

In other news, I have two rules about accepting friends invites. The first one is "no message, no acceptance" but I have on occasion let this one slide. The other one, one which has only come into place in the past year or so is "no under Twenties" - just so ya know.

and shut it lexi, you got in under the radar and if you say anything your out on your ear!

There are six skulls of John the Baptist knocking around the world,

Six bodies of Mary Magdalene,

29 Holy Nails,

Four Holy Lances,

69 bottles of milk from the Virgin Mary,

Eight holy foreskins….

But only one Boris Johnson.

What the fuck is going on there people?

Mind you, how many do you need?

Yep.

I am in a funny mood.

Well my spot of hungover teaching went OK.

Basically said to R "Here are the instructions, do what it says - I'm off for a ciggie"

And about an hour later it had all been done.

Result.

Don't think my teaching style will catch on though.

Mind you I am sure a lot of my teachers at school were hungover half of the time....

I have to teach someone to do something today. It is work related so will be dull.

I has an hangover. Which may make all this passing on of knowledge a leeeeetle bit foggy.

Bugger.

My stars say I will meet a special someone, a special someones stars say we will have a mahoosive fight. You can't believe everything you read now can you.

Todays special colours are red and black - and I will not say why.

Mind you, the girl with dark hair sitting oposite me on the train and being lovely was dressed in red and black....

OK I have an idea - lets just skip straight to the end of the day and all go out and get drunk!

In other news -

I have just remembered that I have to do a bit of packing for my trip to Stockholm this weekend.

I have had enough packing to last me a lunchtime, and there is no end in sight. Yet.