What a quiet night. Shame that. Could use some noise.

A not unreasonable day. Kicked off the day by taking the new toy down to Donna Nook bombing range, and rattled off a considerable number of shots watching practise bombs drop on the North Sea targets. Also, the beginnings of the seal invasion, where lady seals turn up on the sandbanks to drop their babes, and boy seals turn up to fart and snarl at anything that moves.



Scooted up the road to the fun factory after that, to what was - suprisingly - a half decent day. Nothing really to grumble about. Put with an old mate from a previous office for a change, and for once everything went more or less acceptably, with the exception that there's more shift changes due by the look of it later this week, and next, and I've got to come in early tomorrow for the debrief for that boat job that went so horribly pear shaped. Hey ho. Right now I aught to be cleaning the kitchen up after dinner. Right now, I frankly can't be arsed. There's not any fun to be had anywhere, so an early night is the order of the day.

Well, think the black dog got hold of me pretty much by the throat last night; fired off a mail to my tailweight last night, probably not the sanest of prose I've ever created but when you're on your tod here, and fido makes an appearance you have to do something or go up the wall, or worse. Suppose that's what mates are for? Putting up with my crap when I can't.

Not much impressed to see that Saw III's made top of the American box office this weekend. Is it just me or are films like this an initement of the state of society at the moment? Nasty, sadistic, voyeristic, nothing positive or uplifting to be found. And that's just the state of society, don't get me started on the films! I'm off to watch Bambi.

Saints preserve us from drunken fat birds who know you can do photography, and think they can be models. I just can't be arsed to humour them anymore. It's crap, they're crap and what's more they don't even take a decent picture, 'coz they sweat and their makeup's all over the place. Also, saints preserve us from 150 mile drives back to the northern home, when you KNOW you've only got an empty house to come back to and no messages on the answerphone, that's like walking right up to the black dog, covered in premium hound food and a sign saying "come and get it". So not the best of journey's home. A bit rough in fact. Indeed, no messages, net's quiet, no real people are coming out to play.

So, frankly people, this moment in time, I can't see the point.

Book purchase splurge... The Abortionist's Daugter by Elizabeth Hyde... meant to borrow this one, but that source of reading material isn't so available these days; The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John Le Carre; A couple of Ian Rankin's, Resurrection Men and A Question of Blood - heard good things about this chap, I'll give him a go; and Why don't penquins feet Freeze, a compilation of stuff from New Scientist. On the reading front, coming to the end of Trainspotting. Come to the conclusion that it's a fine film adaptation and I don't object to the merging of several characters into one as much as I usually do; Welch made the film makers job easy by giving all the characters chapters and their own style of dialogue, even pyscho Begbie; I suppose especially in his case, shows up how true Robert Carlisle stayed to the character. Rather glad they left the scene out where Renton shags his brother's pregnant widow at his bro's funeral though, ahem!

Coming to the end of a week of forced alcoholic abstinence. Antibiotics. This chest business has still not cleared; the doc's got me on a course of big green horse pills in case it's infection and asperin in case it's heart while we're waiting for the test results to come back. Tonight it's no more, as first things first, I've got a party to go to with ale, and bent I must get. It's compulsory. It's Tracy's 40th down in Ippo, although I'm convinced it was all a ruse for her to get her bus pass early, no friend of mine is old enough for their 40th. Well, except Mr H ;o)

Had enough of the week, and my plan for "me" space unravels further. What should have been three days off turns into one. Short notice leave is a pain in the arse in my place, the teams are so small and it knocks them about to lose more than one guy at a time. It's been a daft week though, and I'm ready to fly! All that waiting and watching we did... well, let's just say it was for nothing. Nobbled the aforementioned noddies at the airport, wasting lots of efford in the process. Contacted at home again - I'm starting to dread the landline, it's always something bad, nobody that I actually want to talk to calls me on it any more. Might as well get the bastard taken out. Deployed in support of someone else's scheme. Proper crime, proper crims, a potential good day out to turn into a war story for years to come. Got the go bag together. Found some armour that fits. Jumped in the works go buggy and scooted out to an office in a certain northern town to await the call to battle.

And waited. And waited. And had a cup of tea. And waited. And went for a bacon sandwich. And waited. And got a terminal working and did my email. And waited. Waited some more. Did some computer based training I need to get out of the way before next Wednesday. Waited. Regretted that I'd left the go bag with book and Ipod in the car. Waited Regretted that I'd assumed it'd be briefing then right out of the door, and thus I'd left all my backlogged paperwork back at my own office. And waited. Had more tea. Waited. Had a few chocolate fingers, you know it's boring if I'm eating chocolate. Had more tea. Waited. Shift ended, got stood down, reinforcements dispatched from home plate, went back. The bad guys hadn't moved. Sometimes this job is so daft as to be surreal.

Anyway, got a new toy to play with. Canon EOS big one. I like me piccies, and my EOS300 is getting a bit long in the tooth, and has troubles with certain things I do, like the flying stuff. EOS newboy's got similar software, but is a quantum leap ahead in capability. Looking forward to seeing what it can do.

The weathermen tell bloody lies.

That night watch went on for another evening without any result whatsoever. Soon after I got back, got called at home on Sunday by the uberboss to deal with some blokes coming through somebody else's airport first thing Monday, whom were duly met, greeted, nicked and processed for an amount of illicit material that was so small it was embarrassing; takes a whole team plus reinforcements to deal with four petty nickings that we really aught to just fine on the spot and kick out. Dreadful really, London policy makers five years behind the rest of the country as usual, advancement seeking local middle managers sticking to their every word like glue. After all this, I was a little cranky, so decided to take short notice leave as "me time". Well, that went to pot. Wanted straight through Wednesday to Wednesday, but there's meetings tomorrow and a course that nobody told me I was on, on Tuesday. My works really do suck dead donkey's cock when it comes to basic courtesy.

Anyways, "me time"... a nice lie in, then loaded the mirthmobile full of freshly charged camera batteries and headed north. My old stomping ground, Hambleton district of North Yorkshire where there's a certain bird of prey centre to be found. You know what I'm like on the beauty of nature and the ergonomics of the kill, so you'll know why they impress me. Can't remember if it was in this or a previous blog, but I went up there for a handling course paid for by FLoH before she was F, and have frankly rather a taste for the place. The weather forecast said seventeen degrees, high cloud, sunny spells. The reality was freezing winds, and p*ssing it down. Oh well. Made the best of it anyway, shot a bunch of pixels on the flying and had a very nice afternoon, if drenched. The weather kind of put the kybosh on the rest of the afternoon, and I headed south again, but I'm plotting my return visit already, when the centre opens again in March.

Night two: managed some kip and this is my sole attempt at wakeyness today before I have some munchies and return to my pit.

A vicious evening in my humble opinion. Obs duty. Nothing happened. At all. The night before was rife with potential but to use a fishing metaphor, the tiddlers were knocking the bait and float about to hell, but no big bite Last night? Absolutely naff all. Complete waste of time. You'd think it's easy to sit and watch a patch of ground for nine hours, but it's actually draining in a whole different kind of way, and when you're at the wrong end of your bodyclock it's absolutely evil. Can't drink coffee, 'coz then you've got to get rid of the liquid at some point and there's no bog - can't go for a slash in the bushes 'coz obviously you'll show out to the bad guys. It's evil, and it's annoying when the highlight of you kicking the crap out of your system is a cat wandering across your field of view.

Health check. Nope, not been told I've got three seconds to live. Neither have I been told that I'm immortal and can only improve with age (damn!). I have got a pile of antibiotics to take, on the offchance that this is viral in origion, and a "come back next week" when all my results from various proddings and pokings are in. Doc was on this occaision 100 percent more pleasant to deal with than last time, almost affable. Maybe he had a bad day, maybe it was "maybe this fat gimp isn't a total hypercondriac after all and I've got some work to do here". I shall put his "git" status in abayance and see what happens here. The good news is, unlike one suggestion I've had, it's pretty unlikely to be TB, even considering my constant exposure to eastern europeans, as you've got to be pretty much in someones face for a while to catch that shit. And anyway, if I've got my timing right, TB's* currently at the Nottingham beer festival, which is where I should be but there ya go, work gets in your eyes.

*Private joke ;o)

Not sure it's too clever to be up for 28 hours without sleep, folks so this is a quickie. I'm currently waxing my left arm. Actually, this is not quite true. I've got selotape on it, holding cotton wool, which is indicative that I managed my twelve hour starve and had my blood test. That hurt. Quite a lot actually. How junkies can do that to themselves for entertainment, I just cannot fathom. Chewing my way through the indecipherable dialect of Trainspotting at the moment, so you'd think I'd get some in sight. Muchos empathy with those friends of mine, they know who they are, who have to submit to this sort of stuff on a regular basis and for whom it has become routine, especially those who don't like needles, like me. No. Anyway, sure the test didn't hurt as much as getting that tape off my arm is going to. Down to the quacks at teatime to find out just how screwed I actually am. Oh how I am looking forward to this. Not. What I want to hear is "Mr Shadey, we've discovered you're immortal and you're going to get richer, better looking and happier with every year". Somehow I don't think this is going to be what I'm reporting later.

Hmmmmm.

Well, an annoying one last night. I was due in at midnight, 'coz of the course and a desperate attempt to not completely screw me over with work and no rest. Got in early to discover the rest of the team had deployed at nine, and in fact weren't expecting me in at all. That would explain the lack of any attempt to contact me beforehand. Should learn to read the rosters. Made contact through discrete means, established I was in fact in the office, established that they wanted me there, then found out where "there" was, planned a route, got kitted up and took the 4WD beasty out, as it was the only discrete vehicle left. Ahem. That's my excuse for taking a toy out anyway. Sweating my nadgers off in full night time sneaky type gear isn't my idea of fun, and frankly I'm glad the opposition chose not to come and play last night. I was in no mood or condition to play with local scrote and foreign crims. Unfortunately the evening ended stuck with two juvenile Yorkshiremen who're freshly trained, still think they're the mutts nuts and still think farting at each other in a confined space is funny.

God help us.

Woken as usual by the pocket panther of the house wandering in to my room to say hello; as it happened, today, he was one dripping wet pocket panther as he's obviously been out harassing the local rodent population in the rain overnight. He seemed most dischuffed when I ejected him from the bedroom; but I've got clean sheets on, I know he's going to want to crash out on the bed, soaking it and ditching black hair all over it. For once in my life my bedroom doesn't look like an utter shitepit and just for one day I really wanted to keep it that way.

Brekkie down the neck and into work at gentleman's hours as we call them; that's normal office hours to the rest of you, as I've got a course to go on. It's my official "things wot go bang" course, just a one day basic that all folks wot do my job have to have so that they can indeed identify, erm, things wot go bang. Of course, it's not the department's fault that I've been mucking about with things wot go bang for over sixteen years as a hobbyist; nor indeed that I knew a damned sight more than one of the two trainers (submarine pens at Peenamunde, my arse), and have been used for years as a resource by the full time "bang" officers every time something erm, bangable turns up. Depressing how many times they passed an exhibit around the room and my comment was "used to have one of those, yep used to have one of those too". Of course, it IS the departments fault that I didn't get this course five years ago when I first went onto border work, but hey, they can't be expected to polish their investors in people plaques AND be any bloody good at management, can they. Anyway, a bit of a busman's holiday for me to be honest. Easy enjoyable day. Was due a day like that. I was going to volunteer for the five day course at the army college to be a specialist officer for dealing with things wot go bang, but as it turns out, I've already been volunteered for it at the last team meeting, four months ago that I missed through being in Slovenia. Nice of them to tell me. I refer the jury to my earlier comment about government management styles...

Rest of the day, less successful. Haven't managed to get a damned wink of sleep before night shift kicks off in an hours time, which by the way gives a time between shifts that's extremely not entirely legal, but hey ho, if I can't take a joke, I could always push paper for a living. NOT that I mean to be derogatory to those that do, but I've done it enough for the moment. Anyways up, in a few hours I'm going to be at work and utterly knackered. Quack's tomorrow for the "you've got six months to live" interview; quack wants me to get to the hozzy to get a blood test done, but you've got to starve for twelve hours before hand, I'll give it a go but I don't think it's that smart an idea to be honest. Anyway, he's not going to be impressed with my levels of caffeine that'll be accumulated before tonight's over.

Tells the trained mind a thing or two

What are you doing reading me? Go get a book!!!!!

Hmmmm. Worrying a bit. Been to the quacks today for a nurses healthcheck, in connection with this lung business. Hooked up to an ECG machine (that's heart monitoring for those wot don't know). Doc wants me back on Friday, something's not A1. That's about seventeen different degrees of "I am bloody worried here" for me. Let's hope it's stress, of which there has not been small amounts lately, and nothing more, erm, surgical or last will and testament related. I mean, what would I do with all this crap? Only person I'd trust to know the right thing to do is FLoH and I can hardly ask her.

Gah!

:o/

So, as much as I don't like to take life seriously for more than ten seconds (I don't like to, but these days I guess I don't have much choice in the matter) I found this quote from Saturday's Indie from Richard Dannatt, our Generalissimo who's stuck the boot into B-Liar with such aplomb last week.

"When I see the Islamist threat in this country I hope it doesn't make undue progress because there is a moral and spiritual vacuum in this country at the moment. Our society has always been embedded in Christian values, once you have pulled the anchor up thre is a danger that society moves with the prevailing wind"

Don't especially want to get involved in the relgious dust up that's going on at the moment, partly because I'm an aethiest, but mainly because I don't want either the Thought Police or the local Sunni milita coming around here in the middle with "oooooh you can't say that" or burning torches, sharp knives and video cameras as appropriate. All I'm saying is that I think this bloke knows a thing or two; there's a point there that I've identified with before, and those folks that have been with me in the pub on Ranting day may remember; maybe people should look away from the here and now when deciding how to handle society, and look forward and more importantly, back. Any reason that Shia law CAN'T become a factor in British law if not tomorrow, in 200 years time if we go down the path of trying to keep everyone happy, offend nobody? Bear in mind, these islands used to be pagan, before minority foreign religeous cults started rocking the boat say, 1500 years ago. No reason to say things won't change again, in fact they're bound to. About time we learned from our colonies I think, the Aussie way. Their official policy is "This is Australia, this is how we do things here, if you want it done another way that you're used to, sod off". I think that's straightforward.

Right, that's my IQ pacified for the moment; normal service with beer references, oblique nasty emotional stuff, Grimsby hating and slowly going barmy will be restored shortly. In case you're wondering, I'm off work today through another bout of ill health, hopefully only a day this time; been up all night with what those of us of a elderly films persuasion call "Fu Man Chu's Revenge"; that I'm blaming either on over-ripe fruit or some out of date garlic bread I ate last night. It was either that or go shopping. Not maybe the best decision ever made.

Nobody should have to eat kebabs, they're something that other people should do.

I'd also like to stop eating them myself, it doesn't matter if you do have the healthy option and have a proper chicken Shish kebab, they're still shite. Picked one up as I wobbled past the bus station on the way home; I'd treated myself to a jolly day out in Sheffield, something that's been on the list for a year or so but haven't got it sorted until today.

The Kev was doing his model railway thingy over there, so it seemed only manners to scoot over there and meet up after he'd finished for a bevvy or two. Fourteen quid for a return ticket was unexpectedly reasonable and I duly bought a nice heavy paper for the journey and scuttled off that'wards. Arrived at Sheffield, didn't much fancy the walk to the first pub as my legs were still give muchos pain from my gym indiscretions, on top of the lungs doing their best to make me look like a cripple. Made my way up to the Frog and Parrot which is an ale joint much recommended to me a long while ago by a missed buddy; unfortunately it's been taken over by Greene King, who are the Microsoft of the real ale world, and a concession they've insisted on is that the place stop brewing Roger and Out, their own brew loopy juice for which they'd give you a TShirt if you managed to get three pints down. Damn. Mind you, according to the nice bar bloke, they plan to start it again in the new year, if they can get it past the brewery. I'll pay 'em another visit to see if they've managed it. Had a pint of Abbot, and nostalgically, a black sambucca for the friend that gave me the heads up on that pub in the first place. Made my way on the advice of one of the locals down to the Devonshire Cat, and chugged the Abbeydale "Absolution", the Brewsters "Sirens", the pub's own brand Best Bitter and Spaten "Oktoberfest" - a German special one for the lunancy that goes on in Munich at this time of year. Jolly indeed, this place is a first rate boozer and one that I'd enjoy going back to, superb Norwegian barmaid too. Yay! Then back to the taxi to meet the chaps once they'd finished their train stuff at the Fat Cat; no relation to the ones we know and love down south, a very nice old fashioned corner pub, that I enjoyed very much, but I have to say the Devonshire took the prize for the day. Chugged a pint of The Durham Brewery "Durham Amber", and some ludicrous Belgian barley wine, by this stage my survival skills in avoiding the stupid stuff were well impared.

Sheffield needs to be done again, although in my physical state of being well less that 100 per cent, there was a lot of scarey looking people about. The next trip should start in the Devonshire at lunchtime and finish up at the Frog and Parrot in the evening for a band... Interesting framed posters on the wall; they did a free festival in 1979 involving Cabaret Voltaire, Human League and Def Leppard, and if you don't know who they are, you're way too young to be reading my blog! Had to leave way too early to get the last train back, thus missing the Sheffield curry opportunity, but this of course opened the door to gastronomic abuse when I got back to Grim. You'd think I'd know by now. Maybe I should actually attempt to conquer this terrible affliction, it's just habit, it's not even as if I actually LIKE kebabs. It's like a junkie getting the munchies.

Finished my Dan Brown on the way home, Angels and Demons on the way back. Not a bad book, I'd normally have put my thoughts ont the old Book Club board, but those who know me well know I'll not be seen back in those parts, my pathetic attempt at review will have to go here. I think Brown concentrates on compensating for his weaknesses by extreme subject matter and dilligent research. And he can't write a romance for toffee, something he shares with Tom Clancy. Having said that, it was an enjoyable enough romp and I don't think my time was wasted. Trainspotting next.

Well, time to go do constructive things. At this moment in time, myself and the mog are having a battle for control of the computer chair. He's moved in behind me and won't shift, neither will I. Clash of the titan's it's not, but it's there anyway.

Well, double brutalizing the muscles in the back of my legs may not have been the smartest plan ever. Fun though. Problem was I'm now limping around like I had a dose of cramp in each leg, and that's 24 hours after the foolishness so you can guess what yesterday was like! Wasn't the best of days at the fun factory anyway; general disorganised sack of crap, started at one, by two o clock I was hating it and I had seven hours to go. Dreadful day. Snapped the head of one of the underlings too; he's a character and can be a bit of a sod, but he overstepped the mark and got chewed for it.

Hmmm, I don't normally get like that. I'm drawing conclusions.

Got home at the rush, as 24 hour supermarkets can be arsey about selling beer after eleven, so made it to Tommy Esco's with minutes to spare. Saved 38 pence on my purchase of big Belgian falling down juice, as they'd incorrectly put an offer label on them when it wasn't appropriate. Yay. Small victory against the corporate culture. Every little helps. Interesting side effect of this general not eating, losing weight thing. It turns out I can't wind the enormous amounts of supermarket curry down my neck that I used to. Still got half in the fridge, waiting to be reclassified as dinner. Ah, that healthy bachelor existance! New toy's arrived, a little bit of retail therapy done; I'm going to sit and get it sorted for about half an hour, then take the day!

Home made soup does it again. At least that's what I'm blaming for the night of poor sleep. Gah. Must remember I use gourmet shite chilli powder and not to put so much of it in. Got up eventually to an autumnal Lincolnshire scene. Grey mist everywhere. Yum. That's motivating. I've got to get out of this place if it's the last thing I ever do. Things are quiet. I don't like that. The old emails and texts are barely ticking over. Got no idea where the weekend is going yet, got a couple of choices for things to do. Got a shift of the purgatory of tourist battering stuff at work (that all the happy munchkins are really into, but I see for the shite it is) that's management's current love today; maybe I'd better get that out of the way first before I start worrying about Saturday's drinking plan.

A funny day; my back's a nightmare at the moment... women of Britain, if your bloke waxes his back for you, bloody appreciate him! Mine's at the itchy nightmare stage at the moment and is driving me up the wall and back again. On top of that my legs are pain jelly from the new nasties I learned to do for their benefit at the gym yesterday. Only one thing to do. Go back and do it again.

The net does it again. Emails from an old school mate how her old man's net addiction chatting to some tart abroad is causing massive ructions down south. Any court in the country would call it unreasonable behaviour, but he's screwing up one of the great relationships with one of the few lasses big hearted enough to put up with him in the first place. And before you accuse me of being overly judgemental and biased about this, the muppet's one of my best mates from school himself. Probably a tad hypocrital about this as I'm using a net media to publish my ramblings; lets face it, never going to flog it as a serial novel am I; but one of the things that really pisses me off about the net is it's surefire ability to screw up relationships that don't need screwing up. Seen it about a lot, and the only solution is always "pull the plug" or if you're too much of an addict, admit it. The net can be cancer to real people's real lives, and it continues to p*ss me off.

But hell, I do miss it.

There's still a large hole in my life where I battered away at the F board for years; every now and again when I log onto a PC, my traitor fingers are halfway through typing in the web address (I'm old fashioned, set an icon set up) before my mind says "whoa boy, remember you can't go there". I can find myself staring at the email screen, willing something to happen, or a text to come in; just as I sometimes used to constantly hit refresh on the boards index waiting for something to happen. It's not the same, but it's spoiled for life anyway.

Which is why I sometimes do what I did tonight, made the mistake of going out for a midweek drink. Naughty when you're on call, but I had to get out of the house. Thus I found myself once again sitting in a Cleethorpes pub surrounded by really unevolved people, wishing I hadn't bothered. You'd think I'd know by now. Plus the beer's ghastly; I put up with it in my local because it's cheap, but I've never had a pint of Lincolnshire beer that didn't taste of mud. I've got to get out of this town; I've got to get a moving solution that works... I HAVE an idea but it's clearly insane so I'd better work on a better one.

So, the rest of the day. Into work half an hour early today; a rarity, but none the less it happened. Witty comments from the targeters as I walked past, witty comments from the outgoing team boss at handover, panic from my team as they saw my car and thought they were late.

Ah ha. Aha ha ha. Hah.

Thank the gods I wore my extra strength corset, or else i fear my sides may have split.

That was the highlight of the working day really. Targetters had no work for us; we couldn't go and harass the ship that needed harassing as only two of us have had the health and safety training to go on board and be insured against killing in nasty ways; airport was out of the question as another team had it covered. So a boring day of poncing about, before coming home to see what the slow cooker had made of my dinner, to which the answer is something indescribable. Now, why is it that FLoH can make a soup with all the vegetable contents of her fridge (at the end of their useful lives) and come out with something tasty and nutritious without trying; whereas if I do it, I get something awful that looks like the after effects of a Newcastle Brown binge?

Nothing like Grimsby to turn a reasonable mood into a terrible pit of hell in no time at all. Who said it was one of the quickest urban traffic systems in the UK? Actually I remember perfectly well who said that, and she was a lying bitch about other stuff as well :o). Took me over twenty minutes to get forty yards trying to get into the Fun Factory, through one filter lane and through one traffic light. Started the queue in a reasonable state of mind, left it badly needed a scalp massage from a beautiful woman to nobble the stress headache that was coming on. Unfortunately there isn't anybody to give me scalp massages, so that's that great therapy idea scuppered.

Instead, indulged in a little bit of fast driving on the way into work. It's not the same. Annoyed my old boss as I sped past his beemer at instant ban speeds though, so that was worthy. A tedious shift. Once again, could have used not being there, but the mortgage must be paid. Wasn't in the mood for the team, or the nonsense the bosses throw at us; I'm in the mood for planning trips, taking trips, enlightening myself, buying toys. Need cash for all that though. Bum. Boys and girls; right now I is bored.

Several pieces of ineffective professional muppettry from my honoured colleagues did not help matters; by the end of the shift I was grinding my teeth in the van as the happy little team within a team sang along loudly to the rubbish on the radio. I live for weekends and holidays!

One noteable incident though, wandered into the target room and was accused by two separate people of losing a lot of weight. This makes a nice change, first time in years I've achieved that and this time without really trying. This is an interesting concept, if I actually start TRYING, what happens then? Lead role in The Machinist 2? Not sure I want that. I like being big, could just use being lean and conditioned with it. On a starve at the moment as the quack wants me to have a health check thing at 1130; that's a twelve hour fast beforehand. Oddly enough, I'm not hungry enough to eat the arse out of a dead Rhino at the moment. Oh appetite, where have you gone? Not sure I miss you though.

A small moment of reflection as it p*sses down with rain here and prevents me taking the shears to my front lawn as I've been trying to for a week now.

It struck me yesterday while at the wake just how different I am from the muppet who left Ipswich nearly four years ago now; it's partially the job but mainly I suppose the experience. As much as I love my folks, I'm not altogether sure that I could go back and be the same person I was back then - in fact I know damned well that I couldn't. I'm more ... well, I like things done my way, which involves a lot less farting around; and I'm far happier with the bin liner - haven't got anything like the crap hoarding instincts that my olds have. As much as I've let the Stress Pixies get me and screw me up in the last couple of years, the insecurity, paranoia and trouble that was caused; I've definately become a different and in my humble opinion, better man. I'm seeking my way and my path; can't find it at the moment, but I know I want it and a status quo of moving home and just doing the bimbling things I've always done just won't do. Maybe that means that I'll be unfulfilled in life, suppose that's OK so long as I be unfulfillled honestly and don't compromise myself, take less than I want, be less than I can, just because it's simpler, easier or expected. Suppose my pathways are ones that brighter people take at uni, but I never went... was easier just to rest in the warmth and security of the hometown, regular if undemanding work, regular friends and haunts and just bimble along having a comfortable 40% life. Do not much. Now I know I've moved on from that, if a little late, but there's folks my age who still haven't done it and never will.

I've started the trip, I just don't know where it's coming out.

I do know that I don't see the future in Grimsby; and I'm not altogether sure I want to pick up my retirement present and say to myself "whole career in just one place?". Security is nice and the money's good but apart from the fact that my station is the most disorganised sack of kack it's ever been my displeasure to be associated with, I'm just not sure that it wouldn't be a terrible waste of life, brain and time to spend the whole of the remainder of my working life doing something I don't think works very well and I have moral issues with how we do it. My heart is telling me where to move to; my brain is telling me to stick with the job for the time being and make my moves within a framework that continues to pay money for old rope, and not to jump stupidly. Life's a hell of a lot easier if you've got beauty and even just intellectual satisfaction in it. Suppose I can live with a lack of emotional fulfillment for a while if the other boxes are ticked.

Back from south...

I wonder what the Bad News Fairies have got for me to stress about? I daren't open my mail to find out !

A decent trip down south, all in all I was feeling the lack of sleep on Saturday/Sunday by the time I got to Sutton Bridge and that was still with another hundred miles to run. My host the Alien was doing family things as I approached Ipswich so as I was passing, I dropped in to see my good buddies Mr and Mrs H. It honestly wasn't my intention to blag dinner - no really - but I timed it right anyway and was fed a lovely spicy veggie creation and a pint, thanks folks, most unexpected but pleasant! Gave me back a book on the Falklands I loaned him about nine years ago, and had just turned up in spring cleaning so more minor interest there. As per usual, it's a mad rush when I'm down there, so I scooted over to see Kaz, she of the boyfriend difficulties to see what was new in her life (not a lot but blagged cups of tea), before Kev came over, and we headed back to his palace for zed's, much overdue in my case.

Up in the morning, new suit donned and off into town via the rat runs to beat the rush hour. Half an hour to wait until the phone shop opens (jeez, who opens their business at 9.30 these days anyway.....), so I popped into Lakeland plastics. Dangerous thing to do that is, since I've developed the kitchen gadget snaffling habit. Sure enough, more wonga notes spent on things to make my kitchen even more groovy. Damn. Not that I can cook anything, you understand. I just like gadgets and widgets. Scuttled off to the phone shop and picked up a super sexy and slim new Samsung handset, as the charger socket on my Motorolla is starting to get a bit iffy, usually the beginning of the end in my experience. Anyway, it's new toy month.

Then on to the cemetery for a burial. A religious one; being of the atheist persuasion that's not my cup of tea, but half my family are very devout and it's their party, so to speak. If I was after brownie points from my family, which I'm not, I'd have got them for the 300 mile round trip for the funeral of a lady I wasn't that close to. Like I said, don't need brownie points, but I had a go at crippling my long standing repuation for unpunctuality by turning up early. Just got to keep it up for the next twenty years, and even then I'll still be "the late bloke" in certain quarters. Nice service anyway, my uncle did is own tribute to his mum, which as ever when he has to do anything speech'y was excellent. "Nice" is a bit of a cop out, but that's what the day was. It's always groovy to get together with that side of the family; lovely people, the issue of our somewhat different positions on the subject of faith is never made an issue. Got to meet one of my babycousin's new bloke (guess what... he's nice...), good to catch up with the rest of them, including the first of my babycousins to be in the family way herself. Excuse for a party in a few months time anyway! Scarey thought isn't it, gentle reader.... Shadey Mike being a real person with a genuine family that aren't cartoon characters or ogres like he is ;o)

Off for tea at my grans, then off north again into a very pretty sunset (yes, I know the sun doesn't set in the north but ..... sheesh, I give up, it was in front of me and I've got the cameraphone picture to prove it), a good fast run back, marred a little when I killed. What looked like a mixie rabbit bimbled out thirty yards in front of my car when I was making, erm, good speed. Not a damned thing I could do about it, especially considering the homing ability of the human eye in these situations; you tend to hit what you're looking at, it's just nature - that's why motorcyclists are trained not to look at the hazard in the road, but around it. I take it that the kill was quick. A 22 rifle bullet in the nut is more than sufficient to nobble a bunny. I take it that two tons of fast moving car to the head is more than capable of seeing Peter Rabbit off.

PLEASE TELL ME THIS ISN'T A HOAX!!!!


Police hunt farting dissident

http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_2019571.html?menu=

Police in Poland have launched a nationwide hunt for a man who farted
loudly when asked what he thought of the president.
Hubert Hoffman, 45, was charged with "contempt for the office of the head
of state" for his actions after he was stopped by police in a routine
check at a Warsaw railway station.
He complained that under President Lech Kaczynski and his twin brother
Jaroslaw, the country was returning to a Communist style dictatorship.
When told to show more respect for the country's rulers, he farted loudly
and was promptly arrested.
Hoffmann was arrested and released on bail but failed to turn up at a
Warsaw court early this week to be tried, and the judge in the case
rejected an appeal by defence lawyers to throw the charges out.
A court spokesman said: "Such a case of disrespect is taken very
seriously."
Instead the court ordered the police to start a nationwide hunt for the
man, and interpol have been alerted.

No more sleep, thought I might have been drifting off but a bad dream came in and put paid to that. Brain's gone mad with stuff; not bad stuff, but "things to do" stuff that may have been backed up for a while in there, either that or my night in company's pressed a button or two.

Sod it, given up on trying to get my head down any more, just accepting that today, domestic chores (what chores? A large brandy, thank you very much) are going to start really early.

Oh, and finally, for fans of the small killer in the house. You'll be glad to know he's clearly worked out how to stalk with his new collar and bell, just found my first corpse for about a month....

No I won't. It's neither big nor clever to use enormous quantities of potent alcohol to make you sleep. It's funny and gets you lots of blokepoints, but who needs 'em anyway.

Gah, being grown up sucks.

Brilliant.

Awake, alert and a racing brain at three in the morning.

I shall read for a bit; if this continues beyond tonight I guess I'll be down to ASDA picking up the ingredients for Doctor Shadey's Patent Potent Insomnia Cure again

A quality evening, Lamby.

Drove a very long way to drop in on friends, just to be different and in an attempt to scupper my bad reputation, turned up early. The gay coloured Shadeymobile is doing strange things at the moment in the engine reliability department, but made it anyway. Drank an outrageous amount of coffee and had most enjoyable conversation before my mate's LoH made it over from work and we cracked the beers and ordered the pizzas. Sunk a large amount of beer and a frankly scandalous amount of wine before bailing out at stupid o clock, well past everybody's bedtime. Was frankly amazed at just how fast the evening went, got there at around half four and it was nine before I knew it. Corking evening, folks. Lots talked about, batteries recharged lots. I realise that it's actually seriously bad for me being here on my own all the time; I'm craving company, and a night drinking foolish amounts of falling down juice with very good mates is a vital tonic. No wonder I've been a grump.

Eventually dared to face the roads, the afternoon after. Popped into friendly territory to make a delivery, then had a major shopping splurge; one black suit procured for next week's unpleasantness. Also looks pretty damned funky for informal use, think I'm going to enjoy that. Also visited the pet emporium to obtain replacement magnets, Giz is on his spare on for tripping the elecronic cat flap so in case he loses this one too, more have to be sourced. The only problem with shopping was that there's not an O2 shop where I was, so I'm going to have to wait 'til next week to upgrade my phone to something super smart and sexy. Came back to housework and fridge moving, but you don't want to hear about that. I'm superkeen to start on my lounge, and are having to restrain my hand to start trashing things in there before I've sorted the bathroom. Planning's already advanced, I'm thinking about moving the computer down there on a wireless network - just for the sheer variety of it, plus I'm sick and tired of this box room for working in! Got my mate down south who knows about sparkying tapped to do my bathroom wiring, so that'll be a few quid saved, I can move this mess of a house on a bit. Yay! Then maybe I can get the damned place sorted and sold, I can be on my own just as effectively in nicer places than where I am living, thank you very much !

Just finished off the end of "Conspiracy" on dvd before heading out to face the world... seems to be WWII high level Nazi film week. Brilliant film but not I fear for all tastes, Branagh's superb as Reinhard Heydrich; a film for the brain of those that have an interest. No car chases. Sorry. Another one on the DVD purchase list. Damn, expenditure on these has been large this month.

Right, day's lazy enough. Time to do stuff.

25 SIGNS YOU HAVE GROWN UP

25. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them
24. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.
23. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.
22. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
21. You hear your favorite song in an elevator.
20. You watch the Weather Channel.
19. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up."
18. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.> > 17. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up."
16. You're the one calling the police because those %&@# kids next door won't turn down the stereo.
15. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.
14. You don't know what time the kebab shop closes anymore.
13. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.
12. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers.
11. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.
10. You take naps.
9. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.
8. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, rather than settle, your stomach.
7. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.
6. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good shit."
5. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.
4. "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm never going to drink that much again."
3. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.
2. When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate them instead of asking "Oh shit what the hell happened?"

And the number one sign you are getting old is:

1. You read this entire list looking desperately for one sign that doesn't apply to you and can't find one to save your sorry old ass. Then you forward it to a bunch of old friends 'cause you know they'll do the same damned thing.

Smelled like the first day of winter when I got up at six today. May sound daft that you can tell the season by smell, but folks that are old enough to remember red telephone boxes with dial phones.... I'm right, aren't I? Better get my Fuschia's under cover 'cause one decent northern frost will see them off. They've been promised shelter with a green fingered mate down south for the winter, who'll hopefully nurse them to slightly better health than they've been in for a while. I've a feeling the problem is that they don't like the wind - they're actually in a very windy spot, it can be gusty as hell up here and you get a bit of a vortex effect here at the end of the cul-de-sac.

A fairly quiet one at work... spent my first day on the radiation sniffer; it's all part of the security initiative post 9/11 and is quite a jolly toy; with the extra advantage that I got an extra hour akip, which is always appreciated. Suprised for a few seconds while wandering around the dock that from time to time I got little flashes of the old buzz I used to get about being there when I started, years ago. Funny that... for the last couple of years, I especially valued, nay relied on, little flashes of inspiration, good mood, reminders of who I could actually be if I could break through the moods. The catylist for that sort of reaction's changed these days, but I still love it when it happens, maybe there's a chance that actually one day I may be genuinely fulfilled again. I'm supposed to be on call for a week from tomorrow, but I booked a couple of days leave for a trip which as it turned out had to be scrubbed, so I shall take some time to myself. I think a day's plane spotting is in order for tomorrow, that is if I can find my camera charger in time, and drinkies with a mate in the evening. Then a weekend in the garden before planting my aged rellie down sarrrf on Monday. I've picked up a pager and packed a "go-bag" in case the balloon DOES go up and I'm wanted at short notice, but for previously booked leave, they can frankly kiss my arse. I know you'd expect a better attitude from a front line law enforcer, but quite honestly, at the moment I'm generally not impressed!

Sparky just left the house... my landline is all fixed after my unfortunate flooring cable snipping incident which is good. More work to be done next week, never know, this rathole might actually start looking like a saleable house by 2009.

I'd just like to confirm for the readership of this humble bloggette that the writer is a man of some intelligence, behaviour firmly based on a good heart and a sensible head and really, despite it all - pretty sane considering.

So I'd like to say very firmly that the large figure that could seen in my old office (empty for the day as that team were out at yet another meeting), roaring with laughter and dancing around the room flipping V's at all of the telephones as they rang themselves to death with him having absolutely no responsibility or obligation to answer them for the first time in years was definately NOT me, ok?

Know what, my days of contrasts might splice up the boredom factor, but they're bouncy up and down to a ridiculous level today, and I wish they'd stop for a bit.

BAD. Overslept this morning, late into work. Wouldn't have minded if I'd have been pissed last night but I was healthy and off to bed in good time

GOOD. Made it through with a bit of credibility; there's an opportunity for secondment with a deep search team and they've put me in for it. Danger, fun and muck. It'll mean breathing apparatus so lets hope the quack's a good news guy later.

BAD. Parking at the doctors surgery. Drove around fizzing for ages trying to find a gap anywhere in a half mile radius that wasn't full of codhead car. Gaaah.

GOOD. The doctors. For those that are curious, I've got cancer of the arse and have six days to live. No. Only joking. It just seems that way after a night on the Broadside ale. My quack (who I've never met before and actually took an instant dislike to) reckons it's weight related (don't they always), possibly my fitness has just run down to a certain extent. That might make sense actually, the amount of time I've spent stuck on this machine in the last several years. Cat allergy is unlikely, he's sending me for an x-ray to make sure it's not coal dust from work (I work near a couple of million tons of stockpiled coal imports, the dust gets everywhere). Apparently, even in my current wretched state, I've still got above average lung function (jeeez, what do you have to do to get crap lungs) and that was from a huff 'post horrible lurgy, that I didn't think was anywhere near good enough. Mind you, still think it'll do no harm to get the cleaners in and beast this house out good and proper, ingrained dust, cat hair, cat smell etc.

BAD: My plane ticket to Jersey that I tried to cancel is non refundable. Doh. It's not like I can go on the trip now, or anything. Even if I wasn't prevented for reasons obvious to those that know me, on the day I was supposed to be coming back, I'm supposed to be in Ippo planting that dead female relly of mine. So I'm sixty quid refundless, tripless and just a small bit annoyed. Not much, 'cause you have to keep sane about these things, especially if you've got my record for flipping out over trivia to improve, but none the less.... d'oh.

Look here Life, I appreciate the importance of balance in all things, but could you quit it for a bit here? I feel like a bloody yo-yo. By which I do not mean I expect a dozen of the things to arrive by post tomorrow, folks. And if we're working on the balance issue here Life, don't you think you need to give me a lottery win to at least start to make up for last month?????

A day of contrasts so far. Dragged myself into the fun factory for the first day back of entertainment after sickness. Wasn't to be honest in the mood for it, and I'm already more than a little tired of the machine nature of the work; no time for prep or consolidation, just out, out, out all the time. Haven't had any real time to educate myself since I've been back, mentoring is non existant. I'm suprised they've got the cheek to have the Investors in People plaque on the front office. But anyway. Dragged myself through a couple of routine stop and searches off the morning arrival, then back to the ranch to go straight out again for another. Got txt's from a few folks during the morning; it's nice to be remembered, including one from a very welcome voice from the recent past who cheered me, although who has had quite a shite afternoon, which which I empathise muchly! It wasn't that that cheered me, honest ! ! !

Seems it's the season for stress, one of my mates on my old team is chucking his partner out, empathy exhanged on the doorstep as he was having a fag break looking rough as I left; not so much tea and sympathy as sypmpathy and a promise of beer the first time he's available. Why is there just so much shite about at the moment? Three of my mates under the shrink, at least two more with shite relationships, my dad spilling his guts about an enormous longtime forbidden love that resulted in me? If I believed in any synchronicity, I'd believe someone was playing games. However, being the pragmatic sort, I actually suspect that life is just shite.

Quack is booked for tomorrow afternoon. About time too. As worried as I am about it, I want this short breath business identified for what it is, even if it's scary, and sorted. I'm having a strange time at the moment, and I want to do something about it; hit the gym will do for a warm up, hit the pool for afters, then the bike and whatever I have to do but there's no point if you have to be dragged out on a stretcher afterwards. I have to get this stuff sorted, I have things to do with life, hills to climb and miles to walk;they won't be sorted looking at my gym gear turn green in the bag.

Now, I don't want to ruin my reputation, and lose my membership of the scowly obsessive club, but here's a couple of bits of evidence to the fact that this fat man does in fact know how to smile... birds courtesy of FLoH and the Falconry Centre at Kirby Wiske, North Yorkshire.

Awoke and drank tea; feeling that it would be nice if October 2006 is just one incident or two nicer than September was. I don't ask for much out of life, but if it can maybe just go fifteen minutes without taking a Guinness fueled liquidshit on my head this month, that'd be pretty funky. Kind of felt that September was pretty incontinent in that respect.

Flicked on the telly for a couple of minutes, where I very strongly felt that I did not want to buy into the crap they want to pump into my head today, aborted that possibility of entertainment. Early morning run to ASDA, where I forgot to buy the one thing I desparately needed, so I'm still on ultra low supplies of milk at the moment. Found a quality Sunday newspaper though, so that was nice, I've bought into the crap that the Independant want to pump into my head instead. Not sure if that's a failure or not, don't really care either. Got the laundry on the go, then noticed that the drains in the back garden are backing up, so that's the man with the rods to be called tomorrow - this month has started well so far, not.

Reality striketh here at Fortress Shadey. Kaz has come to the end of her stressbreak, her folks have just departed with her, heading south so it's back to solo reality here. Remains to be seen how much I'm going to like that. Bless 'er, having the lass around has done me if not a lot of good, at least it's stopped me going completely gaga. Both of us have had a ton of issues to work through, so it's basically been a godsend. At least there's stuff to do and trips to plot. Apart from the obvious, there's a large gap left by the old internet group thing; although for obvious reasons I can't and won't go back (if I did, my ancestors would knock the world off it's axis, spinning in their graves at my weakness), I find myself looking for contact and entertainment in what's left, which isn't there. Nothing doing. Been in this routine now for six years, it's bloody addiction. And guess what, I'm still hooked, or I wouldn't be here. Are we really so insular and alone now that we HAVE to do this? Guess so.