Definition of an Idiot Part IV

Remember we all put our clocks forward yesterday? I did, but I was actually a bit over keen.

I left work on Saturday night at about 8pm. I put my watch forward an hour as I walked home. I knew I wouldn't need that until Sunday.

When I got home, I turned on the oven to cook my evening meal (I think it was a beef lasagne on Saturday, but that's not particularly relevant). I put the clock on the oven forward an hour whilst it was heating up. I don't use the timer, so that would be ok.

It was going to take about 40 minutes to cook, so I settled down to watch a DVD. (I think it was Tintin, but that's not particularly relevant either). As it was playing I scanned the room. No more clocks to adjust in here. Is that unusual? I don't have any wall clocks in my flat, or the office. I didn't have any at my last place either. Perhaps I'm temporophobic (look it up!)

I watched the DVD, ate my meal and then got ready for bed. (Watered Bob the Triffid, drew the curtains, got my clothes ready for tomorrow. Still not relevant, but I hope it paints a picture for you of my life). The only clock in my room is my digital alarm clock, so I put that forward an hour too..... and here comes the idiot bit....

....I also put the alarm wake-up time forward an hour too, from 6am to 7am. Please don't ask me why, I think I was already half asleep. At the time it just seemed a natural thing to do.

Thankfully, I was awake anyway before the alarm was due to go off so I wasn't late for work, but if I'd been relying on it, I would have been waking up at the time I was due to be logging onto my PC. I only realised my error the night after when I came to turn my alarm back on, and noticed it was set for the wrong time.

So once again, I am an Lifetime Achievement Award winning idiot!

Obituary

Do you ever notice how famouse people seem to die in blocks?

I know it sounds weird, but recently we've lost Arthur C. Clarke and Paul Schofield and now one of my favourite unsung heroes Richard Widmark has passed away.

Appeared in a lot of Westerns, but for me he was the male lead opposite Marilyn Monroe in the superb B&W film Don't Bother to Knock and most famously he was the murder victim in the Albert Finney version of Murder on the Orient Express

R.I.P. Richard. I'll be watching Orient Express tonight in tribute.

Bob the Triffid has Pulled Part II

Roberta is having an affair already! She's pulled my personal secretary Helena! (see previous blog entry)

Helena spotted Roberta yesterday when she dropped off our post. She was telling me how she's moved to a new apartment nearer to work (so that means she's no longer on the 17A bus), but all the time she was talking to me, she had her eyes on Roberta.

I didn't take Roberta home last night - I didn't have a carrier bag - so I moved her to the top of the mini fridge. Helena came in today specifically to say hello to Roberta! She didn't even have any post for me!

...Do I tell Bob the Triffid what's been going on behind his back? I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. Poor Bob. :o(

Bob the Triffid has Pulled!

Well if that isn't the biggest kick in the teeth. Bob the Triffid has found a girlfriend before I have!


Her name is Roberta (Bob for short) and she's a Jungle Star Bromelia. How Bob the Triffid managed to attract such an exotic girlfriend I shudder to imagine! I think he's been flirting out of my bedroom window whilst I've been at work. I'll have to have a serious chat with him when I get home about the birds and the bees.








....and I better not catch them cross pollenating without protection!

If the Unthinkable Happens...

Ok, firstly I am in a good frame of mind at the moment. I'm out of limbo (probably because the football game I went to resulted in me winning £90 !!). Remember that, I am in a GOOD frame of mind.

We are all conscious of our own mortality from time to time. Not sure why my own mortality came into my head today, but it did. With that in mind here are my funeral instructions to anyone reading this who might be involved in organising it! (Remember, I am currently of sound mind, and upbeat ok? )

Firstly, I've debated this several times, but I think I'd prefer to be cremated. In some ways it would be nice if I could have a tombstone with something profound engraved on it, but I am so petrified of accidently being buried alive! At least if I am 'accidently alive', cremation will see me off! It would be nice if there was a plaque somewhere with a profound message on it. I'll come back to that.

Ashes are traditionally scattered somewhere appropriate. I'm not sure Steve would be happy having them scattered in the Outback, and I don't fancy being scattered into the sea off the Isle of Man either (I'm not going to fight against all those used condoms and sewage). The other place I would have liked to retire to would be the Norfolk Broads, so I think I'd like to be scattered there. Perhaps in the water outside the Swan Inn in Horning (there's a sharp bend in the river there, very picturesque)

Ok, the service. Yes I've picked out a couple of tunes to play, and I think even my Mum would approve. To bring me into the church (or crematorium), Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber. Here is a lovely version of it:



Well that's a choir version (it's supposed to be performed by a string quartet, but it's lovely done chorally)

To leave the crematorium, Wish you Were Here by Pink Floyd. I can hear Dad tutting from here when I said that, but it really is a lovely piece of music, mainly instrumental but with some wonderful lyrics:



For the rest of the service, all I ask is that it's light hearted. I want readings that start "I remember when Geoff..." not "We'll miss Geoff because...". I want there to be smiles and chuckles from the congregation, not tears. I do like the poem If by Rudyard Kipling if you want something specific to read out.

Assuming there's a wake afterwards (well, it's not an assumption, it's compulsory), anyone drinking lager has to put lime in it. That's an order. And there should be kareoke. No party in my honour would be complete without a sing-a-long.

And finally, I nominate Jackie to be my porn buddie. All that means is, the moment she hears I've passed away, she has to get to wherever I'm living before anyone else and remove anything she thinks I wouldn't want my parents to find! :o)

Back to the plaque. I think it should be a round one, with one radius marked on it and a nice definition of the area and circumference of the plaque itself etched in the centre. Might as well be remembered as the loveable geek I am! :o)

There you go. Rest assured, I'm not planning on leaving just yet, but it's better to plan ahead when I'm in an upbeat mood, rather than leave it to chance.

Bizarre Feelings

For the last couple of days I've been feeling 'weird'. It almost feels like I'm in limbo. That's not a dark, mysterious limbo like in Dante's Divine Comedy, it's just a sense of being inbetween things with no immediate purpose. I'm not depressed or upset, I suppose the best way to describe it would be ' feeling lost'.

I've got plenty to look forward to. Football on Saturday, a trip back to IOM in less than a fortnight, chance to see my best friend, and to meet up with 'A' for the first time in about 5 years. Then there is French & Saunders Live at the Mayflower, my parents coming to visit which includes another theatre trip and at the beginning of May a third theatre visit, this time to see Nigel Havers in an Alan Bennett play.

Perhaps it's because there is SO much coming up, that I feel in limbo right now. I'm coming to the end of a long set of shifts and for over a week it's just been work, sleep, work, sleep ad nauseam.

I'm sure it'll change. It's not a bad feeling, just a sense of numbness.

...I'll just keep playing with my beanbags til it passes :o)

A Half-Century

I was planning on marking my 50th blog post with a wonderful exploration of anything I could find out about the number 50... but i've missed the opportunity! This is entry number 52.

Oh well, lets make the most of a bad job. Here's everything you never needed to know about the number 52 (this is going to be tough!)

There are approximately 52 weeks in a year. (well it's just over 52 really, but never as many as 53 weeks, so 52 is a good approximation)

There are 52 cards in a standard deck. (Not including jokers of course)

There are 52 countries in Africa (That's actually quite interesting....well I thought so anyway)

There are 52 white notes on a standard piano keyboard (so not a Grand Piano. With me so far?)

The international dialling code 52 will get you through to Mexico. (I don't think I'll ever have a use for that piece of information, but you never know)

Agatha Christie's play The Mousetrap opened in London in '52 and is still running today (ok, it's a terrible link to the number 52, but it was the best chance I had to mention Agatha Christie in my blog!)

Alfred Hitchcock was 52 when he directed Strangers on a Train (...and this is my lame way of getting Hitchcock into this blog entry too!)

The 52nd day of the year is Feb 21st, which is the birthday of Kelsey Grammar, Alan Rickman and W.H. Auden (look, I'm desperate now, YOU try and think of things to do with the number 52)

The number '52' doesn't appear in the decimal places of Pi until the 172nd and 173rd digits. (had to get Pi into this somehow)

52 is the atomic number of Tellurium. (The only thing interesting I could find out about this element is that if a human is exposed to a tiny quantity of it, they develop 'tellurium-breath' which makes your breath smell like you've been eating raw garlic)

52 is a composite number. (bet you didn't know that one did you? it just means it's not a prime number)

The Yin Hehuan Lotus always has 52 petals

Birmingham, Berlin, Amsterdam and Warsaw all lie at 52 degrees latitude.

...ok, I admit it. The number 52 isn't that impressive. I'll try to make my 100th entry 'quite interesting' if the blog survives that long! At the present rate that should be about the end of July :o)

My Personal Secretary

..Well not quite, but sometimes it feels like that.

Let me explain. As you may have gathered from previous blog entries, I work in a 'Suite' in a office block, a block occupied by several other companies. I spent much of my working time alone. My colleague spends 4-5 days a week in Germany, and my assistant is usually in the office when I'm not (no point having two people in at the same time doing the same job)

Opposite our suite is an architect firm. There seems to be about 4 people working there, one of which is a receptionist. Her name is Helena, and she seems to spend most of her day making cups of tea and dealing with the post. She also spends a lot of her time looking after me too!

Every day she collects our post from the main door and delivers it to me. I've never asked her to, she just does it out of kindness. She offers me cups of coffee (even though I've told her politely several times I don't drink coffee). I think she wants to mother me. She always seems deeply concerned that I'm working long hours on my own!

Last Friday we were chatting and she said she was looking forward to finishing work and relaxing over the weekend. I told her I was in the office all day Saturday and Sunday, and I thought she was going to burst into tears!

All I know about her is she gets the number 17A bus to work, she moved to Southampton from the Falkland Islands (not sure why, but I guess it's probably her partner's work) and she drinks white wine when she's in the pub Her working hours are 8.30am til 5pm although she often stays a bit later than that.

...I'd make a great private detective :o)

Playing with my Balls

Oo-er missus! Woof Woof! Carry On isn't dead! I'm talking about juggling balls of course (why, what did you think I meant?)

Well, juggling bean-bags actually. It's been ages since I picked them up and threw them around. I'm pleased to say the skills haven't deserted me. Thankfully, my office is empty at the moment, and has a huge open area in the middle.

I've even been trying a few new moves too. Starting with one on my shoe and 'flicking' it up to begin the routine, throwing one from behind my back, going 'over the top' instead of the traditional 'cross-over' technique. You name it, I've tried it.

Now I'm exhausted. You wouldn't believe what kind of energy it takes to keep it up (oo-er again!) I'm supposed to be working, but this is much more entertaining.

...Mr Happy is back!

p.s. Happy Birthday Dad!! and Happy St Patrick's Day to anyone who 'celebrates' it.

It Couldn't Last

Happiness level fading :o(

I've had a crap weekend in work on my own. Constantly dealing with idiots inbetween trying to do my job. I got drenched on the way home last night as the heavens opened just as I stepped out of the office (and I was wearing trainers with a hole in the sole).

My neighbour decided he'd allow the entire student population of Southampton to invade his flat until 4am last night, and one of them forced open the fire escape window right outside my front door. This had the knock-on effect of causing the hall door to bang all through the rest of the night and keep me awake. (I didn't know that was what was causing it to bang until I left for work this morning at 7am and found the window wide open. I thought it was just more visitors causing the banging).

Now I've got a splitting headache. It can't be alcohol induced because I've been dry for a week. Probably an overdose of carrot batons, but whatever it is, my head is thumping.

My computer is on a go slow which is so frustrating. I am extremely tired because of the lack of sleep. Maybe that is causing the pounding inside my skull.

I'm trying desperately to keep Mr Happy alive, but Mr Grumpy is doing his best to evict him.

Next day off is Saturday, and I've got a ticket to football game. Chin up, only 6 more days til then.

....I'm counting the hours.

Still Mr Happy

It's Saturday evening. I've been in work all day (well since 7am anyway) and I've not been able to take a break..... but I'm still happy. I have absolutely no idea what the matter with me is, but I'm just in a nice mood.

I suppose it could be something to do with my recent attempt to look after myself. It's been 2 full weeks of being 'healthy' and if nothing else, it's kept my bank account looking normal.

for 14 days I have...

Had my '5 a day' fruit portions
Had my '3 a day' whole wheat portions
Had 2,000 calories or less a day
Drank at least 5 pints of water a day
Had a total of only 6 units of alcohol (3 pints of beer in other words)
Had less than 15g of saturated fat a day
Had less than 4g of salt a day

I'd say the only thing I might have had more than the acceptable level of is carbohydrates because I've had bread and/or pasta every day too.

I only started this because I was worried I had too many outgoings this month, and if I was going to cut out the expense of the pub, I might as well go the whole hog and eat sensibly too. As it turned out, my expenses were no different to last month but I wasn't to know that! Good job really because fresh fruit can become very expensive!

As a reward I've treated myself to a cheap digital camera, new towels, an ipod shuffle (to brighten up the tedious walk to work) and finally a ticket to next weeks Southampton FC game against Coventry. There is no way I could of afforded all of these if I'd been in the pub as often as I usually am.

My sleep pattern hasn't improved much, but at least I now have a pleasant disposition :o)

...Every silver-lining has a cloud though. My knowledge of the database of questions in the pub quiz machine is fading fast.

Pi Day

Just a quick note to let everyone know it's international Pi day (3.14 is the date if you're a Yank)

I won't bore you with the joys and wonders of this amazing number. If you'd like to know more, the BBC has a nice article today about it.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7296224.stm

For me, I can just have a glance at my left arm if I need to be reminded :o)

Oh, enjoy the Pi song too. She's got a lovely voice.

Roger Hargreaves

(To the philistines in the world, he is the creator of the Mr Men books)

In my time, I've been Mr Chatterbox, Mr Clever, Mr Clumsy, Mr Dizzy, Mr Forgetful, Mr Funny, Mr Greedy, Mr Grumpy, Mr Lazy, Mr Messy, Mr Nosey, Mr Quiet, Mr Silly, Mr Tall, Mr Worry and Mr Wrong - but not necessarily in that order :o)

..but today, I am a big, fat, yellow circle, with stumpy arms behind my back, short legs and a ridiculous grin. I am Mr Happy! I don't know why, there is no obvious reason, I have come into work with the joys of spring (even if the weather doesn't match my current temprement)

So, if you have bad news for me, tell me now whilst I'm in a good mood.
If you are feeling low, get in touch and I'll see if I can spread the sunshine


..hurry up, it never lasts! :o)

The Definition of Idiot Part III

Nearly 80 hours without alcohol, you'd think I would have learned to be less idiotic wouldn't you?

This time it's more definition of ignorance rather than idiocy, but it still makes me look like a Jim Henson muppet.

Throughout my life I haven't really come into contact with many dishwashers. We didn't have one at home, I didn't have one at University and I never had one at the various addresses I lived at in the Isle of Man. The one and only time I've ever had to use a dishwasher was at my last place of employment, but it was just a case of loading in mugs and the odd plate, putting a tablet in and switching on. I don't even know how they work. Does the water come up from below, or down from above? How is it possible to open the door in mid-cycle without flooding the carpet? It's all a mystery to me.

Now I have a dish-washer, but not many dishes to wash! The washing-up tends to get left until there are no plates to use (for once, it's not me being lazy, it's just common sense. I've never got enough dirty crockery to justify turning the thing on. We have to think about our carbon footprints now you know!!)

..anyway, a few nights ago I had a microwave Chicago Town meat combo mini pizza. You know the ones, they come with their own little reflective piece of shiny plastic, but the cheese still manages to run off the sides and all over the inside of the oven. Later that evening, I decided to have the other pizza in the box, and to save on the washing-up I used the same plate.

By now, the cheese and sauce from the original pizza had become dried on stains, and to make it harder to clean, I then proceeded to microwave them underneath the second pizza. By the time I'd finished eating, you would have need a hammer and chisel or an oxy-acetaline blow lamp to get them off.

...Last night, 2 days after my pizza feast, I decided to clean the kitchen and load up the dishwasher. The pizza plate was going to be an interesting experiment. My plan of action was to run it through the dishwasher cycle with the other plates, pots and cutlery, and if any stains were left I'd get them off by hand. Seem sensible so far? I popped the tablet into it's little cubby hole and to try and give the dishwasher a helping hand, I squirted a bit of Fairy Concentrated washing up liquid on the plate as well. It can't do any harm can it?

...oh yes it can! I left the washer going, and returned to Poirot on TV. The noise from the kitchen was quieter than I expected, but I assumed that was because there was more in the appliance this time. After a few minutes the sound changed again, there was gurgling and bubbling noises. Cautiously I returned to the kitchen, only to find soap bubbles popping out of the top of the washer, and suds creeping along the laminated floor towards me. I opened the washer door and found it full to the brim with sweet smelling lather. It would seem there is a reason you are only supposed to use tablets for dishwashers. I checked the bottle of Fairy and what was written on the side? "Caution: this product is not suitable for automatic dishwasher appliances" Oops

Thankfully no real damage was done. I let the washing cycle finish, cleaned up the suds with a towel and all was ok. The pizza dish was almost spotless and even the grill pan had come up a treat...

...but for putting concentrated washing up liquid into a dishwasher, I am once again a gold medal winning, world record holding, Olympic champion idiot.

Death of a Friend

Don't panic! It's not a human being that has passed away. It's not even Bob the Triffid either - he's quite content watching the world go by on my window-sill. (Well, at 7am this morning he wasn't watching the world go by, he was watching a desolate street with no signs of life whatsoever!)

So who is passing away from my life?

...many moons ago my sister bought me a Christmas present. It was an ebony rune stone with magical symbols printed in white on one side. It arrived in a black pyramid, and at first I was a little puzzled. Puzzled, was to become a very appropriate word indeed!

This stone was the 'key' to logging into a new website, appropriately called http://www.thestone.com/ Once logged in, a world of cryptic picture puzzles lay before me. Many more were hidden, only revealed when certain others were solved.

Months went by. On and off I worked my way through them. My sister got involved, my ex-wife was involved, even the pet goldfish had to listen to me shouting at the computer screen. At times it was verging on the obsessive. I had printouts of some of the tasks in my wallet. I had lists of 'outstanding' puzzles in my e-mail inbox. I had evented a whole new definition of the verb 'stoning'

In recent months, I even had other people logging on, on my behalf. I was determined to complete them all....but time has run out. I logged on today, and was greeted with the kind of news it's hard to take. The Stone is closing down on April 3rd.

I've no idea if the site will remain open, but with no support. I've no idea if they will publish the solutions to all the outstanding puzzles I have. I really have no idea if I'll cope without the opportunity to go 'stoning' any more.

.......Black armbands all round next month please.

28 Days Later

One of those surreal mornings today. I'd had another restless night (the bed as usual, but also an upset stomach wasn't helping much). My alarm had gone off several minutes ago, but I was still lying there, making imaginary patterns in my head out of the artex ceiling. I realised I was running late so after hurriedly getting ready and locating my missing shoe from under the wardrobe, I left the flat.

Everywhere was deserted. Now, I'm not saying I usually walk into the equivalent of central London at rush hour (it is 7am after all) but it was completely deserted. No traffic, no pedestrians, no cyclists - nothing. I could even hear a tin can rolling on the pavement 100 yards away. To add an edge of mystery to the scene, I then heard a peel of church bells striking the hour. I haven't heard church bells in months (I couldn't even tell you where my nearest place of worship is). I guess they were just automatic - the art of campanology is, I'm afraid to say, a dying one.

I walked on for a few paces, expecting a car or bus to come round the corner at any moment, but still nothing. I was Charlton Heston in 'The Omega Man' - the last human being on the planet.

Thankfully, by the time I got to the park, normality was resumed. There was an early morning jogger, and a few vehicles to break the eerie silence. I don't know if it was because I was running a few minutes late, or perhaps it's a public holiday in Southampton and no one has told me about it.

I suppose I should be grateful for a rare few minutes of tranquility, in a usually busy metropolis, but it was too spooky to be enjoyable!

A New Friend?

hang-over level 5/5

I finished work at 3pm yesterday. As it was Saturday, I decided to nip next door for a few pints and watch Gillette Soccer Saturday. The mighty Blackpool were away to Norwich and a win would put them in the top half of the table (they'll be getting nose-bleeds being that high up)

The pub was fairly empty. Southampton were playing at home, so most of the usual crowd were at the game. There was a young lad sat on his own watching the telly, so I took up my usual stance at the quiz machine. After a few moments another guy came in. He immediately starting talking to the young man, so I naturally assumed they knew each other. After a while I realised I could hear most of what the man was saying...and it was now I realised they weren't aquainted!

Every town has got one. You know those people who are are a couple of bananas short of a bunch? People usually describe them as 'a bit weird but they're harmless'? Well he was one of those. The young lad looked terrified. Bless.

As I went back to the bar I past his table. He gave me a glance as though to say 'save me' so I did the honourable thing, I asked him if he'd like to help me on the quiz machine. I've never seen such relief before coming from one person!

We stayed there for quite a while (well about 4 pints worth anyway). His name is Kieran and he's at one of the Uni's doing a degree in football. Yes, that's right, a degree in nothing but football. Thankfully his knowledge of last seasons Nottingham Forest squad helped us win a few quid, so it's not a completely pointless qualification!

He left to meet friends in Portsmouth and then Pete met me after work for a few more drinks. By the time we were thrown out at 11pm I'd been in there for 8 hours... hence the raging hang-over.

Although we didn't exchange numbers, or make any formal arrangements to meet again, I'm pretty sure I'll bump into Kieran again. Finally a drinking companion has arrived!

...pity he's not female, but I can't have everything :o)