Creed of my silent suffocation

Insomnia cured it would seem.

T'was a strange one last night, we came in to work earlier at nine... all kinds of fun and games at the Factory of Fun. On top of our team rehash, they who sit in heaven and hold the strings have decided it's time for a complete rehash of team leaders functionalities, the results appear somewhat bizarre to say the least. Most upsetting is that one of our very senior and experienced blokes is being upended and shoved down into the office purgatory that I've recently escaped myself. The poor sod's not been in the best of health; the little tin gods probably think they're doing him a favour. What they'll likely do is finish him off. It's very IT based down there, he's happier with a spanner and sorting out stroppy people to the point of minimal grief. He's very good at it, been doing it thirty years. It's corporate cruelty; of course I have an interest myself, was supposed to be going onto his team in April and I was looking forward to working with the guy. What will now happen is that I'll get ANOTHER temporary leader who will not be skilled up in developing my career, acting up into their grade, until Captain Chaos comes back from his detached duty, upon which my life of peace is over forever. Deep joy. Thank you, tin gods.

My current boss was not a happy man. Not least the fact that the central work-chucking-at-us machine had once again put out nothing to justify us being there, but the little tin gods had requested that my mob up sticks and go over the water to the port on the other side, about a forty mile drive. Now, we don't much get on with them, it's a local rivalry thing... although we're bigger and have more to do, they're shinier, have sexier things to do and have the little tin gods living with them, so they have all the budgets, toys and facilities. They couldn't be arsed to put on a night watch, and decided to come up with a scheme, and to put no fine a point on it, wanted us to deploy over there three quarters of the way through the shift, after a quiet one, and expect us to be fresh. Unfortunately, our king of kings didn't have the balls to tell them to get knotted.

So, thus I found myself driving two sleeping guys, and my team's Miss Positive, who was no longer at all positive, or even at all alert over the bridge at half three in the morning, predicting with quite a lot of experience of these things... being the only one who's worked in a container port myself... that the very strong winds we were experiencing on the roads would delay the ship, and even stop it unloading completely, thus rendering our deployment an absolute waste of time. Damn, I hate to be right. So just for once, I was the most alert and enthusiastic one on the team; their morale was right down, and somebody had to look positive and interested, if only for reasons of inter-station politics, so that'll be me then. As it turned out, I knew two out of the three local guys that turned out well, even did my basic training with one of them years ago at Wybother Centre, so that helped things. And of course it WAS a complete waste of time; we turned out to the appointed places at the appointed hour, the ship WAS delayed by the wind, it didn't commence working until half an hour before we were scheduled to leave, and our replacements from the local staff were late in turning up as nobody had told them they were going to be needed and they weren't briefed. It's the height of rudeness in our trade to be late relieving the night watch - that was drilled into me when I started shifts, ten years ago - especially considering we'd been on longer than usual, and it wasn't even our station. Complete lash up. Drove back with Miss Positive for once spitting nails.

Me, once back at the FF, picked up an enormous Breaksfast in Bun sandwich and just headed home. Crawled into me pit, the boy Mr G wanted to play "combat" with the mysterious moving objects under the duvet... my feet... so obliged him for a while with a little scrap. Ever so relaxing. Hey, dog people, THIS is why we have cats.

Slept like a log.

Was going to go to Coningsby this afternoon, but was in me pit til late; and frankly the weather's still manky. So, no hairyplane photography for me. Rather, overdue chores, which mean the kitchen's a damned sight nicer that it was. Had a mate come over for coffee, and have been discussing decorating. How OLD am I lol? It used to be panzer battles and booze ups, now it's coving !

Insomnia

Ah, night shifts. Was worryingly awake through the entirety of it yesterday; the gods of the business decreed we had none to do, so we did makework patrols, I got lumbered with Team Pup. Now, he's one of those guys who gets more hyperactive as he gets more tired, so he was extra 'specially bouncy and in the face of everybody in the world last night. And I was sat directly behind him in the crew bus. What I would have liked to have done with one length of steel wire isn't anybody's business. What IS the penalty for garotting your colleagues anyway? In his case, I suspect a medal and promotion.

I don't quite understand why I was so perky last night, the two hours "head down" but without proper sleep certainly shouldn't account for it. I think I've got things on my mind. This morning's attempt at sleep might as well not have been there; I'm keeping myself going with my patent "Fortress Shadey Instant Artery Death Breakfast" - actually very healthy, but the veggies wouldn't agree - tea, and things to do. I'll be loading up the ever present workbag shortly with ginseng tablets, maybe some of that horrid ginseng tea that FLoH once convinced me it was a good idea to buy (more woman revenge) and anything I can think of to counter the predicted mid shift slump that's not pure caffiene or Red Bull; not slipping back into those habits again.

Nothing social planned in the meantime. I shall fill the day with chores.

What chores?

Large malt whiskey please, thanks for offering.

Heaven

"I knocked on the pearly gates, neatly side-stepping the long queue

Waved hi to St. Peter who checked my card and let me through

I smiled, Threw my hands in the air,

Laughed,

And got arrested.

They said "Hey man, you're in the wrong place

You behaviour is a disgrace

Here we pray every hour, on the hour, read extracts from the Bible and look solemn"

"What" says I, "No party? No party? Let me out!"

Let me out of Heaven, I got it wrong no I can't stay here

No laughing in Heaven, Let me out, I just can't stay here "

Rubbish

Is all I can say about the international Rugby. I actually drank guinness because it was the nearest thing to beer they had in the bar that was showing the match, and that's how they thank me? The bastards. England were rubbish. Period. Getting rolled over by the Irish, it's just not heard of.

Anyway, it's a bit of a quiet one. Was out with a mate in Lincoln last night, so that was noisy, but back here in CodTown naff all's happening. Don't much like that. Had a couple of small beers in Swigs, a cocktail in The Barge, a glass of wine but the local contacts ain't about and it's a little too dead. So speaking of which, I'm going to crack another bottle and spend the remainder of my evening watching my big box set of Das Boot, in memory of Lothar-Guenther Buchheim who died yesterday.... heart got him, where hundreds of British depth charges failed.

Oh and for those that follow the doings of the black hairy handsome one, he's gotten another bird. And I trod on the corpse. Which reminds me, must order a pizza to go with my movie.

Bled in Grimsby

In honour of foreign holidays, I thought I'd try a Slovene style breakfast today. Well, actually the Slovene's wouldn't dream of eating this sort of thing for breakfast, but a healthy meat eating nation like that might like to consider moving their dinner time habits to the other end of the day once they too inhabit the wonderland that is Planet Bloke. Attempted to make up big burgers in the way the do at the Riki in July, and didn't do a bad job in fairness. Two of the big bastards, plus a couple of butcher's sausages and I'm all set for the day and I can feel my arteries constricting in shock already.

Of course, the method for my madness was that the prime butchers mince I've had out of the freezer for a few was on the turn, so I'll probably be out of action with the screaming ab-dab's for the rest of the week, but hey, it makes me get off my arse and play in the kitchen so it can't be a bad thing. Even if it does put be down on my arse... ahem. Yeah. Next on the experimentation list are rhubarb pie and deep fried mozarella, the ingredients for which are lurking in my fridge, scaring the semi-skimmed. Heh, I AM the Doktor Mengele of foodstuffs.

Hello Spambots

Found my blog have ya? Fortunately I don't get bored with rejecting your comments, and I'm especially not going to install Firefox now. Sod off. If I wanted Firefox I'd get the DVD of the 1982 Clint Eastwood film of that name, shite though it was.

I've got a great new game for after work. It's called easy food and a drinky. I've just had an enormous meat pie and a bottle and a half of red wine. It's working for me! And Gizmo's got a new game, he's worked out the "drag yourself around your scratch pole on your back in very small, fast circles whilst on your back game. He seems a tad confused tonight. If I were reading the signs right, I believe he's let another mouse go in the place and is desparate to catch it.

Work itself was less than groovy. We had a wonderful team experience, but that was mainly due to the fact that there wasn't any work to do. They've centralised a very large part of the selection work away from us; leaving our local selection people ... frankly a little low in the cage. As usual with our place, they do things with the best of intentions and just muck everything up in the process, and destroy what morale we thought we had left. Never mind. At least this time, it's not my bunch that have been mindf*cked, but we're feeling the pinch in the less productivity from the selectors and they're effecting everyone. You'll have to forgive me, I know what I'm trying to say, but it's late, I'm tired and wine's a factor here. Hey. The bosses have screwed it up again. That'll do.

Fear of clowns

Looks like a perfectly healthy response to me....

Engineering

Cross posted from another place, courtesy of "Wicked Uncle Nigel"

"From the days when men were men, Big F*cking Hammers were Big F*cking Hammers, and Health & Safety reps would have been twatted with one if they'd got in the way"

Kerching

Well, I find myself potentially with an unexpected lifeline out of the financial mire that I'm in at the moment, which is nice. Very useful indeed actually. Not that I've been especially spendthrift or careless this month; I haven't. It's just the "Christine" related repair bills have been ludicrous and many and frequent. If it weren't for the fact that a new car'd actually be more expensive in the short term, she'd be ingots by now. Speaking of doing terrible things to cars, I don't suppose anybody's taped last Sunday's Top Gear? Missed the repeat, and everyone's saying I badly need to see the Robin Reliant space shuttle...

Oh, and suprisingly, it seems Grimsby foxes do like burnt garlic. Went out yesterday to retreive and dispose of the remnants of Tueday morning's, erm, fire incident to discover nothing there at all. Not even crumbs. Groovy. That'll sort the buggers out, one less to bother the chickens.

Please god/buddha/allah/shiva/insert your deity of choice here, don't let it be so...

"Ohhhhhhh noooooooo" Clicky linky

Mmmmmmmm, trailers.......

CLICKY Simpson Movie Trailers CLICKY

Flames

Out in the dark doing nefarious things and not home til late, late, late. "Intercept driver" sounds wonderful and very Mad Max'y, doesn't really equate to driving around a diesel Rover 400, that traditional government pool car battlebus with a bunch of hairy's in the back... one thing about adrenaline, the old tunnel vision effect kicks in even while driving and I NEED the navigator to tell me where to go, coz my perception on top of the gig goes right to crap - sensory overload, every lane is the one I have to get into whether it is or not, every brake and turn is make'able. Anyway, dark deeds done, results taken, all went pretty ok, nobody hurt, especially me. Back to base for tea, medals and bed.

Back home for a spot of supper, whacked the emergency special ASDA half bagguette/cheese/garlic butter combo (which isn't actually a bagguette, more like half a ciabatta, but how are the ASDA classes supposed to know that) under the grill and went to sit down. A couple of minutes later, the smell quickly goes from nothing to cooking to acrid in seconds, I wander through to see what the score is to find not only a light, plentiful smoke, but full blown flames coming in droves from the top of my supper. That'll be the garlic butter then. Oven glove's in the laundry (forgot about that, doh), so I rely on the expidient of opening the kitchen window and just ditching my supper out of that into the garden for the foxes to feast on. I hope burnt garlic gives them the shits. The last time this happened (1999, Ipswich) I at least had the decency to be drunk and with female company at the time. On your own and sober is just lazy.

Anyway, finished up with the remnants of a bottle of extremely average champagne I started for the want of anything beer like on Sunday. At least breakfast went better. Had the last of my eggs from Miss J's mum's chicken run, and in a gratuatous but completely honest and justified plug, never had egg's like 'em. You can keep you supermarket "free range". The flavor's fuller and fresher, the egg itself is just eggier and nicer and seems to work better, and the shell's a lovely work of art that it's almost... no, it is... a shame to crack it and use the contents. Anyway. this has been a party political broadcast on behalf of "Shadey encourages you to find and support your local suppliers (even if you do have to drive 150 miles to see 'em!) and put bloody Walmart out of business".

The problem with extending shifts on lates is that it gives you no time to do any household stuff in the morning. Just had time to have brekkie and clear up from that, a quick blog entry and it's time to get away for more of the same. Without the excitement please. One quiet day would be useful.

The making of beer dumps

Gawd, Friday's fun and games... went out with a mate from work, don't normally socialise with worky types on a matter of principle but it struck me that maybe I aught to get my head out of my arse and act like an ordinary human being for once. Nice night actually, a first time appearance in this blog for Big Gay Kenny (hello, super to see you), and we shouted Mags out for the evening as well as she's at home at the moment from her vocational travels and in need of beer. Not as much as us of course as she's a laydeee, but a good group. A nice night, except I made the mistake of smoking the last of my ginormous fat log cigars from a while back, and I think it may have peaked... left me feeling very spaced out for a while. Not nice at all. So I think I'll cut those out of my lifestyle for a while, if not forever. Healthy mixture of black Vodka (finished off that evil stuff), beer, Belgian fruit beer and red wine guaranteed a vile morning and opended windows in the bathroom.

And work was reasonably ok as well... Friday was new toys day. Always a good thing, free stuff. An overdue issue of personal tools, and the new warrant card wallets arrived. They're already universally despised, with cries of "rusty sherrif's badge" and "choccie box lid" ringing around the building for the new and shiney multicoloured metal badge on the wallet. We used to have a PROPER logo on our badges, not any more. Hey ho, everything changes and not always for the better. Not so critical of the tools selected - good shite -, the only thing I wasn't happy about was they've stopped issuing the big box of Snap On ratchet screwdrivers and bits we used to get, for cost reasons - in fairness they WERE bloody expensive - and because there should be one set in each of the go-busses. Of course there aren't always, but I've still got the ratchet I snaffled before I left Fxt, so if I can snaffle a new box of bits, then we're cooking with gas. Just to prove what a good egg our support office lass is, she arranged for me to get issued with the old style leather tool holster and belt for all my ill gotten gains, rather than the new sythnetic rubbish one that's issued... she understand that not only do us old types prefer this kind, but they wear well, and old kit like that inparts a certain credibility that folks of our level appreciate. That's knowing your guys!

On top of all the new shite, they've unveiled the new team structure that's been rumbling around for a while, naming the names so I'm now officially aware of my future, suprisingly I have one. Unfortunately, my team's puppy is being posted away from me, which is a shame. He's young, inexperienced, massively gung ho, and over keen. But things tend to happen while he's about, it's been a good balance. My instinct for getting out of trouble balanced his for getting into it, pretty happy medium. I'll miss him.

So this old internet thing... was talking to someone on line a day or so back, who's back in my home town. Nothing going on, you understand, just a conversation for a bored chappy away from home. But how queer is this? How small is this world? Turns out her ex husband is the brother of a lass I dated when I was 18, and he remembered my name? How damned small is this world?

I want this bloke's job

CLICKY HERE!!

Drivin' Mr Lazy

So the time comes to point the devil possessed Christine slightly northwards, to do a small niceness for Miss Biro J, time to time guest star of this little bloggette. Now here's a weird thing. For three weeks or so the left hand lights not been working, waiting for me to get my arse in gear and get over to Halfords to spend money on something that's not fun, to replace it. Yeah, right. Tonight, it's working fine. We'll call that intermittent electrical fault then.

Anyways up, the journey. Got as far as Immingham to find myself filtered entirely off the main A180. "Hmmm", I thought, "that can't be right" and turned around to go back to the main road. Nope, filtered from there too. They've shut the entire west carriageway, and set up the teeniest signed diversion on the face of the planet through all the woozey little villages in between. Joy. I get stuck behind an outsize load trailer, carrying an enormous quanity of preformed bulk concrete parts and begin to swear. This rotten sod can't go more than about 15 in the sticks, and there's no way around him, blind bend after blind bend. Fuming a bit at this. No notification, no proper signing so it can be avoided. That's Lincolnshire. It's the best argument for the return of handguns to the country. I feel strongly that as I finally get the heart attack I've been working for all these years; as the iron vice grabs my chest, I'll draw a Smith & Wesson and kneecap the bastard that's driven me to it, thus the champ bows out undefeated.

Valentines Day massacre. Of wallets.

Heh, they're there to be seen. All day. Stressed looking blokes on the thirteenth of Feb, in Asda with a bucket of flowers. The odd one wandering towards the underwear section of George to buy themselves, oooops, I mean her a present. I'm wearing a grin, coz I don't have to subscribe to it at all. Every shop everywhere is full of mush, and I don't have to play. Wooooo! I can sit in the comfort of my own predudices and snipe merrilly at the whole damned thing. Of course we all know that it's all really because not one cowbag has sent me a card. Grrrrr, it's enough to send you gay. But not quite. Having said that, I do genuinely enjoy watching the poor fools stress. It's a marketting stroke of genius. Emotional blackmail acceptable as the norm. The one day a year you can show your lass how much you love her. What about the other three hundred and sixty four, dickhead?

Sometimes I wish I could show you blokes where I work, or openly admit what I do. I certainly wish I could tell you what I walked into the middle of yesterday, cause if it's kosher then it's got sercurity issues and if it's not, look out for the biggest investigation since Matrix Churchill. Good fun though, instantly recognised the things for what they were and set the wheels in motion. The place isn't surrounded by special branch yet, so I assume it's all alright lol!

Been sailin'

Cooo, where've we been in the last few days? Been mucking about with boats again, that's where. Bloody big ones that is. Boats, that is. Wash your mind out.

Six AM, Friday morning, found myself bundled up with a whole bunch of guys, local and brigaded from elsewhere to go on board a ship in a harbour not far away from where we're at. Blagged a spot on the first boarding party, sorting out the initial formalities; thus knocking a hole in the training gap and watching one of the bosses make an arse of it. Had been teamed up with a couple of the older guys for once, whom I know are good at their trade, so for once I had a good day, felt I got lots from it. A couple of days of working sillibuggers at the weekend; been feeling pretty run down and sleeping not much in the last few days and it bit today... to my embarrassment, overslept and was an hour late for work. Minimal ribbing and the boss was ok, but I was not happy - not a bad thing though coz for once it seems to have motivated me to get my arse in gear and take the day by the balls. One minor detection, working with a bunch of blokes from other agencies, a day recovered from the shit.

SO... how does one manage to lose one's last hoover bag? I've got house that's well beyond the limit for condemnation by the war crimes tribuneral, I know for a fact that the cleaner's got one bag left, I saw it just the other day. And can I find it? Can I hell. Bloody typical.

Gone, gone, gone

Rather belatedly.

Ian Richardson. Actor of quality. Dead too soon. But am I the only person who never got off on "House of Cards"? Brilliant, yes but it was all a little too like reality for my taste at the time; I always needed the escape from that stuff, the quality of the production made me want to go nowhere NEAR the show; I don't gape at train wrecks, I don't like horror films and I don't want to look at monsters. But what a CV for the rest of his stuff... loved Gormenghast, Porterhouse Blue, Dark City, ironically voicing DEATH in Hogfather and as someone said on AICN today, if the BBC had ever brought The Master back to Doctor Who, I think he'd have been a natural for the role. But for me his standout role was as the traitor Hayden opposing my all time fav' character, Smiley in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy... aesthetic, sexually ambigous, ruthless, genius, arrogant in his intellect and above all a likeable upper class rogue. One of the rare multipart drama's I'll watch repeatedly for the performances alone. Damn shame he's gone.

Anna Nicole Smith. "Actress" of somewhat less quality. Might suprise a few folks that I actually felt sorry for her. If nothing else, she highlighted the truth about the American media machine... take what we want, your youth, beauty, plastic breasts... now we'll show you up as a screwhead and eat you alive. Lets face it, her recent history wasn't good. Probability of post-natal depression; plus three separate tossers claiming paternity of the child; plus continued legal hassle over the somewhat unusual marriage; plus the fact that her twenty year old son dropped dead visiting his infant sister a month or so back; plus a Monroe obsession.... Don't have to be Perry Mason to figure she chucked it in. Thing is, that was a real woman, not a cartoon. By all accounts, she wasn't any brighter than you or me... quite a lot dumber in fact, and that's a lot of crap to be in. If there's such a thing as afterlife, I hope she's getting some peace.

Freezypops

Christine's back on the road, and damn, am I glad. Something's not quite right with her, the engine's not quite as it should be but it'll do enough to keep the bitch going a while longer, before she gets traded in for something worthwhile like a supermarket trolley, for instance. This week hasn't been bike riding weather at all, too and from work yesterday made me glad it was only ten miles each way, and it's been severely debilitating on the longer trips. Made a trip north on Monday evening and back again Tueday, stopping at the wonderful relaxing home of Ms J for wine by the bucketload - if you're not bikey people you'll have to take my word for this, but at the end of a two hour run in temparatures of around freezing, my fingers were blocks of agony; I could feel my decision making, my hand to eye co-ordination, my vision playing up and dulling; and to make things worse the bike was misfiring due to the cold. Worth it though. More of the same coming back via North Yorkshire; stopped for supplies at the farm shop near Thirsk, and stopped in Knaresborough to replace a glass I'd once bought there and broken. Knaresborough's one of my favorite places, for some reason this time it didn't feel at all like friendly territory. Maybe I need to book a room and have a bender at Blind Jacks, one of the best boozeholes in that wonderful part of the world. That'd be nice. Then again, maybe the magic's dead. I hope not. Ran back through Hull to pick up my Ipod from the Ipod fixers, was most annoyed to discover that the bloody part timers go home at half four... quarter to five didn't seem to be an unreasonable time to expect service from a business, I resent the bridge toll those b*stards have cost me. More freezing yesterday for the daily commute, more protest from the engine that doesn't like that time of year at all, back home to discover that my horrible hellbound bitch of a car is alive and well'ish again, and at last I can put the bike under cover and commence fixing it up.

Anyway, what's going on in my world tonight? Not much. Just been on my much delayed Diversity course, so I am now fully qualified to insult all genders, sexualities, ethnic groupings and religions. Typical of this government, the advise they give you is directly contradictory and you cannot possibly adhere to it; what we are expected to put out with diversity in mind works against the principles of equal opportunities and just expecting to do a half decent job. Don't get me started on how multiculuralism is a politically driven utopian deal that was never going to work, with no Plan B attached. So bollocks to it all. Didn't get done in time to get to Hull to collect the errant Ipod, so having a small tidy up instead. Just taken and binned an incredible amount of up Northern business cards and flyers pinned up in the kitchen cupboard for restaurants, hairdressers, taxi firms that I'll never use again. That's never a fun job.

Anyway, I' m off to go a little ga-ga. Here's what today's horriblescope says. "You are subject to your own changing moods even more than usual as they pull you into strange and unfamiliar territory. Usually you are quite at home in the shadows of your mind, but today it can be difficult for you to maintain perspective. Instead of struggling, give yourself permission to slip off the map for a while. You'll come back refreshed from your little trip."

Yeah right.

A supplies run is required, then a beer, then early to bed. Got bugger all sleep last night and am frankly feeling the effects more than a little. You can tell, can't you....

One for the racists

Well, this'll make you feel better... there's two of the so-called illegal immigrants that aren't going to be costing us a lot, coz I found 'em before they could get out of their lorry today. From time to time on inspection, come across lorry's that have been cut for access/exit. Invariably empty as the human cargo has already bugged out and is legging it up the motorway. Was just about to let loose with my standard jokey "come out come out where-ever you are" upon finding another one this morning, how suprised was I to see eyes looking back at me. Turned out to be two guys, Afghan, and unfortunately for them I was in "full on evil looking" mode; mirrored sunglasses, three days growth of beard, works beany hat, tool belt that wouldn't disgrace an armed response officer and my scowl. Anyways up, as they failed to mention the magic "A" word, Immigration say they'll probably be out of the country this evening. So, all things being equal, I'll look to pick 'em up again in the docks in about two days time....

Brown

Y'know what? It strikes me from last nights pubbing that a buy one, get one free offer is really not a very good idea at all when the subject of said offer is Newcastle Brown Ale. Call me a boring old fart if you like, but that stuff is dangerous. That way lies trouble.

Mad Milage

Heyup folks, miss me? Well, I never made it as far as Ipswich, but I've covered some serious territory since I last sat down and faced this screen. Seems to have been a rare spurt of energy, been social all over Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, and I'm about to scoot off to remote parts far north. And why not. It's not as if I especially fancy another big bunch of time off with nothing to do. And many things have been sorted domestically, repaired or arranged too in that time, which is good. All in all, a quite energised time. And an incredible amount of beer and wine drunk too. Yay! Work's a distant memory at the moment. We'll see how different things look on Wednesday when I go back in for yet more entertainment.

Went over to Newark yesterday to have a pootle around the museum there; many good things, and a couple of small investments made in the bookshop. In fact, could have made many not so small investments and withdrew scared. The bike was a bit snorty and snottly yesterday, I feel there was a little bit of icing of the carb's going on, an achilles heel of Kawasaki's everywhere. Having said that, when Christine's back on the road (Engine's working but the window's still missing) I shall have the tank off Milo the MileEater and have a grummage about in the engine to check out plugs, air filters, oil etc. It'll do no harm, and it's not as if the poor sod hasn't been pushed into emergency service at the worst time of the year for bikes. He's absolutely filthy at the moment with road grime, coal dust from the docks and his numberplate is held together with bodge tape. The new one's just arrived by post today, I'll drill it and fit it tomorrow when we have a general all round cleaning session going on. He'll be sparkly and lovely again by teatime.

And speaking of sparkly and lovely, spare a moment please for the Beautiful South. Jacking it in after nineteen years, the shifty cheeky funsters are. It's a shame, but you can't say they didn't put out an enormous amount of quality gear in that time, coz frankly they did. And I did get to see them before they went, twice in one weekend in fact, last July at Castle Howard and again at V Festival. So I've got no real complaints, but I will miss 'em anyway.

More scabbing, plans flushed and whoops, no work to do

Well, seem to have managed to have been a strikebreaking blackleg without getting my bike trashed, my locker filled with turds or my life otherwise messed with. Mind you, the general feeling amongst the other union types that worked was one of guilt, and of not being sure we were doing the right thing. I think we'll have a few resignations from the union after this, maybe myself included to ease consciences. Nice to know there's still a moral or two around the place. We eased ourselves further by actually catching a proper crim' for a change on the late flight, would have been a shame if he'd have gone through on the nod if we'd not have been there. Mind you... the bike's covered in shite, but that's just a result of taking it on the dock... it's liberally covered in coal dust, made wet by the water they spray on the roads to stop it blowing everywhere. And I can't get to the jetwasher 'cause bloody Christine's still blocking the driveway. Grrrrrrrrr!!!!

Today seems to have gone a little pear shaped. I was supposed to be in London about now, at a presentation my old mate and shooting mentor is giving at the National Army Museum; haven't seen him in a couple of years since I moved up here. But with not getting home from work til midnight, being tired, and having to pack things for the morning, although I woke early, there was no way I was fit to ride, and by the time I was, it was too late to leave. Bugger. Anyway, I'm given to understand he'll be doing more and I'll get down for one of those, but this was a trip I was looking forward to for ages, I'm a little peeved that work, tiredness and crapness have conspired and knackered me. But in a gratuatous plug, here's his book, buy it, it's great*.

The good news is, I've checked with the boss and he says I can take the days as time off anyway - I'm well up on my hours for the year, so I can afford to lose a few. Which means, with scheduled rest days as well, I've got a big chunk of nothing to do. Which is nice. I'm tempted to have a little journeying. Was going to have some beers with Ipswich people when I'd finished in London, so I might well go and do that anyway. Only problem will be finding somewhere to watch the international rugby down there... a bit of a football town, that one. I don't mind getting a bunch of takeout ales from the pub and watching it at a mates, but I'd really prefer not to, not a lot of atmosphere. Unless you buy Adnams Broadside and eat steak, then you've got atmosphere you can cut with a knife... just for god's sake don't try to breathe it.

On top of that bit of potential happy travel good news thing, went to the quack's yesterday and he's cleared me to go back to the gym, which is nice. He's put me back on the meds I was on in December though, which is cobblers... "here, have a month of tablets to attempt to prove/disprove a theory someone's had, rather than us doing anything more dynamic to work out what or otherwise you've got wrong with you". And following current trendy practise, he's more interested in the fact that my cholesterol's up (it always has been, my diet's mega healthy) than the fact that my lungs are playing sillibuggers. But farting about aside, the good news is I can get back at the treadmill and weights and stop being a lardy wee fecker for a bit. Joy ! ! !

* - actually, it is!

A little "oops" from my old stomping ground

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