Nothing changes on New Years Eve

Heh. Sorry, just wanted to use that title.

So where are we? Car's fixed; spent half the afternoon driving around sounding like a Dodge Charger on nitro (and that was just the flatulence) before my little Honda pootled into view; until I found an exhaust workshop that was a) open and b) actually could get hold of the parts needed within a reasonable timescale. Pipe snapped off at the backbox. I'm sure I only had that replced a year or so back. I must enquire, and consider shouting at people when I get back to hell. I suspect that my working environment is not healthy for anything, even mechanical - coal dust and other corrosives everywhere; glad I refuse to take my bike there. While I was at it, took the opportunity to pop in to see my old and surreal buddy JH who it turns out is feeling crap, crocked back. Going down with him to Londinium in the new year to see Spamalot for Mrs JH's birthday (and I'm not brave enough to say which one), so I must program that in to the working schedule or all will go horribly pear shaped, as it normally does. Should be interesting; drunken and surreal behaviour usualy ensues when we're let off the leash together and we've not done The Smoke in years.

Couldn't find an open barber... hair's getting a bit untidy, so off to a buddy who's got a set of hairclippers to sort that out. Necessary new year purchase for me I think; I've been lacking this capability since my old electric razor got smashed in Slov' back in July, just haven't gotten around to prioritising a replacement. More important things to buy. Beer and toys. You know what it's like. Anyway, lunch with the Olds is on the cards for later; and of course we have to plot silliness for tonight. Pub and Club seem to be where we are heading. Would often go to a certain house party at this time of year; but it transpires the host has been reading my guidebook on how to run his life, and thus there is somewhat trauma and madness there at the moment.

Anyway, here's a thought. Now Sadaam's gorn, the thought strikes me that he's having a hot old time of it in hell, and we'd better not execute any Canadian children's entertainers for a while....

"Prrrrp. Ai! You f'harted!"

Drunken Internetting

And so to something rather more cheerful. Late night text messages informing me of cunning bargains, late night purchases, woo! Tell me things when I'm beered, I'm more likely to do something impulsive. Impulsive decisions are goooooood!

So I'm looking forward to the arrival of the complete "Black Books" in my dingy pit in Lincolnshire at a bargain knock down price.

Dancing on thin air, Iraqi style

So they've strung up Sadaam.

I might be getting a bit liberal and wooly thinking in my old age, but can anybody else here actually think that this is a GOOD thing? And the image of him on the BBC of him being noosed by un-uniformed men wearing masks, thugs in leather jackets... Just another militia murder video. Illegal invasion, show trial, judicial killing on a muslim holy day... makes yer proud to be associated with it, I tell yer. This shit will run and run. Happy new year.

Road Trip

Oh kebabs... leave me alone!!! Once again failed to listen to my own opinions and advice.

Typing this at my mother's place in Ipswich as part of my mission to roadtest the sofa's of everybody I know before the new year. Just down the road is a large three storey building surrounded by plastic, tents and policemen that they're currently doing mysterious things to, as t'was the dwelling of the chap they've got for the murders that have been going on here lately. The cat's frantic to see me again, which is very cute. I didn't know he cared. And I've picked up mum's birthday present and FLoH's belated christmas present but don't tell them I said that.

D'oh!

It's been a busy one.... lots of invites from my mates who want to make sure I'm not going mad on my own this season, which is kinda lovely. Did the christmas dinnerthing over at SouthernSophie's, with her other half, a brief stop off at the national pub of the year (The Dove Inn, Ipswich... for those familiar with these parts, take it from me it's now outpubbing the Fat Cat which takes some doing) for a small one. As is the nature of these things, I popped into the snug to see a chap I used to work with, whereupon I found, out of the line of my sight, a friend from school that I've not seen in twenty years with his family. So that was groovy in the extreme. Then off to Felixstowe to do the christmassygoodwill thing with Kaz and Michelle, mates of that parish... then back to digs at Chez Alien Kev to jump into alternative transport, load up the incredible amounts of beer in carryout pots I bought earlier, and back to SouthernSophie's for homemade Raspberry Gin, Andy's special "Gloucester Fighting Trifle" (made with the raspberries that have spent two years soaking in the gin...... naughty..........) and DVD fun with Wallace and Gromit. Highly acceptable evening.

Woke at gentleman's hours on boxing day and set about the errands of the day; dropped off a package on behalf of FLoH to the two gentlemen of this area that loaned us their house in foreign parts for two weeks of slobbing in heaven. And then from there to see my aunt and cousin's in Capel, for a quick spot of socialising. Which turned into a very long bit of socialising. There's a lot of them; the three girls and all husbands/fiancee's, plus my uncle and aunt and it's a fairly noisy deal, which is no bad thing. All the girls have matured into rather excellent people I have rather a lot of time for and the partners are all excellent blokes so it was an extremely enjoyable occaision and I spent far more time than I'd planned. Which was nice. And then onto mothers for enormous veggie christmas stylee food fest kina thing with my gran and stepfather which goes on well into the night. The last of the big feasts. I think with one thing and another, when the reckoning is done, I'll find that stone and a half I've lost in the last couple of months has come back and brought some mates with it. Oh well. Soon be back under my own neglectful care, soon get rid of that.

Left for Hull the following morning to pay my seasonal respects to Miss Biro Jules, who's appeared before in this blogette; stopped off via Harrogate to watch thirty men kick the living crap out of each other in the name of charity and rugby, and in my case, to win a bottle of wine in the draw. Which was nice. I'm very fond of Harrogate RUFC, I feel as much at home in that town as I do anywhere, and got a lovely vibe about the club as soon as I walked in on that first afternoon in 2004. Even though I don't spend anything like as much time in the town as I used, I still don't begrudge a 180 mile round trip to see some sport. Which is suprising, considering they're shite! Off to Jules' via home to drop off loot and laundry, then a most pleasant evening of natter, falling down water, mucking about with bluetooth, a certain amount of downloading Pakistani Daleks, Stripping Magicians and a lot of stroking her pussy. Cat. Pussy cat. Millie, the pussy cat. Reader, go and wash your mind out. A late start the following day, largely due to the late finish the previous night. Bacon sandwiches, the breakfast of kings. Then VJ came over, one of the people from the F board (no free publicity for that place on MY blog) which was nice. Never really gotten to speak to her before, which made a nice civilised change; although the poor lass has driven about six hundred miles on a broken coxyx and can hardly bloody walk. That board contains a lot of good people that frankly I miss, but the cut's been made, and it needed to be. It wasn't good for me, and I'm not good for it. But I'll might be asking for some contact details in the new year. Anyways up; wandered into Hull proper for curry at the Wetherspoons with the girls and VJ's fella, then drove off into the fog again...

And woke today in Grantham; in the sociable home of TB (to clarify, that is my friend of that name, not that I've contracted nasty contagious diseases of the lungs). A quick visit that turned into a spontaneous pub crawl; ah my favorate kind. Five pubs visited, six beers had. And Wetherspoons Grantham don't do Sambucca, shame on them. For the record:

Blue Pig: Rugby Twickers, Rugby No. 8
Nobody Inn: Newby & Wyke Bear Island
Chequers: Woodfordes Wherry
Goose at the Bank: Batemans Rosey Nosey
Wetherspoons: Oldershaw Yuletide

The locals thought I was nuts making notes, but it was just so that I could keep a grip on the evening. Honest. Closing time cometh;onto hateful kebabs and back to TBTowers for demolition of a certain bottle of a certain schnappes; and a certain indulgence in the wickedness known as Jakkattak, which has bitten me before. Being traditional, while this is happening, Motorhead was located on the MP3's folder (when I was a lad, we used to find the albums and stick 'em on the turntable....) and cranked up loud...

And so now. Supposed to be going north tomorrow evening, having drinkies and coming back south again. This I fear is knackered. My 1.5 Honda is currently sounding like an American Muscle Car. The exhaust has blown. So it's going to spend tomorrow up on a ramp with some hairy mechanic tutting and working out just how big a percentage of his holiday to Monaco I'm going to pay for. Kindathing that puts the mockers on your plan for the day really....

Off!

Well folks, that's it for me for a day or two... about to set off on my journeys for the next week or so. For those of you I'll not see in the next few days....

Happy christmas ! ! ! !

This way for Murray Mints instead of Humbugs

OK, so lets put this in it's place.

Battery's in place, car's mobile, oiled, watered and ready to roll.

Yesterday's "made from scratch" curry which I didn't mention was very nice indeed. Proper cheffing's fun.

The 18 year old bottle of beer (was saving it for a special occaision) which fell from a shelf and exploded all over the kitchen floor was less pleasant.

But at this moment in time, all is back on course. Presents wrapped, booze selected.

Alles klar, Herr Kommissar

Yay!

This way for humbug, ladies and gents...

Of course, when I said I could feel movement on the wind, I didn't consider that it could be worse. This is what happens when you give optimism a chance, it gets you from behind.

In forty five minutes I am supposed to be meeting a friend for coffee, forty miles away.
My car is currently sitting in the drive, with the battery and starter saying BUHclikclikclikclikclikwhirrrrrrrrrrr rather than the more usual "vroooom" after the night's frost has done an excellent job of killing it off.

Except that being instead peaked and defeated by this, I'm going to kick some. I can multitask, and while rattling this tale of woe out, have been on the blower to Halfords. Coffee, missed. This issue firmly prioritised in the grand scheme of things, solution in the pipe and coming on fast.

Festive fat pie

Now, every year I say I'm going to be more organised about this christmas thing; sometimes I even manage it. Last year for instance, I was quite good about it. Not so this year. As I believe I've mentioned, the framework of my existance ain't what it used to be at the moment; work's mad and I just haven't flagged Christmas up as happening - with the exception of the loud grumping that seems to be expected of me - until it's right on top. So yesterday, the major shopping commenceth. Actually, not as stressful as you'd think. My trick is to do it with an Ipod attached, so you've got your own little world of funky tunes going on and you don't have the kristmasmuzak, the gabber of hundreds of tight packed people and all the other things that cause stress. I quite enjoyed it. Got most of my list sorted, the rest's to be dealt with today. Bugged out when it was time to, not when the shops closed, which was nice. No point in pushing the deal. Anyway, I had things to do, a house to sort out and parcels to wrap before people came over for beer.

Got the parcels wrapped, the week's laundry on the go and the dishwasher unpacked before Alien Kev turned up with a couple of ladies of his drinking aquaintance, Nicky and Alex. I can tell when Kev's been in the house; the bog roll holder had fallen to pieces again and I hadn't gotten around to fixing it. Went in for the morning post-beer dump (yeah, like you really wanted to know that, but you KNOW what I'm talking about here) and it's fixed. Not mentioned or anything, just fixed. The lad's a born techie tinkerer, can't help himself. And if I don't have to patch up my own house, long may this continue lol ! ! ! Got a taxi into town; reckon we could have walked, the girls like comfortable shoes but we're just lazy. Went to the barge, drank quantities of naughty juice, wobbled off and had fish and chips instead of Kebab, so that's a victory. No wankers this time, just a cab ride back to home base and attacked the beer and spirits stock while watching videos. Very civilised. They've now headed off to have a look at the seal pups at Donna Nook on the way home, and I'm going to wobble into town to polish off the KrimbleShopp, drop off a final card or two and arrange a few things. I don't feel I've done enough this year; the restrictions and walls of the current life seem to have blinded me to it for a bit; I do actually enjoy it when I get started. When I do the review of this year, it's going to be an interesting one.

Well that's that then

By 'eck, Cheeky Vimto's aren't good for you. Picked up by my lift into work today, as I abandoned the car at a pub yesterday. Felt a little off colour but felt much better to see that the only one of my fellow boozers who made it into work was totally broken. Yay!

If yesterday's post had ever made it on here, you'd have read that the station was on wind down for the period, which almost guaranteed that we'd have a crisis of some description. Duly, it happened. Major success, the late crew had to work a double shift to get it all done and squared away; the bad guys can consider themselves fairly screwed this time. We had a reasonably sensible time, considering. Went out with official papers to traders premises, had piss off a link in the chain who needed to be pissed off - and duly pissed him off. Hey ho, it pays the mortagage.

And so it's done.

Final shift of the year is over. There's a dead mouse among the cards on the mat when I got home. Christmas is not looking quite as bleak as it was; in fact it's looking bloody hectic and I'm going to cover a lot of miles; going south, then far south, then north, far north, east and south again before I get to head home North on Jan 1st. If anybody in Cornwall wants to invite me over, I can get all compass points in. Had a couple of invites today which I'm going to try to honour; also got a few already, people to see, etc. This could be rather groovy. I've got a gut feeling about this break; I feel curiously upbeat, it's as if I can feel movement in the wind. Oh, sorry, that's beer guts again....

Email delivery

Well, I sent a mid morning post, honest guv. I sent it from my desk at work, being a bit of a wowdy webbel, and all that; plus having worked out how to send from email, as I'm not sure that blogger.com is that welcome on a governement law enforcement server. And it still hasn't delievered. Either the email is crap or I'm for the sack next year.

Anyway, it said I was going for a beer. And I did. And I enjoyed it. And I'm now rather pissed and going for a pizza. And if it turns up in chronological order, you'll enjoy it. Or not!

Pea Soup

Very little creative to say about it really. It was supposed to be a nice organised day, a preplanned scheme; everything was wonderfully planned last night. In the meantime, the mob downstairs identified two clients that they categorised as high priority; the boss decided he wanted two of our guys split off to monitor another department doing our thing and our nice planned day got cancelled due to fuckwittage. I was not pleased. In fact, I was fuming. Although in fact I don't know how much of that had to do with fatigue. This second week of earlies is beginning to bite in a very big way and I'm not at my sparkly best. And the weather's not been a lot of fun either... stomping about in freezing fog at six in the morning is not my idea of fun, plus it's really bloody dangerous. Anyway, this is turning into a whinge, I'm just jacked off, too tired and my mother's battering my ear on the phone as I type about the wonderul things I can buy for christmas in M&S (arrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhh) so I'm going to call it quits...

Operation Northern Santa

Now, there are certain people that would suggest that driving 180 miles in the stinkiest, crappiest nasty pea soup fog of the year just to deliver a couple of presents and a card to an old friend would be a waste of time, an un-necessary risk, possibly not sensible.

Well, these folks obviously have no soul, and haven't met me, my sense of fun and my taste for JFDI'ing it! They can in fact, to quote my old vodka monstering friend, Big Gay Al (no, no, not the one in Yorkshrie who WAS actually gay)... "kiss my stinky ring" !!!!

It was a good trip out.

Shops that could have been better named... part 1

Now it could just my vicious and perverse sense of humour, but I really don't think they meant to avertise THAT stuff....

Stansted airport, last week....

Seals humping

By 'eck, I'm knackered.

Been a weekend of some hectic'ness. My good buddy, Worksmeister Alien Kev came up north to hit my house with hammers until it was better. And he brought an angle grinder. Mmmmmmmmm angle grinder..... Every kitchen needs one. The ultimate boy toy. My mate Kaz came up as well for providing tea, glamour and getting the hell out of Ipswich herself! Plenty stuff done, plenty more to do. Some drinkies taken in the evenings; unfortunately encountered a few local shitheads last night which spoilt it for me, no heavy drama but enough to blunt the evening for me.

So, off to the local spot of tourist interest this morning before we commence work. Donna Nook range again. A few more seals than last time. Hundreds of the buggers in fact. They're right up to the fence; and in the places where there's no fence, people are walking right up to them, or at least until the seal says "sod off mate, that's near enough". Kind of mixed feelings on this... I don't like the very large crowd present treating real live animals like a petting zoo. But it gets kids and parents close, and respecting and learning, which can only be a positive thing. And yes, there really were seals humping. In front of everyone. And in front of their pups, the poor little sod was looking away. I mean, how much did the thought of our folks having sex freak US out? They've just got no shame. I'm sure I can flog the pictures to some fetish website or other....

A brief history of HomeTime

Works meal. What's to say about it? Got there eventually, although my colleague attemped to confuse me by being too drunk to direct me to the right pub in the right street, and then asked someone for assistance who was even drunker. Hey ho. I was cross at the time, but that didn't survive the first bottle of Brown Ale, which pleased me.

I came. I saw. I drank a not inconsiderable amount of booze. My fatal mistake was confusing my usual reply of "thanks, I'd love a pint" with the fresh new pretender "thanks, I'd love a scotch" or the jaded old romantic hack "thank, I'd love a sambucca".

Wobbled out at a stupid hour of the night after watching the late pissed up argument between colleagues, being one of the two last men standing I made my way home via Drunkocabs late night beer scooter service for pissed people; dragged my carcass out of my pit at an unsociable insane hour of the morning to go back to work like the bloody hero I am. Spent the day staring at things that had to be stared at with that special behind-the-left-eye-whiskeypain that only a night on this horrid blended rotgut can give you. Deep joy.

Slovene oddities... last lot.

Dragon Bridge.... covered in these chaps. Supposed to wag their tails when a virgin walks past. They didn't move all day. What does this say about the local girls?

Took a lot of pictures of the graffiti. Most of it was depressing and made me a little sad. This, on the other hand was inspired and rather cool... The Blues Bollards...

And in the next exciting episode, Shadey Mike gets drunk on whiskey....

The poet

France Prešeren. Nation's beloved poet. Helluva guy, not one happy camper. Life wasn't nice to him. A romantic, cursed by big love, for a doris who didn't return it, silly cow. A bloke with a heart that size? What the hell do they want? Clearly more than the world's got. In the style of the national sense of irony, there's a relief of his never-love peeking out of the buildings nearby so even now, he can never quite get to her. Anyway, don't think he was missing much. If it's half accurate scupture, she had horrible tits ;o)


A shame they couldn't revere the poor sod when he was alive if you ask me.

Christmas, Eastern European style

Mum, can I have a one hundred ton stone fountain for christmas please?

Sure son, we'll get one giftwrapped at the shop...

Special delivery... Rudolph's up on blocks after too much Pivo in his feed....

Ljubljana by day

No slacker in the daylight hours either....

Ljubljana by night

In and around Prešeren Square.... ain't it pretty ! ! !

So anybody want to know how my weekend went?

Tough. Gonna tell you anyway.

Time had come to leave the country. Unfortunately, I have to come back at some point. No fair. Been trying to grummage up some interest from various itinerant alcoholics of my aquaintance for some time, as it was only one came out to play. Good job really as it turned out, a weekend full of cockup, planning on one's feet and such ensued. What is it about weekends off that they're twice as stressful as weekends on?

Missed the flight on Friday. That's the biggie and the lesson learned. Next time, damn the expense and get a travelodge by the airport. Crap traffic on the long long drive down the A16 and A12 cost me the flight. Fuming at Stansted, but didn't rip the ears off Sleasyjet's drone, as tempting as it was; instead layed out more wonga to move the flights to the following day, chopped the break in half and headed to London for the evening. Got as far as Grenwich, just short of the Wonderbra (Millenium Dome... looks fantastic from the outside but never anything worth looking at inside) and got booked into an overpriced mass produced plastic packed hotel room; didn't have the energy to hit the centre of the smoke, so we wandered off for pizza and pictures; the Borat movie. Wasn't at all sure about wanting to see this one, but enough people are raving for me to take an interest, so went, watched and laughed my arse off. So very much is oh so very wrong. "Chocolate face! No makeup!" "my moustache still smells of your testes". Very very wrong, very very good. And enough of that already. Back to the hotel for overpriced beer and and early dart up the M11.

Up at Sparrow's fart on Saturday, loaded up the funbuggy and off, unfortunately stopping only to pay my bill. Onto the big orange bird and turned up an hour and a bit later in glorious Slovenia. Where it's dark and pissing it down with rain, somewhat different to my last trip there. Looks like they're starting to take it seriously... new enclosed airstairs on the ramp, shuttle busses to take you to the terminal, and in fact a totally new arrivals hall. Typical of the place, asked at the info desk for shuttle busses into town and she gestured me to exactly the right place, tearing off an enormous map of Lubljana from a pre printed pad of them, casually but effectively circling the dropoff point with a biro.

Got to our rather basic balkans hotel exactly five minutes after a thirty strong party of Italian hockey players had turned up. Oh dear. You know what Italians are like. And I never was one for crowds, let alone loud ones full of kids. Never mind, after a steak dinner where I shocked the waitress by ordering beer in the proper Slovene (oh come on, not like that one's difficult), into town for more beer in the old town. I'd been licking my lips waiting for my first glass of Laschko Pivo since before I left Stansted and now it was really kicking in. Never got as far as my destination. Skies opened, tiddled down with rain, aborted the rush for the old town, made a circuit and headed back to the hotel. Pausing only to take spectacular shots of the christmas dec's on my phonecamera 'coz it's the standing water that gives such magical quality of light.

Was on the final corner before the hotel, when I happened to glance down towards a side street and spotted a friendly and familiar green and white illuminated sign, saying "Laschko" with a little antelope on it, and stayed until we got locked in. Yay! There's something you don't see in the UK nowadays, drinking til sillyoclock isn't half as much fun without the illegality.

Not really enough time to play with, but enjoyed a very nice ramble aroud Ljubljana the following morning; the fountains all appear to be boarded up for the season. The loony Slovenes, bless 'em have wrapped them all up in shiney paper with big silver bows, seasonal style. Bless 'em! Graffiti all over the place unfortunately, even on the nicer buildings... some disaffected youth there methinks. Quite a lot referring to the percieved lack of their country; maybe europe but moreso people like us going over there and eating all the pies. I can see where they're coming from. But not enough to discourage me from going out there and filling up on alpine air. Ain't I a hypocrite. Worryingly, the occaisional swastika and A.C.A.B are on the walls of Lub', I presume the latter has a racial/anarchic connection, although the trad' British "all coppers are b*stards" I would be suprised to see migrated here. Stopped for a bevvy in my fav' Lub' bar, The Katacombs, then made a move to the craft market where I scared myself. Found a most groovy reproduction weaponary stall; was very taken with the full face helmet, horse for the use of that would have looked marvellous on my lounge wall. Not so taken with the fact that it would have cost a fortune to put in the baggage hold; that I shouldn't spend a load of wad on myself when I haven't even bought presents for other folks yet. The fact that it might give Customs the willies entering the UK just added to the reasons to buy it :o). Not so much though the reproduction Roman gladius they had, that would have been too much!

My hometown's running out of hoors.....

Sorry about the rather tasteless title, an poor attempt to parody the well known (well, it must be, I've heard of it) "my neighbor's are hoors" blog. But it's a fact; five dead prostitutes in two weeks. Someone's on a spree in Ipswich, and the polis are busy busy bees. Now to my mind, it's a three way race between being a conventional pervert, a conventional psychopath or a religious nut. Being of an extremely cynical bent, my money's on the latter.

The problem with this sort of thing, from a personal point of view rather than the obvious distress to the families and friends of the dead girls, who lets face it, just because their circumstances led them down this rather unfortunate path, aren't automatically people who deserve horrible things happening to them (rather the blokes that use them when they've got perfectly good wives and families at home are); is that my colleagues at work get one whiff of this, know where I come from, find out that I made a short stopover coming back from the airport on Sunday and immediately start making references to the Immingham Ripper, refusing to let me walk behind them, etc.

With friends like mine, who needs bastards?

Grease Monkey

OK, it was a bad choice of words.

Here's the story... out on the dock today doing a bit of ship boarding. Was anticipating being in a bit more shelter than I usually am out on the dockside so I wore the short length blouson jacket that allows you to carry proper belt order without looking like a weebl; as my normal dock coat's got all my tat in it, I had to grab a random pair of gloves from the locker and just go to catch the crew bus. Had a very enjoyable time doing things to a brand new ferry, when I noticed that the gloves had got axle grease down the inside of the cuff from the last time I wore them. My hands were covered in axle grease. The mug I was drinking coffee from was covered in axle grease. And so was my hardhat, where I'd removed it and put it back on a while back. This isn't ideal, so I wandered back to the office after we'd finished, binned the gloves and cleaned the grease of the hardhat in the gents so it wouldn't transfer to me every time I go out.

However; guess my colleagues were entitled to give me a very funny look when I wandered back in, and in response to their query as to where I'd been, said "been in the bogs washing me helmet, it's gotten all greasy...."

I'll never learn

A houseful of no food; a supper requirement; a Pizza menu... it's like the kebab issue I've mentioned before, I can be a masochist when it comes to food. I WILL order delivery pizza. I can't stop myself. I won't learn. And Dominos in this town are the one branch in the country that can't cook a damned thing right. And once again last night. Dominos Ipswich or Harrogate, you get a lovely perfect thing that looks like the picture or better. Here, you get a brown flat thing dusted with something that puts one in mind of of the Whammyburger scene in Falling Down where Michael Douglas holds the place up with a machine pistol and points out the difference between the marketing and "this squashed, flat thing" he's been served. Aught to put a block on their damned phone number, a notice in my stack of takeaway menus or order from one of the other strange places that always put kebab meat on a meat feast pizza... an excentricity unique to this town in my experience. I just have no resistance to shit food, come a certain time of the evening. You'd think I'd know better by now.

Not a good day anticipated. Today's mugshot day. New ID cards for all, and thus the whole station's got to be there and in white uniform and stroll to the visiting humiliation merchant down for the ritual stealing of our souls. Don't know what it is about official ID photographs; there's a whole subculture in our place of officers producing their warrant cards to each other, sniggering and "hur hur hur, look at my hairstyle back then, isn't it funny, lets see yours". Hmmm. Deep comedy. My own one looks like the troll in Moria from the first Lord of the Rings film; fresh #one haircut, five o clock shadow, the look of studied unintelligence, mouth drooped open at an angle that could not be described as "jaunty" - my excuse is that the lass working the machine didn't know how to do it and they caught me in mid "how long is this going to bloody take". Having said that, I suppose it's like passports; it wasn't until the age of modern digital photo booths that I was able to get any kind of official doccument that didn't make me look like a convicted criminal (football club travel pass); a gibbering retard (passport, entertains border control officers all over the world, that does) or something that's not quite human (European fireams pass). Nowadays I look like an alien, criminal, gibbering special needs case that's had the choice of about five attempts to get it right, so they're a bit of an improvment.

Bah

Ah well, exhaustion strikes.

Ended up at the airport yesterday, did my bit for Karma by not nobbling somebody who I was technically and legally entitled to nobble. Wasn't a big transgression so I sent him on his way with the knowledge that I could have been nastier. Ain't discression great. Thing is, the gods of karma have to be appeased; I'm travelling at the end of the week and if I don't keep them happy, I'll get held up by some small minded bullet bonced facist when I get back. Hmmm, someone just like me in fact. Don't know if it was the fluescant lights at the airport, by I had a real "pissholes in the snow" thing going on with my eyes on the way back, and from previous experience, I knew I was knackered. Went home, nobody about, so plonked myself in front of the gogglebox for a few minutes of Close Encounters to zero my brain. Woke up at two am to discover I'd fallen asleep in front of the telly; knocked over and broken my favorate Belgian beer glass, the Duvel one that I bought up north and used to live at FLoH's. Damn. Up to Knaresborough for a replacement then. Annoying, that. And expensive.

On the propellorheading front; two of the development Typhoons are supposed to be delievered to Coningsby today. DA4 for an as yet unannounced role; DA2, the British prototype to be stripped down prior to being moved to the RAF museum at Hendon. I thought Cosford'd be more appropriate, that's where the development collection is housed, but what do I know. Suppose it's considered prestige to have one at Hendon. No update on what time they're due, and with other committments, there's no way I could actually make it there and get back to 'Ming in time for work anyway. Hey ho. Rotten swine want me in an hour early today. No idea what for. These shifts and this team are beginning to eat into my life, not that I have much of one at the moment. Doesn't stop me resenting the intrusion though. There's places I could be going, people I could be seeing. There's only one resolution for 2007. TRAVEL again.

News report....

Said in the Independent weekend before last that there's a problem with the gay community deliberately not using condoms for their liaisons, irrespective of the AIDS threat....

Does that make them Suicide Bummers?

B'dum Tish

Tick tick boom.....

Well, it's a disgraceful day here. Been storming since the small hours, and currently it is, as us chaps from Suffolk say, "blowing a hoolie" and a' peesing it doon with rain, blackest nastiest skies I've seen in a while. Blessed be living in the north, eh.

Small embarassment yesterday, and entertainment for those of you that get off on such things ;o) ; I know a lass who does clothing adjustment and repairs. Been meaning to get my #1 uniform jacket properly tailored for ages. It was made on one of these nasty "send us your measurments and we'll run up the item" schemes years ago, and has never fitted right. I'm of the opinion that these items have to be right, or not bothered with so with that, and the fact that I had naff all else to do, I finally got my arse in gear and got the thing to someone who knows what they're doing. The conclusion was that it was odd... length was right, arms were right, no problem across the back, shouldn't be a real reason for any problem. Ah, what's this button? Do you use it? Turns out, there's an internal button, hidden that you're supposed to have fastened which takes the weight of the thing and makes it hang right. Fastened it.... problem solved.

Doh! ! ! Now, how in the name of arse was I ever supposed to know that ?!?!?!?!?

The fun factory wasn't worth talking about. Came damned close to losing my rag with my team; certain of them have an attitude to established ways of working that suck. And big mouths too. Can't be dealing with people like that. The latest intake seem to have imported a certain amount of muppetry with them. Came back via fish, chips and beer. I'm on call so I'm not supposed to have the beer, but lets say it's medicinal.

Welcome to the new month.

It still stinks. The weekend has frankly been pants, I have made many genuine honest attempts to engage with the human race and actually socialize, they've all gone to crap, so I'm currently bouncing off the walls. I'd say I was a little edgy, but I don't think that's fair to say. Just a bit cross that things haven't worked and I'm still exiled to my own company. Used to believe I was a natural loner, now I see I was just believing my own propaganda.

Never mind anyway. Not a bad day in funville, a cushy one no less. A colleague from over the water came down, and I got to spend the day playing with the radiation toys, lots of very expensive kit for dealing with things the government say are really rather important. No names, no pack drill, nudge nudge wink wink say no more say no more. Which mainly involves doing not a great deal for a long while, then going back for tea, cake and medals. And today, there actually was cake... H had brought in a home made rum chocolate extravaganza to die for, and possibly of, as it weighed in at about nine hundred calories a bite. Hurrah for cake.

Strolled off to a pub for lunch... cooking was not the idea of the afternoon that appealed. Well, all day carvery seems to appeal to the folks around here. The Jug and Bottle was so crowded, the line for the carvery reached the whole length of the pub. Positively claustrophobic. No good at all, so I gave it up as a bad job and went to the Hainton instead. Still very busy, but at least you could breathe, duly got a pint an enormous plate of meat, and went off to stuff myself so I wouldn't need to eat for the rest of the day, wooo! Massive downloading binge this afternoon. Of all the bands in the world it was a Slade track I heard for the first time on Radio 2 a week or two back that I really, really like and had to find, which started the current splurge. Those that know me know that I can like my music introspective, this ticks the box, dates back from when I was three. Oooops....!

How does it feel runnin' around round round
How does it feel watchin' from upside down
'cos many years from now there will be new sensations
And new temptations
How does it feel

How does it feel right at the start
And how does it feel when you are thrown apart
'cos many years from now there will be new elations
And new frustrations
How does it feel?

Do you know know know what it's like to be searchin' in your own time
All your attempting experimenting all on the climb
Do you know know know what it's like to be searchin' and suddenly find
All your illusion, all your confusion all left behind

How does it feel turnin' away
And how does it feel facing another day
'cos many years from now there will be newer poisons
And new horizons

Do you know know know what it's like to be searchin' in your own time
All your attempting experimenting all on the climb
Do you know know know what it's like to be searchin' and suddenly find
All your illusion, all your confusion all left behind

'cos many years from now there will be new tomorrows
And still some sorrows
How does it feel?