I have been to two tragic funerals recently, and both have upset me in different ways.
The first one was of an elderly lady. She had lived a long and exciting life, working at The Mirror Newspaper, and travelling around the world. She was an inspirational lady even if she could talk the hind legs off a donkey.
I met her first in my cab. I had had a particularly good day (around christmas). Our local radio station had put on a prize for the best christmas lights, and the town had responded exuberantly. As Mrs Douglas jumped in the car, I told her how much it would be to take her home, but would she like to look around the houses at no extra charge. She did and we laughed ourselves silly at the many displays.
About 6 months later I answered an unusual request to help someone move. It's the kind of job that takes a long time, but doesn't pay well, so the other drivers left it. I was still relatively new however and hadn't realised the full extent of the job. It turned out to be Mrs Douglas, and I instantly recognised her. The job was long and fruitless, but we didn't care so much.
Over the next 6 months we became great friends, but she had planned a move further east, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before she left for good. My parents also became good friends of her during this time though, and when she finally did leave, we all kept in touch with the occasional visit and regular very very long phone calls.
Over the New Years period she contracted an infection which spread across her body. She died in late February.
In March I went to her funeral. It was held in a crematorium in Reading. Only 6 people attended. Only one family member. One lady who was there had never met Mrs Douglas in person, but had been paid regularly over the last 12 years to put flowers on Mrs Douglas' parents grave. The one family member was a distant cousin who lived in the north of Scotland.
I felt so angry with her. I didn't know what to say or do, but after the funeral I found myself crying my eyes out for her. For the waste that had been her life.
Yesterday I went to another funeral. A young lady, only 31 years old passed away last week to the shock of her friends and family.
I knew Miss Kellaway when she was little. We used to throw big family parties, and play charades and trivial pursuit. She was always smiling and entertaining.I have an affinity to children, they mostly see me as a climbing frame as a rule. She did not. This young lady was incredibly well-behaved and polite, and took her time to get to know me. She was always involved and I liked her a lot. I didn't know her as she grew up, but I learnt she had no children, and although she was very attached to her partner, they had not married. I guess they just never got round to it.
The funeral was well attended at one of our local churches, the coffin was placed in the middle of the church before eventually being carried off to the crematorium. Her partner tried his best to read a touching poem, but was too grief-stricken to get the words out properly. Her father had written a beautiful eulogy but he too didn't have the composure to read it. As the priest took control, the whole congregation could feel the immense despair in the words.
Once again I cried, as did everyone around me.I have been to a few funerals now, many more funerals than weddings. This was by far the most personal and touching.
I was heartened to know that so many people will be thinking of her and her family as I have been today.
For my own part, I have come to some stark conclusions. Firstly I don't want to die old and alone. I know how tragic it may seem to my parents and loved ones, but I would rather die younger (not yet obviously).
Secondly, I want to be harvested. I am a humanist at heart, and believe that there is enough great beauty in this world. One of the tragedies of life here on earth, however is the inequality we all suffer. I have been lucky enough to be born here, in a decent secure stable country. I have also been born with a relatively healthy body, which I have learnt to abuse. I do feel a debt to the community I live in however, and so wish to be harvested for educational purposes or transplant. I'd rather not live in a jar, but if that's what happens then so be it.
Finally I want anyone attending my funeral to be wearing the silliest thing they possibly can, and should anyone turn up with respectable funeral clothing, then they should be given a pair of long plastic clown shoes and a big glowing red nose. I know that people could be grief-stricken, but I want them to remember this moment with a warm smile. I want them to be turning to the person next to them and chuckling. I want my final last joke to be on them.
I know that people who know me, would get the joke.
To my two friends, I salute you. You have moved onto our memories, our dreams and our stories, where all the sadness disappears and only the funny and remarkable remain. You have both been funny and remarkable, and will be well-remembered. You have both made a difference to my life, perhaps the only truly glowing honour.
Showing posts with label My World. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My World. Show all posts
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Thursday, 24 December 2009
Stereotypes, Racism and My Two Front Teeth
There is something odd about Stereotypes. We all recognise them as being intrinsically wrong. After all they assume that everyone is alike, which they obviously aren't. The only trouble is that clearly there is something right about stereotypes too. Whether you like it or not, the Americans are gun-toting, the French are arrogant, the Japanese do take pictures of everything and the English do create "little england" wherever they go. That is not to say that all of them are, but enough to make it a reasonable stereotype.
If they are a reasonable picture of a people or a culture though, why are we so offended by them. In the UK we had a hit show in the 70's called "Mind Your Language". It was totally successful right up to the end of its run, and had massive viewing figures. It was however racist, and ITV took it off the air. The show was about an english speaking school. The english teacher would try to teach people from different nationalities the nuances of english. The french lady was whistful and sexy, the italian man was passionate and gaudy, the japanese man had a strict code of conduct and so on.
My mother is Chilean and she loved it. She recognised and associated with the spanish bartender character Juan. She understood his protective family values, she laughed herself silly when Juan would treat Mr Brooks the teacher like his closest brother, and laughed harder still when he would raise his fists at the teacher and threaten him with a "punch up". The truth is that in Chile, they have strong family values. They are very protective, and should you be welcomed into the family circle of friends then you really are like the lost brother returned. I experienced this myself when were in Chile. I had never met these people my mother introduced me to, but their welcome was honest and heart-warming in a way I had not experienced before.
This show was filled with stereotypes, from the efficient german au pair, to the chairman mau quoting chinese lady. It was also filled with warmth celebrating our differences and understanding that each nationality has a different set of problems when trying to conform to the british way of thinking.
In the end, as the world got more PC, this well watched show was shown to be racist. As a brit I understand that on the one level we are just laughing at the funny foreigners and their stupid ways. On another hand though it was saying we are all different, let's not be frightened to say so.
The truth is that each and every stereotype has come from somewhere. There are however, reasons for them. Not excuses exactly, but reasons. There is a stereotype of the English being arrogant and nationalistic, superior and outspoken. Pretty much everything you get from Al Murray's "The Pub Landlord". We have an unhappy history in England, we have lorded it over half the world for many years. We have exported "Britishness" and reaped its rewards. And now we are paying for it. The English are disliked the world over for its oppressive history. From our closest neighbour Scotland, to Australia on the other side of the world, everyone enjoys seeing us fail.
We are not an apologetic people as a rule however, so instead of crawling into a corner we stubbornly stand out unabashed claiming how wonderful we must be for everyone to want to beat us. We become visciously protective of our nationalism, shouting from the highest rooftop how we do things better than everyone else, and no-one will tell us what to do, especially those foreigners in Europe. Obviously this isn't everyone, but all the english feel this streak of jingoistic zeal around them.
When asked "What is England?" however, we tend to struggle. We know its not double decker buses and beefeater hats, but over hundereds of years of trying to keep an empire, then a commonwealth and always a United Kingdom we lost our identity in a way the Scots, Irish and Welsh would never have done.
To say "What is Britain?" however! We know instantly of a proud nation fighting alone against insurmountable odds, of a parliament that was the template of governmental process around the world, of a system of laws and courts that balances our sense of equality and justice, of a talented and well educated people that have influenced the worlds thinking from Charles Darwin to Isaac Newton, that changed the way we see the world from William Shakespeare to George Orwell, and who led the world in creative invention from Isambard Kingdom Brunel's brindges to Adam Smiths ideas on competition.
Anyway, the reason I mention all of this is because this Christmas I am staying with my brother in Scotland. He is 5 years older than me and we used to do exactly what the archetypal stereotype of brothers do. We fought all the time, were horrid to each other at every opportunity, we were jealous and competitive at every turn but we would fight side by side if someone hurt us, and backed each other through thick and thin when trying to get one past our parents.
Today as we were driving through the snow, some of the old arguments were brought up. There was no way that I could compete with my brother physically when I was young so I learnt how to get to him emotionally. In fact I became an expert in it. I could get him to fight me within a minute if I wanted to, and since he had no reasonable response, he would end up punching my teeth out. I would claim the moral victory and get the double bonus of him getting unfairly told off by my parents. By pointing out irritating failings in his comments I managed to provoke the same angry response I got all those years ago.
Now I'm not 8 and he isn't 13. My brother and I are both mature now, and we're smart enough to know what was happening, so he didn't get told off by my parents, and I still have my teeth, but as he protested telling me I am argumentative, and as I frustrated him by reminding him of his unreasonable opinion, I thought about how we got to where we are now. How just like glaciers carved the rock into hills and valleys, our time growing up together helped carve our personalities. As last night wore on, and the entire population of Aberfeldy tried in vein to take on the Allen boys in doubles pool. I felt so proud to be once again back to back with him taking on the world.
Stereotypes aren't always wrong, they aren't always unjust, but the truth is that they don't tell the whole story. Searching for the larger picture can be fun, entertaining and inspirational. Assuming a people have a "type" is not as big a problem as not asking where the "type" came from.
If they are a reasonable picture of a people or a culture though, why are we so offended by them. In the UK we had a hit show in the 70's called "Mind Your Language". It was totally successful right up to the end of its run, and had massive viewing figures. It was however racist, and ITV took it off the air. The show was about an english speaking school. The english teacher would try to teach people from different nationalities the nuances of english. The french lady was whistful and sexy, the italian man was passionate and gaudy, the japanese man had a strict code of conduct and so on.
My mother is Chilean and she loved it. She recognised and associated with the spanish bartender character Juan. She understood his protective family values, she laughed herself silly when Juan would treat Mr Brooks the teacher like his closest brother, and laughed harder still when he would raise his fists at the teacher and threaten him with a "punch up". The truth is that in Chile, they have strong family values. They are very protective, and should you be welcomed into the family circle of friends then you really are like the lost brother returned. I experienced this myself when were in Chile. I had never met these people my mother introduced me to, but their welcome was honest and heart-warming in a way I had not experienced before.
This show was filled with stereotypes, from the efficient german au pair, to the chairman mau quoting chinese lady. It was also filled with warmth celebrating our differences and understanding that each nationality has a different set of problems when trying to conform to the british way of thinking.
In the end, as the world got more PC, this well watched show was shown to be racist. As a brit I understand that on the one level we are just laughing at the funny foreigners and their stupid ways. On another hand though it was saying we are all different, let's not be frightened to say so.
The truth is that each and every stereotype has come from somewhere. There are however, reasons for them. Not excuses exactly, but reasons. There is a stereotype of the English being arrogant and nationalistic, superior and outspoken. Pretty much everything you get from Al Murray's "The Pub Landlord". We have an unhappy history in England, we have lorded it over half the world for many years. We have exported "Britishness" and reaped its rewards. And now we are paying for it. The English are disliked the world over for its oppressive history. From our closest neighbour Scotland, to Australia on the other side of the world, everyone enjoys seeing us fail.
We are not an apologetic people as a rule however, so instead of crawling into a corner we stubbornly stand out unabashed claiming how wonderful we must be for everyone to want to beat us. We become visciously protective of our nationalism, shouting from the highest rooftop how we do things better than everyone else, and no-one will tell us what to do, especially those foreigners in Europe. Obviously this isn't everyone, but all the english feel this streak of jingoistic zeal around them.
When asked "What is England?" however, we tend to struggle. We know its not double decker buses and beefeater hats, but over hundereds of years of trying to keep an empire, then a commonwealth and always a United Kingdom we lost our identity in a way the Scots, Irish and Welsh would never have done.
To say "What is Britain?" however! We know instantly of a proud nation fighting alone against insurmountable odds, of a parliament that was the template of governmental process around the world, of a system of laws and courts that balances our sense of equality and justice, of a talented and well educated people that have influenced the worlds thinking from Charles Darwin to Isaac Newton, that changed the way we see the world from William Shakespeare to George Orwell, and who led the world in creative invention from Isambard Kingdom Brunel's brindges to Adam Smiths ideas on competition.
Anyway, the reason I mention all of this is because this Christmas I am staying with my brother in Scotland. He is 5 years older than me and we used to do exactly what the archetypal stereotype of brothers do. We fought all the time, were horrid to each other at every opportunity, we were jealous and competitive at every turn but we would fight side by side if someone hurt us, and backed each other through thick and thin when trying to get one past our parents.
Today as we were driving through the snow, some of the old arguments were brought up. There was no way that I could compete with my brother physically when I was young so I learnt how to get to him emotionally. In fact I became an expert in it. I could get him to fight me within a minute if I wanted to, and since he had no reasonable response, he would end up punching my teeth out. I would claim the moral victory and get the double bonus of him getting unfairly told off by my parents. By pointing out irritating failings in his comments I managed to provoke the same angry response I got all those years ago.
Now I'm not 8 and he isn't 13. My brother and I are both mature now, and we're smart enough to know what was happening, so he didn't get told off by my parents, and I still have my teeth, but as he protested telling me I am argumentative, and as I frustrated him by reminding him of his unreasonable opinion, I thought about how we got to where we are now. How just like glaciers carved the rock into hills and valleys, our time growing up together helped carve our personalities. As last night wore on, and the entire population of Aberfeldy tried in vein to take on the Allen boys in doubles pool. I felt so proud to be once again back to back with him taking on the world.
Stereotypes aren't always wrong, they aren't always unjust, but the truth is that they don't tell the whole story. Searching for the larger picture can be fun, entertaining and inspirational. Assuming a people have a "type" is not as big a problem as not asking where the "type" came from.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Another day, another week....
So, heres the skinny.
I've been back in the country for a little over a week. Its cold, rainy and I have a cold already. Grrrrr.
Much worse than that, I have been without my baby. This is NOT GOOD! I spend most of my days thinking about her, and worrying about how much she has to do without me, and worrying that we wont be able to afford the wedding, and worrying and worrying and worrying.
Everything feels wrong. The pain in my recovering ankle has always been dull, but maybe with the damp weather it feels worse. The food I've had since I got back is fine except it just doesnt taste the same. Even the TV shows just dont entertain me as much. Everything is as I left it 7 weeks ago, but somehow slightly different.
I just miss her.
Anyway, I'm here to write a blog, not whimper on about how life is terrible.
I do however want to write an apology. I have a number of friends, good people whom I let down consistantly, I dont keep in touch, I ignore their requests, and dont return their phone calls. Its not because I dont want to. They are all very entertaining and great fun to hang out with, but as I get older I have noticed that this is the compromise we all make.
Friends... take up valuable time that we could be much better off spending watching soap operas, and keeping warm tucked up in bed. When we feel down and depressed we avoid our friends. When we feel poor, we avoid our expensive friends. Our friends may give us great memories, but they also give us hangovers, they also force us to get out of our comfies and make us whip round with the hoover in a mad flurry.
For me right now I have two things to focus on. Spend as much time with my baby on line as possible, and work. I have so little time I can freely give to my friends, whom I miss and whom I care about very much.
I really miss chewing the fat with my brother. We used to compete over almost everything, and discuss pointless rubbish like the astethic values of Tarantino's "Kill Bill" til the early morning. We once watched 30 hours of movies back to back, with help of a few friends, snacks, pizza and a hell of a lot of coffee.
I miss cooking strange new recipes with one friend, watching her face as I throw in handfuls of dried spices. I miss us having a meal and sitting down to watch a Vin Diesel or Russel Crowe, seeing her purr at the screen. Or another day we would pig out on chocolates and chat til 2am. With my unreliablility, however and her busyness its been months since we have done that.
I have another great friend whom I adore spending time with. When I was younger I used to pop round to see her and her fella. They would put up with me tinkering on their guitars, playing their music and asking silly questions like "Who is Bruce Springsteen anyway". Now I only ever get to see her on family occasions or very very rarely I stop and chat to her at the odd gig. Im so sorry.
Then theres my oldest friend who now lives in Bournemouth with his beautiful wife. Its not so far away, and yet I rarely even call. When they first moved away I used to go round and stay for the evening. We would hang out in the best Chinese restaurants eating 100 yr old eggs, and dim sum to die for. Then after a few bevvies it was back to the flat for an entire night of playing "rocky" on the X-box. Now I have to search around to remember his phone number.
My great school friend, another married lady now, who tries her very best to stay in touch with me. Offering me a coffee every now and then. We have spent a few New Years together, but I've never done enough to deserve your attention.
My favourite work colleague. Who endlessly asks me out for a drink. Im not a big drinker, you always knew this, but I wish I could spend more time just hanging out with you. I'm always saying I dont have the time or the money. I'm sorry buddy. I miss you.
My literary friend. Who throws ideas off his walls like a sparkler on a cold bonfire night. I know how busy we have both become, and how hard it is just to hang out anymore, and I'm sorry. And my ex-flat mate, who actually lives on his own at the moment. Do you think I would come round more often if we had two playstations set up? lol. I should spend more time pal. I'm so sorry I dont.
There are many many others who I could mention. There are many others that over the stretch of time I have simply lost. Perhaps we all do. Perhaps people really do drift apart like this.
I can only assume its my melancholic mood thats making me think these things, plus the recognition that next year I will move away. Perhaps not forever, but for long enough that things may never be the same again.
I have found that through the net, I have done better at keeping in touch with these lost amigo's. That in some small way I can tell them whats going on in my life, and maybe get a glance of what has happened in theirs, but know that you all mean so very much to me, and I really do miss you even if I dont have the time to say so in person.
I've been back in the country for a little over a week. Its cold, rainy and I have a cold already. Grrrrr.
Much worse than that, I have been without my baby. This is NOT GOOD! I spend most of my days thinking about her, and worrying about how much she has to do without me, and worrying that we wont be able to afford the wedding, and worrying and worrying and worrying.
Everything feels wrong. The pain in my recovering ankle has always been dull, but maybe with the damp weather it feels worse. The food I've had since I got back is fine except it just doesnt taste the same. Even the TV shows just dont entertain me as much. Everything is as I left it 7 weeks ago, but somehow slightly different.
I just miss her.
Anyway, I'm here to write a blog, not whimper on about how life is terrible.
I do however want to write an apology. I have a number of friends, good people whom I let down consistantly, I dont keep in touch, I ignore their requests, and dont return their phone calls. Its not because I dont want to. They are all very entertaining and great fun to hang out with, but as I get older I have noticed that this is the compromise we all make.
Friends... take up valuable time that we could be much better off spending watching soap operas, and keeping warm tucked up in bed. When we feel down and depressed we avoid our friends. When we feel poor, we avoid our expensive friends. Our friends may give us great memories, but they also give us hangovers, they also force us to get out of our comfies and make us whip round with the hoover in a mad flurry.
For me right now I have two things to focus on. Spend as much time with my baby on line as possible, and work. I have so little time I can freely give to my friends, whom I miss and whom I care about very much.
I really miss chewing the fat with my brother. We used to compete over almost everything, and discuss pointless rubbish like the astethic values of Tarantino's "Kill Bill" til the early morning. We once watched 30 hours of movies back to back, with help of a few friends, snacks, pizza and a hell of a lot of coffee.
I miss cooking strange new recipes with one friend, watching her face as I throw in handfuls of dried spices. I miss us having a meal and sitting down to watch a Vin Diesel or Russel Crowe, seeing her purr at the screen. Or another day we would pig out on chocolates and chat til 2am. With my unreliablility, however and her busyness its been months since we have done that.
I have another great friend whom I adore spending time with. When I was younger I used to pop round to see her and her fella. They would put up with me tinkering on their guitars, playing their music and asking silly questions like "Who is Bruce Springsteen anyway". Now I only ever get to see her on family occasions or very very rarely I stop and chat to her at the odd gig. Im so sorry.
Then theres my oldest friend who now lives in Bournemouth with his beautiful wife. Its not so far away, and yet I rarely even call. When they first moved away I used to go round and stay for the evening. We would hang out in the best Chinese restaurants eating 100 yr old eggs, and dim sum to die for. Then after a few bevvies it was back to the flat for an entire night of playing "rocky" on the X-box. Now I have to search around to remember his phone number.
My great school friend, another married lady now, who tries her very best to stay in touch with me. Offering me a coffee every now and then. We have spent a few New Years together, but I've never done enough to deserve your attention.
My favourite work colleague. Who endlessly asks me out for a drink. Im not a big drinker, you always knew this, but I wish I could spend more time just hanging out with you. I'm always saying I dont have the time or the money. I'm sorry buddy. I miss you.
My literary friend. Who throws ideas off his walls like a sparkler on a cold bonfire night. I know how busy we have both become, and how hard it is just to hang out anymore, and I'm sorry. And my ex-flat mate, who actually lives on his own at the moment. Do you think I would come round more often if we had two playstations set up? lol. I should spend more time pal. I'm so sorry I dont.
There are many many others who I could mention. There are many others that over the stretch of time I have simply lost. Perhaps we all do. Perhaps people really do drift apart like this.
I can only assume its my melancholic mood thats making me think these things, plus the recognition that next year I will move away. Perhaps not forever, but for long enough that things may never be the same again.
I have found that through the net, I have done better at keeping in touch with these lost amigo's. That in some small way I can tell them whats going on in my life, and maybe get a glance of what has happened in theirs, but know that you all mean so very much to me, and I really do miss you even if I dont have the time to say so in person.
Thursday, 1 October 2009
Culture Shock and Double Cream
As some of you will know this trip to the US is very different to the last one. Wheras last time we were going out all the time spending the days in museums, art galleries and theatres, and the nights in good restaurants trying to teach the two skiddles which fork to use, this time the closest we have been to going out has been McDonalds.
It has been a good thing though, interesting and challenging. For my part with my girl in her new job leaving at 7am in the morning and coming home at 6pm at night, and the kids gone from 8 to 3, its meant that I had to get to grips with a very different Oklahoma. I have kept myself busy enough, or at least I did initially, trying to keep the place clean, and cook a variety of things, but I have noticed some "differences" which have not helped in my plight to become a domestic god.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="264" caption="Whipped cream"]
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For a start, some of my world famous recipes, have not gone according to plan. In fact they have not gone according to plan so much, that now both the skiddles and my girl are a little... well i'd like to say worried but the truth is that they're more scared than worried. And whilst I accept that some of it has been my fault, most of it hasnt been. Say for example just the other day when I made a peach desert. I wanted to top it off with Evapourated Milk, a delicious, thick and sweet liquid, that goes nicely with a spongy cake type thing. Imagine my disappointment when the stuff that came out was much more like UHT (which they have never heard of over here). It was very hard to explain how it really does taste better in England! Luckily we had some "Whipped Cream"... Whipped cream over here comes pre-whipped in a margerine tub, for you to spoon out!
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="242" caption="spaghetti i think"]
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The other day I was cooking some sticky lemon pork, which went well,
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="210" caption="bad rice"]
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but the spanish rice.... this is rice boiled in chicken stock and tomatoes didnt go so well. For a start, I spent a good half an hour trying to figure out how to use the can opener, then the rice I used turned out to be quick cook rice, and so went very squidgy by the time I had finished with it. Then there was the spaghetti... now i know what youre thinking... how can you get spaghetti wrong, well two things happened. First the tin of tomatoes I had turned out to be tomatoes and chillis. Now, I am sure that skiddles the world over are fussy. I remember my mother fighting with me over fussiness when I was younger, and my girls skiddles are no different. They took to my "chilli" bolognaise like cats to water... it was not pretty. It didnt help that when I asked how much spaghetti to use, my girl, not realising it was a big pack, told me to use the lot, which then overfilled the pot, until they went all sticky and starchy!
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="316" caption="spanish tortilla"]
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Then there was the spanish omelet (or tortilla) which I made with green beans (cos I didnt think the kids would like spinach), but apparently since I called it a tortilla, and so they expected a flat mexican pancake, and i gave them a thick eggy omelet, they objected to!
In fact the only thing that seems to have gone down okay is my salad dressing, and even that has a limited success. I have noticed that the kids have taken to "adding salt" to everything I cook now, not cos it needs salt but because that way they cant taste it, and they can turn to mommy and claim "its too salty, can I throw it out"!
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="285" caption="cool"]
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Now speaking of Mommy for a little moment... Mommy started off by backing me up. "you must try it", "Its all food", "children in Africa would love to eat this", but as the weeks went on, I noticed she started having "A full lunch with the boss"
So I have started to feel more and more deflated, and its not just in the cooking department either. Take for example the toilet cleaner, which comes as a powder that you leave in the toilet bowl for a while before flushing it. Except flushing it at the wrong time, or putting too much powder in the bowl (especially with such a high water mark on the loo) meant that the foam would flow over the lip of the toilet and may have covered the toilet floor and I may have had to spend a while cleaning it. erm.... but thats not all, even their floor cleaner proved to be too tricky. Instead of having a simple mop and bucket, which everyone and his grandma could deal with, they have a "swisher", a strange device that looks like a mop with a button push cleaning fluid ejector half way up the stick.... Now how was I supposed to know that you needed to put a sheet on the bottom of the thing.
Enough said.... There are things I could have done better, and there are things I have been plain unlucky with. All this is part of the culture shock you get when you come here for any amount of time. I was stunned the other day whilst watching the american version of who wants to be a millionaire that I couldnt get past the first three questions! How was I supposed to know the lyrics to some childrens song!
The truth is that the US might look a little like England, might feel a little like England, might even talk english, but it aint England! No double cream, no clotted cream, no sugar in chocolate (the chocolate here is horrid!), no hot tea, no back bacon, no mature cheddar, no branston pickle, no curry and no crusty bread.
Not that Im saying England is better, just different. And the US offers so much more..... pazazz. It surprises you with its never ending supply of drinks, the swimming pools, basketball nets and tennis courts connected to each set of apartments, its free telephone lines in other countries when you get a new local contract.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="147" caption="heheh"]
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The US shows how the customer really can be king, it floods you with a million special offers and a billion freebies. Sometimes though its hard to look past the BOGOF's and the Open Days and see how you are being manipulated. Its hard to see that the cheap fuel given to you in one hand means a divisive and unethical manipulation of the international market on the other. Sometimes you feel like you are living in a fantasy, and you just cant imagine people living a different way. Its easy to "expect" things and after a while I have found myself questioning service instead of stoicly putting up with it like we do in the UK.
Their belief in the polarised one side or the other system is quite astonishing. Not just republican (tory) and democrat (labour), but Dallas Cowboys or Pitsburgh Steelers, No guns or you must have a gun or Jesus or the Devil. Everything is black or white and there is no voice for shades. And the language is so confused that you sepnd half your time trying to work out what you are supporting (or not). Pro-life or Pro-choice... which one believes in abortion? If someone talks of euthanasia, another person talks of death camps.
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="234" caption="uh??"]
[/caption]
Since I've been here I've heard arguments that Darwin caused World War II, that Gravity is gods way of keeping us on the planet and that the US of A have won every major war since the war of independance. Mostly told by nutters that have no place singing on street corners, and yet they do.
I have had a discussion with my future father-in-law that said that the americans saved "your butts" in Granada. If you dont know what happened in Granada, I advise you to look it up and see what the text books say. I had to aquiesce since I didnt know the subject, but I must have done enough, because a revised edition was handed to me the next time I spoke with him, and therin lies another great thing about the US.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption="She might not be pretty but she brings pure joy!"]
[/caption]
When they do realise, accept, appreciate they are wrong, they really do something about it. Service is incredible, in every regard, like when the kids ordered some drinks the other day and the waitress brought them over, but the kids started crying telling us they wanted a different drink. In England you would die of embarrassment and tell them to shut up. In england the waitress would huff and groan and charge you double. In the US the waitress told us no problem and came back two minutes later with the new order at no extra charge. Or the way that my girls steak was not cooked well enough for her so they asked her to remove the baked potato, so she had something to eat, whilst they cooked it up, and then they gave her ANOTHER baked potato with the newly cooked steak. This was not special attention, this was common practice.
I went to the school the kids are at again. I had gone several times last time I was here, and I had to pick something up here this time. The staff remembered my name, allowed me to sit in their office, offered me a tour and a drink. There is something incredible in that level of commitment. And believe me, its not just to me they offer it, its with everyone.
I hope that my life here doesnt make me forget my cynicism. Doesnt stop me questioning the facts I am told about the world. I hope I keep doubting everything, and looking for my own answers. More than that, I hope that I keep pushing my new family to see the rest of the world, to recognise what they consider as being normal or passable actually is incredibly good in any other country. I hope I can bring a little realism to their lives, as in my opinion everyone needs to know how they have it good wheras others have it bad just because they happened to be born in the wrong country.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="192" caption="spoilt?"]
[/caption]
I have alwasy been greatful that my parents did that for me, that they forced me to eat things I didnt like as a child, forced me to sit through things I was bored at, and forced me to try speaking languages when it was much easier not to. I hope I can help do that because its a start to being a more understanding more sympathetic person. To appreciate that things are good here, in part because they are bad somewhere else, and that things covered overnight but not put in the fridge is what millions of people with no fridges do every single day, and perhaps we shouldnt worry so much about the germ that got away, and that maybe a few germs can make us stronger not weaker.
That wasting food/fuel/energy/plastics/boxes may not be a crime, but it is a sin, in that it is a crime of priviledge that both sides of the pond are guilty of.
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="216" caption="flu pack"]
[/caption]
In the US at the moment they have adverts for "Swine flu packs" these include tissues, cold medicine, headache pills, muscle pain pills, face masks and hand cleaning gel. They are aimed at children, in fact such is the panic of swine flu that schools are regularly closing their doors for days at a time to stop the spread. We are talking about swine flu here. On the grand scale if things, swine flu is not a big killer, its not even killed as many people as measles did last year. According to statistics, your child is more likely to get run over going to school than they are from the swine flu they are very unlikely to get at school. And its that kind of manipulation that scares me. When you are swamped with it, then its hard to see the truth.
After all, how many in the UK were worried by asian flu, or the millenium bug. We all fall victim to this crazy manipulation caused by newspapers and media looking for sensationalist stories to catch the attention of a scared public. And I'm in the heart of it. Right here. I dont want to succumb to it, and hope I never do significantly. Its that part of me that I worry about the most though. That part of me that forgets how ugly hard and real life can be elsewhere, when we have it so good, that even our homeless people have somewhere to ask for help if they are prepared to. I'm reminded of Alan, one of Dorchester's tattooed drunks that recently was given a home to live in. After years and years of choosing not to accept help he finally gave up, saying that his tramping days are over and thanks for the retirement present.
I'm thinking whilst it is good to see the old stallwart walking home every night, what people in Sierra Nevada or Pakistan would have thought of the choices he made. What the young innocent girls of the Surinam, raped by men who have aids because a witch doctor told them that was the only cure, would think of it. What Indian children of 8 years old would think of it as they climb up giant rubbish tips in search of some tin to sell. I wonder in fact how much money those same children would make over here in the US in one year climbing up the mountains of trash over here.
As a conclusion, and I'm sorry this is so long, I want to say that the US is a wonderful paradise of opportunity, where the best really is appreciated and demanded, but I just want to see a little piece of the other world. The world of poverty and hunger. When I was a child I saw Barry Norman on a kids tv show. The nations favourite film reviewer at the time said that to be a film reviewer, a good one, you had to watch an awful lot of BAD movies, to know a good one when you see it.
I think thats good advice for me now, and for everyone.
It has been a good thing though, interesting and challenging. For my part with my girl in her new job leaving at 7am in the morning and coming home at 6pm at night, and the kids gone from 8 to 3, its meant that I had to get to grips with a very different Oklahoma. I have kept myself busy enough, or at least I did initially, trying to keep the place clean, and cook a variety of things, but I have noticed some "differences" which have not helped in my plight to become a domestic god.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="264" caption="Whipped cream"]
[/caption]For a start, some of my world famous recipes, have not gone according to plan. In fact they have not gone according to plan so much, that now both the skiddles and my girl are a little... well i'd like to say worried but the truth is that they're more scared than worried. And whilst I accept that some of it has been my fault, most of it hasnt been. Say for example just the other day when I made a peach desert. I wanted to top it off with Evapourated Milk, a delicious, thick and sweet liquid, that goes nicely with a spongy cake type thing. Imagine my disappointment when the stuff that came out was much more like UHT (which they have never heard of over here). It was very hard to explain how it really does taste better in England! Luckily we had some "Whipped Cream"... Whipped cream over here comes pre-whipped in a margerine tub, for you to spoon out!
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="242" caption="spaghetti i think"]
[/caption]The other day I was cooking some sticky lemon pork, which went well,
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="210" caption="bad rice"]
[/caption]but the spanish rice.... this is rice boiled in chicken stock and tomatoes didnt go so well. For a start, I spent a good half an hour trying to figure out how to use the can opener, then the rice I used turned out to be quick cook rice, and so went very squidgy by the time I had finished with it. Then there was the spaghetti... now i know what youre thinking... how can you get spaghetti wrong, well two things happened. First the tin of tomatoes I had turned out to be tomatoes and chillis. Now, I am sure that skiddles the world over are fussy. I remember my mother fighting with me over fussiness when I was younger, and my girls skiddles are no different. They took to my "chilli" bolognaise like cats to water... it was not pretty. It didnt help that when I asked how much spaghetti to use, my girl, not realising it was a big pack, told me to use the lot, which then overfilled the pot, until they went all sticky and starchy!
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="316" caption="spanish tortilla"]
[/caption]Then there was the spanish omelet (or tortilla) which I made with green beans (cos I didnt think the kids would like spinach), but apparently since I called it a tortilla, and so they expected a flat mexican pancake, and i gave them a thick eggy omelet, they objected to!
In fact the only thing that seems to have gone down okay is my salad dressing, and even that has a limited success. I have noticed that the kids have taken to "adding salt" to everything I cook now, not cos it needs salt but because that way they cant taste it, and they can turn to mommy and claim "its too salty, can I throw it out"!
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="285" caption="cool"]
[/caption]Now speaking of Mommy for a little moment... Mommy started off by backing me up. "you must try it", "Its all food", "children in Africa would love to eat this", but as the weeks went on, I noticed she started having "A full lunch with the boss"
So I have started to feel more and more deflated, and its not just in the cooking department either. Take for example the toilet cleaner, which comes as a powder that you leave in the toilet bowl for a while before flushing it. Except flushing it at the wrong time, or putting too much powder in the bowl (especially with such a high water mark on the loo) meant that the foam would flow over the lip of the toilet and may have covered the toilet floor and I may have had to spend a while cleaning it. erm.... but thats not all, even their floor cleaner proved to be too tricky. Instead of having a simple mop and bucket, which everyone and his grandma could deal with, they have a "swisher", a strange device that looks like a mop with a button push cleaning fluid ejector half way up the stick.... Now how was I supposed to know that you needed to put a sheet on the bottom of the thing.
Enough said.... There are things I could have done better, and there are things I have been plain unlucky with. All this is part of the culture shock you get when you come here for any amount of time. I was stunned the other day whilst watching the american version of who wants to be a millionaire that I couldnt get past the first three questions! How was I supposed to know the lyrics to some childrens song!The truth is that the US might look a little like England, might feel a little like England, might even talk english, but it aint England! No double cream, no clotted cream, no sugar in chocolate (the chocolate here is horrid!), no hot tea, no back bacon, no mature cheddar, no branston pickle, no curry and no crusty bread.
Not that Im saying England is better, just different. And the US offers so much more..... pazazz. It surprises you with its never ending supply of drinks, the swimming pools, basketball nets and tennis courts connected to each set of apartments, its free telephone lines in other countries when you get a new local contract.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="147" caption="heheh"]
[/caption]The US shows how the customer really can be king, it floods you with a million special offers and a billion freebies. Sometimes though its hard to look past the BOGOF's and the Open Days and see how you are being manipulated. Its hard to see that the cheap fuel given to you in one hand means a divisive and unethical manipulation of the international market on the other. Sometimes you feel like you are living in a fantasy, and you just cant imagine people living a different way. Its easy to "expect" things and after a while I have found myself questioning service instead of stoicly putting up with it like we do in the UK.
Their belief in the polarised one side or the other system is quite astonishing. Not just republican (tory) and democrat (labour), but Dallas Cowboys or Pitsburgh Steelers, No guns or you must have a gun or Jesus or the Devil. Everything is black or white and there is no voice for shades. And the language is so confused that you sepnd half your time trying to work out what you are supporting (or not). Pro-life or Pro-choice... which one believes in abortion? If someone talks of euthanasia, another person talks of death camps.
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="234" caption="uh??"]
[/caption]Since I've been here I've heard arguments that Darwin caused World War II, that Gravity is gods way of keeping us on the planet and that the US of A have won every major war since the war of independance. Mostly told by nutters that have no place singing on street corners, and yet they do.
I have had a discussion with my future father-in-law that said that the americans saved "your butts" in Granada. If you dont know what happened in Granada, I advise you to look it up and see what the text books say. I had to aquiesce since I didnt know the subject, but I must have done enough, because a revised edition was handed to me the next time I spoke with him, and therin lies another great thing about the US.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption="She might not be pretty but she brings pure joy!"]
[/caption]When they do realise, accept, appreciate they are wrong, they really do something about it. Service is incredible, in every regard, like when the kids ordered some drinks the other day and the waitress brought them over, but the kids started crying telling us they wanted a different drink. In England you would die of embarrassment and tell them to shut up. In england the waitress would huff and groan and charge you double. In the US the waitress told us no problem and came back two minutes later with the new order at no extra charge. Or the way that my girls steak was not cooked well enough for her so they asked her to remove the baked potato, so she had something to eat, whilst they cooked it up, and then they gave her ANOTHER baked potato with the newly cooked steak. This was not special attention, this was common practice.
I went to the school the kids are at again. I had gone several times last time I was here, and I had to pick something up here this time. The staff remembered my name, allowed me to sit in their office, offered me a tour and a drink. There is something incredible in that level of commitment. And believe me, its not just to me they offer it, its with everyone.
I hope that my life here doesnt make me forget my cynicism. Doesnt stop me questioning the facts I am told about the world. I hope I keep doubting everything, and looking for my own answers. More than that, I hope that I keep pushing my new family to see the rest of the world, to recognise what they consider as being normal or passable actually is incredibly good in any other country. I hope I can bring a little realism to their lives, as in my opinion everyone needs to know how they have it good wheras others have it bad just because they happened to be born in the wrong country.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="192" caption="spoilt?"]
[/caption]I have alwasy been greatful that my parents did that for me, that they forced me to eat things I didnt like as a child, forced me to sit through things I was bored at, and forced me to try speaking languages when it was much easier not to. I hope I can help do that because its a start to being a more understanding more sympathetic person. To appreciate that things are good here, in part because they are bad somewhere else, and that things covered overnight but not put in the fridge is what millions of people with no fridges do every single day, and perhaps we shouldnt worry so much about the germ that got away, and that maybe a few germs can make us stronger not weaker.
That wasting food/fuel/energy/plastics/boxes may not be a crime, but it is a sin, in that it is a crime of priviledge that both sides of the pond are guilty of.
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="216" caption="flu pack"]
[/caption]In the US at the moment they have adverts for "Swine flu packs" these include tissues, cold medicine, headache pills, muscle pain pills, face masks and hand cleaning gel. They are aimed at children, in fact such is the panic of swine flu that schools are regularly closing their doors for days at a time to stop the spread. We are talking about swine flu here. On the grand scale if things, swine flu is not a big killer, its not even killed as many people as measles did last year. According to statistics, your child is more likely to get run over going to school than they are from the swine flu they are very unlikely to get at school. And its that kind of manipulation that scares me. When you are swamped with it, then its hard to see the truth.
After all, how many in the UK were worried by asian flu, or the millenium bug. We all fall victim to this crazy manipulation caused by newspapers and media looking for sensationalist stories to catch the attention of a scared public. And I'm in the heart of it. Right here. I dont want to succumb to it, and hope I never do significantly. Its that part of me that I worry about the most though. That part of me that forgets how ugly hard and real life can be elsewhere, when we have it so good, that even our homeless people have somewhere to ask for help if they are prepared to. I'm reminded of Alan, one of Dorchester's tattooed drunks that recently was given a home to live in. After years and years of choosing not to accept help he finally gave up, saying that his tramping days are over and thanks for the retirement present.
I'm thinking whilst it is good to see the old stallwart walking home every night, what people in Sierra Nevada or Pakistan would have thought of the choices he made. What the young innocent girls of the Surinam, raped by men who have aids because a witch doctor told them that was the only cure, would think of it. What Indian children of 8 years old would think of it as they climb up giant rubbish tips in search of some tin to sell. I wonder in fact how much money those same children would make over here in the US in one year climbing up the mountains of trash over here.
As a conclusion, and I'm sorry this is so long, I want to say that the US is a wonderful paradise of opportunity, where the best really is appreciated and demanded, but I just want to see a little piece of the other world. The world of poverty and hunger. When I was a child I saw Barry Norman on a kids tv show. The nations favourite film reviewer at the time said that to be a film reviewer, a good one, you had to watch an awful lot of BAD movies, to know a good one when you see it.
I think thats good advice for me now, and for everyone.
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
God, Assessyphus and Determinism
I dont know how you feel but sometimes I cant help feeling that my life is just an uphill climb. Everytime something goes right, there is something or someone else that brings you down. Im starting to feel like Assessyphus in the greek fable, who tried to push his rock to the top of the hill.
As you may know, I am in love. She is a wonderful lady, funny, charming, intellegent. We live 4800 miles apart but I've never felt so close to another spirit. Our romance started in our heads at first, and we became close friends. We spent hours talking to each other every day both on the phone and online, laughing and crying, arguing and playing. Soon we found our relationship blossoming into a special cerebral love. A close important understanding as to what we wanted, what our dreams were, what we believed in. We worked through our relationship with the distance acting like our own chaperone.
We finally met around Easter. All our lingering doubts and concerns as to whether what we were thinking was actually real vanished in the first moments of our meeting. As I walked towards her the lady on customs told me "shes been waiting over there for a while, and shes very nervous!", I barely heard her. I knew as my heart exploded with love that this was the woman I would marry. Over the next few weeks I met her family, all of which seemed to like me well enough and all of which knew by the way we were together that this was the real thing. Its odd how it seems so obvious to them having seen us together, and how difficult it is for people over here who havent.
By the end of the trip we were both planning our big day, but since that day I find myself constantly facing brick walls. Most appear to be just plain bad luck, but you cant help but wonder if god himself isnt trying to say something.
Firstly, since I returned back home from the states, I have had car trouble. Not little bits of car trouble, but great mountains of car trouble. I have had to fork out over £1000 on it since Easter. Now this is on a car, that if I were to sell right now, would only go for about £1000. If it wasnt a taxi, and if I wasnt planning to leave the country next year, i might just think to hell with it, and get another job.
In fact, that is exactly what I would have done this time last year, when the car I bought for £4k the year previously decided to cough and splutter on me. I took it to my Vauxhall Dealership who told me it was a problem that would cost me £800. Ok, i thought, thats expensive, but its just about worth it. I got a cab and paid my hard earned cash over to their desk. The VERY next day the same mechanic told me they had spotted another problem and this one would cost another £1000. If I had known the repairs would cost £1800, i wouldnt have bothered. So now im stuck... pay £1000 and get my repaired car, or lose my £800, AND my car.
So now to have yet ANOTHER massive expense is pushing me towards despair.
Then there is me... I gave up smoking in October because my girl is asthmatic. I loved smoking, and not a day goes by without me wanting a cigarette, but despite this I knew I could save money, and I wouldnt kill my girl when I finally get to be with her. I started to take regular exercise in June. I swam two sometimes three times a week, and I took up Badminton. Now I have snapped my achilles tendon, and I cannot work for two months minimum.
It was only the second time I went.
You may say that I tried to do too much too early, you may say that if she really loved you she wouldnt make you do these things. She didnt make me. I made me... I made a decision. I have always been overweight, and happy with it too. I have never found a skinny body very attractive, and so never really aspired to be like that. I was also not very talented in sports and so rarely strived to get fit. I have always been happy enough.
The one time I decided that I would lose weight was when I lived with my best friend Steven. I had broken up with my first important love and was very depressed. We lived on the edge of town, and I found that I could run at night when no-one saw me, or heard me more importantly. I decided I would go a certain distance, and if I got tired I would walk a little, but the distance would be covered... twice a week. It took me aound 45 mins at first, but I got it down to 30. I found myself changing diet automatically. I just didnt want the sandwich or the chips, instead I had more energy overall. I went out more and was much more confident and friendly. I enjoyed it, but things change. Work got busier, we moved out of the flat, and I found a new girlfriend. Times change, and I had lost all inclination.
I never felt so inclined to improve my health until now. And just like the smoking, I just did it. When I make a decision to change for the rest of your life, you want it to start straight away, so I started swimming. I knew the weight loss would come eventually, but week after week of not getting anywhere made me want to step things up a gear. So I started playing badminton, a sport I love. The first session nearly killed me, I was stiff from head to toe for 5 days! I was walking around like Frankenstein, but I loved it... I knew it had made a real difference and I also knew that I wouldnot give in, never give in. The second session, my tendon goes.
It felt like something snapped. It popped like bubble wrap, and I was on the floor. I expected more pain, in fact at first I had in my head one of those pictures you see of footballers with broken legs, but after the initial shock... i nearly fainted thinking I had ruined any chance of being with my girl... I was able to get up and hobble to my car. It was after a week that I finally decided I ought to see a doc. Since then its been plaster for two weeks, and now this stupid boot for what may be another 8 weeks.
In the states, my girl has had trouble herself. I wont tell you about it on here as its not my place to mention it, but I can guarantee you, you would consider it very unlucky also. Thank god her health isnt suffering (i am knocking on wood as I say that)
We had planned to marry in May next year. All things had to do was to stay the same.
Now we discuss things with such sadness, as we havent got a clue how to plan anything when you simply dont know where the next disaster is going to come from. She tells me all the time that I should just pack up my stuff and go, but I just cant. And just when you need the person who you love by your side, both of us find ourselves alone.
I dont know what to do for the best. For someone who has always had a plan, Im lost and for the first time scared that we may never get to be with eachother.
As I think about it. About how easy it would be to give up. How everything and everyone is telling me not to be hasty, to reconsider, to take my time. I think about God, and I think about determinism. We often get the two mixed up. If you believe in God, a christian god, then you believe we all have choices. The choice to do good, the choice to follow Jesus, the choice to believe, by the same reasoning we have the choice to turn our backs on God. God gave us his son so the christians say, to show us the way. So we know there is no extra help coming from him.
I am always reminded of the bible story about the prodigal son. In the story a farmer has two sons, the younger of which demands to have his inheritance early. The farmer reluctantly gives it and the son travels into the city where he wastes his money on "riotous living"... my fathers favourite phrase... eventually he returns home to his dad who greets him with open arms.
The story is specifically a parable about returning to the faith, but its also about choices. In it the son has clearly chosen to live his own life and make his own decisions, a theme often reitterated in the bible. He eventually returns home, having chosen that life working for his father as a slave is preferable to living on the streets. As I look around in my life though, I wonder where my choices are, when so much goes wrong, and so many things get in your way to stop you from making the one choice you have decided upon.
I have heard it said so many times that God works in mysterious ways. Its why he takes innocent children in volcanos and earthquakes they say. It why he allows so many to die in Africa through drought and disease, and maybe its why he is stopping me from being with my true love.
Alternatively, we sometimes call this fate, determinism or destiny. It basically says that what will be will be, after all... if this is so hard then surely it cant be right. That just like the water that finds the path of least resistance to maintain the optimum efficiency of energy usage, so we should find the path thats easiest for us. When I fell in love with this wonderful woman I found it to be the easiest thing I had ever done. Doesnt that count for anything? isnt that my fate?
I feel desperate and defeated right now. I feel lost and alone and confused. And the only thing I know is that I am happiest when I am with her. I cannot believe that God conspires against me like an evil jealous zealot. If that is who God is then I dont want to know him, and likewise I cant believe we are destined to be apart like some shakespearian tragedy. We must find a way, have to find a way.
Because tomorrow, I will get up, and I will go downstairs and I will face my day knowing that the only chance, the only reason for me to be there at all is because of her.
And no God, and no Fate is going to stop me. You wanna see determinism. Its right here, facing you down and telling you "I will never give up"
As you may know, I am in love. She is a wonderful lady, funny, charming, intellegent. We live 4800 miles apart but I've never felt so close to another spirit. Our romance started in our heads at first, and we became close friends. We spent hours talking to each other every day both on the phone and online, laughing and crying, arguing and playing. Soon we found our relationship blossoming into a special cerebral love. A close important understanding as to what we wanted, what our dreams were, what we believed in. We worked through our relationship with the distance acting like our own chaperone.
We finally met around Easter. All our lingering doubts and concerns as to whether what we were thinking was actually real vanished in the first moments of our meeting. As I walked towards her the lady on customs told me "shes been waiting over there for a while, and shes very nervous!", I barely heard her. I knew as my heart exploded with love that this was the woman I would marry. Over the next few weeks I met her family, all of which seemed to like me well enough and all of which knew by the way we were together that this was the real thing. Its odd how it seems so obvious to them having seen us together, and how difficult it is for people over here who havent.
By the end of the trip we were both planning our big day, but since that day I find myself constantly facing brick walls. Most appear to be just plain bad luck, but you cant help but wonder if god himself isnt trying to say something.
Firstly, since I returned back home from the states, I have had car trouble. Not little bits of car trouble, but great mountains of car trouble. I have had to fork out over £1000 on it since Easter. Now this is on a car, that if I were to sell right now, would only go for about £1000. If it wasnt a taxi, and if I wasnt planning to leave the country next year, i might just think to hell with it, and get another job.
In fact, that is exactly what I would have done this time last year, when the car I bought for £4k the year previously decided to cough and splutter on me. I took it to my Vauxhall Dealership who told me it was a problem that would cost me £800. Ok, i thought, thats expensive, but its just about worth it. I got a cab and paid my hard earned cash over to their desk. The VERY next day the same mechanic told me they had spotted another problem and this one would cost another £1000. If I had known the repairs would cost £1800, i wouldnt have bothered. So now im stuck... pay £1000 and get my repaired car, or lose my £800, AND my car.
So now to have yet ANOTHER massive expense is pushing me towards despair.
Then there is me... I gave up smoking in October because my girl is asthmatic. I loved smoking, and not a day goes by without me wanting a cigarette, but despite this I knew I could save money, and I wouldnt kill my girl when I finally get to be with her. I started to take regular exercise in June. I swam two sometimes three times a week, and I took up Badminton. Now I have snapped my achilles tendon, and I cannot work for two months minimum.
It was only the second time I went.
You may say that I tried to do too much too early, you may say that if she really loved you she wouldnt make you do these things. She didnt make me. I made me... I made a decision. I have always been overweight, and happy with it too. I have never found a skinny body very attractive, and so never really aspired to be like that. I was also not very talented in sports and so rarely strived to get fit. I have always been happy enough.
The one time I decided that I would lose weight was when I lived with my best friend Steven. I had broken up with my first important love and was very depressed. We lived on the edge of town, and I found that I could run at night when no-one saw me, or heard me more importantly. I decided I would go a certain distance, and if I got tired I would walk a little, but the distance would be covered... twice a week. It took me aound 45 mins at first, but I got it down to 30. I found myself changing diet automatically. I just didnt want the sandwich or the chips, instead I had more energy overall. I went out more and was much more confident and friendly. I enjoyed it, but things change. Work got busier, we moved out of the flat, and I found a new girlfriend. Times change, and I had lost all inclination.
I never felt so inclined to improve my health until now. And just like the smoking, I just did it. When I make a decision to change for the rest of your life, you want it to start straight away, so I started swimming. I knew the weight loss would come eventually, but week after week of not getting anywhere made me want to step things up a gear. So I started playing badminton, a sport I love. The first session nearly killed me, I was stiff from head to toe for 5 days! I was walking around like Frankenstein, but I loved it... I knew it had made a real difference and I also knew that I wouldnot give in, never give in. The second session, my tendon goes.
It felt like something snapped. It popped like bubble wrap, and I was on the floor. I expected more pain, in fact at first I had in my head one of those pictures you see of footballers with broken legs, but after the initial shock... i nearly fainted thinking I had ruined any chance of being with my girl... I was able to get up and hobble to my car. It was after a week that I finally decided I ought to see a doc. Since then its been plaster for two weeks, and now this stupid boot for what may be another 8 weeks.
In the states, my girl has had trouble herself. I wont tell you about it on here as its not my place to mention it, but I can guarantee you, you would consider it very unlucky also. Thank god her health isnt suffering (i am knocking on wood as I say that)
We had planned to marry in May next year. All things had to do was to stay the same.
Now we discuss things with such sadness, as we havent got a clue how to plan anything when you simply dont know where the next disaster is going to come from. She tells me all the time that I should just pack up my stuff and go, but I just cant. And just when you need the person who you love by your side, both of us find ourselves alone.
I dont know what to do for the best. For someone who has always had a plan, Im lost and for the first time scared that we may never get to be with eachother.
As I think about it. About how easy it would be to give up. How everything and everyone is telling me not to be hasty, to reconsider, to take my time. I think about God, and I think about determinism. We often get the two mixed up. If you believe in God, a christian god, then you believe we all have choices. The choice to do good, the choice to follow Jesus, the choice to believe, by the same reasoning we have the choice to turn our backs on God. God gave us his son so the christians say, to show us the way. So we know there is no extra help coming from him.
I am always reminded of the bible story about the prodigal son. In the story a farmer has two sons, the younger of which demands to have his inheritance early. The farmer reluctantly gives it and the son travels into the city where he wastes his money on "riotous living"... my fathers favourite phrase... eventually he returns home to his dad who greets him with open arms.
The story is specifically a parable about returning to the faith, but its also about choices. In it the son has clearly chosen to live his own life and make his own decisions, a theme often reitterated in the bible. He eventually returns home, having chosen that life working for his father as a slave is preferable to living on the streets. As I look around in my life though, I wonder where my choices are, when so much goes wrong, and so many things get in your way to stop you from making the one choice you have decided upon.
I have heard it said so many times that God works in mysterious ways. Its why he takes innocent children in volcanos and earthquakes they say. It why he allows so many to die in Africa through drought and disease, and maybe its why he is stopping me from being with my true love.
Alternatively, we sometimes call this fate, determinism or destiny. It basically says that what will be will be, after all... if this is so hard then surely it cant be right. That just like the water that finds the path of least resistance to maintain the optimum efficiency of energy usage, so we should find the path thats easiest for us. When I fell in love with this wonderful woman I found it to be the easiest thing I had ever done. Doesnt that count for anything? isnt that my fate?
I feel desperate and defeated right now. I feel lost and alone and confused. And the only thing I know is that I am happiest when I am with her. I cannot believe that God conspires against me like an evil jealous zealot. If that is who God is then I dont want to know him, and likewise I cant believe we are destined to be apart like some shakespearian tragedy. We must find a way, have to find a way.
Because tomorrow, I will get up, and I will go downstairs and I will face my day knowing that the only chance, the only reason for me to be there at all is because of her.
And no God, and no Fate is going to stop me. You wanna see determinism. Its right here, facing you down and telling you "I will never give up"
Thursday, 2 October 2008
My catch up
It has been some time and I have plenty of irrelevant things to say, so where to begin.
Firstly, I have bought myself a set of Bongos, now even though I cant play them to any extent, other that bashing them semi-rhythmically along to Rolling Stones numbers, I do intend to be a bongo afficianado by the end of next year, headlining at the Garden (obviously I mean my parents garden, not madison square)
Secondly, I caught a rather painful ear infection which left me nearly totally deaf. In fact my right ear still has some blocked fluid and so i still jump a mile when my flattie creeps up on me on that side.
I have been staying off myspace, not because I am being mean, but simply cos i have too much on my plate recently. For that I apologise. And I will endeavour to do better in the future.
Thats it for now, cos i am uninspired at the mo, but I promise to write more soon.
See ya's
Firstly, I have bought myself a set of Bongos, now even though I cant play them to any extent, other that bashing them semi-rhythmically along to Rolling Stones numbers, I do intend to be a bongo afficianado by the end of next year, headlining at the Garden (obviously I mean my parents garden, not madison square)
Secondly, I caught a rather painful ear infection which left me nearly totally deaf. In fact my right ear still has some blocked fluid and so i still jump a mile when my flattie creeps up on me on that side.
I have been staying off myspace, not because I am being mean, but simply cos i have too much on my plate recently. For that I apologise. And I will endeavour to do better in the future.
Thats it for now, cos i am uninspired at the mo, but I promise to write more soon.
See ya's
Sunday, 31 August 2008
Gigging
This Blog has been a long time coming, but a few of you have been enquiring as to why i have been achy.
Dorchester, my home own is a small place, not much happens. Its predominantly elderly, and has the nightlife of a cemetary, but every now and then something interesting happens... I was hoping to get you some actual pictures of the melee that happened last Monday (bank Holiday), but as ever something goes wrong, and so they will have to stay on my phone for a little while. The concert held in our roman ampitheatre was totally free and attended by some 1000 people all bringing their picnics and dancing shoea.
There were 6 bands in all, but I shall only mention two, first my unbelievably talented friends Nina and Ben who play fiddle as good as any pro in the band Jigsaw, and the astounding Joey the Lips.
I had a girlfriend who used to enjoy going to a village pub once a month to watch the folk jamming sessions there. The band The Sydling Stompers would organise the variety of different acts that would sing a song or two, before passing on the baton. The stompers were basically a family, consisting of Mum Lynnes, Dad John and son and daughter, Ben and Nina, Ben was already a huge talent when i first saw him aged 15, but Nina was th star in the making, aged 9 she would sing like a bird and her fiddling was nearly as good as her older brother already.
Now some 20 years later, both have had their successes, but are thankfully both in the local area playing in Bens band Jigsaw, and they are fantastic. I could wax lyrical about them but I really dont need to, firstly because you will probably never see them, and two cos there are few things more dull than people going on and on about how great their musical friends are.
So I shall move quickly on to Joey the Lips
They play Blues, rhythm and blues and soul, and they are fantastic. I had never heard of them before, but they blew me and all 1000 people away. We danced the entire set of Soul classics, and sang til our hearts were content. My personal highlights were 'Love Shack' and the karaoke version of 'Dont Stop Me Now', I say karaoke version, because they didnt sing it, we did! The entire crowd. They didnt sing a note. A new step in concerts, pick any song the crowd might know, and just play backing, whilst your audience sings as badly and as loudly as they could possibly want.
I had no voice, and I felt like someone had borrowed my legs to practice riverdancing with their irish friends.
I had a fab time.
Nuff said.
Friday, 8 August 2008
Talk about luck
Once again I can tell you I have had a second disaster free week! Yay!
And despite my bad luck taking me from one nightmare to the next so far this year, I have to tell you that my luck is still not as bad as some. I am not refering to the guy who lost his leg in a lawn bowling accident, or the lady who has her back put out slipping on the hoover lead. I am refering to my good friend Rae.
Now not many people have had such a constantly bad run of luck, its hard to know where to start if truth be told, but I met Rae about 5 years ago. She knew i had finished my job at the clothes warehouse and offered me her taxi to run on the days she wasnt. I accepted and became a cabbie to the stars.
About 3months after that i bought my first cab and ran it happily for about 2 years. Rae however did not.
She was driving the xantia to town, and found a suitable parking spot. She turned off the engine, the suspension went down (as they do in citroens) and the bonnet crumpled. She tells me she watched the whole thing in slow motion. A bit like a monster trying to get out of a steal cage, think 'Resident Evil', his pistol thingy finally made it free.
Not undaunted, she decided to go for bust. She bought two cars, a Mondeo which she kindly leant to a friend, for a small weekly fee, and a London Black Cab (£16K from Cabs Direct, an HP firm)
Clearly Cab Direct had not looked at the vehicle, as it was filthy inside when she received it, the ashtray hadn't even been emptied. She had the vehicle a full two weeks before the automatic gearbox went whilst picking up a customer. Fortunately for her the customers were too drunk to notice the 15mile journey took them 30 minutes.
After complaining to the firm, she recieved a 7 seater. Now they had at least taken the trouble to clean this one, and fit a number of repairs before giving her the vehicle, including the Cam belt. They didnt change the Water Pump however, which when it went tore right through the Cam belt, which in turn ripped through the engine. When the AA repair man turned up, she said either your cam belts gone, or your car swallowed a cat!
Well, naturally with all this bad luck and with Cabs Direct demanding their money she reclaimed the Mondeo, only to discover an electrical fault. £600 later and no-one had a clue as to what it was. At that point she gave up the ghost and declared herself bankrupt, no longer able to sue Cabs Direct for their mess ups... well she could but she wont get a penny from it. All this was just 2 weeks after her last payment on the vehicle
She then started working for a taxi-cab firm in town, borrowing a Xsara. This is an extremely unprofitable thing to do, as instead of paying a one-off charge, you hand 50% of all your earnings to the cab firm. That one broke down at Bournemouth Airport with passengers waiting to go home. It went to the doctors and the car and the cab firm have never been seen since.
Now, today she tells me she has had an accident involving a Milk tanker. The lanes in our countryside are tight , and whilst no-one was at fault, Raes car looks like being a write off, the amount of damage to the Milk tanker... nothing!
I should take solice that no matter how bad my luck can get, I will never have as much bad luck as Rae has had in the last 5 years.
The real lesson to us all though, is that despite this terrible run, she still smiles and laughs everyday. And can still take me from being depressed to being in hysterics in 5 seconds flat. I'm so sorry for you mate, but thank you for being my friend.
And despite my bad luck taking me from one nightmare to the next so far this year, I have to tell you that my luck is still not as bad as some. I am not refering to the guy who lost his leg in a lawn bowling accident, or the lady who has her back put out slipping on the hoover lead. I am refering to my good friend Rae.
Now not many people have had such a constantly bad run of luck, its hard to know where to start if truth be told, but I met Rae about 5 years ago. She knew i had finished my job at the clothes warehouse and offered me her taxi to run on the days she wasnt. I accepted and became a cabbie to the stars.
About 3months after that i bought my first cab and ran it happily for about 2 years. Rae however did not.
She was driving the xantia to town, and found a suitable parking spot. She turned off the engine, the suspension went down (as they do in citroens) and the bonnet crumpled. She tells me she watched the whole thing in slow motion. A bit like a monster trying to get out of a steal cage, think 'Resident Evil', his pistol thingy finally made it free.
Not undaunted, she decided to go for bust. She bought two cars, a Mondeo which she kindly leant to a friend, for a small weekly fee, and a London Black Cab (£16K from Cabs Direct, an HP firm)
Clearly Cab Direct had not looked at the vehicle, as it was filthy inside when she received it, the ashtray hadn't even been emptied. She had the vehicle a full two weeks before the automatic gearbox went whilst picking up a customer. Fortunately for her the customers were too drunk to notice the 15mile journey took them 30 minutes.
After complaining to the firm, she recieved a 7 seater. Now they had at least taken the trouble to clean this one, and fit a number of repairs before giving her the vehicle, including the Cam belt. They didnt change the Water Pump however, which when it went tore right through the Cam belt, which in turn ripped through the engine. When the AA repair man turned up, she said either your cam belts gone, or your car swallowed a cat!
Well, naturally with all this bad luck and with Cabs Direct demanding their money she reclaimed the Mondeo, only to discover an electrical fault. £600 later and no-one had a clue as to what it was. At that point she gave up the ghost and declared herself bankrupt, no longer able to sue Cabs Direct for their mess ups... well she could but she wont get a penny from it. All this was just 2 weeks after her last payment on the vehicle
She then started working for a taxi-cab firm in town, borrowing a Xsara. This is an extremely unprofitable thing to do, as instead of paying a one-off charge, you hand 50% of all your earnings to the cab firm. That one broke down at Bournemouth Airport with passengers waiting to go home. It went to the doctors and the car and the cab firm have never been seen since.
Now, today she tells me she has had an accident involving a Milk tanker. The lanes in our countryside are tight , and whilst no-one was at fault, Raes car looks like being a write off, the amount of damage to the Milk tanker... nothing!
I should take solice that no matter how bad my luck can get, I will never have as much bad luck as Rae has had in the last 5 years.
The real lesson to us all though, is that despite this terrible run, she still smiles and laughs everyday. And can still take me from being depressed to being in hysterics in 5 seconds flat. I'm so sorry for you mate, but thank you for being my friend.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
A week to remember
Well, its been another awful week. This year is definitely having its ups and downs... but I am writing this to prove a point... About being positive... partly for you but mostly for me... Anyhow..
Firstly, as you know my cab which is the focus of much amusement has been poorly. I bought the thing for £4000 March last year, and it has served me well, but there was a grinding noise that came from under the bonnet (hood) and so the doctor was called in.
At first i was informed it was the fly wheel, now i havent a clue what a fly wheel is, but im guessing my car needs one, and my friend the mechanic told me you dont replace a fly wheel without replacing a clutch.. he suggested the price would be around £1000. I dont have £1000 lying around, so it took alot of begging to scrape up the money. One of the conditions to the begging though, was to go to the Vauxhall dealer.
They're pretty good over there, so I wasnt too bothered, and when they rang me with the news that both my timing chains had gone and needed to be replaced for the sum of £750, i was relieved. They informed me that i needed a new starter motor as well at the price of £125... both handlable!
The very next day however, they told me that the fly wheel and clutch both needed to be replaced as well! After a serious amount of negotiations and apologies from the garage my final price was £1625. Shit!
So more begging. And they have had my car for 4 days so far. Thats 4 days of not working, not that those days are busy days, but... and when they finally give it back to me, they have done something to my taxi meter. I now have to drive 25 miles tomorrow morning (missing work tonight) to get it fixed!
Next my father who I love desperately, had a fall. He's had a heart attack before and I was very worried about him. The doc says it might be a mini stroke following the insertion of his pacemaker... Mum is pulling her hair out, and i'm not surprised... They fight like cats and dogs most of the time, but when you see them so fragile, thats when the real love comes through. Those tender moments, touching hands and sitting with each other in the dark.
Anyhow, on Monday morning at about 7am, she called me panicing about dad... I went over straight away, even though i had spent the night chatting to a couple of friends online. As we waited for the doc to turn up, I sat through my mum having what could only be described as a mini breakdown, at first she was ranting about how she couldnt handle looking after him, but it ended up with her crying on me because just the thought of him hurting was crushing her.
The doc didnt turn up til 1 and then mum was out the door for some tablets. She looked awful but not as bad as she did on tuesday. 36 hrs of not sleeping can do that, she was also starting to develop a fever. I stayed with them both, and mum got a little sleep.
Wednesday as I was getting the £750 news, mum looked terrible and dad was still dizzy on his feet. They booked the docs again for the next day.... Today.
So I turn up around 1pm... Sorry to Amanda, I left MSN on last night by mistake, when i woke up my head was on the laptop... For the first hour i had keyboard marks on my face, and the second hour was spent trying to dry the whole thing out from the dribble.
Dad had gone to the doctors in the morning, and was told about the possibility of the mini stroke, and how more tests were needed. Mum however was due to go to the hospital for some erm tests... She was carefully instructed by the NHS to drink 2.5 pints of water and not to visit the bathroom for 8 hrs before she turned up. Well, my mum is a little anal about this sort of stuff and drank tea with abandon last night and this morning, she also didn't visit the bathroom for a good 20 hrs when it was time for her to go.
She gave me absolutely loads of instructions which basically consisted of dont let dad do anything, but if he wants to move about and do things then let him.... my mum has her confusing moments... especially when she is tired and rough. She finally dashed out the door... im guessing with something that has wings between her legs...lol
Anyhow dad and i sit and chat for a bit, and 45 mins later mum is back. she throws me the keys and tells me to park the car, then she runs in to see dad sat on the couch watching cookery programmes.
She then tells us, how with all the drinking, and the not going to the loo, and the fact she hates public toilets (has a real phobia of them), she went to the nurse, who told her the appointment wasnt til tomorrow!
My dad and I burst into laughter.
Then she began to laugh.
Ever laughed hard when you want the loo?
My mum ran as fast as she could!!!
My mum has little legs.
We laughed even harder.
So with that in mind, and what a crap week its been, I am pleased that I had a moment to focus on something genuinely funny.
I really hope you all have a good day today, and know that no matter how down things can get, life will always throw something funny from left field to make you smile.
Firstly, as you know my cab which is the focus of much amusement has been poorly. I bought the thing for £4000 March last year, and it has served me well, but there was a grinding noise that came from under the bonnet (hood) and so the doctor was called in.
At first i was informed it was the fly wheel, now i havent a clue what a fly wheel is, but im guessing my car needs one, and my friend the mechanic told me you dont replace a fly wheel without replacing a clutch.. he suggested the price would be around £1000. I dont have £1000 lying around, so it took alot of begging to scrape up the money. One of the conditions to the begging though, was to go to the Vauxhall dealer.
They're pretty good over there, so I wasnt too bothered, and when they rang me with the news that both my timing chains had gone and needed to be replaced for the sum of £750, i was relieved. They informed me that i needed a new starter motor as well at the price of £125... both handlable!
The very next day however, they told me that the fly wheel and clutch both needed to be replaced as well! After a serious amount of negotiations and apologies from the garage my final price was £1625. Shit!
So more begging. And they have had my car for 4 days so far. Thats 4 days of not working, not that those days are busy days, but... and when they finally give it back to me, they have done something to my taxi meter. I now have to drive 25 miles tomorrow morning (missing work tonight) to get it fixed!
Next my father who I love desperately, had a fall. He's had a heart attack before and I was very worried about him. The doc says it might be a mini stroke following the insertion of his pacemaker... Mum is pulling her hair out, and i'm not surprised... They fight like cats and dogs most of the time, but when you see them so fragile, thats when the real love comes through. Those tender moments, touching hands and sitting with each other in the dark.
Anyhow, on Monday morning at about 7am, she called me panicing about dad... I went over straight away, even though i had spent the night chatting to a couple of friends online. As we waited for the doc to turn up, I sat through my mum having what could only be described as a mini breakdown, at first she was ranting about how she couldnt handle looking after him, but it ended up with her crying on me because just the thought of him hurting was crushing her.
The doc didnt turn up til 1 and then mum was out the door for some tablets. She looked awful but not as bad as she did on tuesday. 36 hrs of not sleeping can do that, she was also starting to develop a fever. I stayed with them both, and mum got a little sleep.
Wednesday as I was getting the £750 news, mum looked terrible and dad was still dizzy on his feet. They booked the docs again for the next day.... Today.
So I turn up around 1pm... Sorry to Amanda, I left MSN on last night by mistake, when i woke up my head was on the laptop... For the first hour i had keyboard marks on my face, and the second hour was spent trying to dry the whole thing out from the dribble.
Dad had gone to the doctors in the morning, and was told about the possibility of the mini stroke, and how more tests were needed. Mum however was due to go to the hospital for some erm tests... She was carefully instructed by the NHS to drink 2.5 pints of water and not to visit the bathroom for 8 hrs before she turned up. Well, my mum is a little anal about this sort of stuff and drank tea with abandon last night and this morning, she also didn't visit the bathroom for a good 20 hrs when it was time for her to go.
She gave me absolutely loads of instructions which basically consisted of dont let dad do anything, but if he wants to move about and do things then let him.... my mum has her confusing moments... especially when she is tired and rough. She finally dashed out the door... im guessing with something that has wings between her legs...lol
Anyhow dad and i sit and chat for a bit, and 45 mins later mum is back. she throws me the keys and tells me to park the car, then she runs in to see dad sat on the couch watching cookery programmes.
She then tells us, how with all the drinking, and the not going to the loo, and the fact she hates public toilets (has a real phobia of them), she went to the nurse, who told her the appointment wasnt til tomorrow!
My dad and I burst into laughter.
Then she began to laugh.
Ever laughed hard when you want the loo?
My mum ran as fast as she could!!!
My mum has little legs.
We laughed even harder.
So with that in mind, and what a crap week its been, I am pleased that I had a moment to focus on something genuinely funny.
I really hope you all have a good day today, and know that no matter how down things can get, life will always throw something funny from left field to make you smile.
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
The Funniest Thing I Ever Did See
The Funniest Thing I Ever Did See
Category: Life
Now, I apologise if I have told you this before, but I absolutely love this story, and my friend Alice reminded me of it today.
About three years ago, I had just started Cabbie-ing, and I was driving down the high street at midday. The roads were chock-a-block with cars taking people away from the torrential downpour in our little town centre.
I was waiting for the traffic lights to change again, so far in the previous 10 minutes I had moved just one car length, so as my mind started to wander onto other things I noticed an elderly couple standing under an umberella by the bus stop. I say bus stop as there was no shelter, which on this particular day was very unfortunate.
She was a short lady, and clearly in charge, but things had not gone her way this afternoon, as the small umberella she was holding had turned inside out in the gusty wind. She hung onto it regardless taking whatever cover she could from the torrent of water cascading from the angry grey skies.
He was much taller than she was, and looked uncomfortable in his smart clothes, an although he wore a small flat cap and a raincoat, he was still bent over backwards trying to get his head under the low umbrella.
Now its important to tell you that It really was very rainy that day. Very rainy indeed.
And the umbrella was the wrong way round.
Collecting Rain.
Getting Heavy.
Getting very heavy.
And then...... all of a sudden... it wasnt!
The old man leapt in the air as the entire pool of collected rainwater poured down his back.
I am so sorry, but I laughed so hard i nearly crashed the car.
Monday, 7 July 2008
The Meerkats of Minehead
Now I'm not going to tell you which Myspacer I went to Tropiquaria with today, but I am going to tell you she was a big girls blouse.
Tropiquaria is a little hands-on zoo near Minehead, and its great fun.
They pride themselves on letting people get very close to the animals, and giving them a personal experience. As an example you can get very close to the ring tailed lemurs, in fact so close, that one of the babies can escape and look at you from the outside (Dont worry, this is normal. His name is Jasper, and he never goes far from mum), he was leaping by my ears with his little bit of apple held tightly in his tiny claw.
When I turned around, however, to tell my friend about it, she had gone about 30 feet away, running for her life.
Much the same thing happened when we passed the Lizard cage that was open. She was dust. The Lizard, Michael, however was not so scared, and let me stroke him a little before going back to his basking... The keeper told me he loves it. How the hell would she know? Its a Lizard! It just sits there. It sat there before I stroked it, it sat there after I stroked it... its a lizard... how on earth is it suppose to express happiness? Throw a party!
Then another keeper brought a boa constrictor round, but would he let me stroke it! Not a chance... the kids were fine, but me... not a hope in hell. Tell me again why the adult price is more expensive than the kiddie price! What the hell is that about?
Then George came out. He was gorgeous. A tortoise about 4 ft long when he stretches. He loves bright colours and loves peoples bright shoes... And wouldnt you believe it, yes she had bright shoes and poor old Gerald went a running... now we have to be talking a good 1mph, but still it was enough for her to freeze solid. Lol.
Still she did overcome her fear, and give George a little stroke..... eventually. Tortoises have cool feet... I like em. They have tropical birds pooing overhead, just flying about. George's keeper told me one of them ate one of the tropial fish that swim in the canal around the inside of the building. It can only happen near the waterfall area, but what do you expect!
All in all, the place is fantastic, albeit quite small. If you get the chance to support this little zoo, do it. Its surprisingly good fun, and is very real.
As for my friend... well, maybe next time we have a day out, we should find a nice beach with a tea room nearby.
Sunday, 6 July 2008
The Peculiar Episode of the Male Member
Did you know, there is only one muscle on the male body that is joined on one side only. I'll tell you which one a little later, but first I wanted to remind you of my first ever blog, which was all about my disgust at people urinating in the streets. Have they never been taught to go before they leave... I mean come on... how old are they!!
Anyhow, I was picking up a young lad from Wareham station on Friday. I should have guessed things would be a little different, as although it was only 4 in the afternoon, he asked me to pick him at the pub. He had turned up early and obviously found his place with a pint and a game of pool.
Our journey was lively as his happy mood was contageous, and we blasted Guns and Roses loudly as we could scaring crows and rabbits asunder. All of a sudden with a pained ailing expression, he turns the music off and croaks "Stop the Car!"
Now as a cabbie, when someone says "Stop the Car", you stop the car! Very very quickly, else you get a car full of his breakfast. I stopped the car.
He got out... Quickly.
He ran to a bush, and to my utter shock, unzipped his fly and began to pee.
For a second things went into slow-mo, the birds twittered, the wind breezed, the trees waved. And then I spotted the Farmer... and then I spotted the shot gun... and then I spotted the young lad running!
Thank god my engine turned on first time. Thank god I found a gear change quickly. Thank god I was wearing good pants!
Just for a tiny second I imagined leaving him there to face his maker, but whilst I hate peeing in the streets, I'm not sure its a shooting offense.
Once again, one of my 9 lives has been wasted on trivial things. I can just see St Peter at the gates of Heaven saying... You have got to be kidding... you were supposed to last til 90!
Anyhow. I am now starting a campaign to stop people Urinating in Public... What do we want... a piss..... where do we want it.... in a toilet!
I hope you will all support me on this and maybe give me a donation to go towards my world wide investigation into the subject.
Oh and by the way, the answer to my question at the begining was his tongue... you filthy people!
Monday, 30 June 2008
A Harem?
It has come to my attention, that some of you may be thinking I must obsessed with women.
I am, but no more than any other guy I know. However, two specific comments have been made, that I would very much like to address.
Firstly, the fact that most of my friends appear to be women is true, but not because I have been exclusively searching out women from across the globe to flirt with.... No, no, no, no, no!
I have believe it or not, been searching endlessly for guys too! However, men, as i'm sure you all know, are a bit wierd! I started off this thing by messaging randomly for 3 women and 3 men each week that peeked my interest. The men, however have either ignored my innocent messages, or at worst told me to go elsewhere in colourful language implying that I am homosexual. I have never seen this as a dating site, however clearly their own sexuality must be in question if they cant make friends with a guy. Im sure if I had breasts, they would have responded in droves.
I have never understood this rather sexist ideal that men have. After all it is relatively easy to make friends with guys down the bar (unless there is a woman with them... duh!!!). Online however it appears to be close to an impossibilty, well for me at least. For that I think you should all send my good friend Josh a hello, he may be religious, but he is the only guy that responded in the spirit intended.
I have had a friends request through from a guy in bournemouth, but as I have a policy of never accepting a friends request unless there is a message to go with it... well I refused it (but not until I sent him a message saying why! I mean come-on, how fair can I be!)
So, with that done, I move on to something which has caused somewhat of a stir amongst all you myspace friends... My ex's.
It has been mentioned to me that placing my ex's on the pics is kind of like showing off, that its intimidating and a little wierd. Hmmm, maybe.
The thing is, I wanted to put my life on here, and bearing in mind that these woman shaped part of my life, the directions I travelled in, the life I was leading etc etc, it seems totally insane to leave them out. I have pictures of my nephews on here, and I have spent considerably less time with them.
Can you imagine a biography of Tom Cruise that didn't mention Nicole, or one of Brad that didnt mention Jennifer, or one of Colin Farrell that didn't mention... well everyone!
No, and thats because they're important. After all would Tom Cruise have made Vanilla Sky, if Penelope hadn't made the original? Would Ben Affleck made Gigli... actually he might have, but you can see my point!
Women are very much a part of my life, and so they should take the stage as much as my new flattie and my brother. May I suggest that you only consider it wierd because, you yourself have chosen to try and forget those times spent. I cannot, because they were all good times, and in the true spirit of positivity, I should hang on to those moments and keep them in my scrapbook of life.
I would suggest that those of you that find it intimidating only do because they are nice photos. Trust me... they are the best of literally thousands. I love taking snapshots, and almost all get thrown away. If you had thousands of photos of yourself, you would find one or two really good ones too.
There might be some of you that consider it morose or mean even, perhaps they dont want their pics on myspace. Well yes that could be true, after all, some didnt end very well, and I appreciate the insensitivity of that, but it's my life too, and they were a part of it. It is why I have only picked out the best of the flattering ones.
Finally, if I am so proud of my past, then why have I not put them for everyone to see... Another good point. I guess because my last relationship finished so recently, and is still quite sore, especially as her dad is a complete arse, that I felt it best not to aggravate too much. I do intend to open it up in time, jus not yet.
Okay, I hope that explains a little of my reasoning. As always I am very open for criticism (as I often deserve it), but I would prefer it to be constructive, and preferably more than 2 words, but I continue to promise not to block anything negative, although you have been kind enough to be supportive. I would actually love to have a few negative comments once in a while. It makes for a lot of fun.
Hope to be chatting to you soon
Eggy
Monday, 23 June 2008
Getting on
So Im driving back from Wareham, open road ahead of me, sun beating down on my shoulders, arm out the window and music blaring out loudly, when Against All Odds comes on the CD.
I start to blast out my dulcet tones as loud as i'm able when he sings "And you coming back to me, is against the odds". With a sudden lurch my voice grinds to a halt.
I realise in horror that I can no longer reach the high notes! Now I know that my smoking has put pay to my headlining at the Apollo, but until that point I still thought I had a shot of a round of applause at the local Karaoke bar. Now the only people liable to pay to hear me sing is my mum and the Hand Bags and Bonnets Society, at the Village Hall, and quite honestly... they're a tough crowd. I dropped a ventriloquist down there a few weeks back, only to find his puppet in shreads and half his trousers ripped off when I picked him up.
Apparently they thought Billy Banger and his Marvellous Monkey was a very different show to the one he was expecting to put on.
I accept that my voice no longer kicks ass as it once did, and that I am no longer a british rival to Bill Withers. It is the fact that depressingly, rather like a dying star getting sucked up into a black hole, I am heading mercilessly into middle age.
Let me give you the best example I can think of. I have a craving to hold a dinner party!
I know
As if its not bad enough that my cooking genes clearly came from my father, and that asking me to cook a three course meal is akin to asking Sweeney Todd for a crew cut, but I am actually thinking it might be fun to play trivial persuit afterwards!
I think back to the days when a great night out was about walking into a bar so tightly packed that skipjack tuna couldn't have done better. Getting a pint thrown over your newly ironed shirt as you wrestle to the bar. Being ignored by the spotty teenager, who is only serving his friends and big breasted women called Sharon. Then its off to a club where the floor is stickier than the glasses, where the toilet runs around the block, where the music is louder than a demolition crew, where the drinks cost more than the nose cone of the space shuttle.
You leave the club for an oily kebab, only to spill chilli sauce down your trousers, making it look like you've soiled yourself. Make it back to the flat, preferably with a semi comatosed leaning post next to you. A quick chat to God on the big white telephone in the toilet then its crawling into bed to attempt an ascent of the sleeping camel that has stolen most of your bed and all of your duvet.
Great Night!
Its not just Nights out though. I drive slower now, No longer the Michael Schumaker that raced through the streets, tearing through red lights, and revving up infront of pretty girls. I have stuff now, wooden statues of african conga drummers that remind me of a time when I didnt care about african conga drummers, Pictures of Nephews that I havent seen for three years.
And then theres friends.
There was a time when finding a new supply of friends was as easy as it is now to find your local drug dealer, but as time goes on and people drift apart, you find yourself left with a very comfortable set of close and very lovable friends that given the opportunity you would rather text than talk to in person.
I think as the sun sets on my younger days, and I enter the quagmire of midddle ages, I may have just one or two adventures left before I start using my real name at hotels, or mow the lawn in lines, or actually compare the prices of wine at the shops, or buy a spreadsheet newspaper, or think that £15 is an excellent price for entrance to the Dinosaur Museum.
Maybe just one more adventure.
Thursday, 19 June 2008
The Poo of Destiny
I recently sent this story to my charming friend Amanda. but it's good enough to blog, so...
I should tell you first, my college years were an adventure, from start to finish. I never graduated, but I fell in love and was such a romantic, that studying was totally left behind. Her name was Catheryn, she was short curvy, with a smile to die for and she laughed at anything. My kind o' gal!
I studied in Cardiff, South Wales. She was from North wales, so when she invited me and her best mate up north for the weekend to meet the family, I was very excited... ahh young love.
Well, we met mum and dad who were going away til Monday, and it was our charge to look after their 4 yappie dogs. They were to be put in the kitchen when we went out, so they didnt trash the place. That night, we went out to a local pub, where Catheryn got off with her old boyfriend, a guy who clearly was cooler and more heavily endowed than me. AND he had his own caravan, so good prospects all round. lol.
I spent half the night being miserable with her best friend, who I later found out fancied me rotten, in a park on the swings, not that I was ever interested in her except to get back at my now ex. When the two of us finally got back to the house sad and desperate, yes Catheryn had decided to spend the night a-rockin' and a-rollin' with the guy, clearly the unemployment benefits were enough for him to buy her as much canabis as she needed, anyway when Michelle (her mate) and I finally got back, we realised the dogs had not been shut away.
I noticed it first, as when I opened the living room door, the stench of dog poo hit me... I had squidged one under the door, but the entire room had been covered in little deposits.
Michelle carefully tiptoed to the kitchen and let the shamed pooches out the back garden, while I began filling a bucket and finding suitable kitchen towels to clear it up.
Once resolved, remember we were both tipsy anyway, we divvied up the poos, and began cleaning the carpet. As I had squidged the one under the door, that became my area, while michelle cleared the relatively easier ones by the tv.
After a few minutes I had got the hang of rolling the poos into the tissue in one piece, but the smell was unreal. Even though the windows were wide open, I was astonished. I never had dogs, so this was all new to me.
Once the squidged one was cleared, I looked behind the sofa and found another one. This was easily reachable, and so I swept it up in a fluid move, but there was yet another poo hiding in the shadows a little further behind. With a good bit of stretching I grabbed this one and cleaned the remaining mess, but I was starting to gag. Thats when I saw the big poo.
To this day I have no idea how so much poo comes out of just four tiny yappy dogs but there it was. One huge poo out of my reach. I had no choice. The sofa had to be moved...
Carefully Michelle checked that we wouldn't squidge any other rogue poos, before, whilst still on my hands and knees I pushed the couch from the wall.
That's when the true extent of the smell that had been building up behind the couch, like an octopus, hiding in the rocks, waiting for the right fish to strike at, hit me.
Bang
I was knocked out unconscious for a whole 3 minutes according to Michelle, who, in typical female fashion, instead of being concerned with my welfare and comatic state, was laughing herself to tears.
I'm not saying that all women are cruel and viscious vixens when it comes to mens misfortune, not at all. It is my experience that women can and often are very tender and sympathetic to the distress of men,
just not me!
Enough Said.
Saturday, 7 June 2008
Life with my flattie
So. One week gone, and here's my update...
Krispin, my flattie (find him on myfriends and abuse him as much as you want... no seriously, he likes it) is a pretty good laugh, although we have spent way too much time sitting on our easy chairs and watching DVD's rather than doing anything useful, like getting a pot so we can boil an egg.
The only thing is I cant help getting the feeling people might think, since we're two guys living together, with both of our names on every bill, that people might think, specially since I needed a mattress and he needed a bed, and the guy asked us how long we had been together, that people might think we're a little bit, since my friend PQ asked us when we were getting rings, that people might think we're a little bit, since his GF is miles away and I'm single, that people might think we're a little bit, since I'm on a fitness thing at the mo, and insist he goes swimming with me... Hang on, maybe I am a little bit.... Well i do like musicals!
Na!
My mum asked me if I was the other day. It scared me a little actually. When your mates take the mickey it's fair enough, but when your mum does!!!
Anyhow, the flat's fine, and looks great with no couch or table in it. My bedroom is a little wierd with no wardrobe, but you gotta love the space. We had a choice of a couch, a washing machine or a dirty great TV set. Needless to say our clothes will need a hammer by the end of the month.
And I have spent almost my entire time sitting on the balcony and watching the birds shit on my car, so thats nice!
All in all its been a really good laugh, except when he filmed me playing Guitar Hero, and put it on you tube.
Dont worry, I intend to seek my revenge... any ideas anyone?
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
A Change of Life Goals, Guitar Hero
So I went down to Weymouth to see my friend Animal today, and I was introduced to Guitar Hero.
For the life of me I have no idea what I have been doing with myself.
Obviously I have heard of the Guitar Hero phenomenon, girls claiming they scored a successful 85 concurrent notes, but I imagined it was a bit like the dance matts and the karaoke singing games. Now I have a soft spot for a little Karaoke singing when suitably imbibed with a laceration of alcohol. At times like that I have a tendancy to sing anyway, so grabbing a microphone in a pop idol styleee is perfectly acceptable, but singing at home to a plastic toy in front of 9 year olds is just not for me, and neither is trying to knock bubbles off the screen by pointing in the air like John Travolta, with an eye toy.
I didnt know!
To be honest, It isnt the first time I have watched a massive trend pass me by. I like to think of myself as so far behind fashion, that I'm retro. I still wear turn-ups, mind you I am short, lol.
This one however I had to try kicking and screaming, but despite an initial reservation of being downright awful at the plastic guitar thing complete with devil stickers and fluorescent straps, I found myself drawn to it like a teenager to a dark cellar in a horror movie.
As the beat hit me, I realised I am in fact Stevie Ray Vaughn's more attractive cuddly long lost brother. My incredibly durable career of taxi driving and the occasional space flight (just dont ask... very traumatic) may have to be forsaken for my budding music god status.
I strutted like Joe Strummer, I pogoed like Johnny Rotten, I went down on my knees and windmilled a la Pete Thownsend and yes I even played the thing with my teeth like Hendrix!
My flattie, nice person that he is, took the footage of me turning into a raving lunatic to the beat of 'schools out' and apparently will be selling it on e-bay next week.
After they pried 'my precious' from my vice like grip and sat me down with a wet towel and a bottle of Valium, I came to realise that this could well be my calling. I'm sorry guys but I have seen God, and her name is ACTIVISION!
If, like me, you have not been on the planet for the last 20 years, and have no idea whats so special about an iphone, or how to read a binary clock, or what you could possibly want a space invader door mat, or WHY ANY SANE PERSON WOULD NEED A GLOWFLOW TAP LIGHT WITH TEMPERATURE SENSOR, then please, take a chance with this ridiculous sounding game. Take a step into the unknown, lower your head and don the strap, hold the plastic phallus in both hands, and get ready when the drums start banging to Lick it like a Les Paul, Goose it like a Gibson, Abuse it like a Universe and F*** it like a Fender.
No rolling, Just Rock!
Sunday, 18 May 2008
Nuff Said, "Titanic"
Nooooo! why is it when I write a blog im happy with, my pc has a funny 5 mins!
Never mind. I shall try to recreate it another day, I will just ask one question before I head to bed after another long day.
In the film Titanic, has anyone ever noticed how Kate Winslet spends a good 5 mins telling Leo she wont let go, and then pries his dead hands from her grip!
Just saying, that aint right is it!
And then, she has the audacity to die at the end, and find herself back on the titanic, instead of the man she married and stayed with for 40 years!
Once again... not right!
I'm starting to get the impression there was a little poetic licence about that particular story!
Nuff said!
oh... except this is a relationship free blog. First one in ages!
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Moody
They know how I feel
Category: Music
I spend ages trying to write how I feel, and a friend gives me a cd from Nine Inch Nails and they say it all.
"Something I Can Never Have"
I still recall the taste of your tears.
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.
Scraping through my head 'till I don't want to sleep anymore.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I'm down to just one thing.
And I'm starting to scare myself.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have
You always were the one to show me how
Back then I couldn't do the things that I can do now.
This thing is slowly taking me apart.
Grey would be the color if I had a heart.
Come on tell me [chorus]
In this place it seems like such a shame.
Though it all looks different now,
I know it's still the same
Everywhere I look you're all I see.
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.
Come on tell me [chorus]
I just want something I can never have
"Terrible Lie"
Hey god, why are you doing this to me?
Am I not living up to what Im supposed to be?
Why am I seething with this animosity?
Hey god, I think you owe me a great big apology
Terrible lie
Terrible lie
Terrible lie
Terrible lie
Hey god, I really dont know what you mean.
Seems like salvation comes only in our dreams.
I feel my hatred grow all the more extreme.
Hey god, can this world really be as sad as it seems
[chorus]
Dont take it away from me.
I need someone to hold on to.
Dont take it away from me.
I need someone to hold on to
Hey god, theres nothing left for me to hide.
I lost my ignorance, security and pride.
Im all alone in a world you must despise.
Hey god, I believed that promises, your promises and lies
[chorus]
You made me throw it all away.
My morals left to decay.
How many you betray.
Youve taken everything
[chorus]
My head is filled with disease.
My skin is begging you please.
Im on my hands and knees
I want so much to believe.
Dont take it away from me.
I need someone to hold on to.
Dont take it away from me.
I need someone to hold on to
I give you everything.
My sweet everything
Hey god, I really dont know who I am.
In this world of piss
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