Make somebody's day

Ah, the joys of news feed to my desk. Was sitting there - one, two days ago, who knows - texting my friend in the Sedgefield constituency to confirm what was only rumour to her, that they'd be needing a new MP up there as Captain Grin had decided that what with running around the Middle East that he's going to be doing, he couldn't spend any time up there... like he ever had anyway. I spend so much time dishing out bad news to folks, it makes a nice change to send something that's going to make someone smile. I wonder what the price on his head is going to be out east. I wonder what price William Hill's will give me against him not seeing out the year.

Speaking of which, and jumping slightly up to date, I see the purveyors of things that go bang have attempted to mark Mr Brooon's* ascendancy to the throne with a couple of suitable fireworks in central London. A good job the Irish weren't behind it, or they'd be scraping the city centre population off the buildings as we speak. As it is, the reports indicate the perp's used the ever popular and discrete "nervously park your bombed car really badly and leg it in a really conspicous manner" before demonstrating that as potent as Improvised Explosive Devices can be (and this one was really rather nasty), it's all for naught if you don't know how to make the fuse go bang. And speaking futher of bangs, I see our new Security Tzar (how long before the tabloid's start calling him that...? Do I get first copyrite?) knows a thing or two about things that go bang. He's the Admiral that when serving down south as a Commander in 1982 had the frigate Ardent blown out from under him courtesy of the Argentine Air Force.

*Pending a decent nickname....

Indian Throwaway

I'm sitting here not best pleased, but then I don't think there's any way I COULD have gotten down to Waddington to watch the lead transport aircraft for tomorrow's Indian Airforce deployment arrive... expected at 1215; actually arrived at 1128 so even when I was looking at the clock at 1100, wondering if a fast drive might seal it, it would have been impossible. Local commitments and all that. Still bloody annoying though. Been looking forward to arrival all week... was supposed to be two transports and six fighters arriving today. The fighters and second transport are put off 'til tomorrow, and damn my luck, I've got a retirement party at work to go to; on my day off too. The bastards. Damn, damn, damn. This is going to take some weasle'ing to fit in. Damn.

On the grin front; a shout out to Miss J of parts northern.... there's a rumour that you might be having to find a new MP soon! Yay, eh !!!

Bugger me, they broke me desk !!!!

Well, that's a day and no mistake. I've done one hours work, two and a half hours bouncing about and then splashing about, a very long journey home and a lot of time drinking beer and watching telly.

You've seen the news, the country drowned and even MY works flooded! We chuckled a bit when we saw darkening around the fire door, less when we saw water being to reach the equipment room and the central filing room which has been susceptible to minor flooding before, and the boss had to leap around like a mad bastard (which was funny, coz he can't) to get a copy of the business continuity plan when they finally worked out that the weather meant business. Lots of my strongman act, lifting all the filing cabinets off the ground level; my god - the lock pit was nearly overflowing by the time we quit. Of course, there's the obvious electrical hazard; we identified that the power needed turning off quite early into this but of course, nobody made a decision, and the boss was still on the phone to the landlords to clarify a position when we ran for it. That's hierarchy for you. Me, I just do things and get in trouble, or not. I think the whole thing was cocked. We've had minor floods before, yet no sandbags, no store of sand; hell, they'd even thrown out the stored bags of shredded paper the week before. Pathetic.

Of course, when we actually left the building, we stepped into a wet, force eight hell. A bit special, that storm. Boots and trousers overwhelmed as the outer parts of the building and the car park were well under. Convoyed back with a colleague to ensure safe arrival for all, the rat run home had to be taken as the main road was best avoided, crashes, rubberneckers. The trip from hell. Gridlocked in one spot for about an hour before I got across the problem, which turned out to be overwhelmed drains; between two and three feet of water, the car made it.... although driving against a bow wave when the engine would really benefit from a schnorkel is new to me. Was thinkink that GLC deserved renaming.... S/S Vectra wouldn't be appropriate as it's not a steam ship; technically M/V Vectra would have been appropriate as it's a motor vessel, but then I aught to avoid M/F (ferry) Vectra, asssuming that everyone'd think my car's a motherf*cker...... Maybe I should just leave it as it is.

Anyhooo... got home safe, home's not flooded, cat's not drowned, and life is very weird at the moment ! I wonder what tomorrow brings? Or today as the case is now..... I predict case upon case of WD40 and the equipment room's remains...

Faith and ale

OK, faith's a very personal thing; I haven't got much of one (I trust in the law, my tempered steel handcuffs, Bridgestone tyres and my own paranoia) but other people do and I respect that. Doesn't excuse me from finding it a bit weird sometimes though.

My cuz's wedding on Saturday. Last of the girls to be married off, a good egg marrying a good egg. I like the fella.... see my previous posts for my reliance on my gut feelings, and the rarity of instantly liking people on the first meet.... the difference is that that side of the family are evangelical, and very much so. Erm, I'm not. Very much so. I respect their position, they mine and all is groovy in the garden. Anyway, an early start, NOT with a raging hangover, honest officer, and a good early arrival in Suffolk. Got there an hour early (HA! to my mother who has the nerve to hassle me about my timekeeping, where do I get it from in the first place) .... the day's comedy moment came early on from my stepfather who's not really prone to making me laugh, but prone to verbal gaffes, this time while wearing a very Chinese black silk jacket in a very happy clappy congregation....

"Nice jacket Dave, Chinese?"

*loudly* "Yes, Buddhist you know. Better than all this Christian guff"

(grins, thumbs up... wish I'd have had my camera pointing that way, it was the "Buddy Christ" pose a' la "Dogma" if ever I saw one)

Hells bells. The Eagle gets off a good one. So, like I said, I'm not going to 'dis another person's way of doing things here. They're family, I love 'em and if it's good for them, that's ok. Not my cup of tea though.

Anyway's up, finished at the church eventually, once the photographer got what he wanted (which took for bloody ever 'coz he was dodging rain showers), and escaped off to the reception at a converted barn complex - more signs of the agricultural mob having to diversify to survive....

Took a small diversion on the way to my very own small spiritual journey; up to the church at Wantisden, and it ain't spiritual! It's where I used to watch the A-10's land at Bentwaters, when that base was more than a fast car test track, pre-'93. My god, was it really '93? Yes it was. Yikes. Did I really reverse a quarter of a mile down that tiny track just after I started driving, after that bloke blocked it by lobbing his car on it's roof speeding up it to catch a Myrtle Beach A-10? Yes, also. Mad days. Good though. Must go through those old photo's again.

Back to the wedding.... big barn affair thingy going just beyond the Butley Oyster, classic boozer I'd love to have had stopped for a pint again, but things to do, rellies to see. Hog roast, in fact they brought in the whole pig. Glad to see they killed it and cooked it first, otherwise that'd have been even weirder than it was. Very nice do; for nameplates it was names handwritten onto polished pebbles which was really cool. Speeches took a while, the disco fired up and it was at that point I had to sign the book of condole.... erm, congratulations, say cheerio to the bride, groom and all the rellies (HOW long does it take to get that done!!!) and scuttle out of the door into the rain, coz part 2 of the evening was calling....

WHAT is it with me that I have to cram a quart into a pint pot all the time? Ah, that'll be being too fat and too mean to buy new trousers. No, but seriously. Timekeeping. It's mad. The day my last girlycuz gets hitched, one of my best friends throws a house party. It's ALWAYS this way. You can set your watch buy it. There WILL be too much to do. I WILL give myself an ulcer balancing everything. It's the way of the world.

Anyways up. Saturday night, Southern Sophie, beer buddy of mine for about 18 years (OUCH, wish I hadn't have worked that out) had a belated housewarming, and I was stopping off at the Dove to pick up some bevvie for it. About a gallon in total of top notch real ale, then off to her address to be greeted by Andy, her somewhat addled other half; then got jumped upon by Ginger Chris and his excellent partner Sal; and a whole bunch of other really good mates of old; including one bloke I once couldn't stand and I'm rather glad to say has Immatured nicely; good how this stuff levels out. One of those parties where there's four barrels of the good stuff on the go, but they were getting a little raddled when I arrived so the reinforcements were welcome. No idea how much I had.... it was a proper beer glass with a handle and quaffing was the order of the day, and quaffing was done well. NB broke the booze ban that had been self imposed and had a good time; my old mate Miche was there but sober.... this meant that for the first time the unholy trio of Miche, Chris and I were together and one of us would be safe to drive. But not me. And not Chris either, he retired broken, or WAS retired by his good lady due to their earlier "I'll not thank you tonight but I'll probably thank you tomorrow" agreement... s'funny, every time he and I drink, he gets broken. Anybody'd think it was my fault....

Friday foibles

So where's it gone? The weekend that is?

Oh so busy.... up early, scuttled off out of the door, down the road to Coningsby again to attempt to get the Spanish Airforce's departure, and hopefully bag some nice Spanish Airforce Hercules transport planes to boot. Well, wasn't quite early enough. I missed the fighters leaving, but that's no biggy, as I'd seen them all earlier in the week; decided to hang around and bag the transports, but that made the timing of the rest of the day tighter than a tight thing that's been left in a boil wash; watched the local lads play with the shiney new Typhoons; I know it's a great plane, but quite frankly I am bored shitless with Typhoon's. Yes, they're wonderful, they're powerful, they're manouverable, the pilot's really know what they're doing and they're all 'round shiney and great. I'm just bored with them. I see them all the damned time. I want to see something else. Think I'll go up to Leeming and watch Tonka's instead. Anyhoo.... transport planes duly arrive. Shite! They're British! Turn up in their own transports, borrow ours for the trip home! Damn! What a waste of a morning! Quickly rumbled back into town; got the digital camera hoovered out and my hair cut in short order, then scuttled back to work as I'd had to scrub my planned lunch appointment. Damn!

The evening kicked off in controversial fashion as usual at the fun factory; another stupid shift extension alert at the start of the watch... a bit of an issue for me as I had NB and friends over in the evening and an ale was in the offing, but for once sense prevailed; the shift finished at ten, the action couldn't possibly start til half one and the reasoning was at best mediocre, so InsanoBoss for once err'd on the side of "let 'em go home". Which is good, because he's only just returned from convalescant leave, I'd hate to send him off on it again. I've had shifts where I've paid more attention to be honest; couldn't really say my heart and soul was on stepping on the oppressed, my phone was constantly receiving text's from old friends and good friends and frankly I've got my life a little better prioritised these days, which will please my boss not one bit, but then since when did I give a damn? Not lately anyway.

The evening grumps struck though; rushed home at the appointed hour, got turned around quickly and into a taxi; all the time messages coming in from Kev along the lines of "hmmmm, beer..."; "they've just called last orders"... to which a message was sent saying "get me beer, then!!" which he noticably failed to notice.

Hmmm, is that a language gag there? Could be. BUT ANYWAY.... turned up at the pub, time's been called and there's no good ale'y beer for me to drink coz my text wasn't noticed in time. Bah. Grump one. Off we trot to another that's got music, a later pub. No decent beer, only Newcastle Brown. Bah, only time for two of them before this pub too, closes.

Double bah. Double grump, I might as well have bloody driven. What a waste of a taxi fare. My face will curdle milk at fifty paces at this stage of the night as I'm surrounded by drunken cod people, only a small amount of horrid brown ale on my liver to comfort me; "no I don't want to go to that club where I had a run in with a w*nker last time; no, NONE of us want to go to the noisy crappy club bars on the Gaza Strip, do we". Sod it, I REALLY might as well have bloody well driven, a taxi, head for home, dvd's, remainder of my whiskey, "what do you mean, Mr Taxi Driver, that Willies bar is open til two am???"

The fog lifts, a late bar selling decent real ale is reached and within one pint of the good stuff, my smile is back. The evening is salvaged. Yay!! From hell to heaven in one move. One pint is not where I stop, several more are sent down to check on the progress of the first and jollification ensues. A fine gig poster is spotted that makes me chuckle.... for a non smoker I'm getting really quite loud in opposition to the smoking ban....

Many fine opportunities for people watching; the young guy who makes it to the bottom of the stairs and slumps into a pile - I was merely concerned and if I'm honest, fixated with trying to browbeat him to the bogs before he hurled on my shoes, but it seems he was slightly more badly broken than that, beyond the point where such options were open to him; in the end an ambulance was called for him. They've got special wheelchairs for drunk people, never seen taht before. And that rarest of things, a fight breaking out in an ale pub; or in this case, on the pavement outside it. Some fracas with a bunch of drunken youngsters bumping into people drinking on the patio and those people not liking it... when the whole pub (except us lazy ones) went out to watch, the youngsters did the discrection/valour calculation quite quickly, as it was uncertain if this sudden crowd were rubberneckers or reinforcements. A good job really 'as one of those transgressed against was attempting to remove one of the big steel posts that hold the pavement fence up from it's ropes, so add it to the argument. What is it with the British these days? Why do we adhere to the "instant arsehole, just add alcohol" stereotype? Am I a freak, being just a placid happy boozer? So it would seem. Excuse me while I have my forehead surgicaly lowered and foream extensions grafted on so I may fit in better with my race.

Damp

This is the weather forecast from the Lincolnshire met' office dated 1025 Greenwich meaning time.

They been oop on di' air ministry roof and it 'a pissin' it down wit' rain.

This am the end of the weather forecast.

***********************

Ah, the old'un's eh?

It's chucking it down here. There's flooding on the roads. I've been away. Did you miss me?

And not my kind of morning either

You know the kind where you're woken by the heat and humidity....? Knowing that you feel so tired you'll never get back to sleep again? And when the cat comes and does his morning dance on your chest to make sure you're alive, the claws actually hurt? Lots. And you're craving orange juice especially because you know there's none in the house, as you're running down stocks due to being away at the weekend? I hate those mornings. Guess what. Today's one. May be the fact that I had pizza before bed, or that I wasn't abed til gone one am, but I feel awful. And the day's funpacked, not much spare space here.

Just off to CBY to see if I can bag the Spanish deployment as they go home; that'd be a good thing. Somewhere along the line I need to get my camera hoovered, my hair cut, some basic provisions purchased as I've got guests tonight and a quick devotion at the temple of the saint of government officers; St Bastard of the Unreasonable; that he may let the evening shift go without interuption or extension... I have things to do. Of course he won't listen; he's even meaner than the god of Plane Spotters, and that's one vengeful god. Still haven't worked out how to appease THAT bastard after twenty plus years at the game.

Not my kind of day

The sort where it's not mine.

Morning commitments commandeered my plan to spend a nice relaxing day on the beach watching the air force bomb things; decided to leave for work early and drop in to the camera shop on the way to get my hoovering camera cleaned out of all the dust and crap that's afflicting the sensor... a good job, as when I started the car I realised the dashboard clock and my watch were fifteen minutes out of kilter and if I hadn't have left at this second; late for work I would have been and that's not good.

So then.... my morning lost totally, into funland for the late shift and to my horror I discover I'm to work with Fruit'.... two dents in the locker later, I readjust my attitude to a point where I can be in the van with her and not rip her head off. A close run thing though. As said before, a very nice lass but our personalities just do not click... she is one person who's able to push me into a foul unreasonable temper just by the act of being there, let alone opening her mouth. I've never known anyone with who I'm less compatible. Or maybe I just need a checkup from the neckup. A day of being busy for no practical reason ensued; while I had overdue admin things to do, the boss kept us out working for simple reasons of inactivity paranoia that is so prevalent amongst government managers these days.... nonsense. Just as I'm arranging a pint with NB on the way home, the jobsworths in the selection team in Dover find us something to do that involves extending the shift and going out in the downpour for something that's mediocre at best, but as centralising the selection process is senior management's defining moment of glory, nobody's got the balls to say it's a load of old wank and it'd have been better left alone. To top it, our own selection staff completely screwed up my target from yesterday. So, from the moment I got up, the only human being I talked to face to face that wasn't a colleague was the lady at the Pizza shop on the way home. That really isn't my kind of day.

Ideas that slip

Y'know, it strikes me that once, not long ago I had a marvellous plan as to how I was going to get out of this town, and further up north; because I DO loathe this place and a very large chunk of it's inhabitants. Had my sights firmly set on York or simla', and it all made sense, even financially. That plan seems to have somewhat gone adrift. Shame. Then again, re-reading old blogs I discover that by the timescale of last year, I should have had this place ready for sale two months ago. Well tough, I've been busy. The good news is, I've had a fairly good idea as to how to get the travel wired together to get me to Slov' later in the year. No idea what I'll do when I get there, but I need a bottle of Lascho by the lake. This is not a vague idea, this is a practical necessity or I'll be doing life without parole by November.

But in the meantime, back in harness. This I was dreading; counting the minutes, really not looking back to going back to the fun factory. Within twenty minutes of arrival, it was driving me up the wall. Fruitloop's back from secondment; still totally harmless, still totally maddening. But a day spent with a couple of our grumpy old men (what do you mean it was three) pretty much put me back on track.

Spanish Fly'ing

Well, I've spent the days off up at the local base taking piccy'toons of the visiting Spanish Airforce Eurofighters, having a play with the local boys. Very pretty they are too. Slightly darker grey than the locals, but a very nice piece of kit. Some unhappiness caused upon my return in discovering that my digital camera's clearly been designed by the same guys that did my vacuum cleaner since all the dust in the world has been sucked into the optical sensor and ruined all my shots; although they're fixable with a capable picture wrangler, that's just a pain in the arse. An interesting couple of days anyway; was just taking a few pics from the spotters carpark and chomping on my brunchtime burger; expected to stroll up to the other end of the 'field where the light is better when I was suprised to be called by name.... turned out to be a chap I used to know from works in Ipswich, all those years back. Nice bloke, badly timed though as while he was yabbering away, the morning's flight came back with me in the wrong position for photography. Not, as it turned out that it would have made a whole lot of difference as already mentioned, it was ghastly dust spots everywhere. Still, a couple of fun days out. Would have been better to see people, but people are off doing real world stuff, so we can't have everything, eh.

Apart from that, it's been a couple of funny days.... a certain lethargy strikes, the black dog'd be having a go if I didn't keep an eye out for that vicious bastard and have a big stick for his sole use. If I didn't know better, I'd suggest it's time to put the travelling boots on. I know I've got a trip south at the weekend, but that's not enough to fill my personal fuel tank. The thought of work is boring me rigid. Right now, I need the bike on the road, a catsitter in, and me staying up in the Dales to get my Yorkie fix; oh, and to have the next European trip planned, which it's not beyond the basic structure levels. As I type this opus, the humidity's right up, and there's a humdinger of a storm overhead terrifying the cat; which just points out that I can get weather like this in much nicer places; it's time to go to Slovenia again. And I'm not quite sure when I'm going to get out there. Which pleases me not one bit. Time to make things move, methinks.....

More mountains to climb

Well, in that my idea of going over to Wales for a bit of the old low level photography last week came to naught, and climbing the high valley-sides of the Machynlleth Loop got rained off with nasty weather, before I came home via the car park that is the M62 and got run over by the big lorry carrying hangovers to deserving muppets. A good trip away none the less; stayed over with my mate in Scouserland; first time I've been over to the gaff in question and what a gaff it is; maximum respect for putting up with that place, that longmatey. Popped over to see another North West mate while I was there; I add Blackburn to the list of places where the traffic management officer of the council needs shooting. Nice coffee though.

In the absence of welsh travel, and sheep to shag, instead a jolly time was had over at Warton Airfield again; not much flying but enough to keep my interest. My first Mark 4 Nimrod sitting out on the ramp; a brand new Typhoon flew and a Harrier I'd not seen before. This time, I found the same spot as everyone else uses, in fact someone I knew from one of the aviation groups was hanging around on site, but communication being typical, didn't realise it until later. Mind you, stopped off beforehand for brunch in the chippy in Freckleton and I'm obliged to say it's great; proper meat pie made local, gravy on the chips and nice friendly guy serving. Yay!











Today, it's domestics. Oh, fun. The kitchen's knee deep in laundry and guff and there's no time for fun. But I've been beavering for several hours and the back's broken. Of the job, not mine. A tasty salad dinner (yum), and I think as it's a nice evening, I'd treat myself to a vroom on the bike. In fact I was just about to go and do it... except that I remembered just in time that the rear brake's off and in pieces; wouldn't have been good to have remembered that at 40mph!!

Fear the beer

Anybody get the registration of that wine and beer delivery lorry that ran me over last night? Repeatedly. And the kind helpful folks that helped me afterwards pouring sambucca down my neck instead of medicinal brandy? Well intentioned, but they just got it wrong.

Boys and girls, I am not a well person this day.

No, really. No sympathy cause it's all self inflicted but a certain amount of awfulness seems to have happened. There's a puke stained rag that used to be my shirt; those who have boozed with me know I am not Cardinal Chunder; I appear to have gained a monster bruise on my arm and I can't remember getting home. I am engaged on returning this place to some kind of order from squalor but I think a pint of water's in order, and then another and then bed

Health warning

Well, taste anyway for those that monitor such things. There's a new Hungarian Traminer wine at ASDA, Riverfall or some such.... avoid, avoid avoid, people. Never tasted anything like it. This is not a good thing !

Oh, that'll be it then

GLC has sounds again !!! Wooo!!! The after market and rather funky stereo from Christine is now snug in the dash, and I have music. Yay !! And I suspect I may have an inkling as to why the Goldie Lookin' Car has been misfiring and I was due to check out the air filter - took the filter cover off to check it's condition and frankly.... it just wasn't there. Ah, that may be it then.
That means the fuel air mix is wrong, and it confuses the electronics that measure these things and runs the engine un-necessarilly lean. If you leave the air filter off for the MOT, it gets an older engine through the emissions test, but it's a bit damned cheeky to leave the thing off. Anyway, picking up a new one tomorrow. So that should be it. Hopefully. Until the next big thing falls off. No biggie, a little TLC is what this motor needs, not a major crisis session like the nightmare is Christine.

The bike on the other hand is roadless for the moment.... nothing wrong with it, just seems like a sensible time to take it off for a few days and refurbish the rear brake. The pads need replacing pronto, and as the caliper has to come off, I'm getting it totally stripped, refurbished and repainted at the same time. Beautifican process continues. It's overdue. Just have to have fun with cars instead.

We were visited by the little tin gods at work today; a couple of very senior blokes indeed. Through a combination of good planning and years of practise I managed to avoid them all day until the debrief from today's fun and games, where I managed to place myself so close to them they completely missed me. THAT's skill, folks !!! Last day of work tomorrow for a few days... I asked for five days leave as I've been feeling tired and a little whacked out and irritable of late. They gave me two days. Bastards. A bit of driving and taking pics of planes is appropriate, methinks. You know it makes sense.

Oh, and speaking of far away things, a very pleasant yabber the other day with a long time absent buddy who called me up out of the blue for a quick chinwag; turned into a long one. Well, hello, hello over there. Long time no hear, the pleasure was all mine, keep being well and don't leave it another year til the next one!!!

A hundred and twenty's plenty

Anybody else annoyed with those 20mph limits and their damned annoying "twenty's plenty" signs? Nannying rubbish. Like the "Careful now" sign in Father Ted. What genius thought of that slogan? Twenty's plenty? It bloody isn't. Not even near. Hit a f*ckwit at that speed and he won't die, he may survive to continute breeding and dumbing out the nation. We don't want that, do we. We need to thin out the idiots, it's called natural selection. Works in the wild, same principal applies here. Too thick to live? Spat. You're fertiliser, pal. No waste. Nothing to see here. Move on. We're missing a moron. Good! One less. Lets be clear about this.

ROADS ARE FOR CARS.

Cyclists, if they want to play should learn proper road safety and use it. Damnit, my generation did. That's why they're still alive. Why can't the current lot? Kids in the street? Tufty club. Green Cross man. Worked for me, I'm still here. Too thick to listen? Too cool for schewl? Evolution speaks loud, I see Father Darwin taking aim from behind that ice cream van with his Smith & Wesson .44 Evolver. If a peddy strolls across my space while not considering me and my two tons of powered metal, well he's my bitch. As the holy William said, "put your foot down and turn on your windshield wipers". Folks, it's weeding out the worthless. Lets make a crusade of this, everyone join me on Monday down at the upgrade shop, free nitro and bullbars for all. Lets do it for the good of the country.

It's a beautiful day. Watch some bastard ruin it.

A cracking night. Until I left the house and went out, that is. I don't much like being the only sober one in a room of drunks and as last night's Mr Driver, working early the next day, that's me. Drinking bottled water in an estate pub surrounded by half evolved scaleybacks in one of the most depressing NE Lincs towns ever known to the devil, watching a hyperactive middleaged woman in a pink wig and pink dress mutilate pop standards to a backing track, all in the name of comedy. Actually, she wasn't that awful but I don't appreciate audience participation gigs, and consider the faceful of water that came my way at one point just about getting away with it in the public humiliation stakes considering my mob chose to sit at the front rather than the far more sensible "in another town, for instance London" option that I'd have preferred. About four months ago this weekend, I was having dinner at the Savoy. Wonder what went wrong....?

This day's not been my own and I'm none too pleased about that. Worked a gentleman's shift after not enough sleep on the specialist van while the rest of my mob ran around like mad beavers sorting out the aftermath of yesterday's success. Wasn't too displeased by that to be honest; I've been shagged out since the exam thingy's and don't much feel like playing, mucking about with all that rubbish did not appeal. Tried to book a week off work; best I could get was two days. Bastards. Anyway, a day on the van's not unpleasant; was spent trialling some new kit of the "I can't tell you about it" variety, always jolly fun. A nice time in the farm shop beckoned but work over-ran; and had to be back home to meet Baz and his new good lady for Car Tweaking goodness on GLC so that's my shopping trip knackered, my trip to some proper seaside this afternoon knackered and this lad frankly none too pleased. Hey ho. Got a pile done yesterday though. For some mad reason I can't identify, just grabbed the Vac and started cleaning those areas of the house that haven't seen such activity in a million years, in other words most of it. I think I've hoovered up enough cat hair to make a couple of spare Gizmo's and enough bird feathers to revolutionise aircraft design. What's next. Don't know. There's no food shops open and there's not enough food or drink left in the house; don't want Pizza. Doth the takeaway beckon? Gawd I hope not.

Day of Rest

Indeed it is. Working the weekend, so midweek days off are the order of the day.

A pity I'm too knackered to make a start on it really... this cramming for exams stuff seems to have totalled me somewhat. There's stuff to do, lots of it. There's stuff I aught to do and want to do. Can't get started. A nice lie in was the order of the start of the day; distraction and premature wakeyness from the assassin of the household condemning another sparrow to a plastic bag shroud in a plastic wheely-tomb; and wanting to tell me all about it. Bless 'im. The cupboard's a little bare so I used my new found egg frying perfection skills to knock up an egg banjo for brekkie; accompanied by some frankly quite horrible Tesco's orange juice. I'd avoid this, folks; tastes like glorified orange squash. A dilution too far, methinks.

GLC's playing up at the mo; cutting out at odd times. Would suggest a mucky air filter, but more likely mucky fuel injectors. Gonna take a look under the bonnet today for the former, and at the weekend for the latter. And on that cheerful note, I'm going to wander out and say hello to the world, it's taken long enough. Always got my Amazon binge to look forward to; a few book parcels winging their way here....

That'll be a pass then

The worky exam thing, that is.

Which was nice.

Turned out that one of the assessors was a bloke I used to work with down south, back at Felixstowe, first time I went front line; made sure it wasn't him that assessed my work, partly for reasons of credibility but mainly becasue I really didn't want him knowing what a f*ckwit I've become since I left! Interesting to swap stories with him after the work was done and the results known.... when I started down there, I arrived with a particular oversized loon I'd worked with on and off for years. Didn't know at the time we were known as "Dangerous and Dangerous'er" (not sure which one I was) ; and that I was considered "a gun nut with anger issues and a monster motorbike". But in a friendly way. Heheheheh.

Celebrated - not so much the success but more the end of the damned stressy process by heading off to the house of beer for a few. Mainly indulged in Fugglestou's IPA; I'd not normally bother with an IPA but I enjoyed their Hewitt's repro at the Lincoln Beer Festival and I'm glad I gave it the time, as it's clear and lovely and moreish. Oh, and a Porter'ish dark beer called "Black Dog". I wouldn't have bothered, but I have enough scrapes with my own Black Dog and I really couldn't resist it. Back home for Chinese and silly Peter Jackson DVD, so at least there's no need to cook brekkie!!!

Bone'ing

Bone'ing up that is. Mucky reader, wash your mind out. Well, no bedroom clearing for me yet. An enormous pile of paper cramming for tomorrow's exam at work to deal with first.

Oh joy.

Brought the work home, Pizza and a bottle of red are helping me on my way.

But god, I am bored.

State of chaos

Well, half my bedroom's currently in boxes in the bathroom waiting to be deep cleaned; I've been over the rest with a vaccumn and a mop twice trying to shift the plaster dust that's gotten everywhere but to no avail. Guess what I'll be doing tonight then. Ten minutes with a disk cutter, digging out a cable run that needs to be created; and nothing's ever the same! Mind you, probably overdue. Judging from the underside of the bed, there's enough discarded Gizmo hair down there to make two more cats.

I've been off on the pop again; down to Ipswich for young Kaz's birthday. Jolly afternoon and evening; upon arrival nipped down to the town centre to aquire supplies of decent coffee.... can't get it here.... and was walking past the Old Rep pub, which I notice is now just called "The Rep", in an attempt to be groovier and refurbished and differently marketted where I thought I heard someone shout my name; as indeed I did. My old mate Sarge was hanging out of the pub window, having spotted my head walk past while having an afternoon session with Big NotGay Al, Adam the Foolish and Bloke with Sideburns. So a jolly quick pint grabbed, and afterwards onto the famous Fat Cat public house to meet up with Alien Kev, oft' mentioned in this journal for much brown beer; then onto the excellent Dove for more of the same before moving off to Pals to join up with the others; which is a shame as it's not our sort of place, but hey, I'll make her come to a brown beer pub when it's MY birthday, eh. Fair's fair and all that.

Not a great deal to report really; except that the weather was excellent; the beer was fine; Pals is confusing, rubbish, large, spent half the night looking for separated people; and lunch at the Butt and Oyster on the river on Sunday was most groovy indeed. Would have liked to have bimbled up the coast for a while, but there was no time before returning north again was the order of the day. Need some mooch time in Suffolk I think; it's deserving of exploring again.

How handy !!!!

I have a big list of things to do. And indeed I am doing them.

But wait .... deep meaty joy... I have found many Half Man Half Biscuit songs to download! Oh surreal music of my youth :o)

"Gouranga Gouranga? Yes I'll 'be happy' When you've been arrested for defacing the bridge"

Hehehehehe....

Mouth full of carpet, eyes full of nails

This morning I feel like I had a load of beer, four cigars and a kebab for supper.

Ah, I did.

That'll be it then.