Area 136

You know that feeling when you have everything exactly sorted?

When you are totally on top of all the aspects of your life?

When you have financial, domestic, emotional, spiritual, career and health aspects of said existence all really humming along like a well drilled squadron of high tech fighter planes in tight formation?

Nah.

Me neither......

meh.

I wonder - as I sit here in this stuffy dull office, fully aware that some of the best weather we are likely to see all year is happening right outside – how many managers and Directors all over the country are “working from home” today.

And yet the only option open to us poor wage slave minions is to endure hellish journeys on boiling smelly tube trains, sit being slowly roasted in offices with laughable air conditioning or go sick.

Bollocks.

Click to see the full joke.

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Throwing stuff into cardboard boxes and much more stuff into black plastic bin bags to be dumped, as the low sun streams in through the curtain less window and illuminates the dust motes, is a fine way to work up a sweat.

What a great day to get hot and dusty.

I may need a shower later.

Oh I just remembered!

I must go claim some cookery books!

A divorced mans work is never done.

“Christ her arse looks great in that clowns outfit!”

I suppose I should explain.

The pub I was just in has a theatre above it and a group of young actors and actresses were in the downstairs bar running through a new scene.

I sat on the big leather sofa in the corner, popped my I-pod in and ignored them because they were rehearsing a rather un-funny comedy.

One of the girls not involved in the scene picked up a clowns outfit from a pile of stage clothes on a seat and went off behind the bar.

She came back wearing said red with yellow spots one piece thing, which was a little see through.

Due to the hot weather she was only wearing her underwear beneath it, and it was a little bit tight on her.

The first and hopefully only time I have found a clown sexually attractive….

I am going to the pub because I am very very bored.

But as I am attempting to loose a touch of "chub" from about my body (due to realising that I am going on holiday in about three weeks time) I will be drinking mineral water.

Yes I know.

Not having a alcomaholical drink at all.

Who would have thought it.

Just back in the office after a little stroll around the sun baked streets of Islington.

Chirst it is hot out there.

And now the Government have advised that the elderly and the young stay indoors and out of the sun between 11.00am and 03.00pm.

What about us poor sods who will have to be using the tube to get home? That is no help.

And on the news a few days ago there was a report on the testing of air conditioned tube trains which will be coming into service over the next couple of years.

But not on any of the lines that I use, because they are too deep. The thing is it is those lines that are the worst.

Bugger.

I am going to find a lake to go and live in for the rest of the day.

Meh.

Lets get more adult. Well all the children are in bed now right..

Spot the lie.

1 - I once gave myself a blow job.

2 - I was once invited into store room at work by a very lovely buxom temp and discovered how heavy her breasts were..because for some reason she needed my help to estimate their weight. I think it was for tax reasons or something.

3 - While fitting a lazer site into my mates totally illegal Magnum (at his insistence, like "ere, have a muck about with this - its so cool) I blew a hole through his kitchen window and shot the front headlite off a Hells Angels Harley that was parked in the garden. It took a leeetle bit of explaining by my friend to prevent my receiving a bit of a friendly kicking.

I am, basically - a rock animal.

Love the loud guitars, the smell of hot valves, rock clubs, temporary hearing loss, leather and noise.

But I am sitting here looking at Fergie from the "Black Eyed Peas" at Glastonbury and thinking....

Damn she is hot.

But the music sucks more than a £200 pound an hour prostitute.

I cut my hair off over a year ago, and thought I was finally free of the Francis Rossi comparisons.

Imagine how pleased I was when I heard that he had recently cut off his hair as well!

Dammit!

But looking at him just now at Glastonbury, the wimp has only cut his hair short - not had it cropped.

so we don't look similar at all.

No WE DON'T!

Just leave it right!

Number 3

1 - I can sing "How much is that doggie in the window" in reverse.

2 - I once got caught receiving a BJ from another girl by my girlfriend and got away with it.

3 - I once got so drunk at a gig that I fell off the stage and landed with my face in a very buxom young girls cleavage.

It is not something any man should be made to do.

Why me?

WHY!

I am being dragged out shoe shopping by Queene Mab and Sarah!

DON WANNA GO!

Shoe shopping with one woman is bad enough, but TWO!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

As soon as I am sober - which obviously means not very soon, I am going to do a wunnerful post about the flying bunnies (because frankly things over at the air base have been a bit quiet recently) and also I may have a prune of people on my friends list.

But DO NOT comment and say "dont cull me" because unless you have not used you blog for about a year you are safe.

I have no idea why I am telling you this....

Possibly I may be an little drunked.

That is all.

Bugger off.

I bet even the master of disaster, the God of Fuck up, Mr journo boy himself (yes I mean Juz) never expected that!

Well, he didn't actually do all the hard work.

But his blog will get all the credits.

I don't know what the world is coming to....

I come back from a nice walk round the forest edge pubs with Ships and QM, and as they say on Armstrong and Miller

"Pru! it's all kicking off!"

Sea Gulls.

Those big white, noisy flying poo factories and general chip stealing seaside bastards.

They have an evil look about them don’t you think?

Those cold eyes, that sharp beak.

Some of them are pretty big as well.

Next time you see one eyeing you up from the top of the seaside pub as you sit outside, it may not be just thinking about coming down and making off with your crisps and dumping in your lager. It might be thinking of having a bite out of you.

Well why not? You are not as big as a whale are you.

And whales off the coast of Argentina are being attacked by….yep..SEA GULLS!

This is no new trend, these Gulls around the Peninsula Valdes have been nomming on whales for about 35 years according to the BBC news website.

The Gulls wait for the whales to surface, land on them and peck away like mad, going as deep as a centimetre into the blubber and flesh.

And the bastards are picking on an endangered species of whale – the Southern right whale. So they are not exactly being “green” or “sustainable” are they.

How soon before the evil dead eyed Gulls in our coastal towns get news of this (because we all know that animals talk about us and plot against us behind our backs right?) and decide to stop nicking our chips and try a bit of chip reared human instead!

Keep watching the Skies!

Last time we were in Edinburgh I tried to explain this sketch to Moff, so thought I would show it too her.

(the reason the man made Cheesoid is because he was a top chef who lost his ability to smell after being hit in the nose during a mugging. The robot is supposed to smell his ingredients for him....)

Altogether now, Awwwwwww.

Walking to the station tonight on my way home from the house, I was watching the sunset develop more and more deep reds as I walked, when I saw her.

The thinnest of silver crescents up to the right of the setting sun, just visible but there again - looking down at me.

I took it as a good sign.

Sitting in a stuffy office in Victoria with no air con, trying to stay awake listening to a consultant drone on.

And no Internet.

Well I suppose we could all do with a break.

Just for a laugh I thought I would have a look on the old internet to see what the going rate is for a flat in this new area.

I typed in the postcode but not the number of rooms I was looking for in the property, so the first thing that came up was a twelve bedroom Georgian town house…..

When I climbed back onto my chair and checked the price again, I narrowed it down to three or less bedrooms and hit search again.

A nice three bedroom flat for £1,195,000……why am I on the carpet again?

Two beds must be cheaper….£2,400,000……FUCK…..nice furniture though…bit modern looking….Oh here is a much more affordable two bed flat, a mere £1,795,000.

Who said it never hurts to look.

I feel so poor!

Well sort of.

I am sitting reading the metro and out of the corner of my eye I notice the girl two seats down is looking in my direction and has been for a while.

I glance over and see that she is not looking at me, but past me along the carriage with a worried look on her face – her eyes wide and her hand up to her open mouth.

Thinking that my I-pod was drowning out a possible entertaining commuter argument or rant from a Londoner of “no fixed mental agenda” I turned the pod off and looked in the direction of her shocked gaze.

I could hear nothing or see any argument kicking off, just some bored commuters strap hanging like bored sides of beef.

I look back at the girl and see she is still staring so I follow the direction of her gaze and spot what is worrying her so.

Up near the central light fitting is a big, fat, hairy BEE!

I look back at her and smile thinking “silly thing”

But then it hits me. I know why she is scared! It is because she doesn’t know what sort of Bee it is!

After all it could be the worst kind of Bee, the deadly killer Bee…it could be a

Hepatitis Bee!

But on the other hand, looking on the bright side – it could have easily been that most friendly and benevolent of Bees, the one know well by pagans everywhere –

The Blessed Bee!

But the young lady was not taking any chances – she got up and moved down to the doors and stood looking nervously at the un-classified flying Bee object until she could make her escape at her stop.

What a coward.

I would have protected her.

Ahem.

So much bright shiny stuff in fact, that I may well have to select one of the pubs in the area with an outside seating area to have a lunchtime drink in.

There are lots of pubs around here but there are a number of problems with some of them.

Most are just too far away for a quick lunchtime drink.

Some do that annoying thing of looking like a normal Pub but not opening until two or three. Sorry, if you don’t open your Pub at 11.00 then it is a “bar” or at worst “a venue” so stop calling it a pub.

Some of the ones that do open at 11.00 have little buckets of condiments and menus on the tables – this is not a good sign. It means you will be eventually be sitting happily reading your magazine and drinking in a space some office worker in a rush wants to eat in. Bugger off and use the canteen.

Not that eating in pubs is a bad thing, but the main point of a Pub for me is that it serves beer first, food second. I have found a nice place that does very nice looking sausage and onion sammich (and will be nomming one at some point this week) but it is a pub first, a place to eat second. Which is as it should be.

I also discounted one pub because unless there is a rock band about to play, I don’t like drinking in a place where the clients and bar staff use the “C Word” as a term of affection for each other.

I must be getting old(er)

As I returned to this office from lunch I had to pass a theatre, obviously there must have been some sort of audition thing going on, as the streets were dotted with groups of young thespians getting ready to go in.

There is a “theatre school” in the area apparently and these youngsters where from it.

So there they are in little groups in the street, doing their little scenes on the pavement.

Which looked quite odd. It gave the impression of an entire bus load of “care in the community” patients having an impromptu freak out in the same road.

Much acting was being done towards doorways by groups of earnest faced youngsters.

Some vocal exercises could be heard being done in a little too “lookatmelookatme!” way.

And I had the pleasure of stomping through some of these bright young things scenes, blowing cigarette smoke out of my nose like an irritable dragon and giving them a look that I hope conveyed

“Get a fucking job because your talent couldn’t even be detected by a scanning electron microscope set on full, you deluded twats!”

I love the arts me…………….

One of the many advantages to living with Shipscook and QueeneMab at Rancho Collapso is the food.

The vast majority is freshly prepared each evening by Ships (but QM is a fine cook too) as he loves cooking.

Ships will get some fresh veg, herbs and spices and some meat and create something with a Mediterranean, Middle Eastern or Oriental style and we happily nom away.

Which I think is probably healthier than eating ready made meals and takeaways…..well we do have takeaways sometimes, just to spoil ourselves.

Ships and QM also make great homemade soups, lentils and split peas are much in favour with QM, but last night it was a Squash soup from Ships. Rich tasting and thick, served up with big thick slices of tiger bread – it was heaven. Its home made goodness made up for my totally lazy slobbing around on the sofa eating my way through the box of Heros chocolates Sarah got me for Fathers day…well in my mind at least.

The only problem with this sort of thing is how healthy it is. Very high in fibre….very good for the old “digestive transit”

Which could explain why I have made three very productive trips to the little boys room this morning and unpacked so much fudge today.

Well an active colon is a healthy colon, as my old proctologist Gran used to say…..

The one word meme thing, as the one word most often used by me during the day is BORED!

Where is your mobile phone?
There.

Your significant other?
Working.

Your hair?
Shorn.

Your Mother?
Gone.

Your Father?
Ditto.

Your favourite thing?
Guitar.

Your dream last night?
Forgotten.

Your favourite drink?
Free.

Your dream/goal?
Happiness.

What room are you in?
Office.

Your hobby?
Guitar.

Your fear?
Constant.

Where do you want to be in 6 years.
Happy.

Where were you last night.
Home.

Muffins?
No.

TV?
Straight.

Your pets?
Past.

Friends?
Great.

Your life?
Complicated.

Your mood?
Meh.

Missing someone?
Still.

Drinking?
Expert.

Smoking?
Cheaply.

Your car?
Miura.

Something you are not wearing?
Armour.

Your favourite store?
Maccaris.

Your favourite colour?
Black.

When is the last time you cried?
08.

Where do you go over and over?
Mad.

Five people who email me regularly?
Five?

My favourite place to eat?
Navarros.

Favourite place I’d like to be right now.
Thames.

(see Happy Bloody Friday for details of where I have been all day - it's friends only by the way)

Course lecturer to female called P

"you are quite a stickler for everything being just right in your work place aren't you"

female P

"Yes, I have CDO's"

"Oh are they like OCD's?"

"Yes, but in ALPHABETICAL ORDER!"

I am unbelievably tired today.

I could lay down under my desk and sleep the rest of the day away. I was not up super late last night either. I may have a bug, but my only symptom is extreme tiredness.

This morning I heard someone downstairs ask the woman on reception "Oh what are those nuts you have there, Patashios?"

Patashios?????

Idiot.

This post was brought to you by the power of habit, and was passed as substandard by the British Board of anything Interesting.

Arrived back at Rancho Collapso yesterday and as I was walking up the hill, some big, fat, round summer rain drops started to fall. As I came round the corner, there was Tolley sitting on one of his favourite man-hole covers with a look on his little kitty face that said “Yuk! Cold wet stuff is hitting my head!” but when he saw me coming up the hill it changed to “Oh look, shaved monkey is here to let me in and feed me! I won’t have to go hide in the neighbours house!” As I let him in the rain stopped, so I went about the business of having a relaxing Martini and plugging in my guitar, ready to have a relax. Then the sky opened. Now I know you lot think all I do is empty Ships’s drinks cabinet and push his and QueeneMabs electricity and water bills up, but I am grateful that they to me in and I like to contribute when I can – so what did I do? Yes, I bravely leapt to action and rushed out to get the washing in! regardless of my own soggyness I whizzed around and before any of the clean clothes were seriously wet they were back inside, where I hung them up safely. Yep, I know its not much of a heroic adventure, but I am a bloke after all – these things don’t come naturally to me. After that it rained very very heavily for over an hour – thunder, hailstones, all manner of deluge like wetness. Thinking back, it would have also made me more of a hero if I had gone out to get the kebabs later, as Shipscook was soaked to the skin when he came back. But mindful of his sacrifice, I heroically ate my kebab then collapsed in a stuffed heap on the sofa, heroically. Maybe we should have got a takeaway delivered…

Ugg boots.

Vile, vile things.

But I read in the metro this morning that a man had an obsession with girls wearing these boots! Yes, those awful things that appear to make any female wearing them shuffle along without picking their feet up like they are 80 years old and just off to get their pension!

OK the bloke was actually a very sick individual because he was preying on schoolgirls on line…but UGG BOOTS!

Jesus.

Not sexy.

Sexy appeared on the front cover of the metro – a very hot picture of Megan Fox (whoever she is) looking rather nice in a black dress.

Mind you, the Ugg boots may be just out of shot……

A good thing about working in a new area is that there are no “Ghosts” here.

I have not worked here before so none of the buildings or Bars have any “history” for me.

I worked at the old office for about four years so during a cigarette break I could see at least two pubs where I had spent pleasant evenings drinking with someone. When I went past them or even sat in them with other people I would be reminded of other times.

Here there are none of those reminders.

It is all blank.

I like that.

The longest day.

Falling asleep in the sun.

Watching the bubbles in the Cava make the big fat strawberry floating in the glass turn over every thirty seconds or so.

warm sun easing away the aches in my back.

The smell of far off barbecues.

Being warm and happy.

Friends snoozing on the grass next to me.

A good day.

I get to work this morning and kick start my ageing PC, wander off and have a coffee and come back to check my work emails.

Now I knew I had four one day courses coming up soon spread over four weeks. Last week the thing most on my mind was sorting out what I was going to do during the tube strike and even though I got the details of the course dates on Monday, I put them to the back of my mind and didn't write them down.

Also the fact that a huge wad of legal stuff regarding my flat turned up on Tuesday that needed to be read and looked at and the signed had also rather filled up all the attention spaces in my brain.

So imagine my joy to discover (when my pc finally chugged into life) that the first course was at 09.30 this morning in Mayfair and there I was sat at my desk in Islington at 08.30.

Oh fuckity.

It took me fifteen minutes of swearing and banging my fist on my pc top to get it to show me where I had to go (via Street map) and then rush out to the tube. I had to go one stop to change onto the Picadilly line. It took me 10 minutes. TEN FUCKING MINUTES! standing on the platform! What definition of "Rush hour" are TFL working under!

So after that I got to Kings Cross, changed lines and got to Hyde Park Corner.

And got a bit lost in the little rabbit warren of subway tunnels. Just a bit. I came out on the wrong side of Hyde Park Corner...Hey..I was stressed and in a hurry.

I then found that the course was in one of those wonderful streets where the numbers go up on one side and down on the other!

AND it was hidden behind the Christian Science Church reading rooms, the courtyard of which you have to walk through to discover the office. Why hide the bloody place behind a fucking church you gits!

So,

Anyway.

I got there only twenty minutes late.

And I was one of only three of the six who were supposed to attend that actually turned up.

And one of the other people was a woman who had so many freckles she looked like she had been riding a BMX bike naked through a muddy forest before putting her clothes on and coming to the meeting.

And she and the other bloke spent most of the meeting swapping work based anecdotes with the tutor, which was just so amusing.

And we got no lunch.

But we did knock off at two....

Meh.

And this will help me find a new job in Weird Inc. how exactermally?

Hope your day was less wossname.

Not content with ensuring my early eviction from bed by the cunning ruse of bedclothes laundry, QM has charged me with another task to ensure my day is not empty.

Yes, I know - my life is such a trial.

I have to phone up the wondrous Tapas bar in London that we enjoy and book a table for us all for Saturday evening.

Meh. All that great food AND a wander round the pubs of Soho before and after....is there no end to this slavery?

Another day of "Working from Home" but you will be pleased to hear that I am not actually in bed.

Oh no, a thief came in and stole all the bedclothes while I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water.

Actually it was Shipscook, operating under the instructions of Queene Mab. She told him to wash the bedclothes today. Hmmmm, I suspect it was a ruse to make sure I didn't lay in bed all morning blogging or looking at "artistic" web sites.

So I am actually out of bed. So there.

Yesterday I had to get over to the house to pick Sarah up from the child minders and discovered that the Central Line was in fact running. So that made things a little easier, I hope it is doing the running thing today as I have to do the same picking up daughter thing again. Nice of Mr Crow to pick the only two days of the week when moving easily around east London is important to me.

At least the weather looks a bit brighter than it did yesterday and on that VERY dull note the realisation hits me that I am being terminally boring and should go make a cup of coffee.

Hope you are having a good morning and those of you in London are not suffering commuter hell.

Before the bloke turns up to fix the washing machine and only if it is not pissing down with the rains again....I am going to put my dressing gown on and go for a ciggie!

That is all.

You may disperse.

(taking blogging to new depths of dull since about three years ago. Old nick - does what it says on the tin)

Last night I may have had one or two huge Martinis.

Well I knew I was going to be working from home today, so what the hell.

I also did a post while being in that rather refreshed state.

This morning I even had some responses to my rather odd ramblings.

But when I click on the responses and go to blog it says "this blog is empty"

Eh?

I know I write crap, but was it that bad?

I have logged in properly and looked at my blog.

The post from last night does not exist........

How freaky.

So anyway, here I am laying nekkid in bed with the laptop slowly toasting my private parts through the duvet....could be worse I suppose.

I could be sat in that bloody awful office.

Hope all you other London based bloggers managed to not kill anyone in your scramble to board the few working transport links in this great city.

If any of you out there are lucky enough to have Miramazing on your friends list, you should hope to be valued enough by her to be invited to stay in her home.

"Mira" is a fantastic host and her new flat is a warm and welcoming place and I would be happy to be sitting there right now with mara.....and I would feel as relaxed and happy as I did the first time I was there.

Except that the birthday girl will be out and having fun with her friends....so I could sleep on that wonderful sofa in the front room!

Anyway.

Mara.

Look into my eyes.

Lift a glass to your lips...and listen to me say...

"Happy birthday babe"

And drink.

Thank you for letting me into your life, home and city.

xxxx

Forget "Eggs Benedict" - "Eggs Griffin" is the culenary dish due jour!

Take one smug BNP leader, place in press conference outside of houses of parliament - and Pelt with eggs till he runs away to a waiting car!

Nom nom nom!

(Details availbel form the BBC news website)

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Have you ANY idea how depressing it is to sit at your desk for an entire day and not see ONE SINGLE attractive woman walk past!

Meh.

A slight exageration I feel.

Seeing as the "memorial garden" is a small paved area without any greenery at all, surrounded on three sides by high brick walls (one being the back of the office) and the forth a high fence with a fire exit door in it that leads to an narrow allyway at the back of the italian restaurant in the high street.

Trades descriptions act?

Lovin this building so far.................

I find it totally un-surprising the Weird Inc has managed to carry out our little office move so badly.

I arrive in the new area and wander along from the tube station; it is quite groovy with some interesting looking restaurants. After a while I turn off the high road, and wander down a pretty side street lined with Georgian town houses…then there is the gateway to a typical Weird Inc Shite hole.

Oh well.

I approach and notice in reception that there are many notices about security and vigilance. I notice these through the firmly shut glass doors, as I can’t get in due to there being no one on the desk. Also I don’t have the right swipe card to operate the lock. They have said that we will be given those at 11 this morning, I suppose if we have passed the test of being able to get in without the right pass we are worthy of having one.

Eventually I get in by following two people in flashing my ID at them and shrugging “just started here today...” “Ah right”

The room they have put us in is not exactly nice. All the pc have been mixed up with different monitors and there are only four chairs in the room. About 10 people are expected to be here. Planning huh?

There are totally useless items of furniture around like busted roll front cabinets and cupboards with big padlocks on the doors….but no backs in them.

The desks are stained and dusty and have definitely seen better days. Those that have pedestals find them locked and there are no keys.

And not one phone, which is actually a bonus.

So I am going out now to try and find something to eat (yes the canteen does not even do any rolls in the morning so it’s a fry up or crisps for brekkie!) and considering the lack of interest in allowing people in or out of the building…..I may be gone for some time. .

Basically that is how I felt for most of this weekend, as Alton Towers was not kind on the weather front.

Rained until about five on Saturday and just about rained all day to day.

Thankfully we had waterproof jackets and such, but they can only take so much.

It didn't stop Sarah and I going on lots of rides, well a few rides lots of times. My arse was wet for most of the day due to all the seats being wet.

Sarah is still just under the magic 1.4 metre mark that would allow her to drag me onto rides that would actually scare the crap out o me. As it is we can go on rides that worry the crap out of her God parents (Ships and QM) but we enjoy.

like this one..

This is us at the top (about 100 ft up) of the "Spinball Whizzer" ride. It's one of those where two couples sit back to back in the carriage and it rotates freely around its central axis. This means that you quite often hurtle down big drops and spirals facing backwards and are whipped round to face to other way half way down....great fun.

Also popular was "The Blade" - a big swing type thing very like "the black Buccaneer" at Chessington. Also we did "the runaway mine train" as you have to, "Hex" which is bloody weird, a haunted house lazer blasting type ride, and Uncle Shipscook took Sarah through the "Charlie and the Chocolate factory" ride that I deemed a little too tame to warrant my attention.

Although there was a worrying point. Sarah said that when she grows that extra bit she wants to go back and go on "Oblivion" - the one that drops vertically down into a big dark hole after pausing at the top. Oh good.......

Don't know if you have anything planned but I hope you have a good day.

I am at the moment at Alton Towers, probably getting rained on.

Stay dry and happy.

x

Well I don't know about wicked but I always have my suspicions about IT people.

Yes I have just been told that the IT bloke is here ready to disconnect the pc's of all us movers.

So when he has done that, I can't really do anything else here.......

So I will bugger off to get my hair cut then go home.

This weekend sees us taking Sarah to Alton Towers, where we will probably get rained on while spinning around alot.

Like finishing my packing for the move, but all I really have to pack is one mug, a jar of coffee and a spoon.

I should be trying to get a copy of the email that everyone else that is moving got, telling them where to go. Don't know why I didn't get it but oh well. Anyway none of them are in yet.

What I am actually doing is watching the first practice session from Turkey on the BBC F1 website........

and drinking coffee.

Work ethic?

Wassat then?

Yep.

It is my last full day in the West End office of Weird Inc.

On Friday I will be booted off the premises at about 12.30 because that is supposedly when the man from IT comes to disconnect our PC’s and after that…well you can’t really do any surfing the net work can you?

I will miss many things about being here.

Not the inadequate and frequently leaking/filthy toilets that seem to be (from the evidence left behind) used by a colony of Barbary apes.

Not the constantly mental or malfunctioning lifts, given to mood swings and mental breakdowns where they sit for hours on one floor intoning “doors closing, going up…doors opening….doors closing, going up…doors opening”

Only Weird Inc could drive inanimate objects mad.

The things I will miss are out there mainly.

The Spanish Tapas bar down the road,

Denmark Street, full of luverly guitar shops.

Soho and its entire “local colour”

Mollys!

Not to mention the people here. No, not my colleagues – they are coming with me. But the people who brighten my day without ever a word having passed between us.

Like the tall girl with the dark hair and the dark eyes who favours pencil skirts and seemed stockings.

The girl that looks like Devla Kirwan..

The girl that sometimes wore the tartan mini skirt thing and smiled at me on a couple of occasions and made my face feel warm.

The very curvy and sultry Secretary sitting opposite me who is just gorgeous.

The attractive woman from the other end of the office who has short black hair and olive skin and looks magically younger when she smiles, which she does on occasion when we pass each other.

Of course on Monday they will all be thinking, “hey, that lecherous old bald bloke has buggered off! Yay!”

I have been slightly freaked out this morning by reading a fellow bloggers post about a dream she had.

I and a lot of other bloggers featured in it, but the point is that something really nasty happened to me in this dream, which sent a chill down my spine.

I met someone and got married!

The other weird thing is that the person dreaming this dream has never met me in person, or my daughter, or the other two bloggers that featured in the early part of the dream (Shipscook and Queene Mab)

So I thought I would ask:

Have you ever had a dream that featured other bloggers? And did any of it come true if you did?

For my entry let me give you this one.

I was being driven in a car that was full of boxes. Boxes of my personal belongings and I was being taken to my new flat (this dream happened a couple of years ago, before the house sale and divorce stuff by the way) and I am not happy.

Why? Because I don’t want to go. The other three people in the car are bloggers, and the atmosphere in the car is sad and rather down.

We get to the flat and we take the boxes inside. I turn to my companions and am told that I am to stay living here forever and that I am not to contact anyone on blog ever again. This is a final goodbye and once these people walk out I am never seeing them again.

They all walk out and I am left alone with the boxes.

The funny thing is, I live in the same house now as two of the bloggers (yep, ships and QM) the third blogger has disappeared off blog ages ago and I have not heard from them for almost a year.

Odd eh?

Your go.

Hope you have a great day today, and remember - you have not been in that flat long so don't go wrecking it with a massive party.

Happy Birthday.

I have been here in Weird Inc for what feels like two hours, but has in reality only been one.

I am reading “Tau Zero” by Poul Anderson at the moment, which features a similar (but reversed) problem for a group of travellers on a ship at near light speeds. They pass through a nebula and their deceleration systems are damaged so they just go on accelerating with no way to stop and their speed increasing closer to that of light. Which means that by the time they can sort themselves out, thousands of years will have passed back on Earth.

Sat here it feels like time is flying by outside and I am stuck in the amber of office boredom, where the clocks tick very very slowly…..

Meh.

I may have to think about throwing away the pile of Guitar mags on my desk and maybe filling one of the moving crates just to occupy myself.

Since cutting off all my hair just over a year ago, I have occasionally thought of going "all the way" and shaving my head.

But today I saw a reason not to pick this time of year to try it.

No, summer is not the time to shave your hair off, especially if the crop that you had was thick enough to block the sun and you catch a touch of red about the head skin parts.

Because obviously the shave will show all that pale white skin that was covered in stubble and you will look like someone has painted the top and back of your head with white emulsion.

Snrk!

If one more group of knobbers from procurment come over and stand around staring at these desks and scratching their chins and trying to decide who is going to sit where I am going to loose my temper.

Or stand up and very vigorously scratch my bollocks.

It is like being in a fucking zoo.

Piss off chaps, I don't move till Friday!

Today I decided that as there was nothing even remotely wanting doing at work, I would take advantage of the sun and go have a coffee in Soho.

I got to work and had breakfast, then grabbed the latest copy of “Classic Rock” from my desk and headed out into the sun.

Soho is rather peaceful between 08.00 and 09.00 in the morning. Not much in the way of through traffic, people strolling to work or doing like me – sitting with a coffee watching the world go by.

As this is going to be my last week working in the area I thought I would make the most of it. I don’t know what “delights” await me in Islington (I believe that is where my new office is….London geography is not my strong point)

So anyway, I sat and drank and read. I was hoping that some local character would appear or something blog worthy would happen but obviously nothing did. I just sat and relaxed.

And now I am back here.

A porter type bod has just turned up and given me two moving crates, so I assume that this move thing is definitely on this time. This is actually the third attempt as it where after earlier postponements.

In other news,

New bloggers – if you are going to send me an invite, at least have something written in your blog so I can see what you are like. A blank blog is not that inspiring to look at and even though you put a message in the invite, until you write something I won’t accept. I mean, you could write mindless smutty rubbish and who really wants to read that?

Ahem.

God it is hot tonight.

Stuffy, hot and airless.

I am wearing very little as I type this and it is still too much.

It is so hot that the packet of "Pony Poo" (a packet of chocolate covered raisins branded "New Forest Pony Poo" that Sarah brought for me on her holiday) is melting.

I prefer firm poo. I don't like it when the lumps stick together.

Very tasty though.

Could pop the poop in the fridge....

That sounds very "Special interest section of the video shop"

Would have made that scene in "9 and a half weeks" even messier.....

Anyway, I am off to raid Queene Mabs freezer to see if I can find a packet of frozen peas to either sit on or wear like a hat.

I am the perfect house guest.....

A warm wind is blowing along Oxford street right now, worrying at the hems of the light summer dresses of the office girls and reminding them that today is not a good day to “go commando”.

Humidity stunned office workers lay around on the grass in Soho Square trying to look comfortable.

I can’t wait for the hot stuffy ride back out to the suburbs on the tube this evening.

It is amazing how many people seem to forget to wash in the summer.

Clouds are piling up in the sky and it feels like a thunderstorm may be lurking around up there as well. At least it would break this sticky oppressive coating that has settled on the day.

I had a dose of the lazies this morning and didn’t come in to work till just before 10.00. Just as well really as the power to my desk didn’t come on till just after..timing – I has it! The weekend was very enjoyable. On Saturday we took a Boat from Tower Pier up to Kew gardens and spent the day wandering around looking at the plants and trees in fantastic summer weather. The big pond is worth a visit as all the ducks and Geese are so tame, their little fluffy chicks wander right up to you or can be seen sleeping right next to the paths. Major cuteness. Sunday was spent laying in the garden of Rancho Collapso getting slowly pickled on booze, and slowly roasted in the sun. Lovely – the best way to spend a Sunday. But this morning I have received some rather crap news. This is my last week here in the west end office of Weird Inc! They are finally going to move me and some other unwanted bods to another office that is nowhere near all the guitar shops and Soho delights! And nowhere near Mollys! I am sure I will be able to find another lunchtime venue at the new place, but I will really miss being here in the throbbing wossname of this here fancy “the London” Meh. In further celebrity height news – Tom Baker (the BEST Dr Who ever – no contest) is about a foot taller than me and got a little too much sun yesterday apparently.