*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!

Today

The Big little Brother turned up at midnight looking like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet.
He’d also had an unusual wardrobe malfunction.
Shoes that looked like slippers and cut off’s with an enormous hole in the crutch. The hole didn’t become apparent until he sat, cross-legged on the floor.
An unnerving experience.
He was smoking that Spice stuff that I can’t stand. I cannot begin to describe how nasty this stuff smells and tastes.
Thank G-d for the weed!
We drank wine, watched Rome, checked out our ’Science Project’ chatted and laughed.

This morning I had the Breakfast of Champions.
Chicken and Spinach Curry and a Chapatti. So much better the following morning.
I almost had a Cobra beer but 8am is a little early, even for me.
A huge mug of tea worked just as well.

Crisp-e visited this afternoon and it was great to see him. It’s been ages.
I had my first mooch around the garden for a few weeks.
The pond has cleared at last and I have a baby newt in there!
The Elodea has taken and looks green and healthy.
The snails are growing and are doing their stuff keeping it clean.
I’m really chuffed.

My junk mail has been inundated with notices that someone or other has added me as a friend on Facebook.
Cool.
But I’m confused. I do not have a Facebook account. Never have.
Schnee, explain this madness to me please.

Euro Rage

A few things have caught my eye over the past week, with this one especially pissing me off.
The first piss off being I can’t remember which advert it is.
Anyway.
There is an advert with a bouncing Pound sign in it. Like this £.
Ahh.. But it isn’t!
It has TWO lines across it. Like this € .
The stealth Euro.
They are trying to get us used to the idea my friends, by using our beloved TV against us.
I’m on to it.
The Fuckers!

Lessons in queuing are going to be given to foreign students visiting the Isle of Wight!
Residents have complained that they push to the front of queues for buses.
This has cracked me up.
How do you teach that?

“Right, if you’d all like to line up, one behind the other…..
Yes, that’s it…
Excellent!
Now, either stare at the sky or look at your feet.
Under no circumstances talk to anyone”.

Apparently the French, Germans and Scandinavians are the worst offenders.
Unsurprisingly, Eastern Europeans have no difficulty with the concept of queuing.
You also have to remember that the average age on the Island is 92.

Could this be the perfect example of that ‘Elephant in The Room’ thing?
To paraphrase Murray,
“Your man Jason is a cake boy!
He’s a disco dancing, Oscar Wilde reading, Streisand ticket holding, friend of Dorothy. Know what I’m saying?”
Jeez!
The Daily Nazi doesn’t usually hold back on calling a Queer a Queer.

A Wanderer Returns

I’m back from Canada.
I had a fucking blast! I’m in love with Vancouver.
I am not in love with jetlag.
I went to bed at 3 in the afternoon, got up for a curry at 5, went back to bed.
Got up at 10.25pm, had drop more curry and went back at 1.30am.
Got up at 5am, wanting a beer and went back at 8.30am.
Got up for the last time at 3.15 this afternoon.

A few tips for Vancouver bound travellers.

Expect to be killed/maimed/injured or just downright scared shitless by drivers on their mobile phones.
Prepare to be amazed by the number of Oriental people you see. All signs are in English and Cantonese.
Supermarkets DO NOT sell booze, only Liquor Stores.
No one else finds things named ‘Beaver’ this or that funny.
The price on something is not what you pay. They add on all manner of taxes.
Some bus drivers will threaten to kill you if you cross the road in the wrong place.
Others will give you free tickets just for being a ‘Visitor’.
When it is ascertained that you are ‘British’, do expect to be asked if you know people in towns you’ve never visited. Especially Scotland.
They smoke their dope neat.
Their dope is very strong!
Go to Commercial Drive and eat at Havana. Most Yum. Most cool.
Buy clothes, they are cheap. I can’t recommend Old Navy enough!
Fags are something completely different. Do not ask for 20, you get looks.
It’s almost impossible NOT to eat salmon.
The beggars always ask if you can ‘do them a favour’.
You can.
Point to all the shop windows with ‘Help Wanted’ signs in.
Watch a show called ‘Corner Gas’. You’ll be glad you did.
Have the Elvis Platter at Memphis Barbecue. Crisp-e, this is the place for you! Especially if you are on a Carb free thing again.
Taste Kokanee and Sleeman’s beer.
Go to Granville Island and check out the market.

The two weeks spent with Schnee and Kev were absolutely brilliant.
They are very calm and easy to be around.
I can’t thank them enough for being so generous with their home and time.
Their friends were a great bunch to be around too. Such a good laugh.
Gail, Ross and Lily, the invite still stands!

I read 9 books while I was there.
The number of books I get read is how I measure how good my holidays are.
This rates as one of the best. Ever.

Oh Canada!

As previously mentioned, I’ve been writing this blog for just over a year now.
It started out as a kind of test for myself.
To see if I could keep it going for a year.
I did, so I’m not too sure of the point of continuing with it now.

Anyway, I’m off to Canada in the morning for 2 weeks!
I’ll see how I feel about it while I’m there.

Schnee and Kevin.
Brace yourselves!!

Dad, Food And Football

I did it.
I spoke to my Dad.
We chatted for about half an hour until he couldn’t speak anymore.
He had to have another bit cut out of his mouth last week and his throat was very sore.
It was upsetting but at least I have done it.
He told me that his brother has been diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer and there is nothing they can do for him.
I thanked Dad for the top notch DNA and we had a good giggle.
I asked how he was doing with the cigarettes and booze and apparently he is persevering.
As he said, “Bit fucking late to stop now and why put myself through the stress!?”
I was inclined to agree with him.

I wore my ‘I Fuck Nuns’ tee-shirt today.
It always cheers me up and cooked up a storm, another thing that cheers me.
From the glut of Sleepy Mansions Runner Beans I have made a Goulash.
I made my favourite comfort eating pie too.
Layered with horseradish, beetroot, red cheese and onions. Repeat the layers and whack in the oven for 45 minutes.
Yummers!
When you cut into it the colours look amazing.
Covered both my religious halves.
Offending Catholics and comfort eating!

England are playing Germany this evening.
Nearly all the first choices for the team are injured, so I’m getting myself mentally prepared for a jolly good spanking.
Thank G-d it’s only a friendly.

Tomorrow I have been writing this blog for a year, so prepare yourselves for the last post!

I Don't Know

I think the burning question of the moment is, ‘Is Carlos Tevez a Cardassian?’
Either way, he has an unusually shaped neck and shoulders.
As you can probably tell, yesterday was another day filled with football.
Joy!

The Big little brother came round in the afternoon and we got totally mashed.
We drank wine, vodka and espressos
He staggered into a taxi at 10pm.
He was due home to his girlfriend at 5pm, so he went to ATM’s for reasons of personal safety.
I’m not having an easy one today.

My Dad phoned this morning and left a message.
He’s dying.
He has about a week to live and wants to see me.
For some reason I can’t bring myself to go or even call him back.
Is that selfish?
Probably.
It’s weird though because I adore my Dad.
I just don’t want to see him all ravaged by the cancer.
I don’t want to be upset.
I don’t want to see him upset.
I don’t want to have to say goodbye.
I don’t want him to go.

Pomp And Circumstance

I went to bed at 3am and was up again at 6.30am.
Watching TV can usually lull me back to sleep, this morning that wasn’t working.
So I laid on the sofa with John the Ipod and we had ‘The Empire Sessions’.
John chose Elgar, Pomp and Circumstance.
Amazingly, I got another 2 hours sleep.

Mr Next Door, the one with the Chinese wife, has played “You’re My Best Friend” by Don Williams, ALL day.
I think he might be a bit down, it’s been on repeat.
I’m now having visions of him sat, rocking, on the kitchen floor, surrounded by dead bodies.

I, on the other hand, am extremely happy.
My beloved Spurs won 4 nil, had a goal disallowed and could have scored more.
That’s more like it.
Now that we have Setanta, thanks to the Virgin/Sky spat, I have watched Football and Rugby all day.
Which means I have turned over the control of TV viewing to the Housemates.
It seems fair and guarantees viewing for tomorrow!
At the moment we are watching Mrs Brown, to be followed by Bright Young Things.
That will have to go on after Match Of The Day though.
‘Air Miles Sassy’ is in France for 2 weeks so I have been texting her results throughout the day.
She managed NOT to piss her cats off before she left this time, which was nice!

This evening we have sampled the first of the Sleepy Mansions Chillies.
(They can be seen in the corner of the picture in yesterday’s post)
Christ they are hot.
Quite a few Scovilles in those spiteful little fuckers.
I had a tiny taste and the burn was hellish.
So bad, I dived straight in the fridge for yoghurt.
The yoghurt and sporadic green and blue bits but the heat was so bad I had a spoonful anyway.
Then half a pint of milk.

PS.. I didn’t see MOTD.