Lincoln Beer Festival

Tags

entertainment, fun, happiness, life, musings, thoughts

Starts today….yippee!
Don’t expect many blogs out of me before Sunday.
One hundred different brews.
How does the song go?: “I’m in heaven……

Blighty

Tags

current-events, English, life, musings, parliamentary democracy, peace, politics, thoughts, war, war in the middle east

I come from the land that spawned Darwin, Austin, Shakespeare, Newton and Dickens.
But I also come from the land of Dyer, Thatcher, Mosley, Hindley and Shipman.
Every country has both good and bad people. Even if we can’t agree who belongs on good or bad lists, we’d like to think that our customs, national identity and value systems were forged by the good ones. I have a sense of belonging here and even a sense of pride in some aspects of my heritage, though why I should be proud of events I had no hand in confuses me.
I am English by an accident of birth: I claim no agency.
I am genuinely pleased to see English/British/U.K. teams do well. For example, I was chuffed for Chelsea last week, even though my allegiance lies with Man Utd.
That is all predictable enough, one might think. But when I hear of the things that “we” have done in the world, suddenly, I don’t feel that “we” includes me anymore.
Of course, I understand that the business of government means making decisions, some of them not pleasant ones. We have a parliamentary democracy because it is not practical to commission populace-wide referenda on every question. But a democratically elected government is supposed to represent the electorate (or the “we”), isn’t it? So I ask: do “we” really want to be embroiled in yet another war in the Middle East?

I detect efforts to massage public opinion towards military action against Iran. I think we are only in the early stages, but the efforts are slowly becoming that little bit more persistent and forceful. I think that this is a good time to show what “we” think. Let’s have the value system of the good guys.

Butty Wagon

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, Skegness Latest News, thoughts, work

The butty wagon arrives outside my office at around 0915 each working day. Under normal circumstances, I don’t partake but I missed my breakfast this morning.  I can resist anything except temptation, so the lure of a hot butty had me hook, line and sinker.

Me: “May I have a sausage and bacon, please?”

Butty wagon lady: “I’m sorry, we only have bacon and sausage left.”

Me: “That’s OK, I’ll stand the other side of it.”

Prosopagnosia

Tags

life, musings, psychology, thought processes, thoughts

“a disorder of face perception where the ability to recognize faces is impaired”

I did a test online and passed with flying colours.  I can pick John Lennon, Tricky Dicky Nixon, Bob Marley and Desmond Tutu out of a line-up no problem.  But ask me to remember someone I met last week and I’m useless.  I’m just as bad with names.  It’s not just laziness or disinterest on my part.  Even when it’s really in my best interest to remember someone, I can’t do it.  The harder I try, the worse it gets.

I’ve developed some strategies to help me cope.  I scan the faces of folk if I’m walking the streets, to see if they show signs of recognising me.  Often, there are clues in the conversation that strikes up.  Sometimes, I can get clues from where people are situated.  If I meet someone somewhere unexpected however, I’m totally lost.

Maeve and I bumped into a bloke in Lincoln town centre a few weeks back.  He obviously knew me as he was asking about my brewing exploits and after Smudge’s wellbeing.  When we’d said our goodbye’s, Maeve asked “who was that?” and I had to admit that I had not the first clue.

It can be rather embarrassing at times.  It’s horrible when a number of people meet and I’m the only common acquaintance: then I’m expected to introduce everyone (not a hope in hell!).

We’re all supposed to wear security passes at work.  This is a great bonus for me because it means everyone is labelled, in theory at least.  The snag is that many of the women wear their passes on their chests.  There is little point in trying to deny lascivious intent when you’re caught staring at a young lady’s chest for the third time in a morning.

I am sure there are many folk who I have offended.  I’m not aloof or unfriendly but I’m sure there are many who must think me so.  I don’t blame them: I’m sure I would arrive at the same conclusion in their position.  Maybe it’s not my fault though.

Sex?!

Tags

humour, joke, life, love, marriage, musings, relationships, sex, thoughts

I have nothing against sex, doctor………..
.
….but this maniac wants it two or three times a year!

Baking Bread

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

The best way to get your finger nails clean.

Ken’s Leaving Do

Tags

fun, life, musings, thoughts, work

Kenny Bowman is leaving Business Excellence to head our Taqa team. So we thought we should mark the occasion with a curry last night.  We don’t need much to prompt us to be out on the razzle! A good time was had by all. This photo was taken at the Royal Tandoori on Lincoln High Street.

(left to right: Me, Claire Johnson, Ken Bowman, Duncan Clark, Sarah Wilds, Sally Picksley, Kim Hayes)

Marshmallow and cocktail stick tower

Tags

fun, humour, life, musings, thoughts

We had a games night at the wine circle last night. Maeve had organised a few games to keep us entertained. The best one (IMHO) was a competition for the tallest free-standing structure using only marshmallows and cocktail sticks.

The secrets to success are fairly obvious: you need a lattice of trianglar pyramids and to cut the marshmallows up to reduce weight.  The practice was very different.  We had a number of collapses before the winner emerged, clocking 13.5″ high.  All very entertaining, if you don’t take it too seriously!

Virtue never tested……..

Tags

behaviour, life, love, musings, relationships, sex, Temptation, thoughts

……..is no virtue at all! (I’m familiar with this saying from a Billy Bragg song. I don’t know whether it was originally his.)
Or, put another way, we can’t be good without temptation.

Pulchritude

Tags

beauty, life, love, marriage, musings, relationships, sex, thoughts, wedding

“That quality of appearance which pleases the eye; beauty; comeliness; grace; loveliness”.
Pulchritude is not a word one hears very often these days but I like to apply it to my lovely wife Maeve.  We’ve been together for almost twelve years now and I still bless the day I met her. She is, by far, the best thing that ever happened to me. I said in my wedding speech that beauty is only skin deep but Maeve is gorgeous right to the bone!  And it’s so true: she has such a caring nature, I am humbled by her goodness.

Free Will

Tags

decisions, life, psychology

Where does it come from? Does it really exist?
Let me say from the outset that my experience is likely to be very similar to yours. It feels to me as though I am execising my free will. But consider this thought experiment for a moment. Think about the “mechanisms” you use to make your decisions. By mechanisms I mean your brain and its contents, the things you inherited and the things you learned. How many of those can you truely say that you are responsible for? It seems to me that they are all given and, if this is so, how can I be responsible for the decisions they make? I don’t claim to know the answer but I’m uncomfortable with the accepted wisdom. Do we believe that our mental processors are somehow more than the sum of their parts?

Sexuality

Tags

life, self-esteem, self-image, sex, sex 2

I’m pretty sure that it’s different for women and men. Straight blokes seem to have a dreadful fear of seeming gay. I think I do too, though it was much more powerful when I was younger. Is male sexuality more fragile?
Recall the adverts for men’s underware in mail order catalogues. Whenever there is more than one man in a photo, they’re studiously ignoring each other’s bodies. Often, they’re pointing and looking at something off-camera (there’s the chap whose got our trousers!). Women seem much less self-conscious. It’s not unusual to hear a woman say that another woman is beautiful but it’s virtually unheard of for a straight man to speak that way about another bloke.
I don’t understand what women find attractive in men at all! I wish someone could explain it all to me.

Musical Intelligence

Tags

Control, Intelligence, Music, psychology, Self-control, Training

I’m not sure that I know a way to blog this without sounding incredibly pompous so, as ever, in I plunge!
I play the guitar. I’m not very good but I enjoy it and ultimately I only have to please myself. I’m not gifted, musically speaking, so it took a long time and a lot of hard work for me to learn. One of the most difficult things to master is the discipline of making one’s hands and fingers perform quite different tasks concurrently and in sync. I feel that learning that discipline has given me a different kind of intelligence. I’m struggling to find a better way to describe it. Maybe intelligence is the wrong word: perhaps right brainedness would be closer. I think it improves my ability to concentrate on more than one thing at the same time. Do any other musicians out in cyberland get the same feeling?

Reality

Tags

Experience, Language, life, Perception, Reality, Universe, World

What is reality?  The accepted wisdom seems to be that it is our experience of the World around us.  But “our” is the big word here. How do we know that we share the same experience?  We use a common language to describe it but that doesn’t mean it is the same experience.  In this instance, the shared language is a “papering over the cracks” exercise, hiding the differences in what we feel.  If your experience differs from mine, whose is right and whose is wrong?  If they’re both right, are we in the same Universe?

Fashion

Tags

behaviour, decisions, fashion, life, psychology, rants, Self-control, self-esteem, self-image, thoughts

A fool and his (or her) money are easily parted, I hear.  Is fashion the mechanism?
Good quality, serviceable items are allegedly unusable because they are “out”.  Ridicule and scorn must be thrown at anyone caught wearing last year’s garments.  We pay massive mark-ups on the price of a tee-shirt, so we can give free advertising to the manufacturer, by sporting his name on our chests.
I don’t mean to preach.  In spite of my best efforts, I am far from immune.  But I ask: what sense does any of it make?

Change

Tags

behaviour, decisions, Experience, life, plans, psychology, rants, Self-control, thoughts

You’re not satified with things as they are, right? Well, that’s only natural: there’s always room for improvement. So what will you do? The answer to this question (generally speaking, present company excepted, of course) is a big fat NOTHING! If you want a different output, then you need a different input. Do not expect change to result from your carrying on regardless. We all do it from time to time. I’m guilty as well.
It’s so easy to get stuck in the rut when you should be ploughing a fresh furrow. You need to grab the bull by the horns, grasp the nettle, take the first step and all those other uplifting if slightly vague platitudes. Most of all what you need is a plan. Don’t wait for change to come to you: make it happen.

Work

Tags

behaviour, Experience, life, psychology, rants, thoughts, work

I enjoy my job. It barely feels like work at all: more like a hobby really. Today is my final day before two weeks vacation. I feel good about that. There seems to be a logical inconsistancy here. If I enjoy my job and look forward to being here, how can I relish not coming? I guess I just like change for change’s sake.

Libya

Tags

democracy, freedom, Libya, musings, peace, politics, rants, thoughts, war

Good to see the Libyans look like they’re free of Gaddafi at long last. The media seem to be using “democracy” and “feedom” as though the two words are interchangeable. I hope the Libyans are wise enough to know they are not.

Media

Tags

law, life, media, peace, rants, thoughts, war

Who tells you what is going on in the World?  Do you ever speak with anyone from beyond your own borders?  Do you trust “the Media” to keep you informed?  If we never speak to folk in other countries, are we vulnerable to being misled?  What agenda do “the Media” have?

I worry about the number of conflicts in the World, particularly the ones the UK is involved in.  I am deeply troubled by the levels of support for the UK’s involvement shown by “the Media”.  I want to make clear that I am not talking about support for our troops but about support for the political decisions that put them in the conflict.  In whose interest is the UK’s involvement in Afganistan, Libya, Iraq?  How do the politicians convince us that it is in our interest to support these ventures?

Why isn’t peace in everyone’s interest?

Patriot

Tags

Experience, life, peace, rants, thoughts, war

Countries: aptly named! “My” country is an accident of my birth. Who is my brother: a factory worker in Germany, an office worker in Japan, Richard Branson, the vagrant who lives under the canal bridge? When “we” go to war, who are “our” troops fighting for? “Protecting our way of life” is a phrase bandied in the media but we don’t share a common way of life. So am I paying taxes so the military can keep Branson in his mansion and the vagrant under the canal bridge?

Bad Language

Tags

Language, life, musings, rants, thoughts

If a “swareword” has an equivalent “non-swareword”, and they both mean the same thing, how can one be offensive and the other not? Why is “arse” vulgar, “bum” slightly so, and “bottom” polite? If someone told you to “illicit sexual intercourse off”, you’d laugh at them. If I use a word that is clearly intended to offend or shock or both, why would you fall for it? I recall a (I think tongue in cheek) campaign in the 1970s to bring “fuck” into polite usage. Doesn’t this throw into relief the abject meaninglessness of it all?

Occasional table

Tags

humour, life, rants, thoughts

What is it the rest of the time?

Simple Pleasures

Tags

Experience, life, psychology, thoughts

I saw a woodpecker yesterday. He (or she: I can’t tell) perches on the dead tree in the waste land behind my garden from time to time. I’ve seen him before (I’m assuming he is the same one). I’m no ornithologist but I think he’s a greater spotted and so not particularly rare if not quite “common or garden”. But he gave me a lift; made me feel good; brightened my day. I cannot justify the euphoria of seeing him logically: there is no perceivable benefit to me from his visit. Maybe I analyse too much. I should just smile and be thankful for the simple pleasures!

Weird Phrases

Tags

English, grammar, Language, life, musings, rants, speech, standards, thoughts

Will someone tell me, please, what is wrong with the phrase “I said”? Why do I see “I went” or “I was like” used in lieu? It seems so slovenly to me. I hate to appear straight-laced or restrictive in my thinking but surely some standards of English are worth maintaining?

Don’t turn around!

Tags

English, Language, musings, rants, standards, thoughts

There’s a phrase in everyday speech that I find most irritating: “…turned around and said….”. What is the difference between this and good old plain “said”? What quality does turning around confer on the speech that follows? I suspect it means nothing and I’d like to launch, here and now, a campaign to stamp it out of our language.
Please sign up here!

Do you follow the religion of your parents?

Tags

life, musings, parents, rants, religion, thoughts

If so, why? Is it a coincidence or did they talk you into it? Is it a convenience, a path of least resistance? Do you believe the religion you follow is better than the others? Is your religion under threat from others? If so, what will you do to defend it? How far will you go? Will you go to war? If your parents followed a different religion, would you follow that one instead? What would you do to defend that one?

Is advertising dishonest?

Tags

life, musings, psychology, rants, thoughts

Billions are spent on advertising each year, all over the World. It seems reasonable to suppose that a significant proportion of this spending is effective, that is, delivers a return in sales and profits. So it follows that we “the public” are modified by the adverts we see and are buying things we would not buy but for the adverts. Now I think I’m immune to adverts. I believe I have the intelligence to buy only what I need. But I guess everyone else thinks the same. We can’t all be right. So we are being manipulated to buy things we would not otherwise buy. Is that honest?

Conjuctivitis.com

Tags

humour, life, musings, rants, thoughts

Now there’s a site for sore eyes!
(sorry, I couldn’t resist)

Bastard

Tags

life, musings, rants, thoughts

How could ”bastard” be an insult? How could anyone hold a person responsible for what happened before they were born?

Life Is Sex

Tags

life, love, relationships, reproduction, sex, sex 2

..and sex is life. Consider the simplest forms of life. They are not much more than complex molecules. They are considered to be organisms and “alive” because they are able to reproduce.

Absolute truth…..

Tags

life, musings, rants, thoughts, truth

……..does it (can it) exist? We’ve had relativity since 1905. We’ve had Heisenberg and uncertainty since 1925. We’re still arguing about trees falling in forests. What’s true for you isn’t necessarily true for me. If your experience of an event differs from mine, whose, if any, is correct?

Outside the box……..

Tags

happiness, life, musings, rants, thoughts

…………..is a good way to think. It is much easier to stick with the “tried and trusted”; the accepted wisdom; status quo. But the World is a mess. Maybe we need something more radical to make a difference.

Democracy, for example. Is it really the answer? Churchill said it was the worst form of government apart from all the others that had been tried. Is that an excuse to stop trying?
Freedom is another challenge. Freedom is good whilst folk are able to correctly identify where their best interests lie.  You wouldn’t give freedom to a child or a lunatic because they would likely hurt themselves or others. So-called responsible adults take drugs, drink alcohol, start wars, gamble, smoke, contract HIV, steal, rape, pass iniquitous laws, vote BNP.  Do they realise where their best interests lie?

When you’re engrossed in the “slings and arrows” of daily life, it can be difficult to take a step back and see the bigger picture.  Where are we? Where are we trying to get to?  Are we really moving towards our goal?

Economically speaking, our route to efficiency is through competition.  There is relentless pressure for growth and cost reduction.  I don’t see much hope for contentment.  Isn’t the real goal happiness for all?

Is your perfect partner perfect?

Tags

happiness, life, love, musings, rants, relationships, sex, sex 2, thoughts

I wake up early. Generally, I lie in bed and indulge in pleasant day-dreams until the alarm goes off at 0545. A recurring theme in these dreams is “my perfect woman”. Of recent, a puzzling question has interrupted the otherwise pleasant flow: would my perfect woman be perfect? And, if not, what imperfection(s) would make her perfect for me? I have made little progress with this: I’m no closer to an answer than I was when the question first occurred to me. So I thought I would throw the question open to the denizens of WordPressLand. Would your perfect partner be perfect and, if not, what imperfection would make him/her perfect for you?

Naked Men

Tags

behaviour, Experience, life, musings, rants, self-esteem, self-image, sex, sex 2, thoughts

I believe I’ve detected a change in the changing room. Because I’m straight, it’s not something that I normally take a lot of notice of. But I’m sure I remember that blokes walked about the changing room naked without any self-consciousness. Now I see most wrapping a towel, using a cubicle, some even getting showered in underwear! This seems weird and rather sad to me.  I can’t help but wonder what triggered this change?

My body is not remarkable.  It’s unlikely to produce lust or revulsion in anyone.  It’s just a body: everybody has one!  I don’t think twice about being naked in the changing room.

Do you think this is a real trend I’ve witnessed or is it isolated to the gym I use?  If it’s not isolated, can anyone hazard a guess at the cause?

Just Call Me Tiny

Tags

economics, life, musings, peace, politics, rants, thoughts, war, work

The company I work for has declared that they expect/hope to reach an annual turnover of one billion Euro this financial year (i.e. by Sept 2012).
I feel rather small and insignificant when talking about such huge figures. My salary for the same period will be circa 0.005% of €1B. The scale of this overwhelms me.
We’ve stopped exporting to Iran. It used to be a big market for us but apparently we can’t remain on the US stock markets and still deal with the Iranians.  I cannot attest to where the decision to comply with US pressure and abandon our market comes from.  I’m way too far down the corporate ladder to be involved.

I notice there’s been a tit-for-tat banishing of diplomats in UK and Iran.  I hope the silly bastards are not organising another war.  All of the Iranians I met seemed such pleasant folk.  As ever, it won’t be Ayatollahs or Prime Ministers getting blown to bits.

Rude Joke

Tags

joke, life, musings, rants, sex, sex 2, thoughts

What do we want?

A cure for Tourette’s!

When do we want it?

Cunt!

True Meaning of Christmas

Tags

Christmas, life, musings, religion, thoughts, travel

Christians do a fair bit of moaning about what Christmas has become in the modern world: the commercialisation, the boozing, &c. I take their point but I think it is worth remembering that Christmas was originally a pagan mid-winter festival that the Christians hijacked and perverted to their own ends. The same is true of Easter. At least with Christmas they had the good grace to change the festival’s name.
No-one in their right mind believes that Caesar decreed all his subjects should go to the town of their birth to be registered in the middle of Winter, when the travel would have been so problematic.

Christmas Pun

Tags

Christmas, joke, musings, rants, thoughts

Is the recent spate of Christmas tree thefts a case of Copse & Robbers?

Sex Imbalance

Tags

behaviour, happiness, life, musings, parents, rants, sex, sex 2, thoughts

“Don’t you know that it’s different for girls?” said the song.  Well, yes, I do.  And I think I understand why too: it is, indirectly, a price we pay for being at the top of the animal kingdom.  Our development is protracted: we produce incredibly vulnerable offspring, gestating and nursing females.  The defence against this vulnerability is the caring bond between parents.  The love between man and woman is not an accident, it’s a survival imperative and one of the reasons we’re here.  Most (if not all) of the emotion, courtship, pairing, bonding, jealousies, lusts that we deal with in modern life build from this same base.  Women have an innate demand for support from their sexual partners and need reassurance before indulging in sex.  It’s not wrong (or right), it’s written into our beings.

I think sex is like rock-climbing: potentially very dangerous but, with the right equipment and people you can trust, exciting, fulfilling, and fun!  Sometimes, the additional requirements of women can feel quite restrictive and frustrating.  History is chock full of the conflicts this can produce.  I know even apparently “normal” men, who resent the power that women have over them.  The trade of the prostitute (and the stigma, persecution, law associated with it) is built upon the imbalance between the sexual desire in men and women.  (Yes, I know there are male prostitutes too!)

For obvious and selfish reasons, I wish women wanted more sex than they do.  I guess most blokes do.  I don’t expect anything to change anytime soon.  I reject absolutely any attempt to coerce women.  So, what is the way forward?  I don’t really see one.  I think a little understanding helps….. but not much!

Learn to argue.

Tags

behaviour, Experience, happiness, life, musings, peace, rants, Self-control, self-esteem, standards, thought processes, thoughts

I see otherwise loving people wounding each other, because they don’t know how to argue. An arguement can be a constructive instrument if it’s conducted in the right frame mind. We will always disagree about things: that’s just human.  How can we do it without destroying a relationship?

A few hints that might help:
1. One of you doesn’t need to be right and the other wrong, just because you disagree. What’s right for one isn’t necessarily right for all: there are very few (if any) absolute truths.

2. Try to avoid words that show him/her to be wrong and seek the common ground.  You may be argueing about details or a difference of emphasis.

3. Try to separate the issue from the person. Don’t let an arguement get personal, if you can help it.

4. If things get heated, suggest a cooling off period and a reconvene. This could also be used to investigate any “facts” that are in dispute.  DO NOT lose your temper.

5. Listen! If things are getting edgy, try to hear the message behind the hurt.

6. Try not to be judgemental.  There’s a reason for everything (not always a good one, I grant you) and so there’s a reason for him/her taking the position she/he has.

7. Try to avoid thinking about winning and losing.  Focus instead on trying to find the best solution for all.  This can be very difficult but seek help from your arguee if you can.  Ask for a vision of what perfection would look like.

8.  They say you should never go to bed on an arguement.  I’d challenge this.  I think sleeping on things can help you cool down and get perspective.  Whatever works for you is best.

9. Ask yourself “how important is it? can we agree to disagree without significant legacy?”

10. Last, but not least, ask yourself “is it worth the upset I will cause if I continue to hold my position?”  Seriously consider capitulation.

Let’s stick together!

Tags

behaviour, Experience, happiness, humour, life, love, musings, rants, sex, sex 2, thoughts

I am blessed with an exothermic wife. Maeve can eat and drink whatever she likes and never gets any heavier. I’ve seen more fat on a butcher’s pencil! She still has the figure she had when she was twenty, now she’s forty-seven.
The downside is that she generates huge amounts of heat. This is great to keep me warm in cold weather but when she rolls over and cuddles up in her sleep, she cooks me. I sweat like a pig and, if I don’t kick her off, we end up glued together.

I probably shouldn’t complain: I think these are the right kind of problems.

Singers

Tags

decisions, Music, rants, Talent, Talent Contest, thoughts

Folk I know can sing. Many of them don’t have good voices but I can’t think of anyone who is incapable of singing a note. Most can give a reasonable rendition of a song. I don’t think singing is a rare talent.
Not many folk I know can play a musical instrument.  I think this is a much rarer talent.  Rarer still is the ability to arrange a piece of music: to sort out the various instruments and vocalists, decide who plays what and when.  I don’t know anyone who is capable of this.  I am very poor at it.

Television is awash with talent contests.  In these contests, vocalists are held in high esteem, musicians are occasionally mentioned, arrangers are never mentioned.  This makes no sense to me.  Can anyone offer an explanation for this apparently counter-intuitive logic?

Naked

Tags

behaviour, glamour, life, musings, naked, nude, nudity, photography, self-image, sex, sex 2, standards, strip, thoughts

Everybody has a body: no great news there.
Who does your body belong to?  It belongs to you, of course.
So who has the right to tell you what you can or cannot do with your body?  No-one.

Who has the right to say who you can or cannot show your body to.  Assuming you’re not forcing it on anyone, again, no-one has that right.
If Veena Malik wants to strip for FHM, who has the right to stop her, or tell her she can’t, or persecute her for doing so?  No-one.

Pick Yourself Up

Tags

humour, joke, musings, thoughts

I saw this, liked it, thought I’d share it with my WordPress chums.

Search by Tag

Tags

help, musings, question, rants, thoughts, wordpress

Can anyone please tell me how to search all posts, filtered by tag, on this site now? Since they made changes, I can’t find anything!

Stop Insulting Santa!

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings

He’s a very nice old man who brought me lots of presents! He’s definitely not grotto.

Lost It?

Tags

behaviour, Experience, life, musings, relationships, self-image, sex, thoughts

Have I lost it?

I was listening to Dara O’Briain describing how he found himself in the company of a group of young women (quite innocently) and was alarmed to discover absolutely no sexual tension in the air whatsoever.  I guess he’s fortyish and the women were eighteen to twentyish?

I think I understand where he’s coming from.  There was a time when women used to check me out: I’m sure of it.  I’m no “looker” now and I don’t think I was then either but there was still that possibility hanging in the air; that “maybe”; that fantasy of excitement.  Even when both the women I met and I knew that there was no chance/opportunity/desire/reason for any kind of liaison, the mere fact that the mental question had to be posed and answered was a stimulation.

So where am I now?  Has all of that really gone?  It seems so.  Could it be that it takes on a different form, or is that just wistful thinking on my part?

Stop Fighting

Tags

life, peace, politics, rants, religion, Skegness Latest News, war, World

A new year: is it a good time to ask for a new approach?
If history teaches anything, it’s that fighting rarely solves anything. When the fight is over, we have to talk to the folk we were fighting with. Isn’t it better to quit the fight now and launch a dialogue?
How we love to maintain and justify our entrenched positions! It is madness to suppose that repeating the actions of the past will have a different outcome in the future. The only people who benefit are the arms manufacturers.

Remember: the folk we are killing think they are right.  They may or may not be, but killing them won’t change their minds.  More likely, we produce yet another generation of fighters and haters, more entrenched positions, more legacy to unravel, more violence to be visited upon the next generation.  What kind of a world would you like to donate to your children?

Posh Way To Serve Lawn Clippings?

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, rants, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

Cut Grass Decanter.

To God

Tags

fun, happiness, humour, joke, life, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

There was a man who worked for the Post Office whose job was to process all the mail that had illegible addresses.

One day, a letter came addressed in a shaky handwriting to God with no actual address. He thought he should open it to see what it was about.

The letter read:

Dear God,

I am an 83 year old widow, living on a very small pension.

Yesterday someone stole my purse. It had €100 in it, which was all the money I had until my next pension payment.

Next Sunday is Christmas, and I had invited two of my friends over for dinner. Without that money,

I have nothing to buy food with, have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope.. Can you please help me?

Sincerely, Edna

The postal worker was touched.. He showed the letter to all the other workers. Each one dug into his or her wallet and came up with a few pounds.

By the time he made the rounds, he had collected €96, which they put into an envelope and sent to the woman.

The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of Edna and the dinner she would be able to share with her friends.

Christmas came and went.

A few days later, another letter came from the same old lady to God.

All the workers gathered around while the letter was opened.

It read:

Dear God,

How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me?

Because of your gift of love, I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends. We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful gift.

By the way, there was €4 missing.

I think it might have been those bastards at the post office.

Sincerely, Edna

(my wife sent me this. I’ve no idea where she found it but I liked it and thought I’d share it with you all)

I’m in love!

Tags

life, love, Music, musings, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

Yes, it’s with an inanimate object and I realise that’s a bit weird. Well, a lot weird really. But it is a beautiful guitar, with a mellow tone and fantastic finish. It feels so comfortable in my lap: I don’t want to put it down.
If only I had the talent and musical ability to make it sound the way it could and should! Sigh………….

For those interested in the detail, its a Tanglewood TW155AS Semi-acoustic Six String, circa £350 new.

Sex Public Image

Tags

behaviour, Experience, life, love, musings, rants, relationships, sex, sex 2, thoughts

Does sex have a bad image?
I wonder about the words we use: dirty, sinful, lascivious, rude, filthy, lecherous, corrupting.
Surely sex is good, wholesome, natural, fulfilling and fun?
Why do we give it such poor write up?

Odds On Mr/Ms Right.

Tags

behaviour, dating, happiness, life, musings, relationships, sex, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

We all like to believe our perfect partner is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered, don’t we? I guess it’s just one of those harmless daydream fantasies that we harbour.  So what are the chances that you will meet him/her?

The global population is estimated at seven billion: that’s a lot of people to check out!  OK, I’m going to assume that your requirement is gender specific, i.e. you’re looking for a man or you’re looking for a woman, not either will do.  So immediately we can reject 3.5 billion souls.

Next, we have to consider age.  This is complex.  You need to meet your perfect person when 1. you’re available, 2. he/she is available, 3. you’re in an age range that he/she finds acceptable, 4. he/she is in an age range that you find acceptable.  I can’t give you the odds on this because 1. it’s beyond my maths, 2. I don’t know your parameters and 3.  I don’t know the parameters of your perfect person.  Suffice to say, we probably reduced the available pool massively.

Then think about how many new people you meet in a year.  Of course, this depends upon where you live and your lifestyle.  If you live in a big city, you’re out and about most evenings, and you don’t stick to the same haunts, you might meet a thousand new people each year (my guess).  If you live in a hamlet in the Hebrides, irrespective of how often you go out you might only meet two new ones each year (again, my guess).

Next, an even bigger problem: how will you know?  If your parameters for Mr/Ms Perfect are visually based, then “eyes across a crowded room” are probably enough.  But the whole thing about being perfect is that it’s in every department, isn’t it?  So looks are not enough.  Your perfect someone must be imbued with character, knowledge, sexual preference and prowess, and so forth.  So he/she is likely to walk right by you, without your knowledge, unless you have psychic ability.

Perhaps, even bigger still, you have to “break the ice”.  You suspect you might have found him/her.  There he/she is, right in front of you.  Will you speak, or wait for him/her to?  What will you say?  Are you nervous?  Maybe this is your “once in a lifetime chance”: will you grab it or let it slip away?.  Will you try to impress but actually say something dumb that slams the door shut?

What are the odds for all these elements to come together, at the right time and place?  I don’t know but I suspect they’re very very long.

Bizarre Insult

Tags

humour, insult, joke, life, musings, thoughts

You’re the kind of man who can control his eyebrows.

You make the place look untidy.

Everything you say comes out backwards.

You speak to me like water off a duck’s back.

I once had a pet like you.

You give me a sore throat in my eye.

Your ancestors must have arrived later.

They have a job for names like you.

You’re neither arse-hole nor water-cress.

You could talk the hind legs off a donkey.

You’ve more to say than you have to eat.

Please feel free to suggest additions (this is an invitation, not an insult).

Hey Good Looking

Tags

behaviour, body images, Experience, images of men, life, musings, rants, self consciousness, Self-control, self-esteem, self-image, Skegness Latest News, skinny models, thought processes, thoughts

I recall Frank Zappa asking his audience “Is there anyone out there who thinks they’re good looking, y’know: you think you’re kinda cute? Well, you’d better watch out, ‘cos there are a hell of lot more of us ugly motherfuckers about.”

Broadblogs responded to my post “Naked Men” suggesting that the self-consciousness I was witnessing was a result of the idealised body images of men portrayed in the media.  This is a problem more commonly associated and discussed in relation to women.  The skinny models/anorexia/young women’s suicides debate has been raging for decades.

I understand that positive self-image and self-esteem are a large component of mental health.  We need to feel good about ourselves in order to be able to function as “normal” human beings.

The natural progression of these arguements is to say that the media are making us ill.  If that’s true, why do we let it happen?  “The media” are people too: do they suffer the same fate?  Who has anything to gain from creating a narrow tolerance of what a body should look like?  It’s hard to believe that the models are responsible for its promotion, since they seem to suffer their own torture to maintain the way they look.  Is this trend bigger than its players and impossible to deflect or stop?  Is there a way to break the cycle?

Now then!

Tags

behaviour, Experience, fun, humour, joke, Language, life, musings, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

I’ve been living in Lincolnshire for just over six years now. I am not sorry that I moved from Nottingham. The district that Maeve and I were living in (Bulwell) was full of Neanderthalls. Folk here are very friendly and we’ve been made very welcome. My neighbours are helpful and I really like the people I work with.
Lincolnshire folk have their indiosyncrasies: well, we all do. I guess this was a largely agricultural area until the quite recent past and I think you can still feel that bubbling up in their attitudes and ways, from time to time. I find it pleasant, reassuring, quaint even, though I don’t mean that in a patronising way.

There is one thing that I find rather odd though, even now, and that is the way Lincolnshire folk greet each other.  They don’t say hello, or good morning, or hi, or how do you do?, or how are you?  They say Now then!  Is that weird, or what?

Oral Sex

Tags

Experience, fun, happiness, life, love, musings, relationships, sex, sex 2, thoughts

Allow me first to make clear that I am speaking of F/M. I have no experience of M/M or F/F or F/F/M or any other combination.
I’ve arrived at the realisation that I prefer oral sex to anything else, particularly a 69. I can imagine giving up penetrative sex altogether.

I love to give oral because:

1. I can see and feel exactly what I’m doing.

2. It is the most effective method I’ve found to help my partner to orgasm.

I love to receive oral because:

1. It seems the most perfect and total acceptance of me by my partner.

2. It feels absolutely wonderful.

3. I don’t lose control, i.e. I don’t rush to orgasm before I’m ready.

I don’t need deep throat or CIM.  I think these might be porn industry invents anyway and I can’t see any benefit.

I’d be interested to hear some feedback on this issue, from both men and women, if you’re not too shy, please.  How does oral rate against penetrative sex for you?  Do you prefer 69 or take it in turns?  Do you also experience better control?

Driving Etiquette

Tags

behaviour, driving, etiquette, good manners, life, musings, rants, thoughts, work

Why are drivers so ill mannered?
How can folk spend all day in the office being courteous, thoughtful and kind; “after you”; standing aside; consideration personified; then climb in behind the wheel at 1730 to become homicidal, kill you to shave two seconds off my journey, “after me”?

Remember the last time you were involved in an road traffic accident of any kind?  Remember the hassle at the time; the wrangles with insurers; the details you have to regurgitate every time you want a quote for the next five years?  Do the benefits of being in front of me really outweigh any of this?

And just think how you’re going to feel if someone is badly injured or killed.  Your car is potentially a very dangerous piece of equipment.  How many lives can be ruined or lost while you’re fighting your way through the traffic?

Really people: it’s not worth it.  Please, let’s be careful out there.

Whatever happened to…..

Tags

Experience, life, musings, relationships, self-image, thoughts

…me?
This photo shows my elder brother and sister with me. I’m guessing I must be about three or four years of age, so circa 1963.  Maybe I was still the youngest, before my two younger sisters arrived. 

It’s seems so strange looking back at that little lad, through fifty years: what befell him; all of the stupid, thoughtless, spiteful things he did; the events he witnessed; the dreams he chased; so much he didn’t understand until it was too late; time and money he wasted on trivia; the women he married.

I don’t think I have any regrets, not really.  If I had the chance to go back in time and warn him, what could I say?  Nothing that he could have understood.  I’ve heard folk say “if only I knew then, what I know now” but it’s not tenable: knowledge without wisdom is worthless.

So I’ve lived, I’ve survived and I’m generally happy with the journey so far.  There’s little point dwelling in a past I cannot alter.  I’ve learned a lot and that is as much as anyone can ask.  On to the next chapter………..

Why won’t you?

Tags

dating, life, love, musings, sex, sex 2, thoughts

I like sex,
I like everything about it,
I really get into the foreplay,
That gentle but insistent, building within,
The giving and receiving,
That ever present question,
Who’s doing what next?
Tingle and buzz within me,
Excitement more than I can contain,
Anticipation and fulfilment,
Fulfilment and contentment.

You like sex,
You love the attention,
You feel wanted and valued,
Wooed and pampered,
Controlled and controlling,
In charge, yet possessed,
Urgently seeking,
Release in your inner being.

I have good teeth,
I have strong hair,
I’m not fat or ugly,
I’m clean and healthy,
I’m reasonably fit and toned,
I stand 6’-4” tall.
I have long supple,
Sensitive, guitarist’s fingers.
And huge feet!

I’m not a selfish lover,
I’ll do all I can,
To help you find,
That special place,
I want you to be happy,
Can’t you feel,
The need in me?

You’re going to,
Turn me down.
Why?

Daftest Sales Pitch

Tags

advertising, adverts, humour, joke, life, musings, rants, thoughts

I responded to serene32′s blog about a cretin who sold her a skirt by telling her it wasn’t creased after it was ironed.
This got me thinking about dumb things I’ve seen in adverts.
I’ve written before about the dishonest practices of advertisers. Particularly, the technique of saying nothing with what appears to be a bold claim (“30% fewer fillings” springs to mind).
Now I’m moving from the misleading to the plain dumb things they say.  My current favourite is “it’s our best ever formula“.  Strange that: I thought they would have developed a new formula, then reverted to some previous, inferior version!

So I’m inviting input from blogland on this: what’s the dumbest claim you’ve heard or seen in an advert?

Amused Man

Tags

life, novel, relationships, sex, thoughts, writing

This is my novel.
It was also my first post on this site, August last year. My readership has grown a little since then. I hope no-one will mind me airing it again. All and any comment or feedback is welcome. Be (brutally) honest with me, please!
Thanks
Rob.

1.                  You will never know what it is to be me.  Similarly, I can never truly understand you.  I can try to imagine what being you must feel like but it must always be through the filter of my own experience.  I can point at a double-decker bus and we can agree that it is variously red, noisy, smelly, whatever, but I can never experience what “red” or “smelly” means to you.  Language is both convenient and limiting in equal measure.  It is too glib to assume a shared experience.

2.                  It is a day like any other.  I awake from a good dream that I cannot remember.  I lie on my back for a while, listening to my wife purring beside me and the birds insistent twittering from the garden, whilst my erection gently subsides in a contented sort of way.  Eventually, I summon the energy to fumble for the clock: 05:22.  OK for another ten minutes at least.  I let my mind wander.  It needs no second invitation.

3.                  I am cycling to work.  I can see a jogger in the distance, just coming over the canal bridge.  Long dark hair in a ponytail, tall and slim, bare arms.  We are coming together fast now.  She is pretty.  Suddenly, she is down with a sickening thud, writhing, holding her ankle, cursing “fuck, fuck, fuck.”  I pull up with a squeal of my brakes and drop my bike with a crash.  “Are you alright?”  How dumb is that?  You dozy sod: she is obviously far from all right, no skin on one elbow, jogging pants shredded, clutching her ankle, a grimace marring her lovely face.

4.                  Astrologers intrigue me.  I have nothing but distain for their theories but I confess a grudging respect for their ability to mislead the gullible.  They occupy the same mental receptacle as clergy, quack medics, politicians and double glazing salesmen.

5.                  She manages half a smile “I’ve twisted my ankle.”  I try to recover the situation.  “Just sit still a minute.”  I kneel beside her as she sits up.  “Do you want an ambulance?”  Her dark eyes flash at me.  “No, no, I’ll be OK, thanks, don’t worry.”  I feel helpless, I can see she is in pain and I want to help, she is breathing quite heavily.  My eyes are drawn to the rise and fall of her chest, the slight curve of her small breasts, flattened by her sports bra, the gentle curve revealed by her V-necked tee shirt: look away you fool!  I look her in the eye and she smiles at me again, beautiful teeth, full lips, no make-up but lots of natural colour. 

6.                  My Father flew DeHaviland Mosquitoes in Burma during the War.  My brother and I were inspired and enthused.  We built models, hoarded pictures, pestered to be taken to airshows and watched 633 Squadron over and over.  It was a magnificent aircraft: incredibly light, as it was constructed largely of plywood, and, with two huge Rolls Royce engines, very fast for the time.  It became “our aircraft” and we would argue and even fight in the playground with those who thought the Spitfire better.  I’m sitting in the doctors’ waiting room, reading an old magazine.  “The Mosquito saw no active service in Burma during WWII, due to its susceptibility to termite attack.”

7.                  I want to touch her.  “May I help you up?”  I stand as she reaches out and grabs my hand.  Her grip is firm and I tingle with excitement.  She rises beside me, heaving on my arm, then curses again as she tries to put her weight on her damaged ankle, hopping and wrenching at my arm.  “God, fuck, oh damn and fuck.”

8.                  There is no past and no future.  Only the present is real.  It is easy to create a mental image of the past stretching away behind and the future stretching away before us but this is self-delusion.  The mental image is happening now, we refer to our memories now, we read the history now.

9.                  “How far away do you live?”  I try.  She stops hopping and turns slowly back towards me on one leg, looking me in the eye intently, almost as if seeing me for the first time.  I feel examined, searched, interrogated, then she smiles again, what a beautiful smile, “Just over there.”  She wafts her other hand towards the terraced street beyond the canal but her eyes never leave mine.  There is a long pause, it seems like an age, I stand like a complete idiot and stare at her exquisite face while she stares back.  That stare is powerful, she is still smiling, but I feel like I’m being sliced through by a laser, I’m naked, my mind is being read and rearranged, my brains are turning to blancmange.

10.             We recognise people from where they sit.  We trust to a job title carried by a complete stranger.  I looked after my teeth: every six months I had a check-up and never once needed a filling.  At the age of twenty-four I married Helen, moved to a new home and signed on with a new dentist.  Over two years, five more check-ups and I needed a filling every time.  Suspicious, I changed my dentist again.  Now I’m fifty years old but still I only have five fillings.  No one else has felt the need to offer any treatment.  Any evidence of wrongdoing was obliterated by the charlatan’s drill.

11.             I try to escape.  I start to say “May I carry you home?” but it comes out like complete gibberish.  My tongue feels like it belongs to someone else!  She gives me a puzzled look, still half a smile but half a quizzical frown too, her head leans slightly to one side.  God but she’s gorgeous and she’s holding my hand!  I’m flustered and hot but I manage to make my mouth deliver “If you climb on my bike, I can roll you to your door.”  This is followed by a moment of torment; she is frowning hard now, still staring.  She is going to turn me down, say no and hop away on her own.  I’ll never see her again.  I can hardly breathe.  What can I do?  I feel panic taking hold, a prickle of fear at my neck, I fidget.

12.             Then, in a second, it has passed.  She is smiling at me again.  She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.  “Oh, would you?  That’s really nice.  Thank you so much.”  Then, almost dreamlike, I’m picking up my bike, she’s climbing on board, she holds my arm, then puts her hand around my shoulder.  I hold her around the waist, tight to me, and lift her aboard by swinging my hips under hers.

13.             We live in a bizarre world.  We deny ourselves and each other truths that are self-evident.  We studiously refuse to admit what we demonstrate daily: we are all animals.

14.             It feels a bit precarious; a wobble makes her stiffen against me as we cross the bridge.  She has her left arm across my shoulders and her right arm on the handlebars, leaning into me.  I have my left hand on the opposite bar and my left hand on the seat.  She laughs a glass wind-chime tinkle “Seeing as how you’ve got your hand on my bum, do you think you should tell me your name?”  I laugh too, struck by the irony.  “I’m David; sorry about the hand but stability is everything in these situations.”  She laughs again, what music!  “That has to be the lamest excuse for touching up a girl that I ever heard.”  “And may I enquire whose armpit I’m nestled into?”  “I’m Jenny, pleased to meet you.  I won’t offer my hand in case I fall off……besides, I think you’re happier with my bum.”  “Stop making me laugh: I’ll drop you!”

15.             Can anyone tell when we were last at peace with the World?  I don’t claim to be much of a historian but it seems to me we’ve been fighting somewhere for as long as I’ve been alive.  The little bits of history I know suggest it has always been thus.  I don’t subscribe to the “my country, right or wrong” view of these things.  If we’re always at war, we must be at fault somewhere.

16.             All too soon, we’re at her door.  I help her down and she finds her keys.  Steadying herself against the door jamb, she hops over the threshold and swivels on her good leg, back to face me.  Again, that glorious smile flashes “Thank you, my hero.”  “How’s the ankle?  You should get it in ice as soon as possible.”  “I don’t think it’s too serious but the ice sounds like a good idea.  Maybe you should return to check on your patient later.  What time are you passing back this way?”  “’Bout fourish”  “Well please call in, I’d like to give you something for your trouble.”  Something conspiratorial in her voice thrilled me but I felt I had to respond “Oh, it was no trouble; I can’t take your money.”  She stiffened in mock alarm, then, with a pout and a wink “Who said anything about money?  I’ll be waiting!” then she softly closed the door and I was alone.

17.             We think we live in our bodies and this is quite tenable, but consider an alternative.  In many ways, our bodies are merely processing units, gatherers of data.  We do not think of ourselves as living in a telephone or a computer, yet we similarly use these to process data.  We live in our minds, in our imaginations, in our dreams.

18.             Jenny looks at me intently, her lovely smile replaced by an austere scowl.  “Here comes the brush-off” I think, troubled and trepidacious.  “I need to ask you a question” she begins.  I nod nervously and she seems to soften.  “I don’t like men very much.  My ex was a complete arsehole and the few dates I’ve had since weren’t much better.  I don’t like men but I have a normal, healthy libido and I’m not a lesbian.  I don’t want anyone to live with or to take me out.  My independence is very important to me.  I don’t even need someone to talk to: I’ve got the girls for that.  All I really need is someone clean, discrete, attentive and able to give me a good shag from time to time.  I was wondering if you would be interested in taking the job on?”

19.             I am circling, high above the ground, which is misty and indistinct.  Slowly, I circle lower or the mist starts to clear and I can begin to make out some features on the ground.  Of particular interest is a large pale obelisk, which dominates the view, and, for reasons that are not apparent, is good and wholesome, makes me euphoric.  As I get closer, the obelisk seems bigger and my happiness grows.  This goes on for some time: I get closer and closer to the obelisk and my feelings of well-being increase.  Then, quite suddenly, I am aware that all is not well.  On the sides of the obelisk which, from a distance, had seemed clean, hard and pure, I can now see a movement.  As more detail is revealed, I see writhing, corruption, vile putrefaction, greasy maws, hooks, barbs and claws.  I want to look away, turn back, fly high but something compels me closer.  I cry and protest but my fate is sealed.

20.             “I know you said that you didn’t want someone to talk to, and I respect that, but good sex requires good communication.  We need to express our needs.”  Jenny nods so I continue “It is so easy for me to misinterpret the noises you make when we’re at it.  I can think I’m hitting the spot when actually I’m hurting you or I think I’m hurting and so stop when you want me to carry on.  I need some reliable feedback.  I don’t mean “did the earth move for you baby” or any of that kind of nonsense.  Each time, when we’re finished, could you just tell me what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you’d like more or less of, anything I failed to do that you wanted.  Would you be comfortable telling me that?”  She smiles and gently takes my hand in hers.  “Oh yes, you’re absolutely right to ask and I would have suggested it myself only….”

21.             She pauses and her smile fades.  I’m worried about what is coming next.  “…..only everything has been bloody fantastic so far and I didn’t want to risk changing anything.”  Her smile is back and I’m grinning from ear to ear.  She seems chuffed that I’m chuffed, all is well and she continues “As a general rule, up to the point you make me come, the gentler you are the better, but once I’ve come, you can do anything.”  She waits and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.  I’m worried by this last comment, afraid I might have misunderstood, so I ask “Anything?  Anything is a big word: don’t say anything unless you really mean anything.”  She gives me that slitty-eyed vixen look that churns my nether regions and says, with great aplomb, “I really mean anything.  I want you to do everything.  I want you to use me like a whore.”

22.             Whenever I catch a leprechaun, which isn’t often, I’m ready with my three wishes.  I am well prepared for the moment and he doesn’t look surprised.  I want a perfect body for evermore (you have to say “for evermore” and not “for ever” or he will make you live from the beginning of time, that is for fourteen billion years before anyone else is born!).  I want to be the best there ever has been, is now, or ever will be, at everything I do.  I want people to do whatever I tell them to.

23.             Jenny always wants more.  I have to go to work.  I have meetings to attend and I’ve been late twice already this week.  Now we’ve got into a routine, at least I can plan.  Her period lasts four days.  The following week she wants me every morning; weekdays that is: I can’t come at weekends.  Next week we’re down to two or three mornings.  By the third week, probably only once.  Week four we’re into PMT followed by period again, so I’m not invited.  Then back to the start.  We agreed an hour but that stretched to an hour and a half and now she’s interfering with me as I’m trying to get showered and dressed.  “For God’s sake woman, will you leave my dick alone and let me put my pants on!”

24.             Once people start doing what you say, all sorts of things become so much easier.  Pay rise, promotion, winning orders from customers, delegating work, indeed all of the things that could make pre-leprechaun work-days tedious, are immediately alleviated.  Setting up a harem is simplicity itself.  I just trail through the celebrity pages until I find one I fancy, call her up and tell her she lives with me now.  Then on to the next, and so on, until I have a big house full.

25.             Our feedback sessions seem to go well.  Jenny is not in the least inhibited about expressing her needs, I do my best to respond, she always notes my efforts and gives her appreciation.  Then, out of the blue, one morning, I’m towelling myself dry after my shower while she watches, sitting on the edge of her bath.  “You never tell me what you want.”  I consider for a moment, then “Well, that’s easy, it’s because you’re way in front of me.  You give me things I didn’t even know existed so I didn’t know I wanted.  You’re creating the need in me as you go along.”  She seems pleased with this but presses on.  “I want to give you more.  I want to fulfil your every fantasy.  Have a think about it for a few days and let me know.”

26.             Children and child birth are good and wholesome.  Wanting a family is a laudable aspiration.  Sex, lust and desire are dirty and nasty.  The old song says that love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage: you can’t have one without the other.  Test tube babies aside, the same is true of sex and children: two sides of the same coin.  The “babies good, sex bad” attitude makes no sense.

27.             Being the best at everything can be great but, I have to say, it can get tiresome as well.  Parky is interviewing me for the third time.  I tell him “Michael, once you’ve taken ten wickets, in ten deliveries, for no runs, against the best team the World has to offer, what else is there to do?”  He gives me that knowing smile of his that says in a smug way “oh yes, I quite understand”.  How many first class wickets has he taken, I wonder.

28.             “Sex is the reason we’re here, Archie.”  He looks puzzled.  He’s been a good pal of mine for many years and we always get on well but I know Archie doesn’t think the way I do.  That is not to suggest that he lacks intelligence, far from it: he just starts his logical process from a different place than I do.  He seeks clarification: “Do you mean “reason” as in how we came to be here or our purpose for being here?”  “They’re the same thing Archie: our only purpose is to donate the next generation.  It has always been so, for all species, since life began.  The only difference between the simplest form of life and a molecule is that the life form recreates itself.”  Archie doesn’t look convinced.

29.             Toilets have always worried me.  Infant school upsets me: kids climbing over the cubicle walls whilst I’m trying to poo are most alarming.  The loos do not have flip-up seats like those at home but two crescents of grubby wood, permanently bolted to the sides.  My skinny little bum does not span from one piece of wood to the other, so I perform an uncomfortable farrago of squats, cantilevers and perches on the cold porcelain.  Izal loo roll is a nightmare!  “Medicated” is written in green on the corner of each sheet.  Even though I’m quite a good reader for my age, this is not a word that communicates much.  Eventually I surmise that it must mean “totally non-absorbent, fold into a spatula”.

30.             We’re at the back door.  I’m leaving for work; Jenny opens the door and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.  I step out into the yard and pick my bike from its place, leaning against the kitchen wall.  She hasn’t closed the door, as normal, but is leaning against the jamb, watching me.  “Any chance you could come a little sooner tomorrow?”  “I guess so, why?”  “Wait and see” and she is gone.

31.             The more we are threatened, the more we must defend ourselves.  Defence spending is easy to justify when there are hoards, baying for your blood, just beyond your borders.  Our brave lads need our support.  The public purse is at the mercy of sabre-rattlers.  If you want a slice of the pie, simply threaten, in order to be threatened in return.

32.             “You didn’t tell me what you wanted, so I had to guess”.  We’re sitting on her bed, both naked, just about to start.  This is unusual: normally, we don’t speak until afterwards.  “I don’t understand”.  She tries again, exasperated with me, impatient “I asked you to tell me your fantasies, but you didn’t come back with any, so I’ve had to guess.  I got you a present.  This is Preeti.”  With this, the bedroom door swings open.  I cannot believe my eyes!  I am utterly stunned. I feel my jaw drop open as I double and triple take, desperately trying to make sense of what is before me.  Beyond the door, out on the landing, wearing nothing but lacy top stockings and stilettos, stands the most exquisitely beautiful Asian woman; gorgeous dark eyes gazing into mine, wide mouth, hands on hips, full breasts with dark pert nipples, waspy waist, long slender legs.  I am aware of Jenny giggling on the bed beside me “I think you’ve made an impression, Preeti”.  I start to blubber “What…how…who…..”  Jenny is speaking to me now, pretending to be offended but still giggling “If I could have your attention for a moment”.  I manage to wrench my gaze from Preeti and turn to Jenny beside me on the bed.  “Preeti is bi.  She’s been chasing me for years, haven’t you tiger?”  I turn again to Preeti, who is nodding and smiling, then back to Jenny.  “Although I’m straight, I’ve agreed she can do anything she wants to me and I’ll do anything she wants to her, on the condition that she does everything she can to please you, and she has agreed.  So, did I guess right, are you up for a three-some?”

33.             All men are rapists.  We were told by the hardcore feminists.  It is not true: they were deliberately tendentious but found the publicity they sought.  There is an element of truth, however: men have a genetic predisposition to shag anything in a skirt.  The predictable response is all women are whores.  It is equally untrue and unhelpful but, again, there is an element of truth.  Women have a genetic predisposition to manipulate.

34.             Things settle into routine.  Some mornings it’s Jenny, some mornings Preeti, some mornings both.  Because they don’t live together, their periods are not aligned and I am constantly in demand.  At first I thought I would never cope but my back seemed to strengthen and the soreness passed as the weeks went by.  I never stopped wanting them and they never seemed to tire of me.  Then one morning, Preeti said “Would you mind if I invited my little sister?”

35.             Flowers are the sexual behaviour of plants.  Pretty things!  Even those who subscribe to the “babies good, sex bad” ethos can appreciate flowers.

36.             Helen says she enjoys sex but she doesn’t want to do it.  I do want to do it but her opinion holds sway.  My frustration grows as the weeks go by.  I can’t seem to sleep properly and I drink too much.  I get an erection, without any warning and for no apparent reason, at seemingly random times during the day.  The weeks drag into months.  I feel like I’m going to explode.  She’s not a nasty person and I’m sure she would not put me through such torment if she knew.  I try to explain but I might just as well be speaking a foreign language: it seems we have no datum, no point of reference, no common experience.

37.             When I was about fifteen, I was persuaded, against my better judgement, to take a holiday at Butlins with my parents.  It was bloody awful and the last time I ever went away with them.  The one high point of the week was the underwater window on the swimming pool.  I still don’t understand why women’s bodies underwater are more erotic than those, similarly attired, when dry.

38.             World peace is a doddle too.  I just call up the protagonists.  I have no trouble getting put through: everyone obeys.  “Barak, just get your men out of there.  I’ll sort the violence.  You don’t need to worry.”  “OK Dave, I’m onto it.”  “Don’t let me down, now.  I’ve got better things to do with my time than sort our your messes.”  “Yes, Dave, I know and I’m sorry: it won’t happen again.  Are you still coming for dinner next week?”  “Yeah, probably, I’ll let you know.”

39.             So now I live like a drone.  I have no need to work.  The beautiful mansion house I own is fully funded, maintained, cleaned and populated by top models, starlets, divas.  Security used to be a problem (oh, those paparazzi!) but, since I put Mr.T onto it, all is well.  My flat in the city is good too.

40.             I’m on the rebound.  It’s my only excuse really.  Helen, my first wife, and I split, fairly amicably, considering we’d been together for eleven years.  She was having an affair, I was having an affair.  I thought “What’s the point?”  I found an advert in the back of an Admag.  You know the way these things go: “32 y.o. woman with GSH WLTM similar guy to share the good times.”  Her name is Daphne.  I should ask her about the bad times.

41.             Most advertising angers me.  So much of it is dishonest.  “Everyone is shopping by post these days” is the pretty jingle whilst the attractive woman posts a letter: what could be more pleasant or inoffensive?  It’s obviously a whopping lie: if everyone is shopping by post, why is the Post Office spending vast amounts of money persuading us to do so?  A favourite tactic is to seem to say something whilst actually saying nothing.  They cannot be lying if they’re saying nothing.  “Thirty percent fewer fillings” means absolutely nothing but it sounds like a bold claim for a significant improvement.  Is that thirty percent fewer than if I clean my teeth with battery acid?

42.             All of the signs were there, right from the start, if I’m honest.  We got on together quite well in the early days.  She could be good fun, liked a drink, was indeed the owner of the GSH in the ad, and the sex was pretty good.  But she clearly had control-freak tendencies and a vile temper.  Oh, and a cruel streak too.  She had two cats that she professed to love.  When she gave up work and the money got tight, Daphne tried to get the cats to eat the cheapest food she could find.  The cats would not touch it.  Eventually, they just left home.  I should have said something.  I’m profoundly ashamed that I did not.  I think I was already scared of her.

43.             Right and wrong are essentially genetic.  Society processes, manipulates and religious or legal bodies try to claim authorship, ownership, but it’s just the icing on the cake.  Right and wrong are pre-programmed in each of us.  Jealousy is genetic too.  Is jealousy right or wrong?

44.             The Westin Stamford tower, downtown Singapore, has a bar at the top, seventy floors up.  They serve Singapore Slings, the local gin cocktail, for the tourists, in pot Merlion vessels.  Anyone who comes to Singapore must go at least once: it’s quite an experience.  They say the views are spectacular on a clear day: the whole island and across the Straits into Malaysia.  I feel fine until I walk out of the elevator.  Then I freeze.  I can feel the building moving beneath my feet.  The movement is only very slight, very gentle, maybe only a millimetre either way, but I feel my legs going numb.  Fear has me in its grasp and is slowly squeezing the life from me.  I’m clinging, with white knuckles, to the back of a chair, occupied by a very alarmed Chinaman.  I don’t know what to do, everyone is looking at me, apparently unconcerned by both height and movement, wondering what on Earth is the big fool round-eye doing?  Eventually, one of the stewards takes pity on me and helps me back to the elevator.  He tries to soothe me, saying I’m not the first, I’m quite safe, I’d best to get back down to street level.  Daphne is laughing.

45.             Advertisers tell us that sex sells.  There are so many different possible interpretations of this statement, so many ways it is both true and false.  The Beatles said “can’t buy me love”.  Steely Dan said “can’t buy a thrill”.  Doctor Feelgood said “when you’re making love, check your wallet every minute”.  The Police told Roxanne not to sell her body to the night.

46.             Preeti’s sister, Jagruti, is a revelation.  She isn’t quite so gorgeous as Preeti, though younger and certainly a “looker”, but she’s far more inventive and flexible.  She’s also a lot noisier: grunting and screaming, wailing and shouting.  I wonder Jenny’s neighbours haven’t complained: Jagruti gives me a headache and I’m distracted.

47.             Daphne’s mother wants us to adopt the children of Daphne’s half-brother, Dennis, who lives on an island in the Caribbean I’ve never heard of.  Apparently, Dennis was injured in a farming accident and now cannot work.  His woman is threatening to sell the children.  Now, I know that I can be cynical at times, but this sounds mighty far-fetched to me.  Mothers selling their children is not a scenario I’m familiar with.  Poor people trying to scam richer relatives out of their hard-earned cash seems more credible.  Nevertheless, I play along with the idea.  Why?  Please, someone tell me, why?

48.             I’m thirty years old and I feel as though I’m on the brink of my first big break.  They’ve asked me to manage the Spares Department.  As ever with these things, this is not all good news: Spares is regarded as something of a back-water, it’s where they put employees that they can’t find any other use for.  But it’s my first management role: I’m climbing the ladder.  Friends take me to one side to warn me about the foreman of the spares fitters, Joe.  He’s a Bolshie bastard, renown for agitating, stirring up trouble, justifying lack of output and laziness.

49.             Helen works in a village about eight miles out of town.  To save me walking across town, she often picks me up on her way home.  She has established a rapport with the security guards: I’m rarely in my office and they ring around my usual haunts to let me know she’s here.  It’s my first day in the Spares job.  Helen is waiting for me in the security hut.  Joe has locked up the Spares Stores for the night and brings the keys into the hut.  Andy, one of the security guards and part-time comedian, recognises an opportunity for levity.  “What’s this new boss of yours like then, Joe?”  “Well, I’ve not met him yet but no bloody yuppie is going to tell us what to do.”  “I’ve heard he’s got big plans for you lot.  He’s going to make you quick and efficient, really put Spares on the map.”  “He stands no chance, I’m on a cushy number over there, we’ll put him in his place.”  “He’s got a gorgeous wife.”  Suddenly, Joe is aware that all is not as it seems and notices Helen smiling at him.  Joe’s face turns to thunder “You fucking bastard, Andy!” smashes the keys into the counter and storms out.

50.             Eight o’clock sharp, totally uninvited, Joe is standing in my office.  He looks uneasy but is trying to keep his savoir faire intact “I want to talk to you about last night.”  There’s a long pause whilst Joe looks at me intently.  Eventually, I ask “And what would you like to say to me about last night?”  I confess I’m being cruel here, enjoying his obvious discomfort.  “I want to say that I didn’t know she was your wife.”  “Well, I think I’d kind of guessed that.  Anything else?”  Joe is really struggling.  I can see he can’t bear this situation but he can’t find any escape.  The pause is probably only a matter of seconds but it seems to linger interminably.  I’m determined I’m not going to speak, to help him out, to let him off the hook.  Eventually, he tries “There’s not much more I can say, is there?”  He looks contrite, beaten even, and I think this is as close to an apology I’m ever likely to receive.  “No, Joe, probably not.”  Again, time ticks by, Joe looks at his hands, then at me, then back at his hands.  I wonder whether he’s considering begging: I don’t want that.  He speaks in a mumble “What are you going to do?”  “I’m not going to do anything, Joe.”  He looks shocked, incredulous “Nothing?”  “Yes, nothing.  I’ll be down later to discuss some reorganisation plans I have with you.  Shall we say ten o’clock?”  I can almost taste his relief “Yes, thank you, oh yes, ten is fine, thank you, yes.”

51.             There’s a tale about me that’s written into family folk-lore.  I knew nothing of it at the time, for obvious reasons.  It is parents’ evening at school.  My teacher has recognised Mum and Dad waiting their turn and has managed to get up a head of steam, ready.  As soon as they sit before her, she releases a stream of invective “Your boy is a complete idiot, he won’t concentrate on anything for two moments together, he will never amount to anything, he thinks he knows the subjects better than I, he challenges everything I do”….and so on.  Mum is trying to placate and calm her, even agreeing with her.  Meanwhile, Dad is studying the register.  Suddenly, he  interrupts “It says here that David is top in Maths, second in English, top in Science, got full marks in Geography, History and R.E.  If he’s a complete idiot, what are the rest, bloody cabbages?”  Mum is shocked but teacher is sobbing, pitifully “Well, he’s a very naughty boy!”

52.             You might think that, for an Englishman trying to adopt two Caribbean children, living in Singapore could be a disadvantage.  Flying distances aside, the opposite is true.  We effectively circumvent U.K. immigration and social services.  Singapore’s authorities are not really interested, as I’m on a fixed term visa.  The judge in the Caribbean is only interested in my bank balance.  What could take years in Blighty, with no guarantee of success, is all signed and sealed in days: instant family!

53.             I used to poo my pants when I was younger.  Not only as a baby, like normal folk, but when I was six or seven, even later.  They said it was attention-seeking behaviour.  Well, they always know best, I suppose.  I know I was mortified when I was discovered and I went to incredible lengths to conceal my secret, which doesn’t really seem consistent with attention-seeking.  You’d think that it would have been easier just to go to the toilet and forego the need to conceal.  I don’t think the beatings helped much.

54.             My elder sister likes to tell me that my Father is utterly devoted to my Mother.  This may be true but I’m watching him and I’m pretty sure he’s trying to wheedle his way into Aunty’s knickers.  That’s not an appropriate way to touch a sister-in-law: whatever would Mum say?  She’s a good looking woman, my Aunty.  I think she looks a lot like Dionne Warwick, though rather paler.  The two of them are pretending to dance but that’s no dance I recognise and oh shit, he’s got his tongue in her mouth!  Uncle Kevin will go berserk if he sees them.  Come on people: this is supposed to be a family party, not a wife swap.

55.             They’re good kids.  Considering what they’ve been through, they’re remarkably well adjusted.  They get up to the sort of things you might expect a six and ten year old to get up to.  They’re not saints, they make mistakes, they’re growing up and learning as they go.  This isn’t good enough for Daphne.  Nothing less than perfect will do.

56.             May has come to dump me.  I thought I knew before she showed up but she’s brought all the stuff I left at her place with her, so all doubt is gone.  I’ve done it all wrong again.  I’m really angry with myself: I knew it was stupid but I couldn’t help myself.  I’m on the rebound again.  I should have waited.  Now she just thinks I’m clingy, too needy, too much trouble.  But I really like her.  I can’t let her slip away.  She’s come for dinner: I’ve got to get this right.

57.             Hitting kids doesn’t work.  I confess I’m not into violence of any kind, it makes me very uneasy, even if I’m not involved, so I guess I’m biased.  This aside, I’m no “do-gooder”, I suppose I might be tempted to administer a clip round the ear, if I thought for a moment it would have the desired effect.  It never does.  It didn’t work on me when I was young: it won’t work on Danny and Maria now.

58.             I’ve made a roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings.  May previously told me how much she likes Yorkshire Pudding so I’ve made some but they’ve not turned out too well: more like biscuits than Yorkshires.  I made sure that I had a good stock of wine in: May likes a drink.  Now we’re sitting in my lounge getting steadily pissed.  I’ve just cracked a bottle of port.  It’s now or never.  “I really want to see you again.  I’m sorry I made such an arsehole of myself last week.  I recognise the mistake I made: your independence is important to you.  You’ve achieved a hell of a lot on your own.  I realise I can’t waltz in and take control of that.  I don’t want to.  I’m proud of what you’ve achieved, even though I don’t have any claim to you, if you see what I mean.  I love you.”  May smiles at me “Let’s go to bed”.

59.             Mr. Lim and I get on really well.  My employers want me to give him a hard time but I really can’t see the point.  He’s one of our independent distributors and he owes us a lot of money.  It’s not his fault that his currency did a nose dive, effectively putting up the cost of our products in his country five fold, virtually overnight.  He works hard for very little reward.  I can see his workforce have a lot of respect for him.  He carries himself with a quiet authority, without ever needing to be loud or emotional.  When he speaks, people listen.

60.             My third wife is an angel.  I really don’t deserve this kind of luck.  She’s slim and clever, bright and beautiful, funny and dependable.  I never feel there’s any hidden agenda, totally WYSIWYG.  I don’t need to watch what I say, she doesn’t give me a hard time.  She has a bad temper and gets a bit snappy from time to time but, unlike Daphne, May is never nasty or vindictive.  The centre of the Universe has moved.  I’m in love!

61.             It seems that everyone in Singapore has a mobile phone, even the school-kids on my bus to work.  I’m determined that I’m not having one.  They’re still relatively rare in the U.K. and I consider it a sign of my Englishness to resist.  Actually, that’s bullshit, the real reason I don’t want one is because I know I will never have a moment’s peace if I do.  My boss works eighteen hour days and will call me at the least excuse.  Worse still, Daphne might get my number.

62.             Mr. Lim and I are trying to negotiate a large order in Malacca.  We’re sitting in the customer’s office, trying to find out what he really wants, where we can trim some costs.  I feel things are going quite well.  Normally, I find folk here are quite inscrutable, but I think Lim understands my difficulty and gives me a reassuring wink from time to time, when our customer’s attention is elsewhere.  I think he must have read signs that I missed.  Lim’s mobile phone rings.  No-one is the least perturbed: sure, this is the second interruption from Lim’s phone but our client has had two mobile calls, one landline call and left for twenty minutes to attend another meeting.  You have to learn, business is conducted differently in Malaysia.  Unusually, he hands the phone to me.  It’s my boss’s secretary.  Even more unusual, she’s emotional “Come back now, your children are gone”.

63.             In Singapore, they call it “face”.  It’s not easy to explain exactly what it means.  The nearest I can get is “pride” but that’s not really satisfactory.  It is incredibly important to folk here, particularly the Chinese.  Do not embarrass or shame a Chinaman with whom you want to retain a friendship.

64.             Daphne is trying to explain but I can tell she’s lying.  There is something she’s skirting around, an area of the subject in hand that she does not want to touch upon.  I can’t quite work out what it is yet, so I just listen.  “I came back from the shops and there were two coppers waiting for me at the flat door.  They took me down to the station in Bukit Timah and interviewed me.  It seems Danny has been telling them all sorts of things.  He’s been taken into care.  So has Maria.  They want you to go down to the station straight away.”  “Welcome home” I think.

65.             Fact and fiction are convenient labels but can be quite misleading.  News, history and autobiography are processed, slanted, have agenda.  Novels and poetry are really what someone thinks.  Accuracy is never easy to assess.  Can we trust our memories and senses to provide a perfect account?  Whose version is the real one?

66.             I don’t like the way the desk sergeant is looking at me.  Every time I give him an answer to a question, he just stares at me.  No response, no “yes” or “no” or “you’re lying”, nothing.  He’s not even writing anything down.  I feel frustrated.  He won’t answer any of my questions.  What he has told me sounded like a prepared speech and I can’t get any more from him.  “Danny and Maria have been taken into care.  They will spend tonight in a children’s home.  This is because Danny made accusations against your wife this morning when he arrived at school.  The school called us.  Maria has corroborated his statement.  Your wife has been arrested and released on police bail but we have retained her passport.  Singapore Social Services will visit you at your home tomorrow to inform you of the next step in this case.”

67.             Each of us is born a product of our genetic code and our Mother’s physiology.  Our first decision in life, whatever that may be, is made using the nervous system we inherited that developed in the womb.  We are not responsible for our genes or the womb.  Therefore, it follows, we are not responsible for our first decision.  All subsequent decisions in our lives can only be made using the same nervous system and any result of previous decisions.  Therefore, we are not responsible for any decision.  Where does free will come from?

68.             Singapore Social Services are sitting on my sofa in the shape of Kalbinder, a slim pretty Indian woman and her henchman Manjit.  He has said nothing since he arrived and I’m guessing he’s here as Kalbinder’s bodyguard.  Kalbinder and I are listening to Daphne’s account of the “incident”.  Manjit is not listening to anything but watching me.  “I caught them lying again.  I told them both they were in for a beating next time I caught them.  I think it’s important to be consistent with children.  I could not get them to stand still.  Then Danny tried to stop me from spanking Maria.  I was on my own ‘cos Dave was away on business yet again.  I only tied Danny up to keep him off me.”

69.             What happens when the irresistible force meets the immovable object?  It’s a very silly question.  Isaac Newton taught us three hundred years ago that every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  So it follows, even the smallest force has an effect on the largest object.  If you drop a feather on a mountain, it makes a difference.  Our footsteps deflect the Earth.

70.             Kalbinder takes a long time to respond.  She’s choosing her words very carefully.  “Both children have been examined by a Social Services retained doctor.  We only have a preliminary report at this stage but what we have is consistent with the accounts given by the children.  They both presented multiple contusions on the buttocks and backs of their legs.  They both have marks on wrists and ankles.  They claim that you tied each of them to their bunk beds and beat them with a broom handle.  They were unable to sit down when they arrived at school.”

71.             What is reality?  If my experience of the World around me is different from yours, whose is real?  If they’re both real, are we in the same Universe?

72.             I bit my nails for many years.  I tell people that I started chewing at them when I started school and kept on until the day I left.  I doubt this is true but I thought it sounded good.  Maybe I have a lingering resentment of my time in school, perhaps this is a lame attempt at recrimination.  These days I have quite long nails on my right hand for plucking my guitar strings.  I couldn’t get along with a plectrum: too much like eating with chopsticks.

73.             Werner Heisenberg taught us that we cannot observe anything without changing it.  An observer inevitably becomes part of the action.  We can never know if the outcome would have been the same had we not watched.  Uncertainty is the very essence of matter and is unavoidable.

74.             I’m ashamed but, at the same time, I’m not ashamed.  I think May has marvellous breasts.  Part of me says this is a disgusting attitude that demeans both she and I.  Part of me can’t help but admire their size and shape; the way they move when she moves; that slightly independent sway they take on when she walks; that alluring view down her cleavage if she leans over the table.  No matter how many times I see them, I never tire, never pass up the opportunity for another look.

75.             Daphne and I are arguing a lot.  She’s not pretty when she’s angry.  It seems that her predicament is entirely due to a lack of support from me and nothing whatsoever to do with the violence perpetrated by her.  I mention that I asked her on numerous occasions to stop hitting the children but that is clear evidence of lack of support, earns me a black eye and four nights without sleep.  Daphne can stay in bed all day, while I have to work.  Whenever Kalbinder visits, Daphne expresses remorse, displays contrition, jumps through the hoops, but I know she doesn’t really believe any of it.

76.             Little green men from space seem too unlikely.  But I wonder how they might regard our stewardship of this planet.  Would we be “the most intelligent life-form” or “the strongest survivors”, or would they look on Homo Sapiens in much the same way as I look on the greenfly in my garden?

77.             Daphne refuses any legal representation or advice.  She is determined that everything should be out in the open: there will be nothing swept under the carpet.  This seems to be driven by her belief that I am the one responsible.  I think she is trying to exacerbate the situation.  I try to argue, even if she is absolutely correct, even if I am entirely to blame, she is the one on trial.  This prompts the worst row ever: she is systematically destroying the apartment, smashing pots and furniture.  Someone calls the police and Daphne tries to persuade them that I’m the one smashing things.  They’re clearly not convinced.  I wonder if I should ask for some protection but it sounds so pathetic.  Folk just don’t appreciate what a hellcat she really is.

78.             I get taken out of school two afternoons each month.  I can tell the teachers don’t like it but they don’t say anything.  Mum collects me from the school gates at twelve and drives me to Newcastle in her beat up Mini.  I don’t mind this at all: school is boring at the best of times.  We go to this strange building on the main road that looks like an office block.  Mum waits in the foyer and I go into a room full of toys with an old woman.  I play with the toys and she asks me inane questions: which is my favourite toy, do I have friends at school, which lessons am I best at?  When we come out, the woman tells Mum things about me that I don’t understand “Oh, yes, he’s doing much better”.  Much better at what, I wonder.

79.             Daphne is sentenced to six months in Changi gaol.  I’m granted visiting rights: the children on Saturday afternoons three hours, Daphne every second Wednesday morning thirty minutes.  The kids are always pleased to see me.  Daphne screams into the telephone that is our only link, spits, curses and thumps the plate glass between us.  They’ve cut most of her hair off.  She sleeps on a straw mat on a concrete floor with seven other women.  I think she’d like to kill me.  She tells me it’s all over between us and she never wants to see me again.  I tell her I’ll see her in a fortnight.

80.             My pal Chris has a reputation as a hothead.  He’s the first amongst us to get a car and he drives like a loony.  He’s walking tall today at school, though.  Oh my, but is he chuffed with himself!  Last night he received the biggest bollocking ever from his parents, even though he was nowhere near the alleged incident, completely innocent.  Apparently, his mum was in town, shopping, yesterday.  She claims she had never seen the shop assistant before in her life but, when there was a shrill squeal of tires and sound of a revving engine from outside, the assistant asked “That’ll be your lad, won’t it?”

81.             We were made so welcome when we first arrived in Singapore.  My new work colleagues went to incredible lengths to make our move as stress-free as possible.  I’ve made good friends of many of them and genuinely enjoy their company.  Since Daphne’s court appearance and jail sentence, no one wants to know me.  Her conviction was in the Straits Times.  We’ve brought shame upon the organisation.  My boss and his partner created this business out of nothing.  Even though they sold it to my UK employer, they still regard it as theirs, live and breathe its successes and setbacks.  They make no complaint to me but I understand they’ve lost face.

82.             I can hardly speak, I’m laughing so hard at my sister.  “It’s a hair’s breadth, not a hare’s breath, you clown!”  Even she can’t help but laugh.  “Oh, I always wondered what hares had to with thinness.”

83.             Daphne’s sister Diane has come all the way from London to visit her in gaol.  Even I am shocked at the venom and vitriol Daphne hurls at her.  “How can any of this be Diane’s fault?”  I wonder.

84.             I’m sitting on a bench in Rufford Park.  May left me with her dog Molly whilst she went to look around the craft shop.  Now Molly is a border collie, very loving, devoted creatures but they all have OCDs (obsessional compulsive disorder that is, and not, as some have suggested, ordinary collie dog).  Molly’s particular OCD is sticks: you have to throw them, she has to fetch them, woe betide you if you refuse.  I was holding a stick and looking around for a direction to launch it in.  Molly lurched at the stick in front of me, tripped me up and I fell heavily, smashing my face into the gravel path.  Now I’m sitting with blood streaming down my face from a split eyebrow, whilst Molly is barking a demand for me to throw the stick.  I think I’m concussed.  May arrives and, cooing with concern, helps me to the café, where she asks for the first-aid kit to patch me up.  Now I expect I must look a bit of a sight, dazed and face covered with blood, but I think the waitress is going too far when she asks May “Are you his carer?”

85.             If we want to understand nature, our task is not to frame nature to our philosophical prejudices, but rather to adjust our philosophy to what nature teaches.  Our history is littered with examples of arrogant disregard for nature that came back to bite us.

86.             My elder brother is a professor of something mighty clever.  He tries to explain it all to me from time to time whilst I try to interject with appropriate “yes” and “I see” and “that’s interesting”.  He’s made a table for his new hi-fi system.  He’s very proud of his handy-work and I promise you that I’m doing my very best not to laugh.  I don’t want to hurt his feelings, it must be the first time he built anything like this and it obviously means a lot to him.  The screws through the MDF top into the end-grain of the legs will not hold for long and, as the MDF is unsupported except where its corners sit on the legs, it is likely to sag quite badly.  If I tell him, he will be upset; if I don’t tell him, it will fall to pieces and may damage his new stereo.  What to do?

87.             My friend John and I get into a lot of trouble.  It’s not that we’re wicked, we just like a bit of fun from time to time, well, most of the time really.  My family and his are always in and out of one another’s houses.  They only live a hundred yards away, Dad likes Ken, Mum is in business with Angie, Mary and Denise are inseparable, so it’s perfectly natural that John and I hook up, even though he’s a couple of years younger than me.  We were playing in a junk yard last night on the way home from school when one of John’s class mates showed up wearing a silly hat.  Well, we had to take it off him, didn’t we?  It was only a bit of fun but instead of chasing us, he ran off home crying.  We didn’t know what to do then: we didn’t want the stupid thing.  So we threw it onto the pub roof and went home.

88.             John and I are both stood up in Morning Assembly.  The rest of the school are sitting on the hall floor around us.  Graves, the head, is pontificating.  He’s a smug bastard at the best of times.  I’m always getting into mither with him and he takes delight in caning me at every opportunity.  He’s telling everyone how he received a phone call this morning complaining that John and I had stolen a hat, a gift from a favourite uncle who was unwell.  We had caused great distress and brought shame upon the school.  Now John and I have a tactic, permanently agreed and already in place: when we’re cornered, he blames me and I blame him.  There’s no treachery, it’s by prior agreement, before we even get accused of anything.  But Graves is one jump in front this time: he’s telling the entire school that they should kick us if they see us together.  That sounds like a lot of kicking to me!  Apparently, John and I are permanently banned from one-another’s company.  He can’t do that, can he?

89.             My Father fosters a deep loathing of hypocrites.  He hurls abuse at the news on the television whenever he hears a transgression.  He’s also taken a disliking to two new friends of my elder sister and I.  Their family has recently moved into our street and he’s telling us they’re no good because they’re “Manchester Overflow”.  I have a deep loathing of cowards but I’m too scared to point out that Father was born and bred in Reddish, Stockport and Mother is from Bolton.

90.             Last night, at the bus stop, I pulled a lad off John.  He was sitting on John’s chest and repeatedly punching him in the face.  John’s arms were pinned and he could not defend himself.  I didn’t see what John had done to deserve this punishment.  The lad’s mother was there and gave me an earful for “attacking her son”.  I just told her to sod off.  This morning, Graves is going to cane me for giving cheek to an adult, using foul language, and bringing shame on the school.  I tell him about the fight I ended but he’s not interested: it seems adults are always in the right, irrespective of their deeds.  I really struggle with this.  The pain from Graves’s knobbly cane across my fingers is nothing compared to the pain and the anger I feel from this injustice.  I am seething and plotting revenge.

91.             Graves has a new Rover: a long, sleek, black beauty.  It’s two weeks since I was caned but the passing time has only heightened my anger and hatred of him.  I’ve decided I’m going to trash his car.  It’s the scheduled morning assembly but something is wrong.  Normally we file into the hall to the accompaniment of some piece of classical music, scratched out of the school’s tinny record deck.  This plays until Graves strides in, then he chooses some unfortunate pupil and demands they tell him the name of the composer or the name of the piece.  He’s never been given a good guess yet, let alone a correct answer.  It’s become an unwritten rule amongst us that no one will ever get this right.  This morning there’s no music and Graves is already there waiting for us.  He doesn’t look happy but then he rarely looks happy unless he’s caning someone.  He stares at me from time to time but I’m not going to be drawn: I refuse to look him in the eye and just keep my face to the front, expressionless.  Once we’re all in: he starts “Last night, after school, a person or persons vandalised my car.  We will remain in this hall until someone tells me who is responsible for this evil.  Probert, where did you go last night?”  Oh, yes: now I’m a happy boy!  I struggle to keep myself from laughing out loud.  “I caught the four o’clock bus to Gillow Heath from outside the Rose and Crown, sir.  There were at least twenty others with me who are here and can verify that fact, sir.”  He looks around and there is a general murmur of agreement and nodding of heads.  I’m feeling bold.  “Why was I singled out for this question, sir?”  All around, kids are staring at me in disbelief.  Graves looks like he’s going to explode “You impudent boy” he screams “go and wait outside my office.”  This time, I know I’ve got him: if he canes me again, I can get him sacked.  So I set off between the rows of fidgeting pupils, towards his office on the other side of the playground, with a spring in my step, looking forward to a beating for the first time in my life.  Suddenly Cater, the deputy head, shouts at me to stop.  What’s going on?  Cater has walked from his position beside the stage and is whispering into Graves’s ear.  Graves is glaring at me but nodding at whatever Cater is saying.  Then Graves yells “Probert, get back in line”.  Bastard: no caning!  We spend a lot of time in the hall but we never find out who trashed Graves’s car.

92.             I’m working as a labourer for the builder next door.  I couldn’t stick college so I threw it in and came home.  Arthur Bendick is building his new fiancée a house as his last job before he retires.  Arthur is a nice old duffer and I like working for him.  The house is built on a very steep slope, so it’s a bungalow at the back but two storey at the front.  This is good because it means I can wheelbarrow the bricks onto the scaffolding at eaves level and don’t need to carry a hod up a ladder.  I’m stacking a load of bricks onto the planks at the top when the scaffolding collapses and the floor gives way beneath me.  I have no chance to save myself and I’m falling backwards, looking up at the barrow and bricks falling above me.  I know I’m dead: if the twenty-five foot drop doesn’t kill me, the bricks and barrow certainly will.  I hear myself shout and wait for the blow.  Then something gently catches me, I’m cushioned as bricks and barrow fall around me and all is peaceful.  I’m confused, not sure what is supposed to happen next, so I lie and wait.  Mick, the bricky, appears above me, looking down “Are you O.K.?”  Arthur is by his side in an instant “Have you hurt, young un?”  I prop myself up on an elbow and examine the scene: I have fallen into the pile of builder’s sand, the barrow and bricks are embedded all around me.  I am completely unharmed but crying like a baby.

93.             Countries: aptly named!  “My” country is an accident of my birth.  Who is my brother: a factory worker in Germany, an office worker in Japan, Richard Branson, the vagrant who lives under the canal bridge?  When “we” go to war, who are “our” troops fighting for?  “Protecting our way of life” is a phrase bandied in the media but we don’t share a common way of life.  So am I paying taxes so the military can keep Branson in his mansion and the vagrant under the canal bridge?

94.             I think about death, though not generally in a maudlin way.  Sometimes the idea of being no more seems quite attractive.  I worry about May though: will she cope on her own?  I have taken appropriate measures to ensure that she is financially secure but what about emotionally secure, loneliness secure, something to look forward to secure, someone to hold secure?

95.             Grandma is moaning that they’ve put the price of postage up again.  But she’s a cheery soul and always looks on the bright side.  “Lucky I got some stamps in before they went up” she says.

96.             I have a collie called Smudge.  She absolutely adores me.  It matters not one jot that May feeds her, walks her, brushes her and is with her most of the day.  Smudge is a daddy’s girl.  She will happily knock May out of the way in order to greet me when we arrive home.  I have never experienced such devotion before and, although I’m flattered, I find the responsibility quite daunting.

97.             How would the World look if we were all hermaphrodite?  Imagine society without sexual partnerships of any kind; no men, women, girls and boys, just adults and children; no mothers and fathers, just parents.  Would we ever feel the need to make an effort, dress up, look attractive, cavort?  Would we be happier and more contented, or just unmotivated and bored?

98.             I don’t recognise people.  I completed tests on a prosopagnosia website but the results seem to say there is nothing wrong with me.  I only remember faces by where they belong, so if I see a work colleague in the street, I don’t know him, whereas I recognise him without problem in the office.  This can be quite embarrassing on occasions and I use a number of tactics to avoid that embarrassment.  I’m constantly scanning faces for signs that they recognise me.  I greet complete strangers because they might not be complete strangers.  When we’re out together and May meets someone she knows, I listen for clues in the conversation to indicate who they are and whether I’ve met them before.  Their names often mean nothing to me too.  Fortunately, we all have to wear security badges at work, though this carries some risks: when the women catch me looking at their chests, they clearly assume the worst.  “Stop staring at my tits.  I wasn’t, I was trying to read your security badge.  You’ve known me for eight months: what’s to read?  I still don’t know who you are.  Fuck off, you perv!”

99.             I wake to see the receptionist from work, messing with a tube that leads to a needle in the back of my hand.  I feel like I’ve been put through a mangle: every part of me hurts like hell.  Why is she wearing a uniform?  “Just lie still.  You’re going to be OK.  The doctor will be with you in a minute” and she is gone.  Why am I so tired?

100.         I can hear someone talking but I can’t make any sense of the words.  There’s a throbbing pain in my head and right down my back that makes it very difficult to listen.  Is that a foreign language?  Make it stop, go away, I don’t want any more of this!  “David!”  It’s like being stabbed in the head.  “David, can you hear me?”  I open my eyes.  Nothing makes any sense.  There’s a black guy in a white coat standing over me.  He seems to be holding my wrist.  It’s all too bright and too painful.  I try to move and I’m in agony.  Oh, my back!  I can hear someone wailing: is that me?

101.         “David!  David!  David you’ve been involved in a motorcycle accident.  You’re in hospital and you’re going to be OK but you MUST lie still.  We need to send you down for X-ray.  Can you feel this?”  I can feel my back.  What’s happening to my back?  “David, can you feel me touching your toe?”  I try to lift my head to see my foot: mistake!  I’m crying again.

102.         I am told that Harry H. Corbett is related to my Father.  Dad tells us that he remembers playing with Harry when they were kids.  There’s even a tale that Harry was at my Grandfather’s funeral.  I’ve never heard this from any of my uncles.  My elder brother was at the funeral and he can’t remember seeing Harry.  A quick search of the internet tells that Harry was born in Burma but was brought up by an aunt in Wythenshaw after his mother died when he was only three years old.  Wythenshaw is only seven miles or so from Reddish: I guess it’s possible.

103.         I’m driving to our office in Aberdeen.  It’s five hundred miles but I’ve had enough of flying.  There are a huge number of Gatso speed cameras on the route.  Some of them are covered with heavy, orange, plastic bags on which is written “camera not in use”.  Can anyone explain the purpose of that to me?

104.         In evolutionary terms, sexual reproduction is dominant.  Asexual reproduction is mostly limited to lesser species.  The salamander is capable of both sexual and asexual reproduction.  There is probably no such thing as “salamander society” but I can’t help but try to imagine what it would be like.

105.         I feed the birds in my back garden.  It gives me a huge amount of pleasure to see them eating.  I can’t really explain why.  If I put out nyjer seed we get goldfinch.  On rare occasion, we see a woodpecker in the dead tree on the waste ground behind the garden.  It gives me a real lift, makes my day, though I cannot discern any possible benefit.  I planted two cherry trees soon after we moved in but I’ve yet to taste a cherry as the blackbirds steal them, just before they ripen, each summer.

106.         Dad is the first to show: his office is not too far from the hospital.  He checks I’m OK and then asks about my feet.  “My feet are fine” I tell him.  By the time Mother shows up, they’re pumping me full of pain-killers, I’m in a surgical collar and I’m feeling a lot more comfortable.  Almost as soon as she arrives she’s trying to dig into the blankets at the bottom of the bed.  “Mum, what are you doing?”  “I need to check your feet”  “What is this with the feet?  I’ve broken my neck and my shoulder blade!”  “The old lady who works in my office took the message from the hospital.  They said you were OK but they were trying to save your feet.”  “Is she deaf, Mother?”  “Who?”  “Your old lady office assistant.”  “Oh, well yes, I suppose.”

107.         Barry Sheene was a source of great inspiration for me.  My first experience of live motorcycle racing was at Oulton Park.  As we walked into the circuit, the scream of the two-stroke engines and the smell of the burnt oils were intoxicating but nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Sheene, with his bike leant over and his front wheel off the ground, accelerating hard through a corner on the brow of a hill.  I was spell-bound.  There is a similar corner on the brow of a hill on my way to work.  I get to practice every day.  If I hit it absolutely flat out, around seventy miles an hour, I can get the front wheel light, sometimes starting to lift.  Obviously, I’m not leant over as much as Barry but I’ve only got a two-fifty.  There’s a cross-roads about thirty yards further down the hill beyond the bend but I don’t worry about that because it’s largely unused.

108.         Once again, I’m frustrated and I try to explain but I know I’m wasting my time.  “Try giving up smoking.”  She looks puzzled, so I press on.  “If you give up smoking, you will suffer a craving that will nag at you day and night.  It’s absolute hell, there is no peace.  But you know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  You put yourself through the torment in the knowledge that the symptoms will abate after a time.  Celibacy is not like that.  There’s the same craving, nagging at me day and night, but the end of the tunnel is bricked up, no chance of any respite.  It’s been like this for forty years.”

109.         I don’t remember getting up that morning.  Apparently, I left for work, as normal, at around eight o’clock.  This doesn’t really give me sufficient time to get to work by eight-thirty in rush-hour traffic but, hey, I like a challenge.  Jed Morris came up the hill and turned right at the cross-roads.  His tractor was already into the side road as I flew over the brow of the hill but his trailer was still across my lane.  He was surprised that I managed to swerve around the back of the trailer, considering the speed I was travelling at, but thinks I must have clipped it, because the bike and I parted company.  I slid down the hill face down, head first and was run over by a Renault Five following Jed up the hill.

110.         My crash helmet is a revelation.  I’m pleased that I spent a lot of money on a good one.  There is a fist-sized hole in the top, presumably from the Renault.  The police told me that the Renault driver was also taken to hospital, suffering from shock, though I didn’t meet her.  She thought I was dead.  I don’t know who called the ambulance.  My shoulder was interesting too.  Even though I was wearing both a leather jacket and a waxed cotton jacket at the time of the accident, it was completely covered in blood scab, as though I had been skinned.  Three weeks later, the scab came off in the bath in one piece, revealing undamaged skin underneath.  People tell me I was lucky.

111.         Why does May smell so wonderful?  She doesn’t seem particularly diligent at her toilet yet she always smells pleasant, wholesome, without being perfumed.  It’s always a treat for me to bury my face in her hair or her neck.  I doubt she’s perfect but she’s perfect for me.

112.         The personnel manager’s secretary arrives at my door carrying a get well card from my colleagues and a bottle of scotch.  I can never think of anything clever to write when someone gives me a get well card to sign and clearly my colleagues suffer the same malaise.  “Don’t break your neck to get back!” is the offering from Linda Gillings.  I can’t drink the scotch whilst I’m on so many pain killers but I appreciate the gesture.

113.         My job title is six sigma blackbelt.  I worry that this sounds incredibly pompous but, at the same time, I like the mystique of a job title that few people understand.  All it really means is that I’m an internal business consultant, concerned with process improvements, a scientific approach to business decisions, and I’m reasonably adept at statistical analysis.

114.         We’re an astute bunch, we blackbelts.  I’m at the nine o’clock butty wagon outside the office block.  I ask for a bacon and sausage roll.  The lass who drives the wagon thinks she’s being clever when she says “I’m sorry, we only have sausage and bacon rolls.”  Quick as a flash, I respond “That’s no problem, I’ll stand on the other side of it.”  I can see immediately she is impressed.

115.         We share everything.  We have a joint bank account, we don’t get into meaningless arguments about who earns more, who pays for what.  We similarly share the chores around the house and the tasks of life without fruitless discussion about who does more.  There is give and take on both sides; it fits together very nicely.  Sex is an entirely different matter.  Where sex is concerned, good grace and sensible appreciation are not admissible in evidence.  Everything I give to you counts for nothing, anything you give to me is worth the World.  Whilst refusing to discuss it, you are able to subtly suggest that the whole matter is distasteful to you.  I find this environment so oppressive.  I have to declare my desire many times each day.  You are studiously determined that I will never be given any reason to believe that you want me.  More than I want sex, more than I want anything else, I want you to want me.

116.         I have a lump in my neck.  My GP sent me for tests at the hospital and they’ve admitted me for a biopsy.  No one has mentioned the C word yet but the consultant in charge of my case is an oncologist and I know what that means.  He says he will remove the lymph node from my neck under general anaesthetic in the morning and check that “it’s nothing sinister”.  He looks very sympathetic which I find most alarming.  I’ve brought Alexandre Solzhenitsyn’s Cancer Ward with me for light entertainment.  I think it’s going to be a long night.

117.         I start work in the cost office.  It’s not much of a job, well below my capabilities, but probably ideally suited to my lack of aspiration.  My colleagues are a bunch of comedians.  They insult each other and me all day, every day, by way of entertainment.  I’m not use to this and I keep trying to defend myself, biting back, making a fool of myself, inviting more attacks on me.  They have scant regard for academia: they all came here through the apprenticeship route.  When they find I have an A-level in Biology, they rip in to me with glee.  Biology is responsible for every mistake I make and seemingly every other wrong in the World: I feel persecuted.  We’ve all just come back from a lunch-time session at the pub and the mood is fervently hedonistic: we’re laughing at everything and anything.  Tony is struggling to break into an under-ripe banana.  “Even monkeys can get into those” I say.  Tony looks hurt and pathetic but the office erupts in laughter: Archie and Richard are crying and rolling around their desks.  I think I’ve joined the club.

118.         I’m feeling pretty low.  I’ve been crying to myself at lot.  Accidents aside, I’ve not cried since I was a kid.  All of the windows are sealed and I’m sitting in the driver’s seat gently revving the engine.  I’m utterly sick of arguing with Daphne: nothing I say perturbs her in the least, yet she says the cruellest things to me and cuts me to the heart.  I should have found a way to stay in Singapore.  The air is getting smelly with fumes but I still feel as fit as a fiddle: how long is this going to take?  The garage door crashes open and Daphne is silhouetted in the doorway.  “What are you doing?” she demands.  “Nothing” I reply and trudge off to bed.

119.         I think I shall change my name by deed pole to Mr. FA51 FGJ.  It’s so much cheaper than buying my car a personalised registration.

120.         Sex education is a terrible shock for me.  I feel bewildered.  That sort of practice seems eminently reasonable for the rabbits and chickens in the slide show, after all, they’re only animals, but for civilised people?  I don’t believe it.  That would mean that my parents had done it four times, to account for my siblings and I.  It’s just not possible!  This bloke is suggesting, albeit indirectly, that my Dad must have had his todger in my Mum’s front bottom.  Yuck, I’m disgusted and quite offended by this.

121.         The launch of the Labour Club in the town centre was not the roaring success it might have been.  Not enough bums on seats.  We sit around in the club, drinking and trying to think of ways to attract people over the threshold.  Tufty says “Why don’t we book a band?”  Tony says “We don’t have money for a band.”  So Tufty says “There’s enough of us who play instruments: why don’t we form a band?” and thus, Red Splodge is born.

122.         None of us are particularly talented musicians but, even allowing for that, we are poor.  Too much drink, too little practice, too many egos.  But we seem to be quite popular: the audience just don’t seem to notice the bum notes, the wandering tempo, the unshared starts and finishes.  We’re on stage and Tufty is pissed again.  He leans over and asks me “What’s the next song?”  “Whole lot of shaking” I reply.  He looks puzzled “I’ve just played that one!”

123.         Archie spent Christmas Eve with Daphne and I at our home.  Considering how poor the relationship between Daphne and I is, the evening went remarkably well.  We all drank too much but it was a good laugh.  Archie is always entertaining, a very dry wit, and Daphne and I are hanging on to his every word.  By one o’clock, I was starting to doze off, so I left them to it and went off to bed.  Next morning, Archie gets up at seven.  I hear him leave the spare bedroom and creep down the stairs.  I leave Daphne in bed, jump into my dressing gown, and follow him.  I find him in the kitchen, putting his coat on.  He doesn’t look pleased to see me, which I put down to the hangover.  “Good morning and happy Christmas, Archie”.  “Oh, hi Dave, sorry I woke you, but I need to get off.”  “It’s OK matey, I think I was awake anyway.  What time did you two come to bed?  I was out cold”  “I think it was about three”.  “Do you want a coffee or anything?”  “No thanks, I’d better get off.”  “OK, see you for snooker next Thursday.”

124.         Archie is good at every sport he tries.  He’s just one of those folk who seem to be able to turn their hand to just about anything.  I’ve yet to find an event I can even realistically compete with him at, let alone think of winning.  This doesn’t worry me unduly: I am happy to play, win or lose.  So I know there’s something awry because I’m already two frames up and looking like taking the third.  “What the hell’s up with you?  You’re playing like a complete plonker.”  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.  Do you mind if we sit down for a bit?”  “No, I guess not.  Are you feeling rough?  Do you want another pint?”  “No, thanks, just come and sit.  I need to tell you something.”  So we sit either side of a small table, in the dark of the snooker hall and I sip at my beer.  My mind is racing: this is not the Archie I know.  Normally, time spent with Archie is one long stand-up routine: clever quip follows joke follows sarcastic observation and I can’t play snooker for laughing.  He’s looking very pensive and pretty sick, though the table lights reflecting off the green baize make everything look odd.  “There’s no pretty way of saying this” he starts, sounding pained “so I’m just going to spit it out.  Your missus tried to give me a blow job on Christmas Eve, after you went to bed.  I’m sorry.  I was very drunk.  I played along a bit but I had brewer’s droop so it all came to nought.  I’m ashamed of myself and really sorry.”  I’m shocked but I’m not angry.  I try to make sense of what he’s telling me but also to make sense of how I feel about it.  Am I supposed to blow my top, thump him, storm out?  What am I supposed to say?  He’s sitting examining my face, trying to anticipate my reaction, looking as unhappy as a whipped puppy.  I want to put him out of his misery.  “OK, thanks for letting me know, don’t worry about it” I say.  This has made him look even more unhappy.  “What do you mean?” he tries.  I pause.  I’m thinking about Daphne and all she has put me through in the past five years.  I’ve known Archie for far longer and he’s always been a good friend, the sort you need by you in a crisis.  “I mean I don’t think I care.  I mean you should stop beating yourself up: she’s not worth it.  I mean you’re my friend and I’m not going to let that manipulative bitch come between us.”

125.         I really love you.  It thrills me to afford you pleasure.  There is nothing I would not do to heighten your sexual fulfilment, intensify and prolong your orgasm.  You say that you really love me, and I do not doubt you, yet you do not reciprocate my interest in your fulfilment.  Your attitude to our lovemaking distresses me.  It seems you want the experience to fall somewhere between taking a warm bath and cuddling a teddy.  Your “oh, I couldn’t possibly do that!” attitude is incredibly frustrating.  What do you think you are protecting and from whom?  I would never do anything to hurt you or cause you discomfort of any kind.  As I said, I really love you.

126.         I think my libido is way out of control.  I have cravings all day, every day.  I’m sure that this can’t be normal.  I suppose I thought it might diminish as I got older but, if anything, the opposite is true.  I see no reason to ever expect any respite.  Am I turning into the archetypical “dirty old man”?  Well, maybe but dirty old men need love too.

127.         All healthy, female, pre-menopausal, non-pregnant, adult, placental mammals menstruate.  This is no secret.  Why is it such a source of embarrassment?

128.         Is the fear of embarrassment worse than the embarrassment itself?  To what lengths will you go to avoid embarrassment?

129.         I am breathtakingly ugly, stupendously unattractive.  My gorgeous wife, who cannot do enough for me, always provided it is not of a sexual nature, lets me know that she does not want to make love to me, ever.  I should be grateful for the scraps she grudgingly throws me.  I should accept with equanimity any favour she grants me, irrespective of how niggardly it seems.  If I have to beg, then this is right and proper and I should greet the prospect of doing so with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.  My depression and frustration demonstrates conclusively that I am but a mean ingrate.

130.         I’m laughing at my sister again.  She looks so hurt and I feel guilty, but I have to tell her “It’s gaffer tape not Jaffa tape.”

131.         Various people ask me “which came first: the chicken or the egg?”  I find this most irritating.  They seem to believe this is a profound philosophical paradox.  It is not.  Darwin explained this to us two hundred years ago.  The first chicken was born to two “not quite chicken” parents.  It matters not, for the purposes of this argument, which creature we decide is the first one that is chickeny enough to be called a chicken.  Wherever we decide to draw the line between not chickeny enough and chickeny enough, the first chicken was born from an egg.  Therefore, the egg came first.  Now, if you asked me “which came first: the chicken foetus or the egg……………”

132.         I’ve made a will.  I’m told it saves a lot of argy-bargy for those left behind.  I’ve left everything to May.  I put in another clause that says if May does not outlive me by fourteen days then everything goes to Danny and Maria.  If May and I were killed together, in a car crash say, but she outlived me by two minutes, I would not want it all to go to her family.  I also included a goodbye letter for May.

133.         Dear May, if you’re reading this then I’m gone.  (If I’m not gone, do not read on.)  I have five things to tell you.

134.         First, I want to thank you for our time together.  I was at a very low ebb when we met, as I’m sure you realised.  You turned my life around.  You are so loving and giving, so very supportive.  There are times I find myself embarrassed by your goodness.  I love you more than I can find words to express.

135.         Second, on a practical note, my will gives everything to you.  I have appointed Archie as my executor.  There should not be much for him to do but he’s a good man in a storm and you can trust him.  Do not entertain any requests for money from my family, under any circumstances.

136.         Third, do not waste money on my funeral.  Given the abuse I have given my poor body over the years, it would be ludicrous to start molly-coddling it now that it is no longer working.  Give it to medical science, whatever, but remember: my remains are not me and deserve no respect.

137.         Fourth, I know you will grieve and feel guilty because that’s how you are.  Whatever the manner of my passing, you are not to blame.  You know I have no belief in culpability.  You will grieve and that is only natural.  But please do not grieve over-long or waste the remainder of your life grieving.  You let the passing of Molly floor you for years.  Please do not go back there.

138.         Lastly, I’ve had a good life.  I found love along the way.  Even those who loved me for a short time, sustained me.  Those who sought to do me harm, only made me stronger.  I don’t have any regrets.  We always knew that it couldn’t last forever.  There is never a good time to die and so we must accept it when it comes.  So raise a glass and say thanks for what we had.  Embrace the next chapter in your life and make sure that you live it to the full.  Be strong for me.  Goodbye my love.  David.

Wedding Debt

Tags

debt, economics, life, marriage, musings, thoughts, wedding

Your wedding day should be a marvelous, magical and memorable occasion, full of fun and celebration. Every woman wants to be a princess on her wedding day. You want all of your guests to enjoy themselves and go home with a smile in their hearts.

BUT….I see couples spending silly money on weddings. Married life is tough enough without the terrible burden of debt. Memories are good but they wont pay the mortgage!

When I married, nine years ago, the wedding, breakfast, party, both my wife’s dress and my suit, and the honeymoon cost less than £1,300.

I didn’t buy anything that included the word “wedding” as this increases the price ten fold over the identical item without the word.

I made the beers and wines myself.  (It’s really easy to learn how to do this).

My wife chose a dress that she could wear more than once.  (She still wears it occasionally and looks absolutely drop-dead gorgeous).  I chose a suit that I wore for work for a number of years (Maeve’s wonderful cooking eventually took its toll on my figure).

We held the party at home.

We honeymooned in Eire for two weeks and it didn’t rain once!

Everyone had a great time.  None of this is driven by a mean or niggardly attitude on my part: I would have spent more if I believed it would have made anyone happier.

The moral of this story is obvious: you don’t need to haemorrhage money to throw a good wedding bash and starting married life in debt is a MISTAKE!

Sex Life Unfulfilling?

Tags

dating, humour, life, nature, relationships, sex, sex 2, thoughts

Do you think your sex life is unfulfilling? Spare a moment to consider the plight of the male angler fish.

When scientists first studied these creatures, they were surprised to find that all of the fish that they captured were female.  Further, these female fish had male gonads (testicles) attached to them.

Male angler fish are born with a highly developed olfactory function (sense of smell) and mouth parts, but no digestive system.  Their only task in life is to sniff out a female and bite onto her.  An enzyme then devours both his mouth and her body, where bitten, until they meld into each other.  The male slowly atrophies until all that is left are his gonads.  This effectively makes the female hermaphrodite (both male and female).  The male gonads release sperm in response to an enzyme signal whenever an egg is produced.  And so this happy courtship cycle begins again.  Romantic or what?!

Crumbs

Tags

bed, humour, joke, life, poetry, relationships, sex, thoughts

Crumbs in my bed,
Crumbs in my bed,
I’d rather have you but instead,
I’ve got crumbs in my bed!

Sexy Men

Tags

life, musings, rants, relationships, sex, thoughts

Do hetrosexual women like men? It may seem like a stupid question: surely the definition of hetrosexual women is that they find men sexually attractive. Well, yes, of course it is.
But what I hear, with alarming regularity, is something quite different. Often, the answer is “I fancy men but…..” followed by a huge list of caveats, ifs, buts and conditions. Could all of this be summarised to “I fancy men but I wish they were women”? Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but it feels that way at times.

Surely, you want a man to behave like a man, else you don’t want a man!

Now, I know we’re far from perfect; there are things we could do better.  But peddling the “there are only two things wrong with men: everything they do and everything they say” line says to me you have a nasty case of cognitive dissonance.  It’s like keeping your cat in a goldfish bowl: it won’t work.  We don’t belong where you’re trying to put us.  We’re supposed to be different from women: that’s the point!

Naked Names?

Tags

glamour, life, name, photography, sex, thoughts, women

Here’s a very simple experiment that anyone can try. Open Google images; turn off safe search; add a girl’s first name into the search box; press “search”.
Not surprisingly, you will be presented with pages of photos of women who are called the name you chose.
What I found surprising was the huge variance in the dress of the women, depending upon what name you choose. Some names (Roxanne for example) virtually everyone is naked or scantily clad (bikini, lingerie, &c) whereas other names (Geraldine for example) they’re virtually all demurely dressed.

So what does this tell us?  Are women called Roxanne more likely to pose for such photos?  Or are women who pose for such photos more likely to call themselves Roxanne?  If you don’t want your daughter to grow up to be glamour model, are there names you should not call her?  What result does your name give?  If you’ve ever considered stripping for the camera, did your name impinge upon your decision much?

(18Feb2012 add: The difference between “nicole” and “nichole” is amazing!)

This is seriously impressive!

Tags

335, guitar, Jess Lewis, Music, Talent, thoughts

Check out 17y.o. Jess Lewis playing Larry Carlton’s “Room 335″ on YouTube.com. My but she’s good!

Respect.

Tags

age, life, musings, rants, respect, thoughts

I picked Maeve up from work at 1600 Saturday. She asked me if we could detour on our journey home, in order to deliver some milk to an old woman, who had rung her during the afternoon. Apparently, the old woman was house-bound because of the snow and had been unable to make herself a hot drink all day. Maeve said she sounded really frail and pathetic on the ‘phone: naturally I said yes.  I further suggested that we could nip down to the supermarket for her, if she needed anything else.  The distance between the woman’s house and the supermarket is less than ten minutes walk.

I waited outside in the car whilst Maeve made the milk delivery.  I could not have predicted the tale she related when she emerged.  The woman’s two teenage grandsons were playing upstairs and refusing to answer her calls.  She said that her son drops his children off at her house every weekend and he takes her car.  Words fail me!

Rainbow Trout

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

Rainbow trout, rainbow trout, come and get your rainbow trout.
All colours in stock.

Make strong coffee for your hamster.

Tags

hamster, humour, joke, sleep

We don’t want him falling asleep at the wheel.

Valentine’s Day

Tags

life, musings, rants, relationships, sex, thoughts

Enough already people!
If you really need the card companies to organise a day you can tell your loved one how you feel, then you’re very sad indeed!
Oh, and I’ve only been at work two hours and I’m already utterly sick of the nonsense. Grow up!

Lottery Win

Tags

humour, joke, life, lottery, millions, money, thoughts

Q. You’ve won millions but you’ve failed to keep your name a secret. What will you do with all the begging letters?

A. Keep sending them.

Compensation Culture

Tags

law, life, musings, thoughts

This info taken from “The Lincolnite” http://thelincolnite.co.uk/2012/02/lincoln-lawyer-the-uk-compensation-culture-fallacy/

Lincoln Lawyer: The UK compensation culture fallacyFebruary 17, 2012 at 9.45am by Katherine Jones

—Katherine Jones is a law graduate who trained with McKinnells Solicitors in Lincoln. She is now a solicitor in the busy personal injury department.

——————————————————————————–

To be able to claim compensation, any accident victim has to show that the accident was someone else’s fault, that they have been injured (proven by an independent specialist doctor or medical consultant) and that they have suffered loss. If they can’t show this, they won’t be paid a penny, despite what you might read in the newspapers to the contrary.

The prime minister has said he wants to ”wage war” (something recent prime ministers seem to do rather a lot) against an all-pervasive compensation culture. This simply ignores the government’s own research evidence. This found that, in fact, there is no such culture in the UK.

Narrowing the attack even more, the government is now demonizing victims of whiplash injuries, suggesting that in many cases where a claim is brought, there is no such injury.

Imagine you are driving home one night. You stop at traffic lights. Someone driving a car behind you is driving too quickly and not paying attention. Their car rams into yours. You are taken unaware. Your head snaps backwards, hits the seat rest and jerks forward.

Sometime later the symptoms emerge, you have headaches, nausea, stiffness and lack of mobility. Your neck is affected, but your back could be too. You can hardly move. The symptoms could last a few days or a few months. All of which are medically recognized symptoms.

In the legal text book which sets out details of reported accident cases there are over 200 pages dealing with successful whiplash claims, so it is hard to see where the government is coming from in doubting its existence.

So, still imagining you have had this injury, how are you going to feel if when you want to claim back your lost earnings because you could not go to work, the cost of prescriptions for painkillers, the excess on your car insurance policy for the repairs, let alone compensation for the pain and suffering, you are made to feel like a benefits cheat or a shoplifter, as if what you were doing was somehow wrong?

All anyone wants, in these circumstances, and all the law allows them to receive, is to be put back in the position they would have been in as if the accident had not happened. So there is no profit element.

Ask accident victims if they would have preferred not to have had the accident in the first place or to have had it and been paid some compensation, most would chose not to have had the pain, distress, inconvenience and cost. Hardly a compensation culture, Mr. Cameron

Shrinking Packets

Tags

law, life, musings, rants, thoughts

Do food manufacturers really think that we don’t notice their products getting smaller? Do they imagine their customers to be morons? Well, we’re not. We know what you’re doing. We think it’s an underhand, sneaky, dirty trick and we despise you for it. If you want customer loyalty: treat us right!

Yes, we know it’s legal and yes, we know the weight is printed on the packet.  But we also know that your action is excuted in the hope that we won’t notice, i.e. a deliberate attempt to mislead and deceive.  It stinks and you should be ashamed.

Labour Party

Goes to war whenever the USA asks.
Persecutes asylum seekers.
Bails out banks with public money.

Courts despots.
Pays fat-cat bonuses.

“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.”

ABC

Tags

life, musings, sex, thoughts

I’ve been nominated for the Awesome Blog Content award by Kofegeek  http://kofegeek.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/awesome-blog-content-award/. I am most flattered by that. Here’s my attempt to comply with the format:

1. We have to say thank you to the person who nominated.

Thank you so much Kofegeek.  I am flattered and chuffed that you took the trouble to reward me so.

2. Nominee other bloggers with awesome blog content to receive ABC award.

I found this very difficult.  There are so many excellent blogs on WordPress and I enjoy reading all of them, even when I don’t agree with the content.  So apologies to those excluded.  These are the few (in no particular order) that gave me a little bit extra:

http://lif3goeson.wordpress.com/ for the beautiful language.

http://inlovewithlacy.wordpress.com/ for the honesty.

http://adultsatires2.wordpress.com for the “in your face” anything goes, no holds barred, WYSIWYGiness.

http://56menandothermistakes.wordpress.com for the stories

http://thetruthaboutsellingsex.wordpress.com ’cos I learnt so much

3. You must share some things about you, an alphabetical list of words each beginning with a letter of the alphabet and each being a descriptive word about you.

A = arsehole.  I think what I think.  I should listen more.

B = brewer.  I make my own booze. (see V)

B = big. 6′-4″ 1.93m, size 14 feet (US) 47 (EU) (see F)

C = cuddly.  I’m told I’m nice to hug. (see F)

D = disappointed.  There are so many things I think should be better.

F = fat.  111kg – I need to lose a few tonnes.

G = guitars.  My third favourite passtime (see S & W).

I = intelligent.  Well, I think I am! (see A)

M = money.  Never enough of it.

O = opinionated.  (see A & D)

O = oral. (see S, T & W)

R = Robert.  That’s me.  Named after uncle Bob (Dad’s version) or Robert Mitchum (Mother’s version): take your pick.

S = sex.  My favourite passtime. (see O, T & W)

T = tongue.  (see O, S & W)

V = vintner.  I grow grapes and make my own booze (see B)

W = women.  I like women a lot: I like to be with them, I like to listen to them, I like to play with them.  (see O, S & T)

Long Grasses!

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

(complaint in a Chinese opticians)

Lament the demise of exit signs.

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

They’re on the way out.

Country Folk

Tags

behaviour, life, musings, rants, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

I thought they had a reputation for being friendly? This photo taken on Little Thorpe Lane, Thorpe-on-the-Hill, Lincolnshire. Does this constitute a threat, I wonder?

Healthy vs. Attractive

Tags

life, love, muscular, musings, relationships, sex, skinny, slim, thoughts

Are healthy and attractive the same thing?
Are modern conceptions (or fashions) of beauty consistent with seeking a successful mating partner?

The media seem to tell us that tall, slim, leggy women, with large breasts; and tall, muscular men, with big jaws, are the most attractive.  But are they the most successful at producing healthy babies?  Maybe, it’s a circular arguement: they’re the most successful at attracting prospective mates, and so the fashion in body shape is effectively written into our (un)natural selection process.

I wonder what this means for the future of the human race?

My belly rumbles with a Northern Irish accent!

Tags

belly, humour, joke, life, musings, northern ireland, thoughts, ulster

Do you think I’ve got a stomach Ulster?

Butty

Tags

English, Language, life, musings, rants, thoughts

I get criticised for using the word “butty” to describe my lunch. Two slices of bread with a filling, I’m told, should be known as a “sandwich”. This name was coined during the eighteenth century after John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, who was fond of a butty when he was out killing defenceless animals.

I’m no historian, but I believe that folk were eating food this way for thousands of years before John was even born.  So my answer is no, I won’t abandon “butty” and call my lunch after some upper-class twit.

Colour Combination

Tags

beauty, dating, glamour, life, musings, photography, relationships, sex, thoughts

There is something about the combination of black or very dark hair with blue eyes that I find intensely attractive. I used to think that it was just because it is a relatively rare combination, blue eyes being more associated with light hair and black hair more with brown eyes, but now I’m not sure that’s the whole story. I can’t really explain why it affects me so.  I just know that whenever I see it, something goes twang within me.  Gorgeous!

Natalie Imbruglia, Courtney Cox, Katy Perry, Jessica Szohr, Michelle Trachtenberg, Megan Fox,

Before I Go To Sleep

Tags

life, novel, thoughts, writing

I’ve just finished reading this novel. I commend it to you. I really enjoyed it.  It has a very clever plot and leaves you guessing the outcome until the last few pages: well worth the effort!

Skinny Models

Tags

beauty, desire, glamour, love, model, musings, sex, slim, thoughts

I am disappointed with myself. I know it’s wrong and shallow and sends out all the wrong signals. I realise that it’s bad on so many levels, for me, for the women concerned, even for the women excluded. So I confess it as a weakness on my part and hang my head in shame: I like skinny models.

I know it’s not healthy or politically correct.  I hear and accept all of the arguements about anorexia and eating disorders.  But these are reasoned arguements and do not effect the way I feel.  What am I to do?

My only defence (and I realise this is pretty lame) is that my wife is naturally very slim, so it would be difficult for me to go on record as preferring the fuller figure, even if it was true, domestic bliss notwithstanding.  Guilty as charged!

Wee Euphemism

Tags

behaviour, Experience, joke, life, musings, thoughts

We all need to urinate from time to time. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just a basic body function.
We feel the need to explain and excuse our temporary absence from any gathering: it’s just polite to do so. It is not considered polite, however, to anounce that one is departing to urinate, so one must create another form of words. What fun!
1. My Mother used to tell us she was going to “powder her nose“. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

2. My old pal Colin Tricklebank used to tell us he was going to “splash his boots“: far too graphic, I thought.

3. My elder brother likes to “syphon the python“. That’s just boastful.

4. John Tyler feels the need to “turn his bike round“.  I love this.

5 “Point Percy at the porcelain” is quaint.

6. Vince needs a “gypsy’s kiss” but that’s just rhyming slang.

7. “Inspect the facilities” sounds too Victorian to me.

8. “Spend a penny” just lacks imagination.

What do you use?

Genocide: Nubia & Dinka

Tags

life, musings, politics, rants, thoughts, war

The Sudan Government is engaged in genocide against its own people. The Arab legislation is burning villages, burning crops, destroying wells, killing cattle, stealing grain stores in an attempt to drive the non-arab peoples from Sudan.  These people are utterly helpless against well armed troops and air-strikes. They have no oil or other natural resources to tempt the West to intervene on their behalf.

Malapropisms

Tags

English, humour, joke, Language, thoughts, writing

Named after Mrs. Malaprop in Richard Sheridan’s play The Rivals (1775) and always worthy of a giggle:

“Early grave tea” – me

“Electrocution lessons to help improve diction.”

“Haunted house?  Get the vicar to circumcise it.” – J. Cooper.

“A sexagenarian? At his age? That’s disgusting” – actress Gracie Allen.

“I’m suing you for definition of character!”

“Sorry, I’m just playing devil’s advocado for a moment.”

“A wolf in cheap clothing…”

“The equator is a menagerie lion running around the centre of the earth”

“Your ambition – is that right – is to abseil across the English channel?” – Cilla Black

“It is beyond my apprehension.” – Danny Ozark, baseball team manager

“Legend in his own lunch-time”

“This is unparalyzed in the state’s history.” – Gib Lewis, Texas Speaker of the House

“My brother has extra-century perception.”

He drove a hunchback car, wore bisexual glasses and corridor trousers.”

“LHC : the large hard-on collider….”

“Is that a coleslaw on your lip?”

“She’s really tough; she’s remorseful.” – David Moorcroft

“I might just fade into Bolivian” - Mike Tyson, Boxer

“And then he [Mike Tyson] will have only channel vision.” – Frank Bruno, boxer

“If I were an octopus I’d spank you with all my testicles”

“I’ll be the pilot, you be the alligator.”

“Marie Scott… has really plummeted to the top.” – Alan Weeks

“He’s going up and down like a metronome.” – Ron Pickering

“Michelangelo painted the sixteenth chapel”

“We cannot let terrorists and rogue nations hold this nation hostile or hold our allies hostile.” – George W. Bush

“He was a man of great statue.” – Thomas Menino, Boston mayor

“I always lose my prawns at chest.”

“Good punctuation is not being late”.

“Republicans understand the importance of bondage between a mother and child.” – Dan Quayle, Vice President

“If Gower had stopped that [cricket ball] he would have decapitated his hand.”
- Farokh Engineer

“We seem to have unleased a hornet’s nest.” – Valerie Singleton

“This series has been swings and pendulums all the way through.” – Trevor Bailey, cricket commentator

“Be sure and put some of those neutrons on it.” – Mike Smith, ordering a salad.

Slowest Thing In The Universe

Tags

human resources, humour, joke, life, musings, rants, thoughts, work

I used to talk about “snail’s pace” but this doesn’t even begin to cut it: a snail shows signs of life.

Then I thought about “glacial speed” but I rejected that because you can actually see a glacier moving.

I even tried “plate tectonic slow”.  Now we’re getting close.  It does take a tectonic plate a very long time to get where it’s going.

But I’ve decided the slowest thing in the universe must be an H.R. Department.  (that’s human remains or human resources, take your pick!).  It’s been the same at every company I ever worked at: bloody useless on a good day.

Is it part of the training of an H.R. Officer to see how long they can sit absolutely still?  Are their brains set to a two year delay?  Are they off-spring of Ents?  Is “urgent” a dirty word in H.R. speak?

It’s like plaiting fog!

My Princess

Tags

life, love, musings, relationships, sex, thoughts

128 months yesterday we’ve been together. Still, by far, the best thing that ever happened to me. Talented, caring, funny, clever, interesting, gorgeous: what more could any man ask for?

Taboo Subject

Tags

behaviour, life, love, masturbate, psychology, rants, relationships, sex, thoughts

“There are only two kinds of people on this earth: those who don’t masturbate and those who tell the truth.”
Mental health is built on good self-image.
Good self-image is built on being comfortable with the things we do, our desires and aspirations.
Making harmless private pleasure a taboo subject is unhealthy for everyone.
p.s. leaning against the washing machine on spin cycle counts!

Hysteresis

Tags

life, musings, thoughts

Dependance of a system on not only its current environment but also its past environment. I don’t want to get too technical here (I know a lot of folk find that a real bore). Think about your lightswitch. It doesn’t switch the light on in the same position as it switches the light off. That’s a desireable set up and what gives the switch its positive feel. And that, in a nutshell, is hysteresis.

Don’t ride the carousel.

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

For fear of disease.
(There’s something going around).

Mouth

Tags

life, love, musings, oral, relationships, sex, thoughts

Don’t tell me
What you can’t do
Show me
What you can do

Lewis Caroll – Was He A Prophet?

Tags

life, musings, thoughts, walrus, writing

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax,
Of cabbages, and kings,
And why the sea is boiling hot,
And whether pigs have wings”

Long Legs

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, sex, thoughts

Sure, I have long legs.
But if they were any shorter,
My feet wouldn’t reach the floor.

Tattoos

Tags

glamour, life, musings, rants, self-image, tattoo, thoughts

Are they the antithesis of fashion?
I confess that I don’t like either, fashion or tattoos that is. Tattoos always look cheap and tacky to me.  But fashion (as I understand it) is about following trends and constant change, whereas tattoos are permanent. So is the phrase “fashionable tattoo” an oxymoron?

I had the misfortune to live in Broxtowe for a while.  They say “you can spot a classy bird in Broxtowe ‘cos all her tattoos are spelt right”.  (Their words, not mine).

Beautiful As Ever

Tags

humour, Language, life, musings, sex, thoughts

If I told you that you were “as beautiful as ever”, chances are, you’d be chuffed.
If I told you that you were “as ugly as ever”, chances are, you’d be insulted.
Both of these statements mean exactly the same thing: that is, your position the scale from ugly to beautiful is the same as it ever was.  Strange how the connotation changes everything.

Lulu

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

I think Lulu should move to Hawaii.
(I hear she’s honoured there)

Worship

Tags

ego, life, musings, religion, self-esteem, self-image, thoughts, worship

If I were a god, would I want to be worshipped? Doesn’t seem a very intelligent demand on (supposedly) lesser beings. Do gods have fragile egos?
Maybe the worship is not to benefit any god but suits the purposes of their appointed(?) arbiters on Earth, i.e. priests, rabbis, mullahs and the like.

Great British Hero

Tags

cunt, David Cameron, life, musings, politics, rants, thief, thoughts, tory snake, treacherous, villain

We have a wonderful tradition of folk heros in the U.K. Nothing inspires the poplace better than a strong man who takes from the poor in order to feed the rich. No, wait a moment, that can’t be right, surely?

Public Industry

Tags

industry, management, musings, nhs, politics, public, rants, thoughts

I work in private industry. I have done so for my entire working life: that’s around thirty-four years. I don’t have a problem with entrepreneurs investing money and making a profit: that’s the world we live in and my livelihood depends upon it.

My gripe is with the way the public versus private industry argument is panning out. The accepted wisdom seems to be that private industry does things cheaper. Well, that may be true but, if it is, there is something seriously awry. Whatever the cost of providing goods and/or services, private industries must make a profit on top, in order to repay their owners and survive. So, it follows, private industry must be more expensive. Must, that is, provided public industry is as well run as private. And there is the catch!

Now, I know I can be a bit of a cynic at times. Well, quite a lot of a cynic most of the time really. When I’m faced with a problem like this, I ask myself “who stands to profit from this failure?”. So that’s easy: private industry clearly does. What is less clear to me are the mechanisms that private industry might employ to ensure that public industry is badly run.

A few corrupt politicians would be a good starting point. If you could force public industries to bid for work, that would put a huge burden on them, particularly if you could force them to break up their processes into smaller sub-processes, each of which could be subject to a bidding war. That might leave you with a fractured process and all sorts of interface problems that would, in turn, introduce further cost and inefficiency. In a matter of a few years, you’d have an unholy hotchpotch of public and private mixed, with the public carrying the cost. Then it’s so easy to justify a “major overhaul”, leaving just the parts public that private industry can’t make a profit on, giving as much as possible to private industry because everyone can see that they’re cheaper. Can’t they?

Rich

Tags

economics, life, musings, politics, rants, thoughts

A friend of mine posted this on his Facebook page. I thought I’d share it with you.

Elegy

Tags

film, life, love, musings, relationships, sex, thoughts

I saw this film last night and really enjoyed it.  If you haven’t seen it, then I commend it to you.  It deals with life and death, love and lust, and growing up.  It reminded me a little of “Alfie” (Michael Caine or Jude Law) as it’s a serious treatment of the same subject.  The acting of both Ben Kingsley and Penélope Cruz is first class, and the whole film is thoughtfully put together by Spanish director Isabel Coixet.  Philip Roth wrote the original novel, (The Dying Animal) on which it is based.

Challenge

Tags

insight, life, musings, path, thoughts

Never avoid the thought that stings,
Catch it full force and use the power,
Challenge yourself and everyone gains,
Find a new path to real insight.

Aggression

Tags

behaviour, life, musings, psychology, thoughts

Next time you’re faced with aggression.
Remember that it’s a symptom of fear.
Makes coping a bit easier.

Sex Survey

Tags

humour, joke, life, love, relationships, sex, thoughts

I thought it was high time I discovered the true nature of my readership. I can’t go on writing for you if I don’t know what you’re really like. And so, in the best tradition of Girls Own Paper, I’ve devised a survey. Please be dishonest.

1.  Who or what (real, historical or fictional) would you most like to frolic with?  (your secret is safe with me)

2.  Who or what would you least like to frolic with? (species not important)

3. What things or events most get you in the mood? (be inventive)

4. Is there a special place where you dream of being wooed? (geographically speaking, not anatomically)

5. What is the biggest turn-off for you? (be specific)

6. Do you have unfulfilled fantasies? (at your age?)

7. What time of day are you usually randiest? (assuming you’re awake)

8. Do feelings of inadequacy dog your love life? (be pathetic)

9. What do you think of people who commission sex surveys? (be gentle)

Stag Do

Tags

life, marriage, musings, relationships, stag night, thoughts, travel, wedding

My pal Chris is getting hitched in a few weeks. This weekend, a bunch of us are off to Cardiff, to celebrate his impending loss of freedom. We’ll be watching Cardiff Blues versus Llanelli Scarlets (that’s Rugby Union); out for a meal; then out on the razzle: should be fun!

So I will be incommunicado for most of the weekend. No blogs or feedback from me, sorry.
Rob.

Poignant

Tags

life, musings, poetry, politics, thoughts

I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered,
Don’t have a friend who feels at ease.
Don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered,
Or driven to it’s knees.
But it’s all right, all right,
We’ve lived so well so long,
Still, when I think of the road we’re traveling on,
I wonder what went wrong.
- words by Paul Simon American Tune c.1973

Alcohol Tax

Tags

alcohol, drink, economics, home brew, life, musings, tax, thoughts

Make your own.
Don’t do no taxable drugs, man!
It’s so easy to learn and the outlay for equipment is quite modest.
Most cities will have a club of folk willing to help.

http://www.lincolnwinecircle.org.uk/

I’ve been tagged!

The rules of this tagging are:

1.You must post these rules
2.Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post
3.Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged
4.Tag eleven people with a link to your post. Let them know you tagged them.
The questions I must answer are:

1.What do you really like that nobody else seems to enjoy at all?

Classical guitar (nobody I know, that is)

2.What thing from childhood (besides youth) do you wish you still had?

Hope
3.If you could change just one event in history – what, how and why?

“Enlightened” Europe would have smashed the fascists in Ethiopia and Spain, and avoided WWII

4.Favorite pizza toppings?

Chillies

5.Favorite NON-alcoholic beverage?

Orange Juice
6.Place you’ve never visited but would love to?

India
7.Favorite old movie?

Hard Days Night
8.Guilty musical pleasure?

Playing guitar badly.
9.You’ve won a huge lottery!

Where will I live?

10.Modern convenience you just can’t live without?

Internet.
11.Do you really like question lists like these?

Can’t make my mind up.
And now my new questions…

1.) What do you want to be when you grow up?

It seems so unlikely, it’s hardly worth answering.
2.) If you had to marry a circus performer, who would it be?

Contorsionist.
3.) Cake or pie?

Either provided they’re not too sweet.  I like fruit pies without sugar, cheese and onions pies, and christmas cake without the icing.
4.) Favorite accent?

West Indian or Jordie
5.) If you don’t know someone’s name, but you need to address them as SOMETHING, what do you call them?

I rarely remember anyone’s name.  I’ve given up being embarrassed about it.  I just ask them who they are again.  If they get upset: so be it, I’ve done my best.
6.) Endless money or endless plastic surgery?

Stupid question: money (you can buy plastic surgery, not that I would)
7.) Endless money and no legs, or poor with one leg?

Money and no leges
8.) Have sex or go out to dinner?

Sex (I’m a good cook)
9.) Give or get oral sex?

I struggle with this.  I love both.  I prefer both at the same time.
10.) Fuck a priest or a homeless person?

Definitely homeless person.  Wouldn’t trust a priest as far as I could throw him.
11.) Play on Facebook or go to the opera?

Facebook, can’t abide opera: always sounds so pompous to me.

1. Do you know what reality is?

2. What do you think of science and scientists?

3. Is free-will an illusion?

4. Do you think life has a purpose?

5. What would you like your legacy to be?

6. Is equality achievable?

7. Are you “proud” of the country of your birth?

8. Does charity work?

9. Are any acts truely altruistic?

10. Does fame hold any attraction for you?

11. What would prompt you to take up arms?

 

Thick As Thieves

Tags

life, love, musings, rants, relationships, sex, thoughts

My present wife, previous wives and girlfriends, sisters, even mother: they all do it.  There is a permanent bond, understanding and support network between them and any other woman we might meet.  The battle lines are drawn: male versus female. All the signs are there: the knowing looks, the roll of the eyes, the pity.  Mostly, it’s on a jokey level: there’s no real plot against me.  But I’m guilty before I do anything.  They’ve agreed I’m in the wrong before they’ve even spoken to one another.  I know how a tsetse fly must feel.

Football’s Better Face

Tags

life, musings, thoughts

I feel it is worthy to note the way the wider football community has responded to the plight of Bolton midfielder Fabrice Muamba, who suffered a cardiac arrest at White Hart Lane (Tottenham Hotspurs’ ground) on 24th March.  According to news reports, Fabrice is recovering well.

Football fans have acquired a poor reputation, often deserved, over many years.  I was heartened to see so many rival fans, both in England and beyond, declare their support and best wishes for Fabrice.  This is no media organised stunt but a genuine coming together of the football community, united in sympathy and concern for a stricken player.  Get well soon Fabrice!

Is Religion Organised Laziness?

Tags

life, musings, thoughts

Most people have a natural curiosity about where things come from and how they work. It has been so since prehistory. The ancients did not have our methods or tools of enquiry. When they ran out of explanation, it was easy and convenient to attribute to god.

We still don’t understand everything: not even nearly. There’s an argument that says we never will. But the frontiers of understanding grow at a greater rate with every passing day.

A caveman may be forgiven for marvelling at the sunrise and, in the absence of a better explanation, thanking a god. Isaac Newton explained plantary motion three hundred years ago but was unavailable for the caveman.

“Act of god” is enshrined in English law.  Even the law doesn’t allow for the intervention of a supernatural being.  It’s just a soubriquet for something that we accept as chance and don’t have an adequate explanation for.

Next time you hear “miracle of life”, think about what it really means.

The End Is Nigh

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

BBC Radio 4′s Today Programme had me howling with laughter on my drive to work this morning.  John Humphries was interviewing a doctor who had conducted some research into how playing a little soothing music to patients during minor surgical procedures can make the experience much more pleasant for them.  No great surprise there, you might say, and I’d agree.  But then John went on to play some examples of the soothing music and first up was Frank Sinatra, My Way “and now, the end is near, and so I face, the final curtain”!  Good choice John!

Beauty

Tags

beauty, face, glamour, life, musings, sex, thoughts

Beauty: what is it?  Why do I find some women attractive and others not so?  I find it difficult to find a definition which fulfills all eventualities.  There are factors such as symmetry, eye size, clarity of skin, age, mouth size which impinge regularly but none of these guarantee either inclusion or exclusion.  Am I just being perverse?

B.J.

Tags

blow job, humour, joke, life, musings, olympics, sex, thoughts

Some pervert (my friend Kim, to be exact) suggests that the London 2012 Olympic logo looks like Lisa Simpson giving someone a blow-job. I can’t see it. What do you think?

It’s National Cleavage Day

Tags

humour, life, musings, rants, sex, thoughts

Why?
I enjoy the figures of beautiful women like any red-blooded male: but a national day to celebrate?!

What’s the point?

Book I Couldn’t Put Down

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

“Anti-gravity For Beginners”

Democracy

Tags

life, musings, peace, politics, thoughts, war

Does democracy guarantee good governance? I say no.
Does democracy guarantee freedom? I say no.
Does democracy guarantee equality? I say no.
Does democracy protect minorities? I say no.

Does democracy guarantee the rule of law?  I say no.

Does democracy ensure that everyone gets fed?  I say no.

Does democracy eradicate corruption?  I say no.

Apparently, “we” are committed to peddling democracy as the political system of choice to the world.

In this great democracy of ours, how do I vote for peace?

Cheated!

Tags

life, musings, rants, thoughts

My neighbour bled to death in an operating theatre at Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham on Wednesday. She was undergoing a “routine” operation on her spine, when a major artery was punctured and, despite four hours fighting, the surgeons were unable to save her.
She was aged 41; christened her first grandchild the previous weekend; lauched a new business with her fiance late last year, and was due to be married this summer.

I saw her playing with her 13 y.o. son, on his trampoline, in their garden, on Tuesday evening and thought what a big kid she looked: as ever, full of joie de vivre.

She was a good friend to me.  I’m still coming to terms with how I feel about all of this.  She’d been through some tough times, been a single mother for years, and just when things were really starting to come together for her………..

Goodbye Vettie.

Cheated II

Tags

life, musings, relationships, thoughts

My gorgeous wife Maeve, who doesn’t have a nasty bone in her body, did a very silly thing yesterday. Those of you who read “Cheated” here yesterday will know the feeling of helplessness we’re all suffering at present. Maeve has not had an easy life and suffers loss like this very badly. I have found her weeping several times in the past few days. All of this grief and helplessness bubbles over. Yesterday she baked a cake for Yvette’s daughter and left it on their doorstep. I realise it’s dumb and pointless but I didn’t have the heart to criticise her. I can only hope that it will be received in the spirit that it was given.

Breasts

Tags

behaviour, life, love, musings, relationships, sex, thoughts

The biological basis of behaviour interests me.  We don’t like to think of ourselves as animals, indeed it’s considered quite an insult.  How often do we try to find cerebral justifications for behaviour that is actually just following animal instinct?

Breasts get a lot of attention.  I freely admit that I am a big fan!  Why is this so?

There is no one simple answer.

Developed breasts are one of the defining characteristics of a sexually mature woman.  So it makes sense for people who are seeking a mate to focus on breasts: men to be attracted, women to use them as bait.

Taking a “law of the jungle” view of the human race, babies, gestating and nursing women are incredibly vulnerable.  Our defence against this vulnerability is the bond between sexual partners.  We generally call this love but it’s born of a genetic imperative to ensure the protection and nurture of off-spring.  Nursing women have swollen breasts, so it is not surprising that these are a trigger to men to want to bond.

So next time a women tells you you’re an animal for leering at her breasts, tell her she’s quite correct.

Rabbit

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

I’ve heard there’s a team of scientists trying to breed a super-fast male rabbit. I reckon they’re just trying to make a quick buck.

It’s very bad to carry rabbits around by the ears: it makes them lazy.

Cricket

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

There’s talk of a major overhaul of the rules of cricket. In future, a batsman may only be out if he’s stumped, LBW or bowled.
Well, I know what you’re thinking: “where’s the catch?”

Flowers for Algernon

Tags

life, musings, novel, thoughts, writing

I finished reading this book last night. I read very little science fiction. I think most of it is just silly. But I found Flowers for Algernon very convincing and, in a perverse way, quite endearing. I have not read anything by Daniel Keyes before but I think I shall seek out some of his other offerings.

If you’ve not read this book, I recommend you give it a go.

Driving Apology

Tags

life, musings, thoughts

We all make mistakes, hopefully not too many.
As a pedestrian, if you bump into someone or let a door swing into someone, it’s so easy to say “sorry” or “excuse me”, even to make amends in some way.
When you’re behind the wheel, it’s a very different matter. Encased in steel and glass, it’s virtually impossible to express contrition or apology without looking like a complete nutter. Any gesture looks insincere or just plain weird. Also, you have to keep driving and maintain (or resurrect!) safety, so options are limited.
Does anyone have a good solution for this?

Xenophile

Tags

life, musings, thoughts

I’m signed up to a dictionary website that delivers a “word of the day” email every day.  A bit sad, I know, but etymology interests me.  Today’s word is Xenophilia: an attraction to foreign peoples, cultures, or customs.  I like that.  I think it describes me quite well.

Drought

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, rants, thoughts

We’re officially in drought in the East of England. There’s been a hose-pipe ban in place for ten days. Every time I venture out in the drought I get drenched to the skin. It’s droughting it down, cats and dogs, as I write. I wish we could get back to good old Blighty weather so I can remain dry.

Genitals

Tags

life, musings, psychology, rants, self-esteem, self-image, sex, thoughts

A thought prompted by a short piece I heard on Radio 4 last night. What did you teach your children to call their genitals? Surveys suggest anything but their proper names. So, is there something embarrassing about the words penis, scrotum, vulva and vagina? And if we teach our children words like willy, front bottom, foo-foo, and the like, what message are we sending out? Are we saying that these body parts are something to be ashamed of?
Children are “blank canvasses” and will accept whatever terminology we give them. Are we giving them the wrong words to save ourselves embarrassment?  And, if so, are we doing them a disservice?

Gratify

Tags

life, love, musings, sex, thoughts, writing

When I’m tuned to the magnificent tawdriness
And feline grace, sincere, saturated, symphony
Is prehensile with demonic arousal
When the inexorable drift is palpable
Velvet touch exerts an essence of decision
Every evoked image is a looking glass
Saturated and implacable, a grasping suite
For fetishstic convalescence
Then come to me
Bring embrocation and calm.

Euphemism

Tags

fun, humour, joke, Language, life, musings, thoughts, writing

A euphemism is a substitution of an agreeable or less offensive expression in place of one that may offend or suggest something unpleasant to the listener. We’re all familiar with “passed away” for “died”, for example. Some are created with humour or parody in mind. I’ve compiled a list of these and invite contribution from others:

“Calling Hughie” for “Vomiting”.

“Bats In The Belfry” for “Mad”.

“The Lift Doesn’t Go To The Top Floor” for “Mentally Retarded”

“Tired And Emotional” for “Drunk”.
“Being Economical With The Truth” for “Lying”.
“Terminological Inexactitude” for “Lie”
“Commercial Sex Worker” for “Prostitute”.
“Brother Of The Gusset” for “Pimp”.
“Peace Keeper” for “ICBM”.
“Irish Banjo” for “Shovel”.
“Assume Room Temperature” for “Die”.
“Playing Hide The Sausage” or “Bedroom Rodeo” for “Sexual Intercourse”.
“Vatican Roulette” for “Rhythm Method”.
“Caramelised” for “Burnt”.
“Rogue State” for “Won’t Accept McDonalds”.
“Terrorist” for “Not Killing For Us”.

This is a not blog.

Tags

life, musings, thoughts

It’s my birthday today: I have, against all odds, reached the ripe old age of fifty-three. Who would have thought?
So I’m celebrating today and not blogging.
This is the not blog that I’m not blogging.

At work, we have a custom of bringing goodies in on our birthdays.  My pulchritudinous wife made eighty sausage rolls and cheese & onion rolls for me.  I served them up at 1000 yesterday and by 1008 there was not a crumb left.  I think I work with locusts.

What’s this thing called love?

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, sex, thoughts

You have to be sure you get the stress in the right place in a question like this.

Micky and Minnie

Tags

humour, joke, life, love, musings, relationships, sex, thoughts

Micky goes to see his analyst. After an hour on the couch, weeping and bleating, Micky is sniffling and awaiting some feedback.
“Well Micky” says the analyst “I still don’t think I understand: you say you want to divorce Minnie because she’s got buck teeth?!

“I didn’t say she had buck teeth, I said she was fucking Goofy!”

(it’s an old joke but worthy of resurrection, I think)

The more people I meet, the more I like my dog.

Tags

humour, life, musings, relationships, thoughts

Why can’t folk be more like Smudge? I get so tired of the double dealing, the posturing, the politics, the fragile egos. I’m a very simple man. It takes very little to make me happy.
Smudge is totally WYSIWYG and utterly devoted to me. I think rest of the world should follow her example.

Terrible Fear

Tags

dating, life, love, marriage, musings, psychology, relationships, Self-control, self-esteem, self-image, sex, thoughts

I realise that I have a terrible fear. It haunts and gnaws at me.
When I’m too old or infirm to have sex any longer, what if I still want it?

Faith

Tags

life, musings, religion, thoughts

Some dictionary definitions, unadulterated by me:

Faith: allegiance to duty or a person: belief and trust in and loyalty to God: belief in the traditional doctrines of a religion: firm belief in something for which there is no proof: complete trust: something that is believed especially with strong conviction: a system of religious beliefs.

Knowledge: familiarity with someone or something, which can include facts, information, descriptions, or skills acquired through experience or education. It can refer to the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject. It can be implicit (as with practical skill or expertise) or explicit (as with the theoretical understanding of a subject); and it can be more or less formal or systematic.

Charlatan: a person who makes elaborate, fraudulent, and often voluble claims to skill or knowledge; a quack or fraud.

Status quo: a commonly used form of the original Latin “statu quo” – literally “the state in which” – is a Latin term meaning the current or existing state of affairs. To maintain the status quo is to keep the things the way they presently are. The related phrase status quo ante, literally “the state in which before”, means “the state of affairs that existed previously”.

Hedge one’s bets: to reduce the risk of making a mistake, by keeping one’s options open.

My Favourite Laurel & Hardy Gag

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

Oly: How do you manage to say so many stupid things in one day?
Stan: I get up early.

Can’t tell the time

Tags

humour, life, musings, thoughts, work

I seem to be at work an hour early this morning.
I aimed to be here by 0700 but it’s only 0559.
I think I’m going senile!

In the dog house.

Tags

life, love, marriage, musings, relationships, thoughts

My missus gets up at 0340 on Monday and Friday mornings. She starts work at 0400, sorting the papers for the rounds from the local newsagents. Last week, I inadvertently left my box of glasses from the wine circle in the hallway and she fell over it. Now she’s limping around with badly bruised leg and toes, and a bloody great gash in her shin.
This episode has cost me a serious number of brownie points.

Reader Not Working?

Tags

rants

I can’t get the reader function to work on either my home or work P.C. Is any one else suffering so, or is it just me?

True Colours

Tags

law, life, musings, politics, rants, thoughts

The parliamentary committee were unanimous: News International had lied, cheated, bribed, broken the law, betrayed the trust of the public. The Labour and Liberal Democrat members all said that made Rupert Murdoch unfit to manage a multi-national media corporation. The Conservative members all said it didn’t mean that at all. Presumably, it’s “business as usual” for the Tories.  Kindred spirits perchance?

Dr. Hedgeh

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts, work

Poor bloke: it doesn’t seem an unreasonable request.
Bet it doesn’t work though.

Doom & Gloom

Tags

life, musings, politics, rants, thoughts

A Labour Party supporting friend of mine posted on Facebook this morning “Labour beats the coalition in the local elections: it’s not all doom and gloom”.  I don’t agree.  The turn-out was less than one third of those entitled to vote.  So even with the major gains that Labour have made in the councils around the country, it’s hardly a glowing approval or unequivocal mandate from the people. One may argue that the coalition have lost, sooner than Labour have won.  I think a more accurate assessment of the mood is “marginally the best of a very bad lot” or if you prefer “it IS all doom and gloom”.

Lazy Community

Tags

life, love, musings, rants, relationships, sex, thoughts, writing

I know my immediate neighbours very well. I’m on “nodding terms” with those a little further away. But I don’t spend much time with any of them. I spend far more time here with you: my blogging pals. Why is that so, I wonder?  A numer of possible answers present themselves:

It’s so easy to filter folk on social media.  You can select by age, gender, sexual orientation, political alliance, interests, &c with ease.  It’s nice preaching to the converted.

It’s anonymous.  You can say whatever you like here with impunity.  You could even BE whoever you like here, if the mood takes you.

Time isn’t real here.  You can pick it up, put it to one side, ignore it, or play it 24/7/52/(3*20)+10 to suit yourself.  (your life is still ticking away in the real world though!)

Neither a borrower nor a lender be.  In cyber world you owe and are owed nothing.

Embarrassment: this is a biggy!  There are no red faces here.

Laziness.  Is this the real root?  Is it all just about minimum effort for maximum result?

Time

Tags

life, musings, thought processes, thoughts

“Time and tide wait for no man”.

I forget how old I am. I don’t mean that I have to work out my age when asked: I know I am 53.  It’s more a question of not understanding my temporal fit and not taking due notice of how the world has moved on around me.  I was at a wedding on Saturday, where a few age-related issues confronted me.

An old school friend of mine was getting hitched again.  He lost his first wife, who also went to school with us, to breast cancer a few years back.  School pals dying is abrupt enough reminder of the march of time, one might think.  Amongst the guests, was my pal’s little sister.  I had not seen her since his first wedding.  She would have been about twelve and her brother and I about twenty.  I recall thinking how wonderful she looked that day and what a beautiful woman she was about to become.  She had long, shiny ebony hair, hanging around her shoulders in ringlets; rich, olive skin; and a dazzling smile.  She was quite stunning.

Thirty-three years is far too much ramp input!  I recognised her immediately.  I am a damn fool: what was I expecting?  She’d aged: well big surprise, genius!  And she looked good, for a forty-five year old.  Of course, her beauty had faded.  Who’s hasn’t after forty-five years?  But I allowed myself to feel sad about it: either the fading or that I missed out on seeing her in the interim, maybe both, I’m not sure.

We’d arranged to bivouac in the marquee on Saturday night, but the weather wasn’t good and the temperature was plummeting towards zero, so we begged a patch of floor space indoors.  I can remember when kipping on someone’s floor was very rock-and-roll.  I woke Sunday very early Sunday morning with more aches and pains than I care to list.  Note to self: find a B&B next time!

Stockings

Tags

beauty, glamour, life, love, musings, sex, thoughts

I like women.  No surprise there.  I like so many things about them: the way they sound, the way they move, the way they smell, but most of all the way they look.  As a sub-species of the way they look is the issue of dishabille and lingerie: that perfect blend of allure and coyness.  Going further down (no pun), there is the sub-sub-species of stockings.  Is there anything quite so attractive as a beautiful woman in stockings?  I know it’s a terrible cliche and it’s been done to death in the stroke mags and porn films, but I still think it holds true.

Such is my nature, I cannot just take this at face value and accept it: I have to ask why.  What is it about stockings that makes them so sexy?  I’m struggling to arrive at a satisfactory answer.  I am further discombobulated by consideration of tights (panty-hose) which (IMHO) have exactly the opposite effect.  A number of possibilities present themselves:

1.  I can still remember the days before tights or hold-ups, when the impractical nature of suspenders meant that emergency adjustments or impromptu re-attachments might afford me a fleeting view of things I was not supposed to see.  I think this is a long shot.  It only works for blokes my age and older, so cannot explain the continued popularity amongst younger blokes.

2.  When girls become women they progress from socks to stockings.  So the stockings become a symbol of womanhood.  This used to be true or, at least, much more so.  I think there is some merit in this argument but it is seriously undermined by the tights question.

3.  The bottom of the suspender belt, the two front suspenders and the stocking tops create a framing effect for the genital area.  I don’t like this.  It seems wooden, crass and obvious.  Also, it only works with suspenders or similar, whereas (again IMHO) stockings work fine without.

4.  The use (overuse?) of stockings in pornography has created an association with promiscuity and availability.  This may be true in general.  I found a love of stockings from images in my Mother’s catalogue before I knew porn existed, so it doesn’t fit for me.

5.  Stockings have become a tacit (or subliminal?) signal of interest in sexual liaison.  It sounds plausible but I am not able to judge.  Only women can answer this one.

Bleach Ads

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

Q. Mummy Mummy, can I lick the bowl out?
A. No, pull the chain like everybody else.

We are bombarded with advertisements for toilet cleaning products. Well, I’m all in favour of a clean loo. But there’s a theme running through that I find curious. They all make claims about killing germs. So what’s that all about then? Clean yes, but does your loo really need to be germ free? You’re not really going to lick the bowl out are you?

Cut Price Haberdashery.

Tags

humour, joke, life, musings, thoughts

A must for anyone seeking a cheap frill.

Wouldn’t life be easier……

Tags

economics, happiness, life, musings, peace, thoughts, war

….if we got along with one another? There seems to be a huge amount of strife and hatred in the world. How many conflicts ever get resolved or actually change anything? It seems to me that very little is ever changed: we just make folk unhappy. I know this viewpoint is naive. Greed and powerlust will always hold sway. I just wish we could have peace for a while.
We can find millions to spend on arms and the military, to kill and threaten folk. But we can’t ensure everyone gets fed, has a home, gets an education, gets medical attention. That can’t be right, can it?
I’m sure there’s enough to go round everyone. Why do we need to fight?

Shit-free Grave

Tags

life, musings, peace, thoughts, war

I am utterly sick of having the “our brave boys” argument thrown at me every time I propose peace. Apparently, I’m undermining morale and shitting on the graves of our fallen heros by suggesting that the U.K. should not be fighting wars.

I am never likely to join the military but, if I did, I’m damned sure I’d opt for safety before high morale and life before a shit-free grave.

Wine Circle Bash

Tags

fun, life, musings, Skegness Latest News, thoughts

Every year we organise a dinner for the Beer & Wine Making Circle members. We were down on numbers this year, quite a few folk were away on holidays and the like. So there were only ten of us but we had a fine time.
We went to the Carpenter’s Arms at Fiskerton. The food and drink were both excellent and the company even better.
What better way to spend an evening than with good friends, over delicious food and hearty beers?

Shame on Teddy

Tags

behaviour, charitable cause, friendly match, life, musings, professional footballer, sports, thoughts

Soccer Aid is supposed to be a friendly match. The issue is not whether England or the Rest of the World team wins but rather about the amount of money raised for UNICEF. So why did ex-professional footballer Teddy Sheringham feel the need to assault TV chef Gordon Ramsay? I use the word “assault” advisedly: no way could anyone regard that as a tackle!  So poor Gordon was carried off in an oxygen mask for donating his evening for a charitable cause.  Not nice Teddy!

Sunshine Award

I am chuffed to say I have been nominated.

Okay, so the rules for Sunshine Award say:

• Include the award’s logo in a post or on your blog.
• Answer 10 questions about yourself.
• Nominate 10-12 other fabulous bloggers.
• Link your nominees to this post and comment on their blogs, letting them know they have been nominated.
• Share the love and link the person who nominated you.

 

The logo:

 

 

The questions:

1. Favourite colour?

Not sure on this.  Colours “belong”.  I like red but I don’t like sunburn, blood or zits.  I like blue, particularly piercing blue eyes, but I don’t like the Tories much.  Black is classy, I love shiny long black hair, but not Black-shirts or Black & Tans.  Green is easy on the eye and I love the countryside but when my cheese is on the turn…

2. Favourite animal?

Smudge, my affectionate and devoted collie.  She really is a sweetie.

3. Favourite number?

Obviously, 69 or 969 J

If you mean song then Kid Charlamagne Steely Dan (with Larry Carlton).

4. Favourite non-alcoholic drink?

Orange juice or dandelion ‘n’ fizzpop.

5. Prefer Facebook or Twitter?

I’ve largely abandoned Twitter.  Seems to me, it’s mostly populated by folk with nothing to say who insist on saying it anyway.  I can take Facebook in small doses.

6. My passion?

Music, particularly guitar music.

7. Prefer getting or giving presents?

Both.

8. Favourite pattern?

Staffordshire knot.

9. Favourite day of the week?

Saturday.

10. Favourite flower?

Winter jasmine – beautiful splash of colour in the grey months.

 

The nominations:

Awanthi at http://uncertaincrossroads.wordpress.com/

Susannah at http://athingirl.com/

Arkenaten at http://arkenaten.wordpress.com/

Snarkysnatch at http://snarkysnatch.wordpress.com/

Kyle at http://kylemew.wordpress.com

Lynn at http://56menandothermistakes.wordpress.com/

Guiltless Miss at http://guiltlessmiss.com/

Evelyn at http://fillingahole.wordpress.com/

Marc at http://writersearningmoneyonline.com/

Bob at http://1oneday.wordpress.com/

 

The person who nominated me:

Thelma Cunningham at http://tvaraj.wordpress.com/

Many thanks Thelma.

Rob.

 

The World Tastes Like Water.

Tags

food, life, musings, rants, taste, thoughts, water

I like water and I drink lots of it. But when I buy food, I expect it to taste like food. Increasingly, the meat, poultry, eggs, fruit and vegetables I buy taste of nothing. Even when I pay the extra for organic produce, things don’t seem much better.

I don’t have sufficient space at home to produce much.  The little I do produce however, tastes a million times better than anything I can get in a supermarket.  Now, I’m a rank amateur: if I can grow and rear food that tastes good, why can’t the professionals?

I brought two conference pears to work today that I got from ASDA (Walmart) yesterday.  They taste of absolutely nothing.  Only the texture and appearance tell me what they’re supposed to be.  I might just as well be eating ping-pong balls!

I wonder at the nutritional value of food like this.  Should my “five a day” be “fifty a day” in order to compensate for water content?

Horror

Tags

writing

I’m awake. Everything is black, beyond dark, completely black. I try to open my eyes: nothing. I try my arms, my legs: again nothing responds. Even breathing is not within my control.