Twenty20 is back. As loud and as brash as ever. The Oval played host to The Surrey Brown Caps battling it out with the Sussex Sharks. This was a fitting occasion and venue for a Fields House school reunion. The attendees were Lawrence, Jon, Peter, James, Alex and myself. Or to be more accurate... Larry, The Incredible Ken Jon Peel, Lynch Mob, Bakes, Bri and Bazza.
This was the first time in nearly 11 years that we had been together as a group. We have seen each other before now, but never as an entirety. Amazing how easy it is to slip back as if we had never been away. Old jokes, old nicknames, reminiscing back to the days when we knew everything. Good times. I guess when you live in each others pockets for so long, practically 24/7, then you are bound to have a special bond.
I won't bore you with a detailed acccount of the match itself. Although Sussex did win handsomely (thankfully). Now, I am still not a huge fan of Twenty20. It is not quite cricket and you come away feeling slightly seedy. A bit like seeing the woman of your dreams walk past. A nice feeling, but would be much better if you were walking with her and holding her hand, if you catch my drift. Although in this instance, I paid little attention to the actual game as there was too much to talk about and catching up took preference.
Word of the Day: Er....er....Lethologica - the inability to remember the right word
Quote of the Day: 'The Bowler's Holding. The Batsman's Willey' - Brian Johnstone
Wednesday 27 May 2009
Hove (Brighton actually...) is where the heart is.
The Bank Holiday weekend, well, Saturday and half of Sunday was spent in God's own city. Tell-tale signs that suggest you have arrived in Brighton are men dressed as women, women dressed as men, a few punks left over from the 80s, hippies transported (miraculously) from the 60s with clothes made from hemp and hair congealed into one large blob and a mist of jostick smoke hovering, filling the nostrils.
Brighton was in partial recovery stage after a hectic month events and a massive influx of foreign bodies to the city. The Ladyboys of Bangkok have gathered up their feathers and made a dainty exit from the city; the giant inflatable cow (Udderbelly) has decamped to Southbank and the throngs of street acts have returned to their relative lives of normality.
A swift saunter through North Laine with Therese (old hand), Helen and Ruth (newcomers) was followed by some greasy fried food on the seafront. How very English! Without a chance to digest, we made a bee-line for the Palace Pier, although re-named Brighton Pier, by that shameless organisation, ironically named 'Noble'. It shall always be the Palace Pier! Helen wowed us all with a repetoire on the trampoline that would make Paula Radcliffe look lazy. No funfair/pier visit is complete without a ride on the ghost train. The scariest part is whether or not the cart will stay on the track as opposed to the polystyrene ghouls and plastic skeletons.
The sun was bathing us as we made our way over to the Fishing Museum to catch up with my old friend Alex, who has just returned from a jaunt in the Far East with a tan, albums full of photos and shingles. Good to catch up with the old boy. Followed by a brisk walk into Hove to inspect a mini-carnival. By this point, the fresh sea air, the heat and the mileage of our stroll began to take it's toll, we decided to head into the suburbs to Chez Baron.
A barbeque ensued, eventually, and the parents were graced with the presence of Therese, Helen and Ruth. As decreed by British Law (The Barbeque and Meteorology Act, 1793), the clouds moved in as soon as the BBQ was unveiled, but thankfully the rain held off.
We left at the right time. We battled our way to the station against a wave of daytrippers heading towards the beach. A lazy sunday, a quickfire picnic on Barnes Common and some frivolities with a cricket ball and frisbee (pleasantly) wasted much of the afternoon. A pleasant stroll along Southbank towards The Globe Theatre rounded things off nicely.
Home is where the heart is? Some people are lucky with where they are born. Some people are eager to escape. Some people never leave. I do miss Brighton, but I shall never regret leaving. I have made friends with people I never would have met if I hadn't hot footed it up to London. I will be back one day, but most satisfied to be one of the dreaded day-trippers that interrupt the lives of the Brighton natives for the forseeable future.
Word of the Day: Quibbleism - The act of beating around the bush
Quote of the Day: 'When there's nothing more to be said, he'll still be saying it' - Anon
Brighton was in partial recovery stage after a hectic month events and a massive influx of foreign bodies to the city. The Ladyboys of Bangkok have gathered up their feathers and made a dainty exit from the city; the giant inflatable cow (Udderbelly) has decamped to Southbank and the throngs of street acts have returned to their relative lives of normality.
A swift saunter through North Laine with Therese (old hand), Helen and Ruth (newcomers) was followed by some greasy fried food on the seafront. How very English! Without a chance to digest, we made a bee-line for the Palace Pier, although re-named Brighton Pier, by that shameless organisation, ironically named 'Noble'. It shall always be the Palace Pier! Helen wowed us all with a repetoire on the trampoline that would make Paula Radcliffe look lazy. No funfair/pier visit is complete without a ride on the ghost train. The scariest part is whether or not the cart will stay on the track as opposed to the polystyrene ghouls and plastic skeletons.
The sun was bathing us as we made our way over to the Fishing Museum to catch up with my old friend Alex, who has just returned from a jaunt in the Far East with a tan, albums full of photos and shingles. Good to catch up with the old boy. Followed by a brisk walk into Hove to inspect a mini-carnival. By this point, the fresh sea air, the heat and the mileage of our stroll began to take it's toll, we decided to head into the suburbs to Chez Baron.
A barbeque ensued, eventually, and the parents were graced with the presence of Therese, Helen and Ruth. As decreed by British Law (The Barbeque and Meteorology Act, 1793), the clouds moved in as soon as the BBQ was unveiled, but thankfully the rain held off.
We left at the right time. We battled our way to the station against a wave of daytrippers heading towards the beach. A lazy sunday, a quickfire picnic on Barnes Common and some frivolities with a cricket ball and frisbee (pleasantly) wasted much of the afternoon. A pleasant stroll along Southbank towards The Globe Theatre rounded things off nicely.
Home is where the heart is? Some people are lucky with where they are born. Some people are eager to escape. Some people never leave. I do miss Brighton, but I shall never regret leaving. I have made friends with people I never would have met if I hadn't hot footed it up to London. I will be back one day, but most satisfied to be one of the dreaded day-trippers that interrupt the lives of the Brighton natives for the forseeable future.
Word of the Day: Quibbleism - The act of beating around the bush
Quote of the Day: 'When there's nothing more to be said, he'll still be saying it' - Anon
Wednesday 20 May 2009
Heroes
Fear not. This entry will not be focused upon the American Drama 'Heroes', which stalled badly after the first series.
A new hero has emerged to our screens, giving us a brief respite from the depressing stories that plague our screens. Step forward Mr Joel Armstrong.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/cbbcnews/hi/newsid_8050000/newsid_8059200/8059294.stm
Perhaps hero is the wrong word to describe Mr Armstrong. Afterall, he did not fight his way into a burning building or rush across a battlefield, dodging bullets, to rescue an injured colleague. But what he did do was go out of his way to make a difference. Quite inconsequential, in the grander scheme of things, as the world would not stop spinning if the duck in question has lost her 'bunch' or 'flock'. But a valuable attitude to life and an important lesson nonetheless. I like to think I would care enough and do the same in the exact same situation.
I shall never forget the 3 C's that were drummed into my psyche at an early age. Care; Courtesy; and Commitment. Now this was a very old fashioned school with values set in the Middle Ages (I exaggerate) and a headmaster from around that time (I don't). We were taught many lessons in 'etiquette' such as 'Always hold the door open for a lady'. Thankfully we were an all boys school and there were precious few ladies, otherwise each door would have been jammed full of pupils trying to abide by this rule and we would never have got anything done.
I digress. What is a hero to you? A hero can be a Bona Fide person of great courage or simply someone that you want to live up to or admire deeply. I do think that term hero gets bandied about far too often (as I have just done!) in modern day society (ooh that makes me feel old).
You read about football heroes and their heroic performances, but it is what should be expected from them AND it is just a game of little meaning at the end of the day. I certainly would not abide by the quote from the late Bill Shankly: 'Football is not a matter of life and death. It is more important than that'. Certainly players are adored and worshipped, but why? Do they deserve it? I guess that everybody needs a hero of some sort, for a variety of reasons.
There are plenty of people that get on with everyday life and put in a 'heroic' performance without the commercial spin-offs and adulation of the public. Plenty of people that will forfeit much for the good of others with little recognition. Is it the recognition that makes it worthwhile or is it the sense of making a difference? Oh dear, I am losing my train of thought. Shifting 13 tonnes of soil (twice!) does that to you.
My heroes? That my friends (and family) is for another time.
Heather Small (of M People) has the right idea. 'You've gotta search for the hero inside yourself'.
Sorry for rambling on. It might make sense one day or after a few glasses of vino. I shall leave you with the usual and this classic...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vlFhKdRu5o
Swine Flu Watch: Discontinued. Life is too short (especially if one is infected).
Word of the Day: Illeist - one who refers to oneself in the third person (something Baz never does).
Quote of the Day: 'We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools' - (The late, great) Martin Luther King
I, thank you.
A new hero has emerged to our screens, giving us a brief respite from the depressing stories that plague our screens. Step forward Mr Joel Armstrong.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/cbbcnews/hi/newsid_8050000/newsid_8059200/8059294.stm
Perhaps hero is the wrong word to describe Mr Armstrong. Afterall, he did not fight his way into a burning building or rush across a battlefield, dodging bullets, to rescue an injured colleague. But what he did do was go out of his way to make a difference. Quite inconsequential, in the grander scheme of things, as the world would not stop spinning if the duck in question has lost her 'bunch' or 'flock'. But a valuable attitude to life and an important lesson nonetheless. I like to think I would care enough and do the same in the exact same situation.
I shall never forget the 3 C's that were drummed into my psyche at an early age. Care; Courtesy; and Commitment. Now this was a very old fashioned school with values set in the Middle Ages (I exaggerate) and a headmaster from around that time (I don't). We were taught many lessons in 'etiquette' such as 'Always hold the door open for a lady'. Thankfully we were an all boys school and there were precious few ladies, otherwise each door would have been jammed full of pupils trying to abide by this rule and we would never have got anything done.
I digress. What is a hero to you? A hero can be a Bona Fide person of great courage or simply someone that you want to live up to or admire deeply. I do think that term hero gets bandied about far too often (as I have just done!) in modern day society (ooh that makes me feel old).
You read about football heroes and their heroic performances, but it is what should be expected from them AND it is just a game of little meaning at the end of the day. I certainly would not abide by the quote from the late Bill Shankly: 'Football is not a matter of life and death. It is more important than that'. Certainly players are adored and worshipped, but why? Do they deserve it? I guess that everybody needs a hero of some sort, for a variety of reasons.
There are plenty of people that get on with everyday life and put in a 'heroic' performance without the commercial spin-offs and adulation of the public. Plenty of people that will forfeit much for the good of others with little recognition. Is it the recognition that makes it worthwhile or is it the sense of making a difference? Oh dear, I am losing my train of thought. Shifting 13 tonnes of soil (twice!) does that to you.
My heroes? That my friends (and family) is for another time.
Heather Small (of M People) has the right idea. 'You've gotta search for the hero inside yourself'.
Sorry for rambling on. It might make sense one day or after a few glasses of vino. I shall leave you with the usual and this classic...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vlFhKdRu5o
Swine Flu Watch: Discontinued. Life is too short (especially if one is infected).
Word of the Day: Illeist - one who refers to oneself in the third person (something Baz never does).
Quote of the Day: 'We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools' - (The late, great) Martin Luther King
I, thank you.
Sunday 17 May 2009
Nil point
Evening all,
The brave, the outlandish, the downright rubbish, the camp and the noble battled it out in style in Moscow for the esteemed title of 'Eurovision Champion 2009'. In the end, it was a fairytale for Norway's Alexander Rybak who marched onto glory with a record total of points, the baby-faced fiddler. A bit Cliff Richard-esque if you ask me, not that it is necessarily a bad thing. Unless one counts the impromptu rendition of 'Congratulations' at Wimbledon. Thank goodness they have finally built a roof over the court!
The political effect had been watered down as the vote was split in two. 50% public vote and 50% from an expert panel. Meaning that the misdemeanours of the UK, around the globe, had a lesser effect on our points tally and we ended up a satisfying fifth place. Even the appearance of Sir Lloyd-Webber was not enough to put off the voters.
Not long to go until I jet off to Selkirk for the annual (and prestigious) Common Riding. I knew I would be exposed to some horses (not in that sense!), but I did not realise that 'some horses' equates to roughly 400 hammering through the streets of Selkirk. If you have never seen a grown man cry then stick a horse in front of me. The (entirely) rational fear stems from an early encounter with a donkey who tried to nibble my leg and a bolshy mare in a field at school. We had running leagues and elf and safety did not permit us to run up the school drive, so we had to run the gauntlet in a field full of excitable horses who made chase. One did catch up with me, but I would rather not talk about it...
Apparently the purpose of the Selkirk Common Riding is to remember the young men who rode around their town’s boundaries checking for encroachments by neighbouring settlements. The job was one often brimming with danger, with risk of murder or kidnapping never far from the minds of those who ventured out - I hope they are a bit more receptive to visitors nowadays. It also remembers how after the disastrous Battle of Flodden Field whereby only one man from the town returned - bodes well with plenty of ladies to spare, in that case!
The men seperate from the women for long periods and gather in a large hall to consume copious amounts of Ale and are invited to sing to the gathering. I shall avoid singing 'Swing Low' or 'Jerusalem' for fear of being run out of town with pitchforks.
The brave, the outlandish, the downright rubbish, the camp and the noble battled it out in style in Moscow for the esteemed title of 'Eurovision Champion 2009'. In the end, it was a fairytale for Norway's Alexander Rybak who marched onto glory with a record total of points, the baby-faced fiddler. A bit Cliff Richard-esque if you ask me, not that it is necessarily a bad thing. Unless one counts the impromptu rendition of 'Congratulations' at Wimbledon. Thank goodness they have finally built a roof over the court!
The political effect had been watered down as the vote was split in two. 50% public vote and 50% from an expert panel. Meaning that the misdemeanours of the UK, around the globe, had a lesser effect on our points tally and we ended up a satisfying fifth place. Even the appearance of Sir Lloyd-Webber was not enough to put off the voters.
Not long to go until I jet off to Selkirk for the annual (and prestigious) Common Riding. I knew I would be exposed to some horses (not in that sense!), but I did not realise that 'some horses' equates to roughly 400 hammering through the streets of Selkirk. If you have never seen a grown man cry then stick a horse in front of me. The (entirely) rational fear stems from an early encounter with a donkey who tried to nibble my leg and a bolshy mare in a field at school. We had running leagues and elf and safety did not permit us to run up the school drive, so we had to run the gauntlet in a field full of excitable horses who made chase. One did catch up with me, but I would rather not talk about it...
Apparently the purpose of the Selkirk Common Riding is to remember the young men who rode around their town’s boundaries checking for encroachments by neighbouring settlements. The job was one often brimming with danger, with risk of murder or kidnapping never far from the minds of those who ventured out - I hope they are a bit more receptive to visitors nowadays. It also remembers how after the disastrous Battle of Flodden Field whereby only one man from the town returned - bodes well with plenty of ladies to spare, in that case!
The men seperate from the women for long periods and gather in a large hall to consume copious amounts of Ale and are invited to sing to the gathering. I shall avoid singing 'Swing Low' or 'Jerusalem' for fear of being run out of town with pitchforks.
Where was I? Ah, yes.
Swine Flu Watch: Nothing to report.
Quote of the Day: 'The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.' - Dolly Parton
Word of the Day: Tripudiate - to dance, skip or leap for joy.
Warning of the Day: Do not watch 'My Girl' with other people and have some tissues at the ready.
Thank you.
Thursday 14 May 2009
Er.....er....hmmmm....
A stuttering mumble and some indiscernible English passed my lips, earlier. When someone smiles at me and nods, I generally am quite capable of saying ‘Good Evening’. The smiler and nodder, in question, was Ray Stubbs. Ray Stubbs, I hear you say. All Sports fans will know that he has been hands on within the TV world of sports. A genuine nice guy amidst the 'job for the boys' bores that plague our screens. Whilst I enjoy his work and have granted him the term ‘legend’ in the past, he is by no means someone scary! Why could I not gather myself and wish him well on this balmy summers evening? What is it about celebrities/famous people that tend to affect your basic skills? Or is it just me?
For my sins, I once shadowed a chap called David Thelfall (Frank from Shameless) round Sainsbury's in Hammersmith. I was intrigued as to what an actor might be doing there and what he might be buying! Sour Cream, Avocado and some Tiger Beer, if you were wondering... That seems perfectly normal to me, although I might trade Tsing Tao for Tiger Beer. I am thinking that he missed a few things of his original shop and was preparing Fajitas for some lucky people. Not that I put much thought into it.
I once stood next to Des Lynam having just watched, mine and his, beloved Brighton and Hove Albion triumph in an end-to-end, cup final-esque type performance (Truth be told, it was a bit rubbish). I had an undying urge to speak to him. This is Des Lynam after all. The King of Grandstand. All I could muster was an uneasy smile and continue devour my plate of nibbles. Why? Well, this one is easy, Des is the coolest man to have walked the planet (ignoring the obvious choice, David Attenbrough) and I didn’t want to put him under any awkward pressure to make conversation. Whilst I may be coming across as a celebrity stalker, I shall never get to the stage whereby I send Ken Dodd some underwear and a dead rat. That tickle stick never did it for me.
I am not a subscriber to the type of magazine that delves into the world of celebre. Hello! OK! Wassup! Two of my University flatmates were fans of such magazine and inevitably, avoiding doing some work (or run out of money for the pub), I would peruse said magazines. Why does one want to know the intimate details of someone they have never met or why does one want to know how [insert unknown TV presenter or IT Girl] they lost 12lbs in two days; cutting back on the fake tan would be a good start. That surely adds to the overall mass of the person. Normal (?) people can make an obscene fortune for simply being famous for being famous.
To save dull conversation, embarrassments and the risk of looking a bit sad, one should refer to the greatest of lessons taught to me.You should never name drop..... Mick Jagger told me that.
If you haven’t stopped reading...
Swine Flu watch: Day Seven(?) – Apparently the neighbours of my workplace have caught it, so I shall up the Vitamin C or whatever wards it off.
Word of the Day: Pampahagous - Eating or consuming everything.
Quote of the Day: Women have their faults. Men have only two: Everything they say. everything they do - Anon
Go forth and multiply.
Tuesday 12 May 2009
Sorry seems to be the...
...operative word in Westminster.
It seems that the self-righteous Members of Parliament, who have been scavenging over the forlorn corpses that used to run our banks, have had their noses well and truly stuffed deep in the trough themselves and for some time now. Bombshell after bombshell are reverberating across Whitehall, sending the political figures into a mad panic. Something Guy Fawkes never quite managed to do.
Figures set to be released suggest...
2004-2008
£451.34 - John Prescott - Instant Whip, Marshmallows and Um Bongo.
£392.78 - Tony Blair - Ego Polish.
£781.45 - David Cameron - Bicycles (Bicycle locks not included).
£19.99 - Gordon Brown - 'A Dummies guide to accounting and finance'
£9.99 - Hazel Blears - 'UK Pocket Tax Book 06/07' - Later sold on ebay for an undisclosed profit.
One outlandish Tory MP has claimed expenses (£380) on manure! That is 'Horse shit' I hear you say and you would be correct, in both senses. What they must realise is that expenses should NOT be an extension to their salary, but a re-imbursement for unavoidable costs incurred!
It seems that the self-righteous Members of Parliament, who have been scavenging over the forlorn corpses that used to run our banks, have had their noses well and truly stuffed deep in the trough themselves and for some time now. Bombshell after bombshell are reverberating across Whitehall, sending the political figures into a mad panic. Something Guy Fawkes never quite managed to do.
Figures set to be released suggest...
2004-2008
£451.34 - John Prescott - Instant Whip, Marshmallows and Um Bongo.
£392.78 - Tony Blair - Ego Polish.
£781.45 - David Cameron - Bicycles (Bicycle locks not included).
£19.99 - Gordon Brown - 'A Dummies guide to accounting and finance'
£9.99 - Hazel Blears - 'UK Pocket Tax Book 06/07' - Later sold on ebay for an undisclosed profit.
One outlandish Tory MP has claimed expenses (£380) on manure! That is 'Horse shit' I hear you say and you would be correct, in both senses. What they must realise is that expenses should NOT be an extension to their salary, but a re-imbursement for unavoidable costs incurred!
A friend of mine has discovered that his local MP has claimed £12,000 for gardening services. He decided to cycle over and speak his mind, only to discover that the MP in question was not in. "Nice garden though" were his words. The next step was to send him an email - only to discover that one of his listed interests (on the MP's website) was gardening!
Oh well. No point getting overexcited about this, I shall vote and my one vote alone shall not make the blindest bit of difference. The sun is shining, the birds are twittering (when not drowned out by buses) and Sussex are getting their act together on the cricket field. News that this summer is supposed to be hot and dry (we have heard that before) has put the spring back into my step. Sorry for those of you that have gardens to attend to, I am being wholly selfish.
Having said that, I spent the whole day gardening in Reigate. Good for the spirit, apart from much of the afternoon was taken up by desperately trying to avoid contact with a malevolent wasp or two. Well it wouldn't be summertime without them, would it?
Swine Flu Watch: Day Five - High fever; cough; runny nose; sore throat; aching body; headache; chills; fatigue; loss of appetite; and vomiting. No, I haven't got any of those.
Word of the Day: Qualtagh - The first person you see after leaving your house/flat/domicile.
Quote of the Day: Get busy living, or get busy dying - Andy Dufresne (Shawshank Redemption)
A warm welcome to my latest official follower, Doug4. Hang in there, things can only get better.
Do have yourselves a good evening one and all.
Monday 11 May 2009
A celebrity is a person....
.....who works hard all his life to become well known, then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognised. (Fred Allen 1894-1956)
Good evening.
Todays Blog is tinged with great sadness as I have just discovered that Katie Price and Peter Andre have called an end to their four and a half year marriage. Seemingly, the article on the BBC website had been misplaced and I soon found it in the 'Entertainment' section. I shall say no more as "both parties would like privacy" that is until the price (no pun intended) is right..!
On a much more serious note, today was indeed a sad day as it marked the 24th Anniversary of the Bradford City fire. 24 years ago, 11,000 fans packed into Valley Parade to celebrate Bradford City winning the league and 56 never returned home. A day of great happiness, ended in tragedy. The inferno took hold of the old wooden stand within a small matter of minutes after it started. Those that died were invariably the old or young, who did not stand a chance of escaping. They were just ordinary people like you and I. Life can be very cruel. Rest in Peace.
Something to reflect upon.
If ever you find you have a spare moment, then it is worth clicking on this link and testing out your vocabulary skills. Not only will you be feeding your mind, thou shall be feeding the hungry. http://www.freerice.com/
I am dusting off the cricket bat as I type (not just women that can multi-task) and the Deep Heat is at the ready. Get those picnic hampers out and prepare yourself for some talismanic batting in the glorious sunshine, all type of voyeur is most welcome.
Without further ado...
Swine Flu Watch: Day Four - Slightly runny nose, but resisted the urge to press the panic button.
Word of the Day: Cathexis - Concentration of emotional energy on an object or idea.
Quote of the Day: It ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth - (Ever the Linguist) Rocky Balboa
I am pleased to see I have gained my first official follower. Take a bow, Ms Reynolds.
On that note, I shall leave you all in peace, as I have a job application to finish before midnight and the clock is ticking. Allez vite!
Good evening.
Todays Blog is tinged with great sadness as I have just discovered that Katie Price and Peter Andre have called an end to their four and a half year marriage. Seemingly, the article on the BBC website had been misplaced and I soon found it in the 'Entertainment' section. I shall say no more as "both parties would like privacy" that is until the price (no pun intended) is right..!
On a much more serious note, today was indeed a sad day as it marked the 24th Anniversary of the Bradford City fire. 24 years ago, 11,000 fans packed into Valley Parade to celebrate Bradford City winning the league and 56 never returned home. A day of great happiness, ended in tragedy. The inferno took hold of the old wooden stand within a small matter of minutes after it started. Those that died were invariably the old or young, who did not stand a chance of escaping. They were just ordinary people like you and I. Life can be very cruel. Rest in Peace.
Something to reflect upon.
If ever you find you have a spare moment, then it is worth clicking on this link and testing out your vocabulary skills. Not only will you be feeding your mind, thou shall be feeding the hungry. http://www.freerice.com/
I am dusting off the cricket bat as I type (not just women that can multi-task) and the Deep Heat is at the ready. Get those picnic hampers out and prepare yourself for some talismanic batting in the glorious sunshine, all type of voyeur is most welcome.
Without further ado...
Swine Flu Watch: Day Four - Slightly runny nose, but resisted the urge to press the panic button.
Word of the Day: Cathexis - Concentration of emotional energy on an object or idea.
Quote of the Day: It ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth - (Ever the Linguist) Rocky Balboa
I am pleased to see I have gained my first official follower. Take a bow, Ms Reynolds.
On that note, I shall leave you all in peace, as I have a job application to finish before midnight and the clock is ticking. Allez vite!
Saturday 9 May 2009
Two new arrivals in Barnes...
Most humble greetings to my ardent fans.
I bring glad tidings to your computer screen. A pair of Canadian Geese became parents, two Goslings, in the past 24 hours. The chicks appear to be in good health and weighed approximately 35 ounces each. Both parents seem to be thrilled with their new arrivals, but I am waiting for an official statement from them. Name suggestions are most welcome.
Bit of a dull day really. I have been kicking my heels for much of it. Brave efforts to meet up with friends were met with a flurry of 'Sorry. I'm busy. Would have been fun'. I shall not take it TOO personally! I even ended up in the local Charity Shop with no intention of buying anything - How sad is that? The pond is bored of me, I am sure.
Did not make ANY progress on the writing front. Need to have a little more faith in myself. Am I on the verge of greatness and simply need a bit more application? Not always easy to believe in yourself, but worth a shot at least, shirley? Faint (or is it feint?) heart never won a fair maiden, for no good reason.
Tomorrow should be good fun. Putney and a Barbeque beckons. Unsure as to what dish I should take, but I shall not bore you with that (although I already have). I am thinking Potato Salad. No BBQ is complete without that.
13 days (...and counting) for the grand Brighton visit. T'will be nice to show Helen the delights of Brighton. Therese and David, both have the T-Shirt. The Parents are looking forward to meeting T & H. Gulp! Only joking.
Swine Flu Watch: Zero sneezes. It appears that I have cured myself.
Word of the Day: Airgonaut - One who journeys through air.
Quote of the Day: "Love is like war. Easy to begin but very hard to stop" - Henry Mencken
At the risk of sounding too much like Jerry Springer. Take care of yourselves....and each other.
I bring glad tidings to your computer screen. A pair of Canadian Geese became parents, two Goslings, in the past 24 hours. The chicks appear to be in good health and weighed approximately 35 ounces each. Both parents seem to be thrilled with their new arrivals, but I am waiting for an official statement from them. Name suggestions are most welcome.
Bit of a dull day really. I have been kicking my heels for much of it. Brave efforts to meet up with friends were met with a flurry of 'Sorry. I'm busy. Would have been fun'. I shall not take it TOO personally! I even ended up in the local Charity Shop with no intention of buying anything - How sad is that? The pond is bored of me, I am sure.
Did not make ANY progress on the writing front. Need to have a little more faith in myself. Am I on the verge of greatness and simply need a bit more application? Not always easy to believe in yourself, but worth a shot at least, shirley? Faint (or is it feint?) heart never won a fair maiden, for no good reason.
Tomorrow should be good fun. Putney and a Barbeque beckons. Unsure as to what dish I should take, but I shall not bore you with that (although I already have). I am thinking Potato Salad. No BBQ is complete without that.
13 days (...and counting) for the grand Brighton visit. T'will be nice to show Helen the delights of Brighton. Therese and David, both have the T-Shirt. The Parents are looking forward to meeting T & H. Gulp! Only joking.
Swine Flu Watch: Zero sneezes. It appears that I have cured myself.
Word of the Day: Airgonaut - One who journeys through air.
Quote of the Day: "Love is like war. Easy to begin but very hard to stop" - Henry Mencken
At the risk of sounding too much like Jerry Springer. Take care of yourselves....and each other.
Thursday 7 May 2009
Truth is the strong compost in which beauty may sometimes germinate
Good afternoon.
I am tapping away at my laptop from the comfort of the sofa as Onions is on sizzling form and slicing through the West Indies batsmen. Apologies for the dreadful puns, I promise that is shallot (from henceforth). In fact, as I type, Onions has bagged a debut Michelle (Five-for; Michelle Pfeiffer, I am sure you understand).
A lunchtime trip to the garden centre in East Sheen with my flatmate and friend Therese provided a perfect opportunity to escape the four walls and ward off a bout of cabin fever. Sadly, we have no garden and simply share a backyard with some Film Producers and a Rat. Valiant efforts to appear theatrical and dramatic, whilst handing over a delivery to the aforementioned Film Producers, were scuppered as the gentleman in question was saved by the telephone. My big break shall have to wait for another day.
Talking of big breaks, it seems that Britain has been hit by lottery fever (not fatal, unlike Swine Flu). A gargantuan jackpot of £110m promises to obliterate the credit crunch for a host of lucky punters. Any improvement on my top prize of £7.60 would be most welcome.
I have volunteered to undertake a charity cycle to raise money to send Therese to Mozambique and hopefully purchase/construct a source of fresh water. I guess I should think about training for that and certainly my £45 bike could do with a service (couldn't we all?) if it is to make it all the way to Bristol from West London. You can almost hear it groan with dark anticipation when I pedal for the first time. I don't want to end up marooned in the depths of Wiltshire after all! I trust we are not cycling back afterwards....I hope.
Still unpublished, but it would help if I actually did something to publish.
Swine Flu Watch - Day One: One sneeze today.
Word of the Day: Sinapistic - Consisting of Mustard
Quote of the Day: Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness - Mark Twain 1835 - 1910
Home and Away (the shame) is distracting my channel of thought, so I shall leave it there.
That is all for now.
Good luck and Godspeed.
The Zebra Has Landed
Good morning Friends, Pompeians, Countrymen and anyone else reading.
I shall keep my first entry brief for fear of raising the bar too high and gifting false expectations.
The purpose of this blog is to get myself into the habit of writing regularly. My early mid-life crisis forced me up to London and writing is my apparent destiny. A languid and sorry start is by no means the end of my short literary career. Good things come to those who wait, afterall (shamelessly nabbed from Guinness). As well as keeping my fans informed as to my thoughts, feelings, activities and whereabouts (in front of the computer, obviously). Plus, you may discover what makes me tick.
Barbeque season is upon us, the days are getting longer and the skirts are getting shorter. Is there anything greater than saying goodbye to Winter? Although I seem to have jinxed it now as the sun has retreated and we appear to be moving backwards towards Autumn. Would not surprise me in the slightest. Enough about the weather, how very English of me. In fact, do the English talk of much else?
Star Wars Day (May 4th) was spent in the Porterhouse, Covent Garden, in honour of the birthday of my flatmate Helen. A home to over 250 Ales, Lagers and Beers. Well worth a visit for those with a palatable thirst for more international beverages than you can shake a stick at. Clotworthy Dobbin (not a character from Wallace & Gromit) was the favourite by a small head. 6 down, many to go.
All shall be explained about the Zebra in due course.
Word of the Day: Adimpleate - To fill up
Quote of the Day: I have a lot of good moments, but the one I prefer is when I kicked the holigan. Eric Cantona (2007)
Thank you for wasting your time.
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