Halloween, TV And Family

Poxy Halloween.
I remembered to get bags of sweeties for the little gits.
I bitched about it throughout the whole purchase.
I’ve had 1 Devil, 2 Skeletons, 3 Grim Reapers, a Dracula, a Witch, and bizarrely, 2 school girls dressed as, well, school girls.
Frighteningly, it was only the St Trinian’s pair who were unaccompanied.
Fireworks are going off all over the place.
Loud, house shaking rockets.
Without the weed I’d be exhibiting the early symptoms of shellshock.

I thought the signers on late night TV were the worst thing a stoned insomniac can be faced with.
I was wrong.
Last night I discovered something even more hectic.
They have people who describe what is happening, during the TV programme.
I am assuming for blind people.
“Dalziel and Pascoe have just pulled into the car park of a pub. They get out of the car and go inside.”
I know! I’m watching!
That is just way too freaky for this stoner.

Another advert has caught my eye.
This one is for Tena Pants.
Not pads, Pants.
Forgive me, but if you have moved beyond a pad, that is a fecking nappy.
I’d suggest your problem is a tad more serious than crossing your legs when you sneeze.

I heard a funny story about my sister and 2 of her kids.
She was going out, leaving her 14yr old daughter, 16yr old son and his girlfriend indoors.
She had had a new sofa delivered that day, so warnings of certain death if anything happened to it were issued.
When she got back, my nephew and niece were bitching, as only siblings can, and inevitably he went too far.
“Right! That’s it! I’m telling!”
She then informed her mother, and I quote,
“H was shagging his girlfriend’s bum on the sofa!”
My sister, slightly taken aback, asked her to repeat.
Apparently, her response could have been heard by Helen Keller,
“What??!!! On my NEW fucking sofa?!”
He went into hyper-denial.
Then, just as the boy thought it was all over, she picked up his phone and accidentally activated the screen saver.
It was a picture of his girlfriend performing, what some of the papers euphemistically call a ‘sex act’, on his person.
Unfortunately, he was artistically back dropped by her new sofa!

Laundry, Music And Prayers

My Grandfather used to say that life is about constantly learning.
Today I did that and added a new string to my bow.
The Wool Wash.
I used to just have ‘white wash’ and ‘dark wash’ in my repertoire.
White included greys and some light browns.
Dark was anything blue through to black.
Who knew what a minefield doing the laundry could become?
I don’t understand why at the end of ‘wool wash’ it marinades your jumpers in a load of water but still lets you open the door.
The designers/engineers may as well have programmed in an ironic laugh that ended with the word, ‘Twat’.
I’d also like to know how the little drawer, which gets filled with cleaning products, can look like something furry has died and rotted in there.

John the ipod has been in a strange ‘shuffle’ mood all day.
‘He’ is either having a breakdown or the software is showing signs of strain.
30GB and it’s nearly full.
Check this out for eclectic weirdness:

Take That - Rule The World (Leave it!)
Handel - Ombra Mai Fu
Gogol Bordello - Start Wearing Purple
Vivaldi - Gloria
Nina Simone - Let It be Me
Nick Lowe - The Beast In Me
The Toys - A Lover’s Concerto (Cracker! Forgot I had it!)
Gotan Project - Santa Maria (Del Buen Ayre)
The Klezmatics - I Ain’t Afraid*
Nino Rota - The Godfather Waltz
The Pogues - The Irish Rover
The Rolling Stones - Mother’s Little Helper
Stevie Wonder - Jesus Children Of America
Pulp - Mis-shapes

The Gypsy punk in between Handel and Vivaldi was a bold choice, but
there was something special about hearing the Gloria while on my way to collect cannabis!
I would have freaked right out if The Stones had been played on the walk back.
JTI has picked up on my religious schizophrenia and is covering my back with the vengeful, smiting, smoting Deity of my maternal line with The Klezmatics.
Following it with the main theme from The Godfather was excellent though!

Housemate Claire has her first lot of Herceptin next week and the operation to get the tumour the week after.
As she is going to be under for about four hours she has decided to be stapled rather than stitched, it’s quicker.
Anaesthetic takes its toll on a body.
You know the drill people.
Those of you, who do, offer one up. Those of you who don’t, do whatever it is you do!
Numbers 12:13. (Shortest prayer in the Torah!)


*If you have the time, the inclination or can find it, give it a listen.
Two verses in particular appeal to me.
‘I ain’t afraid of your Yahweh
I ain’t afraid of your Allah
I ain’t afraid of your Jesus
I’m afraid of what you do in the name of your G-d.

I ain’t afraid of your Bible
I ain’t afraid of your Torah
I ain’t afraid of your Koran
Don’t let the letter of the law
Obscure the spirit of your love -- It’s killing us.’

A Multicultral Day

I don’t think I need to bang home just how scary some Americans are, look at their President for fuck’s sake.
Individually, some can be quite cool, en masse, they are Septics.
But this from, Fact Checker, at the Washington Post has me really, really worried.
It is from an Associated Press poll:

* 34% of Americans believe in ghosts.
(31% believe George Bush is doing a good job!)
* 23% have seen a ghost.
* 19% accept the existence of spells or witchcraft.
* 14% have seen a UFO.
* 5% have seen a monster in their closet.

Jesus!
After a smoke, I had this weird vision of George Bush in the White House, wondering where he is going to get extra troops for Afghanistan from.
Then calling for the teeth of The Hydra to produce a skeleton army like in Jason and The Argonauts.
Except he wouldn’t be able to say ‘Argonauts’ without ballsing it up.

Tomorrow, the Sleepy Mansions Urban Kibbutz gains another member.
Her name is Pat and she comes from Malaysia.
She moved the majority of her stuff in last week but tomorrow will be her first time living here.
Today she has been cleaning and getting her room ready.
I have to admit that it took me a while to work out what the ‘Hoober’ was, but when she did the vacuuming mime and said it again, I was on it!
She tells me she likes to cook Chinese food, which will please the Housemates and the rest of the collective.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I don’t like it.
Perhaps I can be trained.
When I mentioned a local restaurant to her she declared it,
“Shit!”
My exact thought!
Pat will fit in perfectly I think!

I would like to thank the Polish roofers working opposite the house, for the Master Class in, ‘Arse Crack, accented English expletives and flouting Health and Safety rules’.
I thought tying yourselves to the scaffolding tower, while it flopped around like a cock in a sock, was particularly inspired.
Securing it to the house may have been the better plan though.
A most amusing afternoon.
Bravo Gentlemen, Bravo.

Another Sunday

I’ve got to get this out but I’ll get it over and done with quickly.
What is it with people who hold their hands up in the air when they are singing hymns?
Is it really necessary and what purpose does it serve?

I ache today.
Badly.
My shoulders are killing me and the bruise on my arm is purple now.
I also made short shrift of a bottle of Absolut Vodka last night.
Eeeesh..

Cousin Markus visited.
He has jacked in another job.
He was working at DFS, selling furniture.
Making full use of an expensive private education!
I got Nuns, he got Brothers.
Hehehe! I love him!
His manager had decided he was ‘unmanageable’ because, as Markus said,
“I can’t get fucking excited about sofas!”
His other great line was,
“They don’t seem to understand I have NO drive or ambition, and I DO tell them. I want to do as little as possible, for as much as possible.”
Fair enough! Out and proud!

It’s been a weird day, the clocks went back, it’s pissed with rain and the Great South Run was on.
I’ve seen a lot of people wrapped in tin foil limping about, talking about chaffing and blisters.
Childless helium balloons floating past.
Everyone just seems to be waiting for it to get dark, so they can bitch about it being an hour earlier.
I guarantee at least one person will mention S.A.D to you this week.
I will also put money on them telling you they HAVE it.
Tell them there are light bulbs that help and fuck ‘em off out of it.
They will half your chi.

Stripping And Tripping

Today, Crisp-e and I have helped Sassy strip her floorboards.
I have a bruise on the inside of my forearm, the smell and taste of charred sawdust in my system and a peculiar vibration in my fingers.
I have an experiment planned for them later!

Not wishing to service the stereotype of lesbians and their affinity for power tools, but I totally loved the industrial floor sander!
Great bit of kit, if a little frightening.
Crisp-e was in charge of the hand held affair, which was even scarier.
This thing had a mind of its own.
Crisp-e wasn’t really ’working’ it; he was just holding the button in the ‘On’ position while it shot randomly around the floor.
He also believes that it was trying to make fire.

I was expecting to see cousin Markus this afternoon but the Big little Brother turned up instead.
Talk about ‘mashed up’.
He was a few hours into a pretty hideous looking ‘come down’ and sat here to await his next delivery.
He also avoided ATM.

He and friends went back there last night and one of them puked all over her garden.
(This amuses me, greatly and endlessly!)
He and his girlfriend have split up and she has been pulling some pretty nasty shit.
Having him arrested for example, after she assaulted him.
He is now banned from his own flat and is back living with ATM.
*Shudder*
(Personally, I’d prefer the cells, but, each to their own.)
Hence, his debauched weekend.
He sent me a text message at 2.30 this morning but he has no recollection of it whatsoever!
An insomniac Little big Sister is handy to have sometimes.

It's Like Riding A Bike

There is no way I could let this one slide past unremarked.
You what?
Check out the paper too.
The Torygraph!
What is getting me is how I missed the reports of the pavement fucker!
Jeez.
And some people think I’m wrong!

Ginger Thoughts

I’ll start with a question.
How, exactly, does this help the cause of Ginger people?
Make that 2 questions.
Do Ginger people have a cause?

I have to confess to being a bit Gingephobic and I have absolutely no idea why I am.
I really shouldn’t be.
My Dad insists that ATM had, what he describes as, ‘Auburn Hair’, when he married her.
I’m hindered by the fact that the few photos that remain of that day are in black and white.
ATM also confesses she hasn’t had her natural colour since 1972.
She didn’t answer the day I came back from a visit to my father and said,
“Hey, Dad says you are really Ginger. Is it true?”
Although, I do have to point out that both Dad and my brother grow beards with a high Ginger content.

Thanks to the Human Genome Project and other research we know that Ginger people have 2 copies of a recessive gene. This gene is on chromosome 16 and causes a change in the MC1R protein.
All very clever, but locating the gene for Alzheimer’s or Cancer may be more useful.

The Greeks and Romans wrote of ‘Red Headed’ peoples and tribes.
Boudica was described as having “a great mass of red hair… over her shoulders.”Then there is the association that red heads have fiery tempers.
I’d have to say that ATM had one of those!
That could be a self fulfilling prophecy though.
I have brown and grey hair and my temper can be epic.

Elizabeth I was a red head and for a time it was fashionable.
Painters appear to be champions of the Red head.
Titian red.
Botticelli’s Venus is red and the Pre-Raphaelites didn’t seem to mind a Ginge.
Then again, it has been argued that artists themselves have helped with the prejudice.
Red was Satan’s colour.
Judas and Mary Magdalene have been portrayed as red heads.
Folklore describes red heads as ‘the Devil’s children’ or helpers.

You’d think we’d be a bit beyond that shit now wouldn’t you?
So, I'm coming out.

I must carry at least one of the 2 recessive genes and have a fiery temper.
I’m a “Stealth Ginger”!
Being childless I have saved some poor bastard a daily beating at school.
The equation for that one is:
Ginger Kid + Lesbian Mother = No Fucking Chance.

Then the wonders of scientific research bring us this.
Right, ok.
That works because the human and worm systems are so similar?
Yes?
Crisp-e.. Science stuff, do your ‘splaining thing!

On a totally unrelated note.
Are people with lisps any better at oral sex?
I surfed into a programme called ‘A Girl’s Guide to 21st Century Sex’ and one of the women giving advice had a lisp.
It was just a thought that popped in to my head.
Particularly difficult one to research.

Pain In The Head

I’ve had a bastard headache all day.
I did all the right things, drank loads of fluids and popped pills.
But it won’t go.
This is the physical backlash for having to swallow down the fury of 2 days ago.
I decided on fresh air.
Big mistake.
I bumped in to ex pupils, who insisted on recognising me.
It usually goes something like this.

“Alright Miss? Still at Mayhem?”
“Hello. Um, No”
I then look in the pushchair and ask,
“That yours?”
“Yeah, you remember I was pregnant at the end of year 10. This is her. Bless ‘er. Little Errazuriz”
“Mmmm.. Unusual. Ah, Nice, her jewellery matches yours.”
“I ‘ad another one but he was a little bastard so he lives wiv his Dad.
Hyperactive our little Nike but I‘ve got to ‘ave him back when his Dad goes inside.”
“Really, how old is Nike now?”
“3 months.”
“Well, it’s been lovely, bye!”

But then sometimes it goes like this, as it did today.

“Oi Miss! Oi, Miss!”
I look up.
“Still a Lesbian?”
Oh Great! That old chestnut. In the queue in the supermarket.
“Yes, Thank You. And You? Still unable to read or write?”
I generally find there is no come back on that one.

I enjoy sharing football texts with Sassy. It’s guaranteed to get bawdy at some point.
The object of her perverted heterosexual lust this evening?
(She’s very out about being straight, I’m fine as long as she doesn‘t ram it down my throat).
Dimitar Berbatov, player for my beloved and beleaguered Spurs.
He is becoming a bit of a problem player for the manager.
I suggested a ‘firm hand’ and I’m sure you can see where the messages went from there.

So, I’ve been peeing every twenty minutes, the ‘pension’ crowd in Somerfield are in absolutely no doubt about my sexual preference, I have the imagery of a good friend being inappropriate with one of my sporting heroes and I still have the fecking headache.

Onward.

Them Again

They’re at it again.
My regular ‘Piss Off Sleepy’ merchants.
Yep, The Catholic Church.

The spread of AIDS in Latin America is getting out of hand.
Why?
The Catholic teaching on condoms.
I’ll leave you to imagine the sarcastic slow applause as I say,
‘Oh, Frightfully Well Done!’
How do they think Africa became so infected?
Osmosis?
Not putting your hand over your mouth when you cough?
Stop pretending ‘it’ doesn’t happen.
People fuck other people. Always have, always will. Rules or No Rules. Laws or No Laws. Condoms or no condoms.
I blame St. Augustine.
(Shagged himself silly, saw the light and then ‘banned’ everybody else from doing it. What an Arse.)
I can understand that ‘they’ think it’s a perfect way to wipe ‘us’ out but it’s ‘their’ people who are infected and dying.
I suppose, eventually, they will get their wish.
Once every heterosexual is infected and every foetus that is born doesn’t live to reproduce.
They will have wiped ‘us’ out because WE don’t ‘reproduce’, as we are so often told.
‘They’ do.

Then there is this little gem.
Suspended eh?
What are the chances that this Monsignor Tommaso Stenico is never seen or heard of again?
I’m going with Med/High.
Any offers?

Followed by this.
Ok.. I would have banned it for the title of the talk.
Jeez… ‘Are There Closets In Heaven?’
My gag reflex went into overdrive and I feel slightly embarrassed by them.

Please Release Me

‘I can’t sleep, something’s all over me
Greasy, insomnia please release me
And let me dream about making mad love on the Heath,
tearing off tights with my teeth
But there’s no relief
I’m wide awake in my kitchen
It’s dark and I’m lonely
Oh, if I could only get some sleep.’

Faithless - Insomnia

The insomnia is biting again.
I had a horrendous night last night.
Not really sleep, just a series of fifteen minute naps.
At one point my nose was whistling with each breath, sounding like a distant trumpeting elephant.
It even annoyed Kenny the Cat.
He put one paw on my cheek and batted my nose with another.
Then I became aware of how noisy the duvet is every time I move.
It’s new and sounds like it has been filled with Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.
My Sooper Dooper, designed by NASA, good for your back, indestructible pillow is banjaxed.
Never loses its shape?
Bollocks.
Mine looks like it has been tied in a reef knot.
At about 5am the magpies started their hideous noise.
I’m tempted to get an air pistol but I will try the ‘Spud’ gun and a catapult first.

This afternoon I lost my temper so badly I’m still not over it.
It’s like I’m carrying a cannon ball of mercury in the pit of my stomach, my hands are shaking and my jaw aches from grinding my teeth.
Usually, I’m a ‘smasher up-er’.
I’ve lost count of the number of ashtrays, glasses and mugs that have been launched into the fireplace; Furniture I’ve beaten with hammers and windows I’ve put my fists through.
This afternoon I couldn’t find anything to destroy.
It seems I like my stuff at the moment.
I found the axe but no wood.
So the rage is just sitting there, seething, waiting.
I detest feeling like this. It is such a weakness.
Hopefully, a few more joints and it’ll come out, like the bloke in the Green Mile.
Just dissipate into the ether.

On a gentler note.
I collected over thirty Ladybirds from the railings at the front of Sleepy Mansions.
They are now in the back garden munching their way through the plague of Aphids out there.
I swept the forecourt and front of the house, which was ankle deep in leaves.
When it rains they get slippery and are fecking treacherous bastards.
(I refer you to the ‘Splits’ incident of an earlier post!)
I did next door as well.

But… I’m still off kilter. Poxy temper.

Cruising Through Monday

I’m definitely going to hell.
Polish Mass has been changed to Wednesday so my mind wandered occasionally today.
I couldn’t stop looking at the damn fine arse of the woman kneeling in front of me!
Eye contact was made during the sign of peace and she sat next to me after communion.
Although, she could have just got the wrong pew on the way back.Her name is Irina and she gave me her number.
I totally, accidentally, cruised Mass!

Then. The Instant Karma.
As punishment, G-d and his Angels of Electronics, prevented my ipod from synching with the computer and downloading the tunes I had bought.
Tunes I wanted to listen to while cooking.
Most frustrating.
A ‘help’ text to Crisp-e soon had it all back doing its thing but too late for a bit of Dinner Preparing Dancing.

I really can’t get my head round “Governor Schwarzenegger”.
It’s the accent I think.
Stood at the press conference saying the greatest problem faced by the fire-fighters was ‘the wint’.
I’d argue the flames aren’t that fecking helpful either.

Housemates..
May I suggest that the problem with University Challenge questions is not their length, it’s you bastards talking over them.
Uni Challenge is one of the few TV programmes I like.
Just shut the fuck up and let me have a go will you?!
Jeez!
Also, whoever keeps putting the EMPTY marmite jar back in the cupboard, I WILL Kill You!
I’m also getting pretty pissed off with being the only person who can work the mop.
How is it I can go away for a week, come back and still mop fucking floors I haven’t even walked on?
It takes the piss.

Good luck to Crisp-e for tomorrow.
He is going to do the same ABA Boxing Tutor course that I did a few months ago.
Get the booze, anti-inflammatory pills and serious painkillers lined up before you leave my friend.
You will thank me tomorrow evening.
I will also suggest texting ahead and having Herself get a bath ready for when you walk in.
Don't even bother with food.
You just need to go 'Withnail'.

*Sigh*

Is it possible to slip quietly out of the ‘Closet’?
Just get on with living your life without having to announce to all and sundry your preferences.
No great fanfare.
General acceptance without a thought.
What about those who just get on with it?
Go to work, pay taxes and bills.
Live next door and stand behind you in the queue at Tesco.
The people who take it in turns to go to Mass, so as not to be too obvious.
Those people who ‘everybody know’ is gay but it’s never mentioned.
The people who play the pronoun game, never using he or she when referring to their ‘partner’.
Are they thought any more of if they do come out?
Or is that the ‘ramming it down our throats’ thing?
“They’re alright as long as they don’t ram it down my throat”.
A line usually followed by the sister sentence,
“Or try and push it on me”.
Whatever ’it’ might be.
Men fear this will involve their anus in someway.
Their imaginations usually going further than is practical in reality.
In truth the screaming queen who has their backs turning wall-ward has quite the opposite in mind!

It’s very rare that you get an outright,
“Dear G-d, No!” from a woman.
The most common reply heard by this Sinner is,
“I’ve thought about what it would be like with a woman, that it’s more gentle”.
Followed by the joint favourites,
“I’ve tried it but I like cock”, and “I snogged a girl at school/college/university once”
Then the most dangerous,
“I’d like to try it”.
Run.
This is the area of the Lesbian map that should read,
‘Here there be Dragons, Bunny Boilers and the Nightmare who will end your first relationship’.

What’s got me on this?
I don’t know..
J K Rowling?
Thinking about someone I know who is resolutely closeted and forced into a celibate life because of a Church unable to update itself?
Mostly I was thinking,
Why does it have to be so fucking complicated.

Ho Hum.
Mea Culpa.
Looks like Polish Mass for me.
Again.

Disaster

My day started disastrously.
While shaking the crumbs out of the toaster, I dropped the whole bastard thing in a sink full of water.
Amazingly, for the first time ever, I had unplugged it.
It’s clean and crumb free but totally banjaxed.
I was angry and bewildered at the same time.
A weird feeling.

It isn’t ending that brilliantly either.
England were beaten in the rugby.
Ho hum.
No one expected us to be in the final anyway and we were beaten by the better team.
I will not mention the Australian Official who robbed us of a try.
I will mention that the man who has been shown racing Cheetahs didn’t do any running at all.
I also found the SNCF advertising around the stadium a bit of a frigging cheek, seeing as they went on strike as soon as their team were out.

Schnee was talking about class the other day. For me, this sums it up.

Another thing that has been on my mind.
At the bottle bank what colour hole do Marmite jars go in?

I don't know if this is good news or not but according to J K Rowling, Dumbledore is gay.
Yeah, right.

An Autumn Week

This week lots of things have caught my eye.
So, in no particular order, here we go.

There has been outrage in Britain about Terry Wogan’s bollocks.
Bearing in mind my limited experience of male panty parts, all old men have that kind of thing going on.
Bits and pieces of them sag with time too and more importantly, what are they looking at his nuts for?

I seriously want to find out about mushrooms.
I want to know, with absolute certainty, what I can eat.
Not the usual mind expanding ‘shrooms I usually scoff at this time of year.
I want to know about Chanterelles, Morels etc.
There have been some crackers in and around Savernake Forest.
Jess managed to find the rotting corpses of a pheasant, half a rabbit, a portion of wood pigeon and something unidentifiable.
We saw two deer, fortunately the Hound couldn't be arsed to chase them.
I’ll stick some pictures on at the bottom.

I missed a parcel being delivered and the postal people left it with my neighbour.
A scribbled note on a card informed me of this.
Why is it that when you go to collect it you take the card with you?
They know who you are, you live right fucking next door!
Never has a neighbour asked me for a utility bill and my passport.

I have a new mobile phone.
As unusual I can’t work the bastard thing but it is fecking lovely to look at.
It does all sorts of things that I will never understand until I either read the book or see one of my teenage nieces or nephews.
It is highly unlikely I will read the book.

I rediscovered this.
Doubles me up every time I see it.
Don’t forget to turn your sound up.

Last, but by no means least, the Rugby.
I’m on cloud 9!
Beating France to get to the final.
The almost ecstatic moment watching Chabal cry.
Then tonight, watching the French get beaten by Argentina!
34-10
Bliss.

Great Things

Twenty five years ago today I was playing truant from school. I was sat with thousands of others on Southsea seafront.
After a two hour wait I saw Henry VIII’s warship, Mary Rose, break the surface after laying on the bottom of The Solent for 437 years.
It was an amazing ‘hair stand on end’ moment.
A great thing.

Another great thing that has happened today.
Doris Lessing is the first British woman to receive a Nobel Prize for Literature.
The general consensus appears to be, ‘about bloody time’.
From her appearance on the News I’d say she was pleased, but decidedly underwhelmed.
When told by a reporter as she got out of a taxi at her home she responded, “Oh Christ”.
She said that she had won every other prize in Europe and they were just giving her this one before she died.
Cracking!
Brilliant grumpy old lady.

Another great thing happened today.
M in Wiltshire had a photo used by the BBC News!
It was a piece about Autumn colours coming early and it was one of four photos used.
Hers was the best though!

I America it is National Coming Out Day today!
Did you ever hear of such a thing?
I really can’t see that catching on here.

And finally…. People, as I have ALWAYS contended, Vodka is good for you!

Tate And Fate

The Tate Modern’s latest installation is basically a fecking big hole in the floor.
It’s 548 feet long, in some places 3 foot deep and 10 inches across.
It is called ‘Shibboleth’ and is by Colombian artist Doris Salcedo. It has been the subject of many TV news stories, newspaper articles and radio shows.
Still, after all that, two people have managed to fall in it!
How?
There are posters describing the ’art’, warning signs and of course, a frigging great hole in the ground.
Some people are beyond stupid and these definitely fall into my ‘walking organ donor’ group.

We have had a ‘Wake’ for Helmut the tortoise..
Sassy, Rob and the usual subjects attended.
We toasted the utter pointlessness of his petdom.
Bearing in mind he was asleep half the fucking year!
The strange thing is that this reptile hung around longer than Parents, Grandparents and siblings. What a Dude!
We have drunk 7 bottles of wine, half a bottle of Slivovitz, tea from Raffles Hotel in Singapore and Cointreau.
I’m considering posting the recipes I made up.

Housemate Claire is having to choose the way she is ‘put back together’ after her surgery.
The choice being staples or stitches.

From my experience of motorcycle crashes, broken noses with the bone protruding from a nostril, appendix operation, cuts in my mouth, split lips, cuts over my eyes, cuts in my scalp, lacerations on my back and thighs from a belt.
Cuts under my eyes, cuts in my upper lip, the stab wound in my shoulder, the stab wound at the top of my hip, the stab wound between 4th and 5th rib on the left.
The cut nerve in my right thumb and little finger. The slashes in my wrist (Self Inflicted)
Repairing the rape damage the Step Dad had done to my anus, which I think was the most unpleasant.

Before you start believing I am THE most accident prone person on earth, I’d just like to say that all injuries were a 50/50 split from ATM and Step Father number one. (Except the bike smash and the appendix!)
All of them were secured using ‘Silk’, not a fucking staple in sight.
Surgeons like nothing better than showing off their skills.
I’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy.
Sutures all the way!

I’d be interested to hear any positive ‘Staples’ stories.

Pesky Kids

Horror of horrors.
Now, two of the brats next door have a fecking Recorder.
The baby has her own persistent, annoying noise.
One of them has partly mastered the first few bars of ‘Three Blind Mice’, the other one is just breathing in to it and hoping that will bring forth some sort of ‘tune’.
It doesn’t.
I defy anyone to get anything vaguely resembling a tune out of one.
Instruments of torture.
There is probably evidence them being used during the Inquisition.

As most of you know I’m not very good with small children.
They are too unpredictable for me.
I have even less interest in babies.
The words, “Would you like to hold him/her?” fill me with dread.
My response of,
“Dear Christ in heaven, NO!”
is not always well received.
What gives people this idea that you want to hold their baby?
They sit there going on about how fecking wonderful parenthood is, that they couldn’t be happier, how you should try it.
Oh Yeah?
Then why are you trying to give the squealing thing to me?
(There has to be some sort of bonus for being resolutely homosexual. For me, it would be the 'child-free' status)
Baby On Board signs in cars affront my sensibilities too. How they are going to make it less likely you crash is beyond me.
Despite all that, this has got to be the best use, ever, for a small child!
My sister and I used to do similar things to her kids.

Newton And Karma

Thanks to Newton we know ‘that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction’.
Today I have become acutely aware of it.
I knew there would be some payback for missing Mass and watching Sport all day yesterday.

Being of ‘mixed religion’ I try not to piss G-d off too much. I never know which one I’m going to get.
The G-d of one faith is a vengeful G-d and will smite and smote down through the generations.
The other one, although claiming to have made me in love, appears to hate me and wants me to be guilty/sorry all the time.
Ho hum.

This morning they joined forces.
I was supposed to be helping the Tame Pharmacist in the shop but was left behind.
Getting out of bed I narrowly avoided stepping in cat sick.
While making my cup of tea, water splashed out and burned my foot and the milk I put in had gone off.
Lumpy tea.
I gave the toast a miss.
I slipped in the shower and smacked my knee so hard that when I put weight on it I fell against the sink.
This is when the ‘g-ds’ double teamed me.
Falling against the sink caused my Star of David to stab me straight in the chest.
I took the hint and went to lunchtime Mass.

It was in Polish which was an excellent experience.
It’s easy to sit there and let your mind wander when it’s in your own language.
Reading the newsletter, checking if you like or even know the hymns, hoping the bloke who shouts out doesn’t sit near you etc!
When it’s in Polish, you pay attention.
You can’t drift back in to listening and immediately pick it up again.
You do it in ‘English’ in your head, even the Priest’s bits.
It makes you feel more involved somehow.
The afternoon was misfortune free.

Sports On Sunday

I found myself in a frightening and uncomfortable position last night.
Cheering the bloody French on against the All Blacks.
(Although, the New Zealand kit seems to prove Grey is the new Black!)
I don’t need to remind anyone of my abiding dislike and distrust of our Gallic neighbours but I’d rather England play them in the Semis!
My tactical cheering helped! The French won.
Allez les Bleus!
Crisp-e and I discussed the chance that England could actually win again.
Doing the double.
I told him I would book my trip to Australia there and then if we did.
That is a sledging you have to personally deliver.

A bizarre moment came in the boxing.
Amir Khan fighting Scott Lawson.
We’ve all seen boxing movies, the music to come out to is your fighting music.
The tune that gets you all riled up and ready to batter someone.
Scott Lawson marches out to ‘Delilah’.
Delilah?
Not a song I associate with pugilism for some reason.

Today my life has gone like this: The Archers omnibus, Chinese Grand Prix, Rugby, Football, cook the dinner, followed by more Rugby.
Some days it just all comes together!
I willed Fiji on against the South Africans, sadly it just wasn’t to be but they have done themselves proud.
Totally disappointed by Scotland.
Argentina as a Rugby playing nation just doesn’t work for me.

Working in the Pharmacy this week. Watch this space.

Rugger, Chuckles And Bugger

As expected I had feck all sleep last night. E numbers are hideous.

This afternoon I think I broke the world ‘holding your breath’ record.
I lasted the whole of the second half of the Australia v England rugby match.
It wasn’t pretty, but we won!
As Crisp-e text me straight afterwards,
“Fucking come on! Fucking have that you arrogant convict bastards..”
Ignore National sporting rivalries at your peril, they’re deep and they are real.
The faces of the Ozzy team were a treat.
Let’s be honest, no one really minds seeing an Australian prop forward cry!

My favourite story of this week has got to be the Fighting Nuns in Bari!
I’m loving the one who has barricaded herself in.
The trouble is, as with fighting dogs, it only takes a few bad apples and all of them have to be muzzled.
I know Vatican II changed fashion for the good Sisters but seeing them muzzled would freak me right out!
Although, on the hellish Sister MB it would have been a real boon.

Later on I watched The Illusionist.
It surprised me by being really bloody good. Rufus Sewell always plays a great ‘Baddie’.
He has such disturbing eyes.

The only real bugger of the day is that I found my Tortoise dead this morning.
I’ve had him since my 5th birthday, so I’m gutted.
I’d been expecting his demise since my sister’s one woke up dead a couple of years ago.
RIP Helmut the Tortoise, you weren’t the most entertaining of pets but I loved you anyway.

Celebrate

On Friday I did the ‘Tame Pharmacist’ a favour and went and helped out in the shop.
I started with the immensely challenging job of counting Prescriptions.
Then adding up how many ‘items’ were on them.
The highlight being seeing ‘scripts written by Dr’s Hatfull, Daily and Ding.
Dr Ding! I ask you?
Then, I was printing labels for a Pharmacist who appeared to have had an Amphetamine based breakfast.
She was Daggers.
As in Dagenham, 2 train stops on from Barking!
I know why Sister Mary Margaret beat Latin in to me now.
I also have the answer to, “When am I EVER going to need this shit?”
Just so I’d know ‘PRN’ on a prescription means ‘as required’.
‘Beating, PRN’, must have been overlooked/skated past on the school prospectus by my Mother.

This evening I went to my good friend Q’s Fortieth Birthday celebration.
(In the pic, for those who don’t know, Q is the brown one. For those of you in London, you would have seen him on posters in the underground for Navy recruitment! He‘s a slut!)

It was also to celebrate him leaving the Navy after 20 odd years.
He is responsible for the resurgence in Navy boxing and taking boxing into some of the most shitty, run down schools in our area.
He WON’T take it to Mayhem because of the way the Head treated me.
Bless him.
Four times I tried to get school involved but the Head would have none of it.
His loss. Wanker.

I’m mashed.
Have been fed E numbers, had a joint.
Been drinking Sliwowica and vodka!

Catch me later….

Shalom.

Accosted And Consultants

I had the strangest experience along ‘Rue Albert’ today.

Being a polite well brought up individual, I held the door to a shop open and let a little old lady out before going in.
When I left I found she had waited for me.
She started going on about how unusual it was to find polite people these days etc.
I smiled, told her ‘No problem’ and tried to get away.

People, she grabbed hold of my hand and started walking with me.
I was mildly freaked out.
I’m not good with being touched.
I tried to gently shake her off but she was having none of it.
I gave in and asked her where she was going, carried her bag, held her hand and walked her home.
She told me she was 84 and then out of the blue said,
“Are you a homosexual?”
I was moderately freaked out.
I um-ed and ah-ed and then said, “Yes”.
Then started hoping that she wasn’t one of the old dears from Mass.
I don’t need that shit.
She stopped at a gate and I handed her the shopping, as she took it she said,
“Forty years ago I would have gone for you! Just my type!” and winked.
I was totally freaked out.
She was laughing her head off as she went inside.
I smiled all the way home.
Gives you hope doesn’t it?!

Housemate Claire had her appointment with the Consultant today.
Her ultrasound confirms that the tumour has broken up.
This is not good.
They will only be able to get 70% of it with a Lumpectomy.
Claire has decided that is unacceptable.
The surgeons don’t want to do a Mastectomy as it’s a bit fecking brutal.
Instead they are going to give her Breast Reduction Surgery.
The excess fat removed will contain all the cancerous shite and they’ll do the other one so she is ‘balanced’.
She’s having a boob job on the NHS and is delighted!

To all of you who have had words with your various Deities on her behalf, Thank You.

Blessed are you our G-d,
Creator of time and space,
Who has supported us,
Protected us and brought us to this moment.

Headlines, TV And Dad

I keep seeing the headline that Miss Moneypenny has died.
Well, the actress who played her.
The problem is I don’t see Moneypenny, I see Miss Funnyfanny.
Go on!
Imagine it being said with Connery’s accent.
Catchy isn’t it?
Thought I’d infect others with that.

Surfed into an episode of Hill Street Blues this afternoon.
So many young and now famous faces.
It was a programme we were allowed to stay up and watch if we were good.
The music just whipped me back to ATM’s front room during the 80’s.
The annoying clock that used numerous ball-bearings to indicate the time.
Which sounded like hammers and anvils being dropped on girders every hour.
The remote on the VCR was attached to it by wire.
My sister had a selection of leg warmers and I had lots of ‘Day-Glo’ socks, which were never worn as a pair.

I went to see my Dad last night.
First time in a few years.
I have tried to avoid it because I got it into my head,
‘I didn’t want to see him die’.
It was like we had never been apart.
He tried to get me to argue with him a few times but I ‘Matrixed’ those attempts.
We hugged a lot and got pissed.
Him grabbing bits of his mouth and showing me the cancerous areas was a bit hectic and I really hate seeing him without his teeth in.
The sense of humour was exactly the same we drank, smoked a joint and laughed a lot.
He is still smoking but has told the hospital he’s given up.
Gregory House is right, ‘They all lie’.
Amazingly and scarily he’s drinking 2 litres of Cinzano Bianco a day!
No mixer, straight up, from a half pint glass.
He’s fucking hardcore my Dad!

We talked about the different places I have visited in the time we haven’t had contact.
My Step Mum loves to travel but Dad isn’t a patient man and without a smoke his temper is quick and epic.
I told him about nicotine patches and the joys of Temazepam mixed liberally with alcohol. I also mentioned that, while he still could, he should get out and see something of the world.
We discussed Prague and Budapest.
This morning he phoned to tell me they were booking a trip to Rhodes!

Nice one Pa!

Rain And Pikeys

Today it has pissed with rain and I have been on Pikey Watch.

On her way out Sassy knocked the door and shared her suspicions of Pikeydom on the street.
I knew what she was going to say when she opened with,
‘I don’t want to sound snobby, but…..’
We had both spotted the same pair of unsavoury looking characters who were spending too much time walking up and down the road.
They had even looked in her window.
Trouble is it is also Freshers’ Week so there are quite a few strange looking people wandering about. They usually have a map printed from Google, a hangover, and a bewildered look.
The dead give away for 1st year students is the older couple with them.
Her, red eyed, panicky and smiling too much; him, bored, or looking at his watch and bitching about traffic on the A34, or using a key to poke at rotten window frames.

This is the time of year when Albert Road is awash with beer, kebabs and vomit.
Various staggering groups from different university ‘Societies’, usually holding up one member who is too drunk to walk.
Accident and emergency is full of booze related injuries and illnesses.
Street crime doubles. Fights and muggings dominate the local paper.
The Chavs will go for students when there are no sailors to fight with.

Housemate Claire had her last lot of chemotherapy last week.
Today she went for a scan.
The tumour has decreased by a third but there are now ‘bits’ around it.
This could be the tumour breaking up or they’ve made it angry and it’s gone ‘apeshit’
We won’t know much until she has seen the consultant next week.
The waiting bit is really shit.

Sad as it may sound, I have a favourite Weather man.
Dan Corbett is fucking brilliant. Check out his work!
I find myself watching his hands! It’s like a ballet!
It may also surprise you to learn he’s straight. So the BBC website says.

When I started writing, my beloved Spurs were 4-1 down to Aston Villa.
Fucking VILLA?
I felt a sacking coming on.
It finished 4-4.
The second half was heart stopping!
On our 125th Anniversary.
COME ON YOU SPURS!

Happy 18th to my cousin Meg!