walking down the main Sydenham high street I saw one of the charidee shops with videos at a bargain 50p each, and an even bigger bargain of four for a quid. How could I resist?
So four more old fashioned VHS videos, which I probably won't watch for years, but stored away for that proverbial rainy day. Which, with the amount of videos I've bought over the last few years, would be enough for a long, wet spell on Noahs Ark.
for an outlay of only one pound I picked up the following:
'Falling Down'. Some sort of vigilante type film, according to the blurb. Released in 1982, & starring Michael Douglas. I've heard of him ,not the film.
'Hard Eight'. About a veteran gambler, who is on run from the old bill, but has lots of other enemies. Four stars are named on the box. Gwyneth Paltrow & Samuel L. Jackson I've heard of. Philip Baker Hall & John C. Reilly I haven't.
'Back to Bataan'. an old war film, I've not heard of. Or maybe I have, but can't recall. An old black & white film, released in 1945, starring John Wayne. Such is my lack of history I've not heard of Bataan, so I'm now looking forward to this film.
Lastly 'Flying Leathernecks'. Another wartime John Wayne number, about a flying squadron. This one is in colour, released in 1951. There is actually an aviation museum of the same name in America.
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Pepsi Max-imise your money!
I was indoors all day today, updating one of my other blogs. I popped out a ten to four, as I had a routine appointment at the quacks, after another blood & urine test. All to do with my diabetes. This was a sort of follow on, after I was diagnosed with diabetes 2 back in January. And these tests were actually related to cholesterol. I knew this was coming, & wasn't looking forward to it. I eats lots of meat, & fried food. Though I also have pasta & rice as well. But I don't do vegetables. Apart from peas & potatoes. Mushrooms sometimes too. But in the main vegetables are what my dinner eats, which is one of my stock catchphrases.
I was pleasantly surprised to say the least. My cholesterol levels were high, but not excessively so. I was told they were only slightly higher that they should be, and something that can be lowered if I lose some weight & sin't that much of a concern. He has decided not to write out a prescription for tablets to manage it. Result!
On the walk back down the road I popped into Somerfield to pick up one or two things & saw that 12 cans of Pepsi Max were still on special offer, reduced to £2.99, from £4.80. Ignoring the reduction if you'd have told me this time last year I'd be drinking Pepsi Max & found it ok to my palate I'd have said you were crazy! At it happens it's actually slightly better than Diet Coke. Which is weird, as I always preferred regular Coca Cola to Pepsi! Explain that one, because I can't.
Anyway, I was at the counter, & as I handed over a tenner for my purchases I was charged £9.29. more than I expected, but rather than query it on the spot i stepped away & studied the receipt, as I didn't want to hold up the queue.
Instead of £2.99 I was charged £5.09! my first instinct was to think I'd picked up a larger back than was on offer, so I counted the tins & there were only twelve. I walked towards the exit, 'muttering' thoughts in my head- 'Fucking bastards! Trying to rip me off!' In fact they were not trying to rip me off. If I walked out of the door they WERE ripping me off.
So I turned round & walked over to where I'd picked the cans up from. Sure enough the large A4 poster with the price clearly said £2.99. Rather than queue again I walked up to another member of staff, by some other tills, & told her I was overcharged, showing her my receipt, and telling her what I thought it should have been. She told me to just queue up again & they would sort it out at the tills. I told her. politely enough, that I wasn't going to queue up again as it wasn't my error. She called the manager over & he spoke to me. I told him what had happened and we went to the Pepsi display.
He looked at the price poster, and read the very small print at the bottom & said that special offer had expired yesterday. He told me I could return the Pepsi if I wanted my money back. Or keep it. I had another idea. I suggested he refund me the change from £5.09 on my receipt to the £2.99 clearly displaced price, as that's what he was advertising it for sale as. Hee, hee! He had no choice but to agree, and took the poster down at the same time!
One nil to the shopper!
I was pleasantly surprised to say the least. My cholesterol levels were high, but not excessively so. I was told they were only slightly higher that they should be, and something that can be lowered if I lose some weight & sin't that much of a concern. He has decided not to write out a prescription for tablets to manage it. Result!
On the walk back down the road I popped into Somerfield to pick up one or two things & saw that 12 cans of Pepsi Max were still on special offer, reduced to £2.99, from £4.80. Ignoring the reduction if you'd have told me this time last year I'd be drinking Pepsi Max & found it ok to my palate I'd have said you were crazy! At it happens it's actually slightly better than Diet Coke. Which is weird, as I always preferred regular Coca Cola to Pepsi! Explain that one, because I can't.
Anyway, I was at the counter, & as I handed over a tenner for my purchases I was charged £9.29. more than I expected, but rather than query it on the spot i stepped away & studied the receipt, as I didn't want to hold up the queue.
Instead of £2.99 I was charged £5.09! my first instinct was to think I'd picked up a larger back than was on offer, so I counted the tins & there were only twelve. I walked towards the exit, 'muttering' thoughts in my head- 'Fucking bastards! Trying to rip me off!' In fact they were not trying to rip me off. If I walked out of the door they WERE ripping me off.
So I turned round & walked over to where I'd picked the cans up from. Sure enough the large A4 poster with the price clearly said £2.99. Rather than queue again I walked up to another member of staff, by some other tills, & told her I was overcharged, showing her my receipt, and telling her what I thought it should have been. She told me to just queue up again & they would sort it out at the tills. I told her. politely enough, that I wasn't going to queue up again as it wasn't my error. She called the manager over & he spoke to me. I told him what had happened and we went to the Pepsi display.
He looked at the price poster, and read the very small print at the bottom & said that special offer had expired yesterday. He told me I could return the Pepsi if I wanted my money back. Or keep it. I had another idea. I suggested he refund me the change from £5.09 on my receipt to the £2.99 clearly displaced price, as that's what he was advertising it for sale as. Hee, hee! He had no choice but to agree, and took the poster down at the same time!
One nil to the shopper!
Well,well, well!
At last! I'm connected properly at home again!
I've been busy for most of the day doing two large posts on my football grounds photo blog, so haven't had much chance to catch up here, but I do plan to...honest! ;-)
This evening I popped out to a pre-season match at a local sportsground, an easy 15 minute stroll away from home, between Croydon, of the Combined Counties League & Redhill, from the Sussex County League.
It was entertaining enough, & I was in pleasant company, chatting to a couple of Croydon fans I know.
The whole evening got me thinking, & I've now got an idea in my head for yet another wordy blog, from my 'real' blogging stable, that is blogs in my own name. I'm not entirely sure if I can keep it up, as I struggle to maintain all of the blogs I'm juggling with at the moment!
I won't go into detail here, except to say it will be a sort of diary to my season. If it works then I will put a public link to it on my main grounds blog, but at the moment it will stay firmly hidden until I see if I can devote time to it or not.
I'm trying not to raise my hopes about it, as although I'm actually quite positive & even a little excited by it, I tend to let myself down by starting projects I can't finish. And that's without life in general knocking me back when I get silly ambitious ideas in my head, way aove my station.
Time will tell...
I've been busy for most of the day doing two large posts on my football grounds photo blog, so haven't had much chance to catch up here, but I do plan to...honest! ;-)
This evening I popped out to a pre-season match at a local sportsground, an easy 15 minute stroll away from home, between Croydon, of the Combined Counties League & Redhill, from the Sussex County League.
It was entertaining enough, & I was in pleasant company, chatting to a couple of Croydon fans I know.
The whole evening got me thinking, & I've now got an idea in my head for yet another wordy blog, from my 'real' blogging stable, that is blogs in my own name. I'm not entirely sure if I can keep it up, as I struggle to maintain all of the blogs I'm juggling with at the moment!
I won't go into detail here, except to say it will be a sort of diary to my season. If it works then I will put a public link to it on my main grounds blog, but at the moment it will stay firmly hidden until I see if I can devote time to it or not.
I'm trying not to raise my hopes about it, as although I'm actually quite positive & even a little excited by it, I tend to let myself down by starting projects I can't finish. And that's without life in general knocking me back when I get silly ambitious ideas in my head, way aove my station.
Time will tell...
Monday, 13 July 2009
At my wits end...
Not quite, but not far off it!
My internet is playing up again, hence my lack of posts. Both here, and elsewhere. You may recall it was fucked up a month or so ago. But service was restored. Last Tuesday it took me twenty minutes to get a connection. Since Wednesday morning-nothing!
I phoned up to complain yet again. It's funny how they call you back if you say you will cancel your direct debit if they don't, once they say they can't!
Anyway, after some more smarmy Indian call centre bullshit they asked me to check the laptop in another area, to see if it was the modem or not. Well I had no choice did I? They said it probably wasn't as I had been getting connections previously. So I said call me back in a couple of hours, and I would go out and check. This was about two o'clock in the afternoon, I hadn't been out yet, having got up late as it was my day off work, at about eleven. So I popped into the bathroom to have a wash before I left. I pick up my phone as I was about to leave & noticed two missed calls, caller withheld.
I had a feeling the dongle thingy wouldn't work, I know it's fucked as they made me do the same thing a few weeks before. Surprise, surprise no connection at either London Bridge, or Trafalgar Square. When I got home they rang back...surprisingly-surprising because it was when they said they would-& apologised, saying they tried to call me back, but I hadn't answered earlier. The local towers were bering upgraded. Hmm...I said that's what they said last month. Yes, that was to check if they needed upgrading, now they were doing the work. Bullshit! He suggested sending a new modem, but said it would be the upgrade work, which was being completed tomorrow (Thursday). He would call me back on Friday evening to see that everything was ok, which he assured me it should be. Fair enough, though I didn't think it would.
Come Friday, & no connection! I told him this when he called. He said he would order me a new modem & it would be at no extra cost...I butted in & said what do you mean no extra cost? I should hope not! As I hadn't broken anything! You're not supplying the service!
Anyway I'm due to have one arrive, sent to me at work, tomorrow, Tuesday. I'm bringing my laptop in to work to test it there & then, & he will call me. If they try to fob me off I will ask them...how come, late on Friday evening, I actually got a connection? But then nothing for the rest of the weekend? It's a shocking, shoddy service from Three. Which is a shame,. as until these recent problems the service has been fine. But when something goes wrong...
So it's only a computer! Am I addicted to the internet? A sort of surrogate alcohol? Maybe? I don't know.
But what I do know is that I don't want to be sat in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous every night to keep sane. blogging calms me, & it's something I enjoy. I love taking photos, & my grounds photos blog has been well received all over the country, and,beleive it or not, across Europe! It's something that gives me a sense of worth & achievement far beyond what I ever thought I was capable of.
My laptop is my emotional crutch. It is the use of the internet that keeps me from drinking & occupied. I am at a loss without it. It is no coincidence that I have been thinking more & more of 'just having a few drinks'. Not a huge bender, I don't suppose it would take much to get me drunk at the moment anyway, as I'm over seven years sober. But just enough to have 'one taste' again, & to 'escape' from the 'madness' that is going through my head, because I am so stressed out over a lump of metal that's not working, which is my laptop.
And that's not a good frame of mind to be in, trust me! Which is why I went to an AA meeting last night, the first one I've been to in over a month. Maybe I don't go to enough of them, who knows? But I know where they are, I need them now & again, & this is one of them times.
I don't know what I'll do if my computer doesn't work. I feel like I'm heading back to square one, & oblivion.
Last Thursday the Supporters' Team had their annual cricket match with the Bromley fans. We won last year, but it's a bit like England & The Ashes. You only win once in a generation. And, sure enough, we lost again, so they lead 3-1 in the one off anuual 20/20 series against us. I was working til seven. But I dashed there & caught the end. I was after the usual team snap, & a chat to our lot, so I could knock up a small write up for the team blog. But a couple of mates started taking the piss, and refused when I wanted a team photo, so I never got one. I went off home, without staying afterwards. I was really pissed off. Stupid over such a little thing, but that's how fucked up I am at the moment, and being without internet doesn't help. Waiting that night at Mottingham station I had thoughts through my head that I haven't had for a long time, & the track did look inviting.
I don't want to top myself, & hope I don't, but I do know that is how I will finish my life. I am very fragile emotionally at the moment, & just hope I can get my internet back, so I get in a stronger frame of mind mentally.
My lunch break is over now, but I've said what I want to say really, and just by posting here a bit of a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Which is the whole point of blogging. I do enjoy it..but more importantly it keeps me sane. And if it does that job, others are welcome to joke that I'm addicted to the internet.
My internet is playing up again, hence my lack of posts. Both here, and elsewhere. You may recall it was fucked up a month or so ago. But service was restored. Last Tuesday it took me twenty minutes to get a connection. Since Wednesday morning-nothing!
I phoned up to complain yet again. It's funny how they call you back if you say you will cancel your direct debit if they don't, once they say they can't!
Anyway, after some more smarmy Indian call centre bullshit they asked me to check the laptop in another area, to see if it was the modem or not. Well I had no choice did I? They said it probably wasn't as I had been getting connections previously. So I said call me back in a couple of hours, and I would go out and check. This was about two o'clock in the afternoon, I hadn't been out yet, having got up late as it was my day off work, at about eleven. So I popped into the bathroom to have a wash before I left. I pick up my phone as I was about to leave & noticed two missed calls, caller withheld.
I had a feeling the dongle thingy wouldn't work, I know it's fucked as they made me do the same thing a few weeks before. Surprise, surprise no connection at either London Bridge, or Trafalgar Square. When I got home they rang back...surprisingly-surprising because it was when they said they would-& apologised, saying they tried to call me back, but I hadn't answered earlier. The local towers were bering upgraded. Hmm...I said that's what they said last month. Yes, that was to check if they needed upgrading, now they were doing the work. Bullshit! He suggested sending a new modem, but said it would be the upgrade work, which was being completed tomorrow (Thursday). He would call me back on Friday evening to see that everything was ok, which he assured me it should be. Fair enough, though I didn't think it would.
Come Friday, & no connection! I told him this when he called. He said he would order me a new modem & it would be at no extra cost...I butted in & said what do you mean no extra cost? I should hope not! As I hadn't broken anything! You're not supplying the service!
Anyway I'm due to have one arrive, sent to me at work, tomorrow, Tuesday. I'm bringing my laptop in to work to test it there & then, & he will call me. If they try to fob me off I will ask them...how come, late on Friday evening, I actually got a connection? But then nothing for the rest of the weekend? It's a shocking, shoddy service from Three. Which is a shame,. as until these recent problems the service has been fine. But when something goes wrong...
So it's only a computer! Am I addicted to the internet? A sort of surrogate alcohol? Maybe? I don't know.
But what I do know is that I don't want to be sat in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous every night to keep sane. blogging calms me, & it's something I enjoy. I love taking photos, & my grounds photos blog has been well received all over the country, and,beleive it or not, across Europe! It's something that gives me a sense of worth & achievement far beyond what I ever thought I was capable of.
My laptop is my emotional crutch. It is the use of the internet that keeps me from drinking & occupied. I am at a loss without it. It is no coincidence that I have been thinking more & more of 'just having a few drinks'. Not a huge bender, I don't suppose it would take much to get me drunk at the moment anyway, as I'm over seven years sober. But just enough to have 'one taste' again, & to 'escape' from the 'madness' that is going through my head, because I am so stressed out over a lump of metal that's not working, which is my laptop.
And that's not a good frame of mind to be in, trust me! Which is why I went to an AA meeting last night, the first one I've been to in over a month. Maybe I don't go to enough of them, who knows? But I know where they are, I need them now & again, & this is one of them times.
I don't know what I'll do if my computer doesn't work. I feel like I'm heading back to square one, & oblivion.
Last Thursday the Supporters' Team had their annual cricket match with the Bromley fans. We won last year, but it's a bit like England & The Ashes. You only win once in a generation. And, sure enough, we lost again, so they lead 3-1 in the one off anuual 20/20 series against us. I was working til seven. But I dashed there & caught the end. I was after the usual team snap, & a chat to our lot, so I could knock up a small write up for the team blog. But a couple of mates started taking the piss, and refused when I wanted a team photo, so I never got one. I went off home, without staying afterwards. I was really pissed off. Stupid over such a little thing, but that's how fucked up I am at the moment, and being without internet doesn't help. Waiting that night at Mottingham station I had thoughts through my head that I haven't had for a long time, & the track did look inviting.
I don't want to top myself, & hope I don't, but I do know that is how I will finish my life. I am very fragile emotionally at the moment, & just hope I can get my internet back, so I get in a stronger frame of mind mentally.
My lunch break is over now, but I've said what I want to say really, and just by posting here a bit of a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Which is the whole point of blogging. I do enjoy it..but more importantly it keeps me sane. And if it does that job, others are welcome to joke that I'm addicted to the internet.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Shouldn't charity help others?
I had the chance to sponsor someone at work today. I turned them down. well not so much turned them down, I just ignored them.
I was at a different workplace to my usual one, as they were short staffed. But I know everyone who works there. Not as friends, but as colleagues. And the difference? To use a drinking analogy, even tough I'm a sober, recovering alcoholic-a friend is someone who would happily buy a drink in the pub after finishing work. A colleague is someone you work with, & once you finish at the end of the day you don't want to see until you get back to work the next day. Simple!
Anyway, one person came into work for the afternoon & she dumped down a sponsor sheet onto the main desk & stated that everyone was going to sign it before she went home! Hmm... I've no problem with giving money to 'charidee' if I'm asked personally & nicely. You know: " I'm doing this walk to raise money for blahdeblah, would you be interested in sponsoring me.." But some people might just have different standards of communication skills to me, so I could let that go, if it's a charity I support, or just like the sound of.
None of that was explained to me though. There were three of us on, other than her. Our line manager put herself down for a couple of quid, myself & the other bloke ignored it. She wandered past at one stage and said that we hadn't signed it yet! She picked it up not long after, then brought it back later, saying aloud again that we hadn't signed it! Fucking sharp or what! Can't you take a hint love? I'm not bloody well interested!
And why not? A number of reasons actually. From where I'm sitting a sponsored event should be for a deserving cause, usually helping people in need, or supporting a community group. This was actually by her local church, and the proceeds were for improvements to the church steps! that's like you or me having some tiles fall off of our roof then doing a sponsored event asking YOU to pay for something that only BENEFITS me! You really are taking the piss! If you were asking for some money to help, say, a soup run to benefit the local homeless, then maybe I could support that. I say maybe because I don't tend to support religious based charidees just so they can show how caring they are on the one hand, while totally denying equal rights & acceptance of gay people on the other. So no, if it is for a cause like the homeless, then I would support someone fundraising for an non-denominational organisation like Shelter.
Mentioning religious fundraising reminded me of the other week when I was out & about in the Croydon area on a Sunday. On my way from the centre of Croydon to the old airport visitor centre, four teenagers got on my bus. They had labels pinned onto their front & back, similar to numbers in an athletics race meeting, which clearly stated they were doing a sponsored walk for a local mosque. Well walking, apart from the mile or so they were on my bus. they jumped off right in front of a checkpoint & the chap there happily signed their sheets, with no mention of their cheating by taking public transport, just a cheery word, and a wave as they walked down the road, probably only as far as the next bus stop!
The 'doorstep' appeal also failed my 'sponsorship checklist' by the actual event. Now call me old fashioned, but a sponsored event should be something that challenges you, exerts you, makes you earn the money you raise for a good cause. This one was a sponsored walk from the church itself, in Camberwell, to the River Thames! Which is a distance of, wait for it, three miles! And over flat ground! And you have the cheek to call that a sponsored walk? A stroll up the road more like!
She eventually took the form away from the main desk after around two hours or os after she'd originally thrust it in our faces. At least she had the humilty not to ask us why we weren't sponsoring her, I think a bit of an argument with me might have ensued!
I was at a different workplace to my usual one, as they were short staffed. But I know everyone who works there. Not as friends, but as colleagues. And the difference? To use a drinking analogy, even tough I'm a sober, recovering alcoholic-a friend is someone who would happily buy a drink in the pub after finishing work. A colleague is someone you work with, & once you finish at the end of the day you don't want to see until you get back to work the next day. Simple!
Anyway, one person came into work for the afternoon & she dumped down a sponsor sheet onto the main desk & stated that everyone was going to sign it before she went home! Hmm... I've no problem with giving money to 'charidee' if I'm asked personally & nicely. You know: " I'm doing this walk to raise money for blahdeblah, would you be interested in sponsoring me.." But some people might just have different standards of communication skills to me, so I could let that go, if it's a charity I support, or just like the sound of.
None of that was explained to me though. There were three of us on, other than her. Our line manager put herself down for a couple of quid, myself & the other bloke ignored it. She wandered past at one stage and said that we hadn't signed it yet! She picked it up not long after, then brought it back later, saying aloud again that we hadn't signed it! Fucking sharp or what! Can't you take a hint love? I'm not bloody well interested!
And why not? A number of reasons actually. From where I'm sitting a sponsored event should be for a deserving cause, usually helping people in need, or supporting a community group. This was actually by her local church, and the proceeds were for improvements to the church steps! that's like you or me having some tiles fall off of our roof then doing a sponsored event asking YOU to pay for something that only BENEFITS me! You really are taking the piss! If you were asking for some money to help, say, a soup run to benefit the local homeless, then maybe I could support that. I say maybe because I don't tend to support religious based charidees just so they can show how caring they are on the one hand, while totally denying equal rights & acceptance of gay people on the other. So no, if it is for a cause like the homeless, then I would support someone fundraising for an non-denominational organisation like Shelter.
Mentioning religious fundraising reminded me of the other week when I was out & about in the Croydon area on a Sunday. On my way from the centre of Croydon to the old airport visitor centre, four teenagers got on my bus. They had labels pinned onto their front & back, similar to numbers in an athletics race meeting, which clearly stated they were doing a sponsored walk for a local mosque. Well walking, apart from the mile or so they were on my bus. they jumped off right in front of a checkpoint & the chap there happily signed their sheets, with no mention of their cheating by taking public transport, just a cheery word, and a wave as they walked down the road, probably only as far as the next bus stop!
The 'doorstep' appeal also failed my 'sponsorship checklist' by the actual event. Now call me old fashioned, but a sponsored event should be something that challenges you, exerts you, makes you earn the money you raise for a good cause. This one was a sponsored walk from the church itself, in Camberwell, to the River Thames! Which is a distance of, wait for it, three miles! And over flat ground! And you have the cheek to call that a sponsored walk? A stroll up the road more like!
She eventually took the form away from the main desk after around two hours or os after she'd originally thrust it in our faces. At least she had the humilty not to ask us why we weren't sponsoring her, I think a bit of an argument with me might have ensued!
Monday, 29 June 2009
I don't want to jinx things
But I've managed to log on ok this evening. And yesterday too. Two days on the spin. Which on current form is a fucking miracle! My internet connection has been playing up for a few weeks now, part of the reason for my lack of posts on here.
I use mobile broadband with Three, & i've been with them for about eighteen months now, since I bought my laptop through the gift vouchers I got a work in 'recognition' for my twenty years service to the local authority I work for.
I'd not really had any problems. Sure it cut out sometimes, or didn't always log on immediately, but for just over fifteen quid a month I wasn't too fussed with these blips.
But then I couldn't get any connections at all. So I rang the customer number. The first call I made from work, as they were free to Three phone customers, but my mobile is with 02. Fat lot of good that was, as I needed my laptop in front of me apparently. So I ended up, over a number of calls spending just under a score on my mobile. All to speak to some smarmy git in an Indian call centre! It was clear, through their transparent politeness they they didn't give a shit.
I'm loathe to change over to another company, I'm old fashioned like that, if i buy something & like it i stick with it. But I came very close to stopping my monthly payment from my bank & signing up with someone else.
The stupidness, some might say madness, going through my mind is that it's all my fault. That my life is so shit it serves me right for doing something that I enjoy, & gives me confidence and self worth. Which blogging does, none more so than my photoblog of football grounds, which is actually looked at by people from all over Europe!
I'm just glad it's up and running at the moment, there's plenty I want to say on this blog, but it's been a long, hot day. So I'll chat again tomorrow, hopefully, if I can get online ok.
At the weekend my mate Cookie got hold of a pair of the free tickets for the all ticketed 30,000 limit Armed Services Day at the old Chatham Dockyard. I'll tell you about that, probably. In the meantime I'm going to publish a load of photos of him below. For no other reason than he asked me to, and he has friends in America, & this is the only way they can see them. He did me the favour by sorting the tickets, so this is my way of paying him back.
I use mobile broadband with Three, & i've been with them for about eighteen months now, since I bought my laptop through the gift vouchers I got a work in 'recognition' for my twenty years service to the local authority I work for.
I'd not really had any problems. Sure it cut out sometimes, or didn't always log on immediately, but for just over fifteen quid a month I wasn't too fussed with these blips.
But then I couldn't get any connections at all. So I rang the customer number. The first call I made from work, as they were free to Three phone customers, but my mobile is with 02. Fat lot of good that was, as I needed my laptop in front of me apparently. So I ended up, over a number of calls spending just under a score on my mobile. All to speak to some smarmy git in an Indian call centre! It was clear, through their transparent politeness they they didn't give a shit.
I'm loathe to change over to another company, I'm old fashioned like that, if i buy something & like it i stick with it. But I came very close to stopping my monthly payment from my bank & signing up with someone else.
The stupidness, some might say madness, going through my mind is that it's all my fault. That my life is so shit it serves me right for doing something that I enjoy, & gives me confidence and self worth. Which blogging does, none more so than my photoblog of football grounds, which is actually looked at by people from all over Europe!
I'm just glad it's up and running at the moment, there's plenty I want to say on this blog, but it's been a long, hot day. So I'll chat again tomorrow, hopefully, if I can get online ok.
At the weekend my mate Cookie got hold of a pair of the free tickets for the all ticketed 30,000 limit Armed Services Day at the old Chatham Dockyard. I'll tell you about that, probably. In the meantime I'm going to publish a load of photos of him below. For no other reason than he asked me to, and he has friends in America, & this is the only way they can see them. He did me the favour by sorting the tickets, so this is my way of paying him back.
Cookie snaps!
So here we go....
On the way to the Armed Forces Day, huge Union Jack on show as we go past.
Just inside the entrance to rhe old Naval Dockyard.
Not the best of shots, into the sun, here he is as happy a little boy with new toys on Christmas Day!
Dads Army! With the Home Guard from WWII.
In front of one of the warships, this is HMS Cavalier. This is one of my favourite snaps.
Here he sits in the Captains chair.
And gets his most hated town of Colchester in his sights.
One Medway Queen standing in front of another... ;-)
He begged me to take this one!
Talking about the history of this WWII American jeep, with it's owner.
And standing next to it.
He doesn't like this one. "It shows my gaps!"
Flying the flag for his friends over the pond!
With members of an Essex Battalion from WWI.
Keep the bloody pin in!
Guess what he wanted to be when he grew up? ;-)
Lovely double chin! ;-)
One for the album before he gets nicked!
Told you! Sitting in the cells...
On the way to the Armed Forces Day, huge Union Jack on show as we go past.
Just inside the entrance to rhe old Naval Dockyard.
Not the best of shots, into the sun, here he is as happy a little boy with new toys on Christmas Day!
Dads Army! With the Home Guard from WWII.
In front of one of the warships, this is HMS Cavalier. This is one of my favourite snaps.
Here he sits in the Captains chair.
And gets his most hated town of Colchester in his sights.
One Medway Queen standing in front of another... ;-)
He begged me to take this one!
Talking about the history of this WWII American jeep, with it's owner.
And standing next to it.
He doesn't like this one. "It shows my gaps!"
Flying the flag for his friends over the pond!
With members of an Essex Battalion from WWI.
Keep the bloody pin in!
Guess what he wanted to be when he grew up? ;-)
Lovely double chin! ;-)
One for the album before he gets nicked!
Told you! Sitting in the cells...
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
An ambition satisfied!
There are some things in life that I've always wanted to do....at the weekend I achieved one of them!
I was on holiday, so I could allow myself a few 'treats'...my diabetes 2 isn't going to kill me, so I can be 'naughty' now & again. Sunday night was such a time.
The day before we'd been unable to locate a fish and chip shop that sold the world famous 'Deep Fried Mars Bar', that we're led to believe is a staple diet in Scotland, the heart attack capital of Europe!
It sounds disgusting, but it was something we wanted to try, LoLo certainly did! But no luck in the few chip shops we looked at. Belgian Anorak couldn't believe there was such a snack, even after I'd told him to Google it!
On the Sunday evening I was on my own, as the others were flying back home to London, or across the Channel. I'd been walking around for a few hours, & hadn't had much to eat, so was a bit peckish. I had planned to go to the speedway, which was at four, & headed to Queen Street station, having seen a poster at another station.
Which was lucky, as I'd forgotten the address of the stadium. my luck ran out.
I was still in 'London mode' & had forgotten what a third world country it is north of the border. There was no Sunday train service on the line, where the station by the speedway was! Primitive or what?
Instead I walked about, nowhere in particular, then headed for the famous Glasgow Necropolis, by the Cathedral. That was shut by the time I got there, so I'll save looking at that for another visit. The Necropolis is wonderful! Set on a hillside, overlooking the city, my snap really doesn't do it justice.
But the real highlight for me came after I'd been round it. Before I got there I stopped at a chippie & had sausage & chips. Well that's what I ordered, & yes, that's what I got. But they automatically dished up two sausages, not one. I wasn't complaining, but wasn't expecting two.
As I was leaving I clocked a sign in the window saying 'Fried Mars Bars'!
Now being English, I was a bit paranoid about them thinking I was taking the piss by ordering it, so bottled it, believe it or not! besides I'd have looked stupid going back into the shock for one, was my lame excuse.
But after leaving the cemetery, it was about nine o'clock by now, the rain was just starting, so I thought to myself: 'Fuck it, if I don't have one now I never will!'. So I ordered one! It takes a while, as the fat has to be very hot, to allow the batter to seal the Mars Bar in.
It was handed to me wrapped, so I didn't open it, with the rain now coming down. I dashed over the road to the train station, & unwrapped..
The photos are a bit blurred, as I had the Mars Bar in one hand, and the camera & umbrella was in the other, with bag over my shoulder. But this is what it looked like:
Then I tasted tasted it. I felt like a naughty little kid!
You know what? It was delicious! I wish I'd bought two!
I was on holiday, so I could allow myself a few 'treats'...my diabetes 2 isn't going to kill me, so I can be 'naughty' now & again. Sunday night was such a time.
The day before we'd been unable to locate a fish and chip shop that sold the world famous 'Deep Fried Mars Bar', that we're led to believe is a staple diet in Scotland, the heart attack capital of Europe!
It sounds disgusting, but it was something we wanted to try, LoLo certainly did! But no luck in the few chip shops we looked at. Belgian Anorak couldn't believe there was such a snack, even after I'd told him to Google it!
On the Sunday evening I was on my own, as the others were flying back home to London, or across the Channel. I'd been walking around for a few hours, & hadn't had much to eat, so was a bit peckish. I had planned to go to the speedway, which was at four, & headed to Queen Street station, having seen a poster at another station.
Which was lucky, as I'd forgotten the address of the stadium. my luck ran out.
I was still in 'London mode' & had forgotten what a third world country it is north of the border. There was no Sunday train service on the line, where the station by the speedway was! Primitive or what?
Instead I walked about, nowhere in particular, then headed for the famous Glasgow Necropolis, by the Cathedral. That was shut by the time I got there, so I'll save looking at that for another visit. The Necropolis is wonderful! Set on a hillside, overlooking the city, my snap really doesn't do it justice.
But the real highlight for me came after I'd been round it. Before I got there I stopped at a chippie & had sausage & chips. Well that's what I ordered, & yes, that's what I got. But they automatically dished up two sausages, not one. I wasn't complaining, but wasn't expecting two.
As I was leaving I clocked a sign in the window saying 'Fried Mars Bars'!
Now being English, I was a bit paranoid about them thinking I was taking the piss by ordering it, so bottled it, believe it or not! besides I'd have looked stupid going back into the shock for one, was my lame excuse.
But after leaving the cemetery, it was about nine o'clock by now, the rain was just starting, so I thought to myself: 'Fuck it, if I don't have one now I never will!'. So I ordered one! It takes a while, as the fat has to be very hot, to allow the batter to seal the Mars Bar in.
It was handed to me wrapped, so I didn't open it, with the rain now coming down. I dashed over the road to the train station, & unwrapped..
The photos are a bit blurred, as I had the Mars Bar in one hand, and the camera & umbrella was in the other, with bag over my shoulder. But this is what it looked like:
Then I tasted tasted it. I felt like a naughty little kid!
You know what? It was delicious! I wish I'd bought two!
Doh! Wrong airport!
Last Thursday I flew up to Glasgow. Right destination, wrong airport!
Luckily it was the one I arrived at, not left from! I was going from Luton, with Easyjet. I'd only been up to Glasgow once before, for a weekend with my brother & one of my mates, for a Celtic versus Leeds pre-season match. We flew up then, & went to GlasgowPrestwick Airport, which is actually about 45 minutes train rides away from Glasgow Central station. I can't remember who we went up there with last time, but assumed it would be the same airport, which is a mere nine minutes from Ayr, in the other direction by train. And where I'd planned to spend the beginning of Thursday morning, to look at the football ground.
Imagine my surprise on arriving to get off the plane, and into the arrivals bit, to think...'this doesn't look right', initially assuming thye'd rebuilt the terminal. But I couldn't see any signs for the railway station. Turns out we were at the other airport, which is closer to the centre, only twenty minutes or so by express bus. It made no odds to me, I just felt a bit of an idiot for not realising!
Luckily it was the one I arrived at, not left from! I was going from Luton, with Easyjet. I'd only been up to Glasgow once before, for a weekend with my brother & one of my mates, for a Celtic versus Leeds pre-season match. We flew up then, & went to GlasgowPrestwick Airport, which is actually about 45 minutes train rides away from Glasgow Central station. I can't remember who we went up there with last time, but assumed it would be the same airport, which is a mere nine minutes from Ayr, in the other direction by train. And where I'd planned to spend the beginning of Thursday morning, to look at the football ground.
Imagine my surprise on arriving to get off the plane, and into the arrivals bit, to think...'this doesn't look right', initially assuming thye'd rebuilt the terminal. But I couldn't see any signs for the railway station. Turns out we were at the other airport, which is closer to the centre, only twenty minutes or so by express bus. It made no odds to me, I just felt a bit of an idiot for not realising!
The trouble I've had....
with my bastard internet connection!
I was THAT close to cancelling my direct debit with the bank & saying fuck off Three!
I got back from my trip to Glasgow on Monday night, & tried to log on. Still nothing! Yesterday evening I got in from work & again no luck. I gave it another go at around ten o'clock &...BINGO!
This morning it was fucked again, but after another attempt, about an hour later it was fine. so maybe, just maybe, normal service is being resumed.
It doesn't stop me being pissed off tohugh. I realise I pay not very much for the service, just over fifteen quid a month, but I'm still a bloody customer! And I resent being taken for an idiot, even if I know sod all about computers!
I spent over fifteen pounds on three mobile phone calls, when complaining. And had no connection for two weeks. plus the stress worrying about it. Now I 'stress' is the new 'bad back', but it does do your head in!
What pissed me off most was the bullshit from the callcentre. answered by someone in an Indian call centre, the English might be ok, but the accent is bloody difficult to understand. And then when I'm moaning they have the cheek to say 'sorry, it's a faint line'..I'm not surprised if you're halfway round the fucking world! More like a standard cop put excuse when you're getting moaned at by someone like me! The pretence of taking my number, promising to call me back, not once but twice, when clearly they had no intention of doing so! I've been far too polite this time. But if it happens again i'll show them what abusive can be!
I can't really complain too much, as prior to this, I've generally been happy with the service. It can be a bit erratic, but at the price I pay what can I expect? But to be practically two weeks without a connection is simply not good enough.
Hopefully I can catch up on my blogging, but to tell the truth there's only so much I can do, & I've had a number of football messageboards to catch up on, as well as putting some snaps from Glasgow on my Facebook, so it gets tiring after a while.
Time for a small break from the keyboard I thinnk. Stick a pizza in the oven for dinne,r with extra cheese chucked on top, with a few splashes of Worcester Sauce. Then an episode of The Simpsons on Channel Four.
I was THAT close to cancelling my direct debit with the bank & saying fuck off Three!
I got back from my trip to Glasgow on Monday night, & tried to log on. Still nothing! Yesterday evening I got in from work & again no luck. I gave it another go at around ten o'clock &...BINGO!
This morning it was fucked again, but after another attempt, about an hour later it was fine. so maybe, just maybe, normal service is being resumed.
It doesn't stop me being pissed off tohugh. I realise I pay not very much for the service, just over fifteen quid a month, but I'm still a bloody customer! And I resent being taken for an idiot, even if I know sod all about computers!
I spent over fifteen pounds on three mobile phone calls, when complaining. And had no connection for two weeks. plus the stress worrying about it. Now I 'stress' is the new 'bad back', but it does do your head in!
What pissed me off most was the bullshit from the callcentre. answered by someone in an Indian call centre, the English might be ok, but the accent is bloody difficult to understand. And then when I'm moaning they have the cheek to say 'sorry, it's a faint line'..I'm not surprised if you're halfway round the fucking world! More like a standard cop put excuse when you're getting moaned at by someone like me! The pretence of taking my number, promising to call me back, not once but twice, when clearly they had no intention of doing so! I've been far too polite this time. But if it happens again i'll show them what abusive can be!
I can't really complain too much, as prior to this, I've generally been happy with the service. It can be a bit erratic, but at the price I pay what can I expect? But to be practically two weeks without a connection is simply not good enough.
Hopefully I can catch up on my blogging, but to tell the truth there's only so much I can do, & I've had a number of football messageboards to catch up on, as well as putting some snaps from Glasgow on my Facebook, so it gets tiring after a while.
Time for a small break from the keyboard I thinnk. Stick a pizza in the oven for dinne,r with extra cheese chucked on top, with a few splashes of Worcester Sauce. Then an episode of The Simpsons on Channel Four.
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Bloody Marvellous!
I got in this evening & tried to log onto the internet. Still not working. So I played a bit of solitaire, with the telly on in the background. Almost as an afterthought, just before I switched off the laptop, I tried again. more in faint hope, than expectation....
And, yes you've already guess it, there was a connection! I'm not sure that it won't play up again, but hopefully whatever was wrong is sorted!
Now I'm on here I'm not in the mood for a long post! Despite having so much to say 'in my head' when I couldn't get onto my blog. Always the way eh? Plus I'm a bit tired now, having had a good few days of football messageboards to catch up with.
I had a nice day today. The rain that was due had turned up overnight, & it was dry. So I set out to visit a couple of places that I'd seen from an email service I've signed up to with Ian.
London, & the borders just outside, are full of untold amazing little places to see, which are way, way off the 'ordinary' tourist radar. It's those quirky little spots that I love. Two of them I visited today.
The first was an airport visitor centre, at a place where there's no longer an airport! On the Purley Way there's the only remains of Croydon Airport. Amazingly home to the first ever passenger service in the world. Though surely that should be joint-first, because if they were only the first they'd have had nowhere to land? It's popularity declined after the War, with the emergence of both Heathrow & Gatwick as the main London airports, as well as the urbanisation of the Croydon area, finally closing in September 1959. The old grass runways are long since built on, only the terminus buildings remain.
It's only open on the first Sunday of the month, but don't let that put you off. It's a working building, with a number of local businesses using it for offices, but at the back, up the stairs, the old control tower is now used as a couple of rooms for a small museum. We were taken round by an old boy who actually flew from here in the early thirties! As had another volunteer, who I chatted to, & he was ninety! Both were well spoken, & had no doubt had a privileged comfortable middle class up bringing, for early passenger aviation certainly wasn't within the price range of the working classes! I'm very much a working class (inverted) snob, but for once I listened & learned. They were fascinating. I love finding a little gem like this, free as well, & it was a cracking start to my day.
I'd spent almost an hour & a half here, I didn't think it would be that long, most of the afternoon was still ahead of me. It was still only just after one.
I got the bus back to Croydon, then jumped onto the tram, out towards Shirley. Another long lost local industry, but once again preserved. Again open only on the first Sunday of the month, & only from May to October. I was going to climb up the Shirley Windmill!
I got there a few minutes after two, & I only had ten minutes or so to wait until the next guided tour, at quarter past. You had to clamber up narrow staircases, & steep too, the steps like ladders, but without the 'gaps'. The chap giving the tour took us to the top, and talked us through each small floor, as we descended. I'll be honest, a lot of it went a little over my head, but only because I'm not that technically minded. I'm more 'local history' than 'industrial history'. But that's not to say it was boring. Another good hour spent here. I bought a guide book, and it also had a small walk around Shirley in it. As I didn't have time to head elswhere, as it was now almost four o'clock, I followed the route, & completed the not very strenuous circuit.
Something that interested me was one of the local pubs.
Called 'The Surprise', it had a local connection for me, as it was named after the rare Camberwell Beauty butterfly, which was shown on the pub sign. This building was formerly two cottages, converted to an inn around 1867. One theory about how the pub got its name is that about a hundred years earlier the butterfly had suddenly, and briefly, appeared in such great numbers that the event was called "The Great Surprise". Later, towards the end of the 19th century, they became quite common again in the district, and visiting entomologists coming to see them are reported to have refreshed themselves at the inn here, which was duly renamed after the famous event.
I also walked around, & photo-documented, the churchyard of St. John the Evangelist.
This was a 'bonus' as I hadn't planned to visit any cemeteries, but have now added another one to the 'collection' of ones I've been to.
All in all not a bad day. I wasn't able to get any surrepticious snaps of lardyarses, but-in a similar vein-this old cartoon from the airport tickled me!
And, yes you've already guess it, there was a connection! I'm not sure that it won't play up again, but hopefully whatever was wrong is sorted!
Now I'm on here I'm not in the mood for a long post! Despite having so much to say 'in my head' when I couldn't get onto my blog. Always the way eh? Plus I'm a bit tired now, having had a good few days of football messageboards to catch up with.
I had a nice day today. The rain that was due had turned up overnight, & it was dry. So I set out to visit a couple of places that I'd seen from an email service I've signed up to with Ian.
London, & the borders just outside, are full of untold amazing little places to see, which are way, way off the 'ordinary' tourist radar. It's those quirky little spots that I love. Two of them I visited today.
The first was an airport visitor centre, at a place where there's no longer an airport! On the Purley Way there's the only remains of Croydon Airport. Amazingly home to the first ever passenger service in the world. Though surely that should be joint-first, because if they were only the first they'd have had nowhere to land? It's popularity declined after the War, with the emergence of both Heathrow & Gatwick as the main London airports, as well as the urbanisation of the Croydon area, finally closing in September 1959. The old grass runways are long since built on, only the terminus buildings remain.
It's only open on the first Sunday of the month, but don't let that put you off. It's a working building, with a number of local businesses using it for offices, but at the back, up the stairs, the old control tower is now used as a couple of rooms for a small museum. We were taken round by an old boy who actually flew from here in the early thirties! As had another volunteer, who I chatted to, & he was ninety! Both were well spoken, & had no doubt had a privileged comfortable middle class up bringing, for early passenger aviation certainly wasn't within the price range of the working classes! I'm very much a working class (inverted) snob, but for once I listened & learned. They were fascinating. I love finding a little gem like this, free as well, & it was a cracking start to my day.
I'd spent almost an hour & a half here, I didn't think it would be that long, most of the afternoon was still ahead of me. It was still only just after one.
I got the bus back to Croydon, then jumped onto the tram, out towards Shirley. Another long lost local industry, but once again preserved. Again open only on the first Sunday of the month, & only from May to October. I was going to climb up the Shirley Windmill!
I got there a few minutes after two, & I only had ten minutes or so to wait until the next guided tour, at quarter past. You had to clamber up narrow staircases, & steep too, the steps like ladders, but without the 'gaps'. The chap giving the tour took us to the top, and talked us through each small floor, as we descended. I'll be honest, a lot of it went a little over my head, but only because I'm not that technically minded. I'm more 'local history' than 'industrial history'. But that's not to say it was boring. Another good hour spent here. I bought a guide book, and it also had a small walk around Shirley in it. As I didn't have time to head elswhere, as it was now almost four o'clock, I followed the route, & completed the not very strenuous circuit.
Something that interested me was one of the local pubs.
Called 'The Surprise', it had a local connection for me, as it was named after the rare Camberwell Beauty butterfly, which was shown on the pub sign. This building was formerly two cottages, converted to an inn around 1867. One theory about how the pub got its name is that about a hundred years earlier the butterfly had suddenly, and briefly, appeared in such great numbers that the event was called "The Great Surprise". Later, towards the end of the 19th century, they became quite common again in the district, and visiting entomologists coming to see them are reported to have refreshed themselves at the inn here, which was duly renamed after the famous event.
I also walked around, & photo-documented, the churchyard of St. John the Evangelist.
This was a 'bonus' as I hadn't planned to visit any cemeteries, but have now added another one to the 'collection' of ones I've been to.
All in all not a bad day. I wasn't able to get any surrepticious snaps of lardyarses, but-in a similar vein-this old cartoon from the airport tickled me!
Saturday, 6 June 2009
To anyone looking in....
I've got some connection problems with my laptop. I'm typing this at my local internet cafe.
I've been told by 'Three' that it's local connection upgrade, some sort of work involving the nearest mast(s) to me.
To be honest I think they're bullshitting, but they've said it should be sorted by Tuesday, so I'll give them the benfit of the doubt.
So far it's cost me eleven quid on mobile phone calls to them! So I'm not really that much of a happy chappy at the moment!
Keep your fingers crossed for me...
I've been told by 'Three' that it's local connection upgrade, some sort of work involving the nearest mast(s) to me.
To be honest I think they're bullshitting, but they've said it should be sorted by Tuesday, so I'll give them the benfit of the doubt.
So far it's cost me eleven quid on mobile phone calls to them! So I'm not really that much of a happy chappy at the moment!
Keep your fingers crossed for me...
Friday, 29 May 2009
It must be love!
A mate of mine has just started two new blogs.
One is a general wordy one.
The other is a football one.
It's early days at the moment, so he's not getting personal yet & talking about his love life...so I thought I'd be the one to 'out' him as a Marge lover!
One is a general wordy one.
The other is a football one.
It's early days at the moment, so he's not getting personal yet & talking about his love life...so I thought I'd be the one to 'out' him as a Marge lover!
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Sometimes there’s nothing wrong…
With blowing your own trumpet. And today is one of those days. Here’s a question for you. Do you know exactly where you were seven years ago?
I do.
I was lying at home in bed. Being sick, sweating hot & cold, shaking a little, & being sick until it hurt. Dashing to retch over the bath, throwing up nothing, as therewas no more to bring up, but my stomach still going through the painful motions.
I’d just got back from the first ever Supporters’ Team tour, which I’d organised. Back them I was obviously aware I was a heavy drinker, & deep down knew I was an alcoholic. In fact just over a year before I’d stayed on the wagon for just under two weeks, & gone to a few meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. But I went back on the booze, ‘kidding’ myself I could control my drinking. The truth was AA was ready for me, but I wasn’t ready for AA.
For every alcoholic there comes a moment in your life when you can’t get any lower from where you are (though many do fall further into their own personal abyss) & you accept you need help. I was lucky. I knew what AA was, at least.
But I was still very, very frightened. I phoned up a fellow Hamlet fan Madge, & asked him if I could go with him to a meeting the next day. I actually shared my thoughts at that meeting, & was extremely nervous. Worried in case I said the wrong thing! How stupid is that?!
I don’t go to many meeting nowadays, I know where they are when I need them, & I’m in the minority of people who use the ‘rooms’, as we like to call meetings, that hasn’t got a sponsor, or done the AA twelve step programme. Why? Don’t know really. Truth be know I think I’d let myself down, by lacking the dedication to follow them through. And at times I’m quite fragile emotionally anyway, so I don’t really know, or want to know, what can of worms I might open up for myself.
I done ok, anyway.
In case you haven’t worked out yet, I’m giving myself a huge, personal pat on the back, at today marks SEVEN YEARS OF SOBRIETY for me! It’s not something I shout from the rooftops, but I can to so on here!
My life isn’t perfect, not by a long chalk. But it’s moving on, hopefully, where I can start to look ahead to three or four years time, where I will, hopefully, be debt free, & I can start thinking of nicer holidays & maybe even saving money for the first time in my life.
But the most important thing is….even if I feel like shit, or am sinking into the depths of depression, my life is still a MILLION times better than when I was drinking.
I didn’t really think how much this day means to me, until a customer walked into work today. He’s also in AA, & I told him quietly that I was seven years today! He was so pleased, congratulating me, and an emotional warmth came over me, through his genuine kindness, that I almost started crying with joy! I was welling up certainly. And had to pop out the back, away from the public areas, for a few moments to compose myself.
This was three hours ago now (I’m typing this in my lunch-break) & I’m desperately trying to hide a huge grin ever since. But don’t worry I’m inwardly smiling, & I’ve got that all over ‘Ready Brek’ glow!
Tomorrow is just another day…but the greatest thing about it is that it’s a day where I won’t pick up a drink!
One day at a time! Marvellous!
I do.
I was lying at home in bed. Being sick, sweating hot & cold, shaking a little, & being sick until it hurt. Dashing to retch over the bath, throwing up nothing, as therewas no more to bring up, but my stomach still going through the painful motions.
I’d just got back from the first ever Supporters’ Team tour, which I’d organised. Back them I was obviously aware I was a heavy drinker, & deep down knew I was an alcoholic. In fact just over a year before I’d stayed on the wagon for just under two weeks, & gone to a few meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. But I went back on the booze, ‘kidding’ myself I could control my drinking. The truth was AA was ready for me, but I wasn’t ready for AA.
For every alcoholic there comes a moment in your life when you can’t get any lower from where you are (though many do fall further into their own personal abyss) & you accept you need help. I was lucky. I knew what AA was, at least.
But I was still very, very frightened. I phoned up a fellow Hamlet fan Madge, & asked him if I could go with him to a meeting the next day. I actually shared my thoughts at that meeting, & was extremely nervous. Worried in case I said the wrong thing! How stupid is that?!
I don’t go to many meeting nowadays, I know where they are when I need them, & I’m in the minority of people who use the ‘rooms’, as we like to call meetings, that hasn’t got a sponsor, or done the AA twelve step programme. Why? Don’t know really. Truth be know I think I’d let myself down, by lacking the dedication to follow them through. And at times I’m quite fragile emotionally anyway, so I don’t really know, or want to know, what can of worms I might open up for myself.
I done ok, anyway.
In case you haven’t worked out yet, I’m giving myself a huge, personal pat on the back, at today marks SEVEN YEARS OF SOBRIETY for me! It’s not something I shout from the rooftops, but I can to so on here!
My life isn’t perfect, not by a long chalk. But it’s moving on, hopefully, where I can start to look ahead to three or four years time, where I will, hopefully, be debt free, & I can start thinking of nicer holidays & maybe even saving money for the first time in my life.
But the most important thing is….even if I feel like shit, or am sinking into the depths of depression, my life is still a MILLION times better than when I was drinking.
I didn’t really think how much this day means to me, until a customer walked into work today. He’s also in AA, & I told him quietly that I was seven years today! He was so pleased, congratulating me, and an emotional warmth came over me, through his genuine kindness, that I almost started crying with joy! I was welling up certainly. And had to pop out the back, away from the public areas, for a few moments to compose myself.
This was three hours ago now (I’m typing this in my lunch-break) & I’m desperately trying to hide a huge grin ever since. But don’t worry I’m inwardly smiling, & I’ve got that all over ‘Ready Brek’ glow!
Tomorrow is just another day…but the greatest thing about it is that it’s a day where I won’t pick up a drink!
One day at a time! Marvellous!
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
You can't knock a freebie
I was passing through Victoria today, and outside the station there was someone handing out promotional freebies of mini 150ml cans of Pepsi. Not bad eh? You can't knock something for nothing. Well not unless some total stranger punches you in the face.
But this wasn't ordinary Pepsi. Or Pepsi Max. No! This was PEPSI RAW.
Pepsi what? Allow me....
The blurb on the tin tells us that it is NATURAL BORN COLA. Apparently Pepsi Raw was born differently to other colas. You won't find anything but naturally sourced ingredients here except for the bubbles. What you will find is a naturally great cola taste.
We're then invited to tell them what we think @ twitter.compepsiraw
No chance! I've just about got my head round Facebook thank you very much. That's enough 'interacting' for me, or whatever it's called. I promise you there's no way I'm going to joing the 'Twittering classes'.
Besides it wouldn't take me that long to tell them what I think of their Pepsi Max anyway...
It's fucking disgusting!
Not disgusting enough that I didn't go back & forth a few times claiming nine small tinnies in total. When it's free it's drinkable-just! But there's no way I'll be paying for the shit when it's on sale in the shops!
But this wasn't ordinary Pepsi. Or Pepsi Max. No! This was PEPSI RAW.
Pepsi what? Allow me....
The blurb on the tin tells us that it is NATURAL BORN COLA. Apparently Pepsi Raw was born differently to other colas. You won't find anything but naturally sourced ingredients here except for the bubbles. What you will find is a naturally great cola taste.
We're then invited to tell them what we think @ twitter.compepsiraw
No chance! I've just about got my head round Facebook thank you very much. That's enough 'interacting' for me, or whatever it's called. I promise you there's no way I'm going to joing the 'Twittering classes'.
Besides it wouldn't take me that long to tell them what I think of their Pepsi Max anyway...
It's fucking disgusting!
Not disgusting enough that I didn't go back & forth a few times claiming nine small tinnies in total. When it's free it's drinkable-just! But there's no way I'll be paying for the shit when it's on sale in the shops!
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
A terrible tragedy
over in America when a little four year old girl died in an acident on a running treadmill. She was playing on it & somehow got her head caught up in it, & a cord that hung under the console somehow acted as a noose, & she later died in hospital.
It's impossible to imagine what it must be like for anyone to lose a young child. Think about how bad it must be, then multiply it a thousand times or more, is my guess. My heart goes out to the childs mother.
No mention of the dad from me? Ah....
This is where my sympathy ends. for the father is none other than the former boxer Mike Tyson. The obnoxious piece of shit who is a convicted rapist who has never ever shown any remorse. Whilst I wouldn't wish anyone's child to die-even his-I hope he is suffering inside. Really, really hurting. He really is a horrible bastard from where I'm sitting. Rape is just one step below kiddie fiddlers, as far as I'm concerned. I've more 'respect', if that's the right word, for 'ordinary murderers'.
A few years ago the then loopy 'lost the plot' England manager Glenn Hoddle famously suggested in an interview with 'The Times' that he held a "controversial belief that the disabled, and others, are being punished for sins in a former life." No I'm coming round to this idea, with the death of Tyson's young daughter. He's not so much being punished for a previous life, though if reincarnation does exist I'm sure he was just as much a total cunt in that one too, but getting his just deserts for the way he's behaving in his current one. Bad karma comes back to haunt him and all that.
As I've said it's terrible that such a premature & tragic death could befall such an innocent little girl. but if these unfathomable things must happen...it couldn't happen to a more 'deserving' father!
It's impossible to imagine what it must be like for anyone to lose a young child. Think about how bad it must be, then multiply it a thousand times or more, is my guess. My heart goes out to the childs mother.
No mention of the dad from me? Ah....
This is where my sympathy ends. for the father is none other than the former boxer Mike Tyson. The obnoxious piece of shit who is a convicted rapist who has never ever shown any remorse. Whilst I wouldn't wish anyone's child to die-even his-I hope he is suffering inside. Really, really hurting. He really is a horrible bastard from where I'm sitting. Rape is just one step below kiddie fiddlers, as far as I'm concerned. I've more 'respect', if that's the right word, for 'ordinary murderers'.
A few years ago the then loopy 'lost the plot' England manager Glenn Hoddle famously suggested in an interview with 'The Times' that he held a "controversial belief that the disabled, and others, are being punished for sins in a former life." No I'm coming round to this idea, with the death of Tyson's young daughter. He's not so much being punished for a previous life, though if reincarnation does exist I'm sure he was just as much a total cunt in that one too, but getting his just deserts for the way he's behaving in his current one. Bad karma comes back to haunt him and all that.
As I've said it's terrible that such a premature & tragic death could befall such an innocent little girl. but if these unfathomable things must happen...it couldn't happen to a more 'deserving' father!
Monday, 25 May 2009
What a load of rubbish!
A couple of weeks or so ago I was given a leaflet.
The Sydenham and Forest Hill Youth Forum needs a makeover!
So the blurb said.
It went on: "The Forum is a youth organisation that works with young people within Sydenham, Forest Hill and Perry Vale. We're launching a new youth led participation project but our name (the sydenham and forest Hill Youth Forum) is long, and we know it. So we're asking you to come up with a cool logo that people your age will recognise as the place to get involved in anything youth-related. the chosen logo will win a brand new laptop, plus a professional design package."
So far so good, eh? Hmmm.....You can fell me going into 'old fogey mode' already can't you?
What they're actually doing is re-launching their youth project because their current one is clearly a total failure, or there'd be no need to 'launch' it. And as for the crap name, well YOU gave it the name in the first place!
Still, what's my problem? Just moaning for the sake of it, as per usual? Ask yourself where did I get the leaflet from? The local library perhaps? Or doctors surgery? Housing office? Answer? None of the above.
It was handed to me on a train. Well I'm 42, and look as if I've had a 'hard life' so you could easily guess another decade on my age, & it wouldn't surprise me. What I'm trying to say if I'm hardly within the catchment target group of this printed in thick card, in four colours (Ie: hardly cheap to produce) flier, so why was it dumped on me?
Because it wasn't just dumped on me! I was on a train heading for London Bridge, in the middle of the morning, after the rush hour had finished, and we were heading towards New Cross Gate,, with the train having started from Caterham, in the heart of suburban leafy Surrey. A polite middle aged woman was walking down the train, carriage by carriage, leaving a couple of leaflets on each set of seats!
Apart from the obvious about 'how fucking stupid!' as in who the bloody hell on this train is likely to be interested in this very youthful niche market, the person dishing them out is almost certainly ( now I don't know this, I guessing this based on my stereotypical compartmentaling) aone of the lefty, hoodie hugging, greenie save the planet brigade. Who, if I were to be dumping rubbish from my bag onto the floor of my carriage be tut-tutting away to themselves, but obviously, being a middle class tosser, not having the bollocks to speak up and have a moan.
This is where I let myself down, because I didn't really take in what this litter lout was dumping down the whole train, and only really got wound up by it when I got off at London Bridge & walked past the front two carriages littered with them. Now you could say that maybe passengers would pick them up as the train went back & forth up & down the line, but anyone who uses public transport will tell you this doesn't happen. As cleaners are always jumping on board at the terminus to clean them up, mainly as a result in the explosion of cheap, throwaway papersin the last few years. As if the minimum wage cleaners don't have enough shit to shovel they had a few hundred expensively produced crap to deal with.
It really makes me wonder what kind of idiots get jobs in the public sector like these sort of inter-acting forums with local youth? and you know what pisses me off most? I can guarantee you that the litter bug doing this vital youth consultation is paid a darn sight more than I am in my job!
The Sydenham and Forest Hill Youth Forum needs a makeover!
So the blurb said.
It went on: "The Forum is a youth organisation that works with young people within Sydenham, Forest Hill and Perry Vale. We're launching a new youth led participation project but our name (the sydenham and forest Hill Youth Forum) is long, and we know it. So we're asking you to come up with a cool logo that people your age will recognise as the place to get involved in anything youth-related. the chosen logo will win a brand new laptop, plus a professional design package."
So far so good, eh? Hmmm.....You can fell me going into 'old fogey mode' already can't you?
What they're actually doing is re-launching their youth project because their current one is clearly a total failure, or there'd be no need to 'launch' it. And as for the crap name, well YOU gave it the name in the first place!
Still, what's my problem? Just moaning for the sake of it, as per usual? Ask yourself where did I get the leaflet from? The local library perhaps? Or doctors surgery? Housing office? Answer? None of the above.
It was handed to me on a train. Well I'm 42, and look as if I've had a 'hard life' so you could easily guess another decade on my age, & it wouldn't surprise me. What I'm trying to say if I'm hardly within the catchment target group of this printed in thick card, in four colours (Ie: hardly cheap to produce) flier, so why was it dumped on me?
Because it wasn't just dumped on me! I was on a train heading for London Bridge, in the middle of the morning, after the rush hour had finished, and we were heading towards New Cross Gate,, with the train having started from Caterham, in the heart of suburban leafy Surrey. A polite middle aged woman was walking down the train, carriage by carriage, leaving a couple of leaflets on each set of seats!
Apart from the obvious about 'how fucking stupid!' as in who the bloody hell on this train is likely to be interested in this very youthful niche market, the person dishing them out is almost certainly ( now I don't know this, I guessing this based on my stereotypical compartmentaling) aone of the lefty, hoodie hugging, greenie save the planet brigade. Who, if I were to be dumping rubbish from my bag onto the floor of my carriage be tut-tutting away to themselves, but obviously, being a middle class tosser, not having the bollocks to speak up and have a moan.
This is where I let myself down, because I didn't really take in what this litter lout was dumping down the whole train, and only really got wound up by it when I got off at London Bridge & walked past the front two carriages littered with them. Now you could say that maybe passengers would pick them up as the train went back & forth up & down the line, but anyone who uses public transport will tell you this doesn't happen. As cleaners are always jumping on board at the terminus to clean them up, mainly as a result in the explosion of cheap, throwaway papersin the last few years. As if the minimum wage cleaners don't have enough shit to shovel they had a few hundred expensively produced crap to deal with.
It really makes me wonder what kind of idiots get jobs in the public sector like these sort of inter-acting forums with local youth? and you know what pisses me off most? I can guarantee you that the litter bug doing this vital youth consultation is paid a darn sight more than I am in my job!
Sunday, 24 May 2009
It's enough to make you break the law...
Or it would have been, if we still deported convicts to Australia!
A Sydney magistrate handed down a four-year drving ban to a 19 year old man for speeding, & has threatened him with jail if he carries on driving. So far so good. But the threat he issued to the lad is shocking, if not tempting, were you not to take it as a serious comment:
He was told that he will 'meet big, ugly, hairy,strong men there who will pay attention to you and your anatomy' & 'shower with the gorillas in the midst' if he fails to obey the ban.
It might seem funny at first, but be serious for a moment. What the fuck are judges who hold peoples' futures in their hands doing coming out with shit like this? You can bet your bottom (Australian) dollar, as opposed to just beting your bottom if you're in jail, that he is one of those judges who think that 'women ask for it' if they get raped when pissed.
A Sydney magistrate handed down a four-year drving ban to a 19 year old man for speeding, & has threatened him with jail if he carries on driving. So far so good. But the threat he issued to the lad is shocking, if not tempting, were you not to take it as a serious comment:
He was told that he will 'meet big, ugly, hairy,strong men there who will pay attention to you and your anatomy' & 'shower with the gorillas in the midst' if he fails to obey the ban.
It might seem funny at first, but be serious for a moment. What the fuck are judges who hold peoples' futures in their hands doing coming out with shit like this? You can bet your bottom (Australian) dollar, as opposed to just beting your bottom if you're in jail, that he is one of those judges who think that 'women ask for it' if they get raped when pissed.
Saturday, 23 May 2009
Are they connected?
I was over in north London yesterday. I went to the Emirates with a couple of colleagues from work to watch Arsenal take on Liverpool in the first leg of the FA Youth Cup Final.
Great value at a fiver, & a cracking game, 4-1 to the young Gooners. But I'm not posting to tell you that.
It was my 'half day', working til two, which happens every other Friday when it's my Saturday on. Rather than go home, then leave not long after, I walked around the Islington area for a while. Specifically visiting the local Islington Museum as I hadn't been there before.
I'm going to tell you about that either. Except to say it's worth a visit if you like local municipal museums, and that it's on the lower ground floor, below Finsbury Library.
It's the library that I do want to mention. now I'm a bit of a hoarder, when I'm in somewhere like a library outside my local area I always leave with a few free leaflets that I might find interesting. And this one was no different. Free local paper & some of historical walks around Islington, produced by the neighbourhood amenity group. Which are interesting in itself, but still not what I want to tell you about!
Nope, what I really want to share with you was two leaflets that were side by side to each other, in a somewhat unfortunate 'product placement' type way, that perhaps tells you more about the way my mind works...
The first was offering the services of London Friend.
The second was for the South Islington Stroke Club! Which wasn't the sort of 'stroke club' I'd associate with people who might need the services of the first leaflet!
Great value at a fiver, & a cracking game, 4-1 to the young Gooners. But I'm not posting to tell you that.
It was my 'half day', working til two, which happens every other Friday when it's my Saturday on. Rather than go home, then leave not long after, I walked around the Islington area for a while. Specifically visiting the local Islington Museum as I hadn't been there before.
I'm going to tell you about that either. Except to say it's worth a visit if you like local municipal museums, and that it's on the lower ground floor, below Finsbury Library.
It's the library that I do want to mention. now I'm a bit of a hoarder, when I'm in somewhere like a library outside my local area I always leave with a few free leaflets that I might find interesting. And this one was no different. Free local paper & some of historical walks around Islington, produced by the neighbourhood amenity group. Which are interesting in itself, but still not what I want to tell you about!
Nope, what I really want to share with you was two leaflets that were side by side to each other, in a somewhat unfortunate 'product placement' type way, that perhaps tells you more about the way my mind works...
The first was offering the services of London Friend.
The second was for the South Islington Stroke Club! Which wasn't the sort of 'stroke club' I'd associate with people who might need the services of the first leaflet!
Friday, 22 May 2009
What a fucking idiot I am!
And for once I mean it!
As I've mentioned, I'm off to Glasgow in three weeks, then the following weekend I will be in Brussels. I've had my flight booked for sweatyland for a few months, but Brussels is a recent thing. Wednesday was payday, so I booked my hostels for both trips, and my one in July to Helsinki & Riga. So far so good.
Then I wnet to book a Eurostar ticket at lunchtime yesterday. I can only afford thecheap book in advance £59 returns, so am restricted to certain trains. I'd had the first one, early Friday morning picked out, & a late one Sunday to come back. But when I went to book it the Sunday ones had gone up in price, and out of my budget.
So it was over to the Eurolines website to check the coach travel. not my chosen way, as it takes ten hours each way, but a neccesity, & as a little bonus I'll save about a fiver! Yes, you're right, that's no bonus at all really, I'm just trying to make myself feel a bit better.
Anyway, I've booked the coach, then printed off the e-ticket...Oh fuck it! I've only gone & booked the wrong date! I've gone & vought a coach ticket for the Glasgow dates going to Brussels! Shit, shit shit!
So I quickly phone up the number on the website, and am told it should be ok to change...then....because I've purchased a 'cheap deal' fun fare it's not possible to change it, & no refunds offered! Fuckity, fuck! The last thing I need, & can't afford, is to lose fifty quid! It's there right in front of my eyes, on the website, after I double check, when I've put the phone down.
The bloke from the call centre tells me to purchase another ticket, & send in a letter of explanation, with both bookings, to their Customer Relations Department & informed that "it shouldn't be a problem" to get a refund."
I won't be holding my breath waiting for one. It's my stupid mistake, which I simply shouldn't have done. Typical when I hve such a tight budget for my trips that I muck up like this. I'll cope, and if I get any money back that's a bonus.
It wouldn't surprise me if they issue a 'credit note' for another trip, which isn't what I want, as I prefer to go abroad by train, and taking the coach is only ever out of financial neccesity.
Nothing I can do about it, just got to get on with things eh?
As I've mentioned, I'm off to Glasgow in three weeks, then the following weekend I will be in Brussels. I've had my flight booked for sweatyland for a few months, but Brussels is a recent thing. Wednesday was payday, so I booked my hostels for both trips, and my one in July to Helsinki & Riga. So far so good.
Then I wnet to book a Eurostar ticket at lunchtime yesterday. I can only afford thecheap book in advance £59 returns, so am restricted to certain trains. I'd had the first one, early Friday morning picked out, & a late one Sunday to come back. But when I went to book it the Sunday ones had gone up in price, and out of my budget.
So it was over to the Eurolines website to check the coach travel. not my chosen way, as it takes ten hours each way, but a neccesity, & as a little bonus I'll save about a fiver! Yes, you're right, that's no bonus at all really, I'm just trying to make myself feel a bit better.
Anyway, I've booked the coach, then printed off the e-ticket...Oh fuck it! I've only gone & booked the wrong date! I've gone & vought a coach ticket for the Glasgow dates going to Brussels! Shit, shit shit!
So I quickly phone up the number on the website, and am told it should be ok to change...then....because I've purchased a 'cheap deal' fun fare it's not possible to change it, & no refunds offered! Fuckity, fuck! The last thing I need, & can't afford, is to lose fifty quid! It's there right in front of my eyes, on the website, after I double check, when I've put the phone down.
The bloke from the call centre tells me to purchase another ticket, & send in a letter of explanation, with both bookings, to their Customer Relations Department & informed that "it shouldn't be a problem" to get a refund."
I won't be holding my breath waiting for one. It's my stupid mistake, which I simply shouldn't have done. Typical when I hve such a tight budget for my trips that I muck up like this. I'll cope, and if I get any money back that's a bonus.
It wouldn't surprise me if they issue a 'credit note' for another trip, which isn't what I want, as I prefer to go abroad by train, and taking the coach is only ever out of financial neccesity.
Nothing I can do about it, just got to get on with things eh?
Thursday, 21 May 2009
When is a crisp not a crisp?
Well according to the makes of Pringles it's when it's a Pringle! Unfortunately for them the Court of Appeal disagreed. You might be wondering what the fuck they're bothering to go to court for? Of course they're bloody crisps! But this series of court cases wasn't about crisps, but tax evasion.
The Revenue people had said that they were potato snacks. Which is what crisps are made from. Why? Apparently most foods are exempt from VAT, but not 'potato snacks', as they're classed as 'savoury snacks'.
The Pringle merchants defence was that 'only' 42 per cent of the 'snacks' were potato, the rest made up of fat, flour, & assorted additives.
Well they look like crisps, taste like crisps....so that makes them crisps from where I'm sitting. Albeit fucking expensive ones. They are tasty, but pricy. The only time I buy them is when they're on a special offer, like 'buy one, get one free' type thing.
They are very 'moreish', in that they are curved, so you can put them over your tongue, and let them 'melt' as you crunch them.
It's all in the presentation, which is why they cost a few bob more than your average packs of Walkers. They're all the same shape & size. Almost a real life 'european banana' tale.You know the sort of anti-EU story that appears sporadically (& coming to you soon, with the European elections due) about all bananas needing to be a specific size & bend! (Thankfully not applied to cocks. Blow jobs would be much less fun if they were all the same shape & size!)
Pringles are now crisps, something we always knew. Poncy, overpriced crisps, but still tasty! Well the salt & vinegar ones are anyway. I do love salt & vinegar crisps. Which is a bit of pain as I'm off to Brussels in four weeks time. And one thing your 'Johnny Foreigners' don't like is salt & vinegar crisps. You can get all sorts of smelly cheesy one, with added garlic or parika. But traditional salt & vinegar? Nowhere! To think we bailed out the plucky little Belgians not once, but twice in the World Wars. And how do they repay us? Fucking disgusting paprika crisps!
Ungrateful bastards! No wonder we have to remind them sometimes that " If it wasn't for the Enlgish you'd be Krauts! "
The Revenue people had said that they were potato snacks. Which is what crisps are made from. Why? Apparently most foods are exempt from VAT, but not 'potato snacks', as they're classed as 'savoury snacks'.
The Pringle merchants defence was that 'only' 42 per cent of the 'snacks' were potato, the rest made up of fat, flour, & assorted additives.
Well they look like crisps, taste like crisps....so that makes them crisps from where I'm sitting. Albeit fucking expensive ones. They are tasty, but pricy. The only time I buy them is when they're on a special offer, like 'buy one, get one free' type thing.
They are very 'moreish', in that they are curved, so you can put them over your tongue, and let them 'melt' as you crunch them.
It's all in the presentation, which is why they cost a few bob more than your average packs of Walkers. They're all the same shape & size. Almost a real life 'european banana' tale.You know the sort of anti-EU story that appears sporadically (& coming to you soon, with the European elections due) about all bananas needing to be a specific size & bend! (Thankfully not applied to cocks. Blow jobs would be much less fun if they were all the same shape & size!)
Pringles are now crisps, something we always knew. Poncy, overpriced crisps, but still tasty! Well the salt & vinegar ones are anyway. I do love salt & vinegar crisps. Which is a bit of pain as I'm off to Brussels in four weeks time. And one thing your 'Johnny Foreigners' don't like is salt & vinegar crisps. You can get all sorts of smelly cheesy one, with added garlic or parika. But traditional salt & vinegar? Nowhere! To think we bailed out the plucky little Belgians not once, but twice in the World Wars. And how do they repay us? Fucking disgusting paprika crisps!
Ungrateful bastards! No wonder we have to remind them sometimes that " If it wasn't for the Enlgish you'd be Krauts! "
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Wednesday shopping!
Day off today! I don't work Wednesdays in my job, as I'm sure those of you who know me realise.
I indulged in one of little 'pikey' hobbies...all above board & legal, I hasten to add!
While I had a large bag of dirty clothes going round in the local laundrette I picked up my pre-ordered prescription from the chemist. Then had a nose in one of the local 'charidee' shops & picked up four more videos at ten bob each. A veritable bargain. Though once you see my choices you'll see why they're so cheap. Very 'hit & miss' I know, but when it's only fifty pence at stake it's a darn sight easier to give something a go & take a gamble, knowing it might be a complete & utter shite!
The Thin Red Line A Second World War film, that looks half decent, set in the Pacific. The actors in it, among others, include Sean Penn & George Clooney. One to save for a rainy day, as it last for two & three quarter hours.
Short Cuts is an unusual film, in that it's not an action one. It appears to be a, sort of, series of short films, interwoven into one, about 22 people in Los Angeles. the video was released on the arty-farty Artificial Eye label, which issues non-mainstream type films. Another lengthy one, lasting three hours!
Les Patterson Saves The World. He might well do...but I don't think he'll do much for the film industry! I'm not expecting this to be much cop at all, but it 'stars' both Sir Les Patterson & Dame Edna Everage. And I enjoy watching 'both' of them, so I thought I'd give this one a whirl.
Commando Leopard Described as 'action trash' in one review, so I dread to think how awful this one is. The only reason it caught my eye was because it had Lewis Collins in it. Not that he's a great actor, or anything. No, it's just that I watched every week as I grew up on 'The Professionals', & I did have a bit of a crush on his character Bodie in my early teens! ;-)
I indulged in one of little 'pikey' hobbies...all above board & legal, I hasten to add!
While I had a large bag of dirty clothes going round in the local laundrette I picked up my pre-ordered prescription from the chemist. Then had a nose in one of the local 'charidee' shops & picked up four more videos at ten bob each. A veritable bargain. Though once you see my choices you'll see why they're so cheap. Very 'hit & miss' I know, but when it's only fifty pence at stake it's a darn sight easier to give something a go & take a gamble, knowing it might be a complete & utter shite!
The Thin Red Line A Second World War film, that looks half decent, set in the Pacific. The actors in it, among others, include Sean Penn & George Clooney. One to save for a rainy day, as it last for two & three quarter hours.
Short Cuts is an unusual film, in that it's not an action one. It appears to be a, sort of, series of short films, interwoven into one, about 22 people in Los Angeles. the video was released on the arty-farty Artificial Eye label, which issues non-mainstream type films. Another lengthy one, lasting three hours!
Les Patterson Saves The World. He might well do...but I don't think he'll do much for the film industry! I'm not expecting this to be much cop at all, but it 'stars' both Sir Les Patterson & Dame Edna Everage. And I enjoy watching 'both' of them, so I thought I'd give this one a whirl.
Commando Leopard Described as 'action trash' in one review, so I dread to think how awful this one is. The only reason it caught my eye was because it had Lewis Collins in it. Not that he's a great actor, or anything. No, it's just that I watched every week as I grew up on 'The Professionals', & I did have a bit of a crush on his character Bodie in my early teens! ;-)
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
I heard of little white lies...
But this is bloody ridiculous!
So the (sub)Standard is under new ownership, but a leopard doesn't change it's spots!
So the (sub)Standard is under new ownership, but a leopard doesn't change it's spots!
Sunday, 17 May 2009
Army "Camp"
I was out & about up town today, having watched the Youth Team in the morning. I wasn't going anywhere in particular, just wnadering about for a couple of hours. I ended up gravitating towards one of my favourite museums.
In one of the First World War galleries there was a projected slideshow of recruitment propaganda posters.
Is this one the gayest one ever or what!
In one of the First World War galleries there was a projected slideshow of recruitment propaganda posters.
Is this one the gayest one ever or what!
Money, money, money....
Anyone got any spare?
It's payday on Wednesday, & it begins very tight budgeting for me. So tight I should have spent a lot less in the last month, but I've still got a few pennies left.
June & July sees me go on three trips, which is too many, my choice, but still a worry.
The Supporters' Team tour is at the end of July. We're going back to Helsinki to play the HJK fans again. An expensive city at the best of times, more so now with the economic recession, & the pound crashing against the Euro. I arrive there on a Thursday morning, & stay til the Sunday, when I am then getting the boat over to Estonia, then the early morning coach to Riga, in Latvia, where I fly home from on the Wednesday morning. I don't spend much money anyway, out of neccesity, so I'll cope. Finland is expensive, but I'll eat very cheaply, then treat myself in much cheaper Riga.
I also decided to go up to Glasgow for a long weekend, in June, as my good friend from Namur, Belgian Anorak, has his PSG Belgium supporters' team in the Queens Park FC supporters tournament at Lesser Hamden. Again I'm flying up, arriving Thursday, coming back on the Monday evening.
I'm also looking forward to that. There's a number of excellent free museums in glasgow, plus I'll try to get round some non-league grounds to photograph, if i can get into them. And it's 'normal' money, & chip shops are filling and cheap. not to mention the local delicacy! And on the Friday afternoon, when the Belgians arrive, we have a tour of the Scottish Football Museum arranged!
What threw a spanner in the works was another Supporters' Team trip! Usually we go away for a weekend early in the year, January or February. But the Gaffer announced that we wouldn't go on one, which I was disappointed about, as people would need money for the expensive trip to Finland. Which was fair enough. I went over to Belgium for a footballing weekend, staying with Belgian Anorak & his fiancee Rocky. Which I really enjoyed.
After I'd arranged to go to Glasgow though, flights already booked, the Gaffer announced we were going to Brussels in mid June-the weekend AFTER Glasgow luckily- for a tournament which he have got an invite for!
So I'm having to try to save every penny I have, to go to all three. Of course I could miss Brussels. But I haven't missed a Supporters' Tour yet, since we first went abroad in May 2002, a record I am personally very proud of, & one I don't want to break. I have to decide very soon how much time I stay in Brussels. I hope to go by early Eurostar on the Friday morning, the competition is on the Saturday, and get the last one back on the Sunday evening. I'm restricted to these times, by the cheap £59 return fare. The only alternative would be to get the Friday night coach there, & the Saturday night coach back. I don't really want to do that, as it only saves about a fiver, will be quite tiring two nights on the spin, but will obviously save me spending money.
I've fingers crossed I'll scrape/save enough shekels together for everything, & I know I'll enjoy my times away, even if I'm short of cash. I'm just scared I don't have the discipline/willpower to not spend any money over the next couple of months on anything else!
Hopefully I'll be ok...fingers crossed for me! ;-)
It's payday on Wednesday, & it begins very tight budgeting for me. So tight I should have spent a lot less in the last month, but I've still got a few pennies left.
June & July sees me go on three trips, which is too many, my choice, but still a worry.
The Supporters' Team tour is at the end of July. We're going back to Helsinki to play the HJK fans again. An expensive city at the best of times, more so now with the economic recession, & the pound crashing against the Euro. I arrive there on a Thursday morning, & stay til the Sunday, when I am then getting the boat over to Estonia, then the early morning coach to Riga, in Latvia, where I fly home from on the Wednesday morning. I don't spend much money anyway, out of neccesity, so I'll cope. Finland is expensive, but I'll eat very cheaply, then treat myself in much cheaper Riga.
I also decided to go up to Glasgow for a long weekend, in June, as my good friend from Namur, Belgian Anorak, has his PSG Belgium supporters' team in the Queens Park FC supporters tournament at Lesser Hamden. Again I'm flying up, arriving Thursday, coming back on the Monday evening.
I'm also looking forward to that. There's a number of excellent free museums in glasgow, plus I'll try to get round some non-league grounds to photograph, if i can get into them. And it's 'normal' money, & chip shops are filling and cheap. not to mention the local delicacy! And on the Friday afternoon, when the Belgians arrive, we have a tour of the Scottish Football Museum arranged!
What threw a spanner in the works was another Supporters' Team trip! Usually we go away for a weekend early in the year, January or February. But the Gaffer announced that we wouldn't go on one, which I was disappointed about, as people would need money for the expensive trip to Finland. Which was fair enough. I went over to Belgium for a footballing weekend, staying with Belgian Anorak & his fiancee Rocky. Which I really enjoyed.
After I'd arranged to go to Glasgow though, flights already booked, the Gaffer announced we were going to Brussels in mid June-the weekend AFTER Glasgow luckily- for a tournament which he have got an invite for!
So I'm having to try to save every penny I have, to go to all three. Of course I could miss Brussels. But I haven't missed a Supporters' Tour yet, since we first went abroad in May 2002, a record I am personally very proud of, & one I don't want to break. I have to decide very soon how much time I stay in Brussels. I hope to go by early Eurostar on the Friday morning, the competition is on the Saturday, and get the last one back on the Sunday evening. I'm restricted to these times, by the cheap £59 return fare. The only alternative would be to get the Friday night coach there, & the Saturday night coach back. I don't really want to do that, as it only saves about a fiver, will be quite tiring two nights on the spin, but will obviously save me spending money.
I've fingers crossed I'll scrape/save enough shekels together for everything, & I know I'll enjoy my times away, even if I'm short of cash. I'm just scared I don't have the discipline/willpower to not spend any money over the next couple of months on anything else!
Hopefully I'll be ok...fingers crossed for me! ;-)
Anyone got a tissue?
How embarrassing! But don't worry nobody I knew noticed!
I was on my way home early evening yesterday, & I was going through London Bridge Station. The toilets were open on one of the quieter platforms, so I decided to pop in there and see if there was anything going on. Not my 'cottage' of choice, as the station can be busy at times, which makes people a bit nervous in the toilets (understandably) and there are police based on the station.
I stood at the urinal, I needed a slash anyway, glanced quickly to my right to ascertain that the others were not just having a pee, and sure enough, the other three people there were 'willy waving'. To cut a long story short the bloke next to me grabbed my cock and wanked me off. Now I hadn't played with myself for a couple of days so I shot all over the place! I wiped up with my fingers and rinsed my hands under the tap...after licking them, naturally! ;-)
So far so good. I walked down the ramp to towards the platforms for my train, and at the bottom of them, where there were a number of people milling about, waiting for their trains to pop up on the boards, I noticed a couple of funny looks & quick grins as I went past. I looked down....
And there on the front of my trouser leg was a big glob of my spunk! Whoops.... Must clean up more in future! serve me right for storing it up a couple of days! ;-)
I was on my way home early evening yesterday, & I was going through London Bridge Station. The toilets were open on one of the quieter platforms, so I decided to pop in there and see if there was anything going on. Not my 'cottage' of choice, as the station can be busy at times, which makes people a bit nervous in the toilets (understandably) and there are police based on the station.
I stood at the urinal, I needed a slash anyway, glanced quickly to my right to ascertain that the others were not just having a pee, and sure enough, the other three people there were 'willy waving'. To cut a long story short the bloke next to me grabbed my cock and wanked me off. Now I hadn't played with myself for a couple of days so I shot all over the place! I wiped up with my fingers and rinsed my hands under the tap...after licking them, naturally! ;-)
So far so good. I walked down the ramp to towards the platforms for my train, and at the bottom of them, where there were a number of people milling about, waiting for their trains to pop up on the boards, I noticed a couple of funny looks & quick grins as I went past. I looked down....
And there on the front of my trouser leg was a big glob of my spunk! Whoops.... Must clean up more in future! serve me right for storing it up a couple of days! ;-)
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
I never thought I'd side with the Old Bill but...
There was a story of an ongoing court case in the papers this morning, & I had to stop myself from swearing out loud on the train!
You know...one of those "What the Fuck...!?!" moments.
Hasanali Khoja is a Muslim catering manager with the Metropolitan Police who was asked to cook sausages and bacon for his job, and is now claiming damages for religious discrimination.
He claims his bosses knew he was not supposed to handle pork, which is forbidden in Islam, when he began working for them in 2004. But the 60 year-old, from Edgware, in north London, said he was told to when transferred from Hendon to Heathrow Airport in February 2007.
The first thing that springs to mind is what on earth were the 'bend over backwards political correctness brigade' doing by emplying someone who couldn't cook an esential fuel for a 24/7 workplace, like a police station, namely an traditional full English breakfast?
But then, if this man was so religiously principled as he claims to be what on earth was he doing going for a job where he even worked with pork?
The sheer hypocracy from yet another religious nutter! For that is what he is! I desperately hope that common sense prevails & this stupid claim is thrown right out of court, just as the case brought by the christian bible bashing barmy woman was last year, who was a registrar with Islington Council, & refused to officiate at civil partnerships because she didn't believe in gay marriage. (Civil Partnerships NOT being marriage anyway, as the bigots in churches & mosques & other assorted temples of hate, refuse to allow them. So much for equality eh?)
If pork is such a sinful thing for Muslims to touch can you explain how many small businesses run by followers of Islam get round this when they sell their overpriced sausages & bacon, stacked up in the fridges of their over priced corner shops?
What a load of old bollocks!
You know...one of those "What the Fuck...!?!" moments.
Hasanali Khoja is a Muslim catering manager with the Metropolitan Police who was asked to cook sausages and bacon for his job, and is now claiming damages for religious discrimination.
He claims his bosses knew he was not supposed to handle pork, which is forbidden in Islam, when he began working for them in 2004. But the 60 year-old, from Edgware, in north London, said he was told to when transferred from Hendon to Heathrow Airport in February 2007.
The first thing that springs to mind is what on earth were the 'bend over backwards political correctness brigade' doing by emplying someone who couldn't cook an esential fuel for a 24/7 workplace, like a police station, namely an traditional full English breakfast?
But then, if this man was so religiously principled as he claims to be what on earth was he doing going for a job where he even worked with pork?
The sheer hypocracy from yet another religious nutter! For that is what he is! I desperately hope that common sense prevails & this stupid claim is thrown right out of court, just as the case brought by the christian bible bashing barmy woman was last year, who was a registrar with Islington Council, & refused to officiate at civil partnerships because she didn't believe in gay marriage. (Civil Partnerships NOT being marriage anyway, as the bigots in churches & mosques & other assorted temples of hate, refuse to allow them. So much for equality eh?)
If pork is such a sinful thing for Muslims to touch can you explain how many small businesses run by followers of Islam get round this when they sell their overpriced sausages & bacon, stacked up in the fridges of their over priced corner shops?
What a load of old bollocks!
Friday, 8 May 2009
Hand on heart
Tell me you wouldn't do the same if you were an Honourable Member of Parliament.
Claiming for this, receipts for that. More homes than the local council before Maggie allowed them all to be sold off.
Greedy. Out of touch with reality. Not fit to govern.
All fair points at first glance. But do you really think it's only the politicians in power who are raking it in? No chance! It's called human nature.
I have no idea what you work as, but if you could claim expenses on things that are actually unrelated to your work, but day to day living are you really saying you wouldn't? It's not the politicians that are greedy, even if they are-if that makes sense-but the system that's at fault.
Strange isn't it how the papers are concentrating on the Labour ones, anyone would think they had a (not so) hidden agenda of getting an Old Etonian crony into Number Ten. And why not? The right wing establishment media, led by the Evening (sub)Standard got Bumbling Boris elected as Mayor of London, so what's to stop them doing the same nationally with toffee nosed Cuntish Cameron?
The whole story has nothing to do whatsoever with the integrity of politicians, but everything to do with getting the tories back in power. That's a tory party with fuck all idea of how to govern, even less than nouveau Labour. Which isn't that surprising as they are the same in all but name.
Compared to the average man in the street MPs are paid a fortune, but in the 'real world' they are not paid that much for the task of 'running the country'. I'm not going to say I don't begrudge them a penny because I'd be lying through the gaps in my teeth. But if they can make money, & give work to family & friends in the process, they'de be mugs not to.
I'm not sticking up for them, just being realistic. Who the fuck is going to turn down money if they're being offered it? They may all be a bunch of cunts, but htey're not a bunch of stupid cunts!
Claiming for this, receipts for that. More homes than the local council before Maggie allowed them all to be sold off.
Greedy. Out of touch with reality. Not fit to govern.
All fair points at first glance. But do you really think it's only the politicians in power who are raking it in? No chance! It's called human nature.
I have no idea what you work as, but if you could claim expenses on things that are actually unrelated to your work, but day to day living are you really saying you wouldn't? It's not the politicians that are greedy, even if they are-if that makes sense-but the system that's at fault.
Strange isn't it how the papers are concentrating on the Labour ones, anyone would think they had a (not so) hidden agenda of getting an Old Etonian crony into Number Ten. And why not? The right wing establishment media, led by the Evening (sub)Standard got Bumbling Boris elected as Mayor of London, so what's to stop them doing the same nationally with toffee nosed Cuntish Cameron?
The whole story has nothing to do whatsoever with the integrity of politicians, but everything to do with getting the tories back in power. That's a tory party with fuck all idea of how to govern, even less than nouveau Labour. Which isn't that surprising as they are the same in all but name.
Compared to the average man in the street MPs are paid a fortune, but in the 'real world' they are not paid that much for the task of 'running the country'. I'm not going to say I don't begrudge them a penny because I'd be lying through the gaps in my teeth. But if they can make money, & give work to family & friends in the process, they'de be mugs not to.
I'm not sticking up for them, just being realistic. Who the fuck is going to turn down money if they're being offered it? They may all be a bunch of cunts, but htey're not a bunch of stupid cunts!
Thursday, 7 May 2009
It's been a while
since I've posted. Over two weeks in fact. It's not that I've had nothing to say. I've always got an opinion or two. Nope. It's the age old problem of not enough hours in a day. so while I've got an idea or two in my head by the time I get home from work & have finished bits & pieces looking at various messageboards, or sorting out my photoblogs, I'm then a bit too cream crackered to start tapping away at the old keyboard.
Which is a shame. For me. As I do enjoy blogging, and I've probably got too many blogs on the go. In no particular order....
The Supporters' Team one. Updated once in a while, over the season, not too often, but when I do it's very time consuming.
My general photo one. Ditto, & not updated as much as I should. This is where I 'dump' anything & everything that doesn't fit into other ones.
My football grounds photo one. The one I currently work on most. A labour of love really. I started it a year ago, & over a hundred grounds covered, with over twenty one thousand hits!
My cemeteries & memorials one. The one that I have least time for. But slowly & surely building up. The problem is each post has a lot of snaps included, as I cover a cemetery by publishing anything from fifty to a couple of hundred snaps.
My London sights (& further afield) one. I started this at the start of the year, the aim was to include one post a week, of a museum or some other visitor attraction,but this seems to be beyond me. The visits I can do, as I don't work Wednesdays, but the actual getting the posts done is where I fall behind.
So that's my excuse for not 'wordy blogging' much on here recently. not much of one I know.
And what do I go and do? Like a complete and utter muppet I go and start yet another photo blog!
But at least I've had the sense to make sure it's one where a photo or two speaks louder than words! Enjoy! ;-)
Which is a shame. For me. As I do enjoy blogging, and I've probably got too many blogs on the go. In no particular order....
The Supporters' Team one. Updated once in a while, over the season, not too often, but when I do it's very time consuming.
My general photo one. Ditto, & not updated as much as I should. This is where I 'dump' anything & everything that doesn't fit into other ones.
My football grounds photo one. The one I currently work on most. A labour of love really. I started it a year ago, & over a hundred grounds covered, with over twenty one thousand hits!
My cemeteries & memorials one. The one that I have least time for. But slowly & surely building up. The problem is each post has a lot of snaps included, as I cover a cemetery by publishing anything from fifty to a couple of hundred snaps.
My London sights (& further afield) one. I started this at the start of the year, the aim was to include one post a week, of a museum or some other visitor attraction,but this seems to be beyond me. The visits I can do, as I don't work Wednesdays, but the actual getting the posts done is where I fall behind.
So that's my excuse for not 'wordy blogging' much on here recently. not much of one I know.
And what do I go and do? Like a complete and utter muppet I go and start yet another photo blog!
But at least I've had the sense to make sure it's one where a photo or two speaks louder than words! Enjoy! ;-)
Die you swine!
The end of the world is nigh!
Swine Flu is going to kill us all!
Actually it's quite funny. Not the actual 'threat' of Swine Flu, but looking at the reaction of others when you sneeze on the train into work. And at the moment is sort of sneezy weather. I don't suffer from hay fever, least not that I know of. Though I think I may have some sort of mild version of it. On hot, summery hay fever type days I can sneeze a bit too much, and sometimes have sore eyes. But not too serious. Certainly not anything to bother about, it's just mildly irritating. So I just get on with things, rather than bother my quack about it.
With this Swine Flu I'll just get on with things as well. At the moment it may not be quite as serious as is being hyped up by the media. It's possible there could be a lull, with a mega outbreak in the autumn. Who knows? I'm happy to take my chances. That's not to play down it's potential seriousness, but the majority of those that may die will be the weaker anyway. The old, the young. Those with lower immune systems. In short people who are more susceptible to illness anyway.
I'm one of those who will shrug his shoulders, wonder what all the fuss is, & get on with things. If I catch it I'll just suffer at home, if I can't get into work, & struggle on through until I'm feeling better, only leaving the house for football!
I'm not scientist so I have no way of predicting where this Swine Flu will go. If it cripples half of London then fingers crossed it's not too painful when I catch it. One 'bonus' if I do get infected is that I'm recently diagnosed diabetic, so I have a card where all my prescriptions are free. Not to be sniffed at, so to speak, at over seven quid a pop!
So where has this Swine Flu come from? Mexico apparently. And from pigs. Which is why I'd call it Mexican Flu, rather than Swine Flu, because it's infecting the swine directly in London.
I don't know if you've noticed but a number of schools have been closed as a precaution, after some of their pupils have fallen ill. But no ordinary schools. No sir, no!
Alleyn's in Dulwich: £4,332 per term.
Dolphin School, Clapham: Between £4,290 to £8,070 a year.
South Hampstead High School: £3,700 per term.
Hang on....a flu bug that wipes out the toffee nosed privileged swine that 'buy' their education, giving them a huge unfair advantage in life, simply because they have more money than ordinary people. Put it like that & I'm happy for them to be dropping like flies. Not quite happening. Anyone sufferinf from it are simply quarantined & confined at home, if not in hospital. Which is funny in itself. As they've just got to sweat it out, & there's nothing that their private, queue jumping health schemes like BUPA can do to make them recover ant quicker than a 'common oik' AKA working class person living on a run down inner city council estate!
Swine Flu indeed! I suppose that sounds a bit more acceptable & comforting than Class War Death Flu, to give it its proper name. Manufactured in a dingy basement flat in a rundown Hackney backstreet! Now wouldn't that be marvellous!
We can all but dream eh? ;-)
Swine Flu is going to kill us all!
Actually it's quite funny. Not the actual 'threat' of Swine Flu, but looking at the reaction of others when you sneeze on the train into work. And at the moment is sort of sneezy weather. I don't suffer from hay fever, least not that I know of. Though I think I may have some sort of mild version of it. On hot, summery hay fever type days I can sneeze a bit too much, and sometimes have sore eyes. But not too serious. Certainly not anything to bother about, it's just mildly irritating. So I just get on with things, rather than bother my quack about it.
With this Swine Flu I'll just get on with things as well. At the moment it may not be quite as serious as is being hyped up by the media. It's possible there could be a lull, with a mega outbreak in the autumn. Who knows? I'm happy to take my chances. That's not to play down it's potential seriousness, but the majority of those that may die will be the weaker anyway. The old, the young. Those with lower immune systems. In short people who are more susceptible to illness anyway.
I'm one of those who will shrug his shoulders, wonder what all the fuss is, & get on with things. If I catch it I'll just suffer at home, if I can't get into work, & struggle on through until I'm feeling better, only leaving the house for football!
I'm not scientist so I have no way of predicting where this Swine Flu will go. If it cripples half of London then fingers crossed it's not too painful when I catch it. One 'bonus' if I do get infected is that I'm recently diagnosed diabetic, so I have a card where all my prescriptions are free. Not to be sniffed at, so to speak, at over seven quid a pop!
So where has this Swine Flu come from? Mexico apparently. And from pigs. Which is why I'd call it Mexican Flu, rather than Swine Flu, because it's infecting the swine directly in London.
I don't know if you've noticed but a number of schools have been closed as a precaution, after some of their pupils have fallen ill. But no ordinary schools. No sir, no!
Alleyn's in Dulwich: £4,332 per term.
Dolphin School, Clapham: Between £4,290 to £8,070 a year.
South Hampstead High School: £3,700 per term.
Hang on....a flu bug that wipes out the toffee nosed privileged swine that 'buy' their education, giving them a huge unfair advantage in life, simply because they have more money than ordinary people. Put it like that & I'm happy for them to be dropping like flies. Not quite happening. Anyone sufferinf from it are simply quarantined & confined at home, if not in hospital. Which is funny in itself. As they've just got to sweat it out, & there's nothing that their private, queue jumping health schemes like BUPA can do to make them recover ant quicker than a 'common oik' AKA working class person living on a run down inner city council estate!
Swine Flu indeed! I suppose that sounds a bit more acceptable & comforting than Class War Death Flu, to give it its proper name. Manufactured in a dingy basement flat in a rundown Hackney backstreet! Now wouldn't that be marvellous!
We can all but dream eh? ;-)
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
I'm 100% pro welfare state but...
sometimes you have to question what they are for?
I'm no politician, but to the biggest problem is not that there are so many benefits out there, nor that 'all the foreigners' claim them. (Which is actually a racist urban myth) Non English residents are as entitled to receive benefits as much as you or me, it just so happens that immigrants are often at the bottom of the pile, so are more likely to have no work, or be in the poorest paid jobs. And it's actually notp ossible for asylum seekers to sign on.
My only gripe with the system isn't that money is available, but that once on the benefits money-go-round it's hard to jump off. Take a job & you lose your welfare payments, which is to be expected. BUT you also lose your housing benefit, & things like that, so you have to be in a decently paid job to be able to afford to live and pay the rent/mortgage as well as have a minimum basic lifestyle. A total benefits trap, which I don't have the answer to.
So while I'm one hundred per cent behind the welfare state I'm also supportive of the campaigns for people to shop benefit cheats. Those who sign on, but work in the 'hidden economy'. Not that I'd grass anyone up myself, but there are enough people who will. And if you fiddle your benefits you deserve to get done! The irony being many of those who do cheat are poor white working class, who moan about immigrants taking 'our jobs and houses'! A generalisation from me, but it's true!
As I said I don't know what the answer is, but one deterrent would be to bang people up when they are caught. I have no idea how many cheat are discovered & punished year by year, I'm sure the stats are out there, but it's the stories that make the papers that are the ones that will put people off.
Or give them the green light to go ahead & chance their luck if this story from the 'Croydon Advertiser' is anything to go by.
Tracy Gowlett, a 47 year old mother of three was spared jail after magistrates were reported to have taken pity on her. She had fiddled over ten grand worth of benefits. A combination of income support, housing benefits & council tax benefits, after she failed to tell the authorities that her husband had moved back in with here. He'd apparently moved out in 2001 because of 'extreme financial hardship'. Maybe if they'd been on the fiddle earlier he wouldn't have had to bugger off in the first place...
Because she sobbed in court, & pleaded if she had gone to prison her old man would have had to give up his job to care for their children, she was 'punished' with forty hours community service! That's a whole working week to do! Hardly aa sentence to put you off is it?
She has already paid back £750 of what she bogusly claimed, having got a job in a supermarket. Which sounds all well & good, until you read that before that she hadn't had a job since since she was 24-yes you read that right. A 'mere' twenty three years. Presumably milking the benefits system dry. Suddenly she gets rumbled for being on the fiddle &, hey presto, a convenient job before she's up before a gullible beak!
What odds she stops working, & her repayments go out of the window at the same time, before the year is out?
I have no idea what this woman & her family are like, but I'd bet my last fiver that she would fit in perfectly as a guest on the Jeremy Kyle show!
I'm no politician, but to the biggest problem is not that there are so many benefits out there, nor that 'all the foreigners' claim them. (Which is actually a racist urban myth) Non English residents are as entitled to receive benefits as much as you or me, it just so happens that immigrants are often at the bottom of the pile, so are more likely to have no work, or be in the poorest paid jobs. And it's actually notp ossible for asylum seekers to sign on.
My only gripe with the system isn't that money is available, but that once on the benefits money-go-round it's hard to jump off. Take a job & you lose your welfare payments, which is to be expected. BUT you also lose your housing benefit, & things like that, so you have to be in a decently paid job to be able to afford to live and pay the rent/mortgage as well as have a minimum basic lifestyle. A total benefits trap, which I don't have the answer to.
So while I'm one hundred per cent behind the welfare state I'm also supportive of the campaigns for people to shop benefit cheats. Those who sign on, but work in the 'hidden economy'. Not that I'd grass anyone up myself, but there are enough people who will. And if you fiddle your benefits you deserve to get done! The irony being many of those who do cheat are poor white working class, who moan about immigrants taking 'our jobs and houses'! A generalisation from me, but it's true!
As I said I don't know what the answer is, but one deterrent would be to bang people up when they are caught. I have no idea how many cheat are discovered & punished year by year, I'm sure the stats are out there, but it's the stories that make the papers that are the ones that will put people off.
Or give them the green light to go ahead & chance their luck if this story from the 'Croydon Advertiser' is anything to go by.
Tracy Gowlett, a 47 year old mother of three was spared jail after magistrates were reported to have taken pity on her. She had fiddled over ten grand worth of benefits. A combination of income support, housing benefits & council tax benefits, after she failed to tell the authorities that her husband had moved back in with here. He'd apparently moved out in 2001 because of 'extreme financial hardship'. Maybe if they'd been on the fiddle earlier he wouldn't have had to bugger off in the first place...
Because she sobbed in court, & pleaded if she had gone to prison her old man would have had to give up his job to care for their children, she was 'punished' with forty hours community service! That's a whole working week to do! Hardly aa sentence to put you off is it?
She has already paid back £750 of what she bogusly claimed, having got a job in a supermarket. Which sounds all well & good, until you read that before that she hadn't had a job since since she was 24-yes you read that right. A 'mere' twenty three years. Presumably milking the benefits system dry. Suddenly she gets rumbled for being on the fiddle &, hey presto, a convenient job before she's up before a gullible beak!
What odds she stops working, & her repayments go out of the window at the same time, before the year is out?
I have no idea what this woman & her family are like, but I'd bet my last fiver that she would fit in perfectly as a guest on the Jeremy Kyle show!
Sunday, 19 April 2009
Darting about on a Sunday
Today I was ashamed of my Football Club. I say ‘my’ Club, I am a mere supporter, it’s no more mine than yours really. But I put a claim in by way of my lifelong stint as a fan.
This afternoon I was a mere bandwagon jumping bystander really, if I’m honest. So it might be a bit rich of me to say I was ‘ashamed’. Perhaps I could downgrade that to ‘saddened’.
For the first time this season I saw one of our many Junior sides, apart from the Under Eighteens, who I watch regularly on a Sunday morning. I ventured over to the far south-eastern edge of London to Bexley Park Sports Club in Darford, for the Selkent League Under Sixteen Challenge Cup Final between our boys & Our Lady Youth.
I didn’t know anything really about either side, but gleaned from the League website that the oppo were undefeated in the league, having only conceded six goals; & that we were second, but a good few points behind, having drawn & lost a few. So they would have been red hot favourites. Which I guess would have scuppered my plan to send in a snap to our local rag. But I’d still go for a team photo afterwards, if we lost. Not so much a happy snap, as maybe a few forced grins.
That was my plan…
In the end we lost 5-3, but what a fucking shock we gave them! We went one up, then got another, before they pulled one back. But restored our two goal advantage, to go three up at by half time. But after the break it was another story. They attacked in waves, although we did have some half decent chances, but they hit back, with a couple of late goals finally doing us.
Now I know these are young lads & they're gutted as losing, but their lack of discipline was awful at the end. After we were looking beaten one of our players walked off the pitch! At the final whistle, after the obligitory begrudged handshakes some of our team threw their shirts on the floor, showing no respect to them. Others got changed on the spot, & at least one left the ground before the medals were presented. The boy who walked off during the game was moaning at how shit all his team were, as if he was a star!
How the manager allows this petulant behaviour is beyond me! It was an embarrassment to watch. So much so that I trudged out of the playing field with a heavy heart, before the presentations. I was embarrassed by their childish reaction. Whatever happened to dignity in defeat & pride in the shirt?
Instead of walking a mile & a half back into Bexley I strolled in the other direction, entirely sure where I was off to, but following my A to Z. Heading to Dartford town centre, not for any reason other than it was a nice sunny spring afternoon, & it was now getting dark later. Why? I wasn't going there to see anything in particular, I just fancied the walk. Part of it along the edge of Dartford Heath, and in the town through Central Park. I 'splashed out' on a large bottle of Pepsi Max , which was on a special offer at only a pound at a little corner shop. When I drank 'proper' soft drinks I was always a Coca Cola man, but since being told I'm diabetic thre months ago, I'll drink either because the low/no sugar ones are as shit as each other!
So I was swigging & walking & strange as it may sound just enjoyed doing that. It wasn't particularly scenic, as 'scenic' what I like. My type of scenic is looking & observing. town centres, buildings, that sort of thing. Much of it was with a wood to my left, & a road to my right. walking by Dartford Heath was pleasant enough, lots of yellow flowers, but roughly wild scrubland, not exactly picture postcard, but still countryfied to me, as a London boy. It was warm, but not baking. And while walking through the Heath I got thinking about how I'd love to strip off & sunbathe-which I never! Naturism is something I've never done, but would actually like to one day somewhere, just to feel the 'freedom' of fresh air on my body. I certainly wouldn't do it in the summer when it was hot as I get sunburnt easily & burn bright red & peel. I wouldn't wish that on my dick! ;-)
I also passed a small football club, Fleetdown United, from the Kent County League, unfortunately the gates were locked, so I couldn't nose in & take some snaps. But at least I know where the ground is now. I've seen a couple of matches in this league recently. At Lewisham Borough & Crockenhill. A very low standard, but pleasantly enjoyable, if you take into account they're keen but not very talented. Plus it's very cheap! Couple of quid at most if they do a programme.
Which helps, as I've really got to save money over the next three months, as I've got three trips planned, & I need every spare penny so I can actually live on them! Today was cheap, and I kept myself lazily busy, So I can't complain. The 'hard bit' starts tomorrow, as it's payday, & money will be in my pocket again. The easiest thing to do is to 'save' money by not spending any when you've none in your pocket. The difficult part is not to spend it when you have it! I really think I will be disciplined enough to do this, as I have no choice if I want to survive on my little break, & f I can get into the habit of spending less money then I can save some more, both for other trips and to pay off more debts.
This afternoon I was a mere bandwagon jumping bystander really, if I’m honest. So it might be a bit rich of me to say I was ‘ashamed’. Perhaps I could downgrade that to ‘saddened’.
For the first time this season I saw one of our many Junior sides, apart from the Under Eighteens, who I watch regularly on a Sunday morning. I ventured over to the far south-eastern edge of London to Bexley Park Sports Club in Darford, for the Selkent League Under Sixteen Challenge Cup Final between our boys & Our Lady Youth.
I didn’t know anything really about either side, but gleaned from the League website that the oppo were undefeated in the league, having only conceded six goals; & that we were second, but a good few points behind, having drawn & lost a few. So they would have been red hot favourites. Which I guess would have scuppered my plan to send in a snap to our local rag. But I’d still go for a team photo afterwards, if we lost. Not so much a happy snap, as maybe a few forced grins.
That was my plan…
In the end we lost 5-3, but what a fucking shock we gave them! We went one up, then got another, before they pulled one back. But restored our two goal advantage, to go three up at by half time. But after the break it was another story. They attacked in waves, although we did have some half decent chances, but they hit back, with a couple of late goals finally doing us.
Now I know these are young lads & they're gutted as losing, but their lack of discipline was awful at the end. After we were looking beaten one of our players walked off the pitch! At the final whistle, after the obligitory begrudged handshakes some of our team threw their shirts on the floor, showing no respect to them. Others got changed on the spot, & at least one left the ground before the medals were presented. The boy who walked off during the game was moaning at how shit all his team were, as if he was a star!
How the manager allows this petulant behaviour is beyond me! It was an embarrassment to watch. So much so that I trudged out of the playing field with a heavy heart, before the presentations. I was embarrassed by their childish reaction. Whatever happened to dignity in defeat & pride in the shirt?
Instead of walking a mile & a half back into Bexley I strolled in the other direction, entirely sure where I was off to, but following my A to Z. Heading to Dartford town centre, not for any reason other than it was a nice sunny spring afternoon, & it was now getting dark later. Why? I wasn't going there to see anything in particular, I just fancied the walk. Part of it along the edge of Dartford Heath, and in the town through Central Park. I 'splashed out' on a large bottle of Pepsi Max , which was on a special offer at only a pound at a little corner shop. When I drank 'proper' soft drinks I was always a Coca Cola man, but since being told I'm diabetic thre months ago, I'll drink either because the low/no sugar ones are as shit as each other!
So I was swigging & walking & strange as it may sound just enjoyed doing that. It wasn't particularly scenic, as 'scenic' what I like. My type of scenic is looking & observing. town centres, buildings, that sort of thing. Much of it was with a wood to my left, & a road to my right. walking by Dartford Heath was pleasant enough, lots of yellow flowers, but roughly wild scrubland, not exactly picture postcard, but still countryfied to me, as a London boy. It was warm, but not baking. And while walking through the Heath I got thinking about how I'd love to strip off & sunbathe-which I never! Naturism is something I've never done, but would actually like to one day somewhere, just to feel the 'freedom' of fresh air on my body. I certainly wouldn't do it in the summer when it was hot as I get sunburnt easily & burn bright red & peel. I wouldn't wish that on my dick! ;-)
I also passed a small football club, Fleetdown United, from the Kent County League, unfortunately the gates were locked, so I couldn't nose in & take some snaps. But at least I know where the ground is now. I've seen a couple of matches in this league recently. At Lewisham Borough & Crockenhill. A very low standard, but pleasantly enjoyable, if you take into account they're keen but not very talented. Plus it's very cheap! Couple of quid at most if they do a programme.
Which helps, as I've really got to save money over the next three months, as I've got three trips planned, & I need every spare penny so I can actually live on them! Today was cheap, and I kept myself lazily busy, So I can't complain. The 'hard bit' starts tomorrow, as it's payday, & money will be in my pocket again. The easiest thing to do is to 'save' money by not spending any when you've none in your pocket. The difficult part is not to spend it when you have it! I really think I will be disciplined enough to do this, as I have no choice if I want to survive on my little break, & f I can get into the habit of spending less money then I can save some more, both for other trips and to pay off more debts.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Take it down!
Walking down the road I passed a couple of shops that still had one of those 'Happy Easter' posters in the window. You know the ones, they have the days of the break, & you can write in your opening hours over the holiday.
Good Friday. Easter Sunday. Easter Bank Holiday Monday. Fair enough. I can cope with all that. But can anyone tell me what the fuck is 'Holy Saturday'? Just because it's slap bang between the day where Jesus was killed and he did his comeback piece, does not make it a 'Holy' Saturday! Not from where I'm sitting! What a load of old nonsense!
But that wasn't actually what I was going to moan about. That was more my 'supplimentary' gripe. Today is Thursday. Easter was over three days ago. Yet the posters are still up in the window. Which to me is slapdash, lazy, incompetent even. One of theshops was a bakery. And when I see out of date posters in their window that implies to me that they don't really care about much at all. If they can't be bothered to take down aan old poster I start wondering what they can't be arsed to do in their kitchens. Why clean today what you can do tomorrow?
An out of date poster makes me a not very happy Easter bunny. If they can't be arsed to take down an out of date mock goodwill message from their shopfront then I have'nt got much faith in them to sell me fresh goods from a clean kitchen. It's enough to make me stop shopping there. Ot itv would be if ever I was one of their customers in the first place.
But I've never been one for supporting small shops anyway. I'm more than happy to continue to trawl the 'grredy' supermarkets where I can get cheaper stuff at a price that matches the meagre loose change in my not very full pocket. Doesn't stop those posters annoying me though!
Good Friday. Easter Sunday. Easter Bank Holiday Monday. Fair enough. I can cope with all that. But can anyone tell me what the fuck is 'Holy Saturday'? Just because it's slap bang between the day where Jesus was killed and he did his comeback piece, does not make it a 'Holy' Saturday! Not from where I'm sitting! What a load of old nonsense!
But that wasn't actually what I was going to moan about. That was more my 'supplimentary' gripe. Today is Thursday. Easter was over three days ago. Yet the posters are still up in the window. Which to me is slapdash, lazy, incompetent even. One of theshops was a bakery. And when I see out of date posters in their window that implies to me that they don't really care about much at all. If they can't be bothered to take down aan old poster I start wondering what they can't be arsed to do in their kitchens. Why clean today what you can do tomorrow?
An out of date poster makes me a not very happy Easter bunny. If they can't be arsed to take down an out of date mock goodwill message from their shopfront then I have'nt got much faith in them to sell me fresh goods from a clean kitchen. It's enough to make me stop shopping there. Ot itv would be if ever I was one of their customers in the first place.
But I've never been one for supporting small shops anyway. I'm more than happy to continue to trawl the 'grredy' supermarkets where I can get cheaper stuff at a price that matches the meagre loose change in my not very full pocket. Doesn't stop those posters annoying me though!
Saturday, 11 April 2009
I actually ended up enjoying being somewhere I didn't want to be!
Yesterday I went to a wedding!!!
Why the exclamation marks? I know I overuse them in my puntuation generally, but the reason I put some there was because it's so rare I go to one, & I've not been to any at all in my almost seven years of sobriety. So the appeal of a free bar didn't hold much appeal. Truth is I didn't much fancy it at all...
A few weeks ago my 'mate' Cookie gave me a bell & asked if I wanted to pop down to Rochester because his mum was getting married. I've met her a couple of times before & she's a nice lady. But I certainly couldn't say I really know her, or the family.
It was strange, because on the one hand Cookie invited me, but on the other hand I still wasn't sure if I wanted to be in his company for such a personal event. Hard to explain without going over a lot of previous, but I'll give it a go,while trying to be brief at the same time. ...
We've known each other for over a dozen years or more, we got to know each other through football, when he started popping down the Hamlet when he was about sixteen or so. I got to know him quite well, and I'd always support him & back him up when I could, as friends do. In September 2007 he even treated me to a long wekeend in Berlin, which I couldn't afford.
But I also had a habit of taking the piss out of him ,as he did of me. And I posted something on his blog which he took umbrage at. And then it got personal. He attacked me on his, so I responded. He then said some really nasty stuff on his, real hurtful vitriolic stuff. Not just personal but totally evil. I could really have got personal & played 'tit for tat' & verbally stuck the knife into him from the past when we were a lot closer, but chose not to. I didn't need to sink to that nasty level. And the friendship was over.
I was saddened, but not totally upset. For the simple reason was I felt I that I hadn't done too much wrong & my conscience was clear. As far as I was concerned it wasn't me who had problems but him.
Out of the blue, just under six months ago, I got texts from him apologising. I knew he'd been back in prison, what for I've never asked. To be perfectly honest I didn't know what to think. I wasn't sure if I wanted to resume a friendship after what he'd said. I didn't need all this shit, and I like to think I'm loyal to my friends & always will be while they're my friends. That is what friendship is all about. But once that friendship is broken it's over. A bond is gone that can never be joined again. But bridges can be rebuilt, & I am glad he got back in touch, as despite everything, I did miss his friendship & he will always mean a lot to me, no matter what.
I thought long and hard as to whether to speak to him & meet up with him now and again. And I really do mean long and hard. And you know what? I'm glad I did. I don't have many friends, and neither does he. It might be partly selfish on my part, but I still care about him a lot.
He's still the fool, and talks a lot of nonsense, & don't get me started on his religious mumbo jumbo & some of the other company he keeps! Well ok, now I've mentioned it...he's converting to judaism, which is his choice, but.. and this is a BIG BUT.. one of his other mates is Jerry, a nazi white supremacist, who has been to the Fatherland that is Germany to attend right wing festivals! A Jew whose best mate is a Holocaust denier! You couldn't make it up! Someone please knock some sense into him because I can't!
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the wedding!
I wore a shirt, which was smart for me, though I didn't go 'suited and booted'. A bit difficult as I don't possess a whistle. But I was assured it would be ok by him. Just as well, because he wasn't wearing one either! As you can see from this snap, as he 'blended in' with everyone else in the front row!-
But, to be fair, it was a smart top he's got on.
He met me at Rochester station, and we popped into Baggins,
And had a quick wander round the Guildhall. ,which includes some of the maritime history on the Medway towns.
Too much information for Cookie, his brain was starting to go into overdrive, so he needed a liedown...
And so, after all that culture, we went to the bar where the ceremony was. A smart bar on the High Street. With the actual ceremony in the basement downstairs, which was an crypt type place, and well smart with old brickwork. There were about fifty people there, and he didn't know many himself! Some relatives he knew, but he hadn't seen them for a while. And his sister was up from London, with a few of her posh 'freeloading' university friends.
We were there about an hour before the nuptuals. And we were in a small bar area, just for the wedding party. Free champagne, or orange juice. Here he is with a glass of champers.
What was funny was he was moaning that his mum had been moaning at him for weeks not to get drunk, and after the serious business was over she was still nagging him, with me assuring her I'd kep an eye on him! He was actually sober when he stepped back & knocked over a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on a stand, sending ice, water, & the champers across the carpet! Which was hilarious! And he had no shame in claiming the dregs that remained in the bottle as a top up! Which might sound a bit 'pikey', but it's also got a touch of class in my book!
I'd never been to a civil wedding before, and it was quite short and sweet. Also quite amusing, as his mum was clearly very nervous, but she got through it! I sat near the back, as I was only a minor guest, on my own & it was surprisingly emotional. I wasn't so much moved by the event, as realising what I would miss out on. Not the 'wedding' thing. But a 'civil ceremony'. Although I'm a lot more comfortable with being gay than I was, I can't see myself ever finding a partner. I'm not particularly attractive & my teeth are a complete mess, missing & smashed & crooked. I don't have any social skills, and wouldn't know where, or how, to start looking for a boyfriend. I'm totally resigned to never being in a relationship & will only have pick ups fom the internet or sex in toilets. I felt happy for them but also sad for me, and I had to be quite strong to hold back some tears.
After the deed was done, and the marriage register signed,it was back upstairs for the real drinking to commence, with a free bar for the night! Fucking great! Where the bloody hell were they when I was still drinking? Which probably answers itself. Nobody in their right mind would have asked me to such occasions . One time I was it was for the wedding of one of my old friends Runner, who is a Millwall fan, who I knew a an old drinking partner from the Hamlet. I thought it was a great evening, the beer was flowing, I'd caned as much wine as possible during the meal, just because you could, even though I wasn't a wine drinker, & that was it really. Except the next day my brother tried to say I was a bit out of order having a go at the Italian woman, and making her cry. Truth is I haven't a clue what I said, & still don't to this day. And don't have a clue who she was, except she was someone's partner at the bash. That's an alcoholic for you. I am ashamed, but I don't regret, because you can't look back as that will screw you up. The only sorrow I have is that I don't know who she is to make amends.
There was a break before the dancing and celebratory drinking kicked in. The cellar had been relaid out, into two long tables for the meal, which was a sit down buffet, hot food; with the family table at the top. Now for me I prefer a good old fashioned 'working class' buffet. Triangular sandwiches, cheese & pineapple on a stick, bowl of jellied eels, chicken drumsticks, dips, assorted party 'crap' from Iceland...you know the spread! But this was nice. And no chips or even potatoes in site! Pasta, vegetables (which I ignored!), a noodle dish, with crunchy sort of vegetable crap in it (which dare I say it but I don't know what on earth that shit was but it tasted ok!), satay chicken, and slices of roast beef & lamb. Presumably no pork at the insistence of the new-jew Cookie! And there was enough to go up for a second plateful if you wished, which naturally I did. As I say, I'm more at home with a 'council estate platter', but that's for me to say. NOT the posh lot sat by me from the university. They actually expressed genuine surprise that it was acceptable tucker. Muttering, but not too loudly in case anyone heard them, they expected pinapple & cheese on a stick, & lots of sausage rolls. I really had to bite my tongue & count to ten to keep my mouth shut & not create a scene. fucking poncy stuck up toffee nosed twats! But it was good grub, I'd have been happy with sausage rolls, unlike them, but this was actually posh for me! I don't know if they were expecting a delivery from Iceland, or what!
The speeches came next, and they were short and sweet. It was strange because Cabbie, the groom, had his brother in law as the best man, and he'd hardly met Cookie's mum. But he seemed alright. His missus also said a few words at the end, and it really struck a chord with me. She mentioned she saw the true happiness in Cabbie's smile, when she first met them together. And that was just like christmas 2007, when my brother Mook, who had been married for over twenty years had split, and then met his now fiancee Mountie. She came over for the first time that christmas, & we (myself & sisters) all met her for the first time then. A few days after she went home he asked me what I thought, and he was dead nervous about it, which was unusual for him. I had to think carefully about my reply. I had to say I'd honestly never seen him so happy in his entire life! So I could see where the woman at the top table was coming from today.
Even in the midst of middle age people can find happiness, which will be for the beginning of the rest of their lives. I don't think I will ever experience this, but for a brief moment it would be wonderful to imagine, but I shut that out quickly as it's too depressing to contemplate reality.
Before the wedding yesterday I was actually dreading the whole afternoon.Sitting in the small bar, sipping orange juice, not knowing anyone apart from Cookie. Wondering how on earth I'd try to stretch conversation out, as everyone else got progressively drunk around me. I was desperately trying to work out how soon I could sneak out, without appearing rude. With between six or seven my target-at the latest!
But it didn't quite work like that. It actually turned out a pleasant evening! This is how 'normal' people have a good time! Despite almost seven years sobriety I still can't get over how 'slowly' ordinary people drink. And with a 'free bar' too! But then I suppose that's simply another symptom of alcoholism that never goes away. Not being able to consider drink rationally.
After downstairs was set for the evening the happy couple cut the cake.
This was later cut up into small pieces, and put into napkins, for eveyone to take a piece home, which is traditional. Which I did, but maybe one ot two extra 'slipped' into my pockets, and I ended up with a greedy, 'pikey' six pieces! And it was all delicious! Sometimes you can ignore watching your sugar intake with diabetes 2! (I hope) Well I'm not dead, and it was a rare treat!
Then they had the 'first dance'
When that was done it was time to 'disappear'. Not sneak off early as planned, I had surprised myself by enjoying myself, but to avoid getting roped into dancing! I simply can't dance. Never have done & don't know how to! Through my teenage years I avoided the 'teenybop' discos, because all my mates tried to cop off with girls & I didn't fancy them, so didn't like them things. Scared in case my mates got me to talk about & to girls, when I fancied the boys. Then, as I got older, I simply 'fell in love' with drink, instead of going to gay clubs, and besides I can't dance anyway! Excuses, excuses maybe? But another reason I'll always be lonely without a partner...
There was a smoking area outside, not that I smoke. But it was somewhere to 'escape' from the dancing downstairs, to just chill out and chat, it was actually nice to see Cookie talk to some old relatives, and start to relax. He insisted I take a few photos of him with them for for his American friends. I'm not sure if he wanted me to include them all on here, but what the heck!
This one is with his mum & sister.
Here he is with his 'new dad'!
This is a snap with two of his uncles. The one on the left had a jokey syrup with him...
Which Cookie took a shine to! ;-)
There was also a yard behind the bar, below the smoking balcony, which was closed off. In the middle was alone palm tree. no tables, chairs, nothing! Presumably at the beginning of a 'makeover' for the coming summer months. There were wires coming out of the paving stones, I would guess for those great patio heater stands. They are great to stand under at dusk. If ever I had a proper life, and a garden and money, I'd get one for outside! for some reason Cookie wanted his photo taken with it.
I don't know what a 'Freudian' type would have made of this. A lone tree, surrounded by emptiness & Cookie. How would you interpret his life from that? I'm not going to answer my rhetorical question. Those in glass houses & all that...
Thankfully, from my point of view, his nazi mate, who he'd asked along didn't show. I somehow didn't thnk I'd want to be in his company, and would have told him so in no uncertain terms. Which would have been a shame on Cookie, as it might have taken a bit of the shine off of his day. But then he shouldn't be making excuses for cunts like that anyway!
One of his ex-work mates Security did show, and he was actually a decent bloke.
To be honest they did talk '(ex)shop' a bit too much for my liking. But then, if it wasn't for his recent spell in prison Cookie would still be happily employed in that field, rather than currently on the rock & roll. And they didn't rabbit on about work in a boring way, so I didn't mind really.
There was another bloke we chatted to & what a prat he was! Cookie mentioned that he was looking into maybe moving abroad to make a new start, & that set White-Van off! He moaned about all the foreigners, & illegals, caliming all the benefits & sponging off the state, when your Englishmen couldn't get anything. He ranted about Albanians & Kosovans who smoked, drove cars, and all had big screen plasma televisions on their walls! not to mention taking our jobs while signing on. And how did he know this? He owned properties which he rented out to loads of them, & saw their flash lifestyles when he went round to collect their rent! Oh the irony! Just a pity I didn't have the facts to hand! What a tosser!
I dread to think how much I had to drink. I was overdosed on J2O! The funny thing was that whenever I went to the bar and asked for a Becks, vodka, & a J2O the barmaids asked what flavour J2O I wanted. They couldn't quite grasp the fact I couldn't care less and just said that any of them would do!
Beer must make you want to piss more, as it was quite a while before I had a slash. So I thought Cookie had been joking when he said that he had pissed into the sinks, rather than the urinals, before he realised his mistake, as they looked the same!
But you know what..he had a point!
All too soon it was gone half past ten at night, and I had to bid my goodbyes, and say my thank yous,Cookie struggled to get through the cellar bar wothout getting grabbed for a boogie!
He managed to 'escape' their clutches by insisting he had to walk me up to the station, which they fell for!
And as we were strolling up Rochester High Street 'Star Wars' fan Cookie bumped into a Stormtrooper! I kid you not! He wanted his photo taken, but bottled it, I knew he'd regret it & made him ask to pose for a snap!
And on that bizarre note I bade my farewells, ending up on the 23.05 train back to London!
Stuffing my face on bits of wedding cake, happy to know that an old friendship was getting cemented again, though after he reads all this I'm not so sure! ;-)
Why the exclamation marks? I know I overuse them in my puntuation generally, but the reason I put some there was because it's so rare I go to one, & I've not been to any at all in my almost seven years of sobriety. So the appeal of a free bar didn't hold much appeal. Truth is I didn't much fancy it at all...
A few weeks ago my 'mate' Cookie gave me a bell & asked if I wanted to pop down to Rochester because his mum was getting married. I've met her a couple of times before & she's a nice lady. But I certainly couldn't say I really know her, or the family.
It was strange, because on the one hand Cookie invited me, but on the other hand I still wasn't sure if I wanted to be in his company for such a personal event. Hard to explain without going over a lot of previous, but I'll give it a go,while trying to be brief at the same time. ...
We've known each other for over a dozen years or more, we got to know each other through football, when he started popping down the Hamlet when he was about sixteen or so. I got to know him quite well, and I'd always support him & back him up when I could, as friends do. In September 2007 he even treated me to a long wekeend in Berlin, which I couldn't afford.
But I also had a habit of taking the piss out of him ,as he did of me. And I posted something on his blog which he took umbrage at. And then it got personal. He attacked me on his, so I responded. He then said some really nasty stuff on his, real hurtful vitriolic stuff. Not just personal but totally evil. I could really have got personal & played 'tit for tat' & verbally stuck the knife into him from the past when we were a lot closer, but chose not to. I didn't need to sink to that nasty level. And the friendship was over.
I was saddened, but not totally upset. For the simple reason was I felt I that I hadn't done too much wrong & my conscience was clear. As far as I was concerned it wasn't me who had problems but him.
Out of the blue, just under six months ago, I got texts from him apologising. I knew he'd been back in prison, what for I've never asked. To be perfectly honest I didn't know what to think. I wasn't sure if I wanted to resume a friendship after what he'd said. I didn't need all this shit, and I like to think I'm loyal to my friends & always will be while they're my friends. That is what friendship is all about. But once that friendship is broken it's over. A bond is gone that can never be joined again. But bridges can be rebuilt, & I am glad he got back in touch, as despite everything, I did miss his friendship & he will always mean a lot to me, no matter what.
I thought long and hard as to whether to speak to him & meet up with him now and again. And I really do mean long and hard. And you know what? I'm glad I did. I don't have many friends, and neither does he. It might be partly selfish on my part, but I still care about him a lot.
He's still the fool, and talks a lot of nonsense, & don't get me started on his religious mumbo jumbo & some of the other company he keeps! Well ok, now I've mentioned it...he's converting to judaism, which is his choice, but.. and this is a BIG BUT.. one of his other mates is Jerry, a nazi white supremacist, who has been to the Fatherland that is Germany to attend right wing festivals! A Jew whose best mate is a Holocaust denier! You couldn't make it up! Someone please knock some sense into him because I can't!
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the wedding!
I wore a shirt, which was smart for me, though I didn't go 'suited and booted'. A bit difficult as I don't possess a whistle. But I was assured it would be ok by him. Just as well, because he wasn't wearing one either! As you can see from this snap, as he 'blended in' with everyone else in the front row!-
But, to be fair, it was a smart top he's got on.
He met me at Rochester station, and we popped into Baggins,
And had a quick wander round the Guildhall. ,which includes some of the maritime history on the Medway towns.
Too much information for Cookie, his brain was starting to go into overdrive, so he needed a liedown...
And so, after all that culture, we went to the bar where the ceremony was. A smart bar on the High Street. With the actual ceremony in the basement downstairs, which was an crypt type place, and well smart with old brickwork. There were about fifty people there, and he didn't know many himself! Some relatives he knew, but he hadn't seen them for a while. And his sister was up from London, with a few of her posh 'freeloading' university friends.
We were there about an hour before the nuptuals. And we were in a small bar area, just for the wedding party. Free champagne, or orange juice. Here he is with a glass of champers.
What was funny was he was moaning that his mum had been moaning at him for weeks not to get drunk, and after the serious business was over she was still nagging him, with me assuring her I'd kep an eye on him! He was actually sober when he stepped back & knocked over a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on a stand, sending ice, water, & the champers across the carpet! Which was hilarious! And he had no shame in claiming the dregs that remained in the bottle as a top up! Which might sound a bit 'pikey', but it's also got a touch of class in my book!
I'd never been to a civil wedding before, and it was quite short and sweet. Also quite amusing, as his mum was clearly very nervous, but she got through it! I sat near the back, as I was only a minor guest, on my own & it was surprisingly emotional. I wasn't so much moved by the event, as realising what I would miss out on. Not the 'wedding' thing. But a 'civil ceremony'. Although I'm a lot more comfortable with being gay than I was, I can't see myself ever finding a partner. I'm not particularly attractive & my teeth are a complete mess, missing & smashed & crooked. I don't have any social skills, and wouldn't know where, or how, to start looking for a boyfriend. I'm totally resigned to never being in a relationship & will only have pick ups fom the internet or sex in toilets. I felt happy for them but also sad for me, and I had to be quite strong to hold back some tears.
After the deed was done, and the marriage register signed,it was back upstairs for the real drinking to commence, with a free bar for the night! Fucking great! Where the bloody hell were they when I was still drinking? Which probably answers itself. Nobody in their right mind would have asked me to such occasions . One time I was it was for the wedding of one of my old friends Runner, who is a Millwall fan, who I knew a an old drinking partner from the Hamlet. I thought it was a great evening, the beer was flowing, I'd caned as much wine as possible during the meal, just because you could, even though I wasn't a wine drinker, & that was it really. Except the next day my brother tried to say I was a bit out of order having a go at the Italian woman, and making her cry. Truth is I haven't a clue what I said, & still don't to this day. And don't have a clue who she was, except she was someone's partner at the bash. That's an alcoholic for you. I am ashamed, but I don't regret, because you can't look back as that will screw you up. The only sorrow I have is that I don't know who she is to make amends.
There was a break before the dancing and celebratory drinking kicked in. The cellar had been relaid out, into two long tables for the meal, which was a sit down buffet, hot food; with the family table at the top. Now for me I prefer a good old fashioned 'working class' buffet. Triangular sandwiches, cheese & pineapple on a stick, bowl of jellied eels, chicken drumsticks, dips, assorted party 'crap' from Iceland...you know the spread! But this was nice. And no chips or even potatoes in site! Pasta, vegetables (which I ignored!), a noodle dish, with crunchy sort of vegetable crap in it (which dare I say it but I don't know what on earth that shit was but it tasted ok!), satay chicken, and slices of roast beef & lamb. Presumably no pork at the insistence of the new-jew Cookie! And there was enough to go up for a second plateful if you wished, which naturally I did. As I say, I'm more at home with a 'council estate platter', but that's for me to say. NOT the posh lot sat by me from the university. They actually expressed genuine surprise that it was acceptable tucker. Muttering, but not too loudly in case anyone heard them, they expected pinapple & cheese on a stick, & lots of sausage rolls. I really had to bite my tongue & count to ten to keep my mouth shut & not create a scene. fucking poncy stuck up toffee nosed twats! But it was good grub, I'd have been happy with sausage rolls, unlike them, but this was actually posh for me! I don't know if they were expecting a delivery from Iceland, or what!
The speeches came next, and they were short and sweet. It was strange because Cabbie, the groom, had his brother in law as the best man, and he'd hardly met Cookie's mum. But he seemed alright. His missus also said a few words at the end, and it really struck a chord with me. She mentioned she saw the true happiness in Cabbie's smile, when she first met them together. And that was just like christmas 2007, when my brother Mook, who had been married for over twenty years had split, and then met his now fiancee Mountie. She came over for the first time that christmas, & we (myself & sisters) all met her for the first time then. A few days after she went home he asked me what I thought, and he was dead nervous about it, which was unusual for him. I had to think carefully about my reply. I had to say I'd honestly never seen him so happy in his entire life! So I could see where the woman at the top table was coming from today.
Even in the midst of middle age people can find happiness, which will be for the beginning of the rest of their lives. I don't think I will ever experience this, but for a brief moment it would be wonderful to imagine, but I shut that out quickly as it's too depressing to contemplate reality.
Before the wedding yesterday I was actually dreading the whole afternoon.Sitting in the small bar, sipping orange juice, not knowing anyone apart from Cookie. Wondering how on earth I'd try to stretch conversation out, as everyone else got progressively drunk around me. I was desperately trying to work out how soon I could sneak out, without appearing rude. With between six or seven my target-at the latest!
But it didn't quite work like that. It actually turned out a pleasant evening! This is how 'normal' people have a good time! Despite almost seven years sobriety I still can't get over how 'slowly' ordinary people drink. And with a 'free bar' too! But then I suppose that's simply another symptom of alcoholism that never goes away. Not being able to consider drink rationally.
After downstairs was set for the evening the happy couple cut the cake.
This was later cut up into small pieces, and put into napkins, for eveyone to take a piece home, which is traditional. Which I did, but maybe one ot two extra 'slipped' into my pockets, and I ended up with a greedy, 'pikey' six pieces! And it was all delicious! Sometimes you can ignore watching your sugar intake with diabetes 2! (I hope) Well I'm not dead, and it was a rare treat!
Then they had the 'first dance'
When that was done it was time to 'disappear'. Not sneak off early as planned, I had surprised myself by enjoying myself, but to avoid getting roped into dancing! I simply can't dance. Never have done & don't know how to! Through my teenage years I avoided the 'teenybop' discos, because all my mates tried to cop off with girls & I didn't fancy them, so didn't like them things. Scared in case my mates got me to talk about & to girls, when I fancied the boys. Then, as I got older, I simply 'fell in love' with drink, instead of going to gay clubs, and besides I can't dance anyway! Excuses, excuses maybe? But another reason I'll always be lonely without a partner...
There was a smoking area outside, not that I smoke. But it was somewhere to 'escape' from the dancing downstairs, to just chill out and chat, it was actually nice to see Cookie talk to some old relatives, and start to relax. He insisted I take a few photos of him with them for for his American friends. I'm not sure if he wanted me to include them all on here, but what the heck!
This one is with his mum & sister.
Here he is with his 'new dad'!
This is a snap with two of his uncles. The one on the left had a jokey syrup with him...
Which Cookie took a shine to! ;-)
There was also a yard behind the bar, below the smoking balcony, which was closed off. In the middle was alone palm tree. no tables, chairs, nothing! Presumably at the beginning of a 'makeover' for the coming summer months. There were wires coming out of the paving stones, I would guess for those great patio heater stands. They are great to stand under at dusk. If ever I had a proper life, and a garden and money, I'd get one for outside! for some reason Cookie wanted his photo taken with it.
I don't know what a 'Freudian' type would have made of this. A lone tree, surrounded by emptiness & Cookie. How would you interpret his life from that? I'm not going to answer my rhetorical question. Those in glass houses & all that...
Thankfully, from my point of view, his nazi mate, who he'd asked along didn't show. I somehow didn't thnk I'd want to be in his company, and would have told him so in no uncertain terms. Which would have been a shame on Cookie, as it might have taken a bit of the shine off of his day. But then he shouldn't be making excuses for cunts like that anyway!
One of his ex-work mates Security did show, and he was actually a decent bloke.
To be honest they did talk '(ex)shop' a bit too much for my liking. But then, if it wasn't for his recent spell in prison Cookie would still be happily employed in that field, rather than currently on the rock & roll. And they didn't rabbit on about work in a boring way, so I didn't mind really.
There was another bloke we chatted to & what a prat he was! Cookie mentioned that he was looking into maybe moving abroad to make a new start, & that set White-Van off! He moaned about all the foreigners, & illegals, caliming all the benefits & sponging off the state, when your Englishmen couldn't get anything. He ranted about Albanians & Kosovans who smoked, drove cars, and all had big screen plasma televisions on their walls! not to mention taking our jobs while signing on. And how did he know this? He owned properties which he rented out to loads of them, & saw their flash lifestyles when he went round to collect their rent! Oh the irony! Just a pity I didn't have the facts to hand! What a tosser!
I dread to think how much I had to drink. I was overdosed on J2O! The funny thing was that whenever I went to the bar and asked for a Becks, vodka, & a J2O the barmaids asked what flavour J2O I wanted. They couldn't quite grasp the fact I couldn't care less and just said that any of them would do!
Beer must make you want to piss more, as it was quite a while before I had a slash. So I thought Cookie had been joking when he said that he had pissed into the sinks, rather than the urinals, before he realised his mistake, as they looked the same!
But you know what..he had a point!
All too soon it was gone half past ten at night, and I had to bid my goodbyes, and say my thank yous,Cookie struggled to get through the cellar bar wothout getting grabbed for a boogie!
He managed to 'escape' their clutches by insisting he had to walk me up to the station, which they fell for!
And as we were strolling up Rochester High Street 'Star Wars' fan Cookie bumped into a Stormtrooper! I kid you not! He wanted his photo taken, but bottled it, I knew he'd regret it & made him ask to pose for a snap!
And on that bizarre note I bade my farewells, ending up on the 23.05 train back to London!
Stuffing my face on bits of wedding cake, happy to know that an old friendship was getting cemented again, though after he reads all this I'm not so sure! ;-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)