Sadly, this time is doesn't involve a semi-naked beautiful woman, but nevertheless it still helps to define me as a fully fledged idiot.
I'm not a bad cook. I never claim to be the next Gary Rhodes or Anthony Whorrel-Thompson but I can make a decent Sunday dinner, follow a receipe successfully and don't mind experimenting with herbs and spices. (Actually, at the moment I have hair like Gary and a waist-line like Anthony but it still doesn't make me cordon-bleu!) My cooking on Sunday night/Monday morning this week however makes me look like an idiot.
I'll stress now, it's actually nothing to do with the food itself. The meal came out beautifully and tasted devine (even if I do say so myself) It's the process of how the meal came together that I am about to tell you all.
Picture the scene. It's Sunday night. I've just returned from work and I decide to make a casserole in my slow cooker. The plan is to leave it cooking over night, turn the oven off in the morning and then I can warm it up when I come back from work on Monday evening. Simple. It was the most straightforward of meals - roughly chop some potatoes, carrots, leeks, red onions, peppers and mix in the pot. Put the pot in the slow cooker, add a thick vegetable stock and some diced pork. put on the lid, set to 'low' and leave for 8 hours. The whole process took less than 10 minutes to do. With me so far?
I woke up several times during the night, (as usual) and on one occasion went to check the casserole was ok. There it was, simmering away to itself, looking extremely tasty already. At 6am when my alarm went off, I went back to the kitchen to turn off the slow cooker. But what was this? The red light was already off....
...Now any sensible person would have assumed the cooker had broken, or the fuse in the plug or socket had blown. What did I assume? "Oh wow, my slow cooker has an automatic shut-off system. Isn't that clever" The fact that the instruction manual for the cooker was less than 6 inches from my left hand didn't matter, as far as I was concerned, the cooker turned itself off.
Despite my idiotic assumption, I did switch the cooker off at the plug and left the casserole whilst I went to work. 13 hours later I returned, and it was still there. (Well obviously. Where is a large casserole going to go on it's own?)
I plugged the cooker back in, and turned the dial to 'warm'. Nothing. No red light, no gentle humming noise, zilch.
Ok, NOW I assume a fuse has gone in the plug or socket. (it's only taken me half a day to realise that) Firstly I tried plugging the cooker into the socket next to the first one. Still no red light. (The 'idiot' is beginning to surface. If the fuse has gone in either the socket or plug, it's not going to work if I put it in the socket right next to the first one is it?!). I also did that strange action of flicking the socket switches on and off. Why do people do that? When a light bulb blows, why do we always flick the light on and off as though it's going to magically come back to life?
...and here's where 'idiot' reaches a whole new level. The sensible thing to do would be to go and check the fuse box for a tripped switch. What do I do? I carry the slow cooker, including the casserole, into my bedroom. I balance it on the end of my bed and reach across to the socket I plug my bedside lamp into!! Not only had I passed three seperate sockets in the lounge to get to that one, but I didn't take the casserole pot out of the cooker first!!
Anyway, the red light came on, so I knew the fuse in the plug must be ok. So, it must be the socket fuse that had blown. Carrying the casserole back to the kitchen I passed the airing cupboard with the fusebox. Now balancing the cooker and casserole on one arm I can see a switch HAS tripped. Flipping it back up, the socket now works and I can now warm my casserole - a casserole which has now done a full tour of the flat and on two occasions been in danger of being dropped!
Half an hour later I was tucking into a lovely casserole, first healthy meal I've had in a while.
....but there's still more.
Although I've 'fixed' the socket in the kitchen, it completely escapes my attention that one of the switches I had been flicking on and off before was a seperate fuse switch. There were two of them actually, right next to the sockets themselves. One of them I had left in the 'on' position, hence being able to warm my dinner. The other fuse switch I had left in the 'off' position. No real problem I suppose, I'm not using anything in the kitchen right now......
.....bearing in mind the socket has been out of action for a full 13 hours, it's only when I went to get a can of Sprite from the fridge and found it to be a bit warm did it dawn on me what I had done. That 7ft tall silver fridge freezer that lurks behind the door also shares the same bank of sockets. It must have been off all day AND it was still off because I hadn't turned the fuse switch back on. Thankfully the freezer section was still frozen (I know because the ice-cube tray wasn't swimming in water) but I had had a lucky escape. If I hadn't gone for that can of Sprite the freezer would have been fully defrosted and taken a multitude of pizzas, sausages and giant Yorkshire Puddings with it!
So there you go. For leaving a socket out of action for more than 13 hours (which had a fridge freezer plugged into it), for testing a plug by carrying a full casserole around the flat with me and for flicking a fuse switch on and off (and forgetting to put back 'on') I am once again a card-carrying, certifiable, dictionary defining idiot.
...shame about the lack of semi-naked women though :o)
February 27, 2008
February 22, 2008
Tattoo
As I've finally confessed to having a tattoo, I might as well share my thoughts on tattoos generally, and also try to explain my own choice of design.
I was brought up in a tattoo-free environment. No one I knew had a tattoo (well not a visible one anyway). Family, friends, neighbours no one had an inking that I could see. There's a possibility my friend's Dad (a policeman) had one on his arm but if he did, I only saw it on rare occasions, and not often enough to become curious about it.
At uni, I came across a few people with tattoos, but as most people I was surrounded by had just turned 18, it still wasn't a common sight. The fashion for women to get lower back images, or characters on the back of their shoulders was still a few years away.
As I moved to the Isle of Man, tattoos became much more common. I was mixing with different social backgrounds and fashions were also changing. The style of hipster trousers and crop tops came, revealing hips and bare midrifts. It was probably around this time that I consciously debated getting a tattoo, but it had to be 'right' if I did. Curiously, it was my wife who got one first, a chinese symbol on her shoulder. It looked really nice, and I'd definately describe it as sexy.
I'll take a step sideways to offer my own personal opinion on tattoos in general. On a man, I have no problems with tattoos at all. What interests me more is WHY they chose the image they did. I'd prefer that they were placed in a position that is easily covered. That's not me being a prude. I just think that a tattoo is a personal thing that can be exposed if required, but is not 'forced' upon people who don't like them. Tattoos on the neck, or knuckles just don't do anything for me because I don't have the choice of not looking at it.
For women, that sort of doesn't apply. A strategically placed tattoo is an extremely sexy thing, even if it's permenantly visible. A small image on the hips, or upper boob is fascinating. It's even more fascinating if it is only partially visible...gives the brain a thrill to imagine the rest of it. I'm not a HUGE fan of the lower back tattoos that seem to crop up now. It's lovely if the woman has a well toned body, but so many of them seem to be on ladies who should think about dressing a little bit more conservatively. I'd never judge someone for a tattoo though, male or female.
For both sexes there is one golden rule that I believe in.... the tattoo has to mean something. I could not imagine walking into a parlour and just picking a picture off the wall. It won't be unique and ultimately it's meaningless.
Anyway, back to me. So nearly ten years ago I thought about getting a tattoo, but my wife beat me to it. I still thought about it though, but what to get? If you knew me growing up, you'd know I had a love of 'icons' and striking imagery. My duvet covers had the playboy bunny on them (can't believe women have stolen that from us now!), my pin-ups were of Marilyn Monroe, one of the greatest icons of the 20th century. I adored Egyptian hieroglyphics, particularly King Tut's mask.... but these all seemed cliched as a tattoo.
The idea of a asian language symbol was also considered, but again it had already 'been done'.
My music tastes hadn't changed much over time, so I also thought about the imagery of Pink Floyd. Gerald Scarfe's spidery writing from 'The Wall', the robotic handshake from 'Wish You Were Here' and top of the list, the famous prism from 'Dark Side of the Moon' with the refraction of light, and that remained top of my list for quite a while....
...until I had a brainwave. What else had been with me throughout my life and wasn't likely to go away very soon? Maths.... and what does Maths use, more than any other academic subject? Symbols.
To cut a long story short (too late) I came up with the idea of 'Pi'. I discussed it with a friend, and before you can recite Pi to 20 decimal places she had designed a unique 'Pi' for me. About a month later it was there on my upper arm, and I love it. Not only is it an instantly recognizable 'symbol', it also represents one of the most powerful numbers in Mathematics.
I've followed my own rules: it's in a place that I can easily hid it, yet I can reveal it if someone wants to see it. It's uniquely designed, there isn't an identical 'Pi' anywhere in the world, and it's personal to me.
So there you go. I didn't get it as an act of defience, I didn't get it because of peer pressure, I got it because I find tattoos fascinating and it was an opportunity to do something just for me. It does have one drawback though....
.....makes it easier to identify me in a police line-up! :o)
I was brought up in a tattoo-free environment. No one I knew had a tattoo (well not a visible one anyway). Family, friends, neighbours no one had an inking that I could see. There's a possibility my friend's Dad (a policeman) had one on his arm but if he did, I only saw it on rare occasions, and not often enough to become curious about it.
At uni, I came across a few people with tattoos, but as most people I was surrounded by had just turned 18, it still wasn't a common sight. The fashion for women to get lower back images, or characters on the back of their shoulders was still a few years away.
As I moved to the Isle of Man, tattoos became much more common. I was mixing with different social backgrounds and fashions were also changing. The style of hipster trousers and crop tops came, revealing hips and bare midrifts. It was probably around this time that I consciously debated getting a tattoo, but it had to be 'right' if I did. Curiously, it was my wife who got one first, a chinese symbol on her shoulder. It looked really nice, and I'd definately describe it as sexy.
I'll take a step sideways to offer my own personal opinion on tattoos in general. On a man, I have no problems with tattoos at all. What interests me more is WHY they chose the image they did. I'd prefer that they were placed in a position that is easily covered. That's not me being a prude. I just think that a tattoo is a personal thing that can be exposed if required, but is not 'forced' upon people who don't like them. Tattoos on the neck, or knuckles just don't do anything for me because I don't have the choice of not looking at it.
For women, that sort of doesn't apply. A strategically placed tattoo is an extremely sexy thing, even if it's permenantly visible. A small image on the hips, or upper boob is fascinating. It's even more fascinating if it is only partially visible...gives the brain a thrill to imagine the rest of it. I'm not a HUGE fan of the lower back tattoos that seem to crop up now. It's lovely if the woman has a well toned body, but so many of them seem to be on ladies who should think about dressing a little bit more conservatively. I'd never judge someone for a tattoo though, male or female.
For both sexes there is one golden rule that I believe in.... the tattoo has to mean something. I could not imagine walking into a parlour and just picking a picture off the wall. It won't be unique and ultimately it's meaningless.
Anyway, back to me. So nearly ten years ago I thought about getting a tattoo, but my wife beat me to it. I still thought about it though, but what to get? If you knew me growing up, you'd know I had a love of 'icons' and striking imagery. My duvet covers had the playboy bunny on them (can't believe women have stolen that from us now!), my pin-ups were of Marilyn Monroe, one of the greatest icons of the 20th century. I adored Egyptian hieroglyphics, particularly King Tut's mask.... but these all seemed cliched as a tattoo.
The idea of a asian language symbol was also considered, but again it had already 'been done'.
My music tastes hadn't changed much over time, so I also thought about the imagery of Pink Floyd. Gerald Scarfe's spidery writing from 'The Wall', the robotic handshake from 'Wish You Were Here' and top of the list, the famous prism from 'Dark Side of the Moon' with the refraction of light, and that remained top of my list for quite a while....
...until I had a brainwave. What else had been with me throughout my life and wasn't likely to go away very soon? Maths.... and what does Maths use, more than any other academic subject? Symbols.
To cut a long story short (too late) I came up with the idea of 'Pi'. I discussed it with a friend, and before you can recite Pi to 20 decimal places she had designed a unique 'Pi' for me. About a month later it was there on my upper arm, and I love it. Not only is it an instantly recognizable 'symbol', it also represents one of the most powerful numbers in Mathematics.
I've followed my own rules: it's in a place that I can easily hid it, yet I can reveal it if someone wants to see it. It's uniquely designed, there isn't an identical 'Pi' anywhere in the world, and it's personal to me.
So there you go. I didn't get it as an act of defience, I didn't get it because of peer pressure, I got it because I find tattoos fascinating and it was an opportunity to do something just for me. It does have one drawback though....
.....makes it easier to identify me in a police line-up! :o)
February 21, 2008
New Leaf Part II
The New Leaf (well dating agency) is going slow. I've e-mailed about 5 ladies, 'winked' at 10 but so far, only 3 e-mails back in return.
Before you get excited, all three were from the US, all from non-US citizens, and all talking about marriage in the first paragraph. One of them even uses the on-line nickname 'Your-future-wife'. Now I'm not saying I'm not desperate myself, but that is taking it to the extreme.
So far I've resisted the urge to reply to them. I don't want a random Egyptian woman turning up on my doorstep with a suitcase in one hand and a marriage license in the other.
The 5 I've e-mailed all seemed really interesting. 2 of them in fact I would REALLY like to get to know better. We seem to have a lot in common. All I can do though is play the waiting game.
It's probably a good thing that it's taking a while. Right now I'm not in a fit state to meet anyone. I've got a streaming cold and keep sniffing in an undignified and unattractive manner. I also haven't got a day off due for nearly a fortnight, so it'd be hard to meet up with anyone even if I wanted to....
...but as the Guinness man said "All good things come to those who wait"
p.s. Completely off subject, I have a confession: Mum, I've got a tattoo, and I've had it for about 9 months. I love it, and am very proud of it. Only reason I haven't mentioned it is that I know you and Dad don't approve of tattoos, so it was easier to keep it secret than cause a scene. You would have found out eventually, so better I tell you than you find out some other way.
Before you get excited, all three were from the US, all from non-US citizens, and all talking about marriage in the first paragraph. One of them even uses the on-line nickname 'Your-future-wife'. Now I'm not saying I'm not desperate myself, but that is taking it to the extreme.
So far I've resisted the urge to reply to them. I don't want a random Egyptian woman turning up on my doorstep with a suitcase in one hand and a marriage license in the other.
The 5 I've e-mailed all seemed really interesting. 2 of them in fact I would REALLY like to get to know better. We seem to have a lot in common. All I can do though is play the waiting game.
It's probably a good thing that it's taking a while. Right now I'm not in a fit state to meet anyone. I've got a streaming cold and keep sniffing in an undignified and unattractive manner. I also haven't got a day off due for nearly a fortnight, so it'd be hard to meet up with anyone even if I wanted to....
...but as the Guinness man said "All good things come to those who wait"
p.s. Completely off subject, I have a confession: Mum, I've got a tattoo, and I've had it for about 9 months. I love it, and am very proud of it. Only reason I haven't mentioned it is that I know you and Dad don't approve of tattoos, so it was easier to keep it secret than cause a scene. You would have found out eventually, so better I tell you than you find out some other way.
February 17, 2008
Sleepless Nights
It's getting out of hand. I really can't sleep anymore. I am tired to the bone, but if I lie in my bed and drift off, I know I'll be awake within 20 minutes.
I want to blame it on the noisy bed. In some ways, I suppose I can, because I've got this pre-conceived notion in my head that if I turn in my sleep I'll wake the entire apartment block....
....but that's bollocks (sorry for swearing Mum)
My brain just won't shut down. I haven't found my comfort zone here. Every night I lie awake thinking of a million different thoughts, ideas, people, problems, issues - you name it.
I thought having no sleep wouldn't matter - after all, I managed for nearly 12 months doing two full time jobs, but it's not true. I can't do it anymore. I turned up to work today at 7am, and I haven't woken up for the whole day. I've been on auto-pilot for the entire shift. It's now approaching 11pm but I've no idea what mistakes are going to emerge over the next few days that I created today.
I'm going home now, but all that is on my mind is the bad weekend my friend has had, and I don't know the details. I know it's not my issue, I know I shouldn't care, but I also know it's going to play on my mind tonight. I worry about people. I care about others far more than I worry about myself.
I can't take a pill to sleep, because I'll worry I'll go through my alarm and be late for work. I'm having those horrible feelings again that Southampton was the biggest mistake I ever made. My bridges are burnt, so there's no turning back, but it might keep me awake for a long, long time.
I need a reason to be here. I need a reason to wake up in the morning. Work isn't going to do that.
I have no reason to wake up.
....maybe that's why I'm afraid to go to sleep.
I want to blame it on the noisy bed. In some ways, I suppose I can, because I've got this pre-conceived notion in my head that if I turn in my sleep I'll wake the entire apartment block....
....but that's bollocks (sorry for swearing Mum)
My brain just won't shut down. I haven't found my comfort zone here. Every night I lie awake thinking of a million different thoughts, ideas, people, problems, issues - you name it.
I thought having no sleep wouldn't matter - after all, I managed for nearly 12 months doing two full time jobs, but it's not true. I can't do it anymore. I turned up to work today at 7am, and I haven't woken up for the whole day. I've been on auto-pilot for the entire shift. It's now approaching 11pm but I've no idea what mistakes are going to emerge over the next few days that I created today.
I'm going home now, but all that is on my mind is the bad weekend my friend has had, and I don't know the details. I know it's not my issue, I know I shouldn't care, but I also know it's going to play on my mind tonight. I worry about people. I care about others far more than I worry about myself.
I can't take a pill to sleep, because I'll worry I'll go through my alarm and be late for work. I'm having those horrible feelings again that Southampton was the biggest mistake I ever made. My bridges are burnt, so there's no turning back, but it might keep me awake for a long, long time.
I need a reason to be here. I need a reason to wake up in the morning. Work isn't going to do that.
I have no reason to wake up.
....maybe that's why I'm afraid to go to sleep.
February 14, 2008
The New Leaf
Ok, I've gone and done it. I've gone and joined an online dating agency. The fact that it's Valentine's Day is actually an unhappy coincidence, I just needed something to motivate me to meet new people locally.
I can't keep my head stuck in the past. I can't keep relying on the ultra-slim chance I might meet some random girl in the Isle of Man when I'm there, especially now I can only visit every couple of months. I need to start meeting random females here instead.
So, I've registered, paid for a months subscription, and gone searching through the database. I decided honesty is the best policy on my own profile, so rather than lie and say I'm Brad Pitt's long-lost twin brother, I implied I look like a human teddy bear. (except I usually wear trousers)
For a profile photo, I decided against using the front cover of last months GQ magazine, and instead, used the arty, sepia style picture of me next to a model boat taken last year. Brown and white pics can be quite flattering really.
So far, I've e-mailed one person, and 'winked' at another (not sure quite what that does, but I think it's the dating version of Facebook poking). I wait with bated breath to see if either of them respond.
One woman has already 'looked' at my profile, but I think it might have been done in error. She was looking for a fit, army type guy to share training exercises with..... hmm, not quite me.
The lady I e-mailed seemed lovely. Our outlook on life were similar, and what we were ultimately seeking by joining the agency was the same too. Biggest downfall could be that she listed 'brainiacs' as a 'turn-off'. I might need to lose the Stephen Fry-esque attitude (well at least for the first date!)
So there you go, me turning over a new leaf. Next step is starting to write my novel. I think I'd be better suited to write a play or TV script, but we'll see what pans out. If anything does come of the dating agency, (or the novel) you know you'll read about it here in due course.
....don't hold your breath though.
I Love...
I use the word 'love' in it's proper sense. If it was a list of 'I like...' it would be a lot longer. These are the things that 'I love...'
I love my family, but I don't say it often enough.
I love my best friend, but I tell her too often.
I love to hug, but even moreso when I feel them hug back.
I love to kiss, but even moreso when I feel them kiss back.
I love The Norfolk Broads
I love Las Vegas
I loved 'J' in Widnes. I probably still do.
I love to act.
I love the theatre.
I love black and white movies.
I love snowfall.
I love thunderstorms.
I love secret coves.
I love to laugh.
I love my family, but I don't say it often enough.
I love my best friend, but I tell her too often.
I love to hug, but even moreso when I feel them hug back.
I love to kiss, but even moreso when I feel them kiss back.
I love The Norfolk Broads
I love Las Vegas
I loved 'J' in Widnes. I probably still do.
I love to act.
I love the theatre.
I love black and white movies.
I love snowfall.
I love thunderstorms.
I love secret coves.
I love to laugh.
February 13, 2008
I Fear...
I fear dying alone.
I fear no one will be at my funeral.
I fear dying in pain, but I don't fear death itself. I can't fear death, I don't know what it is.
I fear that (outside of my family), I have never been properly loved.
I fear that (outside of my family), I never will be truely loved.
I fear dementia, the day I start to forget more than I remember.
I fear clowns.
I fear being taken too seriously when I'm trying to have fun.
I fear being laughed at when I'm trying to be serious.
.....when I'm in a cheerier mode, I'll add an 'I love' blog.
I fear no one will be at my funeral.
I fear dying in pain, but I don't fear death itself. I can't fear death, I don't know what it is.
I fear that (outside of my family), I have never been properly loved.
I fear that (outside of my family), I never will be truely loved.
I fear dementia, the day I start to forget more than I remember.
I fear clowns.
I fear being taken too seriously when I'm trying to have fun.
I fear being laughed at when I'm trying to be serious.
.....when I'm in a cheerier mode, I'll add an 'I love' blog.
February 12, 2008
The Trip Back Home
drunkeness level 0/5
Well back to the Isle of Man anyway, but I suppose that is my 'home'. It's where I feel most comfortable and they do say 'home is where the heart is'. My heart isn't in Manchester or Southampton, so by a process of elimination that makes IOM the winner.
4 days and nights of drinking is not doing wonders for my head however. It's a full 24 hours since my last drink and I'm still suffering. I was doing ok whilst I was there, largely due to the fact I never sobered up, but now it's all coming back to haunt me.
Dancing til 3am in a crowded nightclub, singing Kareoke when I've already lost my voice, flirting with a woman who's 8 months pregnant, flicking pound coins into ashtrays for no visible reason, telling every girl I bump into that I've been missing them so much (even though in one case I couldn't even remember her name), inviting every man, child and dog to come and visit me in Southampton.... yup, a typical weekend away.
By the time I recover, it'll be time to organise the next trip over. At least the smoking ban will be in place by then, and my coat won't smell like the exhaust pipe of a double decker bus.
Don't know who'll read this, but a few thanks are in order. Thanks to the guys who gave me a bed, much appreciated. Thanks to the Outback just for being exactly as it was before i went away, and thanks to 'J' for giving up so much of her spare time to spend it with me. I love you all.
Well back to the Isle of Man anyway, but I suppose that is my 'home'. It's where I feel most comfortable and they do say 'home is where the heart is'. My heart isn't in Manchester or Southampton, so by a process of elimination that makes IOM the winner.
4 days and nights of drinking is not doing wonders for my head however. It's a full 24 hours since my last drink and I'm still suffering. I was doing ok whilst I was there, largely due to the fact I never sobered up, but now it's all coming back to haunt me.
Dancing til 3am in a crowded nightclub, singing Kareoke when I've already lost my voice, flirting with a woman who's 8 months pregnant, flicking pound coins into ashtrays for no visible reason, telling every girl I bump into that I've been missing them so much (even though in one case I couldn't even remember her name), inviting every man, child and dog to come and visit me in Southampton.... yup, a typical weekend away.
By the time I recover, it'll be time to organise the next trip over. At least the smoking ban will be in place by then, and my coat won't smell like the exhaust pipe of a double decker bus.
Don't know who'll read this, but a few thanks are in order. Thanks to the guys who gave me a bed, much appreciated. Thanks to the Outback just for being exactly as it was before i went away, and thanks to 'J' for giving up so much of her spare time to spend it with me. I love you all.
The Definition of Idiot.
drunkeness level 0/5
There is a reason why the title of this blog describes me as an idiot, it's because I am one. I have proof now, and I'd like to share it with you. I wasn't going to, because it's personal about someone else, but it's been making me smile for a couple of days now everytime I re-live the moment, so I hope it's taken in the same spirit. :o)
It's Saturday night. I've been giving it up on the dance floor and it's leaving time. The most beautiful woman in the nightclub has agreed to come home with me for a cuddle - largely I think to do with alcohol consuption and the outrageous taxi prices on The Isle of Man. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I'm getting into bed, and she is already there before me, semi-naked. Just to reiterate this is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, and she's lying in my bed.
Now, this part is NOT why I'm an idiot. If a bloke is reading this he will probably be calling me one because I didn't try 'anything'. I have to defend myself here, I had no intention of 'trying' anything. I should mention that this young lady is also my best friend, and no matter how much I care and love her, I'm never going to do anything to jeopardise our friendship. It's too strong. So no, that's not why I'm an idiot. I maybe a pervert most of the time, but I can be trusted to be a gentleman when the moment is right. This was one of those moments. Having her company for the night was more than I could have hoped for.
Anyway...I'm getting off track. I'm in bed, and I want a hug. Nothing sinster about that. We're both adults, we both care for each other, a simple hug to go to sleep. She's already on her side so all it needs is a friendly arm wrapped round her and all is well with the world....now we get to the idiot part.
I couldn't just drape my arm over her and fall asleep could I? oh no, My active brain is now into overdrive. I know I'm being a gentleman, I know my conscience is perfectly clear..... but does she know that? (in reality she's probably already dead to the world and oblivious to the dilemma I'm putting myself through!)
So, first attempt at hugging her and not making myself look like I'm being naughty. My right arm over her up at shoulder height. Her arm is outstretched, so now mine is lying along hers. Quite comfy, I'm probably not putting too much of my weight on her so it's all good. Gently stroking her arm I could easily drop off like this.......but wait......Because of where her arms are, she might think I'm trying to move them out of the way to get to her boobies! Oh shit!
Ok, second attempt. Further down her body and waist height. A natural place to hug someone, so that's good. Arm goes RIGHT round her. No matter, it's a natural position, still comfy, even less weight pressing on her, so all is good. A gentle kiss on the back of her neck (because that's where my face is placed)........but wait.......Because of the top she's wearing my arm is half on cloth and half on her bare flesh. She might think I'm trying to get under her shirt! Oh shit!
Third attempt, can't really go any lower, body wise, so I'll back away a few inches and rest my hand on her hip. Not too bad. Not a natural sleeping position , but it's still comfy and I'm less intrusive on her personal space now. All is good......but wait...... now my hand is half on her bare flesh, and half on her knickers. This probably looks worse that it did before. Instead of going for her boobies, she now might think I'm after something else instead. Oh shit!
Final attempt, Arm down her leg. (I'm getting desperate now). Almost immedately that felt wrong. It was lovely for me, but it looked like I was trying to get her to move her legs apart! Big 'Oh Shit!' for that one.
So now what do I do? Well I went back to the first attempt, gave her another kiss on the back of the neck, whispered a soft 'goodnight' to her and tried to fall asleep. I know I woke up about an hour later with my back to her, so I must have turned over anyway.
So, for being a gentleman and not trying it on, I am not an idiot. If anyone thinks I am, then so be it. But for turning a simple hug into the biggest melodrama since 'I Claudius' then I am a 100%, 24 carat, bone fide idiot, and probably always will be
Next time (if there is a next time) I'll make sure I get into bed first and she can do all the work! Being a gentleman can be a stressful experience.
....All the joking aside, it meant so much. Probably a lot more than I can ever express in words.
There is a reason why the title of this blog describes me as an idiot, it's because I am one. I have proof now, and I'd like to share it with you. I wasn't going to, because it's personal about someone else, but it's been making me smile for a couple of days now everytime I re-live the moment, so I hope it's taken in the same spirit. :o)
It's Saturday night. I've been giving it up on the dance floor and it's leaving time. The most beautiful woman in the nightclub has agreed to come home with me for a cuddle - largely I think to do with alcohol consuption and the outrageous taxi prices on The Isle of Man. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I'm getting into bed, and she is already there before me, semi-naked. Just to reiterate this is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, and she's lying in my bed.
Now, this part is NOT why I'm an idiot. If a bloke is reading this he will probably be calling me one because I didn't try 'anything'. I have to defend myself here, I had no intention of 'trying' anything. I should mention that this young lady is also my best friend, and no matter how much I care and love her, I'm never going to do anything to jeopardise our friendship. It's too strong. So no, that's not why I'm an idiot. I maybe a pervert most of the time, but I can be trusted to be a gentleman when the moment is right. This was one of those moments. Having her company for the night was more than I could have hoped for.
Anyway...I'm getting off track. I'm in bed, and I want a hug. Nothing sinster about that. We're both adults, we both care for each other, a simple hug to go to sleep. She's already on her side so all it needs is a friendly arm wrapped round her and all is well with the world....now we get to the idiot part.
I couldn't just drape my arm over her and fall asleep could I? oh no, My active brain is now into overdrive. I know I'm being a gentleman, I know my conscience is perfectly clear..... but does she know that? (in reality she's probably already dead to the world and oblivious to the dilemma I'm putting myself through!)
So, first attempt at hugging her and not making myself look like I'm being naughty. My right arm over her up at shoulder height. Her arm is outstretched, so now mine is lying along hers. Quite comfy, I'm probably not putting too much of my weight on her so it's all good. Gently stroking her arm I could easily drop off like this.......but wait......Because of where her arms are, she might think I'm trying to move them out of the way to get to her boobies! Oh shit!
Ok, second attempt. Further down her body and waist height. A natural place to hug someone, so that's good. Arm goes RIGHT round her. No matter, it's a natural position, still comfy, even less weight pressing on her, so all is good. A gentle kiss on the back of her neck (because that's where my face is placed)........but wait.......Because of the top she's wearing my arm is half on cloth and half on her bare flesh. She might think I'm trying to get under her shirt! Oh shit!
Third attempt, can't really go any lower, body wise, so I'll back away a few inches and rest my hand on her hip. Not too bad. Not a natural sleeping position , but it's still comfy and I'm less intrusive on her personal space now. All is good......but wait...... now my hand is half on her bare flesh, and half on her knickers. This probably looks worse that it did before. Instead of going for her boobies, she now might think I'm after something else instead. Oh shit!
Final attempt, Arm down her leg. (I'm getting desperate now). Almost immedately that felt wrong. It was lovely for me, but it looked like I was trying to get her to move her legs apart! Big 'Oh Shit!' for that one.
So now what do I do? Well I went back to the first attempt, gave her another kiss on the back of the neck, whispered a soft 'goodnight' to her and tried to fall asleep. I know I woke up about an hour later with my back to her, so I must have turned over anyway.
So, for being a gentleman and not trying it on, I am not an idiot. If anyone thinks I am, then so be it. But for turning a simple hug into the biggest melodrama since 'I Claudius' then I am a 100%, 24 carat, bone fide idiot, and probably always will be
Next time (if there is a next time) I'll make sure I get into bed first and she can do all the work! Being a gentleman can be a stressful experience.
....All the joking aside, it meant so much. Probably a lot more than I can ever express in words.
February 01, 2008
Valentine Day Massacre
drunkeness level 2/5 (I've been paid!)
The stupidest 'day' of the year rolls round again. Feb 14th. It should be renamed 'Clinton's Cards Day'. Any excuse to put pressure on ordinary people to buy plastic coated cardboard at extortionate prices. Jumping on the band-wagon is every restaurant, bistro and cafe in the western world. Suddenly their normal menu has red hearts drawn all over it and the prices have shot up 20%
Weird thing is, I've received genuine cards for the last 2 years. In 2006 I was dating 'J' from Widnes. in 2007 I was involved with 'K' the broom room girl and she sent me a card too. Considering I feel I've been single since I got divorced, that's quite impressive! In both cases I didn't have to fork out on a card for either of them. 'J' was worried her estranged husband would find it, and 'K' was worried her non-estranged husband would find it!!
It's unlikely I'll get a genuine card in 2008, bearing in mind I'm single, in a place where I don't know anyone and I'm not actively meeting new people. Then again, it'll be the third year in a row where I've not had to pander to the profiteering bastards at Clintons, so there's always a silver lining to every cloud.
Roll on Feb 15th when it's all over, the menu prices are back to normal and Clintons start putting cuddly Easter bunnies in their window instead.
...if you love someone, you show it everyday you are together. You don't need society to demand you do it on a specific day each year.
Rant over
The stupidest 'day' of the year rolls round again. Feb 14th. It should be renamed 'Clinton's Cards Day'. Any excuse to put pressure on ordinary people to buy plastic coated cardboard at extortionate prices. Jumping on the band-wagon is every restaurant, bistro and cafe in the western world. Suddenly their normal menu has red hearts drawn all over it and the prices have shot up 20%
Weird thing is, I've received genuine cards for the last 2 years. In 2006 I was dating 'J' from Widnes. in 2007 I was involved with 'K' the broom room girl and she sent me a card too. Considering I feel I've been single since I got divorced, that's quite impressive! In both cases I didn't have to fork out on a card for either of them. 'J' was worried her estranged husband would find it, and 'K' was worried her non-estranged husband would find it!!
It's unlikely I'll get a genuine card in 2008, bearing in mind I'm single, in a place where I don't know anyone and I'm not actively meeting new people. Then again, it'll be the third year in a row where I've not had to pander to the profiteering bastards at Clintons, so there's always a silver lining to every cloud.
Roll on Feb 15th when it's all over, the menu prices are back to normal and Clintons start putting cuddly Easter bunnies in their window instead.
...if you love someone, you show it everyday you are together. You don't need society to demand you do it on a specific day each year.
Rant over
January 27, 2008
Memory: The improvement of
drunkeness level 0/5 (I did have two cans of lager last night whilst watching Midsomer Murder though)
Back in the days when I used to watch a lot of TV, there was a gentleman who appeared on several shows with the claim to fame of being the World Memory Champion. I can't remember his name (not a good start!) but I do remember he was quite tall, short, brown curly hair and a Magnum P.I. moustache.
One thing I do remember about him was the technique he used to remember sequences of things. In most cases he demonstrated by memorising the order of the 52 cards in a pack after only looking through the pack once. The technique can also be used for storing sequences of numbers or letters if needed (like a bank account number, or Pi to 100 decimal places that kind of thing) Hmmm..........Pi
...anyway, the technique. Start by picturing a journey you know like the back of your hand. A journey you make on a regular basis. In my case it would be the walk to work, but it could be a regular bus ride, car journey etc. Any journey that you make over and over again and has familiar landmarks.
Next, picture a series of objects you see on that journey and keep them in order. An unusal tree, a brightly coloured front door, a road sign... just about anything just as long as you know you see them everytime you make the journey. For me it would start with the inside of my apartment door, followed by the bus stop right outside my flat, the bright yellow Barrats advert, the 'Bus Lane only' marked on the road as I cross and so on and so on.
Finally (keeping up with me so far?) the sequence you want to remember. Take each item in turn, and mix it with the objects on your route. Does that make sense? Probably not. Ok, I'll use my 4 route objects as an example to remember 4 random playing cards.
The four cards at random are: Jack of Hearts, 3 of spades, 6 of clubs and finally Ace of Diamonds. In my head I take my familiar route, but I 'add' the playing cards to it. I picture a giant Jack of Hearts on the back of my apartment door. The bus stop has the 3 of spades as an advert on it, the yellow Barrats advert now is trying to sell me the 6 of clubs, and instead of 'Bus Lane Only' the road markings now say 'Ace of Diamonds only'.
Because the route is so familiar to you, the 'changes' you make in your head will stand out and you should be able to remember the playing cards in order. I tried it this morning with 13 cards. I managed the first 10 and I knew the last one too. I only got cards 11 and 12 the wrong way round. Apparently if you practice over and over again, and always use the same route, you can increase the number of things you remember. That memory guy can remember multiple packs of cards mixed together without any effort.
I think 2008 might be the year I climb out of the gutter and improve my feeble mind. I've kept a plant alive for 6 weeks, I've started reading classic literature, and now I'm improving my memory. What next? :o)
....perhaps I should have a stab at writing that novel that's been rattling round inside my head for years.
Back in the days when I used to watch a lot of TV, there was a gentleman who appeared on several shows with the claim to fame of being the World Memory Champion. I can't remember his name (not a good start!) but I do remember he was quite tall, short, brown curly hair and a Magnum P.I. moustache.
One thing I do remember about him was the technique he used to remember sequences of things. In most cases he demonstrated by memorising the order of the 52 cards in a pack after only looking through the pack once. The technique can also be used for storing sequences of numbers or letters if needed (like a bank account number, or Pi to 100 decimal places that kind of thing) Hmmm..........Pi
...anyway, the technique. Start by picturing a journey you know like the back of your hand. A journey you make on a regular basis. In my case it would be the walk to work, but it could be a regular bus ride, car journey etc. Any journey that you make over and over again and has familiar landmarks.
Next, picture a series of objects you see on that journey and keep them in order. An unusal tree, a brightly coloured front door, a road sign... just about anything just as long as you know you see them everytime you make the journey. For me it would start with the inside of my apartment door, followed by the bus stop right outside my flat, the bright yellow Barrats advert, the 'Bus Lane only' marked on the road as I cross and so on and so on.
Finally (keeping up with me so far?) the sequence you want to remember. Take each item in turn, and mix it with the objects on your route. Does that make sense? Probably not. Ok, I'll use my 4 route objects as an example to remember 4 random playing cards.
The four cards at random are: Jack of Hearts, 3 of spades, 6 of clubs and finally Ace of Diamonds. In my head I take my familiar route, but I 'add' the playing cards to it. I picture a giant Jack of Hearts on the back of my apartment door. The bus stop has the 3 of spades as an advert on it, the yellow Barrats advert now is trying to sell me the 6 of clubs, and instead of 'Bus Lane Only' the road markings now say 'Ace of Diamonds only'.
Because the route is so familiar to you, the 'changes' you make in your head will stand out and you should be able to remember the playing cards in order. I tried it this morning with 13 cards. I managed the first 10 and I knew the last one too. I only got cards 11 and 12 the wrong way round. Apparently if you practice over and over again, and always use the same route, you can increase the number of things you remember. That memory guy can remember multiple packs of cards mixed together without any effort.
I think 2008 might be the year I climb out of the gutter and improve my feeble mind. I've kept a plant alive for 6 weeks, I've started reading classic literature, and now I'm improving my memory. What next? :o)
....perhaps I should have a stab at writing that novel that's been rattling round inside my head for years.
January 24, 2008
O-O-O it's Magic
still an alcohol free zone.
Just realised I only have two weeks to learn and attempt to perfect a new card trick. I can't turn up in Castletown on the 10th without something added to my reportoire. It could be hard. No practice time available, I haven't located my decent American cards yet, and I haven't got an opportunity to watch a magician perform a trick that I can work out and master.
Looks like this time it might have to be a Geoff original. Might be a variation on an existing trick, but as long as it appears different no one will notice.
...now, if I can just persuade someone to wear a sexy leotard and fish-net stockings my act would be complete.
Recreating Hitchcock Part II
Drunkeness level 0/5 (2 full days without alcohol)
...That makes me sound like I'm in an AA meeting. I went to an AA meeting once. I stood up and said "Hello, my name's Geoff and I'm a gambleaholic".
This nice looking lady sitting at the front turned to me and said "I'm sorry Geoff, I think you've made a mistake. This is alcoholics anonymous."
"I know", I replied, "but I'm too pissed to find the right room."
..anyway, back on track.
As you may recall from a previous entry, I have developed a knack for recreating famous scenes from Hitchcock movies. Not content with summoning up a flock of feathered friends for 'The Birds', I have now made myself the star of his 1954 classic 'Rear Window'.
For the uninitiated, the basic premise of the film is James Stewart lives in an apartment that overlooks a small courtyard. Out of his window he can see the windows of all the other flats. Stuck indoors because of a broken leg, he observes the comings and goings of all his neighbours. He begins to suspect that Raymond Burr in the flat directly opposite has killed his wife, and he enlists the help of Grace Kelly to help uncover the truth.
With me so far? Good. I got to leave work early yesterday, but having no money I just went home. I made myself some chunky vegetable soup and took it to my room to eat, whilst watching Midsomer Murders. (none of this is relevant I just want you to have a complete picture). After the soup I got into bed to continue watching the DVD. I hadn't drawn my curtains like I usually do, and looking out of the window, all I could see were the apartments opposite.
You may think it's strange that I've never made the Hitchcock connection before, but I think this is the first time I've looked out, whilst lying down. If I look out whilst standing up, I can see the road inbetween me and the other apartments so it looks nothing like the scene from the movie. If I look at the window from bed, it would normally be with the windows partially, or fully drawn.
...and it wasn't just the fact that the road wasn't in view. Most of the rooms had their lights on. They all had different style curtains, drapes or blinds which made every window look distinct. In some, you could see the shadows of people moving about. In another, the blue flicker of a TV screen. One had shirts hanging up - possibly someone doing their ironing. The one directly opposite me, at my eye level was the most intriguing. It was in complete blackness, but the balcony windows were wide open.
After a few minutes of me giving all these people nicknames and creating background stories for their lives, I glanced back at the dark room. The lights had never gone on, but now the windows were closed. Had a sinister Perry Mason look-a-like type character killed his wife, and opened the windows for fresh air? Was he now busy packing up her clothes into a tatty suitcase to make it look like she had gone on a holiday? Was I going to find newly turned earth in the potted plants in front of the apartment block? Someone must be in there for the doors to have been opened then closed, but why do it in secret? I'll let you know if I spot anything tonight. Sadly I don't have a Grace Kelly type woman visiting me and I don't think a gang of teddy bears are going to be much use as assistants.
...now all I need to do is to catch a beautiful, naked woman in a shower whilst I'm wearing my grey wig and black dress and we can have a go at 'Psycho'.
...That makes me sound like I'm in an AA meeting. I went to an AA meeting once. I stood up and said "Hello, my name's Geoff and I'm a gambleaholic".
This nice looking lady sitting at the front turned to me and said "I'm sorry Geoff, I think you've made a mistake. This is alcoholics anonymous."
"I know", I replied, "but I'm too pissed to find the right room."
..anyway, back on track.
As you may recall from a previous entry, I have developed a knack for recreating famous scenes from Hitchcock movies. Not content with summoning up a flock of feathered friends for 'The Birds', I have now made myself the star of his 1954 classic 'Rear Window'.
For the uninitiated, the basic premise of the film is James Stewart lives in an apartment that overlooks a small courtyard. Out of his window he can see the windows of all the other flats. Stuck indoors because of a broken leg, he observes the comings and goings of all his neighbours. He begins to suspect that Raymond Burr in the flat directly opposite has killed his wife, and he enlists the help of Grace Kelly to help uncover the truth.
With me so far? Good. I got to leave work early yesterday, but having no money I just went home. I made myself some chunky vegetable soup and took it to my room to eat, whilst watching Midsomer Murders. (none of this is relevant I just want you to have a complete picture). After the soup I got into bed to continue watching the DVD. I hadn't drawn my curtains like I usually do, and looking out of the window, all I could see were the apartments opposite.
You may think it's strange that I've never made the Hitchcock connection before, but I think this is the first time I've looked out, whilst lying down. If I look out whilst standing up, I can see the road inbetween me and the other apartments so it looks nothing like the scene from the movie. If I look at the window from bed, it would normally be with the windows partially, or fully drawn.
...and it wasn't just the fact that the road wasn't in view. Most of the rooms had their lights on. They all had different style curtains, drapes or blinds which made every window look distinct. In some, you could see the shadows of people moving about. In another, the blue flicker of a TV screen. One had shirts hanging up - possibly someone doing their ironing. The one directly opposite me, at my eye level was the most intriguing. It was in complete blackness, but the balcony windows were wide open.
After a few minutes of me giving all these people nicknames and creating background stories for their lives, I glanced back at the dark room. The lights had never gone on, but now the windows were closed. Had a sinister Perry Mason look-a-like type character killed his wife, and opened the windows for fresh air? Was he now busy packing up her clothes into a tatty suitcase to make it look like she had gone on a holiday? Was I going to find newly turned earth in the potted plants in front of the apartment block? Someone must be in there for the doors to have been opened then closed, but why do it in secret? I'll let you know if I spot anything tonight. Sadly I don't have a Grace Kelly type woman visiting me and I don't think a gang of teddy bears are going to be much use as assistants.
...now all I need to do is to catch a beautiful, naked woman in a shower whilst I'm wearing my grey wig and black dress and we can have a go at 'Psycho'.
January 23, 2008
Let me......Entertain You Part II
What's that? you want MORE??? How very dare you.
OK, here are some more facts, mainly about the English language and numbers. Hope you are amused
1. "Almost" is the longest word in common use that has all it's letters in alphabetical order
2. "Uncopyrightable" is the longest word that has no repeated letter
3. "Four" is the only number that has the same number of letters as the number itself.
4. There are 8 ways to pronounce the letters 'ough'. Reading this sentence will utilise them all:
"A rough, dough-faced ploughman strode through the streets of Scarborough, coughing and hiccoughing thoughtfully"
5. "Stewardessess" is the longest word that would be typed with only the left hand by a touch-typist. "Typewriter" is the longest word possible using only the top row of a typewriter.
6. 11% of the world are left-handed
7. (I love this one) For all you Maths geeks out there, the square of the number 111,111,111 is palindromic and contains all the digits 1 to 9 . SO: 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 is:
12,345,678,987,654,321 (I REALLY need to get out more)
8. If someone says 'I'll be back in a jiffy' they actually mean they will be back in 1/100th of a second. "Jiffy" is an offical scientific measurement of time.
9. I am officially a spremologer. (look it up!)
10. Bats always turn left when the exit a cave.
OK, here are some more facts, mainly about the English language and numbers. Hope you are amused
1. "Almost" is the longest word in common use that has all it's letters in alphabetical order
2. "Uncopyrightable" is the longest word that has no repeated letter
3. "Four" is the only number that has the same number of letters as the number itself.
4. There are 8 ways to pronounce the letters 'ough'. Reading this sentence will utilise them all:
"A rough, dough-faced ploughman strode through the streets of Scarborough, coughing and hiccoughing thoughtfully"
5. "Stewardessess" is the longest word that would be typed with only the left hand by a touch-typist. "Typewriter" is the longest word possible using only the top row of a typewriter.
6. 11% of the world are left-handed
7. (I love this one) For all you Maths geeks out there, the square of the number 111,111,111 is palindromic and contains all the digits 1 to 9 . SO: 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 is:
12,345,678,987,654,321 (I REALLY need to get out more)
8. If someone says 'I'll be back in a jiffy' they actually mean they will be back in 1/100th of a second. "Jiffy" is an offical scientific measurement of time.
9. I am officially a spremologer. (look it up!)
10. Bats always turn left when the exit a cave.
Let me......Entertain You
Drunkeness Level 0/5
As requested by a certain 'young' lady I'm blogging today just to keep people entertained.
How about random facts intermingled with one-line jokes? (is intermingled really a word?)
Fact 1: In Reno Nevada, often described as little Vegas, it is illegal to lie down on the pavement
Joke 1: I phoned my local gym and asked them if they could teach me how to do the splits. "Are you flexible?" They asked. "Well I can't make Tuesdays, but other than that I am"
Fact 2: A cat's urine will glow under a 'blacklight' (an ultraviolet light)
Joke 2: I read in the news today that the price of hearing aids has almost doubled in the past few weeks. Deaf people all over the country are going "How much?"
Fact 3: The cigarette lighter was invented and patented before the match
Joke 3: I was getting in my car and a friend came up and said "can you give me a lift?" "Sure", I said, "You're intelligent, attractive and everyone likes you."
Fact 4: According to leading economists, if they came up for sale, the three most valuable brand names in the world would be: Marlboro, Coca-Cola and Budweiser
Joke 4: I told my Mum last week that I had bought a theatre. "Are you having me on?" she asked. "Well I'll give you an audition, but no promises."
Fact 5: Andorra has an unemployment rate of 0%. In contrast, the unemployment rate in Liberia is over 85%
Joke 5: I rang up my local swimming baths. "Is that the local swimming baths?" I asked. "Dunno", came the reply, "depends where you're calling from."
As requested by a certain 'young' lady I'm blogging today just to keep people entertained.
How about random facts intermingled with one-line jokes? (is intermingled really a word?)
Fact 1: In Reno Nevada, often described as little Vegas, it is illegal to lie down on the pavement
Joke 1: I phoned my local gym and asked them if they could teach me how to do the splits. "Are you flexible?" They asked. "Well I can't make Tuesdays, but other than that I am"
Fact 2: A cat's urine will glow under a 'blacklight' (an ultraviolet light)
Joke 2: I read in the news today that the price of hearing aids has almost doubled in the past few weeks. Deaf people all over the country are going "How much?"
Fact 3: The cigarette lighter was invented and patented before the match
Joke 3: I was getting in my car and a friend came up and said "can you give me a lift?" "Sure", I said, "You're intelligent, attractive and everyone likes you."
Fact 4: According to leading economists, if they came up for sale, the three most valuable brand names in the world would be: Marlboro, Coca-Cola and Budweiser
Joke 4: I told my Mum last week that I had bought a theatre. "Are you having me on?" she asked. "Well I'll give you an audition, but no promises."
Fact 5: Andorra has an unemployment rate of 0%. In contrast, the unemployment rate in Liberia is over 85%
Joke 5: I rang up my local swimming baths. "Is that the local swimming baths?" I asked. "Dunno", came the reply, "depends where you're calling from."
Working 9 to 5, Trying Hard to Make a Living...
Drunkeness level 0/5
I'm now in my 15th week of work in Southampton. So far, I have worked a total of 1,050 hours. You do the maths!
Health and Safety laws in the UK state that no individual should average more than 48 hours of work per week.
My non-existant contract is for 60 hours per week, but that still means I've worked more than 100 hours of overtime.
I've put in a claim for the money, but I won't hold my breath. I know the owners of this company think I'm paid too much as it is.
I'm taking home the same money I used to in IOM, but there I worked a MAXIMUM of 60 hours a week and if I worked a weekend, I ony did about 50 hours. Now I'm doing a MINIMUM of 60 hours, and generally it's closer to 75.
...I'm such a whinger aren't I?
I'm now in my 15th week of work in Southampton. So far, I have worked a total of 1,050 hours. You do the maths!
Health and Safety laws in the UK state that no individual should average more than 48 hours of work per week.
My non-existant contract is for 60 hours per week, but that still means I've worked more than 100 hours of overtime.
I've put in a claim for the money, but I won't hold my breath. I know the owners of this company think I'm paid too much as it is.
I'm taking home the same money I used to in IOM, but there I worked a MAXIMUM of 60 hours a week and if I worked a weekend, I ony did about 50 hours. Now I'm doing a MINIMUM of 60 hours, and generally it's closer to 75.
...I'm such a whinger aren't I?
January 18, 2008
Coulrophobia Part II
Drunkeness level 0/5
Even the BBC agrees with me!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7191721.stm
Considering my fear, I've seen almost all the films listed in this article. That either means I'm a glutton for self-punishment, or perhaps the films themselves led me to the fear in the first place.
...remember to check under your bed tonight for a man in baggy trousers, pom-poms for buttons and bright orange hair over a white painted face.
Even the BBC agrees with me!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7191721.stm
Considering my fear, I've seen almost all the films listed in this article. That either means I'm a glutton for self-punishment, or perhaps the films themselves led me to the fear in the first place.
...remember to check under your bed tonight for a man in baggy trousers, pom-poms for buttons and bright orange hair over a white painted face.
January 14, 2008
To Sleep Perchance to Dream Part II
drunkeness level 0/5
Thought I'd continue my dream entry from earlier this week by relaying the story of the strange visions I had last night.
I had set a car treasure hunt for several teams (think there were 6 groups in all, although I don't know who all the people were). We all met in the side room of a pub - the layout didn't look familiar to me, so it wasn't one of my usual haunts either past or present. I sent the teams off with their questions, and I remained in the pub alone. The bar area was visible to me through a narrow archway, but I never went to the bar. The furniture was quite old fashioned, and it felt more like a seaside cafe than a pub.
After a while, the phone rang and it was for me - it was one of the teams. Apparently one of the questions in the treasure hunt involved them calling this phone to obtain a code. I said 'it's 14' and then hung up. I also doodled a huge '14' on a sheet of blank white paper with a blue biro.
Later, my sister came into the pub and sat with me. She apologised for missing the start of the treasure hunt, and then read a newspaper.
It got later, and later and the pub closed and the lights were turned off. I remained sitting in the side room. No one doing the treasure hunt had returned, or got in touch with me. I opened the back fire exit to the pub and I was at the top of a high flight of stone steps. Looking down, the surrounding area was all cobbled, and there was a column in front of me. It looked very similar to Castletown square (but the stone steps would have been in the back corner of the square behind the bus shelter). It was twilight, dark blue sky and lit up by orange street lights.
There was someone I knew on the cobbles - not someone I can give a name to, but I reacted to them as though I knew them. It was someone who had been on the treasure hunt. I asked them why they hadn't come back to the pub, and he just said 'oh we gave up half way round and went to another pub' He then told me that all 6 teams had met up and been socialising at this other pub for most of the night.
I thanked him for the info, went back into the dark building, gathered up my papers and left via the fire exit. My sister was no longer there, but I don't know where or when she went.
....then I woke up.
Thought I'd continue my dream entry from earlier this week by relaying the story of the strange visions I had last night.
I had set a car treasure hunt for several teams (think there were 6 groups in all, although I don't know who all the people were). We all met in the side room of a pub - the layout didn't look familiar to me, so it wasn't one of my usual haunts either past or present. I sent the teams off with their questions, and I remained in the pub alone. The bar area was visible to me through a narrow archway, but I never went to the bar. The furniture was quite old fashioned, and it felt more like a seaside cafe than a pub.
After a while, the phone rang and it was for me - it was one of the teams. Apparently one of the questions in the treasure hunt involved them calling this phone to obtain a code. I said 'it's 14' and then hung up. I also doodled a huge '14' on a sheet of blank white paper with a blue biro.
Later, my sister came into the pub and sat with me. She apologised for missing the start of the treasure hunt, and then read a newspaper.
It got later, and later and the pub closed and the lights were turned off. I remained sitting in the side room. No one doing the treasure hunt had returned, or got in touch with me. I opened the back fire exit to the pub and I was at the top of a high flight of stone steps. Looking down, the surrounding area was all cobbled, and there was a column in front of me. It looked very similar to Castletown square (but the stone steps would have been in the back corner of the square behind the bus shelter). It was twilight, dark blue sky and lit up by orange street lights.
There was someone I knew on the cobbles - not someone I can give a name to, but I reacted to them as though I knew them. It was someone who had been on the treasure hunt. I asked them why they hadn't come back to the pub, and he just said 'oh we gave up half way round and went to another pub' He then told me that all 6 teams had met up and been socialising at this other pub for most of the night.
I thanked him for the info, went back into the dark building, gathered up my papers and left via the fire exit. My sister was no longer there, but I don't know where or when she went.
....then I woke up.
January 13, 2008
QI versus the quiz machine part II
Drunkeness level 4.5/5 (it's been along day!)
This is an addition to a previous post. Two days ago, the quiz machine asked me 'what does the word "kangaroo" mean?'
Now, my limited random knowledge had heard a vicious rumour, that kangaroo was given it's name because it was the Abourigine word for 'I don't know', and that was one of the options available to me. I chose it, and it was correct. Hurrah!
...however.... I've just watched QI, series 1, Episode 7 and apparently that's a load of hogwash. Kangaroo is the same word as 'horse' in Abourigine.
Thankfully, I got to the quiz machine, before I watched that particular episode, otherwise it would have been 50p up the creek again!
....I think I might write to Stephen Fry and ask for the money he owes me from previous QI to quiz machine mismatches...
This is an addition to a previous post. Two days ago, the quiz machine asked me 'what does the word "kangaroo" mean?'
Now, my limited random knowledge had heard a vicious rumour, that kangaroo was given it's name because it was the Abourigine word for 'I don't know', and that was one of the options available to me. I chose it, and it was correct. Hurrah!
...however.... I've just watched QI, series 1, Episode 7 and apparently that's a load of hogwash. Kangaroo is the same word as 'horse' in Abourigine.
Thankfully, I got to the quiz machine, before I watched that particular episode, otherwise it would have been 50p up the creek again!
....I think I might write to Stephen Fry and ask for the money he owes me from previous QI to quiz machine mismatches...
January 12, 2008
To Sleep Perchance to Dream
Drunkeness level 1/5
Sleep is a strange thing. Since moving, my sleep pattern has not really improved. In reality it's got a little bit worse. A lot of this is to do with my overloaded conscience, and the rest is due to the bed I've got. The creaks and groans it makes when I turn over are loud enough to wake me up! (As well as all my neighbours and their pets. There is a goldfish living next door who is now receiving therapy for the amount of times I've disturbed his rest)
As I can't fall into deep sleep anymore, I tend to remember almost all my dreams, several per night. There is a wide eclectic mix of subject matter... rude, funny, scary, emotional and the truely bizarre. The people involved range from individuals I've only ever met once, family members, close friends, famous actors and complete strangers.
I remember when I was about 14 an art teacher at school got us involved in an experiment about thinking and dreaming, but it's only now I've realised what he said was true. Which side of your body you lie on, determines the time-frame of your dreams.
If you are right-handed, and sleep lying on your right arm, you will dream of something that might happen in the future. If you sleep on your left arm, you think of something that has already happened. If you lie on your back you dream of the present and if you lie on your stomach you might suffocate on your pillow! :o)
As a lefty, lying on your left or right arm is reversed (so left arm is for the future, and right for the past). I can now confirm that all this is true.
If I find myself dreaming of schooldays, or someone I knew at college, I will be leaning on my right side. If I turn over, I find it impossible to get back to the same dream, and I drift into some future fantasy instead.
Last night was quite funny. I woke myself up from a beautiful story involving a girl I used to have a crush on many years ago. As I tried to drop off again, I had turned over and I just couldn't get back into the same train of thought. I decided to force myself to turn over and there she was in my head waiting for me! It's good to know that if I want to deliberately dream about old times, all I have to do is lie on my right side!
What to try it yourself without actually going to sleep? Look up and think hard about the earliest Christmas you can remember...think hard...concentrate on everything and anything you can remember about that time (good or bad)
Which way did you turn your head whilst you were concentrating? If you are right handed you probably turned your head slightly to the left. Leftys turn their head slightly to the right.
...I've absolutely no idea what happens if you're ambidextrous.
Sleep is a strange thing. Since moving, my sleep pattern has not really improved. In reality it's got a little bit worse. A lot of this is to do with my overloaded conscience, and the rest is due to the bed I've got. The creaks and groans it makes when I turn over are loud enough to wake me up! (As well as all my neighbours and their pets. There is a goldfish living next door who is now receiving therapy for the amount of times I've disturbed his rest)
As I can't fall into deep sleep anymore, I tend to remember almost all my dreams, several per night. There is a wide eclectic mix of subject matter... rude, funny, scary, emotional and the truely bizarre. The people involved range from individuals I've only ever met once, family members, close friends, famous actors and complete strangers.
I remember when I was about 14 an art teacher at school got us involved in an experiment about thinking and dreaming, but it's only now I've realised what he said was true. Which side of your body you lie on, determines the time-frame of your dreams.
If you are right-handed, and sleep lying on your right arm, you will dream of something that might happen in the future. If you sleep on your left arm, you think of something that has already happened. If you lie on your back you dream of the present and if you lie on your stomach you might suffocate on your pillow! :o)
As a lefty, lying on your left or right arm is reversed (so left arm is for the future, and right for the past). I can now confirm that all this is true.
If I find myself dreaming of schooldays, or someone I knew at college, I will be leaning on my right side. If I turn over, I find it impossible to get back to the same dream, and I drift into some future fantasy instead.
Last night was quite funny. I woke myself up from a beautiful story involving a girl I used to have a crush on many years ago. As I tried to drop off again, I had turned over and I just couldn't get back into the same train of thought. I decided to force myself to turn over and there she was in my head waiting for me! It's good to know that if I want to deliberately dream about old times, all I have to do is lie on my right side!
What to try it yourself without actually going to sleep? Look up and think hard about the earliest Christmas you can remember...think hard...concentrate on everything and anything you can remember about that time (good or bad)
Which way did you turn your head whilst you were concentrating? If you are right handed you probably turned your head slightly to the left. Leftys turn their head slightly to the right.
...I've absolutely no idea what happens if you're ambidextrous.
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